#Alfie Solomons Fanfic

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Alfie noticing that guys who are way younger than him (like Michael? John?) having a thing for reader, who is close to age to these young gentlemen but has only eyes for ol' man Alfie? Thoughts?

Near Deadly Sin

Alfie Solomons x F!Reader; fluff

AN: IM BAAAAACCCCKKK hello my loves it’s taking me forever to write again but I’m glad to be back. I miss you all and hope you all are doing well!!! MUAH - Mo

No. No this acidic flame burning between his ribs is not jealousy.

Not at all.

The embers stoked in his chest. The flames licking up his neck and around his ears. These are normal… manly… sensible reactions.

Alfie had been invited for ‘drinks’ with the Shelbys. He had refused adamantly, and was only coerced upon your promise to accompany him and to never. leave. his. sight. As if you would ever be far from him or out of his thunderous gaze. But as he is sitting across from Thomas and Arthur and Polly, he is regretting ever bringing you near this nonsense. This den of wolves and snakes. The murmurs of Thomas faded like the crackle of a radio as he focused in on John Shelby’s lustful gaze over you. With every sweep of his young and unbridled eyes and suck of his teeth, Alfie became more and more enraged. Not that you noticed. You didn’t notice John’s roving eyes or the quickening pulse of your husband next to you. You were content sipping the tea Polly served, making quiet conversation with Ada in the corner, holding a babbling Karl.

Alfie knew there was supposed to be a deal or something tonight. Or maybe an update on a job. Or something. It didn’t matter. Fuck the business. Fuck the Shelbys. Fuck John Shelby. Fuck it all. Standing quickly, pushing through the screaming pain of his back, Alfie grunts, “Darling get your coat. We’re done here.”

Your head spun, “Meyn Likht?”

“Up. Coat. Now. Cyril needs us.”

You press your lips in a firm line. Holding back your tongue from lashing at him for his impromptu exit. You knew what he actually meant. Thinking of Cyril was his code for indicating murderous intent that needed to be snuffed out immediately. You watch Alfie as you slip on your coat, going to Thomas to whisper something just out of your reach. Had you heard him, you would have heard the volcanic timber of his voice promise, “You control that little brother of yours Tommy yeah? It’s against holy law to look at another man’s wife like he been doing. Will have to go back to Mosaic law if he don’t shape up.”

With heavy stomps he approaches John, who is trying yet failing to keep a stone expression. “You keep them eyes to yourself little boy. Or someone may just take ‘em from you.”

“Darling? Cyril needs to be let out and will not wait for you!”

With a firm pat on the cheek Alfie turned away, gripping your waist firmly, hand as hot as a brand on the skin under your dress.

-

It’s late now, Alfie is fuming under the crisp sheets and thick quilts layered living on the soft bed. He’s pretending to read. Putting on his glasses and taking them back off again to stare at the ceiling. You emerge from the bathroom, face flush from the hot water, and hair pulled away from your bare shoulders. Arms crossed across your chest, you sit on Alfie’s side of the bed, “You want to talk about it like a grown up now?”

He huffs and shifts lower into the bed, as if to hide from you. With a shrug you walk back to your side, shuffling your sock feet across. You crawl back in bed, back to Alfie to let him fume. It was better than fighting with him to get him to share his feelings.

“He was looking at you.”

“Well Karl is a baby darling.”

“Not Karl! John fucking Shelby! Little bastard was undressing you with his eyes! And you said nothing!”

Ah… there it was.

You let yourself sit up to look at your husband’s face. Folded up into himself, glasses precariously balanced on his nose, cheeks ruddy from rage. Jealousy was his greatest sin and vice. Bigger than rage. Bigger than his love of rum. He was an only child and as such he grew into a man who did not like to share. Not even your image. You curled up next to him, like a cat preening for attention. “Meyn Likht… I didn’t even see him. You shouldn’t be jealous of a figure of vapor.”

“What you don’t notice the… the young men just staring at you? Gapped mouths like dead fish?”

“Those children?” You hum, gently kissing his scruffy jaw and temple.

“Those… men closer in age… to you.”

With that you crawl into his lap, looping your arms around his broad shoulders. “Darling… what could I do with those men? I’d break them.”

“Break them?” He chuckles, gripping you tighter.

“They’re too soft. Too pretty. No. I like my men… rougher… more sturdy… someone who can stand strong and not worry about their pretty face getting dirty. I like my old man.”

“Do you now?”

“Love him even. Deliriously in love with him. Couldn’t live without him.”

Before you could take another breath, he was on you, kissing all over your face, tickling you with his rough beard and mustache. “Good Lord woman you make me feel 20 again.”

[hottpinkpenguin]

Hey 😊 if your still taking requests for the peakys. Could I please ask for Alfie Solomons with A "ask me to stay" and D "dark secret" female reader. Thanks 💗💗

A/n: that's a wrap on Peaky Blinders requests from June!!! thx to all the lovelies who participated <3

The Wall Between Them - Alfie Solomons X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2362 Content warnings: Domestic violence, reader murders the abuser, abuse, violence, blood/gore, protective Alfie, can't-be-vulnerable Alfie, trying-his-best Alfie, hints of soft!Alfie?

Her hands shook so violently it was a wonder she didn’t drop the pistol. If anyone had been watching the scene before them, they would have credited a guardian angel for guiding the bullet straight to his chest despite the treacherous wobble of the gun. Her eyes were closed when she pulled the trigger, tears streaming down her cheeks and mixing with the blood from her mouth. 

He fell like a sack of bricks. One minute he was lunging towards her, eyes trained on the pistol. A cold fear seized his heart as he saw the terror in her gaze melt away to black rage. All those whiskey beatings, harsh words and hateful years had backfired on him. Then, in the next instant, he died to the ear-splitting sound of a gunshot. 

The silence that followed was so loud she swore it would crush her. The walls around her seemed to be holding their breath. Was he really dead? Did she really pull the trigger? 

She didn’t let herself exhale until she saw a pool of blood - darker than she’d imagined it would be - staining the floorboards underneath him. She dropped the pistol; it landed with a heavy thud at her feet moments before her knees folded on themselves as if made of twigs. She pitched sideways, letting the hallway wall brace her fall as she deflated under the weight of realization. She knew in that moment that it didn’t matter how many times he’d hit her. The ghastly bruises and scars he’d left etched in her skin, the nights her mind had divorced itself from her battered body and wandered the halls like a ghost, the mangled monster he’d grown into… none of it mattered. All that others would see was a dead husband and a living wife with motive, means, and a guilty conscience. Even dead, that horrid man was imprisoning her.

She knew there was only one person who could get her out of this. And so, she wiped the blood from her rapidly swelling lip, picked up the pistol and slipped it into the deep pocket of her apron, and tied up the escaped strands of hair. It had been almost seven years since she’d seen Alfie Solomons, but she still knew exactly where to find him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Boss, there’s a lady here to see you.” 

Alfie barely heard Jack’s murmured comment above the jeer of the crowd. The Irishman was swaying unsteadily on his feet in the pen after taking a nasty round of hits to his right ear. Alfie could see his ear filling with blood. A busted eardrum, likely. Circling opposite him, the burly Hungarian Alfie knew as The Red Devil was snarling proudly as he surveyed his quarry. 

“Fuckin’ finish him!” Alfie called out, lifting a wad of bills in the air like a signal fire. The fight was fixed of course, and Alfie had fixed it. The Red Devil was turning into quite a lucrative investment, but his penchant for theatrics was tiring to Alfie. He preferred a quick win, efficient and clean. 

“Boss?” Jack edged slightly closer, waiting for Alfie’s orders.

“Hm?”

“A lady, boss. There’s a lady here to see you. Asked for you by name.”

“Didn’t book a whore tonight,” Alfie replied simply, waving Jack off as The Red Devil moved in on the Irishman, holding the dazed man’s head as he drove his knee up into the exposed forehead until the bell rang to signal the end of the fight. The crowd erupted into a mix of appreciative cheers, boos, and cries to settle up or place new bets as another pair of fighters moved to the edge of the pen. 

“Don’t think she’s a whore, boss. Looks like a respectable lady. Bit beat up though.” 

Alfie fixed Jack with an incredulous stare. He wasn’t accustomed to his men pressing him on trivial issues like this. Especially not on a fight night. Jack flinched imperceptibly; he was well-acquainted with Alfie’s anger and bore a nasty half-moon scar the framed his left eye from being pistol-whipped after pressing Alfie’s limits. Alfie almost moved to strike him, until something about Jack’s words and the odd look in his eyes plucked at something. 

“She give a name?”

Jack shook his head, eyes glued to the ground. “No. All she said was you were ol’ friends. Childhood friends, I think she said.”

It couldn’t be. Alfie shook his head as if trying to shake out the thought. But, then again, there was only one person he’d ever met who’d claim him as a friend. 

“Beat up, you say?”

Jack nodded. “Lip’s split and she got a shiner.”

A memory flickered across Alfie’s mind. He hadn’t seen her in years, but the last time he had, she’d had a ring of purple and green bruises around her neck. She’d tried to hide it under a high collar dress, but Alfie had her pressed up against the wall of his office, their lips devouring each other, and he hadn’t missed the way she winced when he let his hand slide down the side of her neck on its way to undo the line of buttons at the front of her dress. He knew who’d done it and didn’t need her to say a damn thing. If she hadn’t begged him on her knees - her goddamn knees - to spare that pathetic man’s life, Alfie Solomons would have gutted him nice and slow. 

He hadn’t seen her since. She’d stopped writing, stopped answering her own front door, stopped going to the butcher shop below where Alfie kept a small apartment. He’d had her on every surface of that apartment, rabid with hunger for anything she’d give him. Then she’d just vanished. Told him she was due to be married, couldn’t carry on with him anymore. Alfie knew there’d been a silent request buried in her words. He’d heard her ask it with her eyes. Ask me to marry you, and I’ll leave him. Alfie cursed himself every day for letting that moment slip by like water on rocks. He wasn’t any closer to figuring out how to love someone now then he was back then, but in his quiet moments he wondered if maybe he could have figured it out with her, if only he’d been willing to take that chance.

“Boss? Boss, what do you want me to tell ‘er?” 

The sound of the bell announcing the start of another match jarred Alfie loose from his reminiscences. 

“Nothin’. I’ll talk to ‘er.”

Jack eyed him with surprise, but quickly smoothed the spark of interest out of his features rather than risk another scar from his mercurial boss. He’d never known Alfie Solomons to pause his dealings for a woman. Something about her must have been special. Jack followed his boss out of the smoky, cacophonous warehouse and towards the back of the building where Alfie kept his offices. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Alfie felt his fingers dig into the wood of his desk as she stepped out of the shadowy corner of his office and into the soft halo glow of his desk lamp. Her lip was split, blood dried on her chin, and one of her luminous eyes was swollen shut. Murder ripped through Alfie’s blood at the sight of her. 

“Before you say anything, Alfie, he’s dead.”

Her voice sounded different, thin and strained, like someone had scooped out her soul leaving nothing but an echo behind.

“He sure fuckin’ is.” Alfie was shaking he was so bloodthirsty. He couldn’t look at her and risk losing himself. How could it still be so fresh, he wondered, after seven long years?

“No, that’s not what I meant… Alfie, I-, I killed him. I shot him.”

A different man might have been horrified, or maybe even a little impressed. Alfie was none of that. Instead, he felt himself pitch forward over the lip of a hole of despair. 

His voice cracked when he ordered Jack and the rest of the boys out of the office. Once the door closed behind them, she sank down into one of the leather-backed chairs across the desk from him. Desperate to be close to her lest she splinter to pieces, Alfie rounded the desk to perch against its edge, stretching his long legs away from her in an attempt to give her space. She hardly looked up at him. 

“What did he fuckin’ do to you?” Barely more than a whisper. Alfie was glad the light was too dim for her to see that he was treacherously close to tears.

She looked up at him, shocked. Her one good eye gleamed at him. 

“Alfie, did you hear me? I killed him.”

He nodded, swallowing thickly. Alfie was full of tender urges and gentle feelings, but his mouth couldn’t seem to give them words or noise. All he knew was harshness and violence. It was the same wall that had kept him from reaching out for her hand and telling her all the things he felt the last night he’d seen her. Here he was, so close he could smell her lavender soap but his affection locked away so tightly and deeply that he couldn’t force himself to touch it even if he tried.

“Nothin’ he didn’t deserve,” he grunted brusquely after a few moments. He dropped his gaze, unable to tolerate the sight of her face bruised and misshapen. He noticed her hands were trembling in her lap. “What do you need, darlin’?”

She stifled a small sob at the sound of the pet name he’d reserved for her. 

“He’s still-... the body, I- I don’t know… I guess-”

“It’s done. Write down your address.” Alfie handed her a pen and paper, watched as she struggled to mark the street name and number legibly. Her knuckles were bruised, he noted with a twisted pang of pride and pain. She’d been fighting back, he realized. All alone these last seven years. And he’d let her. He’d stopped fighting to get to her. Let her close herself off to him. Let himself close off to her. And now, it wasn’t until she’d been pushed to the brink - maybe past it - that she’d come to him, and only because she knew that when violence and darkness was needed, Alfie could do it. But he couldn’t do the other things, the harder things. Like love her, protect her, tirelessly fight for her. 

She tore off the page and handed it to Alfie. He took it without looking at the writing, strode over the door and excused himself from the office. He thrust the paper into Jack’s hands. 

“Take care of it, Jackie. No loose ends, you hear me? I’ll fuckin’ rip you limb from limb if it ain’t done right.” 

He didn’t give Jack or the others time to argue or ask questions before he slammed the door as a dismissal and strode back to her. He reached for her, needing to feel her warmth under his fingertips just to prove she was here. She flinched instinctively, sending Alfie deeper into self-loathing.

“Do they know-”

“It’s done, darlin’. It’s taken care of.” 

Alfie poured himself a glass of whiskey, drunk it down in one gulp, and poured another. 

“Alfie…” 

Her voice was so soft and yearning it broke Alfie in two. He turned to face her. Gods she looked perfect. 

“It ain’t fuckin’ happenin’ again.” The most solemn promise he’d ever made. 

She recoiled from him as if slapped. It took him a half moment to process why. 

“I ain’t lettin’ anyone hurt you. Ever again, you hear me? I’ll fuckin’ burn the world and every hateful man with it, it don’t matter.” It was all Alfie could find the words to say. 

Finally understanding his meaning, he watched her relax in the chair. She eyed him without saying a thing, a strange expression on her face. 

“I don’t want that, Alfie,” she replied softly. “I don’t want any more death. I don’t want to see someone hurt ever again. I just… I just want…” 

Her words trailed off into the quiet. Neither of them knew where the end of that sentence would lead. The space between them stretched and morphed until it felt like an ocean separating them. Strange, that two people who both wanted so desperately to be with each other could feel so far away.

“Don’t set any fires on my account, Alfie.” She rose from her chair and walked towards him, taking the glass out of Alfie’s hand and downing the whiskey with a wince. “Just ask me to stay.” 

Alfie felt his heart run headlong into that same old wall that always kept them apart. Here she was, the only woman who’d ever mattered, literally giving him the words she wanted to hear. And all that Alfie’s tongue wanted to say was more promises of vengeance, of violence in her name, of destruction. 

She watched him struggle, her gaze even but tired. 

“Ask me to stay, Alfie. That’s all I need.”

The openness those words threatened to expose in Alfie Solomons felt like a lit bomb nestled in the cage of his ribs. He choked on the air in his lungs. Come on, you fucker, he thought viciously as he struggled to press back on the urge to run. 

She watched and waited. Each moment, her shoulders sagged a bit more.

“Stay.”

It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, and Alfie spat the word out as if it had poison between its letters. But was it close enough? 

Her heart thought so. She felt a softness take root there, a shred of hope. 

Yes, it was enough. 

She gave Alfie Solomons a soft smile. The way he crumbled at the sight told her enough about his feelings for her. Even if he couldn’t put them into words, she could see the love that she was so desperate to excavate from wherever he stored away the fragile parts of himself.

“That’s enough,” she told him sweetly, lifting a hand to cradle the side of his face. For the first time in seven years, she let herself relax into a man’s touch as Alfie’s fingers found hers…

[dyns33]

Family's House

Next episode of Alfie Solomons and his wife dayly life as idiots in love

Y/N knew how to keep a house. Or almost.

In any case, she knew how to manage on her own, cook, clean, do the laundry, but that didn't mean that she loved these activities, or that she did them perfectly well.

However, since she was married, it seemed important that she behaved like a good wife who took care of the household chores, so that her husband could rest when he came home from work.

And with his "work", Alfie needed a lot of rest.

Since he was not very trusting, he didn't like the idea of ​​letting a housekeeper hang around unsupervised at their house, but he had found the sister of one of his loyal employees who could come by three times a week to take care of the cleaning, laundry, dusting, checking the silverware, and other things that he didn't care about at all.

On top of that, he often insisted on cooking. Maybe he was afraid that his meals would be poisoned, or he had noticed that his wife's food were too salty or overcooked, but in any case, even if he was gifted, that also annoyed Mrs. Solomons a lot.

"I could do it !" Y/N insisted, who also didn't like coming home and finding herself in front of a frightened girl, who didn't know that her boss wasn't the type to punish someone because the forks were put away wrong.

"And when would you have time, love ? You're often with me at the bakery, to help me keep the accounts, check that everything has been done properly and stop me from killing everyone."

"I'm not there as often as you."

"And the employees regret it. I think they're plotting. Ollie's been making me walk a lot lately, he knows my back doesn't like it, and that you'll take my place if I'm bedridden. Little vermin. I heard about an election project."

"Stop, I'm serious."

"Me too, love. For the plot, and the fact that I don't care who cleaned the house, as long as it's cleaned."

Maybe he didn't care, but the Candem harpies did. Y/N wanted to convince herself that she didn't care about their opinions, but that wasn't entirely true.

She wanted to be a good wife, for everyone to know that Alfie Solomons had made the right choice in marrying her, and that they were very happy.

Of course, it was also good to have a cleaning lady. A sign of wealth. But she couldn't help it, she needed to feel useful, and to show that she cared for her husband. In her family, they took care of each other, even if it wasn't always in a conventional way.

Since he was an excellent husband, Aflie had noticed her nervousness. He had first thought that she was bored. That was partly why he gave her work at the bakery, but also because he trusted her, that she was very talented, and that he liked to be with her all the time.

Since that didn't seem to be enough, he made the mistake of asking Tommy for advice. Except that since he didn't consider Thomas to be the best at relationships, or at keeping secrets from his sister, he talked about horses.

"Why ? Are you planning to buy a horse ?"

"Well, you see dear Tommy, maybe. You guys like these devil's creatures, and I love my wife. I was thinking of getting a mare, I found a charming one, adorable, but a little crazy. Agitated. Oh, I know what you're going to say, she senses that I'm not comfortable, all that bullshit, but no, she's like that with everyone. How can I calm her down ?"

"If she's naturally like that, you won't be able to. But you can always try to talk to her nicely, stroke her head and blow on her nose." Tommy answered seriously, not understanding what they were talking about and really lovng horses.

"… Yeah, I'm not sure she'll appreciate it."

The moment he put his hand on her head and complimented her, Y/N stared at Alfie with a dark look, as if she had perfectly understood what he was doing and why. He was certain of it when she stood up, leaving the room after blowing on his nose.

"Damn witch." he mumbled, thinking he was completely under her spell.

With her problem not resolved, Y/N took the time to consider the situation while remaining calm. It was not necessary for her to do great things to be a good wife.

Cleaning his shirt after work, preparing a good meal from time to time, lighting a fire in the fireplace in winter by offering a pillow for his back and tea. Simple gestures, but very important.

It was the middle of the afternoon when she decided to do all this before Alfie returned. Nothing impossible.

But in the end, she burned the dinner, missing even a simple loaf of bread, she broke plates, one of which had belonged to Alfie's maternal grandparents, she almost set fire to the carpet, and her husband's favorite shirt fell into the mud, in the middle of the street, after Cyril barked cheerfully, making her jump as she wanted to hang it on the windowsill.

So Alfie found the house in this state, with his wife crying in the middle of the living room, her hair disheveled, full of flour, and her dress covered in soot.

"It reminds me of the war." was the only thing he could think to say, looking into the distance before approaching, his hand gently caressing her shoulder. "So, love, did you lose a battle ? What happened ?"

"… I wanted to please you."

"It's a success, I love seeing my wife sobbing."

"You're still not funny. I can't even make bread. I ruined your shirt, the carpet… I broke one of your plates. I'm a horrible wife, you're the one who should be crying."

He could have answered right away, but Alfie Solomons knew his wife well. She had many qualities, just as many reasons why he had fallen in love, and one of them was that Y/N was a stubborn woman.

Worst, she was a Shelby, so she was worse than a mule.

So he took a deep breath, forcing her to stand up so that she sat on his lap like a child, letting her finish crying and talking nonsense before speaking.

"Treacle. Listen to me carefully. First of all, I am a very funny man."

"Medium funny, and often without meaning to." she mumbled, her head nestled in his neck.

"True. In any case, I'm not a man who gets attached to stupid things like a shirt or a rug. I'll buy others. Same thing for the plate. I have lots of memories with my grandparents, I don't need a plate, I have lots of plates. I can go and break all the family's china."

"No."

"As you wish, love. For cooking, I admit that I would love to come home and enjoy a meal made by you with love. But if you don't like cooking, I love cooking, and I love watching you eat what I cooked for you. You don't know how to do it ? I can teach you. My bakery may be fake, but not my talent. My breads are the best in the country, my mother's recipe. Family secret. But we are married, so I can let you in on it."

"… You're really not angry ?" she asked shyly, feeling a little ridiculous, a feeling she didn't like at all.

"It would be very tempting to tell you that you deserve a punishment and to spank you, but no, treacle, I'm not angry. I appreciate that you wanted to do all this. You are a perfect woman, at least the perfect woman for me. I am fulfilled. And I don't tell Ollie and the others, but I also think that you do a better job than me at the bakery. Mutiny always lurks."

No doubt she got that from her family, the business sense and the ability to work perfectly. To compensate, Y/N was simply not good at being a housewife, and Alfie didn't give a damn.

He gladly kicked the clichés, the old ideas and the gossips of Candem who dared to criticize his wife or make fun of him because he rolled up his sleeves and went into the kitchen.

Why wouldn't it be normal for a man to take care of his wife ? A good husband had to recognize all the work done during the day, and in thanks, he could cook, massage the poor feet of his sweetheart, and make tender love to her in the marital bed.

And Y/N really had a lot of work with him and his company. No one could deny it.

Just having to put up with him was already a full-time job. He himself wasn't sure how she managed it, or why she loved an old fool like him.

"It's true that you're crazy, we're going to burn the house down !"

"No, love, we're going to make a brioche."

"Not if you keep holding my butt like that, instead of watching the oven !"

"My nose will know. While my eyes and hands can't resist the sight of my wife, kneading dough, wearing only my apron."

"I don't even remember how you convinced me to do this."

"A lot of charm and the promise of a heavenly tasting brioche."

"I'll eat it alone, after throwing you naked in the street."

"It wouldn't be the first time, treacle. If I promise to stop kneading your beautiful behind, will you let me taste our work with you ?"

"I'll think about it."

The brioche ended up burning, because despite his promises, and his shrewd nose, Alfie was particularly distracted when Y/N leaned over to grab a dish.

But it wasn't her fault, and since he didn't stop kissing her, she didn't have time to think that she would never be completely good at keeping house. It was already wonderful that she knew how to keep her husband on the right tracks.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

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

For my babes @cillmequick and @zablife. Enjoy!

Words - 1,467

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

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

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

“Next lad!”  

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

“Next lad!” 

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

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

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

“Um, n-no, Mr. Solomons.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you ever cease thinking about your stomach?” 

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

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

[wonderlanddreamer]

I was wondering if you could write something on Alfie? Alfie seeking comfort in the reader after a bad day? Or soft seduction after a long day, either works

His Serenity.

[Alfie Solomons x Reader]

Summary: After a bad day, Alfie just wants to be alone, or so he thinks. But then there's you, with your own sensual way to bring him serenity.

Warnings: Explicit content. Oral sex [m receiving]. 18+MDNI.

Word Count: 3086

The faint, musty scent of old books and aged wood fills every corner of Alfie Solomons' office as you meticulously sort through the stacks of paperwork on his cluttered desk. The hum of the bustling distillery outside seeps through the walls, a comforting backdrop that provides a steady rhythm you've grown accustomed to over the months. Golden sunlight filters through the small, grimy windows, casting long shadows that stretch across the room, signalling the end of another arduous day. Just as you finish organising the last stack, the door slams open with a force that sends a shiver down your spine and rattles the windows.

Alfie strides in, his presence like a storm brewing in the confined space. His face is a mask of fury; his eyes are wild, and his teeth are gritted as if he's biting back a torrent of words. Papers cascade off his desk in a chaotic flurry as he sweeps an arm across it, sending documents flying. The sound of glass shattering pierces the air as he hurls a bottle against the wall, the remnants glittering on the floor like jagged stars.

"Get out!" His voice is a thunderclap, reverberating through your bones and echoing in the small room.

You freeze, your instincts screaming at you to obey, but something deeper holds you rooted to the spot. Leaving him like this feels wrong, unbearable, as if abandoning a ship in the midst of a storm. Despite the danger radiating from him, you step closer, your heart pounding so loudly you fear he might hear it.

Alfie's eyes narrow on you, his breath coming in heavy, ragged bursts that speak of barely contained rage. He snatches a bottle of whiskey from a nearby shelf, the motion abrupt and aggressive, and slumps into his worn leather chair. The fury in his movements still simmers just beneath the surface as he takes a long, hard swig, the tension in his frame almost palpable, like a coiled spring.

Ignoring the voice in your head that begs you to leave, you move behind him, your steps careful and deliberate. Your hands rest gently on his broad, tense shoulders, and you start to knead the tight knots of muscle with a practised touch. He tenses beneath your fingers, a low growl escaping his lips, a sound that mixes frustration with reluctant relief.

"I said, get out," he mutters, but the command lacks its former bite, sounding more like a plea than an order.

His protests grow weaker as your fingers work their way into the tension, soothing the rage bit by bit. The knots of stress begin to unravel under your touch, and you remain gentle, your hands a source of comfort to him and a balm to your own worry. Gradually, you can feel the tightness leaving his muscles, his breaths becoming more even and less ragged, as though the storm within him is slowly abating.

Feeling the tension slowly ebb from his body, you continue to massage Alfie's shoulders with a gentle, reassuring touch. His breathing steadies, the furious edge softening as the anger drains away. You can sense him becoming more receptive to your presence, his body relaxing under your ministrations as the tempest within him begins to calm.

After a long, silent moment, Alfie leans back slightly, his eyes closed as he savours the relief your hands have brought him. His rough exterior seems to crumble ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of the vulnerable man beneath the tough facade. Without warning, his hand reaches up to cover yours, holding it in place as if to anchor himself in the newfound calm.

He lets out a low, rumbling sigh, and before you can react, he gently pulls you around to the front of his chair. The look in his eyes is different now, softened by exhaustion and perhaps something more profound. He guides you into his lap with surprising tenderness, his strong arms encircling you protectively.

For a moment, you hesitate, unsure of this sudden shift in his mood. But the warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear offer a strange, unexpected comfort. Alfie's rough hand strokes your back in slow, soothing motions, his touch seeking out the solace you provide.

"Stay," he murmurs, his voice a gravelly whisper that carries the weight of unspoken emotions. "Just for a while."

You nod, relaxing into his hold, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest.

As you settle into Alfie's lap, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, your hands continue their gentle caress. The heat from his skin radiates through the fabric of his shirt, mingling with your own warmth and creating a cocoon of intimacy. You can feel the tension leaving him in waves, replaced by something softer, more intimate. Your fingers trace along his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch, a soothing cadence that matches your own.

In the quiet of the office, the only sounds are the distant hum of the distillery and the soft, steady breaths you both take. You become acutely aware of the subtle shift in Alfie's breathing, the way his chest rises and falls more deliberately. His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly, and you feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing against you. A flush of heat rises to your cheeks, your skin tingling with the electricity of the moment, but you don't pull away. Instead, you let your hands explore more deliberately, your touch both soothing and inviting, each stroke a silent promise.

Alfie's eyes meet yours, dark and intense, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But you hold his gaze steadily, your own eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity, acceptance, and something deeper, an unspoken understanding. The corner of his mouth twitches into a small, almost vulnerable smile, as if seeking your permission, a rare glimpse of the man behind the hardened exterior.

In response, you lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear with a feather-light touch as you whisper, "I'm here, Alfie. I'm not going anywhere." The words hang in the air, a vow as much to yourself as to him.

He closes his eyes, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as he pulls you even closer, your bodies fitting together as if they were meant to. His arms encircle you with a protective strength, and the tension melts away, replaced by a profound sense of connection. Your hands slide down to the small of his back, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the heat of his desire and the depth of his need, a silent communication that passes between you.

Feeling the palpable tension and desire between you and Alfie, you decide to take things further. Your hands slowly slide down his chest, tracing the contours of his muscles with deliberate, tender movements. You shift your position with care, easing yourself off his lap and sinking to your knees between his legs, your eyes never leaving his. The intimacy of the moment deepens as you look up at him, your touch a blend of reassurance and invitation.

Alfie's eyes follow your every movement, dark and intense, filled with a mixture of surprise and anticipation. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, a silent communication that speaks volumes. The atmosphere in the room seems to thicken with every passing second, the air charged with a palpable tension. Your hands, now trembling slightly with the gravity of the moment, fumble with the buttons of his trousers.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you work to free him from the confines of the fabric. The sound of your breathing mingles with his, creating a symphony of shared anticipation. Alfie’s hand reaches down, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture.

"Are you sure?" Alfie's voice is a low, gravelly whisper, laced with both desire and a hint of uncertainty. The question hangs in the air, a delicate balance of vulnerability and need.

Looking up into his eyes, you nod, your own voice soft but firm. "I've never been more sure about anything." The conviction in your words seems to resonate with him, his eyes darkening further.

His hand gently cups your face, his thumb tracing a slow, path along your cheekbone. With a sense of newfound determination, you finally manage to undo his trousers, your hands moving with more confidence as you begin to explore the warmth and hardness beneath. The fabric parts easily under your touch, revealing the intense heat and the throbbing evidence of his desire.

