#thank you cyril for helping me

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also "textless" versions of these, wahooo

[ikuzeminna]

I need your help with a hypothesis!

For context: My linguistics professor and I got into a discussion after a test she did with us, and I was of the opinion that the reason for the results was different from the one she offered, so she encouraged me to test my theory.

What I need

All you need to do is draw a coffee cup (with a handle, not the disposable stuff) and then answer three questions.

I don't need to see the coffee cup. You can draw it wherever you like; on a piece of paper, digitally, in the sand, on a foggy window. Anything works. It does not have to be good. A doodle is fine.

You have to draw the coffee cup before you see the questions. This is very important. If you decide to help me with this, please doodle the coffee cup before you keep reading.

Assuming you have drawn the coffee cup, I now need you to answer these three questions:

On which side did you draw the handle?

Are you right-handed or left-handed?

Do you primarily write using the Latin alphabet or a different one? (please specify which)

More context

Most people will draw the handle on the right side. My professor says it's because most people are right-handed, so they draw the handle in the direction that would be comfortable for them to pick up.

I said drawing it on the right side just felt more comfortable to my hand and argued it's probably because we write a bunch of letters like that. B, b, D, P, p, R all look like a tiny "handle on the right side" and are all a straight line followed by a round one (so "cup first, handle second," like most people draw cups). The Latin alphabet doesn't have letters like that that face the other way, except maybe d, depending on how you write it, so it makes sense to me that people writing mostly Latin letters would go with the handle on the right side.

Which means that I need to know what Asians, Arabs and Greeks do and if the distribution of left and right sides of handles differs from the Latin alphabet group. Cyrillic seems to favor right, too, though it'd be interesting to see if there are differences.

If there are, my theory is right. Doubly so if there is a sizeable increase in a group whose alphabet has letters that benefit the left side choice.

So feel free to spread this to as many people as you like and put the answers in the comments or the tags of a reblog. The more answers I get, the better I can assess whose theory is better.

Thank you for your help!

[dyns33]

Family's fever

I have so many, sooo many, Alfie and his wife stories waiting to be posted.

It was only pain.

For a moment, Alfie wondered if he had died and gone to hell, where his body burned and caused him a martyrdom such as he had never known.

The first time was during the war. Between the trenches, the bombs, the fighting, it had completely destroyed his back, and it had never healed. As if he had stayed there. Maybe it would have been better.

A panting breath was heard on his right, but fatigue was stronger than his survival instinct. So Alfie remained motionless, waiting for the intruder to strike.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed, until a light made him wince, immediately soothed by a cold, damp cloth placed on his forehead and eyes.

"My poor darling, you are even hotter than yesterday."

The soft voice and the hand caressing his cheek almost made him forget the torture he had been living for several hours, at least enough for him to find the strength to move his eyelids enough to see what was around him.

First, he discovered that the danger blowing was a dog, which barked happily at seeing him awake, resting its big head on his hand.

The animal seemed familiar, like the room, but Alfie's foggy mind forgot his questions when he laid his eyes on the woman who was now sponging his sweaty neck.

"… I'm dead."

"Not yet, Alfie. But if this continues I'll call the doctor, no matter what you say."

"Doctors are quacks."

"Like you've been telling me since you caught that cold. And yet you did send one to my house when I was sick."

"I couldn't leave such a beautiful angel to die."

"Ah, maybe you're feeling a little better, you're talking nonsense again." she joked, massaging his shoulder.

However, Alfie wasn't joking, and he didn't understand why his angelic vision didn't take him seriously. He was very serious.

Never in his entire life had he seen such a beautiful woman. If he could have gotten up without crying out in pain, he would have taken her hand to kiss it reverently, before apologizing for having the impudence to touch her without permission.

Maybe she wasn't entirely wrong about his fever, because he laughed, repeating that he really was saying ridiculous things.

Obviously he was mumbling his thoughts without even realizing it. Or maybe it was madness. Alfie had always been a bit crazy, and being stuck with his brigade in the middle of the bombs hadn't helped matters.

His mind was still lucid enough to see the wedding ring on his angel's hand, though, and to know what it meant. Of course, such a woman was married. All the men had to grovel at her feet, begging her to be their wife, and one of them had been given the privilege of being chosen.

"Lucky bastard."

"If I make some soup, will you try to eat it ?"

"Anything for you, видение рая."

"Good. Thanks for finally being reasonable."

"I'll need strength to question your husband." he sighed, patting the dog on the head as it came closer to lick his face.

"…Excuse me ?"

"I wouldn't kill him, I wouldn't want to hurt your tender heart, but I have to check that he deserves you. And if he's not worthy, I should train him until he is."

"… Okay, I'll call the doctor. Cyril, stay here."

Obeying his mistress, the dog guarded the sick man despite his protests and pleas. Alfie would have liked her to stay by his side a little longer. There was no hope that he would see her again.

He frowned when a small man in his lab coat entered the room, putting his briefcase on a table and asking him a lot of questions. Damn doctor.

The man only got his attention when he turned to the angel and called her "Mrs. Solomons.", which made him frown even more.

Hmm.

Alfie knew only three "Mrs Solomons", his grandmother, may she rest in peace, who had always hated being called that, his poor mother who was no longer of this world either, and his sister who had long since taken the name of her stupid husband.

Even if he was not well, he could still recognize these three people, he was certain of it.

"He talked about having a discussion with my husband."

"Mr Solomons often speaks about himself in the third person… As he often speaks to himself."

"I agree, but could the fever be playing on his memory ?"

"You are me wife ?"

The sad smile she gave him as she came back to sit next to him seemed like a sufficient answer, but Alfie couldn't believe it.

Him, married to this perfect being ? Impossible, there had to be a mistake. Someone was playing a joke on him, there was no other explanation, or the devil had decided to punish him for all his sins by torturing him with a twisted scenario, mixing pain, sweetness and vain hope.

But Alfie didn't really believe in this bullshit, and he didn't see anyone suicidal enough to play such a trick on him.

"But why are you married to me, love ? Did I threaten you ? Did your father have debts ? Would I have become rich ? No, an angel like you doesn't marry an old fool like me even if he is rich."

"Maybe I fell in love." she sneered, capturing his attention enough for him to let the doctor take his pulse on his other arm.

"Ah ! I tricked you, my poor treacle ! I blinded you and made you sink into madness to have you. Damn me ! I mean, I am honored that you love me, even if using such subterfuge to have you is terrible."

"I knew exactly where I was going, don't worry. Doctor ?"

"He is simply exhausted by the fever and his back, which makes him delirious. But he will be better soon, I will write you a prescription."

Still not convinced that he could have married the one who was called Y/N, Alfie stared at her with wide eyes in silence, captivated by her every move and accepting everything she asked of him, wisely eating his soup, taking his medicine and letting her change his soaked shirt.

He thought he was going to have a heart attack when she entered the room in her nightgown, lying against him, her head on his shoulder.

"Try to sleep, okay ?"

"But if I sleep, you might disappear." he whispered like a child.

"My sweet idiot. I promise to be here tomorrow morning, sleep now."

As promised, Y/N was still there when he woke up, noticing that his fever had gone down and his memories had returned.

She gently mocked the event when he had fully recovered, and even though he claimed not to see what she was talking about, unable to not make the pout that always betrayed him whenever he tried to hide something from his wife.

Alfie was not ashamed of having been sick. He was still human. He wasn't ashamed of saying strange things either, because it wasn't a change from his usual behavior, nor of falling madly in love with Y/N ​​again, which was perfectly normal.

What he didn't like was the expression on her face when she realized he wasn't joking when he said he didn't know who she was.

"I was worried, you know."

"I know, love. Sorry."

"You really need to stop covering up all over London when it rains."

"Tell your brothers to stop making trouble all over London and I can stay in my office."

"At least this time you were a decent patient. All the other times, you were impossible to hold, refusing to stay in bed and not scare the doctor away. Do you have to take me for someone else's wife to listen to me ?"

"Of course not." he mumbled, pulling her closer. "Other times, I was only able to handle myself, you didn't need to waste your time on me."

"I never waste my time on you, Alfie."

Ah, Y/N. His sweet love. Of course he had taken her for an angel fallen from the sky. That was kind of what she was, even if it wasn't God but Thomas fucking Shelby who had put her on his path.

No doubt her brother was still as shocked as he was that she could have fallen for the idiot he was.

Even in good health, Alfie sometimes wondered how he had done it, how fate had been able to give him such a gift.

"Stop mumbling nonsense, Ollie is waiting for us outside."

"Yes, мой ангел."

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile, guessing what he had said and taking his hand to urge him to leave their house, because she knew very well that if she gave him time, he would have pulled her even further onto the couch, and they would have been very late.

[wanderingsoul6261]

Credit for gif goes to cinevettel

Title: You're Okay. We're okay.

James Beaufort x Reader

Synopsis: James and the Reader get into an argument and their relationship is rocky for a week. Then she doesn't show up for several days to school and he gets worried, before finally going to Alistair for some answers.

Warning: I think there is a few swears words? If I remember?

Also some personal reflection in this as well. I have hypothyroidism and it runs in the family. My dad had an episode with vertigo in which he had also found out he had his first episode of AFIB. This was a few years after he was diagnosed with hypothyroidism. Second episode was four years later. AFIB is often a side effect of thyroid issues. Thyroid issues can cause detrimental effects if not taken seriously. You have any issues, with anything to do with your body, please please. Get it checked out. Stay safe.

