#modern alfie solomons fanfic

[auroracalisto]

day #20: bonfires

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

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

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

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

Simple and effective.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Not One of Many Masterlist

Series’ cast of characters (Face claims)

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight & Epilogue

[spitonmymind]

Moodboard (new WIP):

The Cottage

Tommy watched him, always did, everytime he could. Everytime those eyes weren't on him, measuring him, making him wonder if Alfie knew. Those eyes, pretty, and pretty dangerous, one could see and sense without Alfie opening his mouth once. His eyes spoke, and still they were silent. They made Tommy shiver, think - and obey. No one ever could have made Tommy eat a fucking rabbit before, he hated meat, he had been vegetarian for years.

Until Alfie came and made him eat all that. "To live, y'know, you're all skin and bones, honey."

He wasn't, well, in his head he wasn't. Alfie had a different opinion on that. As always. Still, Tommy's throat burned from the sensation of fresh meat, of flesh, of eyes flashing. Two men alone in the woods, in the middle of nowhere and still in the center of the world - Tommy couldn't have written it better, if it wasn't for those damn eyes.

Alfie watched, just like him, but the intention behind it was so different that Tommy wasn't able to read even a bit out of it.

[evita-shelby]

The Wandering

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

this is only a preview

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ryuzakemo128]

Lazy Sunday

Genre: Wholesome vibes only

Potential Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Red (Female Reader)

Rating: Suitable from ages 16+

Summary: Red spends time with her friends, Alfie, Thomas and Aberama.

Author's Note: Modern version of the show Peaky Blinders. If you want more of this type of style let me know. Message me if you want to. I don't mind.

Masterlist: Link

The night before Red and her friends went out drinking for a few hours, Red outdrank Thomas and he stayed over for the night, sleeping on Red's couch. Alfie headed home and Aberama called Polly to pick him up. Instead of trying to drive home. What ended up waking Thomas and Red up that morning is Alfie knocking on the front door.

"Oh, calm down Alfie." Red mumbled as she went to her front door of her cottage. Red groggily shuffled to the door, her eyes half-closed and her hair tousled from sleep. It was a lazy Sunday morning, "Why you so loud in the morning?"

Red opened the door to find a disheveled Alfie Solomons standing there, his usual confident demeanor slightly faded. His usually slicked-back hair was now unkempt, and he had a slight hangover from the previous night's escapades.

Alfie let out a sigh of relief upon seeing Red. "Red, thank God you're awake. I need your help, love. I had a bit too much to drink last night and ended up misplacing my keys. I've been knocking on doors for half an hour, and I'm getting strange looks from the neighbors."

Red couldn't help but chuckle at Alfie's predicament. "Well, you do know how to make an entrance, don't you? Come on in, Alfie." She stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter her cottage.

Alfie stepped inside, looking around with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. Red's cottage had a cozy and inviting atmosphere, with warm colors, rustic furniture, and the faint scent of herbs lingering in the air.

As Alfie made himself comfortable on the couch, Red went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and a couple of painkillers. She handed them to him, a sympathetic smile on her face. "Here, this should help with the hangover. You're lucky I keep these around."

Alfie gratefully accepted the water and painkillers, swallowing them down with a grateful nod. "Cheers, Red. You're a lifesaver, you know that?"

Red also brought his keys, "You left them here, after Aberama took us out drinking in his car."

Alfie let out a sheepish chuckle, taking the keys from Red. "Well, that explains it. Must've slipped my mind after the drinks. Thank you, Red. I owe you one."

Red waved it off with a smile. "No need to worry about it, Alfie. We all have our forgetful moments, especially after a night like that. Besides, it gave you a reason to visit me on this lazy Sunday morning."

Thomas, who had been woken up by the commotion, entered the room with a groggy expression. He rubbed his eyes and looked at Alfie with a mix of surprise and amusement. "Alfie, what are you doing here? And why are you looking like a drowned rat?"