With Alfie's trousers undone, the anticipation between you grows thicker, almost tangible. You take a steadying breath, your lips trailing soft, exploratory kisses along his shaft. Each touch is a silent promise of what's to come. The warmth of his skin against your lips sends a shiver down your spine, your senses heightened by the intimacy of the moment.

Alfie's breath hitches, his fingers tightening in your hair as you continue your tender assault. The sensation of his touch, the way his breath catches, fuels your confidence. You take your time, savouring the moment, allowing the tension to build like a slow-burning fire.

As your kisses reach the tip, you feel a surge of electricity pass between you both. Your tongue flicks out, tasting him, eliciting a low, guttural moan from Alfie. The sound spurs you on, your movements becoming more confident, more purposeful, your touch a blend of reverence and hunger.

Your tongue begins to work along his length, tracing patterns, exploring every inch of him with desire. Alfie's hands, once tense, now cradle your head, guiding you gently, his breath coming in ragged gasps that speak of the pleasure you're giving him.

"Christ," he mutters, his voice a strained whisper filled with awe and desire. "You're fuckin' magic, sweetheart." The words, spoken with such raw emotion, sparked your ignition, your movements becoming even more deliberate, more intense, as you seek to bring him the pleasure he so clearly craves. You look up at him, your eyes locking onto his, and you see the raw need and admiration there. The intensity in his gaze seems to fuel your determination to pleasure him, to bring him relief from the storm that had consumed him earlier.

With each stroke of your tongue, each gentle suck, you feel him responding, his body tightening, his hips subtly moving in rhythm with your ministrations. The room feels charged with an almost electric energy, the air thick with the scent of his arousal and the sound of your shared breaths.

Alfie's grip on your hair tightens, his breaths turning into soft, broken moans. The sounds he makes, the way his body reacts to your touch, is a symphony of pleasure that echoes in the quiet room.

With Alfie’s moans echoing in your ears and the palpable tension between you, you decide to take the next step. You pause for a moment, looking up at him, ensuring that this is what he truly wants. His eyes, dark and intense, meet yours, and the gentle pressure of his hand in your hair is all the confirmation you need.

Slowly, you part your lips and take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip before gradually taking him deeper. The warmth and taste of him fill your senses, and you feel his whole body shudder in response. Alfie’s hand tightens in your hair, not forcefully, but in a way that guides and encourages you, his fingers threading through your strands with a tenderness that belies the raw desire between you.

You start with slow, deliberate movements, your mouth creating a rhythm that matches the rising and falling of his chest. Each time you take him deeper, you feel his body tense and hear the soft, husky sounds escaping his lips. The way he responds to you, the way his body reacts, pushes you to give him everything you have.

"Fuck," Alfie groans, his voice rough with pleasure. "You're fuckin' incredible. Don't stop." His words are a command and a plea, filled with a desperate need that resonates with your own.

Your hands find their place on his thighs, gripping them for support as you continue. The muscles beneath your fingers are tense, coiled with the anticipation of release. You hollow your cheeks, increasing the suction, and you can feel him responding to every move you make. The taste of him, the feel of his hardness against your tongue, and the sounds of his pleasure create a heady mix that drives you to go further, to push him closer to the edge.

Alfie’s hips begin to move in time with your motions, his breathing becoming more erratic. You can feel the tension building within him, his body on the edge of release. Your mouth works him with a determined rhythm, each movement designed to bring him closer to the brink, to draw out his pleasure.

As Alfie’s moans grow louder, you look up at him, your eyes meeting his. The connection between you is electric, charged with a shared intensity that transcends words. In this moment, you are his anchor, his solace, and his desire, all wrapped into one.

His grip on your hair tightens one last time as a deep, shuddering moan escapes his lips, signalling his impending climax. You brace yourself, ready to take all of him, determined to bring him to the release he so desperately needs. The anticipation builds within you as you feel him teetering on the edge.

Alfie’s body tenses, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. With a final, deep moan, he climaxes, his release filling your mouth. The taste of him is a heady blend of salt and musk, a testament to the intensity of his desire. You do your best to take all of him, savouring the moment and the intimacy it brings.

As the waves of his pleasure subside, Alfie gently but firmly pulls you up to his lap. His eyes have softened, now a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, more profound. He cradles your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing tenderly over your cheeks as he helps you clean up. The intimacy of the moment lingers, a quiet testament to the bond you've just deepened.

"Come ‘ere," he murmurs, his voice still rough from the intensity of his release. He reaches for a handkerchief from the desk, carefully wiping away any remnants with a gentleness that contrasts with his earlier ferocity. His touch is tender, each stroke of the cloth against your skin filled with a reverence that takes your breath away.

You sit straddling his lap, your arms resting around his neck, allowing him to care for you. There's a vulnerability in the way he tends to you, a silent acknowledgment of the connection between you. The room feels smaller, cosier, as if it has been transformed from the earlier chaos.

"Thank you," he whispers, his forehead resting against yours. The words are simple, yet they carry a weight of sincerity that resonates deeply within you. "You have no idea how much I fuckin’ needed that."

You smile softly, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "I’m here for you, Alfie. Always." The promise in your words is solid.

His eyes meet yours, filled with a complex mix of emotions—relief, gratitude, and a burgeoning affection. He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace. The world outside may be chaotic, but in this moment, you both find a rare, fragile peace in each other’s arms.

Nestled in Alfie's lap, you find a comforting rhythm in the gentle sway of your bodies. His fingers trail up and down your back, leaving a path of warmth and tenderness in their wake. The roughness of his hands contrasts beautifully with the softness of his touch, each stroke sending shivers down your spine. The feeling is intoxicating, grounding you in the moment.

You lean in closer, resting your head against his shoulder, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your touch is a soothing lullaby. Alfie presses a soft kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin, a silent promise of his presence and devotion.

"You're somethin’ else, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice a quiet rumble that vibrates through your entire being.

You lift your head to meet his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. "I could say the same about you, Alfie."

He chuckles softly, the sound deep and rich, filling the small space with a rare sense of contentment. His eyes soften as he looks at you, the hard edges of his usual demeanour melting away to reveal a man capable of profound tenderness. The transformation is striking, and it fills you with a sense of awe and affection.

You shift slightly, one hand coming up to cup his cheek. "It's nice to see you like this," you admit softly, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. "At peace." The admission is vulnerable, but it feels right, a reflection of the honesty that defines your relationship.

Alfie leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as if to savour the moment. "You bring out the best in me, darlin’," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "I dunno how, but you do." The admission is raw, honest, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

Alfie's hands continue their gentle exploration of your back, each touch a silent promise of safety and affection.

With a tender smile, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, feeling the way he melts into the kiss. It's not urgent or passionate, but slow and lingering. The sensation is intoxicating, a perfect blend of tenderness and desire.

When you finally pull back, Alfie's eyes are half-lidded, a serene expression on his face. "Stay with me," he says quietly, his voice carrying a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings. "Just like this."

You nod, your fingers threading through his hair as you lean in closer. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you whisper, your voice filled with a quiet certainty.

The two of you share a lingering kiss, a reaffirmation of your promises and the unbreakable bond between you. As you sit there, wrapped in each other's arms, you know that this—right here, right now—is where you both truly belong.

[pacifymebby]

Cuddle fucking with Alfie Solomons pls

It started slowly. Really slowly.

You woke up to the cold early morning, the sun not yet risen, the sheets half kicked off you leaving your shoulders exposed. You were cold, skin scattered with goosebumps, shivering just a little as you tried to shrink back beneath the quilt and press your body against Alfie's. His body was warm, you knew it would be because Alfie was your personal walking furnace and you were welcome to come snuggle against him whenever you needed warming through.

Half asleep you pressed your body against his, relaxing into the heat which radiated from his restful self. He was still asleep, at least you thought he was because his breaths were slow and lethargic, peaceful. But when he felt your back pressing against his chest, awake or asleep, your presence stirred him enough that he let out a quiet groan and shifted, raising his arm and wrapping it around you, squeezing you tighter to him, possessive as he was.

So, instinctively, you pressed yourself back against him a little more, wanting to be as close as possible to your man, wanting to feel the warmth from his chest radiate through you. And you did. Alfie had such a lulling, calming power over you and as you began to warm up in his tight embrace your eyes fluttered shut and you began to drift off.

There was only one thing keeping you from drifting off completely. The closeness between you, the feeling of his arms gripping you tight, holding your body tight to the curve of his so that not a milimeter of space remained between you. So that the pressure of his morning glory digging into your soft bottom was unignorable.

You were trying your best to think of anything else, to focus on anything else. To settle and go back to sleep even, but that slight pressure, the warmth of his erection, was impossible to tune out of. Perhaps if it had been anyone elses it would have been easy to drag yourself away from the bed, forget about them for the rest of the day and go about your business, but not when it was your Alfies. Not when only last night you'd come undone on it, his cock burried deep inside you, fucking into you even after he'd cum and his milky liquid was oozing out of you.

Not when you knew just how easily he could undo you all over again.

But he was sleeping. And Alfie liked to live slowly these days. Now that he had you. Now that he knew he could spend every morning with you wrapped up, naked, in his arms. Now that there was no rush he didn't like to rush. No. If there was one thing Alfie liked to try and teach you, it was patience.

So despite the instinctive roll of your hips, the way you wriggled against him, only almost subconsciously, he didn't stir. Instead he lay there, enjoying the feeling of your needy little wriggles, the way you tried to pretend at innocence when you rubbed your bottom against him and tried to feel a little friction. Instead he just lay there, still holding you nice and tight and snug, making sure you couldn't move too much, making sure you were still close enough to him that every move you made he certainly could enjoy... He wanted to make you wait. He wanted to leave you to your imagination for long enough that your thighs would be sweet at sticky before he'd moved a muscle.

And the more you wriggled and tried to get closer to him the harder he got, the heat between you almost as torturous for him as it was for you.

And even when he did decide to give you a little more, he didn't say a word and neither did you. You smiled to yourself as his calloused fingers teased over your skin, caressing first your shoulder, down your arm, then your waist. He tickled over the soft curve of your belly making you squirm against him, enjoying the way a giggle escaped your lips and ruined your pretence at sleep. He smirked to himself doing it again just for good measure, struggling to hold back the sigh of pleasure when your wriggling hips pushed back against his cock.

You squirmed again, enjoying the feeling of him digging into you, the pressure increasing as he got a little harder with your every move.

And when his hand moved over your breast and squeezed a handful, it was all you could do not to hum in pleasure and push yourself back closer to him once more. You needed him to touch you elsewhere. The more his fingers trailed over your hips and thighs, the more he massaged your breast and pinched at your nipple, rolling it between his thumb abd forefinger absentminded and behaving as if he had no idea the effect on you he was having, the more you needed him. Your core beginning to ache for him. A pulse circulating between your thighs which forced your hips back against him in a gentle, needy motion. Your persistent rhythm pleasing him more than he was letting onto you.

You could feel your arousal between your legs, sticky and desperate, gathering quicker than you'd have liked to admit had this been anyone but your Alfie. But this was your Alfie and your heart was racing in your chest because you knew that sooner or later he was going to take you somewhere no one else could.

You let out a devestating little whine when he hooked your leg with his and dragged your thighs apart, trapping you with your thighs split so that for a moment you were tortured by a breeze glistening over your sticky core, your clit shivering with the cool air stirring your senses.

You bucked your hips against the air and heard him chuckle, he was enjoying your frustration and naturally, that only frustrated you more.

But this was his favourite way to spend a lazy Sunday morning. Teasing you. Working you up into a needy, sticky mess between the sheets so that he could revel in the sight of your shivering body shaking with ecstacy when he finally gave you what you wanted.

He always told you that was his favourite view. Looking down at you bundled up in his arms, your fingers clutching at him as you shivered with your orgasm, moaning and whimpering into his chest. And even though every time he told you that you got embarrassed and blushy, shying away from him, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck, that only made the sight even more spectacular to him. Because he had all that power over you, and in that moment you needed him so much, holding onto him like your life depended on it, little tears of pleasurw gleaming in your eyes.

That was the sight he hoped to work towards that morning as he teased and toyed with you. Enjoying the way his touch left a trail of goosebumps wherever he traced his fingers.

He carried on wordlessly, listening to your breathing and smirking to himself when he recognised how shallow and needy you were beginning to sound. How when he took your hip in his hand and squeezed, when he rubbed his hand firmly over the curve of your bottom and massaged you, taking his time to feel every inch of your body, your breath hitched and you struggled to hide how desperate you were getting.

Because he'd been making a point of avoiding any real pleasure points. Had skimmed his fingertips briefly over your nipples but refused to give you any real satisfaction. Had let his fingers stray close enough to your core to remind you what you really needed, but hadn't so much as ventured to test how wet you were. Then again he didn't need to test that. He knew you well enough to know that by now your arousal would be slick and shining on your inner thighs, that when he did finally glide his fingers between your folds he'd feel that thick warm juice overflowing from your needy little cunt, just the way he liked it.

And he did. When he finally gave you a taste of what you'd been desperate for all this time, he dragged his lips over your shoulder and kissed a trail of warm notes up your neck, his breath tickling your skin, teasing your senses. His fingertips sliding slowly from bottom to top drawing a line between your lips and then finally brushing over your clit. Not enough pressure to truly satisfy you but enough to leave your heart racing, your whole body jolting with the shock of it.

You couldn't help the gasp which left you, sharp and, if he was being honest, music to his ears. You couldn't help the way your hips bucked forward to press yourself into his hand, your cunt rubbing over his two fingers, begging them to touch you harder and longer.

You wanted to whimper and whisper to him, beg him to stop teasing you, but that wasn't how this worked. It was an unspoken rule between you, that you didn't speak. That you kept that sleepy charade up until you were both exhausted and satiated, holding onto one another as you came down from your high.

So even when he really tried to torture you, dragging his fingers in a slow teasibg circle around your clit only to trail them up and away, painting a sticky sweet line of arousal along your naval to your belly button, you didn't say a word. You just closed your eyes and ground your bottom back against his cock, feeling its heat radiate through you, feeling the push as Alfie responded instinctually, grinding harder against you, scraping his teeth over a sensitive patch on your shoulder, kissing you there with his open mouth so that the pleasure washed over you from several places at once and left your head spinning. Your whole body tingling with that need, that desperation to satisfy your desires.

You whimpered again, your mouth open in a little oh as he trailed those two fingers back down your belly, back down your hips, returning to the warmth of your thighs. He held you in his rough palms, massaging your thighs, forcing your legs open a little wider so that your glistening core was left exposed and vulnerable. Throbbing between your legs. The draft torture. The way you bucked your hips and and met nothing but cool air driving you to despair so that when Alfie took your cheek in hand and made you look silently up at him, he saw those tears of desire in your eyes and he couldn't resist you any longer.

His fingers found your clit and pinched, your body jumping so that you wound up pressed even closer to him, him holding you tight and secure, pushing you down into the mattress beneath him. He propped himseld up to get a better view, looking down at you with lustful eyes which trailed the contours of your body slowly and took every inch of you in. He didn't just love you, you were his own private slice of heaven and on mornings like this he wanted only to devour you. Only to send you to heavenly places himself.

He rubbed you slowly at first, watching your breasts as if hypnotised by them, the rise and fall of your chest, the way your body began to shiver and tremble eratically when he rubbed you hard and then soft, slow and then fast. He touched you in a quick, slippery circle, his fingertip rolling over your little pearl over and over so that you began to lose control of yourself and your body quickly. The cascade of whimpers and whispered needy moans music to the older mans ears. You were coming undone for him so so easily and the sight was truly something to behold. Your trembling body spurring the ache inside him, his cock twitching against your soft curving ass. He wanted nothing more than to slip into you there and then, bury himself inside you.

And you needed to feel him inside you too, he could tell because your head had tilted back, resting on his shoulder, your eyes rolled back as the first intense wave of pleasure began to radiate through you. He'd hardly had to do a thing, barely had to touch you and there you were shaking, firework static pleasure errupting inside you, your skin tingling all over with the power of your orgasm. It left you feeling weak, needing him to keep you held together, your body pressed hard against his as he held you firm and secure and scattered hungry kisses over your neck. But he didn't stop, didn't bring you down from your high gently. Instead he acted almost as if he hadn't noticed your cumming at all. Instead he carried on playing with you, rolling your clit beneath his fingertips, rubbing your juices all over your perfect cunt, letting his fingers tease your opening so that you felt yourself clenching and twitching needily for him.

You could feel his cock digging into you from behind, so hard and hot, the heat teasing you, the weight of it as he took it in his hand and let it fall back against your glistening wet thighs, tormenting you because all you wanted then was for him to use it. To ruin you with it. Fill you up and fuck you until your sleepy little body could take no more.

His whiskers tickled your back as he nuzzled into you from behind, trailing his fingers over your thighs as he pushed your legs apart and adjusted you. You whimpered and gasped at his every movement, your senses heightened and over stimulated by his touch. His warm wet trail of open mouthed kisses down your neck, his cock rubbing between your folds, collecting the slick of your cum, his fingers flicking your swollen clit. Everything he did took you a little closer to the edge and even though you'd barely caught your breath from your first orgasm, you could already feel the tension in your abdomen as he built you up to another.

And then finally you felt the warm relief, the ache in your core finally satisfied as he pushed his cock into you slowly from behind. You were so sensitive that you were convinced you could feel every detail of his erection brushing up against your walls, stretching you out. Your pulse and his pulse racing together as he let out a low sleepy groan, one laced with desire.

He held himself there for a moment, pushing his hips against your bottom, burying himself as deep into you as he could. He held you still too so that although you were desperate to push back against him, to writhe against him and revel in that delightful friction, you couldn't. All you could do was give into him, let him do as he wanted with you, let him hold you there, your cunt clenching and relaxing around his throbbing cock.

Every now and then he flexed it inside you and you couldn't help the needy whimpers which escaped you. Couldn't help the little tears in your eyes. He was driving you to despair because it felt so good but it wasn't enough. You needed more of him, you needed the push and pull. And again you almost started begging, almost said Please, Alfie, please... But instead you whimpered, let out another trembling little moan and let him slip his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them to silence yourself as he used his other hand to carry on playing with you.

He groaned when, as he pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it between them mercilessly, you moaned over his fingers and your cunt clenched and squeezed his erection. Your whole body flinching, still trembling and shaking. He could feel your heartbeat in his chest, his racing in time with yours as finally he began to thrust in and out of you. He took it slow, he wanted to go gently, wanted to fuck you slowly and draw your shared ecstacy out for as long as he could.

He held you so tightly against him, digging his hips into you from behind as he pushed deeper inside you. His tip brushing your gspot with every thrust he made, the returning pleasure rolling over you like waves. It was heavenly and you could feel the tightening of another high winding inside you like a coil as Alfie rubbed his calloused fingers over your clit, the roughness of his touch against your swollen bud bringing you that burning pleasure, hot and almost unbearable.

You had that feeling like you could cry, like you just felt so good that that was all you could do, you could feel it building inside you like a sob that needed to escape but instead of crying your second orgasm drew only the sweetest tumble of moans and soft cries from you as Alfie overwhelmed you with kisses and pushed his fingers a little deeper inside your mouth, moaning into your ear as you trembled on his cock.

You'd never understand just how gorgeous you looked, how heavenly you appeared to him when you were all blissed out like that, delirious with pleasure. Your eyes closed, your chest glistening with a pretty sheen of sweat. Your whole body quivering, jumping and starting at every kiss he pressed to your skin, every flick and swirl of his fingers around your clit.

It was a sight he almost felt he was being robbed of, having you facing the wall and not him so he pulled out, chuckling at the pretty little whimper of dissapointment you let out when you felt his cock leave you, dragged out of you so suddenly.

But he was only turning you around, rolling you over so that your face was burried in his chest, the hair on his body tickling your cheeks as he wrapped his arms around you and held your head cradled in his hand.

He didn't need to tell you what to do and no sooner had he lifted you up to his eye level, one hand squeezing your bottom, holding you firmly in place, had you wrapped your legs around him. And it was easy for his cock to find your hole then, it was like a magnetism drawing you into one another, his tip rubbing over your folds, pushing between them gently as you ground against one another needily.

You looked up at him with your sleepy blissed out ayes, your lips catching his chin first and then his lips. And just as your lips conected he pushed himself all the way into you, burying his cock into you and catching you by surprise so that your mouth opened onto his, your moan vibrating against his tongue as he pushed between your lips and kissed you hungrily.

You felt so close to him then, so dependent, so in love. You felt like this was the only place you ever wanted or needed to be. Balanced on his cock, clinging onto him for life, your face buried in the crook of his neck as he fucked you slow and tender.

He kissed your hair, holding you tight and keeping you tucked up beneath his chin. His legs tangled with yours as he thrust into you at a dreamy lethargic pace and you closed your eyes nuzzling into him. Breathing in his scent, his familiar musk mixed with the salty smell of your sex.

With every thrust those relentless pleasure waves kept rolling through you, your head dizzy from your numerous highs. You screaped your teeth over his skin, nipping and kissing his shoulder as you tried to control yourself. You could feel yourself on the brink of letting go completely and you knew that this time, when you came once more, you wouldn't be able to keep any shred of composure. You'd let it all out the way he loved you to and then you'd collapse completely overwhelmed by him. Unable to let go, the two of you holding onto one another for dear life.

You could tell he was getting close now, his pace speeding up just a little, his breathing growing heavier, hotter against you as he burried his face in your neck and used his hands beneath your bottom to shift you up closer to him. Even the sensation of his skin on your skin was enough to send sparks shooting all over your body and when he groaned in your ear, you bit down on his shoulder and moaned low and sweet into his neck. The pressure building up inside you too only to come washing over you in slow, glowing waves seconds later when you felt his cock swell inside you before letting out a stream of thick, warm cum. You felt him filling you up, felt his cum seep deep inside of you as he carried on fucking you slowly, fucking his cum deeper and deeper as his cock shot another jet into your cunt. You clenched around him, squeezing him tight as he moved inside you and the two of you began to slow down together, bringing one another out of your high slowly and gently.

But he didn't pull out. Instead he remained burried inside you, holding his cum and your cum inside you, occasionally twitching inside you or pushing up into you, his hips grinding against yours as you whimpered and sighed with contentment against him.

He held your face in the palm of his hand and brushed his thumb across your rosy cheek. You had that beautiful blissed out dizzy expression on your face. Your eyes sleepy and glazed as though he'd fucked every last thought from your brain. And you honestly believed that he had, because when he bowed his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead before letting out a yawn and pretending to stretch, saying "mmm, good morning zieskiet, sleep well? You look like youve a head full of very lovely little dreams..."

You couldn't reply, all you could do was look up at him with your hazy eyes, your lips still quivering, your voice shaking when you whispered a little good morning to him too.

AN/ I have a tallest now and you can add yourself here

[solomons-finest-rum]

Saga!! You’re baaaack!! Lovely to see you around these parts again hun 😘 If you’re in the writing mood, can I interest you in a little gif of our favourite Camden based reprobate as inspiration? 😉 xxx

Thank you love! Good to be back (and make my favourite Camden gangster talk nonsense in my fics 🤭🤭🤭)

“Alfie…”

“That is still a ‘no’, luv, all right, and that is final.”

“Alfie Solomons, I am your wife!”

“Playin’ the wife card, are we, right, but two can play this game, sweetheart, yeah? Now, I ain’t one to play dirty, right, and don’t you roll those pretty eyes of yours at me, ‘cause I know what you’re about to say next and the answer’s still bloody ‘no’!”

“Alfie, I am begging you…!”

“Oh, now she’s beggin’, ain’t she, isn’t that a clever thing to do to your husband, right, makin’ ‘im feel all sorts of notions just to win the argument, right, now listen to me, Mrs. Solomons, you women are a clever little breed, right, entirely overlooked and undervalued, yeah, I realise that, luv, an’ I can see that ‘cause you yourself are exceptionally clever, my love, so much so that you went an’ married a clever man, right, a trait that doesn’t apply too often to my kind… There she goes and rolls her eyes again, bloody hell, come back here, woman!”

“No!”

“Come back here at once, ya vexin’ creature, an’ no stompin’ on the bloody stairs, you’ll wake the dogs!”

“Don’t bring the dogs into this!”

“I’ll do as I damn well please in my own fuckin’ house that I paid for!”

“You, Alfie Solomons, are unbelievable!”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment and you know it!”

“Hush now, luv, let’s not argue, right, ‘cause I can take no more of this–”

“Alfie!”

“Right, an’ I can be the bigger person here, darlin’, and to say I love an’ cherish you more than life itself would be an understatement–”

“Unbelievable!”

“So I forgive ya.”

“Go to hell!”

“How many times must I tell ya I already got the ticket done and paid for?!”

“I swear on my brothers, Alfie, I will join you there, because I’ll bloody go and murder my own husband if his nonsense continues!”

“Right! Fuck! Now that right there is just fuckin’ brilliant, right, ‘cause your lovin’ brother is what started the whole fuckin’ thing!”

“Alfie Solomons, you put on a clean shirt right this instance and accompany me to my brother’s wedding or I swear to God, I’ll gut ya with a butter knife!”

“John bloody Shelby gets married at least every other October, what fuckin’ difference does it make if I come or not?!”

“You take that back!”

“Why should I fuckin’ take it back, right, if it’s true?!”

“A butter knife, Alfie Solomons, I swear to God!”

“Naaah, but do ya promise, dearest?! ‘Cause it’s a lovely set your Tommy got us for our anniversary, shame if it fuckin’ goes to waste…! What are ya laughin’ about now?”

“Nothin’… Oh God, Alfie, I bloody love you, you know that?”

“That a trick or somethin’…?”

“No! I just… God, Tommy always said I took after Polly, I just never knew how much… This is bloody ridiculous.”

“Right, you… Right, stop laughin’, woman, you’re bloody ridiculous, stand still… Now your lipstick’s all over the– an’ what was that for?”

“I love you, Alfie Solomons.”

“Right, now, I love ya too, alright, even though you Shelbys are all equally fuckin’ crazy...”

“You knew what you married into.”

“That I bloody did.”

[charliehoennam]

sweet stranger pt. 2

Summary: the war veteran Alfie falls in love with a stranger in hopes of returning to his old self

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, reader is a sex worker, mentions of past relationships.

SHARING IS CARING, REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT.

part one

With each passing day, you wake up earlier than usual and lay in bed staring at your ceiling thinking about him.

It seems like he’s everywhere you go, even in the most unlikely places. A voice similar to his, a passerby with his same cologne, a hatted board figure in the crowd of the busy streets of the city.

Haunted by his spirit, the face of every client you amuse fuses into his. You close your eyes to pretend like you’re with him again, trying to ignore that the voices and touches are different like you’re stuck in a secret teenage fantasy. You’ve even taken a liking to rum simply because the scent of it reminds you of him.

Your head bobbles from side to side as the car drives over the cobblestones while you watch the people outside going about their day.

Smiling to yourself, you watch the younger ones laughing and fearlessly enjoying themselves while some others are most likely returning home to turn in for the evening.

Unlike you, who is on her way to work.

At least, that’s what you try to remind yourself that this is. Even though you’re on your way to see your favorite client, you’re reminded of what it felt like to be young and carelessly in love.

James stops the car in front of The Brown’s hotel and climbs out of the Roll-Royce to hold your hand as you climb off yourself. You thank him and adjust your hat before walking into the hotel.

Everything is as the first time you met Alfie. The same hotel, the same room. And you don’t mind it at all. The man has good taste.

You look forward to these encounters with him because he always treats you like a gentleman treats a woman. Like you’re more than just a warm body and a pretty face to be paraded around. Like you’re actually human and he genuinely cares about you.

“ ‘ello, love,” he grins. “You look splendid” he kisses your cheek as you walk inside.

“Thank you, Alf. You look handsome as always.”

Just like the other encounters, he takes your coat and hat and sets them on the rack by the door.

He’s much more at ease now in comparison to the first night. And much more passionate too. Sure, you’ve taught him a couple lessons on how to pleasure a woman here and there, but he’s more comfortable now with himself and the matter despite his ailments.

“Got a nice glass of wine waiting for you, love. Go on, have a seat” he nods at the chairs placed in front of the fireplace.

“Thank you, Alfie. You spoil me too much.”

You take a seat in the soft large armchair as he kneels in front of you, gently taking your ankle in hand to lift your foot onto his bended knee.

“How was your day, love?” he asks unclasping your shoe.

“Got up to much?” You smile and nod at him, going on about your day. You try to omit the complaints about it to spare your client of the off-putting stress, but he catches onto you.

“Be honest, love. I can tell you’ve ‘ad a long one ey? Tell me all about it. I wanna ‘ear it all.”

It’s hard not to feel like he’s more than a friend. You have to keep reminding yourself that he’s a client, only a client and nothing more.

Opening up about the troubles of your day and the pricks you dealt with throughout it, he laughs listening to you as he lifts your other foot up to remove your other shoe and gives your foot a gentle squeeze.

“Want me to give those blokes a right talkin’ to, yeah? Set ‘em right for talking to ya that way?”

“Would you really?” you smile down at him.

“ ‘Course I would, love. You’re my girl. Won’t let no one mistreat ya” he smirks standing back up with the help of your chair before planting a kiss on your forehead.

“That’s sweet of you, Alf. But I don’t want you getting into trouble over me.” “Darling, I’d raise hell for ya, love."

Part of you would like to believe he really would and indulge in the idea you could be loved like the young lovers you saw on the drive over. The other part of you has been there before, falling so stupidly in love that you would risk everything you have even though it's not much.

Regardless if he meant his words or not, they seem to melt away to the back of your mind with his touches and kisses that follow.

His bearded kisses pepper your chest as you ride him, letting him stare up at your breasts as they hang and bounce just inches away from his face.

One of his hands sits on your ass, squeezing the flesh to the intensity of the pleasure you fill him with. The other hand kneads at your hip, guiding it up and down his cock. His beard burns as it scratches against your skin, his warm mouth and flicking tongue enveloping your nipples. He could feast on them for days if you let him.

You moan reveling in the thickness of his cock, grinding your clit against the soft hairs of his public area as you hold your weight up on the headboard making the wood thump repeatedly against the wall.

The phone in the hotel's front desk must be ringing nonstop with complaints from the people staying in the room, but Alfie's reputation has the entire staff too scared to ring his room and tell him to quiet down.

From the other room, repeated thumps bang against the wall in protest of your obnoxiously loud love-making. Alfie laughs enjoying the fact that people can hear you and he's not bothered by it at all.