------

The current week was definitely turning out to be a tough one, especially for both James and Y/N. Y/N herself hadn't been feeling the greatest the past week, with an unknown cause nor did she have anything that had seemed to help her feel better. But the two were currently going through an argument. Albeit, she wasn't one to go out of her way to talk to Ruby, Y/N wasn't happy with the way that James was treating her. She had felt that he had been unfair towards her, especially when Ruby's actions towards him were largely warranted. 

So the two had barely talked in the last week. Whenever they did, they argued, and Y/N didn’t like it, but James had to know that his actions were wrong, and as Y/N walked through the halls of Maxton, she thought back to the argument that they had earlier that morning. 

They both rode to school together that morning, even if they weren't talking. Alistair and Elaine offered to take her to school instead. Y/N understood Alistair asking, but she was surprised by Elaine, considering Elaine liked James. Y/N had spared James a look a few times, and itched to hold his hand. But he looked pissed off, so she didn’t, and when she went to ask if he was okay, he got snappy. This had only succeeded in now pissing Y/N off for the day as well. 

“What is your problem?” She asked. Percy turned the car down the long road leading to Maxton. The college could be seen through the trees.

“My problem? My problem is Ruby Bell.” He had but growled out those words, sending a sneer out the window at the passing trees. 

“She didn’t do anything.” 

“She walked in on Lydia and Sutton.” 

“It could have been anyone!” Y/N exclaimed. “What would have happened if it was Alistair or Cyril that walked in on them?” She asked. Y/N turned in the seat To look at him, but he refused to look at her. 

“But it wasn't them!” James turned to look at her. Percy looked in the rearview at them for a lengthy amount of time before turning his eyes back to the road before them. 

“Not my point, Beaufort!” She looked incredulously at him, as if he grew an extra head. Y/N wasn't understanding him in this moment, but then again, all millionaires and their heirs worked in the same way. “You can't just go and try to buy someone like you are her!” 

“Since when have you liked Ruby Bell?” 

“I don't not like nor do I like her. I just don't like how she is being treated by you and Lydia. She isn't even talking!” 

“Doesn't mean she won't. She thinks she knows how far I'm willing to go with this, but she has another thing coming for her.” James grumbled out. “I'm only just beginning.” Y/N clenched her jaw, before turning towards the front. 

“Percy, let me out.” the courtyard of Maxton was now in sight and only a few seconds away via car, but she couldn't handle James anymore at this moment. Percy looked at her through the rearview mirror, blinked a few times and then looked at James, who went back to looking out his window. 

Percy stopped the car. 

Without saying another word to James, she climbed out of the car. 

“Thank you, Percy.” 

Y/N had thought about it all consistently throughout the day. It had made some moments of studying and paying attention in classes difficult, but she had managed till the end of the day, and she was relieved. Y/N was ready to go home and relax. 

However, once Y/N had arrived home, she suddenly felt a ringing in her ears. Y/N felt nauseous, taking a few deep breaths to try and settle her stomach as everything seemed to hit her at once. She struggled to get out of the car, and the moment she was finally standing, she fell. 

The world was chaotic. Her vision was blurred and she was sensitive to all light and noise. Her chauffeur had come around the car to her, shouting for anyone inside the building to come and assist him. The crunching of his shoes against the stones of the driveway caused her face to scrunch up, and the yelling made her want to puncture her eardrums until she became deaf. 

A few more people knelt down around her, and she tried to keep her eyes open to see who it was, but the world was spinning. It was fast and quick and everything hurt. Y/N closed her eyes again. Why did she feel this way? What was going on? 

Y/N was now being picked up, placed back in the car between two bodies. Their voices told her that it was her parents. She was going to be okay. 

She turned as well as she could to see Alistair and Elaine standing on the front porch of the porch, watching them leave. She’ll be home soon. 

—

Y/N hadn't been to school for several days. Alistair and Elaine had missed a few days as well, but had not talked much about what was going on. And to say that James was worried was an understatement. He was terrified, especially more so as their last conversation was an argument. 

She hasn’t been answering his texts. Alistair and Elaine hadn't said much when he first initially asked. Just that there was an accident but everything was okay. No specifics were given to him. He had been too busy with the event committee and his parents to find time to go to the Ellington’s manor to see him. Even then, visitation to Y/N had been strictly limited, it didn't matter who you were. 

James was pulling his hair out by the time the fifth day arrived of no communication from her. 

“Alistair!” James grabbed his bicep, pulling him into an empty room. “Is someone going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” 

“About what?”

“About what? Your sister! Why isn’t Y/N answering my texts? Is she okay?” He had all but demanded. “And most importantly, why can’t I see her?” He asked. Alistair stared at him for a few seconds. 

“She had an experience with vertigo the other day. She’s been experiencing it on and off the past few days. Parents took her to the hospital after she collapsed the last day she was at school. Me and Elaine were already home, as she had stayed behind to do some extra studying on school grounds.” James stared at him as he took In this information.  

“And she's okay now?” Alistair hesitated.  

“Yes and no. She'll be fine. I can promise you that. But the vertigo is still messing with her pretty badly. On top of it, she had an episode of afib that she didn't really detect. She has to be on beta blockers for a little bit with a pacemaker also for a little bit to help monitor her heart rate. It will help the doctors keep track of her heart and this event of afib.”

“Can it just be a one time thing?” He asked. 

“Depends, honestly. They said it was likely for her, but that she could also likely experience more down the road. They said it was likely brought on by her hypothyroidism.” the two went silent for several minutes as James took in the information. 

“When can I see her?” He asked. 

“I can take you today.” 

—

Hesitation was not in James' intentions when he arrived at the Ellington manor. He booked past every single person, he seen, even the owners of the home As he raced towards the stairs. 

Their parents looked back at Alistair, Elaine following slowly behind him. He gave them a small shrug. 

“No one was talking to him about what was going on, including myself. It was time someone finally gave him some answers.” 

James hurried through the house, slowing down as he neared her room. She had vertigo, which likely also meant she was sensitive to light and noise. He had to be quiet. 

He knocked softly on her door, before calling out her name. It was silent for several seconds. 

“James?” A weak sounding voice could be heard. 

“Yea. Its me, love. Can I come in?” James could barely make out her approval. He opened her door, slowly and quietly. Her room was dark. Not entirely pitch black, but still dark enough that she could open her eyes and not be bothered by it if needed. 

She could be seen laying on her bed, buried underneath the blankets. James watched as she peeked her head out, her eyes opening slightly to watch him as he walked over to her. 

“Can I crawl into the bed?” He asked. Y/N nodded, moving backwards in the bed to allow him in. 

As he proceeded towards the bed, he noticed the medication bottles on her side table. The one he knew to be her thyroid medication. The others must be from her recent hospital stay. 

“So many drugs.” Y/N softly mumbled. “a pain in my arse.” James huffed out a laugh as he climbed into her bed. She scooted back over to rest against his chest. His arms came up to wrap around her, a hand coming up to comb through her hair. James buried his nose in her hair. 

“I'm glad you’re okay.” He whispered. Keeping his voice down. “I didn’t hear from you and no one in your family wanted to tell me anything.” 

“I'm sorry. They were supposed to.” Her weak voice spoke back to him. “that wasn’t fair to you. Even if we were fighting.” his mind went back to the argument. 

“I want to apologize.” He said. “You were right. The whole time, you were right. It wasn’t right for me to treat Bell like that.” He admitted. James knew when the arguments started that Y/N was right. He was just too arrogant and hard headed to admit it. For a moment there, he had turned into his father, and he grew to resent it. 

“Did you apologize?” 

“Not yet.” He admitted. “But I have been nicer.” 

Y/N huffed out a laugh, before wincing. 

“Well, it's a start.” Y/N kept her voice quiet, barely a mumble. She almost sounded tired. 

“We’ve made some good work on the donor gala.” He admit. “We are changing it to be Victorian themed.” 

“Yea? Are you going to use your parents' collection for advertisement?” Her voice sounded still as a mumble. 

“Wasn't going to. But I think it will be good for it. I was probably going to take Bell in the coming days to take photos. I know you absolutely love the collection, so if you'd like to join us-” a soft snore broke the moment. James sat there, listening to Y/N as she slept. A small smile graced his lips. James pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, his fingers still gently combing through her hair. He used his other hand to pull the blanket to cover more of her body. After a short amount of time, James too fell asleep. 

—

Several hours have passed and the Ellington parents checked in on the two in Y/N's room. Both were fast asleep, clung to each other. 

“Should we wake them?” 

“No. They have to make up for lost time. Plus him being here will probably be better for her moral.” 

---

taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @sillyfreakfanparty

[leiswxrld]

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

pairings: russian!abby anderson x fem!reader

synopsis: your russian girlfriend abby complains about her boss everyday to you after work but today she wants to take her stress out on someone and who not better than her own girlfriend.

warnings: smut, praises (sweetheart, my love, angel), strap on usage (r receiving), abby fucking the shit out of you.

a/n: I am not Russian so if they translations are wrong I do apologise tried not to use google translate but some websites like quora or Reddit for accurate translations, also this was recommended by someone idk if this is what they meant but I hope you enjoy ❥.

this isn’t proofread so please ignore errors.

@alicespurplesquid thanks for helping me on the cyrillic letters ❥

credits: @cafekitsune @hitobaby for line dividers ❥.

You're sat in the living room watching the Netflix series 'You', feet up on the couch, snuggled up in the new blanket abby brought you with a can of dr pepper, gummy worms and popcorn.

The noise of the front door opening catches your attention but your eyes remain on the screen, hearing the keys being thrown on the kitchen counter and heavy footsteps approach behind you.

"I missed you, прин��есса" your instantly engulfed in her embrace, smelling her musky cologne oozing from her as you smile taking a second to take a look at her.