Alfie chuckled, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Seems I misplaced my keys last night and had to pay Red a visit to retrieve them. And let me tell you, Thomas, she's been an absolute gem of help. But I think we both owe her a massive apology for the noise and disturbance."

Thomas blinked, taking a moment to process the information. He glanced at Red, a grateful smile forming on his lips. "Red, thank you for helping Alfie out. And I'm sorry if we caused any inconvenience."

"You're my friends, I don't plan on sharing any time soon. Bother me as much as you like. It's fine." Red replied. "It's always fun with you guys."

Alfie nodded in agreement. "Red's right. We're lucky to have you, love. And I promise we'll make it up to you somehow."

"You can let me make you a traditional Russian breakfast," Red replied. With that Red made Alfie and Thomas a traditional Russian breakfast all three of them.

[cillianscrybaby]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She can talk.", Tommy says bluntly.

Author sends a sideways glance, "Oh?"

Tommy nods, content.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You point him towards the office, walking away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arthur was silent.

Alfie staring back.

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

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

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

[zablife]

Alfie's Bedtime Stories

Alfie x gf reader

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

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

Warnings: pandemic theme, language

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tag list:

@cillmequick

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@tommydoesntpayforsuits

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@wandawiccan60   

@easilyobessedbutflighty

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@peakyrogers

@christinasyellowflowers

@retromafia

@notyour-valentine

@theshelbyclan

@solomons-finest-rum

@vir-tual

[jackson--t]

Snippet

"Broken Skull" - someday soon.

"'s'it your head again, yeah?" Alfie murmured, his fingers clasped tightly around the bottle of wine. Tommy cast a quick sideways glance at those fingers, broad and strong, rough. He wondered what they would feel like.

"Yeah." he said softly, taking a harder drag on his cigarette.

His head, always his head. He hadn't been able to get straight since the accident, didn't know anything, anything at all - just his name. Tommy. It was all he had left, and a fine scar on his forehead from the fall.

Alfie exhaled softly, settling down next to Tommy, and it grew warmer, the wind no longer so cold against Tommy's body.

"You'll be all right, your head. Amnesia's never easy, my grandpa had it once. Took a few months," Alfie said, and Tommy, his gaze slightly askew at Alfie, nodded and blew the smoke from his cigarette into the cool night air. Alfie smelled of fresh laundry, fresh linen.

"Some things never come back. And I don't remember anything."

The wine bottle in Alfie's hand swayed slightly, and Alfie groaned softly, pressing the bottle lightly against Tommy's upper arm.

"Here, drink. 't helps."

"Does it?" Tommy snarled, accepting the bottle.

Alfie looked at him, with a light smile, then nodded. "Yeah."

[darklydeliciousdesires]

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

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

Words - 7,478

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Hanukkah-Mas, everyone! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuckin’ lies!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Alfie,” she warned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s it!” 

Some things never changed.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mimi had taught her well.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s kicking me, dad!” 

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

“But dad!” 

“Enough, my son!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How things had changed, and all for the better. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh!”  

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

“Got time for a quickie?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, how she did.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alfie never would either. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That went for all five of them. 

The End.  

[dini73]

Bathtub Nonsense Part I - Heahmund & Ivar

Today I was all of a sudden captured by the idea of two loving people caressing each other in the bathtub. And then I thought further and decided it will be a short series with one chapter for each of my beloved fandoms. The title sounds more fun than chapter I is, but reflects the fun I had talking about it with @jackson--t and daydreaming. Chapter II will belong to Tommy & Alfie from Peaky Blinders, chapter III to Marty & Rust from True Detectives. Feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged. Comments always highly appreciated.

Part I

Ivar felt Heahmund's cautious question more than hearing it over the pulsation of his heart and the shallow pearling of the water.

A gentle tickle, right on his temple, followed by a tender kiss.

“Better?”