"Let's give 'em something to shout about ey, love?" he laughs stilling your hips for a moment. You giggle at the excitement of what Alfie has in store.

Holding the small of your back, he flips you onto your back to hover himself over your frame as he places himself between your legs.

"Hold your legs back for me, sweetheart."

Placing his hands on the headboard was strategic, but also convenient for the position and favored his physical limitation. Despite the limp he was quite known to have occasionally, it was doing nothing to stop him in bed.

Having spent so many a night with you has allowed him to study different positions and learn more about his body so as to make sex more comfortable and more than satisfying.

The messy hair and boyish grin he flashes at you as he slides his wet dick back into your cunt makes you forget this is just another business meeting. The mere fact that you’ve allowed him – and only him – to fuck you without protection speaks volumes.

Your hands wrap the backs of your thighs, holding your legs back to let him split you with his girthy member.

"Brace yourself, love" he smirks. His hips begin snapping against yours, filling the room with the ungodly music of his balls slapping against your ass. The rhythm he sets has the headboard banging even louder and steadier than before. The wetness pooling around his cock adds to the music.

Every inch of him hits every delicious spot within you and has your eyes rolling to the back of your head with this new position.

Although the pleasure is so intense on his raw cock, Alfie tries his best to keep his eyes open to watch the bounce of your tits, your swollen pussy swallowing him whole, the dazed look of your siren eyes as they meet his begging him for more.

"Fucking 'ell, love" he pants through his unyielding pace.

Praises that spill from your pouty lips finally send him over the edge. He pulls himself out and rubs his tip up and down against your clit to avoid releasing inside you.

He hates that it's one of the rules, but even now, he's thoughtful enough to keep that in mind. If things were different and he was yours, he'd be spilling into you every night.

To help him cum, you lower your hand down to sink his length deeper, sandwiching his dick between your soaking cunt and hand. You watch as his body tenses at the feeling of fucking your palm and cunt and he finally cums, covering your mound and abdomen in white ropes of his homage up.

Lost in the post-sex haze, he can't even think as he tries to catch his breath. All he can focus on is how pretty you look covered in his seed and fucked out of your sane mind. So, he acts and leaves you both stunned.

His head lowers and he kisses your lips tenderly. It dawns on him that this is the one sexual act you've never done and yet, somehow, the most intimate. He withdraws from the kiss, but doesn't pull away entirely; just enough to analyze your reaction.

No client has ever kissed you before. You would never let them because a kiss could blur the line between work and romance. But you can't explain what makes you kiss him again.

It melts you both from within as you give into the feelings that have been churning and yearning for each other for months now.

He pulls away from the passionate kiss, interrupted by the neighboring guest banging on the wall again and shares another laugh with you.

You smile happily as Alfie's arms give out. His weight is heavy but welcomed into your arms as he lays down on top of you.

"Think we're driving him mad?" You smirk.

"I think we might be, yeah" he chuckles. "Let's take a bath and give him a break." You smile and nod agreeing.

As he gets up and walks to the bathroom to take a towel and clean you up, you lay on the bed thinking about the kiss. About how his plush lips felt against yours. The smell of earthy oil he uses on his beard.

As Alfie turns the faucet to moisten the towel for you, he wonders if he made a mistake.

He comes back to clean you up with gentle swipes while the tub fills with water and bubbles.

You're sat on opposite ends, facing each other the porcelain bath, exchanging pleasantries and foot rubs.

"You know, I've been meaning to talk bout something with ya, love..." he starts.

You frown as your hands slowly still, wrapped around his foot and question if he’s not satisfied with you or if you did something to upset him. You pray it's not about the kiss.

“No, love!” he chuckles shaking his head as he sits up and leans forward, withdrawing his foot from your hands and replaces it with his hands.

“It’s quite the opposite, really. ‘ve come to really appreciate these moments with you.”

Your heart races as you wait for his words, studying his face as he keeps his gaze away from you.

“Thing is, right, and I might be a fool for this. And it’s a completely fucking shot in the dark, innit. Feel silly saying this out loud, but it’s been in my head, yeah? These get-togethers we’ve been ‘aving. And I’ve come to realize that I enjoy them too much to let them end…”

You gaze at him hopelessly and ask what he means with such a confession.

“I know what I am. I know what you are, love” his voice lowers with severity as his brows drop and furrow at his own thoughts. “I’m saying… maybe, if you agree to it, you don’t have to go on with this area of expertise. I could buy you out.”

The thought of having a Prince Charming to come and rescue you from the life fills you with hope, but happy endings only happen in fairy tales.

The reason you got into this life in the first place was because you trusted your ex. When you met him in your hometown, he was a knight in shining armor who whisked you away to London. You hoped for paradise and yet, all you found was hell.

Alfie is not to blame for his mistakes, and neither are you. But you don't want to fall into your old ways of believing love cures all. Only you know how helpless and alone you felt until you finally found the courage to leave him and make a living for yourself.

You want to take the leap and dive into what could be with Alfie and, at the same time, you've heard this story before from other poor boys who claimed they were falling in love with you.

Seems easy, doesn’t it? You could have him all to yourself. All it takes is a leap of faith into his words, but the jump never looks so easy when you’re up high on the ledge fearing the strength of a slightly stronger gust of wind.

"It'll pass" you told them.

But Alfie is nothing like those boys. He's a man, there's no denying that. A protector, a provider, but also a criminal, a gangster. What life would you have with him?

Another matter that separates him from the rest is the small fact that you've also been having feelings for him.

"Alfie, that is very sweet of you to suggest..." You start.

"But?" He smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes as if he already knows what you're about to say.

"But I've been through this before. I don't want to be dependent on someone again like I have been in the past. What would I do for work?"

"You could work with me. I'm in need of an assistant."

"I've never even typed a letter before, Alfie. What good would I be?"

"I could teach you."

"I think you should hire someone more qualified for the position, Alf."

He nods letting his head hang taking the reference to the assistant position as an answer to his proposal.

"It's alright, love. I understand."

Although you can tell he wants to convince you, he doesn’t push on the matter.

Alfie may be a criminal, but he will always be a gentleman to you. You’re a woman in a special place in his heart. The last thing he ever wants to be is the cause of your discomfort.

He can’t deny it doesn’t shatter his hopes. He manages to painfully swallow the shards down and accepts your decision…for the night, that is. Romance novels never really piqued his interest, but he’s a lover deep inside and is set on fighting for you because the only nights he’s able to sleep – and sleep well enough to wake up refreshed and reborn in the morning – is when he sleeps with you.

The subject doesn't come back up for the rest of the night. You go on about it as if it was never even mentioned.

Both of you decide to leave the matter at rest for now and not bring it up at all after that talk in the tub.

The weekends are always the busiest. Which is why you're getting ready to escort one of the wealthiest clients to an opera.

As usual, you meet James as he waits beside the Rolls-Royce parked just outside. He helps you climb inside before getting in as well to drive.

You notice the path he makes leads away from the opera house instead of towards it. You frown and lower the partition.

"James, I thought I was going to the opera?"

"Change of plans, Miss. Mr. Abernathy's cancelled."

"But he always requests for my companionship and mine alone."

"Aye, miss. But someone else's requested you tonight. Someone with more money. And I hear Mr. Abernathy's fallen ill, he says. Ill with two black eyes," he chuckles. "I think he's gone and gotten himself into trouble."

You nod, but find the story a bit hard to believe.

You watch the streets as you make the familiar way to the Brown's Hotel.

James informs you the room number to request for at the front desk as he helps you out of the car. Walking to the familiar room, you feel a chill crawl up your spine.

Something tells you the trouble Mr. Abernathy's gotten himself into was to sway him into cancelling his appointment with you.

The door opens and the familiar bearded face smiles widely at you as Alfie greets you.

"Ello, love."

[loulouwrites]

THE NIGHT WATCH . ALFIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie's eldest son is sick - he won't leave his bedside. warnings: illness, swearing, thoughts surrounding the death of a child, melancholy, unedited, angst, violence, discussions regarding the death of a child word count: 1.5k a/n: a lil drabble form the home series! i'm honoured by the love people have for this family. i know i'm not the most active on here but i just wanna say if anybody wants to talk to me (about anything) don't hesitate to hit me up! (i am still putting my taglist together but I completely forgot about it when I wrote this - forgive me pls)

It had been going around for a while now.

Some illness spreading around London that had children dropping left, right and centre.

Some children barely got a sore throat, and those that did were usually better after a few days, but he had heard the stories of the unlucky few, the children that had been bed bound for weeks before silently passing in their sleep.

He hadn't thought much of it at first - he found stories about other people's children mind numbingly boring - even the saddest accounts he had heard had barely registered in his mind.

When Benjamin had started coughing one morning, he had rolled his eyes, insisting he wouldn't get out of school that easily. His wife - who was gentler and kinder than he could ever be - had laid her hands on her son's cheeks, instructing him to go back to bed with a kiss on his forehead.

It had caused quite a tiff between the couple.

"You're too fuckin' soft," Alfie had told her, pointing an accusatory finger in her face.

"And you're too fucking hard on him," she had spat back, smacking his hand away.

She had been right, of course.

When Alfie returned home that night, the house was eerily quiet. No children greeted him at the door, even Bubbe the dog had barely looked up from her bed by the fireplace.

He had found them in the master bedroom, his wife had pulled up a chair next to the bed, and was dabbing a damp cloth on his son's forehead.

He would never forget the way Benjamin looked lying on the bed, his face pale and his hair sticking to his forehead, the wheezing breaths he took being the only sound in the room.

"I sent the children to my mum's," his wife had said, sitting with her back to him, her eyes completely focused on her little boy lying in the bed. "The doctor said it's highly contagious so they shouldn't be around him - or us."

He could tell she had been crying, her voice quiet and shaky.

Alfie didn't say anything in response, because what could he say? He stepped further in the room, moving to sit at the foot of the bed, his eyes trained on Benjamin's limp body.

"He's fucking boiling, Alfie," she choked out a sob, "he's so hot but he won't stop fucking shivering, I don't know what to do."

Alfie watched as his wife's body shook with sobs, putting her head in her hands as he sat on the bed, silent, confused, and so very scared.

"He'll be alright," his voice held no conviction, almost as shaky as her's was. "He's a tough lad-"

"No, he isn't," she cried, lifting her head from her hands to look at her husband. "He isn't. He's sweet and gentle, he isn't tough."

"Love," Alfie shook his head, leaning forward slightly, but she cut him off.

"It doesn't matter anyways, it doesn't matter how tough he is - or isn't - kids have died, Alfie, they've died from this."

She stood from her seat, pacing the room as he looked on helplessly. He had seen her scared before, he had seen her sad and everything in between, but nothing compared to how she looked now. Her hair was a mess, her makeup had smudged, and there was already dark circles beginning to form underneath her damp eyes.

"Listen," Alfie rose from the bed, placing his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place. "He's going to be fine."

"You don't know that," she whispered, hanging her head.

"And you don't know he won't be," he bowed his head to meet her eyes, "but we're going to do everything we can do to help him, yeah?"

"Yeah," she sighed.

That had been hours ago.

It was almost three in the morning as Alfie sat on the chair beside the bed, a dimp lamp casting a soft glow on his son's pale face. His wife had fallen asleep on the bed next to Benjamin, and the room was silent apart from the occasional raspy breath from his son.

This was all he could do.

All he could do to help his son was to sit by his bedside and watch him breathe, watch for any sign that Benjamin was struggling, and to press the damp cloth to his face whenever a shiver broke out of his body.

He had never felt more useless in his life.

If it were any other situation, they would know what to do. If Benjamin had cut his knee when he was playing, his mother would be able to patch him up and make him feel better, if he had gotten into trouble at school, Alfie could pay the teacher's a visit to make sure it never happened again.

But this was completely in the hands of God.

Alfie wasn't a particularly religious man - not in the common sense of the word, at least. He was proud of his identity, he enjoyed the community and sense of belonging it gave him, but he fell short when it came to the believing part of his religion.

He had always thought God was something people used as a comfort in their darkest times, or as an excuse for things not working out the way they had wanted it to, it was never particularly real to him. Yet, as he sat at his son's bedside, with nothing to offer him but a damp cloth, he found himself bowing his head, and silently praying to God that Benjamin would be okay.

He hoped this would be the first time God listened to him.

The doctor had arrived early the next morning, prodding and poking the sick child and humming to himself.

Alfie stood by the doorway with his wife, both of them shuffling slightly on the feet as they waited for the doctor to finish his assessment, their patience wearing thinner with every passing second.

The doctor sighed when he turned to face the parents, a frown on his old and battered face, his beard moving as he scrunched his mouth.

"I see no improvements," he had spoke, and Alfie had to grasp his wife by her waist when he body began to collapse, another sob racking her body.

"What does that mean?" Alfie asked, his hands still secure around his crying wife.

"It means that you should prepare for the worst."

"No, no, no, no," she whispered, her legs giving way for the second time.

"If he recovers it will be a miracle, I've seen stronger boys succumb to this illness."

Maybe it was the doctor's tone of indifference when he spoke, maybe it was the feeling of his wife's body shaking uncontrollably in his arms, maybe he was just looking for somebody to take his frustration out on, whatever possessed Alfie in that moment to let go of his wife and grab the doctor by the collar, slamming his body into the wall, was as fierce and raw as the fear gripping his heart.

"Now you listen here," Alfie growled, his face inches away from the doctor's. "My son will not die. You know how I know that?" the doctor shook his head, his face reddening in fear. "I know that because you are going to fix him. If you don't, it'll be your body they wheel out of here."

The doctor's eyes widened, and Alfie was sure he was about to start crying. "Mr Solomons, there's nothing I can do, I would if I could-"

"You will," Alfie roared, pulling the doctor back slightly only to slam him back into the wall harder. "You will find a way."

Just as Alfie pulled his arm back, his hand curled into a fist, his wife's voice called out to him.

"This won't help Benjamin, Alfie. Just stop it."

Alfie released the doctor, who gasped for breath, his face pale. He turned to his wife, his face softening. "He can't die."

She walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "He won't die," she muttered into his chest, "you won't let him."

It was nearing nine o'clock at night when Benjamin started to stir in the bed. His mother had yet again, fallen asleep at his side, and Alfie was sat in the uncomfortable chair by the bed.

"Dad?" He whispered, his voice weak.

"I'm here, mate," Alfie said, his voice catching in his throat. "I'm here."

"I don't feel well."

"You're not well, mate," Alfie leaned forward, placing his palm on Benjamin's forehead, which was already beginning to cool.

"I told you I wasn't just trying to get out of school," Benjamin choked out, and Alfie let out a hearty laugh, startling his wife awake.

"Oh, thank God," she breathed, sitting up and cupping Benjamin's face in her hands. "Thank God."

"You might catch it, mum," Benjamin groaned when his mother bent down to pepper kisses on his face.

"Still sharp as ever, I see," Alfie muttered, the tension in his body seemingly disappearing.

"We need to ring the doctor," his wife said, and Alfie shot her an unimpressed look in response. "A different doctor," she conceded. "Though him being awake means the worst is over."

"What did I tell ya?" Alfie grinned. "Tough as nails, this one."

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

The Boogeyman (Alfie Solomons x Reader) 🎃Halloween Special🎃 ONESHOT

(UNEDITED) Pairing: Monster!Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 21,697

Warnings: SMUT (p in v, dry humping, forest sex, oral!fem receiving), age gap, child murders, eating children, Dark!Alfie, obsessive!Alfie, controlling Summary: "Do not misbehave, be a good girl. And no matter what. Never! enter the woods. He will get you." In a small village plagued by the ominous presence of the Boogeyman, you, a young and curious woman, find your world forever altered when you cross paths with Alfie Solomons, an enigmatic and older man. Instantly captivated by his mystique, you're drawn into his intriguing world, but as your connection deepens, you can't help but wonder if your newfound association with him will lead to unforeseen danger and consequences. A/N: This is an AU is set back in time with no real timeline and more than likely not in London. And literally after writing this out, I realised that this story would have been way better for Eddie Brock and Venom but...too late! It's also a bit fast paced but I got a lot to fit into a one shot so...it is what it is. This is also written in second person.

⛓🥀⛓ "Do not misbehave, be a good girl. And no matter what. Never! enter the woods. He will get you."

Parents would solemnly caution the young ones throughout the quiet village each and every night, their voices laden with apprehension.

"Don't be fooled," Mama repeated, her voice like a broken record.

The Boogeyman, that dreaded spectre that parents invoked to instil discipline, was a shadowy legend, perpetually elusive yet steadfastly believed. Has anyone ever truly encountered this enigmatic figure? The resounding answer was no, rendering him nothing more than a tale spun to terrify. 

But, oh, how parents revealed such a lie! In our village, renowned for its disquieting history of frequent child disappearances, this sinister persona took root. The lore declared that the Boogeyman would " abduct children and consume them," using his uncanny abilities to manipulate young minds, often infiltrating their dreams. This malevolent entity remained shrouded in darkness, dwelling deep within the heart of the forbidding forest, where the realms of reality and nightmare intertwined.

As you reclined in my bed, your gaze fixed on the window, the ethereal moonlight casting eerie shadows of leaves that relentlessly scraped against the glass, you couldn't help but wonder about the secrets concealed within those unfathomable woods. The nights blurred into years, and the elusive forest seemed to guard its enigmas ever more jealousy.

Clusters of trees interwoven like an impenetrable tapestry obscured any glimpse of what lay beyond. What mysteries lurked in the depths of the woods, where no child from our village was ever meant to tread? 

The yearning to explore that forbidden forest gnawed at you like an insatiable hunger. Just one opportunity to venture into the forest, to unravel its mysteries, was all you wished for. Yet, you were all too aware of Mama's unwavering resolve. She would never permit such a reckless escapade. You understood that desiring something as audacious as this was a perilous secret to harbour, for if word got out, the entire village would erupt in frenzy.

But what if there was something more to the forest, something beyond the tales of the Boogeyman? The adults, you reasoned, were only trying to protect the kids. Still, the allure of the unknown tugged at my curiosity like a relentless tide. It whispered promises of discovery and adventure, an escape from the mundane routine of our sheltered lives. And so, as you lay there, bathed in the soft glow of the moon, the forest beckoned with its tantalising mysteries, a riddle yet to be unravelled.

⛓🥀⛓ Morning arrived, accompanied by the gentle caress of the sun's warm tendrils sneaking through the window's gaps. Your eyes fluttered open, revealing the monotonous wooden confines of my unremarkable bedroom. Stretching one leg to touch the floor while the other dangled over the edge, you yawned and rubbed the remnants of sleep from my eyes. With a determined sigh, you pushed yourself upright and began the descent down the creaky staircase.

Mama's voice, as predictable as the rising sun, greeted me with a mild scolding. "It's nearly midday, Y/n. When will you learn to rise at a reasonable hour? You're 18 years old, not 80."

You met her reproach with a weary but respectful response. "I'm sorry, Mama," you replied, trudging wearily into the kitchen, where Mama was carefully slicing a fresh loaf of bread. 

Her eyes, softened by maternal concern, met yours. "We're heading to the market today, dear. Please make an effort to look presentable."

You let out a resigned sigh, feeling the weight of her expectations pressing upon my shoulders. With reluctant steps, you retreated to your room, ready to face the day and the mysteries that the forest held, if only in your imagination.

⛓🥀⛓ The clamour of people rushing about engulfed you as you navigated through the bustling town. With your head held low, you stuck close to Mama, blending into her side as though seeking refuge in her presence.

Mama, sensing the need for a change, extended a few coins in your direction, her words laden with expectation ."Go look for some better clothes that actually fit you, or maybe even some fabric," she instructed, then wandered off into the throng, leaving you to fend for yourself.

A sense of unease washed over you. Can't she come with me? The bustling market felt overwhelming, and you yearned for her reassuring presence amid the chaos.

You didn't like the idea of solitude, especially in the midst of this bustling crowd, but Mama's directives were not to be questioned. Suppressing your apprehension, you ventured forth towards the market's clothing section.

As you progressed, you couldn't help but notice the fresh additions to the heart-wrenching collection of missing children posters. They clung to tent posts and any available surface like desperate pleas for help. Your heart ached for those unfortunate souls, caught in the enigmatic grasp of the forest.

Despite the vibrant array of exotic colours adorning various articles of clothing and accessories. Among them, a couple of red skirts caught your eye, but none truly ignited your interest. With a sigh of disappointment, you turned away and continued down the bustling road.

As you wandered, you couldn't help but observe the people around you. Many seemed to adhere to a similar aesthetic – modest attire befitting the lower class, much like your own clothing. The crowd blurred into a sea of similarity, with individuals seamlessly merging into the tapestry of the town's daily life. 

However, amidst this sea of sameness, one figure stood out like an anomaly in the fabric of reality. It was a man, and although it seemed impossible, his presence had an uncanny ability to halt the world in its tracks.

He stood out to you, those grey eyes reminiscent of a universe filled with stars. A wide-brimmed pork pie hat sat atop of his brown hair, and a scruffy beard added an air of rugged refinement. His countenance bore a hardness that could easily be intimidating to those who dared to gaze upon it. In truth, you could endlessly enumerate the myriad qualities that rendered this man devilishly handsome.

Caught in his magnetic presence, you found yourself in a dreamy reverie, utterly reluctant to divert your gaze even for a fleeting moment. The world around you seemed to blur, leaving only the enigmatic stranger at the centre of your attention, a captivating mystery in the midst of the mundane.

As if on cue, his gaze locked onto yours, and you found yourself frozen in place. The sheer shock of the moment left you dumbfounded. However, he remained unruffled, and a sly smirk graced his lips. It was as though he relished the effect he had on you, causing an undeniable rush of heat to surge to your cheeks. In your flustered state, you instinctively averted your eyes to the ground, attempting to make a quick escape. Yet, your retreat was abruptly halted as you were whisked away, pinned against a nearby stall.

Your body stiffened as you looked up, meeting the intense gaze of your captor. Under his compelling presence, you couldn't help but tremble. It was the very same man who had captured your attention moments earlier with his striking charm. Now, he stood before you, effectively trapping you between him and the market stall. With a blend of sweetness and cockiness, he parted his luscious lips to speak.

"I saw you looking at me back there, what's your name?" he inquired, his cockney voice bearing a rich, raspy timbre that sent your heart into a frenzied race.

Swallowing hard, you struggled to steady your trembling nerves. "Come on, little Dove," you flinched as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Drawing even closer, he narrowed the distance between your faces. His warm breath caressed your skin as he pressed, "What's your name?"

"Y-Y/n," you managed to stutter out, your voice betraying your anxiety.

"Such a beautiful name you have," he purred, his name rolling off his tongue like a seductive melody. "Alfie."

His fingers gently caressed your cheek, coaxing your fearful gaze to meet his. "Don't be frightened, little Dove," he reassured, his words a soothing balm to your anxiety. "I won't hurt you."

Alfie continued to stroke his thumb against your flushed cheeks, a gesture that sent a shiver down your spine. Just as he was on the verge of speaking again, the sound of your mama's voice suddenly shattered the moment, putting a halt to his words.

"I hope to see you again," he whispered, his words carrying a weight of longing, before gracefully retreating from your alarmed presence and blending once more into the bustling crowd.

Exhaling deeply, you realised you had been subconsciously holding your breath during this intense encounter. Slowly, you managed to pull yourself together and step back onto the bustling street. With a quivering breath, you looked up and spotted Mama approaching, carrying two bags filled with provisions.

"What's left you so shaken, dear? Did you find anything at all?" Mama inquired with concern, her gaze searching your face for answers.

You shook your head, unable to articulate the unusual encounter you had just experienced. Mama let out a sigh of understanding. "Very well, let's go home now," she said, her tone a mix of curiosity and resignation, leaving the mysteries of the market behind as you both headed for the familiarity and safety of home.

The journey back home was marked by a heavy silence, your thoughts still consumed by the enigmatic man, Alfie. He had both unsettled and fascinated you in equal measure. Despite the intrigue, a part of you fervently hoped to never cross paths with him again, uncertain of how much more you could withstand.

The world outside seemed to blur into insignificance as your mind replayed the encounter with Alfie. His image and that rich, raspy voice lingered in your thoughts. 

Your home lay on the outskirts of the village, necessitating a slightly longer walk. It took at least 10 minutes to reach your dwelling from anyone else in the village. Remarkably, you and Mama had managed to reside on the very edge of the village grounds, avoiding the ominous forest that loomed nearby.

Upon your return home, you couldn't resist the impulse to retreat to your room. You sprawled on your bed, trying to shake off the lingering presence of Alfie's airy voice that seemed to echo in your ears.

"Don't be scared of me, little Dove, I won't hurt you," his soothing words replayed in your mind, causing your heart to pound like a drum.

Your hand involuntarily slapped against your chest, attempting to quell the rapid, erratic rhythm that reverberated beneath your palm. Each thud seemed to resonate with the enigmatic encounter, leaving you in a state of restless disquietude.

What is it about him that makes my heart go crazy?

Without realising it, night had descended much faster than you anticipated, and a steaming dinner awaited your ravenous appetite. Each step you took seemed to drag out, your thoughts ensnared in a web of contemplation from which you couldn't break free. You lowered yourself into a dining chair, your movements slow and deliberate, as if trapped in a dreamlike state. Mama regarded you with a perplexed expression, her muttered comment cutting through the silence.

"Bloody weirdo," she mumbled, her words just audible enough to reach your ears.

You remained silent, the weight of the encounter with the man still lingering heavily in your thoughts. Picking up your fork, you mechanically shovelled food into your mouth, then efficiently tidied up before retreating to your room. Your body felt heavy as you trudged over to your bed, succumbing to the embrace of sleep almost instantly. The mysteries of the day, the enigmatic Alfie, and the forest beyond the village faded into the recesses of your mind as dreams took over.

⛓🥀⛓ Surrounded by a vibrant sea of flowers, you found yourself enchanted by the beauty that encircled you. Each blossom held a unique allure, and you couldn't help but admire each one.

"I knew you'd like them, they're all for you," he murmured, his words sending a warm rush of happiness through your veins.

It was a feeling of being cherished, of finally holding significance in someone's life. A wide, uncontrollable grin crept across your face, illuminated by his presence.

"Is that smile for me?" He inquired with a gentle sweetness, his arms encircling your waist from behind.

His lips brushed from your shoulder to your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. 

"Just remember," he whispered softly, "you are only mine and always mine."

The possessiveness in his voice was undeniable, creating an electrifying tension in the air that left you both exhilarated and apprehensive.

⛓🥀⛓ You jolted awake from your slumber, shock coursing through your body as the remnants of the dream lingered in your mind.

It was him!

Struggling to shake off the vivid images from your dream, you hauled yourself out of bed. Each step felt like a deliberate effort as you ascended the stairs.

Near the top, Mama's voice sliced through your thoughts, her tone edged with curiosity and concern. "Are you going to continue acting strange today?" she inquired, her brow arching with a mix of annoyance and worry.

"No, Mama, I'm sorry," you replied softly, feeling a twinge of guilt as you hang your head low. You grabbed a slice of bread, your appetite subdued, and retreated to the solace of your room, leaving behind a lingering sense of intrigue and unease.

Alfie, his presence, and the enigma he embodied dominated your thoughts, stubbornly refusing to yield to anything else. Every attempt to divert your mind led it inexorably back to him. 

Feeling compelled by this man who had entered your life so fleetingly, you found yourself instinctively preparing to venture out. There was no concrete reason, but an unexplainable desire drove you to wander the town for the day. Could it really be because of him? It seemed preposterous, yet undeniable.

Descending the stairs, you mulled over the notion of turning back and retreating to the solitude of your room. But before you could act on your uncertainty, Mama's voice pierced through your contemplations, pulling you back to reality.

"Where are you going?" her voice echoed in your ears, disrupting your thoughts.

"I just feel like taking a walk around town," you offered an excuse that was half-spontaneous, half-true.

"Alright," Mama replied, a hint of caution in her voice. "Make sure you're back before dark." Her concern lingered like a gentle reminder, urging you to tread carefully in this world of uncertainty.

⛓🥀⛓ The sound of leaves crinkling beneath your feet was the only audible presence in your world as your thoughts traversed distant realms. His eyes, his nose, his lips—every detail etched into your memory. You marvelled at the lingering impact he had on your mind. 

As you strolled alone through town, a mix of emotions swirled within you. You couldn't decide if it was the novelty of going to town unaccompanied or the persistent thought of him that left you stunned. His effortless elegance, combined with a dishevelled allure that defied reason, played on a loop in your mind. 

How did he manage to embody such an enigmatic blend of grace and rugged charm? The question lingered like an unsolved riddle, one that you couldn't help but ponder with each step you took through the quiet streets of the town.

What had once been a tranquil dirt road had transformed into cobblestone streets bustling with activity. Even though yesterday had been no different, the sight never ceased to amaze you. In this small village, it seemed almost impossible not to recognize every single person passing by. Yet, there was one face, one presence you desperately yearned to encounter again. 

You couldn't bring yourself to admit it, but you scanned the crowded streets, lifting your head a little higher as if it might make a difference. Deep down, you knew it was a futile endeavour. No one ventured to town twice in such quick succession, and the odds of crossing paths with him again were slim. Nevertheless, a glimmer of hope persisted within you, an ember of desire to see him once more.

Having resigned yourself to the futility of your search, hope drained from your body like water from a sieve. A heavy, defeated sigh escaped your lips, and your shoulders slumped in disappointment.

With every intention of turning around and retracing your steps homeward, you paused for a fleeting moment. It was as if the universe had conspired to hold you in place, a strange sensation that left you momentarily rooted to the spot.

And then, with sudden and unexpected intensity, a large, firm hand snaked around your waist. Its grasp was assertive yet strangely gentle, pulling you back against a solid surface that radiated warmth and strength. The abruptness of the encounter sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself held in a mysterious and electrifying moment, suspended between the anticipation of the unknown and the familiarity of desire.

Your breath hitched, and a chill coursed through your body, freezing you in place.

"Were you that desperate to see me again?" he murmured, his voice deep and tender, sending shivers down your spine. "Glad to see you too, little Dove."

In that moment, your heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. He was here.

His voice drew nearer to your ear, and he inched closer. "That's why you're here, isn't it?" he whispered, his warm breath caressing your skin.

You couldn't help but shy away from his proximity, although it felt practically impossible. His chest pressed against your back, and a low chuckle rumbled within him, sending vibrations coursing through you.

"Care to walk with me?" His voice, as soothing as a gentle breeze, whispered in your ear.

"I mustn't," you initially declined, your apprehension tugging at your better judgement.