"How was work" you ask, abby opening her mouth to receive the gummy worm in your hand as you slip it into her mouth causing her to lick the excess sugar off your finger and you jokingly smack her hand at her silliness.

"Stressful my boss was up my ass about getting the new building ready for next week" abby was a construction worker and often complained to you on how much of a twat her boss was in her words, 'a fucking cunt"

"Baby I told you to complain to hr about it maybe they'd do something" you reply and she scoffs going to remove her jacket throwing it onto the other sofa before making her way to the fridge and grabbing a cold beer.

"and what so that my boss can fucking make my life even harder no thanks" she removes the bottle cap with her teeth going to plop her self next to you. "you smell good" she blurts out, pushing her head into the crack of your neck smelling the sweet birthday cake scent.

"thank you it's a new perfume I got" you reply, continuing to watch the show as abby began to assault you with kisses, "abs I can't concentrate if you keep kissing me like that"

"you just smell so fucking good, дорогая" she groans, shuddering as she continues. "I think I know where to take my stress out on" she says, pulling away from your neck as your eyes widen.

"Abby no can't it wait" you whine, you were turned on but you wanted to finish this episode before you'd do anything remotely sexual with her.

"Baby, пожалуйста" you couldn't say no especially when she begged in russian to you. "Fuck-fine abs you have 10 minutes"

She grins at you, getting ready to pick you up before you give her the hand...making her pause for a sec confused as you grab the remote and pause the show before you tell her to continue.

You yelp as she picks you up straddling you on her lap, she immediately pulls you into a heated kiss, feeling her frustration as her hands roamed your back, sides and ass as you moan. tongues entangled and your arms around her neck, she grinds into you feeling her hard bulge prod against your joggers

Abbys pick you up, walking you towards the bedroom door lips still attached to you as she kicks open the door and throws you onto the bed. "strip for me"

You take no time in removing your clothes, slipping off your joggers and top leaving you in your bra and underwear. "so fucking pretty for me" she hungrily eyes you, lust prominent in her eyes as they move up and down your body, making you feel small under her gaze.

She keeps eye contact with you removing her work trousers and the yellow luminous vest, eyes leaving hers to her black boxers that tucked away her strap. "Lay down for me, Крошка"

You lay down as abby crawls on top of you removing your underwear as she curses under her breath, "fuck" your wet, pussy glistening under the light peaking through the closed blinds.

"Do you want my strap baby" you desperately nod, watching as she pulls down her black boxers revealing her strap which hits you against the fat of your thigh, you whine gripping onto her sports bra pulling her towards you as you plead in her ear to fuck you.

she smirks, hooking her arm under your thigh pushing it till it was against your ear. "yeah tell me how badly you want it"

"fuck-please abs just fuck me" her tongue rolls across her mouth in satisfaction, tapping her strap against your wet clit before slipping into you.

You gasp, hands wrapping around Abbys neck as she puts her face into the crook of your neck. she begins to rock her hips into you, every thrust harder than the last knocking the last bit of air out of your windpipe. she grunts, bitting onto your ear and pushing the cups to your bra down fondling with your exposed tits, twisting your hardened buds making you whimper.

Your mixed moans filled the bedroom, gasps and grunts getting louder as she pounds into you. "I can feel you clenching around my strap, зайка" she groans into you ear, taking a second to look at your flustered face, rambling curses and pretty moans.

"Are you gonna cum that fast for me, малыш" she breathlessly asks, hitting your pussy at an angle whilst holding your leg up. "n-no" you squeak, gripping onto the white sheets below you.

"better fucking not you'll cum when I tell you to" she grunts, taking her time to watch how your eyes roll back unable to respond. she chuckles, pushing the falling hair outta your face to truly see how fucking beautiful you were, legs wrapped around her back as your nails dug into her back.

your hand goes to cover your face as abby slaps it, pinning your arms to your sides, "don't hide your face angel I wanna see how pretty you are when you cum for me" her words make you pulse around her, signalling you were going to cum at the speed she was fucking into you.

"a-abs please I'm going to cum" you warn, her hand reaches up to your face slapping it, "hmmm, you going to cum for me milaya, you can beg me better than that" she coos.

"Пожалуйста" you beg, tears in your eyes which pushes abby over the edge, pounding into you harder before you cum all over her strap, your juices seeping onto the white sheets below before she slows down, coming to a halt.

"fuck I think that was the best sex we've ever had" abby mutters, kissing you on the cheek before pulling out. she leaves you laying on the bed, taking her strap off seeing the visible wet spot on her black boxers as she makes her way into the bathroom.

She brings back a wet cloth, cleaning you up and whispering praises into you ear as you steady your breathing. she throws the wet cloth back into the bathroom before jumping onto the bed beside you.

"Do you want to order takeout don't think you'll be in any state to move and cook now" she offers, a smirk on her face as you finally catch onto what she meant.

You slap her on her arm, sending her a dirty look causing her to laugh, "Fuck off abby, you can order takeout but only because I'm in no mood to cook right now"

she laughs again before cuddling you, "yeah sure let me order something from your favourite food place and then after I can fuck you till you fall asleep....how does that sound, принцесса"

you roll your eyes playfully kissing her once again, "sounds fucking perfect abby"

[runnning-outof-time]

The first of a few :)

Tommy- (3 word sentence prompt) “Happy or Sad?”

Thanks for sending this in Liz! I’m sorry it took me a bit to get to writing it. This is a COMPLETE flip from the fic I shared earlier haha. Also I have to say that the bit at the end was inspired by the lovely Bri @there-goes-thefighter ‘s latest Tommy fic ‘Your Shadow Side’…it’s a bit different here, but the idea was stuck in the back of my mind nonetheless. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find other stories here!

Bedtime Stories

Tommy Shelby x Reader & Daughter

Warnings: none

Word Count: 797

Summary: Tommy gets asked a question that leaves him speechless while he’s telling his daughter a bedtime story.

“I want daddy to tell me a story tonight!” Isabella Shelby exclaimed, stamping her foot on the ground as she looked up at her mother. Her little hands were balled up into fists, and the glare on her face was one that could even rival her father’s. Wonder who she got it from?

(Y/N) sighed and looked away from her four year old daughter, at her wits end now. It had been a long day. Isabella woke up in a grumpy mood, so everything had been a fight with her. On top of that, Matthew, her two year old son, had just figured out how to get into things, so she’d been following him around the house to make sure he didn’t hurt himself or break anything.

“Dad’s busy with his work at the moment, darling,” she tried to reason with the child.

Isabella did not listen. “I’m going to go ask him,” she insisted, turning on her heel then so that she could make her way down the hall to the door of her father’s office.

(Y/N) stayed in the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest as she heard the muffled exchange between her husband and child. A look of surprise formed on her face when Isabella emerged triumphant from the office moments later with Tommy following behind her. She’s wrapped around his finger, (Y/N) thought to herself with soft laugh.

“Time for bed?” Tommy questioned as he approached (Y/N), chuckling at the fact that Isabella had walked right passed her without a word.

“It is,” (Y/N) responded with a nod, her eyes wide as she conveyed her exasperation to him. Tommy sent her a soft grin before he continued to follow his daughter to her room.

Once Isabella was settled, Tommy got into telling an elaborate story about a princess who had to go and save her darling dog from the grasps of an evil king — they’d just taken in Cyril and the little girl was obsessed with all things related to dogs. Isabella listened intently to the story, reacting to all of the twists and turns that it had. That was the thing she loved most about her dad’s bedtime stories: no one was the same. (Y/N) swore that he could have made a career in writing them…if he hadn’t went down other paths that is.

“We’re reaching the ending now, love,” Tommy warned his daughter as he took a moment’s pause. A pout formed on Isabella’s face; she didn’t want the story to be over yet. “I need to ask you about the ending…”

“What about it?” Isabella interrupted before he could get to the question, her eyebrows furrowing as she titled her head slightly.

“Happy or sad?” he asked, his brows raised as he waited for her answer.

“Happy,” the little girl answered without second thought. Tommy nodded and prepared to end the story. Isabella spoke again before he could get a word out, “who would ever choose sad?” she asked, her question one of the most genuine ones Tommy had ever heard.

“I…” he began to answer, but his words died in his throat as he really thought about the question she asked. He shook his head and ran his hand along his jaw, trying to think of a response that was worthy of such a question. “Someone who isn’t quite sure what happy is, I’d guess,” he finally responded, not sure if what he decided on was even good enough.

Isabella thought about it for a second, her pondering starkly present in her facial expression. “Well that isn’t us, right, daddy?” she then sweetly asked, her doe eyes finding his again.

In that moment, all the bad that Tommy Shelby had done was washed away. All the struggle and strife, the bad blood and the tunnels were the furthest thing from his mind. Now all that was present was the world that his darling daughter was imagining. One that only held good, one where everything ended happy. He was so thankful for her innocence, for the light that she brought into his life.

The slightest smile graced his lips as he shook his head ever so slightly. “No, love…that isn’t us,” he answered her as he sat a loving hand on her blanket covered knee. His smile grew with each second their eyes stayed connected, and he thanked whoever was mainf decisions in the sky for giving him this beautiful little girl.

“Are you gonna finish the story, dad?” Isabella asked, cutting through Tommy’s thoughts and bringing him back to reality.

Her expectant look made him laugh as he nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m gonna finish the story,” he answered her before going on with the happy ending she’d asked for.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

The Beast Wants to Tempt the Little Rabbit (Matias vs Clavis)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Not proofread.

Clavis: "Haha, found you. So this is where you work."

Emma: "Prince Clavis!?"