He wanted to answer, but his senses were enveloped in the delicate orange / patchouli scent, and the grounding sensation of their wet, smooth bodies nestling together. Ivar surrendered entirely to the scent, the warm water, and the gently stroking movements of Heahmund’s sponge which caressed his arm repeatedly.

There it was again, the barely noticeable tickling, accompanied by a sonorous vibration from Heahmund's chest on his back:

“Love?”

And this time Ivar even opened his mouth. Answer, he thought, answer, his chest rose and sank, his lips began to tremble, I want to baby, I want to answer you, I want to tell you I am feeling better now. His wet hands clang to the cold porcelain of the bathtub, his chest rose and fell faster and faster. And then Heahmund shifted behind him, and strong arms tried to stop Ivar from spiralling further.

“Shhh, shhh I’m here, I’ve got you.”

But the trembling had moved from his lips to his whole body shaking his useless legs before they cramped.

“Ivar, you are safe.” And the strong arms pressed more; they held him together, preventing him to just crumble and fly away in billions of little, useless pieces.

“Breathe, baby, please calm down. Breath, I’ve got you, baby.”

And then a croaked, feeble

“Useless”

finally escaped his sore throat.

“No, no, no honey.”

Ivar’s head weakly fell back onto Heahmund’s shoulder and now they were rocking. Back and forth, back and forth. Yeah, that was good. Don’t stop, please don’t stop. Hold me.

“Listen to me!” the voice was louder now, and somewhat strict. Don’t yell, just please don’t yell. I am sorry. I am so sorry!

“Ivar, listen to me. You are not useless!”

But how could he not be? The tears were running down his cheeks, over is lover’s hands and arms before they dripped into their beautiful foamy bath. How on earth had he gotten a lover? Why was he spoiled with a foamy bath? Why would anyone waste his time with him?

“Ivar. Ivar, baby, I love you. I love you, baby. And I’ve got you. Okay? You feel that? I am holding you. I’ll never let you be alone. I am here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. Shhhhhhh.”

And it worked.

It always worked.

Suddenly it was as if Ivar felt solid ground beneath him again, the whirling and the storm had stopped, the clouds above his heart and mind cleared up. And he breathed and sobbed and laughed all together.

“Oh fuck” his legs were still trembling a bit, but Heahmund leaned them both a bit further down, let one arm glide slowly down and stroked them.

He was allowed to do that.

There was nothing better to soothe Ivar’s legs than one of Haehmund’s underwater massages. Jesus he was such a blessing. Ivar’s very personal rough knight with the hands of an angel.

Heahmund gently pressed a bit with his thumbs while massaging circles at Ivar’s lower leg; his body’s movements producing funny, good smelling waves.

“Yeah, fuck” Heahmund looked up at Ivar with wide shining eyes. He shifted again and his arm swooshed out of the water, both his hands now cupping Iva’s slightly red face. An angelic young face, covered in tears and snot and shame.

“Where did that come from hmm?”

Ivar’s face heated up even more and he looked down, concentrating on the silver shining foam bubbles.

But Heahmund lifted his chin and started to stroke his burning cheek.

“There is no need to be embarrassed.”

“But..”

“No. Simply, no Ivar.” Heahmund shook his head before carefully leaning their foreheads together.

“Just let me know who caused this panic attack and I will kill them.”

Which made them both snort while some tears were still running over both their cheeks.

Ivar leaned in for a sloppy kiss.

“That your way of not talking about it, hm?” Heahmund scolded teasingly and reached over to the faucet, re starting the water.

Then he pulled Ivar back with him to settle again between his legs. Heahmund dipped the sponge in the water and gently stroked Ivar’s stomach with circular movements.

The young man finally relaxed. His breath deepened and slowed down and he was enjoying it again, how he was looked after. Leaning into his lover’s strong body, Ivar couldn’t believe his luck. And before he realized the trembling in his fingers himself, Heahmund was already kneading them.

“Heahmund…”

“Hmmm?”