"Come on, little Dove," he coaxed, his firm yet gentle grip pulling you closer to his broad, enigmatic figure. The heat rose in your cheeks as you felt the closeness of his presence.

Hesitatingly, you found yourself nodding your head in reluctant agreement. It was a departure from your usual assertiveness, a testament to the irresistible allure he held over you in that fleeting moment.

What is happening to me!?

A playful smile graced his features as he gently took your hand in his, coaxing you along with him. Alfie's touch was magnetic, and you found yourself willingly following his lead.

Alfie led you through the bustling streets, navigating the crowded thoroughfares with ease, until you reached a dirt road that led into the looming forest. A sharp intake of breath escaped your lips, and you instinctively pulled your hand from his grasp.

I can’t go in there.

Alfie turned back to face you, his brow creased in confusion, searching your eyes for answers to the unspoken questions that hung in the air between you.

"What's wrong, little Dove?" he inquired, extending his hand toward you, only to have you stumble back, your fear palpable.

"I-I can't go in there," you managed to whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

A ravishing smile graced his lips, a seductive playfulness dancing in his eyes.

"Is my poor darling scared?" he asked, his tone adopting a gentleness one might use when comforting a child.

Before you could respond, he pulled you close, wrapping his arm around your waist, and his voice dropped to a tantalising murmur as he assured you, "Don't worry. You'll be right by my side the whole time." His warm breath caressed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself irresistibly drawn into his enigmatic world.

"Y-you don't understand," you stammered, your voice quivering with unease. "Mama told me I'm not—"

"Well, Mama’s not fucking here right now, is she?" he interjected, his tone taking on an edge that felt more menacing compared to his usual joviality. "You have me, and that's enough, isn't it? Is it not?"

His abrupt shift in demeanour sent shivers down your spine, and you began to tremble under the weight of his intense gaze. The sense of foreboding that hung in the air was suffocating, and you couldn't help but fear the implications of his newfound seriousness.

"Hey, what's wrong, Little Dove?" he inquired, his voice gentler now, as he tenderly cupped your face in his hands. The sudden contact made you flinch, and you instinctively tried to step back. But he held you firmly in place, his touch both comforting and unsettling.

You closed your eyes tightly, a protective reflex kicking in. His soothing words broke through the tension. "I won't hurt you, remember that."

Slowly, you began to open your eyes once again, only to be met with his hurt expression. The realisation that your actions had inadvertently caused him pain washed over you like a wave, and you felt a pang of remorse. You hadn't meant to hurt him.

"Do you not trust me?" he asked, his tone tinged with gravity and concern.

You reached for his hands and held them firmly, your fingers intertwined with his. A rapid shake of your head followed. "No, no, I do trust you!" you reassured him with urgency, your voice filled with sincerity and desperation.

A warm smile gradually graced his features once more, and the tension in the air seemed to dissipate.

"Perfect," he affirmed, the word carrying a sense of reassurance and finality, as if sealing an unspoken pact between the two of you.

Alfie tugged at your left hand, guiding you deeper into the heart of the forest. You clung onto his arm, your grip tight, your senses alert to the mysteries lurking behind each tree. His smirk hinted at a shared understanding of your vulnerability, and you found yourself relying on him for both guidance and protection.

As you ventured further into the dense woodland, you felt the enormity of the forest closing in around you. Each step drew you deeper into its mysterious embrace, and the world outside began to blur into obscurity. In this surreal wilderness, your proximity to Alfie was strikingly intimate. He held you so close that his touch on your left thigh became a grounding force, a reassuring reminder that you were not alone in the vastness of the unknown. His firm grip served as a constant, physical connection, anchoring you to the present moment as you navigated deeper into the enigmatic heart of the forest.

The air in the forest was heavy with mist, its density obscuring the path you had been following. Before you could react, it seemed to vanish into a carpet of fallen leaves and small twigs.

Raising your gaze toward the intricate tapestry of tree branches overhead, you marvelled at their intricate dance as they reached out to one another and intertwined. Each step Alfie led you deeper into the forest was like a journey from darkness to light. The once-shadowed path had transformed into a radiant garden, adorned with a kaleidoscope of plants in every imaginable shape and colour, creating an enchanting oasis within the heart of the woods.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as you knelt down, gently grazing your hand against the delicate petals. The sensation of their softness against your skin sent a shiver of delight through you. You withdrew your hand, fingers tingling, and rejoined Alfie as you continued to explore the enchanting garden.

He leaned in, his lips brushing tantalisingly close to your ear, sending a thrill down your spine. "I knew you would like them," he murmured, his voice a gentle, soothing hum. "They're all for you." His words hung in the air, a sweet promise that seemed to bloom amid the garden's vibrant beauty.

Why does that sound so familiar?

You pressed your body closer to him, a hidden smile gracing your lips as you sought refuge in his comforting embrace.

"Come on, show me that beautiful fucking smile of yours," he teased, his fingers gently lifting your chin to face him.

You attempted to pull back, but his hold on you remained steadfast. The corner of his lips curved upward into a warm, open-mouthed smile, and he let out a compassionate laugh that washed over you like a gentle wave.

Though you had known Alfie for only two days, the tender affection he showered upon you felt undeniably real. In his presence, every moment felt fresh and vibrant, as if the world had been painted anew. Not for a single second did you wish for him to leave, your heart yearning to savour every precious moment with him.

"See, now if you hadn't come with me," he said brightly, his voice filled with enthusiasm, "you wouldn't have gotten to see all this. And I wouldn't want my little Dove to miss out on all the fun."

His words danced like sunlight through the leaves, infusing the moment with a sense of adventure and joy. You couldn't help but be grateful for the opportunity to explore this enchanting world with him by your side, realising that it had brought you closer to something magical and extraordinary.

You and Alfie continued your journey through the garden, passing by the vibrant flowers and circling around a mighty, ancient tree. As you ventured further, a two-story house came into view, slightly larger than your own. With a sense of wonder, you gently released yourself from Alfie's arm and approached the beautiful house.

The exterior was a tapestry of nature, with flowers and ivy adorning nearly every inch of its walls. The door, a rich dark brown, boasted an elegant golden handle—a luxury not often seen by those who weren't of royal descent.

From behind, you felt Alfie's gradual approach, his hand settling warmly high up on your back. The touch was both reassuring and filled with an unspoken promise of the adventures yet to unfold within the walls of this enchanting place.

"Let's head inside," he whispered softly, his warm breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"This is yours?" you asked, your voice filled with shock and amazement.

With a gentle push, Alfie urged you toward the house, his hand a reassuring presence on your back, guiding you forward. You stepped through the open door, allowing you to enter first. As you crossed the threshold, you were immediately enveloped in a welcoming warmth that wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. The interior of the house was even more breathtaking than the exterior, with a cosy, inviting atmosphere that made you feel instantly at home. The flickering light of a fireplace cast a warm glow over a long couch adorned with plush cushions and a beautiful red and gold rug, creating an inviting space that beckoned you to sit and relax. Shelves lined with various items, from books to potted plants, showcased a charming collection that spoke of a well-lived life. A quaint kitchenette, nestled near a staircase that led to the second floor, completed the cosy setting, and you took in the inviting atmosphere that surrounded you.

Alfie followed closely behind you, his eyes never leaving your form as you took in the surroundings. His gaze was intense, filled with a mixture of pride and anticipation. He watched with a faint, satisfied smile as you marvelled at the interior of the house he had brought you to.

The inviting atmosphere seemed to wrap around both of you, creating a sense of intimacy and connection. The flickering firelight painted playful shadows on the walls, casting a warm and inviting ambiance throughout the room. The long couch, adorned with plush cushions, practically begged for you to sink into its comfortable embrace, and the beautiful red and gold rug added a touch of elegance to the space.

Your attention was drawn to the shelves that lined the walls, displaying an eclectic collection of items. Books of all genres stood shoulder to shoulder with potted plants, each item contributing to the overall charm of the room. The quaint kitchenette, complete with its own unique character, nestled near the staircase that led to the second floor, completed the cosy setting.

Alfie's presence beside you felt both reassuring and electrifying, like a promise of something new and exciting on the horizon. The house seemed to echo with the unspoken possibilities of what this moment could mean for both of you, and you couldn't help but wonder where this unexpected journey with him would lead.

"This place is beautiful, Alfie," you said, your voice filled with genuine appreciation as you continued to take in the enchanting surroundings.

Alfie gave you a pleased smile in response to your compliment before guiding you to the next room. As you both approached the wooden staircase that led to the second floor, your gaze was drawn to a compact kitchenette nestled nearby. Its well-organised design fit seamlessly into the room, with charming touches that added to the overall cosiness of the house.

The kitchenette featured polished wooden countertops, adorned with small potted herbs that added a delightful burst of greenery. A quaint sink sat beneath a window that allowed natural light to flood the space, making it feel even more inviting. The shelves were stocked with a variety of dishes and cookware, while a vintage stove stood as the centrepiece, ready to whip up delicious meals.

Alfie stood by your side, watching your reactions with a sense of pride. The house was not only beautiful but also meticulously designed to create an atmosphere of comfort and tranquillity. Every corner seemed to reflect the care and thought that had been put into making it a warm and welcoming place. "Tea?" Alfie asked, his voice carrying a note of warmth and hospitality.

You nodded, the idea of a soothing cup of tea in this enchanting setting sounding like the perfect way to continue your visit. You took a seat at the dining table, which was situated near the kitchenette and surrounded by charming wooden chairs. The table itself was adorned with a delicate lace tablecloth, adding a touch of elegance to the rustic charm of the room.

As you settled into your seat, you watched with curiosity and appreciation as Alfie moved gracefully about the kitchenette. He reached for a teapot, its design matching the overall aesthetic of the house, and carefully filled it with water. The aromatic tea leaves were lovingly measured and added to the pot, creating a fragrant blend that hinted at the promise of a delightful tea time.

The sound of water boiling and the gentle clinking of teacups filled the air as Alfie prepared the tea with practised ease. The cosy atmosphere of the house seemed to enhance the simple pleasure of sharing a cup of tea with someone who had quickly become an intriguing and enigmatic presence in your life.

As he carried the steaming teapot and two cups to the dining table, you couldn't help but feel a sense of connection and curiosity growing between you and Alfie. It was as if the house itself had brought you together, and you were eager to continue exploring both the enchanting surroundings and the enigmatic man who had guided you here.

"Thank you," you said appreciatively, taking one of the cups that Alfie had prepared and bringing it to your lips. The first sip of the fragrant tea was a soothing embrace to your senses, its warmth spreading through your body and providing a moment of calm in the midst of the day's unexpected events.

As you savoured the tea's delicate flavour, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort settle over you. It was as if the house, with its cosy atmosphere and Alfie's gracious hospitality, had become a sanctuary of sorts. The worries and uncertainties that had been plaguing your mind since you first encountered Alfie began to recede, replaced by a newfound sense of tranquillity.

Alfie watched you closely, his gaze unwavering but not intrusive. There was a certain intensity in his eyes, as if he were studying your every reaction and response. It was a reminder that there was still much about him that remained a mystery, a puzzle waiting to be unravelled.

Despite the enigma that surrounded Alfie, you couldn't deny the undeniable connection that seemed to be forming between the two of you. The events of the day had taken an unexpected turn, and you found yourself drawn deeper into a world that was as mysterious as it was alluring.

As you continued to share tea and conversation in the charming dining area, you couldn't help but wonder where this unexpected journey would lead you next and what secrets the enigmatic Alfie held within the walls of his captivating home.

"Such a cute fucking thing, you are," Alfie remarked, a hint of affection in his voice as he regarded you with a fond smile. The endearment sent a warm flutter through your chest, and you couldn't help but return his smile with a shy one of your own.

A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks, and you couldn't deny the blush that had painted your face a shade of crimson. Alfie's words and the intensity of his gaze had an undeniable effect on you, causing your heart to race and your emotions to swirl in a captivating whirlwind.

Your gaze momentarily dropped, unable to maintain eye contact with Alfie's penetrating stare. It was as if his words had unveiled a vulnerability within you, one that you hadn't been fully aware of until now. In his presence, you felt exposed, yet strangely drawn to the enigmatic charm that surrounded him.

As the blush deepened, you found yourself at a loss for words, the unspoken tension between you and Alfie growing stronger with each passing moment. It was a moment of both vulnerability and connection, as if the very air around you crackled with an unspoken promise of what could be.

The words and gestures exchanged between you and Alfie had created a unique bond, one that was both intriguing and captivating. His charm was undeniable, and the allure of his enigmatic presence had drawn you in deeper than you ever expected.

You leaned back slightly in your chair, a thoughtful expression crossing your face as you considered Alfie's question. It was a simple enough request, yet you found yourself hesitating, unsure of where to begin.

"Well," you began slowly, "I've lived in the village for as long as I can remember. My mama owns a home on the outskirts with a little garden and chickens." You paused, a wistful smile touching your lips as you recalled fond memories of your childhood.

"I would enjoy spending time in nature," you continued, your eyes meeting Alfie's. "There's something serene about the forest and the fields that has always drawn me in. But of course I’m not allowed in it. This is the first time I’ve ever stepped foot in the forest and it’s beautiful. I wished my parents weren’t so paranoid."

Alfie listened attentively, his eyes never leaving yours as he absorbed your words. His genuine interest in getting to know you better was evident, and it made you feel a connection that went beyond mere attraction.

As you spoke about your hobbies, your family, and your dreams, you couldn't help but notice how Alfie's presence seemed to put you at ease. The initial fear and uncertainty that had gripped you earlier had given way to a growing sense of comfort in his company. You were beginning to realise that there was much more to Alfie than met the eye, and you were eager to discover the layers beneath his enigmatic exterior as well.

"So...the forest is safe then?" you asked, a hint of curiosity in your voice. After all, Alfie lived alone in the forest, and you couldn't help but wonder if the recent disturbance meant any potential danger for the place you had grown to enjoy exploring with him.

"As long as you're with me, you're safe," Alfie answered with a reassuring smile.

Your curiosity got the best of you, and you prodded further. "What's out there in the forest, Alfie?"

Alfie's gaze turned thoughtful as he considered your question. “Just fucking wild dogs. Real aggressive buggers, yeah. Why I keep a shotgun at the door, always fucking come around here.”

You couldn't help but shiver at the thought of those aggressive wild dogs roaming the nearby forest.

"But no monsters out there, Dove," Alfie reassured you, his tone lightening the mood. "None that would hurt you, at least." He punctuated his words with a playful wink, causing a small, relieved smile to tug at your lips.

Yet, beneath the surface of this newfound connection, there lingered an unspoken tension—a sense that there was more to Alfie and the world he inhabited than met the eye. It was a mystery you couldn't ignore, even as you basked in the warmth of his hospitality.

⛓🥀⛓ After that day, neither you nor Alfie could get enough of each other. It became a routine for both of you to meet up every day. Alfie would take you on leisurely walks, whether through the charming town or the mysterious depths of the forest. Each day was a new adventure, filled with laughter, shared secrets, and stolen kisses.

You had gone from initially fearing the forest to eagerly wanting to explore it further with Alfie by your side. As time passed, you found yourself falling in love with him, and each day spent together only strengthened your bond. The forest, once a place of dread, became a backdrop for your shared adventures, and you cherished every moment spent with Alfie.

Your mother, observant as always, couldn't help but notice the profound change in your daily routine. While she may not have known the specifics of your newfound friendship or the identity of the person who had captured your heart, the fact that you left the house every day, returning only when the sun dipped below the horizon, didn't escape her notice. She watched as a radiance lit up your face, and her motherly instincts told her that something special had taken root in your life, something that seemed to bring you immense happiness and fulfilment. It was a change she welcomed, even if it remained shrouded in a bit of mystery.

On this particular day, as you left the house to spend time with Alfie, your heart danced with anticipation. It had become a familiar routine – Alfie guiding you to his house, a place that now felt like a second home. Each visit held the promise of adventure, the allure of the unknown, and the comfort of his presence. As you made your way through the streets, you couldn't help but smile, knowing that you were about to embark on another unforgettable journey with the enigmatic man who had turned your world upside down.

Alfie, as always, was waiting for you at your designated meeting spot, leaning casually against a lamppost. His eyes, as they locked onto yours, sparkled with a mixture of mischief and warmth.

"You came back to me, my little Dove?" he purred, his tease sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

You nodded eagerly, the air vibrating with a sense of anticipation. “You just make my day much more exciting, how could I stay away?”

With a graceful wave of his hand, Alfie beckoned you to follow, and you fell into step beside him. As you walked through the village streets, the two of you exchanged stories and laughter, your connection deepening with every shared moment.

Alfie's house came into view, and you couldn't help but marvel at how comfortable you'd grown in this once-forbidding place. Inside, the air was imbued with a blend of mysterious scents, a reflection of Alfie's captivating personality. It was a world of hidden corners and secrets, a world you were more than willing to explore.

As the hours passed, you found yourself drawn further into the web of Alfie's charm and charisma. He regaled you with tales of his own past, leaving you hanging on his every word. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows that danced across the room, and the atmosphere between you grew increasingly charged.

“You’re such a pretty fucking little thing, you know that, Dove?” Alfie murmured, his gaze lingering on you.

Alfie, his voice hushed and hypnotic, shared an old folk tale he'd heard from a distant land, his words wrapping around you like a spell.

His words hung in the air like a forbidden melody, and you felt your heart race as you swallowed hard. Alfie's intense gaze bore into you, and a flush of warmth crept up your cheeks.

"I..." Words seemed to escape you, lost in the whirlwind of emotions that his compliment had stirred. You'd never felt quite like this before, a heady mix of desire and vulnerability. His proximity, the charged atmosphere, it all left you breathless.

Alfie's fingers, calloused from a life of intrigue and danger, gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was electric, sending sparks of sensation through your skin. With infinite tenderness, he cupped your chin, tilting your head upward until your eyes locked onto his.

"Dove," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "I've been waitin' for this moment."

Time seemed to stand still as Alfie leaned in, his lips a breath away from yours. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, a tantalising promise of what was about to happen. It was a moment of perfect anticipation, the world fading into insignificance as your lips drew closer together, the magnetic pull between you impossible to resist.

You found yourself leaning closer, caught in the captivating cadence of his storytelling. In that moment, as the world outside faded away, it seemed as if time itself had paused, and you were suspended in the enchantment of the narrative. His eyes locked onto yours, and a pause lingered in the air, filled with unspoken words. You could feel the weight of the moment, a subtle tension that neither of you dared to break.

The moment stretched, time standing still as you gazed into each other's eyes. It was a dance of longing, desire, and the unspoken, a dance that had been building since the day you first met Alfie Solomons. And as you leaned closer, the world outside faded away, leaving only the promise of that moment and the anticipation of what was to come.

In that charged moment, Alfie's lips finally met yours. It was a gentle yet fervent kiss, a merging of two souls drawn together by an undeniable magnetism. His lips were soft against yours, coaxing and inviting, as if they had been designed solely to fit yours.

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you responded to his kiss, your fingers trembling slightly as they reached up to tangle in his hair. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of Alfie's mouth on yours, a taste of desire and longing that left you breathless.

Alfie deepened the kiss, his passion igniting a fire within you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, until there was not an inch of space between you. It was a kiss filled with promise, a silent declaration of the unspoken desires that had simmered between you since the moment you had first met.

With a soft, lingering sigh, you both slowly pulled away from each other, the warmth of the moment still radiating between you.

Alfie's eyes bore into yours, intense and filled with a mixture of emotions. His thumb gently brushed across your cheek, as if he couldn't resist the urge to touch you even for a moment longer. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips, revealing the depth of his feelings.

You, too, found yourself smiling, a blush rising to your cheeks as you looked down for a brief moment. The air between you was charged with unspoken words, with the knowledge that this was a turning point in your relationship.

A timid, hopeful smile played at the corners of your lips as you asked, "you...like me?"

Alfie burst into hearty laughter at your question, the sound filling the room and echoing with amusement. 

"Yeah, I fucking like you, Dove," Alfie replied with a warm smile, his eyes filled with a fondness that made your heart flutter.

As you gazed into Alfie's eyes, a mixture of emotions swirled within you. The connection between you two felt stronger than ever, yet there was an undeniable tension in the air. You couldn't help but feel the weight of the unspoken desires that hung between you like a delicate thread, waiting to be acknowledged.

Alfie's thumb gently brushed against your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes, filled with an intensity that left you breathless, slowly descended to your lips. Time seemed to stand still as he leaned in, his warm breath mingling with yours.

"I got you something," Alfie said with a hint of excitement in his voice.

Your curiosity piqued, you raised an eyebrow. His smile widened as he gracefully rose from his chair, moving to the side of the room. With deliberate care, he retrieved a bundle of rich, dark red cloth and extended it toward you. You accepted the bundle, your fingers tingling with anticipation as you gently unfolded it. Before you lay a breathtaking dark red dress, its fabric shimmering in the dim light, and you couldn't help but gasp at its sheer beauty.

"Alfie, I can't possibly accept this," you said humbly, your eyes fixed on the exquisite dress before you. The fabric alone bespoke a level of luxury you had never encountered before, and it made your heart race with both gratitude and unease.

The dress was far from cheap, that much was clear, and you struggled with the idea of accepting such an opulent gift. "Alfie, this is too much," you insisted, torn between admiration for the dress and the sense of propriety that told you it was beyond your means.

But Alfie's gaze held unwavering determination as he replied, "No, that's yours." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, and his eyes seemed to convey a deeper sentiment you couldn't quite decipher.

You offered a warm smile, genuinely grateful for his gesture, and expressed your gratitude with a heartfelt, "Thank you, Alfie."

As you rose from your seat and approached him, his smirk widened, and his eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. There was an undeniable tension in the air, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to him, leaving both of you acutely aware of the charged atmosphere between you.

Just as your lips were about to meet once more, a distant noise from the bustling village outside broke the spell. The moment was interrupted, and you both pulled away, a sense of longing and frustration in your eyes.

Alfie let out a sigh, his forehead resting against yours. "It seems some wild fucking dog has other plans for us, Dove," he said, a little irritated.

You nodded, your heart heavy with both desire and the harsh reality of the world outside. The two of you shared one last lingering look before reluctantly parting, knowing that this stolen moment was just the beginning of a deeper, more complicated connection between you.

With a swift stride, Alfie grabbed the shotgun waiting by his front door, his determined steps echoing his resolve as he left the house to confront the issue. You couldn't help but shake your head in amusement and let out a soft chuckle.

⛓🥀⛓ Over the past month, you had spent more and more time with Alfie, and you couldn't deny the growing closeness between you. There was a palpable connection, an unspoken understanding that seemed to deepen with each passing day. However, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in the atmosphere whenever you found yourselves in close proximity, as if the air itself crackled with unspoken desires and emotions.

Whenever Alfie playfully teased you, your cheeks would flush with warmth, and you found it increasingly difficult to hide the undeniable attraction that was blossoming between you two. The tension between you felt electric, like a charged wire ready to ignite at any moment. It was a dance of desire that neither of you could completely ignore.

You were engaged in conversation, seated together on his lounge chair. The sun bathed you both in its warm, golden light, casting long shadows that danced across the room.

The gentle breeze rustled the leaves outside, and the distant sounds of the village carried through the air. You found yourself captivated by Alfie's words, the way he spoke with a mixture of confidence and vulnerability. 

As the conversation continued, Alfie's eyes locked onto yours, and you couldn't help but feel a magnetic pull between you. His words grew softer, more intimate, and his fingers brushed against yours. The tension in the air became palpable, and it seemed as though neither of you could resist the inevitable any longer.

Alfie's fingers trailed up and down the sides of your arms, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Warm puffs of his breath teased the nape of your neck, making your skin tingle in response.

"You are so beautiful, my little Dove," he murmured, his lips pressing gently below your ear.

With a swift, almost possessive motion, he spun you around to face him. His eyes, brimming with intense desire, bore into your soul, making your heart race. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, forcing you to tilt your head back slightly. Soft, lingering kisses traced the base of your neck, slowly ascending along your jawline. Your eyelids fluttered closed as his kisses grew more demanding, your mouth falling open slightly as you released an unsteady breath.

"Just remember, you are only mine and always mine," As Alfie whispered those possessive words, they echoed through your mind, weaving a spell that bound you to him completely. Each word carried a weight of dominance, his declaration demanding your unwavering obedience.

With a nod, you acknowledged your place as his, a mix of desire and devotion swirling within you. A gentle smile graced his lips, and he guided you towards the plush furs and blankets spread invitingly in front of the dancing flames of the fireplace, an intimate sanctuary where deeper passions and pleasures awaited.

Sinking onto his lap, you found yourself straddling him, your bodies perfectly aligned in a passionate embrace. Alfie's strong hands claimed your hips, his touch grounding you and igniting a primal connection. As you leaned in, your fingertips trailed gently along his face, tracing the contours with adoration, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your delicate touch. The warmth of the fire bathed you both in an intimate glow, casting flickering shadows that danced upon your entwined forms, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull between you, you leaned forward, capturing Alfie's lips in a fervent and passionate kiss. The world around you faded into a blur as the fervour of your connection intensified. Your bodies pressed together, fueling the fire of desire that blazed within you both. Time seemed to stand still as the heat of the moment enveloped you, an intoxicating blend of desire, need, and surrender.

Lost in the depths of your intense kiss, you felt Alfie's hands skillfully navigate the intricate strings of your dress, pulling them gently but deliberately. The tension released as the fabric of your dress gave way, caressing your skin as it slid down your body, revealing the curves and contours that had captured his desire. The cool air heightened your senses, contrasting with the scorching heat that enveloped you both, as the anticipation of what lay ahead hung in the air like an electrifying promise.

As Alfie's hands glided along the sides of your body, a delicious shiver coursed through you, making your skin come alive under his touch. The contrast of his rough hands against the softness of your skin heightened the sensation, igniting a hunger for more. His touch, both possessive yet tender, explored every curve and contour, unravelling the layers of desire that bound you together, until you were both consumed by an electric connection that could not be denied.

You reciprocated his actions by pushing off his vest, the fabric gliding smoothly over his shoulders and pooling on the floor. Your hands trembled with anticipation as you deftly undid the buttons of his shirt, revealing the sculpted contours of his chest. Each button released heightened your desire, revealing more of the tantalising sight that lay beneath. The shared act of undressing became a sensual dance, fueling the flames of anticipation and escalating the intensity of the moment.

Feeling an overwhelming desire to explore every inch of Alfie's impressive physique, you compelled your hands to ascend his chest, tracing the contours and definition of each sculpted muscle. The strength and power beneath your fingertips stirred a primal longing within you, as you marvelled at the testament of masculinity before you. With every touch, you revelled in the intoxicating mix of vulnerability and strength that radiated from him, forging an unbreakable bond between your souls.

With a slow and deliberate movement, Alfie pressed you gently onto the inviting surface of the floor beneath you, a luxurious furs that cradled your bodies. Hovering over you, his eyes burning with desire, he claimed your lips once more in a ravenous kiss that sent sparks cascading through your veins. As his lips explored yours and his hands caressed your skin, he maintained an intoxicating rhythm of undressing, shedding his pants in a tantalising display of intimacy that left you yearning for even closer connection. The world around you faded away as you surrendered completely to the fiery passions that spiralled between you, lost in the ethereal cocoon of pleasure and desire. 

"Will you make love to me, Alfie?" you asked, your voice filled with hope and longing.

Alfie smiled and kissed you, his voice low and filled with desire, "You fucking know it."

With a gleam in his eyes, Alfie drew you closer, his touch sending shivers down your spine, before he whispered, "I'll show you just how much I fucking want you."

Alfie's nimble fingers danced across your skin, igniting trails of electric sensation that made your every nerve tingle with overwhelming pleasure. As his lips continued their fervent exploration, leaving a trail of fiery kisses on your neck, the air was thick with the intoxicating scent of desire and anticipation. Without a moment's hesitation, Alfie skillfully removed both his underwear and yours, the two of you standing there, vulnerable and exposed, consumed by an insatiable hunger for each other.

As Alfie's lips ventured further south, a wicked combination of anticipation and need coursed through your veins, rendering your body a pulsing canvas of desire. With each gentle, tantalising kiss, he moved closer to your most sensitive spot, his hot breath a delicious torment that made your hips instinctively arch towards him, desperately seeking the contact your body craved. The world ceased to exist in that moment, leaving only the electrifying connection between you and Alfie, as you surrendered completely to the intoxicating rhythm of pleasure.

Alfie's kisses trailed along the soft expanse of your thighs, his beard creating an exquisite friction against your skin that added an unexpected element of sensation. The anticipation in the air grew thicker as his hands gently but firmly pushed your legs apart, affording him unrestricted access to your most intimate parts. Your breath hitched in a mixture of anticipation and excitement, your body humming with a hunger that only he could satisfy. As he drew closer to your nether regions, a wave of yearning washed over you, making every nerve ending hyperaware and eager for his touch.

“You ready, sweetie?” Alfie asked, looking up at you. With a nod of consent, every fibre of your being alive with an intoxicating mix of anticipation and desire, Alfie wasted no time in indulging in the delicious feast that lay before him. As his skilled lips enclosed around your sensitive clit, a breathtaking surge of ecstasy rippled through you, leaving you gasping and trembling with pleasure. Every flick of his tongue and every gentle suck ignited a wildfire within, consuming your senses and heightening every sensation to a point of exquisite bliss.

As Alfie continued to work his magic with fervent dedication, his tongue expertly tracing patterns of pleasure over your throbbing, sensitive bud, your body began to dance to a symphony of pleasure. Waves of sensation crashed through you, each one more intense than the last, unravelling the very fabric of your self-control. Your fingers clawed at the fur, seeking anchor in the sea of bliss that threatened to engulf you completely. Every breath you took was a symphony of moans and gasps, an unspoken language of desire and surrender that reverberated through the room. Alfie, keenly attuned to your every reaction, accelerated his ministrations, pushing you towards the precipice of pleasure. And at the apex, as the world stood still, time suspended, you succumbed to the overwhelming ecstasy that washed over you, your body convulsing with a release that echoed with the raw intensity of passion.

A surge of newfound boldness coursed through your veins as you shakily gathered the strength to yank Alfie's head up from his expert ministrations. His lips and beard glistened with the evidence of your need, a tantalising sight that fueled your hunger for more. With a breathless command, a raspy plea that dripped with need, you revealed your deepest desire to him.

"I want to finish on your cock," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire, as you locked eyes with him, a silent invitation to fulfil the craving that pulsed between you.