After completing my duty as a belle, I returned to my peaceful life, but then Clavis appeared out of nowhere, causing me to drop the book I was reading on the counter.

Clavis: "That reaction. You missed me that much, huh? Then feel free to leap into my arms."

Emma: "I'll pass. Anyway, who's that gentleman next to you?"

Standing right behind Clavis was a man I didn't recognize. Despite his rugged appearance and equally imposing presence as Clavis, he had an impeccable posture and charisma that naturally drew attention.

Matias: "Pardon me. I'm Matias Asbrink, a friend of Clavis. Nice to meet you."

Emma: "Nice to meet you. I'm Emma."

Matias: "Are you also a friend of Clavis?"

Emma: "Um, no, we're just acquaintances."

Clavis: "How can you say that? You and I have been through so much together."

Matias: "Is that so?"

Emma: "You're right. We experienced all sorts of things together. You convinced me to be your partner in crime for all your mischief-making and even dragged me all over the palace."

Matias: "I see."

Emma: "So, why are you here, Prince Clavis?"

Having endured countless misadventures thanks to Clavis during my time at the palace, I couldn't help but be cautious.

Clavis: "That's because I've appointed you as our tour guide!"

Emma: “Tour guide?”

(What's that supposed to mean?)

Clavis smiled and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Clavis: “You see, Matias here is the prince of Acroite, the land of snow and law.”

Emma: “Prince!?”

Clavis: “It’s only natural to entertain the honored guest, so I thought of organizing a Rhodolite tour.”

Clavis: “Emma, you’ve been living in this city since you were born.”

Clavis: “That means you know more about this place than I do.”

(Well, I might have a bit of confidence in that.)

Clavis: “Therefore, I’d like you to assist with the tour.”

Clavis: “And having a woman around like Matias would add to the charm, don’t you think?”

Matias: “She seems to be a bookstore clerk. Aren't we bothering her?”

(He seems surprisingly reasonable for someone who’s Clavis’s friend.)

I know firsthand that nothing good comes from being involved with Clavis, but if I refuse now, it might inconvenience Prince Matias.

(Yeah, there’s no way I can just ignore it.)

Emma: “Owner! Did you hear our conversation?”

The owner peeked out from the back of the shop.

Akatsuki: “No problem. Be careful out there.”

Emma: “Thank you very much.”

Clavis: "Haha, I knew you'd definitely help."

Matias: "I'm sorry if it feels like we're forcing you, but thank you, Miss Emma."

Emma: "No, it’s fine. I'll do my best to make you enjoy Rhodolite."

(I need to keep a close eye on Clavis to make sure he doesn't go off the rails.)

Most of the time, the words peace and safety escaped me when I was with Clavis.

Unfortunately, this time, too, it seemed to have already escaped me.

Emma: "Um, Prince Clavis."

Clavis: "What's up? Are you impressed by my thoroughness?"

Emma: "No, I was just wondering why there's a white horse here."

As we exited the bookstore, I saw a quiet and wise-looking white horse tethered nearby.

While it wouldn't be unusual for a means of transportation to be there, the fact that there was only one raised some questions.

(It doesn't look like they rode together.) 

Matias: "It's a magnificent horse. Is it a warhorse?"

(Prince Matias seems surprised as well.)

Clavis: "Yes, he's Chevalier's partner. But today, he's your companion, Matias."

Matias: "What do you mean?"

Clavis: "You'll be riding this horse to get around from now on."

Matias: "And what about you and Miss Emma?"

Clavis: "We have important tasks to attend to."

Flashing his brightest smile, he signaled to Cyril, and he reluctantly brought over two baskets.

Upon seeing what was inside, I tilted my head in confusion.

Emma: "Rose petals?"

Clavis: "Yup, you'll be in charge of the rose petals with me."

Emma: "Prince Clavis, what the hell are you planning?"

Clavis: "I'm glad you asked."

With a lively expression, Clavis took out a red sash worn by princes during ceremonies.

Noticing the unusually placed sash before me, I couldn't help but groan.

Emma: "I understand."

Emma: "Prince Matias, let's run away."

Matias: "Are you suggesting that we elope?"

Emma: “Elope?”

(Why are his eyes so serious?)

Clavis: "Haha! Hold on a second, Emma. You seem to be misunderstanding something."

Emma: “I'm not misunderstanding anything. I've seen through all your plans.”

Emma: "You're going to put that sash that says 'today's star of the show' on Prince Matias and have him march through the streets on horseback, aren't you?"

Clavis: "My goodness."

Clavis: "I knew you were brilliant, but I never expected you to be this perceptive!"

Emma: "Let's run, Prince Matias!"

Matias: "And then, we'll find an eternal paradise where no one else can enter."

Emma: "Prince Matias?"

Matias: "Ah, sorry. I was lost in thought."

(Did I hear him say something weird just now, or am I imagining things?)

Clavis: "Matias, here, take this."

Emma: "Ah!"

We were unable to escape in time; Clavis had already handed him the sash.

Matias: “Rhodolite has an unusual way of sightseeing.”

Clavis: “You’re a special guest, so you need to be welcomed not only by me and Emma but by the town citizens as well.”

(Yeah, it’s over.)

Clavis: "People, behold! Make way for our distinguished guest!"

In the end, there was no way a girl like me could stop Clavis, so I reluctantly scattered the petals and followed along as Matias, riding on a white horse, moved forward.

Woman: "What is Prince Clavis up to this time?"

Man: "He's a distinguished guest, apparently. I'm not quite sure what's happening, but maybe we should just go along with it?"

Being used to Clavis' antics, the people of Rhodolite quickly adapted to the situation.

Every time Matias passed by, people applauded and cheered. Before we knew it, we had become the center of attention.

Matias: "This also requires a strong spirit."

Emma: "Prince Matias, if it's uncomfortable for you, I can stop..."

Matias: "No, it's fine. If this is Rhodolite's way of welcoming guests, then so be it."

Matias: "By the 62nd precept of the Asbrink family motto, let us proceed."

(What's with that motto? "Accept the kindness of others," or something like that?)

Making up his mind, Prince Matias waved to the cheering crowd and made the surroundings even livelier.

Woman: "He's quite charming, isn't he?"

Woman: "Yeah. But goodness, his overwhelming charisma is almost suffocating."

(It looks like Prince Matias is especially popular among women.)

(Well, I can understand why. He's so handsome and has tremendous sex appeal.)

Woman: "If only Prince Clavis would stay silent and just be a feast for the eyes."

Woman: "Yeah, he's handsome, but only on the surface."

(Clavis is getting quite the remarks.)

Clavis: "Hm."

Clavis: "This is rather unsatisfactory."

Part 2 ╎ Matias End ╎ Epilogue

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

A Brother for Cyril

Alfie Solomons x Wife!Reader, fluff

733 words; Alfie is tricked into getting you a new dog...and it's all Thomas Shelby's fault.

Warnings: Swearing.

“Now Tommy… what the hell is that?”

“It’s a dog Alfie. A very sweet dog that you will love.”

“You silly boy that is not a dog. That thing is a rat. Cyril, now that’s a dog yeah? That thing is smaller than my boot, and I can’t even see it’s rat face. There’s nothing there. It’s a ball of hair.”

“Well it is a puppy Alfie. And it isn’t a rat, they call it a shi tzu. All the finest ladies have one.”

“...Are you trying to tell me something Tommy?”

Tommy Shelby rolled his eyes, “I’m trying to give you the dog. Lizzie refused to take it and Polly doesn’t want animals in the house. So I thought, ‘Hey. Mrs. Solomons is a beautiful woman, and Alfie could probably use help spoiling his wife.’ You’re welcome Alfie.” 

Alfie leaned forward, with an accusing finger twitching at Tommy, “Listen to me yeah? Don’t talk about my wife, in fact don’t even think about Mrs. Solomons alright? That woman is an angel, and there is nothing holy that goes around that twisted little mind of yours. Now, regarding the… thing. I can assure you that Mrs. Solomons will not want -”

“What won’t I want darling?”

Both men have their heads snap to you in the doorway, with a soft smile on your lips, and a curious twinkle in your eye. Alfie quickly looked at the clock, 2 p.m, he should have been home an hour ago for lunch with you. Despite Alfie’s insistence that you don’t come to the office on weekends, even when he was here, he knew that you would always disobey to come fetch him. Before Alfie could say anything to you about going back home with Ollie, Thomas Shelby beat him to the punch, “Alfie was just saying how you will not ever want to be parted with this… adorable little animal.” Thomas held up the small ball of fur, as little whimpers began to emanate from the puppy. 

“Oh my goodness Alfie you shouldn’t have! Oh darling he is precious! What a sweet precious baby! Oh now Cyril will have a little brother won’t he! Alfie you spoil me so, thank you so much darling!” You immediately took the little dog into your arms, pressing kisses to the top of it’s head, and the dog nuzzled its small face into your chest, soon falling into comfortable sleep. 

Alfie stared at you, mouth agape. For someone who could be so vicious with her words when the occasion called for it, you really babied the animals you came across. You walked behind the desk to kiss Alfie tenderly, “I was so upset that you didn’t come home for lunch, I’m so sorry my love, I didn’t realize that you were picking up such a darling little thing.”

As you kissed his cheek, Thomas Shelby smirked in the face of Alfie’s scowl. Once again, Thomas Shelby had manipulated the situation to his benefit, and now Alfie was left with this… dog. A happy wife too.. But also another dog that Cyril could eat. But how could he say no to you when you were so incandessently happy and kissing him the way you were? “That’s right my darling I was bringing you a gift, and you are most right, Cyril does need a brother to look after, earn his keep yeah? Now my dear, what do you think you’re going to name him?”