“Uhm babe?”

“What, sweetheart” the older one asked, not really innocently and the smile on his lips was not the only thing Ivar could literally feel.

“Heahmund, babe, really?”

Something shifted and pressed harder against Ivar’s butt.

“Asked the guy who had just given me nearly a heart attack. Excuse my old body for loving this treat between his thighs.”

“Fuck” Ivar laughed and tried to turn towards Heahmund.

“Ah, ah, ah don’t move, honey.”

“Okay….” Ivar obeyed and enjoyed wiggling his ass cheeks a bit, a huge smile now on his pillowy lips.

Heahmund embraced him once more. Only know his arms were a belt radiating nothing but love. Protectiveness too, yeah, but fuelled with pure love. No lifebelt anymore.

Ivar wiggled a bit again, provoking a content groan from the back.

“Heahmund?” he leaned back to his lover’s shoulder. Not weakly now but really pleased.

“Hmmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Ivar”.

Please read Part II (Peaky Blinders; Tommy x Alfie) here

@jackson--t @whatsmyline-pb @mintjamsblog

[evita-shelby]

We didn't start the fire

Jack and Katie Nelson end up meeting Rose and Samuel Coldwell after getting arrested for the same crime in the same neighborhood

rose and sam belong to @justrainandcoffee

cw: drinking, drunk people, arson, absent dad, arrests

When Jack and Katie decided to track down his father, whom not even his elder half-brother knew, they didn’t think they’d end up in London.

Eva had come on business and while she did what she came here for, Jack had called Katie, who was visiting Colin’s family here, and went pub crawling for old time’s sake.

He should’ve known it was a bad idea when, despite being busy with vlogging everything they did, his sister managed to find his dad’s address. Katie was white girl wasted by now and Jack had reached that point of fuck it we ball moment of the night.

Jack had gotten a bottle of Bushmills Whiskey for the road somehow remembering that was his dad’s favorite drink when Eamon O’Neil met Rosemary Nelson during graduate school.

When they found the nice house empty and showing signs of a happy upper middle-class family it brought up all those times his mother struggled to raise him and his sister and all those times he could’ve used a fucking dad.

“Fuck him! Fuck that guy, you don’t need him, Jack. You hear me!” Katie pulls him down to her height as she assures him that his father doesn’t deserve to even know him.

And suddenly the ribbon in Katie’s blonde hair is shoved half ways into the bottle they were sharing at the curb and the lighter he kept from that day he met Eva in Vegas is in his hand.

The Instagram video has him tossing a Molotov cocktail prefaced with the words, “Fuck you!”. An iconic moment followed by him angrily ranting at the security camera closest to him about how Eamon O’Neil was a piece of shit who abandoned two pregnant women in Boston during his time at MIT.

In the same neighborhood, Rose and her brother had done the same to the house of Samuel Coldwell.

They are put in the same cell and nature takes its course.

Katie leads the way, always the funny charming one who knows how not to step on people’s toes while Jack has the subtlety of Godzilla trampling Tokyo. But with a few drinks in, a shared hatred of their absent fathers and being in here for the same crime two Irish Catholics and two English Jews become unlikely friends.

“Yeah, Jack can make molotov cocktails because he w---” Jack using his sister’s drunk state and his greater height to successfully put his hand over her mouth to prevent her revealing where his skills came from.

“Huge fan of the Good Place.” He says with a laugh that works good enough for the two women who end up changing the topic while Sam Coldwell silently agrees to keep his secret.

He’d been in a gang until he got too good at it and pissed off the leader causing him to end up in fucking Melbourne, Australia to avoid prison. Luckily there had been no proof and Jack was able to return with a masters in finance and a short but lucrative career as a webcam model.

Now he had graduated from Harvard Business College, gotten the investment firm off the ground to great success and would marry the love of his life if she could just get here to bail them out.

“Do you guys need any help getting bailed out, my girl says she doesn’t mind.” He offers after the phone call goes well enough.