Alfie's sharp intake of breath, a symphony of desire, resonated through the room, kindling the fire that burned between you. Climbing back on top of you, he devotedly claimed your lips, his own still moist with the essence of your shared pleasure. The taste of intimacy lingered in the kiss, an intoxicating reminder of the depths you had explored together. As his tongue danced with yours, the world faded away, leaving only the two of you lost in a whirlwind of passion.

“Anything for my little Dove.”

Alfie, his eyes smouldering with a mix of tenderness and sheer desire, tenderly stroked himself, relishing the sight of his throbbing length gliding along your slickness. As you tighten your grip on his broad shoulders, anticipation crackles in the air, mingling with the intoxicating scent of arousal. With deliberate slowness, he pressed himself inside you, inch by glorious inch, eliciting a shuddering gasp as the exquisite fullness consumed your senses. The raw pleasure of being filled by him, the connection that surged through your intertwined bodies, was unlike anything you had experienced before. Desperation tinged Alfie's kiss, a plea for reciprocity and mutual surrender, as he began to move, a rhythm that danced between ecstasy and longing, igniting a scorching symphony of pleasure between the two of you.

“Fucking hell, Dove.” Alfie said, breathlessly.

With every deliberate thrust, Alfie stirred a tempest of pleasure within you, causing your breath to tremble and your body to respond in kind. As the initial intensity subsided, you melted into the exquisite union, drowning in waves of pleasure that consumed your very being. In a sublime symphony, your moans transformed into whimpered pleas, a symphony only Alfie could conduct. Sensing your growing comfort, Alfie shifted his attention to the sensitive side of your neck, trailing hot, passionate kisses that sent electrifying shivers down your spine, intensifying the symphony of pleasure that enveloped you both.

As the intensity of the moment cascaded over you like a tidal wave, your eyes closed, surrendering completely to the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through every fibre of your being. Sensing Alfie's own struggle to maintain control, you watched as his restraint crumbled, giving way to an unrelenting desire that fueled his increasingly frenzied thrusts. The pace quickened, a rhythm that matched the wild tempo of your racing hearts, while his lips continued their assault on the sensitive expanse of your neck, igniting a symphony of moans that harmonised with the symphony of pleasure that washed over you. With every gasping breath and the crescendo of your moans, the intensity escalated, pushing you both to the precipice of ecstasy.

“I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard, you hear me Dove?” As Alfie's voice, a potent mix of devotion and aggressive desire, seared into your senses, you felt a surge of primal energy surge through you.

His embrace, a possessive grip that anchored you to the moment, tightened around your body, keeping you locked in a passionate embrace. With each powerful thrust, he relentlessly drove you closer to the edge of ecstasy, your climax rising within you like a crescendo in a symphony of pleasure. The anticipation hung in the air, a taut wire stretched to its limit, ready to snap and release an explosion of rapture. A sheen of sticky sweat glistened on your entwined bodies, merging the heat and intensity of your connection.

“You’re close, aren’t you Dove? Yeah? I can feel you fucking throbbing around me.” Alfie's words, a sultry rasp in your ear, ignited an inferno of desire within you, the intensity of his presence amplifying every pulsating throb of pleasure that rippled through your core.

As the relentless rhythm of his twitching cock sent spasms of ecstasy coursing through you, your world shattered into an explosion of pleasure that consumed you wholly, surrendering all control to the intoxicating climax that washed over you like a tidal wave.

As the electric waves of your orgasm crashed over you, the sensation of your convulsing walls enveloping him sent Alfie hurtling into his own release. With a raw, guttural groan, he unleashed his hot seed deep within you, each pulse of his ecstasy an intimate testament to the depth of your connection. Time stood still in that moment, as you both surrendered to the overwhelming bliss that wrapped around you, their bodies entwined in the aftermath of a sinfully euphoric union.

As the final echoes of pleasure subsided, Alfie pressed his lips against yours in a tender, loving kiss, a gesture that embodied the lingering connection between you. With a contented sigh, he gently melted onto the plush fur blanket beside you, his embrace drawing you closer, cocooning you in a comforting warmth. Holding you tightly, his lips brushed against the top of your head, leaving a feather-light imprint of affection. In the tranquillity of the room, the only audible sounds were the synchrony of your catching breaths and the soft crackling of the fire, a backdrop to the blissful aftermath of your shared pleasure.

"That was incredible, Alfie. Seriously, wow," you said, letting out a joyous laugh and snuggling into his side.

He kissed your forehead, his voice soft and filled with admiration, "Yeah, it was. You were amazing, Dove."

You chuckled, feeling content in his arms. "I barely did anything."

He grinned and squeezed you closer. "And yet, you were fucking amazing."

Despite the sticky sweat clinging to both of you, you felt an overwhelming sense of contentment in his arms. It was as if the world outside didn't matter, and you had no desire to leave this warm, intimate embrace.

Alfie's warm breath tickled your ear as he whispered softly, "Just sleep, Dove."

You sighed, feeling both comforted and conflicted. "I can't stay the night, you know that, Alfie," you replied, your voice heavy with weariness.

His arms tightened around you slightly, pulling you closer. "I know, Dove. Just rest for now," he admitted, his voice tinged with longing.

The two of you lay there in silence for a while, the only sounds the soft rhythm of your breathing and the occasional rustle of leaves outside. The bond between you and Alfie had deepened over time, but there were still boundaries that couldn't be crossed, and you both understood that all too well.

⛓🥀⛓ As you stepped into the house, the scent of your mother's cooking enveloped you, and you found her in the kitchen, deftly chopping up a chicken. Her words drifted towards you, carrying curiosity and warmth.

"You've been going out a lot lately, dear. Have you met someone?" your mama inquired, her voice filled with maternal concern.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing to find the right words. "Uh, yeah. A friend," you finally replied, trying to sound casual.

A playful glint appeared in her eyes as she continued to work with the chicken. "Just a friend?" she teased, her tone teasingly insistent.

Your cheeks reddened slightly, and you cursed yourself for stuttering. "Y-yeah," you managed to say.

A thoughtful expression crossed your mother's face as she paused in her cooking. "Will I ever get to meet him?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

You paused for a moment, weighing the idea in your mind. Alfie was undeniably much older and more intimidating than you had initially let on. The prospect of introducing him to your mom felt daunting, and you weren't sure if you were ready to take that step.

"I don't know," you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

⛓🥀⛓ "Why don't we play a little game, yeah?" Alfie suggested with a sly grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Alfie and you were sitting side by side on his bed, your legs stretched out comfortably across his own. The deep crimson dress clung to your every curve, the fabric soft against your skin. You couldn't help but smile as you remembered the day Alfie had given it to you. It was a symbol of his affection, a tangible reminder of the connection that had grown between you. x

"What kind of game?" You inquired, your curiosity piqued, though a hint of apprehension crept into your voice.

"Have you ever play tag?" Alfie asked, his gaze intent, locking onto yours.

You nodded slowly, recalling the childhood game and wondering where this was leading.

"Something like that... a little game where you run and hide, and I come hunt you," Alfie explained, his eyes taking on a more ominous hue, like a predator assessing its prey.

"Hunt?" You questioned, your surprise and growing unease evident in your voice.

"Yeah," Alfie replied, a chilling smile playing on his lips. "You've gotta try not to get caught." 

The dark undertone in his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of danger.

"Well, how do I win, then? I can't just keep running forever," you chuckled nervously, attempting to ease the tension that had settled between you.

Alfie's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. "You've gotta make sure I don't catch you within an hour. If you manage that, you win."

A playful grin tugged at your lips as you teased, "And what's my prize if I win?"

Alfie's gaze deepened as he leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a husky murmur, "Anything you want, Dove."

Your heart raced at his enticing offer, and you couldn't resist pushing further, "And if you manage to catch me?"

Alfie's smirk grew more seductive, and he whispered with an alluring charm, "Then, my dear, I get to have my way with you until the hour's up."

A shiver ran up your spine at his suggestive words. You couldn't deny the allure of his proposal, tinged with danger and excitement. Despite the unease that still lingered in the back of your mind, you found yourself drawn to the challenge, to the thrill of the chase.

Alfie stepped back, giving you a bit of space as he added, "But don't worry, love, I'll give you a head start. You'll have five minutes to run and hide before I come after you."

Your heart raced with a mix of anticipation and trepidation as you nodded in agreement. The game had been set, and you were determined to give him a run for his money.

"Where are we playing this?" you asked, your eagerness apparent in your voice.

"In the woods," Alfie replied with a sly grin.

The woods. His territory. Your stomach flipped, knowing that the game was about to unfold in a place where Alfie held the advantage. Still, the thrill of the chase and the chance to outsmart him drove you forward. 

You remained at Alfie's house, perched on the edge of anticipation and curiosity. The prospect of the upcoming game had your heart racing. As you glanced around the cosy interior, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The woods loomed just beyond the walls, a constant reminder of where the game would take place.

Alfie stood up, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. His earlier proposition, filled with suggestive promise, hung in the air between you like an unspoken challenge. You had accepted, partly driven by a desire to win but also intrigued by the enigmatic man before you.

With a subtle nod, Alfie led you toward the door that opened up to the thick woods surrounding his house. As you stepped outside, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The air felt cooler, and the sounds of nature enveloped you. The forest seemed to come alive with rustling leaves and distant chirping birds.

Alfie leaned casually against the door frame, the confident tilt of his head making him seem all the more enigmatic. He reached into his pocket, retrieving a gleaming pocket watch. With a slow, deliberate movement, he handed it over to you. The polished surface of the watch reflected the muted light filtering through the trees, and you couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship before flipping it open.

The intricate watch face displayed the time: 3:58. Your heart quickened as you observed the minutes ticking away. Alfie's voice brought you back to the present, his words dripping with both anticipation and amusement.

"When that clock hits 4, my little Dove," he whispered, his voice a seductive murmur, "you have an hour to run."

With those final words, Alfie pushed away from the door frame, his eyes locked onto yours. The gravity of the challenge settled over you like a cloak, and you knew that the next hour would be a test of both your wits and your ability to evade the captivating and elusive man who had lured you into this game.

Alfie closed the door behind him, leaving you alone to contemplate the impending challenge. The quietude of the room seemed to amplify the ticking of the pocket watch in your hand. Each second that passed felt like an eternity, and you could feel the weight of the forthcoming game pressing down on you.

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself for what lay ahead. The allure of the hunt, the thrill of the chase, and the enigmatic Alfie waiting beyond the door all combined to create a heady mixture of excitement and trepidation. As the watch's second hand inched ever closer to the hour mark, your heart raced, and you prepared to embark on a game that would test the boundaries of your fear and desire.

Looking down at your bare feet, you briefly contemplated the idea of grabbing your shoes, only to remember that you had worn your nice ones. The elegant footwear might be fitting for a stroll in the garden but would be wholly unsuitable for the game you were about to play. You decided that going barefoot would be the better option, even if it meant navigating the forest's uneven terrain without the protection of shoes.

3:59.

Looking down at your wine-red dress, you couldn't help but curse yourself for your choice of attire. It was a beautiful garment, but utterly impractical for blending into the woods. You'd stick out like a sore thumb, and that realisation left you with no other option – running was your best bet. A tingling sensation of anticipation coursed through your body as the seconds ticked away, each moment edging closer to the start of the game.

30 seconds. 

As you stood there, the seconds on the pocket watch ticking away, your heart raced in anticipation. The last few seconds felt like an eternity. Every passing moment heightened your sense of excitement and trepidation. You could hear the faint rustling of leaves outside, a soft breeze whispering through the trees, as if nature itself were conspiring with Alfie in this exhilarating game.

With each tick of the watch, your breathing quickened, and your thoughts raced. The reality of what was about to happen washed over you. You were about to embark on a thrilling chase through the woods, pursued by the enigmatic and seductive Alfie. It was a dangerous game, but the exhilaration was undeniable.

At last, the final moments arrived. The watch's minute hand reached 12, marking the hour, and the second hand swept past 60. With a deep breath and a racing heart, you pushed yourself off the door and stepped out into the woods, ready to begin this electrifying game of cat and mouse with Alfie.

The forest seemed to close in around you as you sprinted without hesitation. Your footsteps were swift and purposeful, and although fear coursed through your veins, you couldn't deny the exhilaration that came with the adrenaline pumping through your body. Each stride you took was filled with determination, propelling you deeper into the woods.

The tangled underbrush and uneven terrain made each step a challenge, but you pushed forward, your instincts guiding you to choose the best path. The sound of leaves crunching beneath your feet echoed in the quiet forest, and your breaths came in rapid bursts, mingling with the crisp air.

Every now and then, you cast a fleeting glance over your shoulder, half expecting to see Alfie already hot on your heels. The thought of him chasing you through the woods added an extra layer of excitement to your sprint, and it was as if you were living out a thrilling fantasy.

The minutes ticked by, but you kept running, pushing your limits, determined not to be caught before the hour was up. 

As you navigated the hilly terrain, the constant ups and downs made it impossible to catch a glimpse of the house. It had disappeared from your view entirely, hidden behind the thick foliage and undulating landscape. The forest around you was a labyrinth of trees and shadows, and you couldn't help but feel a growing sense of isolation.

With each step you took, the distance between you and Alfie increased, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were truly alone in this vast, mysterious forest. The sense of freedom and exhilaration mingled with a creeping unease, and you couldn't help but wonder if you were the hunter or the hunted in this dangerous game.

Your breaths came out in heavy puffs as you gradually slowed down to a brisk walk, stealing a glance at the pocket watch clutched tightly in your hand.

4:03.

A rush of excitement coursed through your veins. In just two minutes, Alfie would be released, ready to hunt you down. With a touch of luck, you hoped he would head in the opposite direction from where you had run, giving you a precious head start in this heart-pounding game of survival. 

As you continued your brisk walk, the forest around you seemed to close in, the tangled trees forming a canopy that obscured the sky. Every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs made your heart race, imagining Alfie lurking behind every shadowy tree. The woods were dense, filled with hidden paths, and you hoped to lose him in the labyrinthine tangle of nature.

4:05. 

Glancing at the time on the pocket watch, you felt your heart leap into your throat. You finally stopped and crouched behind a large, gnarled oak tree, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Silence surrounded you, broken only by the sounds of your own rapid breathing. Your eyes darted to the pocket watch. Two minutes had passed, and Alfie was now unleashed.

Your ears strained for any sign of movement, any clue to Alfie's whereabouts. The anticipation was excruciating as you braced yourself for the chase that was about to begin. Time was your ally and your enemy, and you knew that the stakes were high in this game of hide and seek.

The tension in the air was palpable as you crouched behind the tree, your breaths coming in shallow, hushed gasps. Hiding had not been your initial strategy, but the weight of the game had settled on your shoulders, and you couldn't help but feel as though every tree, every rustling leaf, had eyes fixed upon you.

A sense of urgency compelled you to move, to put as much distance as possible between yourself and Alfie, but your limbs felt strangely uncooperative. Fear and excitement intermingled within you, creating a heady cocktail of emotions that made your body feel both heavy and electrified. You knew that the next hour would test not only your physical endurance but also your mental fortitude as you tried to outwit the enigmatic man who pursued you through the labyrinthine forest.

As you finally picked yourself up from the forest floor, a sense of cautious relief washed over you. The tree that had concealed you moments ago now lay behind, and a sweeping glance of your surroundings revealed no immediate sign of Alfie. You let out an unsteady breath, the cool air filling your lungs as you ventured deeper into the forest.

Each step you took was measured, your senses heightened to every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs. The woods, a place of serenity just moments before, now harboured an atmosphere of tension. With each cautious step, you crept further into the heart of the forest, your eyes scanning for any hint of movement or sound that might betray Alfie's presence. The thrill of the game coursed through your veins, mingling with your sense of unease. The forest had transformed into an enigmatic labyrinth, and you were determined to navigate its challenges, no matter what lay ahead.

4:16.

Your cautious exploration of the forest continued, each footfall echoing with your apprehension. The minutes stretched on, and you couldn't shake the feeling that Alfie could appear at any moment. Despite your determination to stay alert, your legs began to grow weary, their protest a reminder of the physical toll your fear was taking on you. 

You couldn't help but wonder why your stamina seemed to be dwindling faster than you expected. Perhaps it was the relentless anxiety that had been building since the start of this game, or the constant adrenaline coursing through your veins. Regardless, you couldn't afford to let exhaustion overtake you now. With a deep breath, you steeled yourself to push forward, determined to outlast Alfie and claim victory in this twisted game of cat and mouse.

Your gaze swept upward to the towering trees that surrounded you. The thought crossed your mind: would climbing a tree be considered cheating? It was a tempting idea, a way to gain an advantage in this high-stakes game of pursuit and evasion. But the rules of this perilous game were unclear, and you had no guarantee that Alfie wouldn't do the same. The woods were his domain, and you were merely a player in his twisted game.

As you stood at the base of the towering tree, your gaze wandered up its formidable trunk, tracing the intricate network of roots that snaked across the forest floor like nature's own artwork. The bark, rough and textured beneath your fingertips, provided an unexpected comfort as you began your climb. The tree's ancient branches, strong and gnarled, offered a labyrinthine path upwards, guiding you like an old friend leading you through a secret world.

The initial ascent was a thrilling challenge, the sensation of your hands gripping bark and your feet finding purchase on the uneven surface exhilarating. Your heart raced with a mixture of excitement and trepidation as you ascended further into the forest canopy. Each foothold and handhold seemed to have been crafted by nature herself, and your nimble movements belied your initial hesitation.

Eventually, you reached a stable branch that cradled you like a natural throne. A dense canopy of leaves arched above, forming a verdant umbrella that concealed you from prying eyes below. It was here, perched amid the rustling leaves and filtered sunlight, that you felt a surge of triumphant relief. The forest stretched out beneath you like an unexplored realm, and for now, you were its hidden observer. A sense of victory washed over you as you caught your breath, but the game's suspense still lingered, a subtle undercurrent to your newfound sanctuary.

As you perched in your leafy hideout, the vibrant emerald foliage surrounded you, creating a natural fortress. The tree's rough bark pressed against your skin, grounding you in this newfound sanctuary. The forest below sprawled out like an endless tapestry of greens and browns, with sunlight filtering through the dense canopy, dappling the ground in shifting patterns of light and shadow.

From your lofty position, you could see the intricate dance of leaves, swaying gently in the breeze, and hear the distant murmurs of the forest's inhabitants. The woods seemed like a world of its own, a secret realm where you had temporarily taken refuge.

4:32.

Minutes passed like a languid river, each second stretching out into an eternity. The mischievous giggle that had escaped your lips earlier now seemed like a distant memory, replaced by the solemn realisation that this game was far more intense than you had initially imagined. Despite the temporary respite, the thrill of the chase continued to course through your veins, and the sense of impending discovery hung heavy in the air.

You remained perched among the leaves, your breaths coming slow and measured, every rustle and creak of the forest making you jump with anticipation. The minutes dragged on, and doubt began to creep into your mind. What if I can’t get down? What if Aflie has already given up looking? Despite the uncertainty, you couldn't bring yourself to climb down just yet. The adrenaline, the fear, and the excitement had woven themselves into a complex tapestry that you couldn't easily unravel.

A bored sigh escaped your lips as you leaned your head against the tree. You couldn't help but admit that your own choices had contributed to your growing boredom. Instead of actively exploring the forest and keeping up the pace, you had opted for a more passive strategy, perched up a tree like a lazy observer. 

Frustration welled up inside you as you berated yourself for not being more proactive. This game was your chance to outsmart Alfie, to prove that you could evade his pursuit, and yet here you were, feeling like you were squandering your advantage. With a renewed sense of determination, you pushed away from the tree, resolved to rejoin the hunt and claim the upper hand once more.

Your fleeting moment of bravery quickly gave way to uncertainty as you looked down from your treetop refuge. Questions flooded your mind: What if Alfie walks past while I’m climbing down? You couldn't help but curse your own hesitation and perceived cowardice.

Glancing at the nearby trees, you began to wonder about the possibilities. How close was that tree over there? The idea of moving from tree to tree might seem foolish, but in your anxious state, it also felt like a potential advantage. The forest's canopy appeared interconnected, offering the chance for you to remain hidden while on the move. With a mix of apprehension and determination, you decided to cautiously explore this daring idea, hoping it would pay off and give you an edge in the game.

Balancing on the sturdy branch, you gripped another limb for stability. With careful steps, you inched your way along the branch, approaching the intertwining branches of nearby trees.

As you moved, the leaves rustled softly beneath your feet, and a slight breeze tousled your hair. The forest around you seemed to come alive with the sounds of birds singing and leaves whispering secrets to one another. The sensation of being suspended among the trees filled you with a strange mix of exhilaration and trepidation. 

Reaching the second tree, you let out a sigh of relief, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. The pocket watch Alfie had entrusted you with felt like a comforting weight in your hand. You flipped it open to check the time, the delicate ticking of its mechanism filling your ears as you saw the numbers.

4:37.

As you checked the pocket watch again, you noted with a sense of relief that not much time had passed since your last glance. The tiny, delicate hands of the watch revealed that there were only 23 more minutes left. A surge of determination coursed through you as you continued to strategize your next moves, determined to stay one step ahead of Alfie.

Your momentary celebration was cut short by a distant sound, faint yet unmistakable – footsteps. Panic surged through you, causing your breath to hitch. Clutching the tree trunk tightly, you tilted your head to the side to peer past it. There, in the dim distance, a moving silhouette came into focus – it was Alfie.

Fear coursing through your veins, you wasted no time. Quickly, you darted behind the tree for cover, your heart pounding in your chest as you hoped against hope that Alfie hadn't spotted you.

Panic surged through your mind, your thoughts racing at a frantic pace. Desperately, you clung to the tree, hugging its rough bark as if it were your only lifeline. Your silent prayer was for the leaves to be your saviours, concealing you from Alfie's searching gaze. You cursed your choice of attire, realising that your dress was making this whole ordeal much more challenging.

The deliberate and predatory sound of Alfie's footsteps grew louder with each passing moment, sending shivers of fear coursing through your body. His approaching presence felt suffocating, and the thought of him drawing closer to the very tree you were hiding in couldn't be worse luck. Your heart raced, and you pressed yourself tighter against the tree, desperately hoping that the leaves and branches would continue to shield you from his view.

With trembling hands, you quickly tucked the flowing fabric of your dress between your legs, holding it in place to prevent it from billowing out and giving away your position. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant sound of his footsteps filled the air as Alfie drew nearer, and you knew that remaining still and hidden was your only chance of evading his pursuit.

As you moved stealthily around the tree, you couldn't tear your eyes away from him. His predatory aura seemed to grow stronger, sending a shiver down your spine. Every step he took was calculated and deliberate, and the intensity of his presence felt suffocating. You pressed yourself tightly against the rough bark, your breath shallow and your heart pounding in your chest.

The seconds felt like hours as you watched him, hoping against hope that he would move on. The fear inside you churned, and you prayed that your hiding spot among the leaves and branches would keep you concealed. The tension in the air was palpable, and the forest seemed to hold its breath, as if aware that something pivotal was about to happen.

Your breath caught in your throat, and with legs trembling like leaves in the wind, you cautiously and silently shuffled around the thick trunk to the opposite side, all the while keeping your fearful gaze locked on him.

Your eyes remained fixated on Alfie, watching his every move with rapt attention. His actions became more intriguing by the moment. He seemed lost in deep contemplation, slowly turning in place as if searching for something. A sense of unease washed over you as you noticed his deep, deliberate breaths, drawn in through his nose. It was as though he were sniffing the air, his senses acutely attuned to the surroundings.

Dread crept over you like a shadow, and you dared not make a sound. What was he searching for? Has he caught a trace of your presence? The forest seemed to hold its breath along with you, and the suspense was almost unbearable. Each passing moment felt like an eternity as you waited in fearful anticipation of his next move.

Your rational mind tried to reassure you that it was impossible for him to detect your scent from your elevated perch. Even with a hint of perfume, you were far too high above the ground, and the brisk wind that rustled the leaves masked any fragrance that might have given you away. But despite your logical reasoning, a gnawing sense of uncertainty persisted, like a seed of doubt taking root in your mind. The adrenaline coursing through your veins was a stark reminder that, in this thrilling and perilous game, anything could happen.

His frustration was palpable, etching lines of irritation onto his face. A low growl rumbled from his throat, a guttural sound that carried through the forest. The sight and sound of his growing exasperation sent a shiver down your spine, intensifying the heart-pounding fear that coursed through your veins. In that moment, you realised just how determined he was to catch you, and the danger of this deadly game became all too real.

With a simmering anger that seemed to radiate from his very being, you could see Alfie stomp off into the distance, his movements filled with frustration and pent-up aggression. It felt as though a tremendous weight had been lifted from your shoulders as he moved farther away, leaving you with a sense of profound relief. You silently thanked the heavens for his failure to look up, realising that you had narrowly escaped his clutches for the time being.

4:41.

After a considerable pause, you carefully decided that the best course of action was to climb down from the tree and run off in the opposite direction Alife had just gone. The rough bark scraped against your hands as you carefully manoeuvred down, your muscles tense with the anticipation of every creak and rustle of leaves underfoot. The forest seemed to hold its breath as you lowered yourself to the ground, your mind racing with thoughts of how to outwit the relentless predator who was still in the vicinity. The earth felt cool beneath your bare feet as you finally touched down, and you took a moment to survey your surroundings, keenly aware that every second counted.

4:46

As your feet touched the ground, you couldn't help but release a sigh of relief, feeling the solidity of the earth beneath your bare soles. Your steps became increasingly careless, almost triumphant, as you ventured away from the tree. In that moment, you tasted the sweet flavour of victory, knowing there were less than 15 minutes remaining before the game concluded. The thought that Alfie was likely wandering somewhere deep within the forest heightened your sense of triumph, and you walked with newfound confidence.

Oh, but how wrong you were.

"Was my little Dove hiding in the trees?" he taunted, his gaze filled with a predatory gleam that made your stomach churn with dread.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of Alfie's voice, the very voice that had once been a source of comfort and charm, now laced with a sinister edge. His sudden appearance sent a shiver down your spine as you turned to face him, your momentary triumph fading into the chilling realisation that he had found you.

Your head whipped around, and there, standing behind a tree not far from you, was Alfie. He had never left; he had been lurking in the shadows the entire time. A cocky smile played on his lips as he watched your startled reaction, revelling in the thrill of the hunt.

With a quick turn, you bolted in the opposite direction, your heart pounding as adrenaline surged through your veins. It was just a game, but the thrill of being chased was undeniably exhilarating. Alfie was undoubtedly a big man and didn't hesitate to use it to his advantage. His hearty laugh echoed through the woods as he gave chase, his powerful strides closing the gap between you. The forest around you blurred as you ran, the world reduced to the sound of your rapid breaths and the pounding of your heart. 

The pounding of your heart seemed to reverberate in your ears as you sprinted through the dense woods, knowing that Alfie was hot on your tail. The fear that coursed through you was almost paralysing, and you dared not look back to see how close he was. The branches and underbrush seemed to claw at your clothes and skin as you pushed yourself to run faster, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. The thrill of the chase mixed with the dread of being caught, creating a maelstrom of emotions that left you both terrified and exhilarated.

In an instant, Alfie's strong and relentless grip closed around you, and you let out a piercing scream as he tackled you to the ground. The impact was sudden and jarring, and the forest floor pressed against your back, stealing the breath from your lungs. The fear that had been simmering just below the surface now erupted in a torrent of panic, and you struggled against his hold, desperately trying to break free.

"Now, Dove... I won. That means..." Alfie paused, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing the pocket watch once more. He flipped it open and peered at the time. "I have 12 minutes to have my fun with you." His voice held a sinister edge, and a cold chill settled in the pit of your stomach as you realised the consequences of losing the game.

Your body ignited with a mixture of emotions as Alfie's words sank in. Without hesitation, he closed the gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. His mouth was hot and demanding, pulling you into a fiery embrace that left you breathless and overwhelmed. As Alfie continued to kiss you passionately, his hands roamed over your body. Your initial fear and resistance began to wane, giving way to a heady mix of desire and surrender.

His lips left yours to trail a path of heated kisses along your jawline and down your neck, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You couldn't help but gasp in response to his skilled touch.

Alfie's voice, rough and seductive, whispered into your ear, "You belong to me, little Dove. Always have..”

Alfies predatory presence gave you an overwhelming sensation of fear and desire. Your heart raced, and your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as Alfie continued his passionate assault.

His hands, firm yet gentle, explored every curve of your body, leaving a trail of heat and anticipation in their wake. It was as though he knew every secret, every hidden desire, and he was determined to awaken them all.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and you surrendered to the intoxication of the moment. As Alfie's lips sought yours once more, your world narrowed down to the sensations he elicited, and the minutes slipped away, taking you deeper into the enticing darkness of his touch.

Alfie felt the urgency mounting as he realised that time was slipping away, and there was so much he wanted to do in this brief window. The minutes were ticking by, each one more precious than the last.

Alfie yanked up your dress, dragging the fabric past your hips, exposing your cotton underwear and bare thighs to his piercing gaze. A mix of excitement and anticipation coursed through you as you surrendered to Alfie's desires, knowing that he had only a few precious minutes left to claim you in every way he desired.

Your breath hitched as Alfie's hands roved over your exposed skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Every touch, every brush of his lips against your neck, sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. With each passing second, the urgency between the two of you escalated, driving you both to the edge of ecstasy.

You sensed the battle within Alfie, as he struggled to contain his primal desires. The intensity in his gaze grew more fervent, and you could see his self-control slowly slipping away like sand through his fingers. 

“Come on, Alfie..10 minutes.” You spoke with a whispered tease, you encouraged him to give in to his deepest cravings, to let go of restraint and unleash the passion that had been building between you.

At that moment, Alfie's restaurant shattered like fragile glass. His movements became more urgent, his grasp on your body tighter. The air crackled with anticipation as he surrendered to the raw hunger that consumed him. With a primal growl, he claimed you completely, losing himself in the intoxicating dance of pleasure and desire.

Alfie's kisses became frantic, his lips hungrily exploring every inch of your exposed skin. His hands roamed feverishly, gripping your body possessively as if he couldn't get enough. Each touch, each kiss was sloppy yet intoxicating, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. In his fervour, Alfie lost himself in the depths of raw desire, consumed by the need to indulge in the forbidden pleasure that consumed the both of you.