“Hmmm, he does look like a Bartholomew to me. And we can call him Barty for short.” 

Thomas began to cover his mouth to smother his laughter, a ridiculous name for such a runt. But Alfie just scowled at him, if you gave the name it was perfect, “A wonderful name treacle. Now let’s get home and introduce the boys to each other yeah? Tommy? Get the fuck out, I’m taking my wife home. Ollie!? Get the car we’re going home.” 

As Alfie wrapped his arm around you to lead you out with him, you turned your head to look over Alfie’s shoulder at Tommy, “Goodbye Mr. Shelby! See you soon! Give your Aunt Polly my love.”

Tommy tipped his hat with a smile, “Goodbye Mrs. Solomons, a pleasure as always. Enjoy Barty. See you Monday Alfie.”

Alfie just grunted and pulled you closer, wanting to get away from the thorn in his side. 

[justrainandcoffee]

Relax (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc)

Masterlist

Summary: The day he decided to buy a hammock, Alfie was happy. "I deserve this", he thought. Despite his wife's words, he was determined to enjoy the view.

Warming: None. It's Based on this post 😂. I saw it this morning and I couldn't let it go.

Words: Around 300 or less.

1926

"Alfie, are you sure?"

"I'm sure, luv. What could be better than me lying on a hammock, watching the sea. It's my dream, Rosie."

"I understand but, Al, did you consider the possibility that you could have trouble to sit on it?"

"Have trouble? Of course not! It's a hammock! And you know what?" Alfie put an arm around her and squeezed her bottom "We can fuck on it."

"I'm not going to fuck in a hammock, Alfie! I'm not planning to hurt my leg."

"Fine, your lost, Rosie."

It was a fucking hammock, how hard it could be to climb and finally rest on it? People had hammocks around the world and they enjoyed the comfort it provided. And he, Alfie Solomons, was determined to be one of them.

Soon he noticed it wasn't that easy as it seemed.

It was a mix of everything. He was getting frustrated because he couldn't sit, let alone lay down; he was a really impatient man and his back was starting to bother him thanks to his multiple tries to get in.

Cyril was looking at him. If he could speak, probably he'd cheer for him because he was a good boy who loved his dad. Beast, the chihuahua, on the other hand...

Look at this idiot.

Then, it happened. His leg tangled up in the net and Alfie fell on the sand with a thud.

Rose was about to drink tea when she heard Cyril barking and through the window she could see her husband. She ran out.

"So, everything went well, I see..."

Alfie was still on the sand trying to free his foot.

"Are ya going to help me or not?"

Cyril was running around Alfie, trying to help but the truth is he wasn't helping at all and from the distance, Beast was still judging his owner. Rose started to laugh because the whole situation it was ridiculous, and yet was trying to untangle his husband from the net.

"I'm going to get a knife it's the only solution. I can't do it with my hands."

The whole way back to the kitchen and back again where Alfie was, she did it giggling. The hammock, lasted two hours in the Solomons' house, before Rose cut it to free her husband and helped him to stand up again.

"A fuckin' demonic thing! It's fuckin' rubbish!"

"Al, do not blame an inanimate object because of you. I-"

"Don't."

"Oh, no, no. You're not going to forbid me to enjoy this moment, Solomons." Rose cleared her throat and then, very proudly, said it "I told you."

Alfie furrowed and she started to giggle again. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" She asked and he nodded "Come inside, Al. Let's go and rest on the old sofa as our God intends."

Grateful for this new opportunity to rest, this time in a more stable place, Alfie followed her.

Maybe they could have sex there, Alfie thought, after his frustrated try to do it in the hammock. But probably, it will be much later. Because the moment they crossed the door, she started to laugh again and against all odds, he laughed too.

[nrdmssgs]

Tips to write for Nikolai (useful phrases)

Masterlist Tips to write for König (useful phrases)

AN: This guide is not meant to encourage you to start loving Russian language or culture. As much as I personally love Nikolai, I'll absolutely understand, there are people out there, that may feel bad, seeing him in CoD franchise, because of everything going on right now. This is not a call to start loving him, not a call to start describing this character as an absolute angel (he is not and never was). If seeing such a guide makes you feel bad - I'm genuinely sorry, and I'm open to a dialogue to make it better.

I tried to cover the most commonly used themes. However, it's impossible to make it short, yet all-covering. So please don't hesitate to come into my DMs with 'hey, I want Nikolai to say this thing in my fic - could you translate it in Russian for me?'. I'm always super-happy to help!

These are not my HCs, about what would Nik say, just some usefull phrases!

And the last one: Russian language uses Cyrillic letters. But I personally love to, at least try to hear, how other languages sound. So I provided translations (Cyrilic) and transliterations (Latin).

TW: swearing

Basic words, you may need for everyday chit-chat

Hello - Здравствуй Zdravstvui

Hi - Привет Privet

Good morning \ day \ evening - Доброе утро \ добрый день \ добрый вечер Dobroe utro \ dobryi den' \ dobryi vecher

Goodbye (untill next time) - До свидания Do svidaniia

Bye - Пока Poka

Thank you - Спасибо Spasibo

You are welcome - Пожалуйста Pozhaluista

Yes \ yes of course - Да \ Конечно Da \ Konechno

No - Нет Net

Petnames

Genderless (can be used, referring to both men and women, depending on relationship dynamic):

Angel - Ангел Angel

My soul - Душа моя Dusha moia

Treasure - Сокровище Sokrovishche

Sun \ little sun - Солнце \ Солнышко Solntse \ Solnyshko

My joy - Радость моя Radost' moia

Love - Любовь Liubov'

My light - Мой свет Moi svet

My happiness - Счастье моё Schast'e moe

Dream - Мечта Mechta

Little cloud - Облачко Oblachko

Little fire - Огонёк Ogonek

Precious - Прелесть Prelest'

Heart - Сердце Serdtse

Little tiger - Тигрёнок Tigrenok

Wonder - Чудо Chudo

Feminine and masculine versions of petnames (Here you can add 'my' moia for feminine, moi for masculine versions of names)

Priceless - Бесценная \ Бесценный Bestsennaia \ Bestsennyi

Divine - Божественная \ Божественный Bozhestvennaia \ Bozhestvennyi

Peerless - Бесподобная \ Бесподобный Bespodobnaia \ Bespodobnyi

Gorgeous - Великолепная \ Великолепный Velikolepnaia \ Velikolepnyi

Delightful - Восхитительная \ Восхитительный Voskhititel'naia \ Voskhititel'nyi

Darling - Дорогая \ Дорогой Dorogaia \ Dorogoi

Precious - Драгоценная \ Драгоценный Dragotsennaia \ Dragotsennyi

The only one - Единственная \ Единственный Edinstvennaia \ Edinstvennyi

Desired - Желанная \ Желанный Zhelannaia \ Zhelannyi

Golden - Золотая \ Золотой Zolotaia \ Zolotoi

Affectionate - Ласковая \ Ласковый Laskovaia \ Laskovyi

Beloved - Любимая \ Любимый Liubimaia \ Liubimyi

Sweetheart - Милая \ Милый Milaia \ Milyi

Tender - Нежная \ Нежный Nezhnaia \ Nezhnyi

The one, I can't stop looking at (lovingly) - Ненаглядная \ Ненаглядный Nenagliadnaia \ Nenagliadnyi

Incredible - Невероятная \ Невероятный Neveroiatnaia \ Neveroiatnyi

Charming - Очаровательная \ Очаровательный Ocharovatel'naia \ Ocharovatel'nyi

Dear (often said to someone, you consider your family) - Родная \ Родной Rodnaia \ Rodnoi

Sweet - Сладкая \ Сладкий Sladkaia \ Sladkii

Good one - Хорошая \ Хороший Khoroshaia \ Khoroshii

Love confessions and stuff around that

I love you. - Я люблю тебя. Ia liubliu tebia.

I like you. - Ты мне нравишься. Ty mne nravish'sia.

I fell in love with you at first sight. - Я влюбился (if man says it) \ влюбилась (if woman) в тебя с первого взгляда. Ia vliubilsia \ vliubilas' v tebia s pervogo vzgliada.

I can not live without you. - Я не могу без тебя жить. Ia ne mogu bez tebia zhit'.

You drive me crazy. - Я схожу по тебе с ума. Ia skhozhu po tebe s uma.

I wanna be with you. - Я хочу быть с тобой. Ia hochu byt' s toboi.

I think about you constantly. - Я постоянно думаю о тебе. Ia postoianno dumaiu o tebe.

You are my only one. - Ты мой (if the partner is masculine) \ моя (if the partner is feminine) единственный\ая. Ty moi \ moia edinstvennyi\aia.

I really need you. - Ты мне очень нужна (f partner) \ нужен (m partner). Ty mne ochen' nuzhna \ nuzhen.

We were meant for each other. - Мы созданы друг для друга. My sozdany drug dlia druga.

I'm ready to do anything for you. - Я готов/а на все ради тебя. Ia gotov/a na vse radi tebia.

I'm never giving you to somebody. - Я тебя никому не отдам. Ia tebia nikomu ne otdam.

Dirty talking

I want you. - Я хочу тебя. Ia hochu tebia.

I'm all yours. - Я вся твоя \ весь твой. Ia vsia tvoia \ ves' tvoi.

Your body drives me crazy. - Твоё тело сводит меня с ума. Tvoe telo svodit menia s uma.

I want to feel your touch all over. - Хочу чувствовать твои руки везде. Hochu chuvstvovat' tvoi ruki vezde.