“My brother-in-law is already coming, thanks for the offer.” Sam rejects the offer, and both guide their sisters ---who are tearfully bidding each other farewell and exchanging numbers as jumbled as they come out their mouths--- out of their cells.

Jack finds Eva chatting amicably with what he presumed is Rose’s husband and greets his future wife with a short kiss and threw his arm over her shoulder before asking, “How do you guys know each other?”

“We fucked the same guy.” Evie answered far too casually as she led them out the station and into Colin’s car.

[ryuzakemo128]

Four Horsemen

Chapter Four: The Mystery of Love, Life and Everything in between.

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Red (Female Reader)

Genre: Modern, sci-fi, fantasy, fluff, mystery

Masterlist: Link

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Chapter Summary: Alfie can't stop thinking about Red, something about her is alluring and enchanting every moment he thinks about her. He couldn't exactly explain why.

(Alfie Solomon's Point of View)

I walked the lively streets of London, my thoughts consumed by Red. There was something undeniably captivating about her that drew me in, an enchantment that defied explanation.

Red's past as a former FSB operative only deepened her allure. The secrets she held and the shadows she had traversed fascinated me. As a Jewish man, I understood the complexities of identity and the weight of hidden truths. Red, however, possessed a strength and resilience that left me in awe.

Since our unexpected encounter, thoughts of her consumed my mind. But the divide between us seemed insurmountable. How could a Jewish man from England and a Heathen woman from Russia bridge the chasm that separated us?

Love, they say, transcends boundaries. It thrives on the differences that exist between two souls. The intricacies of our backgrounds only intensified the fiery connection we shared. There was a chemistry, an irresistible force pulling us together with every interaction. It felt as though destiny itself had conspired to bring us closer, defying the odds stacked against us.

Driven by a yearning to understand, I reached out to my contacts, seeking information about Red. I was eager to delve deeper into the woman who held my heart captive, to unravel the layers of her existence and fathom the depths of her soul. Exploring this connection demanded courage and a willingness to embrace the unknown. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with obstacles and hidden dangers. Yet, the allure of love and the desire to uncover the mysteries within Red's being were too potent to resist.

As I delved into my investigation, I couldn't help but ponder the secrets that awaited me. What had Red experienced during her time as an FSB operative? How had she navigated the treacherous world of shadows and intrigue? The answers lay concealed, waiting to be unearthed.

With every passing moment, my longing for Red intensified. I yearned to unravel the enigma she embodied, to comprehend the intricacies that shaped her essence. The more I searched for more information about her past, the less information I found and the more mysterious she became. Red is a puzzle, a puzzle seemingly unsolvable, a riddle left unanswered. Teasing me with its ever elusive answers kept under lock and key.

I was undeterred. Love has a way of defying reason and conquering obstacles. The quest to understand Red and the connection between us would not be easy, but it was a journey worth taking. For within the mystery lay the potential for a love that transcended boundaries and a bond that defied the odds. And so, I embraced the enigma of Red, ready to unlock the secrets that lay hidden within her, and discover the truth that awaited us both.

[peakywitch]

If this is not Modern John Shelby, then what is it? The hair, the look, the face THE EVERYTHING

[womanpodcast]

Alfie Solomons| Tom Hardy by JPW

[jackson--t]

Half of a heart

Chapter 5: If I had a voice.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Have you missed them, guys? Well, you don't have to any longer. Beth and Alfie are returning for a one-off special coming soon! Tagging the original Not One of Many gang - @potter-solomons @dreamlandcreations @youflickedtooharddamnit @omgeternal @tomhardyspinkyfinger @babaohhhriley @cillmequick @piscesgyalinit @confessionbrain @bitter-post-millennial @liliac-dreamer @zablife (not sure if you read the original, if you didn't and want to, masterlist is here, but no pressure!) @creator-appreciator @buttercupsandboys @mollybegger-blog