Senses heightened, time seemed to freeze as Alfie pressed his throbbing length against your clothed entrance. The friction ignited a blaze of desire, fueling the intensity of the moment. Your bodies moved in sync, locked in a passionate rhythm that defied all reason. The world around you faded as you surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure, consumed by the electric connection that pulsed between you.

Lost in a haze of unfathomable pleasure, the world around you blurred into obscurity. You let your head fall back on the damp leaves, busking in the pleasure Alfie was bringing you. All that mattered was the maddening sensation of Alfie's lips on your neck, sending tendrils of electric bliss coursing through your veins. As his hips moved with a desperate urgency, each motion amplified the intensity of pleasure, forging an unbreakable connection that fueled the ecstasy between you.

“My pretty little Dove likes when I play with her on the filthy ground, yeah?."

Eyes filled with an adoring passion, Alfie whispered praises against your skin, each word a testament to the power of your connection. In between gasps and moans, he exalted your beauty, your alluring presence that had mesmerised him from the very beginning. His fervent admiration fueled the fire within, intensifying the pleasure that engulfed you both, as you became lost in a world where only the two of you existed.

As the heat of desire consumed you, your legs instinctively wrapped around Alfie's hips, locking you in an intimate embrace. With each movement, clothed areas rubbed against each other, igniting waves of pleasure that surged through your bodies. The friction intensified, amplifying the sensations that coursed through every fibre of your being. In this euphoric dance, you and Alfie surrendered to the primal urges, losing yourselves in a symphony of pleasure and desire.

“You’re mine, pretty..you’re mine and I’m never gonna let you go.” he gently bit your earlobe.

Surging with an overwhelming hunger, Alfie's lips trailed down from your ear, leaving a blazing path of fiery kisses. His teeth grazed your delicate skin, marking you with his possessive desire. The sensation of his lips and tongue against your neck ignited a wildfire within, consuming your senses and leaving you yearning for more of his intoxicating touch.

As Alfie rutted into your sensitive core with a primal intensity, the ache of desire built to an unbearable peak. Every thrust brought you closer to the edge, the intensity mounting with each passing moment. Your body tensed, on the precipice of release, as a symphony of pleasure reverberated through every inch of your being, ready to explode in a crescendo of ecstasy.

“A-Alfie, Alfie! I’m so fucking close,” your voice trembled with need.

The blissful torment of ecstasy radiated through your veins, intensifying with each passing second. Uncontrollable moans escaped your parted lips, mingling with the rhythm of your bodies, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you.

4:58.

Unable to resist the intoxicating sound of your voice, Alfie quickened his pace, his movements becoming more fervent as he relentlessly chased your climax. The air crackled with a palpable energy as your bodies moved in sync, a symphony of desire and pleasure.

“Come on, sweetie.” Alfie encouraged you. “You can do it. Let go.”

With a voice dripping in encouragement, Alfie's words propelled you further towards the edge of euphoria. Every syllable he uttered was laced with a magnetic force that urged you to surrender to the waves of pleasure crashing through your body. The weight of his words pushed you past your limits, releasing all inhibitions as you succumbed to the overwhelming ecstasy building within.

In a breathless moment of pure ecstasy, you shattered, your whole being consumed by an overwhelming release that left you gasping for air and utterly spent, lost in the blissful aftershocks of pleasure.

As the echoes of your climax still reverberated through your body, Alfie's relentless grinding fueled the flames of desire within you. His determination to reach his own release only intensified the raw passion between you, the friction electrifying the air. With each grinding motion, you felt the tension building, his pursuit of pleasure mirroring your own, until finally, with a guttural moan, he found his release, the intensity of his orgasm echoing the powerful connection you shared.

As the echoes of pleasure subsided, you were left throbbing with heightened sensitivity, your body pulsating with every heartbeat. Waves of pleasure coursed through your clit as it throbbed, yearning for more stimulation, while your empty hole ached, a reminder of the intense pleasure that had consumed you. The lingering sensation kept you suspended in a state of euphoria, aching for the next touch, the next moment of bliss.

Breathless and consumed by the aftermath of your passionate encounter, Alfie showered gentle kisses on your shoulders, his lips a tender caress against your heated skin. The soft touch of his affectionate gestures contrasted beautifully with the fiery intensity that had consumed you moments ago. Then, with a loving gaze, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that spoke of his adoration and desire, imprinting the moment in your memory as a testament to the deep connection you shared.

"That was certainly...different," you replied with a chuckle, still trying to catch your breath.

Alfie rose from the ground and extended a hand to help you up. He gently brushed down your skirt, getting rid of any dirt and leaves that clung to it. 

"A fucking good game, that's what I'd call it," Alfie quipped with a smirk, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Are you feeling alright?" Alfie inquired with a hint of concern. You nodded and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as he led you back towards his house. The journey back was a comfortable one, filled with the shared excitement of the day's adventure and the unspoken connection that seemed to deepen with each passing moment.

⛓🥀⛓ "Fuck, I'm knackered," you exclaimed, collapsing onto Alfie's bed.

He chuckled, joining you and settling down beside you.

Alfie looked at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, it's been quite a day, hasn't it, little Dove?"

You couldn't help but smile in response, the events of the day still fresh in your mind. "It certainly has, Alfie."

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You know, I can't help but think we make a good fucking couple, you and I."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you found yourself drawn to him, the magnetic pull between you undeniable. "Yes, Alfie, we do."

Alfie leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. His touch sends shivers down your spine, and you find yourself yearning for more, but practicality still holds sway.

"Just sleep, okay.”

"I can't, Alfie," you whispered, your breath slightly uneven. "My mama will be waiting for me at home."

His brows furrowed at the mention of your mother, but you chose to disregard it for the moment. "Then I'll wake you in 30 minutes," he replied softly, his fingers tracing light patterns on your cheek.

You let out a small sigh, giving in to his persistence. "Alright," you said, a playful glint in your eye. "But you better make sure to wake me up."

Alfie's lips curved into a satisfied smile as you relented, and he leaned in closer, brushing a soft kiss across your forehead. "Don't you worry, Dove," he murmured. "I'll make sure you get up on time." With that, he settled beside you, and you felt a sense of warmth and security enveloping you as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

⛓🥀⛓ You were standing alone in a dense, eerily silent forest. The towering trees loomed overhead, their branches entwined like skeletal fingers reaching out to you. The moon cast an eerie pallor on the surroundings, rendering everything in shades of grey. A cold, misty fog slithered between the trees, obscuring your vision.

As you began to walk cautiously through the forest, a feeling of foreboding settled in your chest. The ground beneath your feet felt soft and unstable, as if it could give way at any moment. You tried to call out, but your voice was muffled by the oppressive silence.

In the distance, you could hear faint, chilling whispers that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. These whispers carried fragments of your own fears and anxieties, like a twisted chorus of your inner demons.

As you pressed on, you noticed a figure in the distance. It was obscured by the fog, but you could sense its presence, an unsettling aura that seemed to draw you closer against your will. With every step, the whispers grew louder, the forest darker, and the figure more menacing.

Finally, you reached the figure, and as the mist began to dissipate, you saw its face—distorted, shifting, and finally revealing itself as a grotesque amalgamation of all the fears and uncertainties that had been plaguing you.

⛓🥀⛓ As you stirred from your restless sleep at Alfie's house, the first glimmers of dawn painted the room in a soft, pale light. Panic gripped your heart as you realised you had slept through the night, far longer than you had ever intended. Your mother, you thought with growing anxiety, must have been frantic with worry for your safety. Guilt weighed heavy on your chest as you imagined the hours she had spent, imagining the worst. 

The room was silent, devoid of any clues about Alfie's whereabouts. You called out his name, your voice quivering with a mix of anxiety and confusion, but received no response. With every passing moment, the sense of unease deepened, leaving you with an eerie feeling that something had changed in the blink of an eye. Still, the pressing need to reassure your worried mother eclipsed any other concerns. Gathering your belongings hastily, you made your way to the door, your heart pounding as you prepared to confront whatever awaited you at home, unaware of the chilling truth that would soon shatter your world.

As you descended the creaking wooden staircase, your voice echoed through the once-familiar hallways, but there was no response, not even the faintest rustle to indicate Alfie's presence. The eerie silence seemed to have seeped into every corner of your home, casting an unsettling feeling over the place. You couldn't help but worry about your mother's reaction to your unexpected absence, especially given her concern for your safety.

"Alfie?" you called again, a touch of desperation creeping into your voice. The idea of venturing into the forest alone at night was daunting, and the thought gnawed at the edges of your resolve, making you hesitate at the threshold of the open door. The inky darkness outside seemed more menacing than ever, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed, something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

The heavy, ominous sounds from outside froze you in your tracks, anxiety clawing at your chest. Your initial fear that it might be a wild dog or some other menacing presence lingered like a shadow, preventing you from daring to venture out into the unknown. However, when the shrill, piercing scream of a little boy pierced the air, your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach, and panic gripped you like a vice. Your thoughts raced, torn between fear and a growing sense of responsibility, leaving you paralyzed with uncertainty, not knowing how to react to the distressing cries echoing through the night.

The scream pierced through the night, chilling you to the bone. It was unmistakably the cry of a child, filled with terror and desperation. Panic gripped your heart as you tried to make sense of the horrifying sound. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughts, torn between your fear of the unknown outside and the instinctual urge to help someone in distress.

You hesitated for only a moment before a surge of courage propelled you forward. Carefully, you inched closer to the window, peering outside into the inky blackness. Moonlight barely pierced the thick canopy of trees, casting eerie shadows that danced like spectres in the night. The forest appeared more ominous than ever, but the cries of the child pushed you to take action.

With trembling hands, you grabbed a lantern from a nearby table, lighting it with a match. The soft glow illuminated your determined face as you steeled yourself for what lay ahead. 

The heart-wrenching screams outside were impossible to ignore, tugging at your very soul. Yet, along with your concern for the helpless child, a profound sense of foreboding gripped you. The chilling possibility loomed that this horrifying ordeal might be linked to the elusive and dreaded figure the townsfolk whispered about—the so-called "boogeyman." Balancing the fear for your own safety with the moral obligation to help, you felt trapped in a nightmarish dilemma, caught between the unknown and the undeniable cries for help echoing through the forest.

Grabbing the shotgun at the front door and tightly gripping it in your trembling hands, you burst out of the house and sprinted towards the source of the child's screams. The horrifying sounds continued to reverberate in your ears until, abruptly, they ceased, plunging the night into an eerie silence. Tears brimmed your eyes. Your heart raced, and you slowed your pace, straining your senses to pick up any telltale signs. What met your ears was the gruesome, gut-wrenching sound of crunching, a sound that could only be attributed to something unspeakably dreadful happening to the poor boy. Fear and determination mingled within you as you pressed forward, ready to confront the unimaginable.

With the lantern casting flickering shadows around you, you clutched the shotgun with both hands, your fingers trembling uncontrollably. Each step you took towards the back of the house felt like an eternity, your heart pounding louder with every passing second. The darkness seemed to grow thicker, and you hesitated, torn between the compulsion to face the unknown and the instinct to flee. But you couldn't turn away; you had to know. Taking a deep breath, you inched around the corner, your body tense and ready to react.

The sight that greeted you was nothing short of nightmarish. In the dim glow of the lantern, you saw a large, grotesque creature, its form so twisted and inhuman that words failed to describe it adequately. Yet, one detail stood out starkly— it was feeding. Your blood ran cold as you witnessed the horror unfolding before you, the creature indulging in an unspeakable act that sent chills down your spine. Your grip on the shotgun tightened, your trembling hands steadying as you faced the unimaginable.

As you stood there, frozen in disbelief and fear, the impossible happened before your eyes. The grotesque creature you had confronted began to contort and shift, its body creaking and cracking as it transformed. Slowly, it shrank and twisted until it took on a more recognizable human form. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched in awe and terror, unable to comprehend the unnatural metamorphosis.

But as the figure became clearer in the dim light of the lantern around the side of the house, your breath caught in your throat. It was a person—a man. A shiver ran down your spine as you recognized the face, the eyes, and the unmistakable presence. His eyes, once warm and familiar, now bore an unsettling emptiness that sent a chill down your spine. Alfie's dishevelled appearance was a stark contrast to the man you had grown close to, and the realisation that he had been living a double life filled you with a mixture of dread and betrayal. The terror of the forest, the creature inhumanity, it had all been an act, a facade expertly maintained to conceal his true identity.

The gruesome sight before you, the blood-smeared face of Alfie, and the remnants of the innocent child left you frozen in shock. You couldn't fathom the horrors that had unfolded right in front of you, and the weight of the situation bore down on your shoulders.

"Alfie, what have you done?" Your voice quivered as you finally found the courage to speak, a mixture of fear, confusion, and anger coursing through your veins.

Alfie's expression shifted from one of cold indifference to a genuine surprise as he locked eyes with you. His blood-stained lips parted slightly, as if he was struggling to find words. For the first time since you'd met him, you had managed to catch him off guard, and the realisation that you had seen him in this monstrous form left him visibly shaken.

You could feel the tension in the air, your heart pounding as you stood there, gun trembling in your hands. Everything you thought you knew about Alfie had been shattered in an instant, and you were left with a chilling sense of dread and uncertainty.

"Dove?" Alfie's voice wavered, and he raised his hands in a mock display of innocence.

As you watched him take slow, deliberate steps towards you, fear surged through your veins. Without thinking, you turned on your heels and began to sprint. The shotgun slipped from your grasp as you bolted through the dense forest, your heart pounding with terror.

"Now, hang on just a second, Y/n," Alfie's voice quivered with desperation, each word laden with urgency, as he reached out toward your retreating form.

"Get away from me!" 

Your scream pierced through the forest, a shrill note of sheer terror that echoed among the trees. Your heart raced uncontrollably, hammering against your chest like a caged bird desperately seeking freedom. You struggled to escape Alfie's grasp, your movements fueled by a primal fear that threatened to consume you.

Blood continued to drip from Alfie's mouth, staining his lips a gruesome, unsettling crimson. His face contorted with anguish and despair, and he held his trembling hand up in a feeble attempt to appear innocent. But it was a futile gesture; you had seen the monstrous truth of what he had become.

As you darted further into the dense forest, your breath came in ragged gasps, and your surroundings seemed to blur into a frenzied collage of trees and shadows. Alfie's anguished calls reverberated through the woods, each word dripping with desperation and pleading. However, the image of his dark transformation had been etched indelibly into your mind, a horrifying revelation that she couldn't easily erase or forgive. You knew that the monstrous secret you had witnessed would forever haunt you.

Your heart raced as you stumbled through the thick underbrush of the forest, your breaths ragged and your mind a chaotic whirlwind of fear and confusion. Your eyes darted frantically from one shadowy tree to the next, searching for any sign of safety or escape.

"Y/n, you're not understanding," Alfie's voice echoed through the trees, but this time, there was a sinister edge to it, a veiled threat that sent shivers down your spine.

You refused to stop, refused to listen. Your legs carried her deeper into the forest, away from the looming figure that haunted your nightmares.

But just as you thought you might escape, a sudden burst of movement from behind made you stumble forward. Strong arms encircled your waist, and you were yanked back against a solid, unyielding chest.

Alfie's grip was like iron, his fingers digging into your skin. His voice, once soothing and charming, now dripped with malevolence as he whispered into your ear, "You can't run from me, little Dove. You belong to me."

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you struggled against his grasp, your terror giving you newfound strength. "Let me go!" you cried out, your voice quivering but resolute.

Alfie's laughter was a chilling sound that echoed through the forest. "You think you can escape the Boogeyman? You think you can escape me?"

Desperation fueled your fight as you continued to struggle, your mind racing for a way out of this nightmare. You knew you had to find help, someone who could protect you from the monster that had once seemed so charming and inviting. But escaping the clutches of the Boogeyman was no simple task, this was the monster that haunted the entire village.

"Please, let me go," you sobbed, your voice quivering with fear and desperation.

Tears cascaded down your face, their saltiness mingling with the perspiration that had gathered on your forehead. Alfie's unrelenting hold encircled you, his formidable arms enveloping your trembling form. A chilling shiver ran down your spine as his lips pressed forcefully against your temple, leaving a nauseating reminder of the blood that now smeared your face. His touch, once tender and affectionate, had taken on an eerie possessiveness that sent unsettling tremors through your being, a stark contradiction to the gentle demeanour he had shown mere moments before.

“You ate a child!” you cried out, your voice quivering with a mixture of shock and sorrow.

The weight of your accusation hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, a tense silence engulfed the room. Alfie's eyes, once warm and inviting, now bore into yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. The flickering firelight cast eerie shadows across his face, accentuating the depths of his enigmatic nature.

"I did what I had to do," Alfie finally spoke, his voice devoid of remorse, his gaze unyielding. "Survival in this world isn't fucking for the faint of heart, Y/n. You must understand that."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you grappled with the horrifying revelation. The man you had grown to care for was not just a mere stranger, but something far more sinister—a creature driven by a primal hunger and ruthless instincts. The conflict within you raged on, torn between the affection you had felt and the undeniable truth of his monstrous actions.

As the realisation settled in, a haunting question lingered in the air: How could you ever find your way back from the darkness that had ensnared you, and was there any hope for escape from the clutches of the Boogeyman?

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/n…never.” Alfie whispered in your ear. 

“B-bullshit!” you sobbed.

"Why do you think those wild fucking animals haven't laid a finger on you, eh? You reckon they're just giving you a pass? I'm the reason you're safe, Y/n, the only one who can keep you safe," Alfie hissed with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

You couldn't help but feel a chill run down your spine at Alfie's words. The warmth and safety you had associated with him moments ago now felt like an illusion, shattered by his sudden intensity. His grip on your hand tightened, and you found yourself looking at him with a mixture of fear and confusion.

"But why?" you asked, still bewildered by this revelation.

"Because they can smell me on you," Alfie explained, his voice filled with an eerie calmness. "They won't go anywhere near you." It was as if he had marked you like an animal, leaving you with a chilling sense of vulnerability and an unsettling truth about the darkness that lurked within him.

"You’re the monster in these woods..why would I ever trust you!" you cried, your voice trembling slightly. The man before you, who had been both your protector and your confidant, now seemed like an entirely different person, and you couldn't fathom the reasons behind his abrupt change in demeanour.

Alfie's eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of regret pass through his gaze. He took a step closer, his expression softening slightly, but the tension in the air remained palpable.

"Dove, you've got it all wrong," Alfie began, his voice carrying a mixture of desperation and frustration. "I may not be a fucking saint, and I've done things I'm not proud of, but I've always kept you safe. Those creatures in the woods, they'd tear you apart without a second thought. I've protected you from them, and I'd do anything to keep you safe."

"That's not the point! You kill and eat children! You're a monster!" you cried, your voice quivering with a mix of terror and anger as you attempted to pull away from him.

Your words struck Alfie deep in his heart, like a dagger of truth cutting through his carefully constructed facade. He winced as the weight of his dark deeds bore down upon him, realising how he must appear in your eyes.

"I love you... I mean, I really fucking love you!" Alfie's voice quivered with desperation as he shook you aggressively, trying to break through to you. His words were laced with a fervent intensity, but the darkness in his actions left you torn between fear and the conflicted emotions you had for the man who had once been your protector and confidant.

"You're not fucking leaving me!" Alfie's voice grew even lower and darker, a haunting edge in his tone. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your arms, conveying both his desperation and possessiveness. The intensity of his emotions overwhelmed you, making it difficult to think clearly in the midst of this tumultuous revelation.

"No, no, no!" you cried, terror coursing through you as you struggled to break free, but Alfie's grip was unyielding. You felt utterly helpless in the hands of this monster you had grown to trust.

Alfie's face remained hard and devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the man you had known. "You need to fucking shut your mouth," he snarled, his words laced with a venomous edge you had never heard before. "I can take away your protection just like that. You're coming with me, or you're gonna fucking die." The chilling threat hung heavy in the air, leaving you with an impossible choice, torn between your love for him and the horrifying reality of what he had become.

Alfie's grip remained unyielding on your arm as he forcefully pulled you back toward his home. Your desperate squirming and resistance only seemed to fuel his determination. But after a while, he seemed to grow tired of your futile attempts to break free. With a swift and unexpected motion, he hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, leaving you no choice but to dangle helplessly as he continued his march back to his home.

As Alfie carried you, slung over his shoulder like a captured prey, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within you. Fear, anger, and betrayal all fought for dominance in your racing mind. You had trusted this man, grown close to him, and now, he appeared to be a different person entirely.

The dread continued to consume you as Alfie approached his house, a place that had once felt like a refuge but now seemed like a prison. Your mind raced with questions, and fear gnawed at your insides. What did Alfie have planned for you? The uncertainty of your situation weighed heavily on you, making each step toward the ominous building feel like a step into the unknown.

You couldn't help but replay the events in your mind, trying to make sense of how everything had unravelled so quickly. The man who had once been your protector had become your captor, and you were left with a sinking feeling that escaping his clutches would be far from easy.

Fear and despair coursed through your veins as Alfie forcefully threw you onto his bed. Desperation gripped you, and you tried to crawl away when he turned his back, but he swiftly pushed you back down. The room seemed to close in around you, and you were paralyzed by your terror, unable to muster the strength to move.

Your sobs wracked your body, making it hard to catch your breath, as Alfie moved to a corner of the room. Dread washed over you when you saw him pull out a heavy chain, and your heart raced with panic. As he approached, you couldn't control your hysteria, and your cries grew louder, echoing through the room.

"Shush!" Alfie's voice was strained as he tried to calm you, but his actions only intensified your fear.

You fought against him, attempting to kick and scream, but his strength prevailed. With a roughness that sent shockwaves of pain through you, he forcefully attached a cuff to your ankle, rendering you powerless and captive in his grasp.

With the cold, unyielding chain now securing one of your ankles, you lay on Alfie's bed, trembling and sobbing uncontrollably. Panic gnawed at your senses as you tried to make sense of this nightmarish turn of events.

Alfie, his face a mixture of frustration and determination, took a step back, seemingly assessing the situation. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of remorse deep within his gaze. It was as if the man you once knew was battling the monstrous part of him that had emerged.

He let out a long sigh, his features softening slightly. "Dove," he began, his voice far gentler than before, "I didn't want it to come to this, but you left me no choice."

Fear still gripped you, but his change in demeanour gave you a glimmer of hope. "What do you want from me?" you choked out, your voice quivering.

"I want to keep you safe, just as I always have," he replied, his tone tinged with sadness. "But you need to understand, there are things out there that would harm you."

Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear, but you couldn't ignore the sincerity in his words. As much as you wanted to escape, a part of you still clung to the bond you shared with Alfie, a bond that had once made you feel secure and cherished.

Alfie moved closer, his gaze searching your eyes for any sign of understanding. "Dove, please try to see that I'm doing this to protect you. If you cooperate, I promise you'll be safe."

The room seemed to close in on you as your options dwindled. Home, your sanctuary, was now nothing but a distant memory. In the depths of despair, you understood that there was no escape from Alfie's grasp. The man who had once been your confidant had become your captor, and the realisation weighed heavily on your trembling shoulders.

A sickening realisation dawned upon you as Alfie's words hung in the air like a heavy shroud. The truth was undeniable, and it chilled you to your core: you were trapped, bound not just by physical chains but by the possessive and obsessive grip Alfie had on you.

Tears continued to stream down your face, mixing with the sobs that wracked your body. You couldn't fathom how the man you had once admired and trusted had become a terrifying stranger. The thought of never seeing your home or your loved ones again gnawed at your soul.

Alfie watched you, his expression a tumultuous mix of concern and torment. His grip on the chain tightened, and you flinched at the ominous sound of metal against metal.

"Dove," he said softly, his voice laden with sorrow, "I wish it didn't have to be this way. But you're mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

In that moment, it became painfully clear that there was no escaping Alfie's possessive grasp. The forest that had once seemed full of mysteries and adventure had transformed into a prison of nightmares, and you were its unwilling captive.

As you lay there, chained and broken, the harsh reality of your fate washed over you like a suffocating wave. In the depths of the forest that had once held allure and promise, you had become a prisoner, trapped by the very man you had grown to care for. The outside world, with its warmth and freedom, felt like a distant memory, fading further with each passing moment. The forest had swallowed you whole, and in its depths, your cries for help were destined to remain unheard, forever lost to the shadows of the trees. ⛓🥀⛓ A/N: I really hoped you enjoyed this oneshot, I know I haven't posted in AGES but I've just been through a lot of stress when I last posted and ever since, I just haven't been in the mood to write anything so I'm really grateful for everyone who has supported me.

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

HCs of Alfie with a younger wife? Like in her mid 20s 💕

Hello my darling!!! I’m sorry this took forever! But I am back!!! Please enjoy this little nugget. Also y’all HCs are so fun!!!! Maybe I should do more.

He wasn’t planning on marrying a younger woman. Let’s be honest he wasn’t planning on getting married PERIOD.

But then you blustered in…

You came in. Full of wisdom so far beyond your age. Full of confidence that came from the knowledge that you were the best you you could be. Full of light that he thought would flee from a man like him.

He immediately was drawn to you. Your soothing voice that brought down his rage, which so quickly could come full force against him when he got too brash and foolish, reminding him that there’s no need to destroy what was not yet broken.

Despite the incurable draw to you, he said he would stay away. Be respectful. Be a respectful old man.

You would have none of it. Because truthfully he wasn’t that old. He was just snippy and preferred his habits. He hadn’t been a young man ever since the war. Regardless what his birth certificate said.

In truth it didn’t take too much to get him to relent. He’s just a man in front of a beautifully infuriating woman. And after a screaming match ending with you laughing at his reddening ears and hoarse voice, he let himself finally say it, “Right then. Now only my woman gets to screech at me like you do. So I’ll see you tomorrow night? Take you to the pictures and maybe dinner?”

And soon enough he asked for your hand, rumors and shaking heads be damned. He needed you more than air, and for some reason you loved him just as much.

Alfie expected his life would change once you were moved into his home. Was only natural. But he didn’t expect to change THIS much.

Or that he would like it. That he would feel like a chasm he didn’t realize he had was finally sealed up and healed with the first morning he woke up to you next to him.

Younger yes. Unorganized you were not. And very quickly upon your arrival did you see the bachelor pad state and work your magic to rectify. To turn this dragon’s cave into an actual home. Curtains and windows finally opened to let in fresh air. Ledgers and letters were filed away. The garden in the back finally being tended to to indicate actual humans lived and loved on the premises.

Remember that Alfie has been a bachelor the majority of his life. Any pretty women which came into his life were quickly shoo’d away. So to say he was puzzled by your… womanly… tools?? Weapons??… was putting it lightly.

“My dove now what the fuck are these? They look like tiny dinner rolls.”

“They’re rollers Alfie! For my hair! Gives it the wave.”

“Right right hair wave rollers yes of course. Now what about these… powders and things?”

“My rouge and lipstick darling.”

He didn’t get it at all.

Though Alfie is partial to opera and the absolute classics, he adores the new music you bring home. His family in Boston adore you immensely and have taken to mailing you the newest records in America.

If you’re extra sweet, you can usually coax him to dance with you, spinning yourself around him in a tizzy. By the end of your evenings he’s drunk without even a single sip of rum.

He’s never been so happy. So care free. But there is this nagging feeling in his stomach. One that won’t go away. That maybe you’re not truly happy. That you’re secretly wishing to be back out with the young people. To go out dancing in pretty dresses instead of in the living room in your dressing gown. To be fawned over in illustrious restaurants instead of cooking dinner together most nights. Had he robbed you of your youth simply because he’s selfish?

He never tells you this. No being a man means keeping your feelings inside and not letting your woman see you less than perfectly confident. (His words not mine)

But you read him so easily. It’s easy when you love someone so completely. Especially if your lover gets the deepest scowl on his face when he’s troubled, staring deep into space.

When you finally coax him out of him, he merely grumbled like a shifting mountain, trying to brush it off.

But oh how he wished he told you sooner. You assure him that you never really enjoyed the clubs and high society outings. You much preferred to stay home with your friends and other loved ones. What could possibly be out there that could even come close to what you have in the house.

When you do manage to get out of the house, either to the cinema, walking Cyril, venturing out for dinner, or because you insisted that walking is good for him, he is fully aware of the stares.

Some are… disapproving. As much as they can be towards the King of Camden. But the ones he is most irritated by are the love sick stares of the young men who trail after you. Clearly covetous and stupid enough to be blind to the beast that walks close beside you.

He is shocked you don’t notice. When he brings it up to you, you merely laugh, “Why would I be noticing men staring? The only man I’m concerned with is you.”

That comment makes him smirk wickedly, grasping firmly to your waist as you laughed brightly, swatting his chest playfully when he growls in your ear.

For all your ferocity and fiery eyes, Alfie still dotes on you and frets over you. Little presents are common. He insists on you bundling at the slightest drop of temperature or precipitation. And begrudgingly “permits” you to attend to errands on your own (you and everyone else knows he would never forbid you unless it was truly dangerous. But he loves to rile you up and tease).

You’ll never want for anything being his bride. Nothing is off limits for you. Even if he does make a show of pulling out bank notes, groaning about how his bank account suffers. Even when he’s the one that insists on buying you new things.

He may be the older one, but you are some how so much more wiser and practical. Anchoring him to the present when the nightmares come. Secretly convening with his doctors to heal the deep aches and malaise. He insists you’re magic.

To some it’s unconventional. Your love doesn’t make sense. But to those who truly know, you’re a match made in heaven.

[hottpinkpenguin]

For event:

Alfie Solomons with

A - “Ask me to stay” + N - not good enough

Please. Thanks

A/n: hiiiiiii, i realized after i wrote it that i got over-excited and forgot the quote (the trope is there though!!) but i like this too much not to post it!

Alfie Solomons X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2229 Tags: angst, steam, canon-divergence, swearing, misogynistic themes

Alfie Solomons was a man of many vices and few virtues. He’d gone to great pains to ensure that. 

Usually this fact was one he lived proudly. He lived violently, lavishly, and with reckless abandon. Spent his money foolishly, shot his pistols carelessly, and slept with women thoughtlessly. This earned him a larger-than-life reputation in Camden Town. It impressed his employees, amused his business partners, and irritated his enemies. Alfie Solomons was a thorn in the side of propriety, and he loved it.

That changed quickly after meeting you. 

Alfie wasn’t entirely sure when that change happened - he couldn’t finger a specific moment or blame any particular feeling - but he had realized some time ago that the man he’d spent his entire life growing into was suddenly a hindrance.

And it had never been clearer than now.

“Mr. Solomons, I am not a man prone to jokes or levity, especially in moments as grave as this.” Your father was sitting across from Alfie, his back as straight as a whipping rod, hands splayed on the small kitchen table between them. He was taller than Alfie remembered, with shrewd dark eyes that bored straight into him. The absent smile of regret slid off Alfie’s face when he snapped back into the moment, dragged out of wistful reverie. 

“No, n-no sir.” A stutter? Alfie Solomons had never stuttered a day in his life, but here he was, reduced to a stuttering, sheepish shadow of himself in your kitchen. He could hear the slightest creak of a floorboard outside the kitchen door - no doubt you and your three younger sisters listening intently to the near-midnight conversation about your future. 

“I must admit, Mr. Solomons, I am utterly perplexed. My daughter is a young woman with no means, very few prospects beyond that which marriage will afford her. It is my understanding that she intends to pursue a life in the church, in fact.” Alfie’s heart froze to solid ice in his chest. A nun? My god, what was this woman doing to him. Alfie Solomons swore silently to himself that he’d die before he saw you don a habit and wimple. The mere sight of that alone would kill him.

“Yes sir, yes, I understand. I understand well.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed as it was rather obvious that Alfie Solomons did not, in fact, understand at all.

“She is a good girl, but plain and modest in both looks, prospects, and background. Surely a man of your… stature-” your father’s voice pressed down on this word with distaste “- would have his pick of eligible brides.”

Alfie stifled a chuckle, recognizing that it would do him no good to appear cocky or dismissive of your father’s concerns. Your father was right on all accounts: Alfie Solomons was a gangster, a womanizer, and a criminal. You, on the other hand, were… well, words failed Alfie when it came to describing you, but to say you were everything that he was not was an understatement of the worst kind. 

He settled on what he hoped was an appropriately chaste nod. Your father leaned back slightly in his chair, eyeing his eldest daughter’s apparent suitor with bald antipathy. Alfie wasn’t used to people - especially other men - regarding him so openly. It made him uncomfortable in a manner he was quite unused to, as if he was being truly seen for the first time in a long time. He squirmed slightly in his chair, clearing his throat and fidgeting with the wide-brim of his best hat, something he’d had commissioned specifically for this occasion. 

The silence between the two men was widening into a chasm. It was more than you could take. Suddenly unable to stop yourself, you leapt up from the crouch you’d been in for the last half hour, eavesdropping from the stairwell with your mother and younger sisters. You launched down the stairs, despite your sisters grabbing at your nightgown. Your mother gasped as you flung open the kitchen door, almost unseating Alfie in the process. Your kitchen was as modest as your future prospects, and with the three of you crammed into the space it was mighty tight. The added pressure of your nearly-dashed hopes, your father’s broad disappointment, and Alfie’s hopeless attachment to you turned the meager room from cozy to positively stifling. 

“Papa, please! I love him! You can’t keep me from him, I won’t let you!” 

Childish and painfully simple, not nearly the eloquent protest you’d been mulling over all day. And a lie to boot. If push came to shove - as it so often did with your father - he could very much keep you from marrying Alfie Solomons. Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment at your outburst.

Alfie, for one, thought you’d never looked more perfect. Your eyes sparkled in the dim lamplight, your hair was undone and slung over one shoulder in a lazily constructed braid, small curls breaking free around your temples and forehead. Your skin flushed with the unseasonable warm of the September night in Camden Town, those beautiful pillowy lips he couldn’t get out of his head parted and pink. If he was a coarser man and the situation less important, he felt sure he’d grab you and pull you onto his lap right then and there, bystanders and naysayers be damned.

“Saints above, m’dear, come away and cover yourself!” Your mother had been only a few steps behind you. Unable to step fully into the kitchen, she settled for tugging on your arm. Your blush deepened to a shade of red bordering on purple as you realized you were standing in nothing but a summer-thin nightgown. Alfie’s gaze hadn’t made its way far enough from your face yet to take in the ample expanses of skin on display, but your father was glaring daggers into the opposite wall, his jaw set so tight you wondered his teeth didn’t break. 

Appropriately embarrassed, the element of surprise now lost to you, you bowed your head and let your mother tug you out of the kitchen. Your mother - a soft-souled romantic at heart - made gentle soothing motions against your back as silent sobs began to rack through you. You climbed the stairs in a fog, your sisters scattering at your mother’s insistence that ‘the show’s over, girls’. With each step higher, you felt certain that the future you’d imagined for yourself with Alfie was destined to be nothing more than a far-flung dream. 

The kitchen had sunk back into a tense silence, however for subtle reasons not quite clear to Alfie, your father seemed infinitely more disquieted by your scene than he’d have expected from the sour old puss. Those gnarled, knobby hands that had, until just a moment ago, been laid out like piles of kindling on the table all evening were suddenly clasped together and fidgety. Your father seemed shorter, his spine bowing under an invisible weight. Against himself, Alfie Solomons found himself leaning forward with a hint of concern.

“Sir? Are you quite alright?” 

Your father’s gaze had lost none of its venom, although behind that mask of derision was a spark of emotion. 

“How did you manage it, Mr. Solomons?” The question was as quiet as snowfall in winter. Alfie almost had to ask him to repeat it. 

“What, sir? Manage what, sir?” More stuttering. Gods be damned, Alfie Solomons was a mess. The image of you bursting into the kitchen, all softness and outrage and girlish desire, had tied him into knots. 

“My eldest daughter is many things, Mr. Solomons. A diligent student, a kind voice to her sisters, a steadfast helper to her mother. A pious child of God.” (Alfie struggled to keep himself from breaking into an impish grin, knowing that if your father had any inkling of the enthusiastic midnight rendezvous the two of you indulged in frequently that he most certainly would not dub you pious.) “And a passionate spirit, I confess. Yet… that part of her is… locked away.” 

Alfie found himself nodding, his memory dragging him back to the first few weeks of your acquaintance. You’d been all business - all ‘yes, Mr. Solomons’ and ‘right away, sir’. But he’d seen that fire in you, the same fire your father spoke of. It simmered deep in your eyes and bubbled up when you laughed. It had sent Alfie to the brink of madness to come so close to something he wanted so badly and to be denied it. But with diligence, patience, and focus - all virtues that Alfie Solomons had gone to great lengths to rid himself of - he’d finally won you over. He’d finally found that the fire inside you burned wild and free. You were raw and open and unfettered with him now. A gift he’d kill for. Hell, he’d die for it too. 

“But not with you, apparently.” Your father’s voice trailed off into quiet. Alfie wondered what he was meant to say. He settled on a noncommittal grunt of agreement. 

“How that came to be, I find myself unable to hazard a guess…” Another probing gaze, the kind that made Alfie squirm. “And perhaps I wouldn’t like the answer. In fact, I…” Your father stopped suddenly, clearing his throat and straightening his crisp Sunday jacket. A ridiculously formal choice for the occasion, Alfie thought, although he realized he could hardly cast stones as he looked down at his freshest suit, newest hat, and shiniest shoes. It seemed both of them had understood the importance of this night, and of the things that hung in the balance with their words.

“I am quite shocked to hear myself say this, Mr. Solomons, and I urge you to leave quickly lest I reconsider. But yes. You may marry her.” 

Alfie wondered if he’d finally drank himself into madness. This surely was a dream, a whiskey-addled fever dream. He gaped openly at your father, stammering out nothing more than shocked noises. 

“You don’t have my blessing, although I won’t stand in your way.” 

The door to the kitchen burst open again, and in you came once more, squealing and flying into a pair of outstretched arms. Alfie smiled as your father engulfed you in a surprised hug. You were bouncing on your toes, peppering the side of his freshly shaved face with kisses and earnest expressions of ‘oh thank you Papa! Thank you!’ Alfie was glad to see that you’d thrown on a housecoat and pinned up your hair in a style more akin to what he was used to seeing you wear. He didn’t trust himself around you with that just-woke-from-sleep blush on your lips. 

Always trailing behind you, in rushed your three sisters and your mother, exclaiming and clapping their hands as if it were a jubilee. How the entire family - plus Alfie Solomons - managed to fit into that pint-sized kitchen was nothing short of a miracle. Hugs were exchanged, and Alfie kissed so many hands he wasn’t sure who’s high-pitched voice was talking to him anymore. 

It wasn’t until he felt your familiar weight balancing on the toes of his boots that he felt himself begin to swim into reality. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, lifting you up off your feet into his embrace. You squeaked with joy, your soft hands finding their way to frame his face. Tossing all rules of propriety to the wind, your lips connected with his in a defiant, joyful, and soft kiss. You were warm under Alfie’s hands, and he was glad that no one but you could hear the groan of need he let loose as he tasted you on his tongue. For a moment, he let himself lose time in your mouth, hands resisting the urge to roam across your backside and around the swell of your hips. 

A pointed throat cleared, bringing Alfie Solomons down from the high. 

“As I suggested, Mr. Solomons, a timely exit would be a wise decision.”

Despite his generally somber countenance, Alfie could detect the faintest note of happiness in your father’s words. A confident declaration you’d made earlier that week drifted back to Alfie: Papa loves me, Alfie. He’ll have no choice but to say yes when he sees how in love we are. 

Alfie hadn’t believed a word of that back then, but he was grateful for your prescience. With a broad smile and a swelling heart, Alfie nodded graciously to your mother, sisters, father, and lastly to you, his bride-to-be, before making his exit. He donned his cap on the front steps outside your door, not minding the oppressive warmth of a sticky night even under his three layers of wool suit.

You stepped halfway out the door to wave shyly as Alfie retreated into the night, his feet barely touching the pavement beneath. He turned back more times than he could count to see you still standing there, bathed in the streetlamp’s light. He rounded the corner at the end of your street with the warm realization that, in a few weeks time, there’d be no more goodbyes from front stoops between the two of you. Only goodnight kisses - likely much more than that, if Alfie had any say at all - as one of you would turn down the bedside lamp, turning off the light on another happy day together in a future neither of you were sure would ever come to be…

[dyns33]

Family trust

The Shelbys and the Solomons are back again with some new adventures about stupidity and love.

First there was a call from Tommy. Simple, short, straight to the point, her brother only telling her that her husband had been seen in the Russian quarter.

Several things were important to understanding this call. The Russians were dangerous, the last time the Shelbys had dealt with them it hadn't gone very well, and Alfie Solomons was partly to blame for it, because even though he hated the Russians, he thought of himself and his business first.

Her brother just wanted to know if Y/N knew anything about that. After all, maybe it was nothing. A necessary detour, without there having been a secret meeting. But he wanted to check.

She didn't know, but she promised to find out.

If she had asked Alfie directly, there was a chance he would tell the truth, or be unable to keep from groaning while trying to lie like a child. He would do this when she asked him if he had eaten the last loaf of bread, accusing Cyril.

To be sure of having an answer, Y/N asked Ollie if her husband had met the Russians.

"… Why are you asking me that, Mrs. Solomons ?"

“So that’s a yes.”

"I didn't say that, Madam ! I mean… You'd have to ask him, I wasn't there. He doesn't always say what he does."

“But you know he had to see them.”

"… I know he asked for a meeting. He came back in one piece, without a drop of blood and looking satisfied. I don't think it was important."

With his big eyes, Ollie silently begged her not to push it, because his boss was really in a good mood lately, and everyone wanted to keep it that way.

Y/N didn't go to see Alfie, and she hesitated to tell her brothers. Maybe it wasn't anything important after all.

Then Polly called her, to warn her that there had been an altercation between the Russians and the Peaky Blinders. Some men had been killed or arrested by the coppers. John and Arthur were injured.

“Tommy told me your husband saw these sons of bitches recently.”

"… Yes, but there is not necessarily a link."

"I don't believe in coincidences. Your brother is coming to Camden, I wanted to warn you. He needs to speak with Solomons to make sure he hasn't betrayed us again."

It wasn't really a surprise to see her brother walk into her house a little over an hour later. What was surprising was what he said.

“Get your stuff.”

"Tommy, what's going on ? Pol told me you wanted to talk to Alfie about the Russians, what did he say ?"

"Nothing. He wouldn't tell me anything except that I could go fuck myself. I know he's involved. Now you grab your things and come with me. You're not safe here. I should never have let you go."

Part of her wanted to protest, refusing to believe that her husband could have done such a thing, and asserting her right to stay with him if she wanted.

The problem was that her husband was perfectly capable of such a thing, having done it several times in the past. He had framed Arthur, he had participated in the Italian assassination attempt on Tom, he had let Charlie be kidnapped.

For all these things, Alfie had apologized, each time, several times, but that never stopped him from doing it again.

Everyone had thought their marriage was proof of change. Of trust. If he truly loved their sister, he would never go after the Shelby again, because that would definitely hurt Y/N.

And in the months that had passed since their union, that seemed to have been the case, until today.

If he had still given them to the Italians, Y/N would have almost been able to understand. Even to the Americans. But the Russians ?

Alfie spoke Russian because his mother was Russian, his mother who he loved as much as he hated those pretentious vodka drinkers who hated Jews and chased her through the snow with dogs.

He didn't do business with them, or only to make sure they wouldn't try to encroach on his territory.

If Alfie Solomons gave you to the Russians, that meant something, something terrible.

Y/N still remembered those many marriage proposals. Of all those nights when he looked at her with passion, whispering that he was the happiest man in the world since she became his wife. His love seemed strong and sincere, more important than anything else.

But maybe he lied. Or perhaps he had finally grown tired of her. He was able to realize that people had been right at the beginning of their story, that she was not good enough for him, that she shamed him, this little gypsy bastard.

So he no longer had any reason to be good with the Peaky Blinders. She left no words as she followed Thomas, taking nothing with her and quickly patting Cyril on the head who tried to follow her to the door.

Her departure seemed to come as a shock, because Alfie called. It was Arthur who answered, shouting throughout the house that he had no interest in trying to contact his sister, who should never have married him, and that he would be dead the second he would try to contact her again or if he was seeing in Birmingham.

After hanging up, his rage didn't go away immediately, and Arthur yelled at Y/N, asking her how she could have agreed to marry that stinking rat. But he calmed down when he saw his little sister's sad eyes, muttering apologies as he took her in his arms.

The anger completely passed, worry took place in the family, because Y/N remained sad. At first, they didn't understand why, because they had clearly told her that they didn't blame her, that it wasn't her fault, and that they still loved her.

Then, as she left her sobbing on her shoulder, Ada understood that her sister was sad because she missed her husband.

She loved her family and so she would choose them, but this betrayal had pierced her heart. She had loved Alfie, she had never imagined he would do such a thing. It was like a bereavement and she had difficulty accepting it.

They tried everything to cheer her up. Jokes, going to the sea, horse rides, nothing helped. Y/N was mourning the loss of her dear Alfie.

So it was with an air of shame that Tommy came and sat down next to her, taking her hand, remaining silent for a long moment.

"… Alfie didn't sell us out to the Russians."

"… What ?" Y/N asked as she came out of her trance, turning to her brother.

"I got some new information. I don't know what he was doing with them, but it had nothing to do with what happened. I… You were right, I'm sorry."

“But you went to see him.”

"As I said, he refused to tell me what he was dealing with, that it was none of my business. He looked suspicious, so I thought… I was wrong. There didn't seem to be any another explanation."

"… You were wrong. You are sorry. I abandoned my husband, who must hate me now, who will never want me again because I humiliated him, and you are sorry ?"

"Little sis…"

"Leave me !"

It seemed impossible to return to London. It had been weeks since she had any news, since she had not called, not trying to find out if he was innocent and leaving him without the slightest hesitation. How could he forgive such an act ? Y/N wasn’t sure she could.

She therefore remained locked in her room, her health deteriorating even more, causing her whole family to panic. They wouldn't be able to get over it if she died of grief, but she didn't want to talk to them anymore, not even her sister or her aunt.

Hiding under her blanket, she didn't move when someone came in, probably begging her to eat or telling her they were all sorry for the hundredth time. It seemed pointless to react, they quickly understood that they were not welcome when they saw that she did not respond.

“Treacle ?”

Her body moved before her mind fully understood what was happening. In an instant, she was sitting up, discovering Alfie kneeling by her bed. He looked terribly tired.

"Alfie. What… What are you doing here ?"

"Thomas called me. He told me you weren't feeling well. It's obviously even worse than the time I came for that nasty flu. Tea probably won't be enough, uh ? What’s wrong with you, love ?”

"What's wrong ?! I left you ! You must… You must hate me now." she cried, unable to stop the tears from falling.

With his large hands, Alfie wiped them all with patience and tenderness, drawing her to him to rest in his arms.

"Don't cry, love. I don't hate you. I'm not angry. At first I panicked when I found the house empty. Then Arthur said you didn't want to see me anymore, and I believed that you left me because I was a poor husband."

“You are the best husband in the world.”

"Yeah. You must have a fever or obvious lack of sleep. Tommy explained to me about the Russians. He asked me what I was doing with them, but he didn't mention the little problems that he had, otherwise I would have understood better what I was being accused of."

"I knew you wouldn't betray us. I knew that, but they said… They were sure…"

“Shh.” her husband said kindly, caressing her back. "I know. We have a complicated past, I understand why they would have believed that. I should have talked to your brother, I was afraid he would ruin the surprise."

"The surprise ?"

As usual, Alfie blamed Ollie and his men for the whole affair. And their wives. Because they had all noted the date of their boss's wedding, and they had told him that it would be good if he did something special for their anniversary.

Alfie hadn't thought of that. He didn't think it was that important, since he treated his wife like a queen absolutely every day.

But he had seen the couple's arguments about it, and besides not wanting to sleep in the living room, he wanted to make Y/N happy. He had first thought about buying a house in Margate. Paradise on Earth. They would still have their accommodation in London, but they could go there to have peace of mind.

When he talked to Ollie about it, the young man replied that it might be a little too much, or not enough. It was Alfie's dream to have this house, not Mrs Solomons', who would probably prefer to stay close to her family.

So he asked advice from these employees who were so good with women, and after hearing about flowers, perfumes, and food, someone mentioned diamonds.

He had given Y/N a lot of gifts, but never diamonds. Real diamonds, magnificent, pure, worthy of her. And the best diamonds were the Russians.

It actually meant something if Alfie Solomons agreed to talk to Russians for you.

Keeping her close, he took a necklace out of his pocket, placing it on the bed. A pure marvel indeed, far too beautiful for her. Y/N had never had jewelry like this.

“That’s what Ollie said.” Alfie sighed, resting his head on hers. "You little bastard. No gift was right for him. Well, I think he wanted to make sure you'd be happy, and since you're a goddess to my bakers, no gift was right. I can't totally blame them, I guess."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah, love. You didn't do anything. It's the Russians and your brothers' fault. A few weeks isn't that long. I told everyone you were visiting your family, and that I was very happy to have the house all to myself."

"And you were ? Happy ?" she asked shyly, still immersed in her sad state.

"Hmm. Maybe all of Camden will tell you that I wandered around like a lost dog, barking at everyone, and maybe even cried in my office once over whiskey. But people are liars."

"I missed you too."

"I wanted to come several times. I didn't care about your brother's threats, but I wasn't sure you wanted me to come, so I hung out on the station platforms, and I gave lots of contradictory orders to poor Ishmael, and finally I went home like a coward."

“I would like to go home now.”

“In London or Margate ?”

“… You bought the house in Margate ?”

"Of course, treacle. I've been thinking about it for a long time, before I even met you, and since I've known you, I can't stop imagining you there. It will truly be heaven on earth as soon as you're in this house. If you want to come with me."

Seeing her coming down the stairs, Tommy couldn't hold back a smile, relieved to see that his sister was better. He made a sympathetic comment about the necklace, but it was obvious that he too thought it was too much.

Still a little angry that he took his wife away, Alfie quickly greeted them to go wait in the car, giving Y/N time to say goodbye properly. She might have been furious too, but they had already paid for their mistake, now knowing what would happen if they separated the couple without a good reason.

In addition to these extravagant wedding anniversary gifts, Y/N learned that the Russian gang had been almost completely arrested by the police, thanks to an anonymous informant. But Alfie, with his lying face, said he didn't see why she was thanking him.

[wonderlanddreamer]

Alfie Solomons x Reader

Summary: This fic is based on this request. I'm not sure if I did it justice, but as soon as I started, the words just kind of wrote themselves.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. 18+ Only. MDNI.

The familiar scent of freshly baked bread and the faint aroma of whiskey greeted you as you entered the bakery. The air was thick with the mingling fragrances, a comforting yet heady mix that immediately made you feel both at home and slightly tipsy. The place was bustling with activity, men in flour-dusted aprons hauling hefty sacks of flour and trays laden with golden pastries. 

You adjusted the strap of your bag, feeling a pang of nervousness as you approached the counter. Your brother had insisted you handle the administrative side of the family business, and the rough atmosphere of the bakery always put you on edge. Today felt no different, the air crackling with the intensity of a place where hard labour and harder men intersected.

"Oi, who’s this then?" A burly man with a thick Cockney accent barked, his voice slicing through the noise like a knife. He eyed you up and down with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. His companions, rough-looking men with hardened expressions, smirked, their eyes gleaming with opportunistic malice.

"Just here to see Mr Solomons," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the din of the bakery. You hoped the mention of Alfie Solomons, the notorious and respected owner, would be enough to deter any further questioning.

"Don't think I've seen you around here before, love," another man sneered, stepping closer. His breath reeked of stale whiskey and tobacco. "Maybe you’re lost, eh? Need a bit of help finding your way?"

Before you could respond, a pair of rough hands grabbed your arm, pulling you closer. Panic surged through you as you struggled to pull away, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. The men’s laughter echoed around you, a chilling sound that made your skin crawl.

"Oi! Get the fuck off her, you filthy sods!" Alfie's voice boomed across the room, making the walls vibrate with its intensity. The men immediately released you, their faces paling as they stepped back, their bravado evaporating in an instant.

Alfie Solomons, with his rugged beard and piercing eyes, stormed over, his presence commanding respect and fear in equal measure. His dark overcoat billowed behind him like a cloak, adding to his imposing figure. Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed the ringleader by the collar and slammed him against the wall with a force that made the shelves rattle. "Touch her again, mate, and I'll feed you to the bleedin' pigs, you hear me?" Alfie growled, his voice low and menacing. “Now fuck off, the lotta ya.”

The man nodded frantically, his face pale with fear, and Alfie released him with a forceful shove. As he turned to you, his expression softened slightly, though his eyes still burned with an intensity that spoke volumes of his protective fury. "You alright, love?" he asked, his voice a blend of concern and restrained anger.

You nodded quickly, trying to steady your racing heart. "Yes, Alfie, I'm fine. Really," you managed to say, though your voice wavered slightly.

"Fine, my arse," he grunted, his tone sceptical as he gently guided you by the elbow towards his office. "Come on, let's get you a drink. You look like you could use one."

In the relative quiet of Alfie's office, the chaotic noise of the bakery faded into a distant hum. Alfie moved with a determined grace, pouring a generous measure of whiskey into a glass. He handed it to you, his rough, calloused hands brushing against yours with surprising gentleness. "Drink up. It'll calm your nerves," he urged, his voice softer now.

You took a tentative sip, the whiskey's warmth spreading through you, easing the tension that had coiled tightly in your shoulders. Alfie settled into the chair next to you, his close proximity making your heart flutter in a way it only seemed to do when you were with him. There was an undeniable tension in the air, an electric current of unspoken words and hidden feelings that crackled between you.

"I apologise for that," Alfie drawled, his voice low and rough, "New folk can get a bit rowdy. Usually I just leave ‘em to it, but you, love, you got this way about you. All sweet and innocent, makes a bloke wanna protect you."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you looked down, feeling shy under the weight of his intense gaze. "I don’t know what you mean, Alfie," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as your lashes fluttered up to lock your eyes on him.

"Oh, I think you do," he replied, leaning in closer. His breath was warm against your ear, and the intoxicating scent of whiskey and musk enveloped you. "You play all sweet and innocent, but I see it. The way you blush, the way your eyes light up when I talk to you like this, all close and whatnot. You like it, don’t you?"

The room seemed to shrink around you, the outside world fading as Alfie's words drew you into a private moment suspended in time. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your pulse quickening as his proximity and the intensity of his gaze made it hard to breathe.

 "Alfie, I..." you began, your voice trembling with a mix of apprehension and desire.

"Shh, it's alright, love," he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your ear. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine. "No need to be shy. I like it. Makes me wanna do all sorts of filthy things to you."

Your breath hitched, and a surge of desire mixed with nervous excitement coursed through you. Alfie’s hand moved to your thigh, his touch gentle yet possessive, as though he was staking a claim. "Tell me to stop if you want, but I don't think you do, do you?" His voice was a low, seductive rumble that made your heart race.

You shook your head slightly, unable to find your voice. The roughness of his exterior and the tantalising words contrasted sharply with the tenderness of his touch, creating a heady mix that left you yearning for more.

"That's my girl," he whispered, his voice a gravelly promise of everything you secretly craved. "Let's see just how much of that sweetness we can turn into something wicked, eh?"

He moved his hand further up your thigh, his fingers teasing the edge of your skirt. Each movement was slow, deliberate, and torturous, making you acutely aware of every inch of space he closed. "You like it when I talk dirty, don't you?" he murmured, his lips brushing against you, sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. "You like being my sweet little thing, all innocent and pure, while I think about all the dirty things I wanna do to you."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a whimper as his hand continued its slow, torturous path. The anticipation was maddening, the boundary between fear and desire becoming increasingly blurred. "Please," you finally managed to whisper, the word escaping your lips as a desperate plea.

His eyes darkened with desire as he watched you, a slow, wicked smile curling on his lips. His gaze held a fierce intensity that made you feel both vulnerable and exhilarated. "You don't have to be shy, love," he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper that seemed to resonate deep within you. "I wanna hear you say it. Tell me you like it."

Your breath came in shallow gasps, each word he spoke sending a shiver through your entire being. The tension in the air was almost palpable, a charged moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. "I... I like it," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a raw honesty that surprised even you.

"Atta girl," Alfie growled, his hand sliding further up your thigh, his touch both gentle and possessive. The roughness of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire deep within you. "I knew you did. So how much can a sweet lil’ thing like you take, eh?"

He leaned in closer, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, sending waves of electricity through your body. "You wanna know what I think about when I see you, love?" he murmured, his voice dripping with raw, unfiltered desire. "I think about bending you over this desk, ripping those pretty clothes off you, and making you scream my name for all of fuckin’ Camden to hear."

A whimper escaped your lips, your body aching with a need you had never felt before. The intensity of his words and the proximity of his touch were almost too much to bear.

"What, darlin’? Eh?" he teased, his hand slipping under your skirt, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear with maddening slowness. "Tell me what it is you want?"

You closed your eyes, struggling to find your voice amidst the overwhelming sensations. "I want you, Alfie," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire and vulnerability. "I want you to touch me."

"That's my girl," he said, his voice a rough purr filled with satisfaction. His fingers slipped under the fabric of your underwear, finding your most sensitive spot with an unerring accuracy that made you gasp. "So wet for me already," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "You really are my sweet little thing, ain't you?"

You gasped again, your body arching towards him as he began to move his fingers in slow, deliberate circles. Each touch sent ripples of pleasure through you, building a tension that was both exhilarating and unbearable. "Alfie..."

"That's it, love," he said, his voice low and rough, resonating deep within you. "Let me hear ya. Let me hear how much you want this."

Your hands clutched at the fabric of the couch, your knuckles turning white as your body trembled with each exquisite touch. The world outside seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of shared desire. "Alfie, please... I need more..."

He chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound that sent another thrill through you. His eyes glittered with a predatory gleam, his smile a mixture of dominance and affection. "Oh, I'll give you more, alright. But first, I want to hear you beg for it."

You bit your lip, your body trembling with a mix of anticipation and desire. "Please, Alfie," you whispered, your voice breaking with raw need. "Please, I need you. I need you so much."

"Good girl," he growled, his fingers moving faster, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. 

A moan escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the small, dimly lit office, your body responding eagerly to his every touch as you moaned out his name.

"That's it, love," he murmured, his voice rough and thick with desire. "Let go for me."

With a cry, you felt your body shatter, pleasure crashing over you in relentless waves. Your body convulsed in a series of involuntary spasms, a profound sense of euphoria washing over you. As the waves of pleasure subsided, leaving you breathless and trembling, you collapsed against him, seeking the solidity of his presence. 

Alfie's fingers lingered on your skin, tracing invisible patterns that sent electric currents through your body. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours with a magnetic pull that made your knees weak. "Turn around," he commanded, his voice a gravelly whisper that left no room for argument. "Bend over the desk."

Your breath hitched at his words, a rush of anticipation and desire coursing through you as you obeyed, positioning yourself against the sturdy wooden desk. The cool surface felt grounding against the heat building inside you, a stark contrast that heightened your senses. Alfie moved behind you, his presence dominating, his large hands sliding up the back of your thighs with a deliberate slowness that made your skin tingle. The fabric of your skirt bunched higher and higher, exposing more of your flushed skin to the open air.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with desire and approval. "Just like that. Y’know, I reckon you've been waiting for this, yeah? Waiting for me to take you properly."

You couldn't muster a response, your body trembling with a mix of nerves and excitement that made it difficult to form coherent thoughts. The sound of rustling fabric filled the small office as he undid his belt, the metallic clink of the buckle sending a jolt of electricity through you, making your heart pound even harder. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you back towards him with a possessive strength, and you felt the unmistakable hardness of his arousal pressing insistently against you.

"You want this, don't you?" he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned over you, his beard brushing tantalisingly against your neck. "Tell me how much you want it. Tell me you need it."

"I want it, Alfie," you whispered, your voice trembling with a potent mix of vulnerability and desire. "I need you. Please."

"That's what I like to hear," he muttered, his hands sliding down to your thighs, caressing your skin with a reverence that made your heart soar. "You're so good for me, love. So fucking good, just like I knew you'd be."

With a swift, decisive movement, he pushed your underwear down and entered you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, an intoxicating mix of pleasure and pressure that made you gasp. Your fingers gripped the edge of the desk, your knuckles turning white as your body adjusted to the sudden, intense sensation. Alfie paused for a moment, allowing you to acclimate to the feeling, his hands still firm on your hips.

"Fuck, you're tight," Alfie groaned, his hands clutching your hips with a possessive grip as he began to move. "So fucking tight and so bloody perfect."

Each thrust was powerful and relentless, driving you closer to the edge with every movement. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, mingling with your gasps and his guttural moans, creating a symphony of raw desire that echoed off the walls. The desk creaked beneath you, a testament to the force and intensity of his movements.

"Say my name," he growled, his voice rough and demanding, dripping with dominance. "I want to hear you say it, love.."

"Alfie," you cried out, your voice breaking with the intensity of your desire. The sensation of his powerful thrusts was overwhelming, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through your entire body. "Alfie, please, don't stop. Please."

"That's right," he grunted, his pace quickening, the force of his thrusts becoming almost brutal in their intensity. "You're mine, love. All fucking mine. Remember that."

Your body trembled, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. Alfie's grip tightened, his fingers digging into your skin with a ferocity that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, a spring wound to its limit, ready to snap.

"Come for me," he demanded, his voice a rough whisper. "I want to feel you come around me. Now."

With a cry, you felt your body shatter, the waves of pleasure crashing over you again with a force that left you breathless and trembling. Every muscle in your body tensed, then released in a flood of ecstasy. Your vision blurred, and the world narrowed to the exquisite sensation of Alfie moving within you, his presence overwhelming and all-encompassing.

Moments later, Alfie followed you over the edge, a deep, primal groan vibrating through him as he found his own release. His body tensed against yours, the powerful surge of his climax filling you completely. He held you close, his breath ragged and heavy, his heartbeat thundering in his chest.

For a moment, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths and the pounding of your hearts, a symphony of shared intensity echoing in the silence. Then, slowly, Alfie straightened, his hands caressing your back with surprising gentleness as he helped you to your feet. The transition was tender, almost reverent, his touch a stark contrast to the raw passion that had just consumed you both.

"You're alright, darlin’," he murmured, his voice softening into a soothing rumble that seemed to envelop you. "I've got you."

You leaned against him, your body still trembling from the intensity of what you'd just experienced. The warmth of his body was a comforting anchor, grounding you in the aftermath of the storm. "Thank you, Alfie," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude and something deeper, something more profound. It was more than just thanks for the physical pleasure; it was an acknowledgment of the emotional sanctuary you found in his presence.

He chuckled softly, his eyes warm and filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. A hint of a smile played on his lips, a rare softness that he reserved only for you. "No need to thank me, love," he said, his voice gentle yet firm, each word a vow. “I'll always take care of you, you hear?"

His words settled over you like a protective blanket, wrapping you in a sense of security and belonging that went beyond the physical. You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the lingering heat of the moment. It was a deeper, more enduring warmth that filled your heart and soul, a testament to the connection you shared.

In Alfie's arms, you felt safe. More than that, you felt cherished and valued. His fingers continued to trace soothing patterns on your skin, a silent promise of his unwavering devotion. The rough pads of his fingers were a comforting contrast to the softness of his touch, each stroke reaffirming his presence and his promise.

"Turn around," he commanded softly, his voice a gravelly whisper that made your heart flutter with a renewed sense of anticipation. "I wanna see your face."

You obeyed, turning to face him, your eyes locking onto his with a mixture of vulnerability and adoration. His gaze softened, a tender smile curling at the corners of his lips as he cupped your cheek in his hand. The roughness of his palm against your skin was a grounding touch, a reminder of his strength and the gentleness he reserved for you.

"You're mine now," he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet intensity that made your heart soar. The words were a declaration, a promise, and a reassurance all rolled into one. "Understand?"

"I understand," you echoed, your voice a breathless whisper as you leaned into his touch, feeling a profound sense of contentment and belonging. 

His thumb brushed tenderly against your cheek, a cheeky grin turning the corners of his lips. “Now, I do believe you came here with business to discuss?”

[pacifymebby]

Afraid of Everyone / Alfie Solomons

Hurt/comfort tw kinda violence against women/misogyny, mostly just soft protective Alfie. Based on that PTSD episode I had a few weeks ago.

You looked petrified. That was the only way he could describe you and the look you'd unintentionally shot in his direction. Even from across the crowded bar he could tell that you were trembling. That you'd done your best to be stubborn and brave in the face of the cunt who'd just gotten a little nasty with you at the bar because you'd rejected his advances, but that now the moment of conflict had passed you were frozen to the spot, scared that any sudden movement would see you spiral and burst into tears.

He hadn't ever really seen you like this before. You were always the suffer in silence, the indignant, stubborn and self defensive type. But he recognised the look in your eyes from the faces of other women he'd known. That teetering on the edge of tears look. The thin line of your lips pressed together, tight and unsmiling. The stubborn stare, the determination not to cry giving your upset and terror away. A real tragedy because you were doing so well to stand your ground and had you not inadvertently shot him that "help me" look just then you'd have had everyone in the room fooled.

But you couldn't fool him and he knew exactly what you needed in that moment when the dread was squeezing your chest too tightly. When your legs and hands were shaking. When you were struggling to breath steady. You needed him, your Alfie to come sweeping in. To steal you away from that overcrowded, shit hole he didn't even understand why you'd come to anyway. Pretty little sweetheart such as yourself, trying to stand her ground in the arse end of London Town.

He'd made his mind up about cutting in before he saw one of those lary fuckers raise his hand to you, before he heard the vile thing he said to you too. But when the half cut man staggered forward into you and spat his scorned vitriol in your face Alfie couldn't stop himself.

"Alright then..." he announced his presence with his hands on your shoulders, the warmth of his body behind yours sending a little quiver of relief through you. The sound of his voice giving you the strength to remain standing tall in the face of the cunt who stood leering at you across the table. "Alright then my little cherub you gonna introduce me to your new friends? They don't look very friendly mind you, nah... Specially not this cunt... Nah ziskeit, this cunt in particular looks like a right miserable... Well..." he flexed his tone, taking one hand from your shoulder to caress your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

"Well... He looks like a cunt don't he..."

The cool metal of his rings soothed the blush burning your skin and when his fingers lingered near your mouth you understood exactly what he was doing.

Saving you.

Promising to take you home and take care of you just as soon as he'd scared these poor bastards out of town.

"Now then," started Alfie, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two men who had stood so proudly only moments before but who were already cowering away under Alfie's cruel glare. They'd certainly sobered up in the seconds it had taken him to cut between you. Pick them out. Get their measure. "Now then boys... Got a little favour to ask you haven't I eh my sweets.. got a teensy tiny little favour to ask you right?" he said stroking his hand down your arm, his tender little acts uncanny when compared to the tone in which he spoke.

His fingers found yours and entwined with them for a moment, locking and then unlocking, dancing lightly over your palm as he carried on drawing out his threats.

"Y'see boys," he said, "I'm gettin on a bit now me and well my hearin' just ain't what it used to be yeah... And I miss things sometimes right...things I'd quite like to hear... And just now yeah, when you were talking to my lovely, frankly 'too pure to share the same fuckin breathin space as you' girl yeah, well I was all the way over there right..." He said eyes going wide as he gestured with his hand to the other side of the room, walking his fingers through the air just before you so that neither you nor the men in question could take their eyes of his menacing hand. "See it's quite far ain't it that... Quite far away wouldn't you agree?"

You watched the two men nodding, saw how they tried to hide their shaking. Saw how they tried to inch away. They must have known they couldn't really run. Must have known they were trapped and at Alfies mercy.

So now they knew exactly how they'd made you feel. As Alfie opened his long coat and subtly wrapped it around your shoulder, letting you press yourself against his chest, letting you hide behind the thick black material and quiver into his side, you couldn't help but smile at that; the knowledge that those two men were feeling small. Just as small as they had made you feel only moments before.

"So yeah, this favour what I want you two boys to do for me, Alfie Solomons the king of Camden fuckin Town, therefore by extension the king of this here fuckin shithole of a public house... Yeah... What I want right... Is for you to repeat exactly what you just said to my girl yeah? Cause I was pretty far away right and I'm not entirely sure I heard you right yeah.. and before you say anything yeah..." He held his finger to his lips to shush them, his eyes wide and theatrical, that eccentricity leaving the two men with unsteady knees, "before you say another word right I want you to think very fuckin carefully about what you're gonna say alright... Cause the thing is yeah, what I reckon is that you'd better fuckin hope I didn't hear you right.. cause if I did yeah, if you did in fact say the terrible, frankly horrifying unrepeatable things I thought I heard you say just now yeah... I'm gonna take your fuckin billiards yeah, and I'm gonna make you swallow em one by fuckin one until your ugly cuntin face caves in..."

You watched their faces pale, watched the blue tinge of fear taint their skin as they froze, mouths opening and closing, panic setting in. But Alfie didn't do anything. Didn't carry out a single one of his threats because with you wrapped up within the confines of his coat he could feel your little body trembling against his and he knew he needed to take you home. Needed to get you somewhere quiet where it could be just the two of you. Where he could sit you in his lap and take care of you the way you needed him in that moment with your big sad eyes looking up at him all watery and scared.

"Nah," he sighed, his sudden softness uncanny when matched with the glare he'd fixed on those men. The way his hand lingered in the air between him and them, accusatory finger still extended towards them as he changed his mind. Lowered his voice and grew tender instead, focussing on you.

"Nah," he shook his head, pulled his coat tighter around you and squeezed you to his chest with one arm holding you to his warm body. The other still aimed at his new enemies. "Reckon I'll make em wait eh? Give em a little while to ruminate on all their sins before they see their comeuppance yeah? What do you think eh my little ziskeit? You reckon we should make em wait it out?" He asked looking down at you, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing a tear which had slipped from your lashes despite your best efforts not to cry.

"Yeah," you tried to say, though your voice never made it beyond your lips he still knew what you'd meant to say to him.

"Alright then," he grinned snapping his fingers towards the bar, pointing out the two cunts he couldn't wait to get his hands on in the morning, "Alright mate... You see these two miserable cunts there yeah... See em? Can't miss em really ugliest fucks for a country mile... I mean look at em, cunts should be livin in the dungeons at the opera Garnier, phantom of the operas a prettier sight than them two... It's like the fuckin elephant man gôr disentry right.. and shat himself... Fuckin disentry mate."

"Uh... Yes Mr Solomon's..." The poor lad behind the bar stood watching Alfie with a timid, uncertainty in his eyes, wringing his towel between his hands. Worrying, you imagined, about what was about to be asked of him.

"Right well y'see these poor bastards right... And I say "poor" but don't you go feeling sorry for them now alright, don't you feel sorry for em cause theyve fuckin earned their right to be "poor" haven't they..." Alfie let his voice wander up an octave as he spoke, that familiar meandering madness leaving the whole room in silence as they watched the scene unfold.

You hidden away in the folds of Alfie's long black coat, him with one arm wrapped around his girl, the other gesticulating between the two men who stood still trying to beg forgiveness. Their voices trembling and meek, going ignored by everyone else in favour of Alfie's theatrics. The poor lad behind the bar wringing his towel in his hands, doing his best to follow Alfie's request.

"Where was I? Oh right yeah... You ain't got a naughty step in here have you?"

"A naughty step?" The boy stuttered looking between Alfie and another bar man, begging his friend to help him.

"Yeah, y'know... somewhere they can sit nice and quiet yeah, have a good long think about what they've done?"

"Uh.." the lad hesitated, his frightened eyes meeting yours for a moment, fleeing almost the second he'd seen the whites of your eyes, not wanting to look at you when it was clear Alfie was doing his best to keep you protected and hidden away. He didn't want to find himself on the receiving end of that infamous, sociopathic temper.

"Here," Alfie clicked his fingers, pointed to a stool by the back door which was being used to prop it open, "what about this one yeah? Nice and low to the ground an all... Right where you belong.." he narrowed his eyes at the men quivering before him, flashed them a malicious grin, "fuckin sit down both of you yeah... Nah there's not much room so you'll have to share yeah... Both of you right, I want both of you to fuckin sit yourselves down there right, nice and quiet yeah... You fuckin sit there and you don't move a muscle till I come back for you yeah?" He asked waiting for a response, chuckling when the two men backed away nodding frantically as they did exactly as they were told.

You felt Alfie's chest vibrate with his low chuckle and tried to smile yourself. It was hard however because you hadn't yet managed to shake the panic that those men had sparked in you. You hadn't been able to calm down. All this time you'd been using every fibre of strength you had in you to hold it together until you were safe and sound and out of sight but you were beginning to run out of energy. Any minute now you were sure you were going to break.

"Alfie," you mouthed, tugging on his shirt to get his attention. To make him look down at you so that he'd see the paleness in your frightened face and understand. You needed him to take you home.

"Right," he nodded, his eyes locked with yours, trying to comfort you without words or affections so as not to give your vulnerability away. "Right Ollie my boy... where are ya treacle... Ollie my lad keep an eye on these two right... If they so much as blink yeah... If they so much as blink you have my explicit permission to perform whichever act of exquisite violence you so wish..."

And with that Alfie had swept you away, the crowd parting for the pair of you as you left.

The air outside was cold and a fine rain dusted over you both as you walked but you didn't feel the cold because Alfie kept you tucked up inside his coat with him, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you close.

He knew that that was what you needed above everything else just then. Some kind of physical connection, something to hold onto. Someone to feel close to.

And there was no one who could make you feel as loved or as safe as him.

You stopped beneath a streetlight and he turned you around in his arms, squeezed you tight to his chest all wrapped up in his embrace, your face buried in his shirt, breathing in his soft rum and woodland scent. You nuzzled into him and he stroked his fingers through your hair, cradling your head to him as he bowed his toward you and kissed you tenderly. Let his lips linger in your hair as he listened to your shivered breaths.

"Alright littlen," he sighed softly, "s'alright my little ziskeit, you're with me now yeah, just you an me and your Alfs gonna take care of you now right, Papas gonna get you home right, gonna make you feel all better yeah?"

You smiled into his shirt, holding onto him a little tighter, arms wrapped around his waist, his still holding you snug and tight so that you knew he meant every word he'd just said.

For a minute he let you stay there, holding onto him, face buried in his shirt, your frame tucked away inside his big coat, the heavy wool going some way to making you feel safe too. He stroked your hair down your back and rocked you from side to side, his eyes narrowed on the quiet street as he surveyed the shadows. He wouldn't relax until he'd gotten you home but he didn't want to make you worry so he did his best to relax his body, did his best to put the anger he felt to one side. To box it away until the morning when he planned to return to that pub and exact his revenge.

For now however the rain was beginning to soak into his coat and your dress and your sad expression was beginning to pinch with cold.

"Alright my girl," he said stroking his thumb over your cheek, letting it rest on your lips as he spoke, "alright poppet time to go home..."

🐻💌🐻

Until you'd met Alfie you'd done a lot of fending for yourself. Faced a lot of things alone. You weren't necessarily built for it, hadn't particularly excelled at it, but for the most part you'd survived well enough on your own. You'd been doing it so long that even after the older man had made it his new life's passion to take you under his wing and dote on your every need, you never quite got used to having someone else worry about you or take care of you.

That's why you'd been so determined not to cry in front of anyone else. That's why when Alfie got you home and closed the front door behind you both, giving you strict instructions to go and get warm by the fire you ignored him. Took yourself straight up to the bedroom and began to undress.

To you the evening was a write off, a night of total humiliation and weakness that you would rather forget. You just wanted to climb into bed, curl up foetal position small and snug, and hopefully fall asleep before you started crying on Alfie.

He'd seen you cry before, naturally, but that wasn't the point. The less the better as far as you were concerned. You weren't a little girl, you weren't weak, you were stronger than most women and you were determined to show Alfie that. Because of everyone Alfie was the one who appeared to have the hardest time believing that you could look after yourself.

You didn't even notice his shadow in the doorway or the sound of his footsteps as he came to a halt in the frame, his gaze fixed on you. You were too busy trying to take your shoes off and slip out of your skirts to realise he was watching you. Wondering why you weren't doing as he'd told you to.

"Now then poppet..." he said softly, his gaze warm but stern as he watched and waited for you to turn around. When you looked up at him you felt a nervous flutter in your tummy, a shiver running through you as your glossy eyes shone with tears and blinked up at him. If he kept looking at you like that, with all the gentleness of a father, you were going to break down. You were already so close to falling apart and the tender way his attentions were fixed on you then was leaving you struggling.

But Alfie didn't want you to struggle. He didn't want you to hold back.

"Ziskeit," he said with a gentle tsk tsk, "come 'ere girl," he said, a gentle warning tone to his low voice as he held your gaze and waited for you to do as you were told.

You hesitated, wanting to shake your head and argue with him, wanting to tell him to leave you alone... But you didn't argue back with your Alfie and you knew that if you told him to leave you now he wouldn't listen. Still, you tried.

"I'm fine Alf don't look at me like that... I'm alright really I just wanna go to bed..."

But as you argued your voice weakened because he held your gaze, looked at you with knowing eyes and remained stable and stubborn, waiting for you in the doorway.

"Now don't start with all that ziskeit, cause me an you both know it ain't true and you ain't the kind of girl who tells lies... Come on now darlin, come give your old man a cuddle yeah? You wouldn't deprive your devoted old Alfie of that would you ziskeit?" He asked offering you a tender, teasing little smirk. One which despite its humour you knew you couldn't deny.

So when he opened his arms out for you to fall into you gave in, slipped from the edge of the bed into his warm embrace, nuzzling into his shoulder as he closed his arms tight around your frame.

"There we go, good girl, good girl..." He cooed softly, his husky voice gentle and tickling your ear as he pressed a kiss to your cheek bone and whispered to you. Gentle things which left tears prickling in your eyes. "There we go my little ziskeit, back where you belong yeah? Back where you belong in your Alfie's arms..." he said every tender sentence like a sigh, his words caressing you so that you finally felt safe enough to let go of all that fear, all that hurt which had been building and rotting away inside you.

The first few tears escaping terrified you. You didn't want to let them fall but you couldn't control them. You tried to snatch at your cheek with your hand to wipe them away, you tried to blink and stare at the ceiling until your eyes dried out and stung but it was already too late and besides, Alfie was determined that you were going to cry. You needed to cry, even if you didn't seem to realise that yet he knew it.

"S'alright my little ziskeit, go on poppet have a big old cry yeah, never mind tryin to be brave ziskeit, papa don't want you to be brave now alright..." He murmured stroking your cheek with his thumb and pressing a lingering kiss to your forhead.

He closed his eyes as he bowed his head to yours and wrapped his arms around you tightly. He could feel you shaking as you tried to control your sobbing, he could tell you were still trying to hold back.

"Don't do that my little love," he warned tenderly stroking your hair, cradling your head in the palm of his hair, "remember who knows best yeah ziskeit, me yeah, your Alfie... An I'm tellin you not to be brave yeah... World's had enough of brave now alright, needs a little gentleness yeah, a little feeling right... Now I've got you ain't I, it's just you an me, you an your Alfie... You don't have to be brave for me little ziskeit, you don't have to be brave for me..."

And as he spoke you felt it all finally catching up to you, all the adrenaline of the evening hitting you like a freight train. Leaving you shaking and distraught, barely able to hold yourself up, your legs trembling as you shook and collapsed against Alfie's chest, your knees buckling so that he had to catch you and scoop you up into a steadier hold.

"Oh my little ziskeit," he sighed, his heart aching for you and all the sorrow and fear he could hear in your sobbing. You'd broken down just like a little girl, lost control of your emotions completely and though he knew it was good for you to get it all out, he wished you didn't have to. Wished he could snap his fingers and make all that pain go away.

He was supposed to be your great protector and yet he hadn't been able to protect you from all this.

He let out a sigh and let his own knees give in sinking slowly to the floor with you in his arms, leaning against the wall and relaxing his legs out in front of him.

"There there my darlin, there there my little ziskeit, 'salright poppet I've got you yeah, you're safe with me little ziskeit, ain't gonna let a soul hurt you ever again..." he murmured to you kissing your temple and bundling you up into his arms so that he could cradle you in his lap.

He felt your body shaking with convulsive sorrow and rested one hand in your hair. He knew that all there was to do was wait it out, wait there with you stroking your hair whilst you cried yourself into exhaustion.

"Why are people always so fuckin cruel Alfie, why are men so fucking cruel..." You sobbed, your voice anguished and shrill and breaking his heart as he stroked his fingers across your cheek and shushed you gently.

"I know ziskeit," he said swallowing a lump in his throat, feeling that familiar cold determination grio him, his mind already beginning to turn to plans of revenge. The things he was going to do to make those evil bastards regret causing you this pain. "This time tomorrow though my darlin, this time tomorrow the world will be down two fuckin cruel men though yeah, promise you that my poppet..." he said pushing a lock of hair from your face, looking down at your tear stained cheeks with such tenderness as you tried to speak again, working yourself up into even more of a state.

"But... But even if you kill them there'll still be... M...more.." you sobbed trying to swat his hand away when he cupped your cheek in his palm and pushed his thumb to your lips gently.

"Hush now ziskeit, shh," he hummed pushing his thumb between your lips, ignoring your hand on his wrist which tried to argue back. He waited patiently until he felt your mouth close around his thumb, until he felt your tongue brush over him and you began to suck. "There we are poppet," he said with a soft smile, watching your eyes flutter shut, your lashes heavy and dewy with tears. "That's better ziskeit, settle down yeah, don't you worry about anymore of them cruel bastards now, you don't need to worry about any of them no more, I'm here now ziskeit and I ain't gonna let no one touch you no more, not a soul... Only hands you're ever gonna feel on you again yeah, the only fuckin hands ever gonna touch this angelic little face right, are these two hands right here... You're mine my little ziskeit, all mine yeah... An am gonna look after you right... Gonna start by puttin them two sorry cunts in the ground..."

You opened your eyes then, lying with your head in his lap, looking up at him with teary doe eyes. He looked down at you, let you drag your lips over and away from his thumb for long enough to ask one more question.

"Promise?"

Your voice was but a sweet little whisper. Your lips hovering by the tip of this thumb and he cupped your cheek in his palm and let you nuzzle into the heart of his hand.

"Promise."

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[solomons-finest-rum]

Welcome back! I have been enjoying your writing but never sent you request before. Would you write maybe Alfie and a younger reader and he likes her. He wants to marry her but she is not ready so he tells her he would wait forever and it's really sweet and patient. something like that I don't know. you can decide if you like it. Thank you!

“Libretto” — (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader)

SUMMARY — Age difference between you be damned, Alfie was quite happy to wait for you forever.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you so much for the request! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ Feedback is always much appreciated.

WORD COUNT — 1,678

Masterlist

The first time you met Alfie Solomons was purely an accident. At least, you had to lie and swear to the police that it had all been an accident, if only in order to wriggle yourself out of getting arrested.

Now, had you known the man you nearly ran over with your brother’s car was the gangster boss of Camden Town, you could have been persuaded to drive a little more carefully. Especially since the car had been “borrowed” as well.

But, of course, how could you have known? Which was precisely the reason why the first words you uttered to the man were:

“Watch where you’re fucking going!” 

All due credit to Alfie Solomons, he couldn’t have been more shocked.

Now, you have to understand that a man like Alfie Solomons, a particularly dangerous man like Alfie Solomons, usually wasn’t shocked by much. It was not every day, however, that he met a girl with eyes so full of rage, driving a fancy Bentley so obviously outrageous and most likely stolen. It was more than enough to get his interest.

“Well?!” you shouted again as you got out of the car. 

It wasn’t until two police officers approached you, however, that you changed your tune. Immediately spotting your confusion, it was time for Alfie to enter the game.

“Alright, Mr. Solomons?” one of the policemen asked, feigning concern, though both of them were so obviously in Alfie’s pocket that they would have arrested you on the spot—had Alfie still not been so mesmerised by your outburst. And so, to your astonishment, they simply awaited his orders.

To Alfie’s absolute delight, you tried your best not to show how scared you were at that moment, so Alfie took his sweet fucking time before saying:

“Right, gentlemen, thank God you’re here, ‘cause there I was, mindin’ me own business, yeah, an’ there she comes, driving like the Devil’s on her tail, hair a mess—!”

“I beg your pardon, my hair is not a mess!”

“Right now it is, yeah.”

“No, it is not!”

“Are ya suggestin’ I should lie about what I saw, Miss?”

“So you… want us to arrest the lady, sir?” one of the policemen interrupted that exchange, incredulous at the interaction between you and Alfie. 

It served Alfie right, however, since his reputation had always been one to take care of the women in his community. As things were between him and the law, that charity probably remained the only thing between him and the noose.

“Nah, ‘course not,” Alfie waved his hand dismissively. “She’s clearly in a hurry, ain’t ya, luv?” Alfie asked you, with a smirk so devious you felt your cheeks going hot.

“Yes,” you said meekly, then saw Alfie make a face to encourage you to keep going. To spin the tale. 

“I… You see, it’s my grandmother,” you said smoothly and Alfie’s smirk only grew. “That’s my brother’s car, he let me borrow it to fetch the doctor. It’s consumption, you see. Overtakin’ her as we speak.”

As the cherry on top, you stifled a fake sniff.

“Now you see, gentlemen, it’s a case of utmost emergency!” Alfie shouted, waving his cane about and obviously taking great pleasure in participating in your lie. “Thank you for your service, lads, there ya go.” 

As the policemen gladly accepted a not-so-discreet bonus to their payment, you saw your chance and started to get back to the car.

But you thoroughly underestimated Alfie’s game.

“There now, I’ll drive ya, luv, you can never be too careful in these parts,” he said and quickly, quicker than you anticipated for the man, he made himself comfortable in the driver’s seat.

“Wouldn’t want any more accidents on the way, now would we, luv?” Alfie grumbled as he promptly handed you his cane and proceeded to fumble with the breaks and the accelerator as if he was trying to tame the car, not run it.

“There we go,” he announced as the engine sputtered and roared and you two sped along the street in a no less reckless manner than you had been driving before.

“Watch out!” you shrieked as Alfie almost drove straight into a flower cart on the corner.

“Don’t worry, luv, I know the way!” Alfie replied, then made a sharp turn towards London Bridge.

“You do?!”

“Right, not exactly, no, but it’s plain as day you’re not from Camden, luv.”

“What gave it away…” you sniped. 

“Now, don’t get cocky, right, ya still almost ran me over an’ I have to tell ya, luv, that takes balls, right! ‘Cause as things stand, the bounty for me is as high as they go.”

You paled at the notion and when Alfie glanced at your expression in between the turns, he roared with laughter.

“Naaah, luv, don’t be like that! Just pullin’ your leg.”

“Very funny.”

“I like to think so, yeah.”

Obviously too pleased with himself to notice, Alfie missed you paying close attention to the cane you were still holding. It was definitely heavy and so well-used that you had trouble distinguishing what used to be the shape of its head.

“Right, seein’ as you almost ended me on my own bloody street, luv, you might as well give me your name,” Alfie interrupted your musings, not too pleased about your close inspection of his personal belongings (even though the contradicting bastard gave it to you for self-keeping himself).

But you gave him your name regardless and he remarked he thought it pretty. When you also gave him your address, he drove you straight home and even got out first to open the door for you. You thanked him quickly for what you supposed was straight up hijacking the car, but seeing as you had done so first to your brother, you thought the deeds even. You only prayed no one would see you with Alfie through the window. You knew your sisters would never let you forget it had they seen you two together.

You couldn’t have known that wouldn’t be the last time you saw Alfie Solomons. Somehow throughout the following weeks you seemed to have more chance encounters together than the Fates could possibly allow.

He was always pleasant about it, though, and sometimes even brought you flowers. Then he started buying you lunches and somehow it turned into a little tradition just between you two. You ate lunch together every Thursday.

You weren’t stupid of course, you knew what Alfie was after, but truth be told… You wouldn’t exactly mind giving it to him.

He never outright proposed, but he hinted at marriage enough times that it became just one more piece of the regular fun little puzzle between you.

“An’ how’s my favourite girl this mornin’?” he would ask you when he met you for a stroll.

“Very well, thank you, Alfie,” you’d reply, your tone thoroughly overdone on the casual side. 

“Not too cold?”

“No.”

“Not too hungry?”

“Don’t think so.”

“So how ‘bout you marry me today, luv?”

“Oh, I can’t, Alfie!” you giggled as you looped your arm through his and let him lead you around the park. “I’m—”

“Right, let me guess,” he smirked. “Got my shirt inside out again?”

“No, the shirt is very clean today. That’s very unlike you.”

“Well, that’s a first.”

“Well, I told you not to fire your housekeeper, haven’t I?” 

“Yeah, no harm done, I offered that old bat her bloody job back,” he grumbled and you giggled again.

“You’ll thank me later, Alfie.”

“I’m sure I won’t, luv.”

“You’re one stubborn man, d’you know that?”

“Yeah, can’t say I’ve never been told that one before.”

“So why can’t I marry you today, Alfie? You promised to guess.”

“Right, how’s about you’re too cold?”

“No, the weather’s quite nice.”

“Too hot?”

“Not really.”

“Too old?”

“Close.”

“Too young?”

You paused and so did he, because he somehow sensed this time it wasn’t just a game between you two. This time it wasn’t just banter; it was real.

“Luv, if I’m makin’ you do anythin’ you wouldn’t want to—”

“No!” you interrupted that train of thought as quickly as possible and took his hand in yours. “No. It’s just that… I don’t think I’m ready to be a wife, yet.”

“Right, in what way?”

“In… In every way, I suppose. I have no idea about running a household or ironing shirts or…”

“Right, thankfully yours truly has already been told he’s a slob.”

“Alfie, this is serious!”

“Right.”

He looked at you expectantly. You still haven’t let go of his hand, which he thought was rather promising.

“I just think I’d make a lousy wife, Alfie.”

“Yeah, that’s that then, luv, right, ‘cause look at the pair of us, I’d be a real lousy husband.”

That got him another giggle out of you, which he thought might have boosted his chances a little.

“Luv, if your parents don’t approve—”

“My parents don’t give two shits, Alfie, I’m not a princess or an heiress,” you chuckled. “I have two younger sisters and two brothers, as far as my chances stand I’d be happy if I scored a baker or some sort.”

“Right, funny you should say that…”

“A front doesn’t count, you madman!”

Even though you knew you crossed a line there by the way he looked around you two, he never did anything to chastise you or show his disapproval at the revelation you just uttered at full volume. In a way, it already told you everything there was to know about the man, had his previous behaviour not been proof enough that he cared about you a great deal.

You already knew you wanted to marry him, age difference between you be damned. So what were you so afraid of exactly?

“Luv, you already know I’m happy to wait for you forever if—”

You shook your head and got on your tiptoes to kiss him mid-speech, since you already knew that a speech was coming. The answer was, with Alfie by your side, you wouldn’t be afraid of anything.