You can do anything you want today. - Тебе сегодня можно всё. Tebe segodnia mozhno vse.

Take me the way, you want to. - Возьми меня, как ты хочешь. Voz'mi menia, kak ty khochesh'.

I want to make you moan. - Хочу заставить тебя стонать. Hochu zastavit' tebia stonat'.

Give yourself to me completely. - Отдайся мне весь (to m partner)\ вся (to f partner), без остатка. Otdaisia mne ves' \ vsia, bez ostatka.

Show me, that I belong to you only. - Покажи мне, что я только твоя \ твой. Pokazhi mne, chto ia tol'ko tvoia \ tvoi.

What do you want to do to me? - Что ты хочешь со мной сделать? Chto ty hochesh' so mnoi sdelat'?

Don't stop. - Не останавливайся. Ne ostanavlivaisia.

I want to taste you. - Хочу попробовать тебя на вкус. Hochu poprobovat' tebia na vkus.

Swearing

Fuck (as an interjection) - Блять Bliat'

Fuck off - Отъебись Ot"ebis' (to one person), отъебитесь ot"ebites' (to a group of people)

Bloody hell - Ёбаный пиздец (NOT used during sex!!) Ebanyi pizdets

Bastard - Сволочь (applied to any gender) Svoloch'

Motherfucker - Ублюдок \ уебан Ubliudok \ ueban

Son of a bitch - Сукин сын Sukin syn

Asshole - Жопа \ задница. Zhopa \ zadnitsa.

Cunt \ Pussy - Пизда (This and next one can in theory be used in bed, but i really strongly recommend you to NOT) Pizda

Cock \ Dick - Хуй Hui

Cultural extras to get in the mood

I sometimes meet this take, that Russian, as well as German language, sounds menacing or harsh. And as much as I understand, that it is subjective perception, I have something to add: you can modulate Russian speech as well as any other. You can sound like softest softie, coo and purr in Russian, if you want. Here is a good example: a guy just reads a poem, but you try and tell me, he is not straight seducing you.

Very nice perspective on how non-tourist Russia looks like. The guy travels to places, that still look and feel like USSR and somehow manages to survive. Don't mind him rambling, how good was soviet life - he doesn't mean it, he just says whatever people, he meets, would love to hear.

Another good channel to explore non-tourist Ru and some extreme weathers. Don't worry, there are no jumpscares and nothing scary happens on the videos.

Russian winter is a tricky one, because -40 С in Yakutsk can sometimes feel softer as -20 in Moscow. Humidity and wind are the keys.

No, vodka is not the only alcohol option) You can write a Ru character, that despises vodka and it will be 100% legit.

If you need domestic and interior references to Nikolais youth in soviet Ru - I can recommend HBOs Chernobyl series. An accuracy and attention to domestic details there is so great that it gets uncanny sometimes.

Stefan Kapičić does very tender and smooth version of Slavic accent. And he is 100% right to do so - it works good both for his character and the audience. If you want to hear heavier versions of Russian accent - here is a little funny video.

[drabblesandimagines]

[400 requests] congrats btw!! i adore how you write for joshua so may i ask for a joshua rosfield x reader.. extremely tooth rooting fluff.. kinda domestic fluff as well.. just a soft morning with joshua.. literally can be anything! from in bed or a nice stroll around the hideway.. a picnic breakfast somewhere.. anything!

Thank you, anon! I hope you enjoy this one. I feel I can't help but write Joshua so suave. Please, please drop me an inbox to let me know what you think x

Lazy Mornings Joshua Rosfield x reader, fluff

You cannot pinpoint exactly when it had started – hazy memories of your eyes meeting his blue ones across the sanctum, followed by deliberated brushing touches, chance meetings in the library at late hours turning into deliberate meetings in the Phoenix's bed chambers. Joshua had been away for a few weeks, conducting research, and you’d been worried in his absence. As he and Jote had returned the previous evening, his eyes had only met yours for a moment but you didn’t need words to know what he was after, and so you had snuck into his chambers later that night with all intentions of slipping out before the morning had come…

You wake up, slowly at first. You’re warm, relaxed and content, but the feeling is swiftly lost when you clock that the sun is a little too high in the sky for your liking and you need to get moving. Preparing to roll out the bed, you find two arms determined to keep you held snugly in place. You tut, taking hold of one and tug in an attempt to move it, but the limb holds stubbornly firm, though you cannot miss the flicker of a smile on your captor’s face.

“Joshua…”

Silence – his blonde hair mussed up around him as he lays on the pillow, almost angelic.

“Joshua.”

Nothing – obviously determined to keep up his pretense.

“I know you are awake, Joshua.”

He nuzzles his head into your neck then, making you squirm a little as it tickles. “No, I am not.”

“You have never been one to talk in your sleep, so I disagree.” You tug again, but his arm remains heavy in place. “I need to go.”

“Mm. You do not.” His eyes remain closed, determinedly so.

“I do, though”, you stress again, trying to sit up to see if that will help you gain some leverage. “I’ve stayed too late.”

“Not late enough. Go back to sleep – you’re still tired too, sweet one.”

You’re glad his eyes are still closed as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks from his term of endearment and sigh – dramatically so - before dropping back against the many pillows that adorn the Phoenix’s bed. “You are being a little childish.”

Joshua opens his eyes then, looks up at you with a coy smile. “Mayhaps I would admit a little bit of selfishness, but why are you in such a rush to leave me?”

“That’s not fair,” you protest at his wording. “You know I wish to stay, but if Master Cyril were to catch me in here, he’d…” You trail off. You can’t comprehend what he might do, to be honest, but it wouldn’t be anything good. Of course, Cyril isn’t blind to the looks that you and Joshua share across chambers, but it was only mere speculation on his part – nothing that he could note down in his work of the Phoenix’s life and duties.

“Cyril would not dare to enter my private chambers without permission.” He sits up, though keeping his hold firm on you as he does – afraid you might vanish from his sight if he does not.

“But he will surely visit them to check on your hea-”

Warm lips cut you off mid-word. Your eyes meet Joshua’s blue ones, yours wide with surprise as he closes his, places a palm on your cheek to coax you to reciprocate his kiss. You close your eyes then, careful to exhale through your nose, and kiss back, matching his pace. Moments pass as you settle into a steady rhythm, but something pushes you forward, placing a hand on his thigh, swiping your tongue across his bottom lip and-

Three knocks at the door in a familiar pattern.

You jerk out of the kiss in alarm, almost toppling off the bed itself were it not for Joshua’s quick reflexes pulling you back towards him.

“Who is it?” He calls, smiling at you all the while.

“It is I, Cyril, Your Grace.”

“One moment.”

You look around the chambers in alarm – the window is too small to crawl through, the door is the only exit you have, but that’s right through the thoroughfare of the sanctum at this hour, not to mention the man standing at the other side of it. “Joshua, what do we do?”

“I will deal with it. You, however, should lie back, relax…” he whispers, pushing you down gently, kissing your forehead, “..and stay quiet.” He gets to his feet then, throwing the soft red knitted blanket over you, before you hear his soft footsteps head over to the door, the oak creaking as he opens it enough for him to pop his head out to greet the Bearer of the Burning Quill.

“I am sorry to disturb you, Your Grace, but as I had not seen you this morn I wanted to check everything was all right.”

“Fine, Cyril. I am just a little weary after the last few days of travel – I think I will take today to rest if matters can wait.”

“Very well, Your Grace.” Cyril nods, though steps to the side a little, trying to see behind the Phoenix. “Would you like me to send for Lady Jote to assist you?”

“No, no - that is quite unnecessary,” Joshua waves off, “I know she is tired from our travels also. If you could arrange for some sustenance to be sent up so I can break my fast, that would be appreciated.”

“At once, Your Grace. Will that be all?”

“Yes. Thank you, Cyril.”

Cyril bows, takes a step back and the door is swiftly shut behind him.

You feel the mattress dip besides you before the blanket is pulled down from over your face – a boyish grin on Joshua’s face. “See? The day is ours.”

You stare up at him, your heart pounding from your nerves – realizing what had scared you so. It wasn’t so much being caught by Cyril, but the idea of being caught and forbidden from seeing Joshua again.

“Have I lost you, sweet one?” The Phoenix questions, laying down besides you, tilting your chin to meet your gaze.

“I love you.”

The smile on Joshua’s face is as bright as the sun in the sky.

“I love you more.”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[vietsoul]

Hello! May I ask a dumb question? I absolutely adore the things you post! As a gay trans man, it always makes my day to see such handsome and hot men, that I would like to look like someday! Like, genuinely, I get so much gender envy from those guys (not to mention hflksdy makes me yearn for a bf of my own!) So, I wanted to ask you if you have some GIFs of men kissing more gently? Like, not just straight up making out, just some gentle kissing with little to no tongue? If not, then that's more than alright too, I love and adore your content either way, I just thought asking was free! Anyway, I'm wishing you a wonderful day! Happy holidays and a happy new year! Stay well, stay healthy, and I am wishing you all the best! ^^

awh, thank you for your kind words <3 I wish you the same <3

but it's hard for me to encounter the soft-kissing kinds in porn, i guess in movies you would see it more often.

maybe my mutuals can help, @zanephillips @anthonysperkins @dan-cyril-kingston @daimiyamoto @jonathan-bailey @hunnam @kevinfeiges @supfag

[dyns33]

Alfie : "... Ineedyourhelp."

Tommy : "Sorry, I didn't get that, what Alfie ?"

Alfie : Damn it, Thomas. I need your help."

Tommy : "With bussiness ?"

Alfie : "With your hellish sister."

Tommy : "Oh. Not sure I can help then. What happened ?"

Alfie : "Nothing happened !"

Tommy : "Alfie. What did you do ?"

Alfie : "... I was tired, alright. I was tired, and not thinking, and I just told her that I needed to be alone, and to leave."

Tommy : "And ?"

Alfie : "She left."

Tommy : "I don't see your problem."

Alfie : "It was three days ago ! I can't find her, she's gone ! I want me wife, Tommy !"

Tommy : "Maybe some apologies would be a good start."

Alfie : "I will shout on the roof of my fucking bakery for her to hear how deeply sorry I am, but I have no idea where she is."

Tommy : "Maybe try right now. I'm just... Wait... I'm putting the phone a bit away from my mouth, you may proceed."

Alfie : "... I knew you were with your dog of a brother, treacle ! I fucking knew it."

Tommy : "Ah, she's leaving."

Alfie : "No ! Wait !"

Tommy : "Less nonsense, more excuses."

Alfie : "I'm so sorry, love. I'm a fool, I can't be without you. I can't think without you, and I asked you to leave because I'm truly a mad twat. I miss you. Cyril misses you. Please, come home now."

Tommy : "What do you think ?"

Arthur : "He's a twat indeed."

Alfie : "... You have no idea where Y/N is."

Tommy : "I do. Taking some vacations. She left a note in your office, for you not to panic, saying she would come back on monday. I guess you panicked and didn't see it. Thanks for your call, Alfie."

Alfie : "You bloody fuc..."

[wanderingsoul6261]

He did What?

Credit for gif goes to k-wame

James Beaufort x Reader

synopsis: Requested by an Anon. Mortimer hits Y/N, and Percy takes her to James. Reader and James have been in a long running relationship.

This fic is significantly shorter than some of my others.

warnings: physical abuse

“A father should never treat his kids like you do James and Lydia. You’re a monster." Y/N wasn't sure where it came from, but she knew that she should have had more self-restraint. 

A crack sounded out and Y/N's head whipped to the side. Shock and surprise filled her body and her left ear started ringing. She could hear Percy scrambling to her, having come to take her to James at Cyril's after a miscommunication caused her chauffeur to leave her at the Beauforts's Manor. It was there she ran into Mortimer Beaufort, and obviously, the interaction had turned sour. 

Y/N would agree now that she probably shouldn't have said what she said, especially to the man before her. However, she would definitely say That she didn't believe she deserved the slap she received. It didn't matter what she did or didn't say. She could have said worse and silently thanked herself for not doing so. 

“You don't have the right to speak to me in such a way.” Mortimer scowled. She opened her mouth to retort back, but was immediately pulled away by Percy. 

Percy guided her towards the car, her body shivering as the shock dissipated and her body filled with adrenaline. After helping her into the car, he sent a quick message to James. 

Your father struck Y/N- P

Y/N sat silently the entire ride to Cyril's house. She normally made polite talk with Percy, with or without James in the car, but at the moment, she was too upset. Mostly at herself, for not having the self restraint to stop herself from saying what she did. But she was also upset at Mortimer himself, for thinking he could treat people in such a way that he has been. 

But that's the rich for you. They treat people however they feel like it. 

She looked out the window, her eyes watching as the trees and building passed. Percy had looked back at her through the rearview mirror. He took notice of the red welt on her face where Mortimer had hit her. Percy knew James had seen his message, but the Beaufort twin never responded. Taking in a deep breath, and letting it out slowly, he was already preparing himself for a very angry James. 

Time had gone by quickly in the car. Y/N blinked as they pulled up to Cyril’s home, her eyes finding James out in the front, already waiting for them. She looked into the front seat, noticing Percy already looking at her. Letting out a quick sigh, she prepared herself as James came over, not waiting for Percy to open the door for her. 

“Y/N-”

“I’m fine.” There was no hiding the red welt on her face. It stayed, even after the drive from the Beaufort Manor to Cyril’s home. His eyes made quick work of finding it. He sucked in a breath. When Percy texted him to let him know what had happened, he had hoped that it was some sick joke, but the bad part about it all? James believed that his father would do such a thing before he even saw the mark on her face. 

“How is that fine? My father-” He stopped. Y/N knew he was stewing in anger. His weren’t the only thing that gave away his current round up of emotions. He kept clenching his fists and running his hands through his hair. Amongst being angry at his father, he was upset and frustrated. Upset that he hadn’t been there to protect her. Frustrated with his life. “I ought to-” 

“No. James. Going back there and confronting him is going to fix things. It’s better that he thinks that you don’t know.” Her hands weaved into his own, preventing him from clenching his fists. I shouldn’t even have said what I did.” 

“Doesn’t mean that you deserved to be struck in the way that you did!” James argued. 

“I asked for it.” 

“Y/N.” The two stood still, staring at each other. They were silent for several moments. Y/N had pulled her hands away from his, picking at her fingers in anxiousness. He grabbed them back, stopping her from doing so. They were drowning in silence.

  “What did you say to him that got his panties in a twist?” He asked finally. Y/N looked up at him, before walking past him and sitting on the front steps of the house. He followed behind her, the two of them watching as Percy parked the car away from the front. Percy would be there still when they needed him. 

“Told him that a father wouldn’t treat his kids in such a way that he does with you and Lydia. That he was a monster.” She mumbled softly. James looked over at her. She currently had her head bowed, hair covering her face. Y/N had defended him and his sister. The woman he loved stood up for him and Lydia when almost no one else would. His heart beat for the selfless soul sitting next to him. 

James wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him. 

“You don’t have to defend me and Lydia.” Y/N turned her head abruptly to look at him. 

“But-” 

“I appreciate what you did. No one ever stands up to my father.” James finished her sentence for her. “I appreciate you, Y/N.” His hands grasped her cheeks. “But please, don’t do anything like that again. Not if the price is you getting punished for it.” Y/N blinked a few times, having no choice but to stare James in his face. She finally nodded. "I can't bear the knowledge of you getting hurt."

“Okay.” She mumbled softly. 

“Promise?” He asked, peering into her eyes.

“Promise.” James pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“Good. Now I’m going to text my parents and tell them I’m staying the night at Cyril’s, and then we are going back to your place.” James’ voice was authoritative. There was no room for debate. But when the end of the night finally came, and James and Y/N were at her own home, in her own bed, she didn’t mind it. With James holding her against him, murmuring soft words of endearment into her ears, she didn’t want anything else. 

And as she fell asleep, feeling James press a soft kiss to the crown of her head, she knew one thing. 

Even if she did make a promise to James, she would always stick up for him and Lydia, no matter what.

She just wished that she had done it more often in the past few years that she has been in their lives.

-----

@sillyfreakfanparty @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @benbarnesprettygurl

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Breakfast in Margate (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Modern AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2K

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

Summary:

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

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

Especially those that concern a sweet reward.

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

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

TH Masterlist

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

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

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

Our home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for the faith, buddy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was a sweet and caring gentleman.

Simply Alfie Solomons.

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

Especially if he hasn’t had his coffee.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which is?”

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

“Where’d you get the recipe?”

“YouTube…”

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

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

“Don’t use my words against me.”

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

I hope.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“First put on a pair of knickers.”

“No.”

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

“I ain’t sweating.”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe you’re the one who isn’t.”

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

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

Until I black out. 

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

For him.

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

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

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

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

“Knickers, Alfie.”

“One round.”

“Alfred Solomons Jr, knickers. Right now.”

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

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

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

Game over.

Except for the one card I have left to play.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

These hours are ours.

This is our Margate.

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

“Mhm.”

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

Because sleeping isn’t an option.

He’s tired of the nightmares.

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

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

And it’s already rotten enough in the morning.

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

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

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

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

“And? Do you like it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m serious.”

“You are?”

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

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

“There are cookbooks.”

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

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

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

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

Something not to be had in the kitchen.

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

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

Game over.

I won.

And the prize is something sweet with lots of cream.

[runnning-outof-time]

The Joys of Being a Girl Dad | Tommy Shelby & Alfie Solomons (set in Girl Dad series)

Request: no - written for @justrainandcoffee ‘s 2 year ‘Alfieversary’

Pairing: Tommy Shelby (x Reader mentioned) & Alfie Solomons (x fem!OC & child OC mentioned)

Summary: Tommy stops by Margate to congratulate an old associate…adversary…friend.

Warnings: language (it’s Tommy and Alfie we’re talking about here), a slight bit of Cyril slander

A/N: I’m sorry it took me soooo long to write something for your celebration, Flor!! I guess I could call this a present for Rose’s 1 year anniversary too now, even though she’s not really in it. Thank you for sharing this beautiful au with us!!

A/N 2: I should also say that this story was supposed to be shorter, but I just kinda became invested and ran away with it…I hope you don’t mind. Also it’s been a bit since I’ve written for Alfie, so I hope he’s not too ooc here. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

“Who let you in?” the man who was sitting facing the open balcony door asked.

“How’d you know it was me?” the other man, who was standing at the entrance of the room, responded with his own question.

“Smelt the smoke and horse shit the second you stepped through that archway,” the first man mused, earning a snort from the second. “So I’ll ask again: who let you in?”

“Your wife…”

“Figures she did,” the first man cut the second off, muttering the comment under his breath.

“Your wife’s assistant let me in after she told me to get lost and slammed the door in my face,” the rest of the statement was shared, which made the first man finally spin in his seat to look back towards the archway.

Silence hung in the air for a few moments, the two men staring at each other from several paces away…much like they had on that fated day all those months ago. “So why didn’t ya listen to her?” the first man finally broke the quiet, his quip conjoined with a look of query.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Alfie?” the second man asked, his eyebrows just slightly raised.

“It has,” the first man nodded, pursing his lips together for a moment before he continued, “yet it is still sooner than the day in which I thought I’d see Tommy Shelby again.”

Tommy Shelby just shook his head at the man’s remark, looking at the ground as he pursed his lips. It didn’t faze him in the slightest.

“Why’re you here then?” Alfie asked, still wanting to get to the bottom of the Birmingham man’s presence. However, he interjected again before said man even had the chance to speak: “you’ve come to finish me off, haven’t ya? Since ya couldn’t get it right the first time.”

“I’ve come with something,” Tommy answered, not even bothering to respond to Alfie’s second comment.

He then stepped towards the chair that the other man was sitting in, his hands still behind his back. Anyone else would have wondered if maybe they’d got it right…maybe he was actually there to finish his old adversary off. But Alfie wasn’t bothered in the slightest. No, he could tell from the manner in which Tommy approached him.

“I want to offer a congratulations…on your daughter,” Tommy finished his statement once he was standing in front of Alfie. Alfie looked him over with raised eyebrows, wondering just how a busy, business-minded man like him would have gotten such information. “(Y/N) told me the news. She got word of it from Rose,” Tommy gave the curious man some more information.

“That Rosie…” Alfie mused with a slight shake of his head, “I had a feelin’ that she hadn’t cut off all contact with you Shelbys.” He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his wife still keeping up a regular correspondence with the wife of the man who’d shot him.

(Y/N) and Rose had hit it off practically from the moment they met each other. Their friendship went beyond their husbands’ business partnership, and so when one disgruntled husband aimed a gun at the other and pulled the trigger, the two women tried hard not to let it come completely between them. There some time where radio silence prevailed…actually most out the time over the course of the last year was filled with radio silence, but it didn’t seem like a beat was missed when Rose contacted (Y/N) to tell her of the newest addition to the Solomons family.

Although Tommy was more hesitant to make amends, he couldn’t deny his wife’s request to deliver something to the newest Solomons.

“She wanted me to give you this,” Tommy then said, finally revealing the tan, stuffed rabbit that he’d brought with him. “To give to her,” he included, making his intentions more clear.

“I knew you weren’t givin’ me a stuffed rabbit,” Alfie quipped, snorting to himself before continuing, “or at least I hope you were plannin’ to.”

“I wasn’t planning on doing that, Alfie, no,” Tommy shook his head, dismissing the comment before it gained any ground. “The rabbit’s for your girl.”

Alfie took a moment to look over the other man again. He was still holding the rabbit out in front of him, waiting for Alfie to take it. Tommy wondered how long Alfie was going to make him stand like this.

Finally he took it. “She’ll like it,” Alfie stated, eyeing over the animal from close up now. He couldn’t deny that it felt soft in his hands. Allie would surely love it. “Thanks, Tommy.”

“My three couldn’t go to bed without it,” Tommy commented, a small smile gracing his lips as he thought of his three daughters and the love they had for that very stuffed rabbit.

A look of realization flashed across Alfie’s face as he heard Tommy’s comment. He brought his hand up to his jaw and ran it down his cheek slowly, stroking his beard as if he was in thought. “Have a seat,” he then said, gesturing to the chair that was set directly across from the one he was sitting in. He waited until the other man was seated before continuing, “three girls, huh?” he mused, sounding like he was talking more so to himself than anything.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded in response.

“A proper girl dad,” Alfie commented then.

“A what?” Tommy asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“You’re a dad that’s got all girls, hence the fucking term girl dad…stick with it, Tommy,” the response came laden with derision.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at the other man’s comments, looking to the ground as he let the air cool off before he cleared his throat and nodded his head. “Yeah, a girl dad then.” He ran a hand along the back of his head as he spoke, wondering if he was even using the term correctly. Alfie didn’t comment, so he guessed that he didn’t seem to care none.

Instead the newer father continued on with the conversation. “Does it ever get hard?”

“What? Being a girl dad?” Tommy looked over at him again.

“No, not being able to hit your fucking mark when you’re fifteen fucking paces away,” Alfie retorted, “yes, being a girl dad,” he then exaggerated his words.

Tommy bit his tongue yet again. He wasn’t here to get into a fight with Alfie Solomons. The rabbit currently sitting in the other man’s lap was supposed to serve as a sort of olive branch.

“It does,” he finally answered after a moment’s pause.

“Give me some fuckin’ detail, mate,” Alfie asked.

“Fuckin’ hell, Alfie,” Tommy sighed under his breath, pressing the pads of his thumbs against his eyelids. He cleared his throat again as he thought of how he’d answer the question. “It’s been hard from the moment we brought Thea home. A different sort of hard than the ‘hard’ I’ve experienced prior. But it’s also been rewarding...with Thea, then Evie and now Juniper. I’ve learned more from them than from anything else I’ve ever done.”

Alfie took a moment to digest what his confidant had just shared with him. He truly didn’t expect Tommy Shelby to come out with such meaningful statements. I guess even the worst of men can change their tones, he thought to himself. “I didn’t know ya had it in ya, Tommy,” he commented, exuding a breath of a laugh as he shook his head.

Tommy kept his eyes locked on Alfie unsure of how to respond to his comment. He wondered if this was all some sort of game…if Alfie now wanted to toy with him; getting him to open up just to use the information against him.

“Thanks for sharing it though. I, uh…” Alfie paused, the sound of his voice cutting through Tommy’s thoughts and making him focus in again. “I’ll take all of the help I can get with this one. They say that raising a child takes a fucking village, or however that fucking saying goes.”

“There’s a great deal of joy in it too,” Tommy made sure to add, hoping to convey that having daughters, or kids at all for that matter, wasn’t only stressful. “I just know that I wouldn’t be able to do it without (Y/N) though.”

“That’s the same with me and my Rosie. A fuckin’ trooper, that woman is,” Alfie agreed in regards to his wife. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for Rose Solomons. He genuinely owed his life to her…and he was going to spend the rest of it showing her.

Silence fell between the two men then, both sitting comfortably in their thoughts of the women they had in their lives, and of how much their respective wives meant to them. The silence hung until the sound of small feet came pattering off of the hardwood in the hallway.

“Daddy! Daddy!” a shrill voice of a small girl soon accompanied the hurried footsteps. Said girl quickly appeared in the archway of Alfie office. Along with her frantic demeanor, Alfie was also able to see streaks of tears on her chreks.

“What’s wrong, Allie?” he asked her, his brows furrowing together.

“Cyril chewed on my stuffie, daddy!” she exclaimed, hiccuping as she spoke through her tears. “It was my favorite stuffie!”

“Awe now love, I’m sorry about that,” Alfie began, opening his arms to the child as she came over to him. She quickly fell into them, and he wasted no time in hugging her tightly. “He’s just a brute that knows nothing of favorite stuffies,” he consoled her as she continued to sniffle her tears away.

Tommy watched on as the moment played out in front of him. He laughed to himself as hearing the reason behind the problem at hand took him back to the moments where Cyril had chewed his girls’ stuffies; there had to have been several instances during the dog’s stay at Arrow House.

“I don’t have a stuffie now, daddy,” Allie whimpered, finally lifting her head from her father’s chest. “Mum said it was too covered in slobber to be saved.”

“Well I’ve got just the fix for ya, Allie,” Alfie began, unwrapping one of his arms from her so that he could blindly search for the stuffed rabbit that Tommy had just handed him. He continued when he found the animal, “now I know it’s no bear, and I know that your favorite stuffies have all been bears, but this lovely little lass was just placed upon my lap moments before you came runnin’ in.”

Allie’s eyes immediately found the rabbit, and she had it in her tight embrace within an instant. “This stuffie is so soft! And she has a lovely bow!” she observed, now beaming with excitement. “Thank you so much, daddy!” she smiled at her father.

“Thanks have to go to that man,” Alfie told his daughter, nodding in Tommy’s direction. He bit his tounge and stopped the urge to add ‘the one who shot your father’ because even he knew this wasn’t the time for that. He didn’t want to bring that feud into Allie’s realm.

“What’s his name?” Allie asked in a loud whisper, her shy eyes finding Tommy’s.

“Tell ‘er your name, mate,” Alfie beckoned Tommy to share the information.

“It’s Tommy,” the other man followed suit, smiling as he spoke.

Allie observed him for a moment, surely trying to decide what she felt about him. A few beats of silence passed before a smile formed on her face. “Thank you, Mr. Tommy,” she said in a small voice.

“You’re welcome, Allie,” Tommy nodded, his smile widening.

“Dad you have to yell at Cyril now,” Allie turned back to her dad, a deep frown present on her face.

“I’ll make sure he knows what he’s done,” Alfie assured her, “go play, love.”

With one last smile, Allie hopped off of her father’s lap and exited the room almost as quick as she entered it.

“That fuckin’ dog…” Alfie trailed off, shaking his head, “why’d you give him back?”

“You wanted him back, Alfie,” Tommy answered in a monotone voice.

“You may be right,” Alfie conceded, cracking a smile as he thought about the dog.

“Your daughter’s lovely,” Tommy commented.

“She is, ain’t she?” Alfie answered, “light of my fuckin’ life, that girl…both her and her mum.”

Tommy nodded, his mind going to his wife and daughters. There was no doubt that he shared the same sentiment towards his girls.

Oh, the joys of being a girl dad…even if — or rather when, because it’ll surely happen again — Tommy and Alfie were at odds with each other, they’ll always have the shared title as something they can both relate to.

MASTERLIST

The Story of Rose and Alfie

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

@peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl

@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife

@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @jomarch-wannabe @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo