#schoolgirl alfie

[armacin]

>>> RECUEST ( they are open btw )

schoolgirl Alfie resources ;3

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[sharplette]

shakes you a little bit PLEAAASE DRAW MORE FOSTERS HOME FOR IMAGINARY FRIENDS X ALFREDS PLAYHOUSE CROSSOVER ART

HERE YOU GO <3

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AND

EGGBURT BLOO (?)

FOSTERS PLAYHOUSE!!!

[rapz-rites]

Oh Baby Pt 2

Can Reader fix the situation caused by misunderstanding and miscommunication 

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but it’s done. Enjoy 😉

Word Count: 1.7k+

Warnings: cursing, misunderstanding, hurt feelings

Part 1

“So she's cheating on me?” Anyone could hear the pain in his voice, even Jon did. 

Jon suddenly let go of you, and turned to look at Damian. He could see the pain written all over his face. Even though mind reading wasn’t a Kryptonian power, he knew what he was thinking: that you were cheating on him with him. 

You were confused. You moved over to see what Jon was looking at. That's when you saw Damian with his brothers. Now he was looking at you.

“Oh no.”

~

You could tell what he was thinking. 

‘My girlfriend and best friend went behind my back’

Gosh you so stupid. How could you have missed this. 

You started walking towards him. But after your first step, he turned and walked away. Your heart broke knowing that this was just a misunderstanding from a lack of communication.

“I think you should give him some space,” Dick said, stepping in front of you. He was blocking you so you wouldn’t see which way Damian was headed. Stupid 6 foot tall man. 

“No. I have to talk to him.” You went to move around him but he blocked your way again. He gave you a look; leave him alone for now.  

“Fine.” You said dropping your shoulders in defeat. You walk towards your car and get in. 

“So what are you going to do now?” Asked Jon. 

“I’m going to the manor to talk to Damian.” You were determined to talk to him. Though you planned on telling him everything, he has to know now. 

You dropped Layla home then headed to the manor. 

“Do you think they’ll let us in?”

Why was he asking such a ridiculous question? It didn’t matter to you if they let you in or not. You were going to talk to Damian whether he liked it or not. 

On your way to the manor, you had Jon drive as you wrote a short letter to Damian explaining everything. You put the letter in an envelope with sonogram pictures. Once you sealed the letter you put it in the brown bag with the muffins.  

Reaching the manor, you and Jon walk up the stairs to the door. You knock waiting for some to answer. 

“Hello Miss Y/N” says Alfred as he answers the door. “Master Damian is currently not taking any visitors.” 

You can tell he’s trying to be polite. Damian probably told him not to let you in. 

“It’s ok Alfred. I just have to drop something off,” you say stepping the manor. 

“Anyways I know there’s no stopping you. Also, congratulations. You’ll be great.”

“Thank you Alfie- ” You turned to look at Jon. 

“I swear it wasn’t me” Jon puts his hands up in surrender. 

“I can assure you the Kent boy didn’t tell me anything. It’s a common saying that expecting mothers glow, and you, Miss Y/N, are glowing.” You smile at the butler and make your way to Damian, bag in hand. 

Jon said he was going to try and talk to Damian’s brothers. Try to smooth things out. You wished him luck; he was going to need tons of it.

Stopping in front of his bedroom door, you knock. After a moment you don’t hear anything. As you’re about to knock again the door opens. 

It’s your boyfriend. He changed from his casual clothes to his lounge/sleepwear. He looks tired, like he was just sleeping. You can tell from his messy hair and his eyes, cold and lifeless. The first time you woke up from a nap with Damian, you were put off how dead his eyes were when he woke up.

“What do you want?” He says after giving you a once over. Suddenly all your confidence disappeared from your body. 

“I wanted to talk to you, and I got you something.” You say shyly. It’s like you were a schoolgirl talking to her crush for the first time.

He opened the door wider to let you in. He took the bag you handed him without looking at it. 

As he walked to his bed he dropped the bag on his desk without a second thought. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at you blankly. 

“What did you want to talk about?” He said coldly. He’s never talked to you like this before. No emotion, nothing. He wasn’t even looking at you, he was looking at the floor.  

You knelt down before him. He still didn’t make eye contact with you.

“About earlier- ” you couldn’t even start before Damian stopped you. 

“Don’t bother,” he said blandly. 

You put your hands on his cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

“Please believe me. I could never love Jon the way I love you. Please.” You were practically begging at this point. He held your wrist. Pulling your wrists away from him, he looked you in your eyes.

“Please go.” You could tell he meant it, wanted it. With that you left and headed home. Even though you told Jon not to, he still followed you home to make sure you were okay.

~

Later that night, everyone was unwinding after patrol. Surprisingly, Bruce let everyone off early. Everyone had changed into casual or lounge clothing, but stayed in the Cave. 

“Master Damian, this is for you. I believe it's the muffins from that cafe you like so much,” Alfred said, handing Damian the paper bag ()on a platter of course.

“I don't want it.” Damian didn't even look at the bag. He continued “If it’s from Y/N i don't want anything to do with it.”

Damn.

“Can I have them?” Jason asked. Damian didn’t care, so he just let Jason have it. 

As Jason was opening the bag he noticed the envelope. 

“Hey Demon Spawn. There’s a letter for you.”

“Throw it away. I don’t care.”

Unfortunately for Damian, Jason doesn’t listen to him majority of the time. Jason opened the letter and read its contents. After looking over it, he mentally debated how he would go about it. He could (1) make a small scene like “Hey Bruce, you’re about to be a grandpa, and not by the man slut Dick” or “The Demon Spawn is going to have demon spawns. So would they be demon spawn^2?” or (2) shove the letter in Damian’s face and force him to read it. Knowing how Damian felt he went with option 3, putting the ultrasound in his face because he would ignore the letter. 

As soon as Damian processed the ultrasound in front of him, he grabbed the letter and rushed out of the Cave. 

“What’s up with him?” Tim questioned. 

“You’ll find out soon enough” Jason responded with a smirk. He turned his head to see a tired Tim. “Damn man, you look like shit, go to bed.”

“Whatever,” Tim rolled his eyes. He knew Jason was right, but he wanted to finish what he was doing before turning in.

~

Damian was knocking on your door. He hoped you were awake. He couldn’t believe the mistake he had made, not listening to you. It was his mother and grandfather. 

‘Always expect betrayal. Trust none’ they would say to him. Even though his father and siblings taught him to have faith in people deep down he still had his grandfather's teachings engraved in him. 

Damian wasn’t surprised when he saw Jon open the door. On his way over, he quickly read the letter you wrote. You explained everything to him, from finding out about your pregnancy to Jon and Layla helping you plan how you were going to tell him. Before Jon could even get a word out, Damian spoke up.

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions before getting all my facts. I should’ve known that you or Y/N would never betray me like that.”

Jon was shocked to say the least. Jon smiled at his best friend and pulled him into a hug. Damian didn't entirely reject or reciprocate the hug, he just wanted to get to you.

“Go to her. He needs you more than ever now” Jon said before leaving your place.

Damian made his way inside your apartment until he reached your bedroom door. It was halfway open, but he still knocked.

“Come in,” you said. You knew it was Damian. You had a feeling it was him when you heard the door. Damian entered your room. He was a bit awkward, but that was expected. As you opened your mouth, Damian spoke before you.

“I'm sorry, Beloved. I’m so sorry. I know there’s no excuse for my behavior, but I hope you can forgive me because I want to be there for you and the baby.” Damian was kneeling holding your hands, practically begging at this point. 

You don’t when your eyes start tearing up, but next thing you knew a tear was running down your cheek.

“Did I make you cry? Please don’t cry. I'll do anything to make it up to you, I promise.”

“I forgive you, you big dummy” you said pulling Damian up into a hug. You didn’t realize until after a few moments that you pulled him down onto your bed. You both moved to get into a more comfortable cuddling position.

“I’m sorry I didn't tell you sooner,” you started. “I just needed time to myself to get my thoughts and feelings together.”

“That’s understandable,” said Damian. He was rubbing circles on your lower back. You were slowly drifted off to sleep. The events of today drained you.

“Bruce is going to flip when we tell him, isn't he?” you chuckled. 

“Most likely. At least my mother will most likely be pleased that we ‘sired’ an heir” he says back.

You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle. 

“Please don’t tell me she's going to try and have the baby climb a mountain at age 5, or swim from coast to coast when they're born?”

Damian couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t want to correct you, but the first time he attempted to climb a mountain he was 4, but successfully accomplished it on his second try.

“I'll see what I can do. Maybe she can wait until they’re 10” you lightly slapped his chest.

After a few moments, Damian notices your heart rate and breathing slowed down, indicating you were asleep.

“I will love you and the baby, always and forever. Even in my death, you two will be the most important people to me.” Damian kisses the top of your head before falling asleep.

I am done. This took a while but I finished it. 😁

Should I make short blurbs for this series. I was thinking of blurbs for after, not necessarily new parts but little sequels. Like a blurb of the reader giving birth and one of the babies first everything. Like that. If you’re into it lmk and I’ll do it

[ladytauria]

tauria if youre taking requests for whumpmas can i throw my hat in for sprained ankle with jaytim? i dislocated, relocated, and severely sprained my ankle two weeks ago and id love to live vicariously through jaytim comfort 😩

!! i hope your ankle is doing better, bean!! sorry this is so late ^^;

this... did not end up being very whumpy or hurt/comfort-y. but i hope you enjoy the boys being dumb <3

(also! i am always happy to take requests related to prompt lists or not <333)

>> AO3 <<

“If you’re going to boss me around like this, you could at least wear a nurse’s uniform,” Tim grouses.

His ankle is balanced on the arm of the couch and cradled in ice. Jason’s fingers caress the swollen skin before coming down to settle on his calf as he kneels next to the couch. His hand is a warm, solid weight that has no right to feel as good as it does. 

He’s joking… mostly. He’d pay a lot—and he does mean a lot—of money to see Jason in an actual sexy nurse’s costume. The short white dress, especially one of the ones with a zipper, exposing the swell of Jason’s pecs… the tight white skirt clinging to his thighs. Red boots… And a cute little cap to top it off.

Tim salivates just thinking about it.

(Although, if he was going to dress Jason in anything… The original Robin panties are at the top of the list. And then it’s a tie between a maid uniform and a schoolgirl’s.)

Jason snorts.“Tell you what,” he says. “If you follow all o’ Leslie and Alfie’s advice… I’ll wear one after you’re cleared for physical activity.”

Oh… Tempting. Very tempting. But— “You’re just saying that because you think I’ll fail,” he accuses. Otherwise, no way would his boyfriend, Jason Todd, agree to dress up in a sexy little costume for him. Tim asked him to keep his holsters on one night and the man turned into a blushing mess.

It was adorable, yeah, but it meant Jason wasn’t exactly the type to just… Offer something like that with a straight face.

“History is workin’ against you,” he agrees. A light blush steals over his face. “But, yanno. Anythin’ can happen. If… If you can follow most of their advice… I’ll wear the uniform.”

Tim hums, considering. When—not if—Tim wins, Jason will probably show up in scrubs, because he thinks he’s hilarious. (Sometimes he is, to be fair.) Jokes on him though. Tim probably wouldn’t pay quite as much money to see that, but he’d still be willing to pay an exorbitant amount.

Hnn… Just the idea of sucking Jason off through a pair of scrubs, or bending him over a bed, pulling them down so he can rim him…

Hot.

Either way, Tim wins.

“You’re on,” he says, sticking out his hand. “You want to claim something if I lose?”

Jason shakes. “Sure. If you lose, you have to do whatever I say for a week.”

“That implies I get a week of the uniform,” Tim counters.

Jason turns a brighter shade of pink, nearing red. “Three days.”

Tim smiles beatifically. “Three days,” he agrees.

He’s going to be the best patient Leslie has ever had.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

UK's Youngest Mother

Tressa Middleton was horrifically raped by her brother aged 11, while Alfie Patten has battled the bottle since claiming to have become a teenage dad. 

Growing up in a poor home in West Lothian, Scotland, Tressa watched her own mum, Tracey Tallons, struggle with drink and drug addiction. As a toddler, she cried her way through parties which stretched into the early hours.  While still a schoolgirl, seedy predators begged her for sexual favours in return for booze, cigarettes and small change - with one pervert paying her £2 for sex.

At home, there was no escape either. Tressa had a troubled relationship with her brother, Jason, whom she said could be "loving one minute and different the next".

When she was just 11, he lured her to a derelict building site near their home and horrifically raped her. Traumatised by the attack, Tressa felt unable to tell her mother about the changes she was noticing in her body a few months later. She confided in a friend who bought her a pregnancy test which confirmed her worst fears – her brother had impregnated her.

“Soon after I began noticing changes in my body,” Tressa says, “I eventually did a pregnancy test and it came up I was pregnant. I was too scared to tell my mum, so I told my aunt and then ran away. Mum was furious but she calmed down eventually."

Tressa, who had spent a lot of time in care, dared not tell her mum that Jason was the father of her unborn child.

Scared and alone, she claimed the baby was the result of a drunken liaison with a teenager and, after giving birth to a little girl in 2006, spent two years raising her alone - keeping her dark secret to herself.

Aged 14, she finally revealed the truth to a friend and Jason was arrested. But when she finally confessed the truth, she was denied contact with her child, which was taken into care. After a trial in 2009, Jason was jailed for four years after DNA tests proved he was her baby’s father.

Over the the next three years, Tressa struggled to overcome the trauma of her ordeal. In and out of care homes, she fell into a spiral of drink and drug use to numb the pain – using up to £400 of heroin a day at her lowest point.

By 2014, Tressa had got clean and was beginning to turn her life around. Now aged 19, she had fallen pregnant with her boyfriend Darren's child and was tentatively looking forward to starting a family. In a heart-breaking twist, however, she lost the baby after suffering a miscarriage - only to be told days later that mum Tracey had died.

Despite the fresh torment, Tressa stayed strong with the help of Darren and underwent counselling. They continued to try for a baby, but after months without success she began to fear she was being "punished" for letting her firstborn be taken away. However, in October 2018 Tressa and Darren welcomed an 8lb 1oz baby girl after a gruelling 24-hour labour.

[tommyspeakycap]

imagine baby shelby catching alfie solomon’s eye. alfie absolutely is smitten by this little ray of sunshine and immediately wants to know her name, and if she’d like to go out sometime. now, her brothers absolutely will not stand for this but? will little shelby listen to them? will little shelby give alfie a try? (for some reason i see alfie to be a huge and total softie with little shelby and he’s so sweet the her which confuses everyone to no end because he’s so mean to everyone else)

(baby shelby is a little older here, still tommy’s baby though)

tommy is vehemently against this. 

vehemently.

he sees the glint in alfie’s eyes he very first day, that very first moment he lays eyes on the swinging hips and glowing beauty of (y/n) shelby. 

you smile at him despite his sins, a ray of sunshine emanating from your entire being and alfie furrows his eyebrows because he’s got a wierd feeling in his chest 

and tommy recognised this immediately because he thinks it’s the same feeling that all the bad men get when they see such a pretty and pure woman. 

except alfie doesn’t want to fuck you and leave you 

he wants to hear you talk about stupid stuff just to hear your joyful and rambling babble. 

he wants to see your eyes light up the way they do when you talk about something you’re passionate about

“oi!” tommy snaps, a deep frown ingrained in his features because alfie fucking solomons has his eyes GLUED to his sisters frame

eyes following you as you skirt around the room outside of tommy’s office, picking out books and returning them 

“eyes are here, solomons.”

alfie doesn’t like this new feeling

why does his chest feel

fluttery

???

??are his hands....clammy?

“tommy i was wondering if you’d seen- oh, hello!” 

you sound like an angel 

“i’m (y/n), you must be the infamous alfie.” 

and you shake his hand

he kisses yours shakily tommy is GAWPING

but you blush and giggle like a schoolgirl

ironically, how tommy still sees you

his lil baby sister

“Yeah, that’s uh, that me alright.”

he just STUTTERED

tommy does not let that fly

“you just fucking stuttered, mate.”

he flicks ash off his cigarette while the gangster from london defiantly shakes his head 

“did fucking not, mate.”

tommy doesn’t see alfie stutter again

until the day he takes you to london in a pretty dress for a gala that he didn’t know alfie was attending and the man is rendered virtually speechles

he just squeaks embarrassingly and much to tommy’s very obvious and vocalised dismay, you pull the blushing, incredibly violent man off for a dance

and you talk and you talk

dancing the whoolllleee night away

tommy is so severely displeased by this

so he shows up at alfie’s office in the morning, very early

he wasn’t able to sleep 

but to be fair

neither could alfie

he has NEVER been this kind of man and there he was sitting in his office unable to get any work done because the feeling of gentle lips was lingering on the corner of his mouth

“stay away from my fucking sister, solomons.” tommy growls, alfie doesn’t even have a fight in him

wtf has happened how is it possible for a man like him to be literally lovestruck?????

“not gonna lie to ya tom, i don’t think that’ll be possible.”

tommy’s not sure how to handle this

alfie is an alright business partner at BEST

but you?? 

taking a liking to HIM???

that was confusion

he always thought you had an incredible sense of character judgement but now he wonders if you’re just really fucking gullible because there is no way

but he takes ONE look at the hazy bliss in your eyes when alfie solomons smiles at you and he doesn’t even know what he feels

some kind of wierd pang in his heart

heartache? pain?

he wants you to stay little forever or at least find a good man with an honest job and frankly alfie has neither of those attributes

but you’re attracted to the danger because you’ve fucking grown up with it your entire life so you aren’t afraid of him

you love him

he’s hard as nails

and you are the softest of soft

you make him feel stuff he’s never even been able to imagine feeling

and you call him sweet little nicknames

the brummie accept that had annoyed him when your brother spoke made him want to jump for joy

your gentle hands massaging his shoulders when he’s been working for hours???

=best thing in the world

the feeling of your hair in his hands, your eyes fluttering shut and his own growing heavy

he doesn’t know how he’s ever slept without you before, he truly doesn’t

you keep him calm

you’ve leveled him 

not unlike arthur and linda except in a more healthy way if that makes any sense

you’re his anchor to the world

he see’s so much more light in it 

becasue you dance

and you sing in the kitchen when you cook together

and somehow, you’re a shelby

tommy wants to hate this relationship so much

like he really really wants to detest it but he just CANT

because you make alfie more handleable 

and alfie makes you giggle

he loves the sound of your sweet giggle

who the hell would he be to take the one thing you have ALWAYS wanted away from you 

the one thing he has always wanted for you

and he is the one who alfie comes to 

looking uncharactaristically nervous, footering with his hands in his pockets

and he looks up at thomas shelby

and he says ‘hey tom,’ and tommy knows exactly what he’s going to say

“think i wanna marry your sister, mate.” 

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Hey what about Alfie were every evening after work on his walk home he sees the same girl walking to. One day she bumps into a man and he starts shouting at her so Alfie goes off at him. Then he ends up walking her home that night and every night after. And a relationship kinda develops between them. Then one night it's lashing rain and she shows up at his door upset cause the landlord had kicked her out without warning. He takes her in and maybe you could add a bit of smutty deliciousness.

//Alright so I kind of got carried away like I usually do. Since it got so long, I’m willing to do a second part just to fulfill the ending you were hoping for. Just send me another ask if you want me to continue and I’ll continue it there. Hope you enjoy this though!

            Having a routine was especially important to Alfie. If there was no routine then his whole operation could fall apart. It was just simpler to keep things on a schedule instead of cleaning up unnecessary messes.

            However, Ollie would argue that this was never his boss’s mentality. Not to say Alfie wasn’t organized, but he never had a consistent schedule. It only changed when for once, Alfie went home early.

            Not terribly early, but he was leaving the bakery before ten o’clock at night which was something rare. But work had been light that day so he decided to treat himself to an early evening at home.

            It was a bit strange walking through the streets before it was completely dark. The shops were all still open and the sidewalks weren’t as empty as they typically were later in at night.

            Cyril trotted alongside him as they headed home. But then, the bullmastiff suddenly stopped and tugged on his lead.

            “What?” Alfie grumbled and turned to see Cyril was stopped in front of a woman who was exiting the butcher’s shop. His tail wagged as he tried to sniff at the bag in her arms.

            “Oh, hello.” She giggled softly.

            “Oi, Cyril.” Alfie tried to rein in his beast of a dog. “Leave her alone. Sorry.” He apologized to her. “He ain’t got any shame.”

            “That’s alright.” She replied and met his eyes. Of course, she recognized him as Alfie Solomons. It was hard to live in a small area like Camden Town and not know about the gangster who practically owned every part of it.

            On the other hand, Alfie couldn’t quite remember if their paths had ever crossed before. He had it on good authority that he knew most of the people in the community. However, he was certain that if he had run into her before, he would never have forgotten her beautiful face.

            “He’s a very handsome dog.” She noted.

            “Oh, yeah. Well, thanks.” Alfie averted his eyes so it wouldn’t seem like he was staring.

            “Cyril, is that what you said his name was?”

            “Yeah, Cyril.” Damn it when had he ever been so tongue-tied in front of someone? It was almost embarrassing.

            She smiled and gave Cyril a rub behind the ears. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any treats for you.” She said with a smile.

            Alfie had standards. High standards, at least that’s what he liked to think. But seeing this beautiful woman being nice to his dog? Was that really enough to make him head over heels like a schoolgirl? He was seriously questioning how lonely he was.

            While he was lost in thought, the woman gave him a smile. “Have a good evening, Mr. Solomons.” She said politely before skirting around Cyril and crossing the street.

            Alfie’s lips formed to ask her a question, but his brain lagged and by the time he could get the sound out, she was already on her way around the corner.

            “Your name…” He muttered under his breath. “What’s your name?”

   ~~~~        

            “Another early night, sir?” Ollie asked as he noticed Alfie was packing up his things and grabbing Cyril’s leash off the coat rack.

            “Y’know, Ollie boy, really ain’t healthy to work yourself to death.” He replied. “We all need proper time at night to settle in before bed, right?”

            His assistant looked confused but didn’t think it was his place to really ask for clarification. “Right, sir.”

            “Good lad.” He clapped him on the back and whistled for Cyril to follow him out the door.

     ~~~      

            It was only wishful thinking that she would be in the same area as the night before. Alfie figured it was worth the shot though. At least he wanted to know her name since it was clear she knew his. That wasn’t too odd, most people knew him by name. What was baffling was that she seemed to have no issue talking to him. She didn’t just scurry away.

            It was interesting.

            Luckily for Alfie, she was there as he passed by the butcher’s shop. She was standing on the corner speaking with another woman.

            Alfie decided quickly not to interrupt them so he continued on pass as if he hadn’t seen her. Maybe it was best he didn’t know her name. The less connection there the less trouble he’d get himself into.

            He wasn’t deaf to the rumors he heard around Camden. Being associated with Alfie Solomons was a tricky subject. What else were people to think? The closer you were to a gangster, the closer you were to danger.

            Alfie knew he would only be putting his foot in his mouth if he tried to complain about it. After all, this was the image he’d cultivated for himself. The things people knew about him were probably true. Still, he was human and he craved nice things. Warm things, not cold things like money and jewels. Warmth, something severely lacking in his life.

            But he continued on home and tried to put her out of his thoughts.

~~~~ 

            Even though he’d failed the last time, he left work early again the next day. Alfie figured this would be his last try. If she wasn’t there or if he decided not to go up to her, then it wasn’t meant to be.

            But apparently, it certainly was meant to be.

            As Alfie walked down the same street, he heard someone shout.

            “Watch where you’re going!” Someone snapped.

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”  There she was standing on the same corner.

            A man was glaring her down, his hand balled into a fist. “Someone oughta teach you a lesson for being so careless.”

            Alfie didn’t need to run to the scene. He was close enough to yell out. “There a problem?”

            The man paled a bit when he saw Alfie Solomons striding towards him. “Mr. Solomons, no…no problem here.”

            “Heard ya talking to this lady here. Weren’t very nice. Is that how your mum taught you how to behave?” Alfie stopped in front of them, one hand gripping Cyril’s lead, the other resting on his cane.

            “Sorry, Mr. Solomons…”

            “Shouldn’t be me you’re apologizing to, mate.” His eyes were dark with anger. “So apologize to her or I’ll be the one teaching you a lesson.”

            “Sorry.” The man stammered out before quickly leaving before Alfie changed his mind.

            “Y’know, I didn’t catch your name last I saw you.” Alfie turned to the woman who was looking very relieved he had stepped in just in time.

            “I saw you yesterday but you didn’t stop to say hello.” She smiled at him.

            “Oh.” He looked a little guilty that she had seen him. “Well, didn’t want to interrupt your conversation. Wouldn’t be polite.”

            “Vivian.” She answered his question. “My name is Vivian.”

            “Do you want me to walk you home, Vivian?” He asked.

            She nodded. “Sure, that would be kind of you.”

 ~~~~

            What Vivian expected to be a one off thing evolved into a routine that neither she nor Alfie deviated from. She worked as a shop girl at the grocers a couple of blocks from the bakery. So, she started to meet Alfie at the bakery as he was leaving for work. From there, he walked her home.

            Alfie felt as if he was spoiling himself by spending so much time with a lovely woman. A woman who really had no business being around a man like him. But a few weeks into their arrangement, Vivian admitted that she found him very evenly tempered compared to the stories she heard about him.

            It was nice to speak to someone who looked at him differently than most others did. To her, he was just a man. Someone who took the time out of his evening to walk her home.

            Vivian confided in him that she was quite lonely. She didn’t have any family who lived locally and she worked so many hours that it was difficult to have a social life. In a way, she said, that it was just like she was merely surviving day by day. Working to keep her head afloat and going through the motions of keeping herself alive and well.

            Alfie couldn’t express enough how similarly he felt. Of course, he wasn’t struggling financially, but he couldn’t exactly retire either. He still had people out there looking for his head on a plate and they wouldn’t care whether he was retired or not. In a way, he needed to keep working to survive.

            But that conversation solidified the connection between the two of them. From then on, Alfie never felt quite as close to anyone else other than Vivian.

~~~~ 

            About a year after formally meeting, Alfie was home. He was lucky to have gotten Vivian and himself home before it began to pour. Now he was enjoying the rainy evening inside with a cup of tea by the fire.

            Until there was a banging on the door. Alfie rose and tucked his pistol into his waistband just in case.

            He opened the door to find Vivian soaked to the bone from the rain. She was crying. “Alfie, I’m so sorry, I don’t want to disturb you…”

            “S’alright.” He ushered her inside. “C’mon, get outta the cold. I’ll grab you a blanket, come sit by the fire.” He took her wet coat to hang up as she went into the parlor.

            Cyril greeted her warmly, his tail wagging happily.

            Alfie came into the room with a blanket to give to Vivian. “What’s wrong, love? Something happen?”

            “I was evicted. My landlord came in right after you left.” She tried to hold back her tears. “I can’t believe he would do this to me.”

            Alfie frowned. “Don’t worry. You’re not going anywhere.” He assured her. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

            “Oh, Alfie, thank you but I don’t want to cause any trouble. I just didn’t know where else to go tonight. I have to fetch my things tomorrow morning. I-I’m not sure where I’m going to go. I just didn’t have anyone to go to except for you.” She explained tearfully.  

            “Viv, it’s alright.” He sat down on the sofa and held out a hand for her to do the same. “You won’t need to go anywhere. Or we’ll get you into a nicer place, get you out of that shithole, aye?”

            “I can’t even afford the place I’m being evicted from, Alfie.” She sat down beside him.

            Alfie didn’t want to explicitly say he was going to buy her a new place, but he was already pretty set on the idea. Of course, what he would’ve really liked was to have her move in with him. To have her around all the time would be heaven, but that was a bridge they hadn’t crossed yet. “It’ll be just fine come morning.” He promised her. “I would never let you be out on the streets.”

            Vivian wiped her eyes and looked at him. “Alfie, I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for how kind you’ve been to me all this time. I hope you know I don’t take you for granted.”

            He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. “Love, I’m being selfish by being there for you. I should be thanking you.”

            “I don’t understand.”

            Alfie took a deep breath because he had a hunch that he was going to have to admit some feelings that he had towards her. In other words, the very things he thought he would never tell her. “You know me, you know the kind of person people think I am. Well…the kind of person they know I am. Ain’t always easy, is it? Being ‘ol Alfie Solomons, the boogeyman that parents warn their kids about.” He tried to sound humorous but it came out bitter. “Can only blame myself for it, right, but there are times when I need someone to think differently of me. Tryna fool myself into thinking I’m good by having someone else think I’m good. Make sense?”

            “I think that’s the excuse you make for yourself,” Vivian replied gently. She reached for his hand. “I think you want other people to be afraid of you. You don’t want to be vulnerable. No one gets far in life if they’re vulnerable.”

            “Hm.” He allowed her to take his hand.

            “That’s all?” She smiled slightly.         

            He shrugged. “That’s what you think. Might be right. Can’t say I’m much for analyzing or whatever. Life’s too short.”

            “You’re right.” She agreed. “Life’s too short to waste time.”

            “Yeah? What are you wasting time on?” He asked curiously.

            “Not telling you how I feel.”

            Alfie raised an eyebrow and found himself a little speechless. “Well…I’ve got all the time in the world to listen. So, if you want to stop wasting time.”

            “I like you very much. I like how happy you make me.” She admitted quietly, wondering if he was reconsidering letting her inside his home. “And I would like to know if you felt the same way because

            “Because you assumed, I were the type of man who doesn’t like affection.”

            “Because I was worried you wouldn’t allow anyone to show you affection.” She corrected. “Because I think you deserve affection, but you don’t agree.”

            Alfie felt uneasy that she was really getting to the bottom line of who he was. Most people wouldn’t even scratch the surface yet here Vivian was, digging up his long-abandoned heart.

            She clearly saw the conflict in his eyes. “So, you can tell me to leave right now, and I will.” Her hand began to withdraw from his.

            There was only so much Alfie could say to her. If he started to confess how he felt then he was afraid he would talk himself out of it. Maybe he’d talk in circles and give her plenty of reasons to leave. So the only way he could show her without compromising himself was to kiss her.

            Vivian’s hand left his so she could rest it on the nape of his neck. There wasn’t any urgency to the kiss, in fact, they both just felt relief. Relief that their self-doubt hadn’t won over. Instead, they were both being vulnerable and it was working just fine. Great, even.

            When Vivian withdrew for a breath, she cradled Alfie’s cheek in her hand. He leaned into her touch.

            “Stay.” He said in the softest tone she’d ever heard from him. “I’m begging you to stay.”

[armacin]

Helloo !! Can you makes schoolgirl Alfie form Alfred playhouse blinkies please :3??

Okay!! I will do it within a week. Sorry if this tooo long but ima have some problems rn ,,

[sharplette]

HI CHATTTTTT!!!!!

IM DOING THE EMOTION CHALLANGE THING!!! IM PROBABLY SUPER LATE BUT WHO CARESS TEEHEHEHEH

TAGGING THE FANDOMS IM IN!!!!! (ASK ME AT THE ASK BUTTON ON MY ACC OR COMMENTS IDRC :3)

(tagged characters bc yes)

[mintjamsblog]

Tommy comes to Margate again and somehow ends up playing a game of chess with Alfie despite knowing only very little about it and somehow it turns into a game of strip chess and Tommy pretends to be Very Mad About It.

This one rather got away from me I’m afraid....

First of all, Tommy is good at chess. Very good. I mean it’s a game that requires strategy and subterfuge, that requires a player to think at least ten steps ahead. Tommy was born for it. He hasn’t, however, played it all that often. Certainly not as often as Alfie has played it lately. Well, you have a lot of time on your hands when you’re dead. He has one board set up in the corner just for an ongoing game between him and Olly. They play via the telephone, mostly, the odd half hour when he visits, but mostly it’s calls. They keep a careful track of each others’ place via grid references. Alfie’s even taken to playing with the delivery boy from the grocery shop on occasion, when he’s craved something a little more intellectually stimulating than shooting birds. 

Which is why it is particularly galling when Tommy has wiped out one bishop, a knight and a rook within the first two dozen moves. 

But Alfie can bide his time because he is nothing if not patient. The exact opposite of Tommy. Tommy is playing like he cannot get this game over with quick enough. Which is not the point with chess, now, is it? And the thing is Alfie can see it coming. Can see him getting cocky, so fucking sure of his abilities that his concentration is slipping. A lot like what happened with that fascist to be honest, and that didn’t end well. 

He can sense Tommy’s growing impatience as he slowly considers his next move. He’s not going to rise to it, Tommy came here so Tommy can damn well wait, but an idea is brewing in his mind.

”Alfie, just play your next move.”

Alfie just strokes at his beard. Another few minutes pass.

“Stop stroking your chin and get on with it.”

“My chin, yeah. One of the few bits of my face left undamaged. Quite fond of it as it happens.” 

“Alfie, just play your goddam move or I’m gonna play it for you. S’fuckin’ obvious.”

“Did you know that chins, right, are uniquely human?”

Tommy just raises his eyebrows in a gesture that says what the fuck? He doesn’t actually roll his eyes, but he’d like to, Alfie can tell.

“Not even our nearest relatives, the apes, possess a bony protuberance beneath their teeth, which is interesting bec….” he doesn’t finish the sentence because Tommy has got out of his chair, reached over to Alfie’s side and moved his remaining knight to cover his queen. It has left Alfie, unusually, speechless. I mean it was exactly the move Alfie was going to make, eventually, but that doesn’t make what Tommy’s done any less mother-fucking rude.

“Well that is just very unsporting Tommy. Very fucking unsporting indeed. Gonna have to be some sort of penalty for that.”

Tommy is leaning back in his chair again with an amused expression on his face. He purses his lips and looks out of the doors momentarily and when he turns back he actually has the semblance of a smile on his face. “A penalty?” he says, reaching for his cigarettes.

“Yeah, mate. A penalty,” he repeats, feigning interest in the horizon for a moment. “A forfeit, if you will.”

“What kind of penalty, Alfie?”

“Think you’re gonna have to lose something, Tommy. Let me see. The jacket should do it.”

“Alfie, it’s fucking chess. I’m not taking my clothes off.”

“And the waistcoat, yeah. That can go too.”

“I’m not taking anything off unless you take one of my pieces.” 

“Oh yes you are, mate,” he says, voice low and gravelly now, because he’s fucking onto something here.

There’s a long pause. Tommy’s lighting a cigarette but his eyes don’t stray an inch from Alfie’s. “Fine then,” he says suddenly. He clamps the cigarette between his teeth and roughly shrugs off his jacket, undoes his waistcoat. “S’not gonna help you win though,” he says, reaching over and playing his next move, swiftly.

Alfie surveys the board for a long time. He knows exactly what move he’s going to make but he’s enjoying Tommy’s agitation. Eventually he leans forward and takes one of Tommy’s pawns. “Shoes,” he says, without looking up.

He listens as Tommy reaches down and angrily undoes his laces. He mutters something indistinguishable as he kicks of the brogues before returning to the game in hand. He moves his queen.

Alfie cracks his knuckles loudly and then switches his king with his remaining rook.

“You can’t do that,” Tommy immediately interjects.

“Fuckin can mate, it’s called castling.”

“I know what it’s called, Alfie, but you can’t do it. You’ve already moved your king.” He’s goddam right of course, sharp as a knife that boy, but Alfie’ll be damned if he’s gonna admit it.

“No I haven’t,” he immediately replies.

“Alfie, you did it right at the start, when you were in check.”

“Nah, you’re dreaming it, mate. Must be getting on a bit, losing your memory.”

“I am not fucking dreaming it. Alfie you…”

“Trousers,” Alfie growls.

“You what?”

“Trousers. Off.”

“I came here, believe it or not, to talk business.”

“Oh, did you now? And you’ve never talked business without your trousers on, hmm?”

Tommy has the decency to blush slightly at that statement. Whilst looking endearingly pissed off.

“Stop complaining like some schoolgirl who’s been outsmarted by the class bully. Miss, miss, she cheated,” he mimics in a high pitched voice, which makes the change of tone that follows all the more effective. “Get them fucking off.”

The mocking has the desired effect; Tommy stands up and churlishly removes his woollen slacks, throwing them furiously over towards the fire.

Before he has a chance to sit back down Alfie tips up the chess board and lets all of the pieces slide noisily to the floor.

“Fucking hell, Alfie.” Tommy huffs. He looks genuinely exasperated, angry even, which is rather satisfying on a number of levels.

Oh dear, looks like you’ve lost a few more pieces,” Alfie says, voice ludicrously sincere. ��Shorts,” he says, nodding decisively towards Tommy’s pelvis. 

Tommy glares at him furiously but Alfie can see the cogs whirring, weighing up the options. He slides out of the cotton underwear until he’s gloriously naked from the waist down. Well, apart from the socks and garters, but that all rather adds to the effect. 

“Now get the fuck over here and pick those up,” Alfie orders. When Tommy hesitates he decides to add a little incentive. “And if you’re a good boy, I won’t have to belt you while you’re down there. Be terribly hard to explain those noises to the nurse. She’s only in the parlour.”

Tommy drops to his knees at that, starts picking up the pieces as Alfie unbuttons his own trousers. He slaps them carelessly back on the coffee table where they proceed to roll off all over again. Alfie watches for a moment, amused, but impatience finally gets the better of him.

“For fucks sake, just get over here, I have something else you can attend to.”

Then he reaches over and grabs Tommy roughly by the hair, forcing him to crawl the last few inches towards the edge of the sofa.  He pulls Tommy’s face into his groin and leans down to glare. 

“Don’t worry, love, you’re still good for something,” he coos as he forces his half hard cock into Tommy’s mouth. “And you can fucking look at me while you’re warming my cock.”

Tommy lets out a muffled groan of frustration, as Alfie’s intention becomes clear. He starts to lick underneath the head and suck his cheeks in. Alfie grips his chin, hard  and tilts him upwards slightly. “Did you misunderstand me Tommy? I want you to warm my cock. Not suck it.” Tommy stills his tongue obediently, his eyes burning with absolute fury.

“There, there,” Alfie tuts, tapping his cheek gently as he settles himself back against the sofa. “A little lesson in patience will do you the world of good, Thomas.” He reaches for the book on his side table and proceeds to read to himself.  He can feel Tommy’s breath pulsing, sharp and fast, against his pubic bone. It’s like a gift from the fucking gods. 

Ten minutes have passed before Tommy dares to protest. He licks again, long and slow, and it takes considerable restraint on Alfie’s part not to rut straight into his mouth. He doesn’t. Instead he reaches down and slaps Tommy’s cheek, daring him to try again. 

When another ten minutes have passed he shifts his hips slightly, reminding the man at his feet that he is still watching. “D’you know, I fancy a cup of tea, Tommy,” he says innocently. Tommy moves as if to pull back but is swiftly held in place with a ringed hand in his fringe. “No need for you to move, lovely, I have staff for that, even here. Nurse!” he shouts abruptly. “We’ll take tea, in the living room please.”

“Right you are Mr Solomons,” comes the reply from deep in the house. 

And if Tommy looked furious before he looks downright livid now. Or maybe it’s terrified. Hard to tell when he’s on his knees with a cock in his mouth. “You stay where you are for the next five minutes and I’ll let you get up before she comes in,” he says, without releasing his hair. “Can I trust you Tommy?” he asks quietly. “Because good boys get a reward?”

Tommy nods, just barely, cheeks flushing at the promised praise. The minutes tick by achingly slowly, Alfie feigning deep concentration in his book. When he hears footsteps approaching down the corridor he bucks his hips, signalling Tommy’s freedom to move. Alfie simply places his open book over his lap and smirks as Tommy scrabbles desperately for his clothes. There isn’t time, of course, he’s still on his knees when the nurse arrives, almost hiding behind the sofa.

“Don’t mind him, he knocked over the board,” Alfie offers, charmingly. “Just picking up the pieces aren’t you, Mr Shelby? My back’s not up to it you see.”

The nurse’s eyes flicker towards Tommy just briefly, and if she notes his state of undress she ignores it. “And you can go now, dear, once that’s poured,” Alfie says, “No need to stay until eight.”

When she leaves the room Tommy glares at him through gritted teeth, his entire face flushed red. “You fucking, fucking, cunt…”  he hisses, but somehow they’re on each other within seconds, kissing deeply, angrily. And when the front door closes, the nurse has left, they stumble into the bedroom like a pair of desperate teenagers. The sex is hard and angry and satisfying, Tommy bent over the edge of the bed as Alfie slams into him, telling him how well he has done. When they later move onto the bed Tommy takes out his frustration on Alfie’s back, nails scraping hard and deep. It only spurs Alfie on to fast, to harder, which is no doubt exactly what he intended. They come together in a medley of grunts and curses and teeth and nails that finishes with a crushing embrace. 

“Haven’t seen you so angry at me in a long time,” Alfie mumbles.

“You’re a cheat and a bastard,” Tommy replies as he lights a cigarette.

"I know. That's why you love me."

“She could fucking tell anyone.”

“Who, Dorothy?” 

“Don’t give her a fucking name, that just makes it worse."

“She’s partially sighted ,” Alfie says, biting at a nail. “Can see fuck all bar what’s under her nose.”

Tommy slaps him so hard across his chest that it really should hurt, but all he can do is laugh. And laugh. And reach over to kiss Tommy gently. “Did as you were told, anyway though, didn’t you? Such a good boy.”

“Fuck off,” is all Tommy can say.

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

Gold Digger - Chapter 7 | Gwilym Lee x OFC

A/N: Enjoy, folks!

Warnings: The usual, you know. 

Word Count: ~2K

The Playlist (Updates Regularly)

Chapter List:  Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Lizzie seemed to be floating on a cloud of bright pink cotton candy the next day. The tulips, stuffed bear, and expensive chocolates Gwilym got for her were a constant reminder of the night she shared with Gwilym. The night came to a gentlemanly end with a good night kiss at her doorstep. After the kiss, they promised to talk as soon as they're both up and about the next day. For the first time in a long time, Lizzie slept in until just before the clock struck noon. She stumbled out of her bedroom, rubbing groggily at her eyes. 

"Fancy chocs you got there," Shelly said with a knowing smirk. "I take it the date with Prince Charming went well?" 

"How did you know...?" Lizzie's brows knotted. "You were working! I was still in pajamas when you left!" 

"Expensive chocolates? Red tulips? The smell of exquisite cologne?" Shelly counted off clues. "This luxuriously soft fucking teddy bear?" 

"Ugh." Lizzie shook her head. "Yes. We went out on a date." 

"He still 'round?" Shelly asked as she popped a piece of sushi in her mouth and looked over Lizzie's shoulder.

"Nope," Lizzie popped the P, "kissed me at the door and left." 

"Gross." Shelly rolled her eyes. "God, what a gentleman!" 

"Most girls would be swooning at that." 

"Oh, I know." Shelly snorted. "You're definitely falling for the chivalrous spiel." 

"It's not a spiel, Shells," Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest, "it's just who he is." 

"He wants to fuck you just as much as the next guy," Shelly stated. "Might as well milk it for all it's worth." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"I'm going to New York," Shelly announced out of the left field. "Joe's paying." 

"What?" Lizzie's eyes shot open. 

"Yeah." 

"Shells, that's..." 

"Awesome?" Shelly offered.

"Slaggish." 

"Meh." Shelly shrugged. "I'm just taking advantage of an opportunity. As should you." 

______

Gwilym exhaled a cloud of smoke and breathed in the herbal scent surrounding him. He leaned his head back and passed the spliff over to Ben, closing his eyes lazily.

"So it went well, overall?" Ben asked before sucking on the blunt and inhaling deeply. He held his breath for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. "Jamie and Clara scenario aside?"

"Splendid."

"Did you buy her flowers?" Ben's face broke in a lazy grin. "Man, this stuff is good."

"Only the best for my baby," Gwil cooed jokingly. "Yeah, and a bunch of other stuff."

"What?"

"You know... candy, a teddy. Nothing too fancy."

"Gwil, I know you. It was fancy, for a fact." Ben remarked and passed the spliff back to Gwilym.

"She deserves nice things." Gwilym shrugged. "She was very reluctant to receive my gifts, I'll give her that."

"Too reluctant, maybe?" Ben raised an eyebrow, his eyes getting squintier as the high took over him.

"She's not in it for the money and fame," Gwilym said before taking a hit.

"How would you know?" Ben asked.

"Where's this coming from?" Gwilym wondered. He blinked slowly at Ben. "Are you getting paranoid now?"

"No, mate," Ben shook his head quickly and took the spliff from his best friend, "I'm just wondering if maybe her intentions aren't as pure as you think they are. Remember how we all thought Clara was this sweet baby angel, and she's literally sleeping with Satan?"

"Satan? He was a witness at your original wedding!" Gwil laughed. "What's with the Clara hostility I'm sensing?"

"Not hostility. Clara's just a bit..."

"Cunty."

"Yeah," Ben snorted. "She's obviously jealous."

______

"She's in it for the money, you know," Clara said over Rory's head as they sat on the floor and played with stickers. "It's so obvious."

"What?" Annie looked away from Alfie, attached to her breast, at her best friend. "What are you on about?"

"Merrida."

"Stop calling her that!" Annie giggled. "You're evil."

"I'm a pure baby angel."

"You're a devil!" Annie countered and looked down at Alfie, stroking his chin softly. "What makes you think Lizzie's not into Gwil for Gwil?"

"She flirted with Jamie, right in front of his face, for starters," Clara muttered.

"You reckon?" Annie snorted. "Jamie must've flirted with her, first."

"Shut up."

"Are you jealous?" Annie taunted.

"No!" Clara reacted animatedly. "I have nothing to be jealous of. I'm with my soulmate now."

"Oh, God, don't call him that." Annie gagged mockingly. "You two are just mutual rebounds, remember?"

______

'You can't still be sleeping!'

Lizzie looked down at her phone and smiled brightly. She hadn't texted Gwilym since they parted ways the previous night. At first, it was because she slept in till noon, and then it was because she couldn't stop thinking about their date. Then, she went shopping with Shelly for her trip to New York. She didn't expect Gwilym to text her first.

'I'm up, don't worry.'

She was just about to put her phone down when it started ringing in her hand.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty," Gwilym drawled.

His voice made her feel like her bones are turning into liquid. She had to sit down as she giggled like a schoolgirl. "Hiya, Gwil."

"How did you sleep?"

"Splendid," Lizzie laid on her back, "and you?"

"With a smile on my face."

"Good. Did you enjoy our date?"

"Is that a trick question?" Lizzie twirled a curl around her finger. "Because you know I bloody did."

"Just making sure," Gwilym chuckled. "Is it too soon to ask for another one?"

"A bit, yeah," Lizzie smiled. "Plus, I don't know how you'll top that one."

"Oh, I have the resources to blow your mind, love," Gwilym said teasingly.

"I, uh..." Lizzie fumbled for words as she felt another flock of butterflies flapping their wings in her tummy.

"How about just a casual hang out, then?" Gwilym suggested.

"That sounds good."

"Great," Gwilym smiled triumphantly as he rounded a corner. "Are you free now?"

"Well, yes."

"Good, because I'm right here."

"What?" Lizzie sat up in a scramble and looked at her pajama-clad body and messy, unwashed hair. "What do you mean you're here? Here where?"

Her question was answered by the doorbell. She trotted over to the door and flung it open to reveal Gwilym standing there with a dopey smile, holding the phone to his ear.

"Hello," He looked down at her awestruck face and hung up the call.

"Hey," she breathed before his arms rounded her waist and pulled her to him for a searing kiss. "I thought we said this will be casual!"

"It was a casual kiss!" He winked and pecked her lips again, his beard tickling her. "Is that better?"

"Mhm," Lizzie nodded and started walking backward, leading him into her flat. "Shelly's home."

"Shelly!" Gwilym bellowed over Lizzie's head. "Show yourself!"

Shelly's bedroom door opened with a slam, and she came flying out, panting.

"Holy shit!" She gasped. He was even more handsome in person. "Holy shit!!!"

"Nice to meet you finally." Gwilym extended a hand for her to shake. "Joe sends his love."

"This is surreal," Lizzie noted and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "Is it alright if I take a shower? I feel a bit... yucky."

"And leave me alone to be interrogated?" Gwilym feigned fear.

"And he's funny, too?!" Shelly squealed. "God!!!”

______

Gwilym's face was beet red. He wasn't sure at first if he saw things correctly. Shelly had left to run some errands, and he was alone in the living room when he saw movement from the corner of his eye. He glanced over and saw Lizzie bare backside - and bum - hurriedly receding down the corridor into her bedroom. Her towel had slipped. If he had blinked, he probably would have missed it - but he didn't blink. Nor did he lose it. He felt his mouth starting to water and an inconvenience in his trousers. Gulping, he took his phone out and opened up his WhatsApp.

'I just saw her bum.'

'Gwil, sweets, if you're having sex, we don't need a play-by-play.' Joe replied to the group chat.

'Fr, though!' Ben added.

Gwilym groaned and tossed his phone on the coffee table, sinking lower on the sofa and rubbing his thighs. He willed his erection to stop growing before Lizzie emerges from her bedroom. He tried to think of anything sad he could possibly come up with, and it seemed to have worked - until her voice broke him out of his trance.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She lilted as she rounded the sofa and sat on the other end of it, leaning down to take the telly's remote control. "Netflix?"

"Ehm..." Gwilym gulped when her bum was in full view again, this time covered up. He took a throw pillow and hugged it in his lap. "Sure."

"You alright?" Lizzie reached over and placed a hand on his forehead. "You look a bit flushed."

"No, no, I'm fine," Gwilym reassured. "Just..."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah," Gwilym nodded and shifted in his seat. Lizzie's eyes darted down to the strategically placed throw pillow and felt her heart make a freefall right down to her knickers. "Netflix, please."

"Right." She sighed and shook her head slightly. They settled on a film, rather than a series, and got comfortable. Gwilym's arm rested on the back of the sofa and around Lizzie's shoulders. Lizzie leaned her head back on his bicep and tucked her feet under her. Her slightly damp hair felt cool on Gwilym's skin as the dampness seeped through his shirt.

_______

Gwilym and Lizzie woke up in the middle of the night, slightly disoriented. Her head rested in the dent between his shoulder and pec, her hand wrapped around his tummy. His hands were wrapped around Lizzie, his chin resting on the top of her head as the TV turned from the movie they recently played to Netflix's home screen. Blinking slowly, Lizzie looked up at Gwilym with a lazy smile.

"Hey, beautiful," Gwilym murmured and kissed the top of Lizzie's head.

"Hi," she whispered back, her hand traveling up to rest on Gwilym's chest. "Time's it?"

"Well," Gwilym unwrapped one arm to look at his watch, "it's just a quarter past one."

"Oh, no..." Lizzie whined and buried her face in Gwilym's chest. "God, I wish I didn't have to work tomorrow."

"Yeah?" Gwilym grinned.

"Yeah." Lizzie sighed. "If I could never work another day in my entire life again..."

They sat in silence as Gwilym let Lizzie's last comment sink in. That, combined with Ben and Clara's concerns that Lizzie's intention may be impure, made him slip into a pensive mood. He cracked his knuckles as his tired mind got lost in thought while Lizzie quietly traced circles and lines up and down his left pec. A big yawn brought him back out from his own head, and he looked down at Lizzie's sleepy face.

"Liz, I think I'll go..." he whispered and lifted her chin with his fingers. "It really is getting late."

"You could... I mean," Lizzie looked at him, wide-eyed, "you could maybe spend the night if you want to?"

"Maybe some other time?" He stroked her cheek and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

_______

TAGLIST: @filmslutt @lose-you-to-find-me @sonic-volcano  @nosferatyou @rogertaylorin1976 @mrhoemazzello

[jingle-bones]

THE LAVENDER HILL MOB (Dir: Charles Crichton, 1951).

A classic comedy from the golden age of the Ealing Studios.

Mild mannered bank clerk 'Dutch Holland' (Alec Guinness) concocts a daring gold bullion robbery. Engaging the help of souvenir maker Al Pendlebury (Stanley Holloway) they execute the crime and disguise the gold in the form of miniature Eiffel Towers. However, things do not go to plan when a casement of the souvenirs is accidentally opened and sold to group of British schoolgirls.

Released the same year as The Man in the White Suit (Alexander Mackendrick), The Lavender Hill Mob is less satirical, but equally humorous as it gleefully sends up Ealing’s own popular crime dramas such as The Blue Lamp (Basil Dearden, 1951) and Pool of London (Basil Dearden, 1951). Director Charles Crichton effortlessly apes the quasi-documentary realist approach of those movies. The heist itself is as thrilling as it is humorous and makes excellent use of its real life London backstreets and warehouse locales. Crichton also manages to out Hitchcock Hitchcock with a vertigo inducing sequence which sees Guinness and Holloway make a dizzying descent down the steps of the Eiffel Tower. Significantly for a British film of the era, it was rewarded by the American Academy, winning the Best Original Screenplay Oscar for TEB Clarke’s excellent script.

As the criminal mastermind with the meek exterior, Guinness delivers another excellent performance; eliciting audience sympathy for a character which could have easily evoked apathy. Stanley Holloway is equally effective in the less showy role of co-conspirator. They make for a winning comedy team here, ably supported by Sidney James and Alfie Bass as fellow Mob members.

The Lavender Hill Mob made more impact internationally than any other Ealing film. Its theme of longing to escape from day to day drudgery is clearly a universal one. Like the best of the Ealing comedies it has hardly dated, despite its obvious post-War trappings.

Excelling in all areas: writing, directing and acting, The Lavender Hill Mob is another Ealing masterpiece.

Check out my blog JINGLE BONES MOVIE TIME for a longer, more in-depth review of The Lavender Hill Mob! Link below.

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires Pt.7

Title & Song: Making A Fool Of You

Characters: Alfie Solomons x OFC

Word Count: 2000+

Summary: Genevieve Durand is a force to be reckoned with. An intelligent, independent and brutal businesswoman. When she moves to London for a new chapter in her life, she finds herself very interested in the friends the father of her godson has found himself in business with. But where does the line go between personal and professional?

A/N: Every chapter of this story will have a song to work as the title and as a soundtrack. Chapter song is Making A Fool Of You by Homeshake. All text in italics is spoken in French.

Part 1: Thieves & Kings.- Pt. 2 Conquest - Pt. 3 Nail In My Coffin - Pt. 4 - 60 Feet Tall Pt. 5 I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor Pt. 6 Stop The World Pt. 8 l’amour et la violence

My Masterlist.

Warnings: Language.

Tags! Let me know if you’d like to be added or dropped! Thanks!

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer​ @cosettewinchester​ @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog​ @brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @iliveonchocolateandnetflix

You sit perched in the middle of your sunlight flooded painting room. Your red silk robe barely tied around your waist, the only thing protecting your naked skin from the colder air of the room.

"Still sitting in the sun like a cat I see?" Agatha, your head maid, who had worked in your family's summer home in France since you were a child enters the room.

"Yes. I find myself to be so disconsolate today, Aggie." you sigh. Your hand pushes the brush into a mixed pile of paint on your palette.

"And what's the cause of this, dear?" she pats your back as she crosses the room.

"I am inclined to say I do not know but I feel that isn't exactly true." you sigh, feeling entirely too clouded, your eyes wide with annoyance at your worry for your possibly prophetic dreams.

"Another vision then?" she says this like she already knows the answer.

"Oui." you nod and groan, looking out the window dramatically, feeling sorry for yourself for a moment. "Was this one you sought out or one that came to you?" she grabs a teacup off the low table in front of your fainting couch.

You let out a heavy sigh. "A man at the ball I feel means to harm Mr. Solomons and I do not know if he takes my advice as seriously as I feel he should."

"Much like a man." Aggie says with a chuckle, you frown, your eyes following her round form around the room as she stacked teacups up on top of the other as they'd accumulated over the past few days.

"Yes." you sigh again. "I suppose I was incorrect to expect more from a man like him. Blame that one on my mother." you pout, plopping your brush into a paint covered teacup with murky water in it. Aggie nods, holding your chin. "That is your mother's voice you hear in your head on that account dear. Listen to her." she releases your chin with a nod. "No matter the religion, they are still only men, aren't they?" she says with a smile and a shrug.

"Are we finally back to complaining about men instead of sitting around like we're back in the war? Worrying, staring out the windows all day waiting for something bad to happen?" she says exasperated, nodding to Agatha as she rolls her eyes at your moping.

"I won't apologize for being concerned over clear visions of death surrounding someone that I care about." you say flatly, straightening your back and narrowing your eyes at her.

"Oh, do we CARE about him now? I shall write that down in the diary." she says with a shake of her head.

"Now Claire, she may be a killer, but she is not a monster." Agatha says in a teasing tone. "She can't help if she was born under a sun and moon full of emotion." she adds factually as she heads out of the room.

"Aggie empathizes." you say your voice and face full of attitude. "And Besides! Apart from my boys, he's the only man to not be disrespectful to me based on my being a woman in this business since I've moved here." you state, your muscles tensing in frustration. "So yes, I do care if he lives or dies." he say loudly, your arms slapping your bare thighs to punctuate your point. "I'd like it if you didn't act like I've got some fucking schoolgirl crush." you cross your arms and pout menacingly.

"No need to raise your voice, Gen." she says scoldingly, patronizing you as she's rolling her eyes.

"If you would stop trying to make my emotions not valid they wouldn't be forced to overcompensate and overflow in these sorts of ways!" you shout your arms falling to your sides. "I also can't help how the full moon is fucking with my emotions and giving me these damned dreams that make me feel like a mad woman." you rush out, groaning in annoyance. "I find myself consumed by frustration at this entire situation." you say quietly, the anger starting to be replaced by melancholy.

"You're consumed by frustration because you've stopped all your vices for it since moving here." Claire state obviously in her frustration at you self-pity, turning to leave the room, giving you an observation she knew you needed to be reminded of. "In the past if you acted like this I'd tell you to go get fucked, but mean it literally." This is the longest she'd seen you go without sex in the over a decade of years she'd known you. You hadn't done much drinking or partying since you'd moved. You stuck to wine in liquors usual place. Business meetings got you out of the house instead of all-nighters in clubs in the city. She knew you were trying to calm your life down a bit from your wilder days in Berlin and Paris but she also knew those parts of you ran so deep that you pretending like they didn't exist was just going to backfire and she didn't want to be around when you burned the estate to the ground in a fit of frustration.

"Oh, fuck off." you groan loudly after her, you hear her laughing as she heads down the hallway, knowing she's right. You slouch and your anger fades quickly as look over to the nude male statue in the corner of the room, opposite the female one, the corner of your mouth pulled back as your eyes look it up and down. "UGH!" you groan loudly as you take a paint-splattered sheet off a chair and throw it over the statue. ---------------- It'd been a week since the ball and you hadn't heard anything. You'd sent Joseph to town for your favorite little pastries so he could give you any news he heard. You heard nothing for days. You assumed this was both a good and bad thing. No news was not bad news, after all. But it was the good news you were after.

"Genevieve." Claire says already annoyed with your low mood today. "No man is worth this worry. Should I just call him to end this suffering you're putting us all through along with you?" she walks next to you, perched in a random room in the guest wing, sitting on a tufted velvet cushion on a bench that sat beneath a large window, looking out onto the forest and hills. You turn your head to her, you move your eyes up slowly and she exhales noisily at your tired face. "Hmmm?" you ask quietly, your face fallen completely.

"Have you even slept?" Claire asked, moving her hands to your shoulders.

"No. I tried and the dreams became more and more disturbing." your voice is soft and flat. "I don't want to deal with them anymore." you mumble. You do as Claire physically directs, moving you out of the room towards your own.

"You are going to go take one of your little night vials and you're going to sleep this off." she says slowly, hoisting you around to move quicker.

"No, Claire." you whine, your feet dragging, your brow furrowed.

"Then what do you want to do, huh? Do you want to never sleep again? Is that your plan?" she says exasperatedly. It'd been a week of this moody blues funk you'd fell into out of nowhere. "Because it's a shit plan," she says obviously, grabbing your arm and you move reluctantly but willingly. You groan as she shoves you into your room. "You're good to no one without your rest." she says, her voice less harsh.

"Don't treat me like a child. You don't know what they're like, Claire, I don't want to be stuck in those dreams." you say loudly, your hands falling to your sides heavily, your shoulders slumping.

"Then stop your crying and fix this problem or I will have Aggie hold you down and give you something to make you sleep." you says, fixing her shirt hastily.

You glare at her and plop onto the bed. "I'm not crying. Which is honestly surprising at what hour of consciousness I am on at this point." you let out a yawn as you sink into the bed.

She scolds, pulling the curtains of the canopy down and around your bed. "Like a little bird." Claire tsks, "Put the sheet over your gilded cage and you'll shut up." she says in a more playful and less hateful way as you frown as the last light from the daylit room disappears. You cuddle into your breast and chirp in the comfort or the bed and fall asleep.

----------------- You awake and it's dark. Your eyes snap open. You had exhausted yourself and your sleep had shown you dreams of him but with nothing bad attached. Just him, floating about in dark water alone. You groan and stretch, rolling about the bed. You peak your head out of the curtains before pulling one to the side and tieing it back.

The full moon's light comes in from your window, the curtains not being touched since you fell asleep. You stand in the middle of the towering window, letting the moonlight seep into your pores, you let out a long sigh and move to an armoire in your room. You open it to find your oils. You change your silk robe for one more substantial. You pile things into your pockets, your robe untied, your maribou tipped, soft-soled shoes carry you, almost mindlessly through the rows of raspberries, your labyrinth to get to your sanctuary in the middle.

"I saw her going into the garden, practically naked with a bottle of rum in her hand, ma'am." the newest maid softly says, reporting to Claire that you'd woken up.

"I expected as much." Claire says, chewing on her thumbnail, her feet kicked up on the dining room table as she reads by the fire.

"This isn't concerning at all?" the young maid says, uncertainty in her voice and Claire lets out a loud laugh and pats the girl's arm to comfort her.

"None of us have anything to fear from Genevieve, dear. She may have habits you've been raised to be frightened by but her heart is always in the right place." she grins, it'd been awhile since you'd hired any new house workers and she'd forgotten how eccentric you appear to others who didn't know you as well. "Speak to her at the next kitchen meeting, you'll find her very warm to you, I'm certain."

"She has been, very much so. I'm afraid I'll be full of stupid questions until I can accustom myself with the home and those who live in it. But may I inquire as to what she's doing out there in the rows?" she says meekly, not wanting to step out of her bounds.

"Going out to her secret garden to do some of her grandmother's old world medicine to get rid of those dreams she finds herself imprisoned by, I imagine." she says casually, her eye returning back to her book.

"And this is good?" the girl responds with wide eager eyes.

"Yes, dear, it means she's finally stopped letting it happen to her and is now getting back her control of the situation." she nods, chewing her bottom lip, relieved you were finally snapping out of it and getting back to being the reasonable, logical, power source she preferred you as. You were out in the outskirts of your rows of berries, among the iris's in your spherical space of hanging flowers and willows, your stone bench and small viewing pool the only other pieces taking up the space besides you. You drink a good few big swigs of his rum, connecting yourself to him.

"You better be worth all this fucking trouble, Solomons." you grumble quietly, sighing with a furrowed brow at how you'd gotten yourself into this mess, now to try to get yourself, and him, out of it. You light your candle and begin what Claire had assumed, but you try to focus specifically on protecting Alfie as you begin to rub the oils into your skin and try to center your mind.

Pt. 8 L’amour et la violence

[blinder-s]

Rose Garden / Part Two

YO SO I HOPE U ALL LIKED THE FIRST PART BC THERES MORE COMING :-) (so i mean it sucks if u didnt)

thank u for liking it !!!! it rly means a lot life is shite nd this is what makes me feel happy so I’m gna do it more lol HOPE U ENJOY - evie XX

words: 1,302

warnings: none!

gif creds to the owner! :))))

The next couple of weeks in the library were fairly mundane and boring. You spent most of the time with Helen, gossiping about whoever she had a crush on that week and how she hated men and so on and so on. Your boss had returned the following day, so you hadn’t been expected to go and collect any fines, which was a shame since it was slightly more interesting than stacking or issuing books.

“Emillie?” You heard your boss shout from the front desk, as you and Helen were hidden behind the religion section giggling like schoolgirls, “could you come and help me please?” 

You rolled your eyes to your ginger-haired friend, who stuck her tongue out at you, before heading over to the checkout desk, where your elderly boss was drowning in customers. You hadn’t even noticed how many people were in the library, though you and Helen were sharing your sexual exploits behind the Bible.

You took your space next to Tim, your boss, and began issuing books out to customers, “name please?” You called out, not bothering to move your head up to the man in front of you. It had become a habit, but you were far too tired to smile for five hours on end.

“Alfred Solomons,” he replied, a familiar voice grumbled above you. You took his card, and looked up and the boasting figure stood before you, “nice to see you again, Emillie.”

“You too, Mr Solomons,” you said, stamping the due date in his book. One you had never expected to see a man of his characteristics read; Pride and Prejudice. You looked up at the man, an eyebrow raised.

Alfie noticed your gaze and coughed slightly, embarrassed, “I thought I’d start with the classics.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, trying to cover his flushed cheeks.

“It’s my favourite,” you said honestly, biting your lip to stop the smile from breaking out on your face. His mouth broke out into the widest smile you’d ever seen on a man in your life, as you looked at him through your lashes. You continued to stamp the return date of the book on the front; a weeks time.

“I’ll let you know how I get on, Emillie,” he picked up the book carefully and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket, careful not to tear any pages.You grinned as you watched him leave, even thinking that his back looked attractive. 

You were quickly snapped out of your thoughts as Helen came waltzing past, a knowing grin plastered on her face. “Who was he?” She asked, cocking her left eyebrow and leaning one elbow on the wooden desk. Helen’s poker face stayed stationary until you lost the unofficial game of chicken.

You sighed, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, “he’s the owner of a bakery in town.”

“And?” She pressed, her green eyes sweeping over your uncomfortable demeanour. Tim, an elderly man of over eighty, just looked at you back and forth before rolling his eyes and dismissing you both to stacking books in the far corner of the building.

You busied yourself, hoping Helen had forgotten about how you were sat staring at the back of a man you barely knew. But her face popping up in between two cookery books told you that she hadn’t.“I met him when I went to go and collect a fine last week, remember?” You explained, placing a book next to where her head was resting on the shelf. She coughed, expecting you to continue. “There’s nothing else to say, Helen.” She looked at you, an unimpressed smirk displayed on her face, and you groaned, “Helen! I’ve only met the man twice!”

“Do you like him?” She pressed, urging you to spill your inner most thoughts- something you weren’t all that comfortable doing.

“I hardly know him!” You marvelled, cautious about keeping the volume down. You especially didn’t need Tim on your back, not with Helen already doing your head in, 

“Yes, but do you fancy him?” Helen nagged, wandering to shelve a book away in the non-fiction section.

“I think he’s quite attractive,” conceding, you shook your head at your best friend’s triumphant face, “but don’t say anything! I barely know the man, Helen. Plus, I doubt he’d be interested in me, he’s at least ten years older than me.”

“Who knows? He could be your Mr Darcy,” she laughed, a knowing glint in her eyes. You rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might fall out of your head, but continued to do your work, leaving her to bask in this new found information.

Your shift ended at five, an hour before the library shut for the public. As you left, a smell of coffee was brought to your attention, making your stomach grumble with hunger. It was coming from the little patisserie across from the green grocers, a small walk away.

Deciding to follow your nose (and stomach), you ended up in the shop, ordering  a cup of coffee and a piece of Victoria sandwich. The evening was cool; a breeze nipping at your shoulders and dancing around the ringlets of your hair, but still warm enough to sit outside.

Half way through your drink, a man sat opposite you; George Wicker.

“Oh, hello,” you said, putting your drink down and looking up at the man who you’d been all through school with. Despite being very attractive, you could never think of George as anything but the boy who pushed you over in the mud when you were seven years old, “can I do anything for you?” 

He smiled, looking deeply into your eyes. You blushed without meaning to, but the intensive stare just kept your cheeks growing redder and redder- until you resembled the same colour as a tomato. 

“How about accompanying me to the pictures tonight?” He proposed, a hand going to touch your thigh under the table. You flinched, nearly knocking over your drink.

“Oh, no thank you George. I already have plans; I think Helen is free tomorrow, though,” you said, moving his hand off of your leg, and continuing to eat your cake in peace.

“Go on, Em,” he moved his hand back, tracing lines up and down on your bare skin, “it’ll be fun- plus I don’t like Helen. She’s far too eager.”

Your conversation continued for a while, neither of you giving up. It was only when George’s hand travelled further up your leg did you feel extremely uncomfortable, and end up knocking your steaming hot drink onto his hand. It was an accident, but you still thanked your lucky stars and whoever was looking out for you.

Needless to say, George left rather quickly, and you were able to get away without a date. There was no way in hell you’d ever date that boy- his reputation was a bit too much for handle, and considering you thought of him as a weird little boy who made friends with ants, it wasn’t likely to happen.

You made your way back to your place, the streets darkening and goosebumps appearing on your skin. It wasn’t a far walk, but you still felt tired as anything when you finally arrived at your door. Your neighbours were in, the glare from the lights peeping through their net curtains. You could hear the couple squabbling about something; probably the same thing they’d squabble about every single night since you’d moved in. 

Sighing, you unlocked the door, immediately going straight to your bedroom. It wasn’t that late; but suddenly you felt your eyes becoming droopy and struggled to keep them awake. Maybe it was George causing you stress; or maybe it was your body telling you to dream about Alfie.

Either way, you knew men were the problem.

[sceawere]

the proposal | alfie solomons

anon requested stumbling alfie trying to propose and i did it in what i think would be typical alfie fashion: go big or go dig a grave. or both.

“Listen…”

“Yeah?”

Alfie didn’t say anything else and you looked up to him, breathing heavy and sniffling. You raised a hand to move your hair out of your face but then realised how dirty your hands were.

“Can you- “you waved your fingers to motion and he knelt to push your hair back behind your ears.

“Thanks, love”

“Listen”

“I am”

“Yeah but, listen”

“Alfie…”

“Marry me”

“What?”

“I-marry me. Please”

You flicked your eyes back and forth to either side of him, not much to focus on in the dark. Your mouth was wide open and you were squinting, entirely confused.

“Did you just say please after a proposal?”

“I did, yeah. Sorry”

“Are you dying?”

“What?”

“Are you…”

You stood on your tiptoes to press the back of your hand to his forehead and he tilted back a little, looking as confused as you did.

“No…no fever”

“What are you-“

“Did you hit your head somewhere along the way? Did I not notice?”

“Is that a no?”

“It’s a ‘why the fuck now?’ Alfie”

“Good a time as any”

You stood back a step and flung your arms out.

“I’m stood in a shallow grave, you twit. There are much better times!”

“I planned on doing it back at the-“he pointed behind him but you knew he didn’t mean it in a physical sense.

“Then why do it now?”

“Well…”

He turned to look at where the lifeless body was laying, wrapped in a bundle of tablecloths at the edge of the grave you were digging.

“Oh, typical. Blame it on the dead guy”

-

Alfie had been acting weird for days. Especially today. He’d been shifting about, uncertain all morning. He’d insisted you leave the office before you were done and driven you to a club.

“What are we doing here?”

“It’s The Convent”

“I know what it is, Alfie. Why are we here? This is out of your territory”

“Not anymore”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Ruin the surprise”

“Alfie, we talked about this. You have to tell me about boundary changes. I need to be prepar-“

“Oh, give over. Here”

He rooted in his pocket, looking down to check as he pulled something out. When he held his hand out to you, you realised he had a set of keys dangling from a finger. They swayed and glinted in the street lamp and you turned your head to the door and back in confusion.

“You took it?”

“Yeah”

“Why?”

“Cos you wanted it”

You broke out in a laugh, hands flying to cover your mouth as the shock settled in. You weren’t exactly sure which of the twelve emotions surging through your body were most prominent. They seemed to take turns rolling over you and Alfie gave you an uncharacteristically shy smile as he waited.

“For me?”

He grunted, swinging the keys on his finger.

You squealed, grabbing out and taking the keys. You didn’t even wait for him as you jumped the step to the pavement and rooted through the keys.

“Which one’s the door?”

“Uhh...I don’t know”

You laughed again, hands shaking with the excitement and you fiddled through them, testing them in the lock.

“Oh! Yes!”

You pushed through the door, laughing the whole way like a giddy schoolgirl. You made it halfway through the entry and across the floor before you knocked against a table.

“Ow, shit. Alfie? Lights!”

You swirled around in the dark for a moment but you couldn’t hear or see him.

“Alfie? Al, where are you?”

The flick of the light switch came a second before the light did and you rolled your eyes up to wait for them, listening to the groaning hum as they set to work.

“What ya think?”

You smiled at him as he shuffled over from behind the bar, apprehensive to hear your thoughts.

“I love it”

“Turn around”

“Yeah, in a minute. First-“

You grabbed his cheeks, bringing him down to meet your lips.

“Turn around”

“Let me say thank you”

“You’ve said it, now turn a-fucking round, you stubborn woman”

You stuck your tongue out at him and span around, your skirt dancing in the air.

You’d run into the table because they’d all been pushed to the edges of the floor, leaving a sole occupant. It was all set up for dinner, decked out all fancy.

“We turning it into a restaurant now?”

“Just for tonight. Just for us”

He was fidgeting next to you and you realised the little shit had been planning a big romantic night, worrying about it for days like a teenager.

“You soppy shit”

“Careful. My names still on the lease until I can get the lawyer to you”

“You won’t take it back”

“No, I won’t”

“You don’t even like this place. You think it’s tacky”

“It is”

“Well, I love it. And I love you so that’s a testament to my taste if you really want to question it”

-

“Fuck, I’m stuffed”

“There’s dessert yet”

You grumbled, sliding down in the chair and holding your belly.

“We’re keeping the kitchen staff. They’re fantastic”

Alfie stayed unmoving, hands woven together with his elbows on the table. He was worrying his thumbs around each other, battling them anxiously.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What you talking about?”

“You’ve been jittery for days – I thought it was just about this place but you’re not calming down. What’s happening? What haven’t you told me?”

“Nothing, no. It’s nothing”

“Tell me”

He rolled his jaw back and forth and you sighed, pulling yourself up and reaching across the table to wrap your hand over both of his.

“Alfie…”

He unwrapped his hands, bringing yours between his palms and leaning to kiss your knuckles. He stayed with his head bent and you sighed, standing and shuffling around the table as best you could with his grip on your arm. You bent a knee and rested it on the edge of his chair, dropping your forehead to rock against his hair.

“I love you…”

“I love you, too”

“And I-fuck, right”

He cleared his throat, released one of his hands and lifted his head. He draped the loose arm over the back of the chair, pulling at the top pocket of his coat.

“I’m not good at this romantic shit, to be honest, love. So, I’m just gonna, right, ok”

He pulled his arm back up, empty handed, and wiped at his forehead.

“You’re being really odd right now”

“I know, listen. Yeah, so I-“

He pointed his hand at you but didn’t say anything, eyes moving over your face. You lifted your eyebrows and tilted your head down as a show that he should carry on talking but he stayed still.

“I knew I loved you, well I didn’t but I thought – it was when I realised, I thought that I…listen, when you walked in and jumped up onto my desk with that knife I thought I’m either gonna have to kill or marry this woman and quite frankly-“

The door crash open across the room and the first shot was already out before you could turn your head towards the sound. Everything broke down into an action after an action.  A second after a second. Alfie had his arm around your waist and threw you over his knee. You hit the floor behind the table. He was out of the chair. He had his gun out. There were more men through the door. There were different men through another door. Everyone was shooting at everyone. Then it was still.

You were heaving breaths, barely processing what had happened when he was crouching over you. His hands travelled ahead of his eyes, checking every inch of skin he could find.

“I wasn’t hit, I’m fine”

“Sometimes you don’t feel it- the shock”

“I wasn’t hit. I wasn’t. Were you?”

You flew your hands up to chest, his shoulders, turning his arms.

“No, I’m fine”

“Boss?”

He didn’t turn his head and you nodded to him, whispering.

“It’s ok. Alfie – they need you, it’s ok”

He steeled his jaw, moving away from you slowly. The men huddled together over the bodies, toeing them over onto their backs, rifling for the guns and anything to identify them.

You composed yourself, raking your hands through your hair and slowing your breath. When you were calmed, you stood and walked over to the group.

“Who are they?”

“Work for the guy we took this place from”

“And the guy himself”

One of the men indicated towards one of the bodies and you sighed.

“Well, fuck. This is going to calm things down”

“It is actually. I’ve been trying to wipe these fuckers out for months – they just hand delivered themselves to me”

“Someone’s going to step into that space, though”

“Yeah. But not tonight”

-

That’s how you found yourself digging a shallow grave in a dark woodland in your best dress. Being proposed to next to a corpse.

“I cannot believe this”

“I fucked up, love. I know”

“No, you-“

You lent back against the dirt wall, shaking your head and laughing to yourself.

“You didn’t fuck it up. You did it perfectly”

He lent back in shock and looked you over.

“I did”

“In typical Alfie Solomons fashion, yeah”

“Yeah. Well…you wouldn’t love me otherwise”

“I…don’t know. I would like a slight decrease in the amount of grave digging, I will say that. But you’re mostly right. I would- yes”

“You would, yes?”

“No. Yes. I’m saying yes”

“Yes?”

“Yes”

“Yes and in a Yes? A Yes to the-“

“Yes. Yes a yes. To the question of which you wanted a yes”

“Yes…just to clarify-I’m mostly understanding you but I just want to check-“

“Alfie, I’ll marry you!”

“You’ll” he nodded, gesturing to you and then looking away.

“Marry me, hmm, ok”

“Yes, Alfie. I will marry you. But first – could you please get me out of the grave so we can push the dead guy in it?”

“Oh, yeah. Here”

You lifted your hands and set your foot into the dirt wall and he hauled you up, pulling you flush with him. You giggled as he started showering your face with kisses and turned away from him.

“Alfie! The corpse, please”

-

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[gyrlversion]

How officers came knocking at the door of a devout Catholic

As a schoolgirl, Caroline Farrow relished discussing politics and current affairs around the kitchen table with her family. 

Her parents, both teachers, encouraged robust debate and Caroline and her elder sister were precociously well informed. 

‘Freedom of speech and expression was drummed into us from an early age,’ she says.

She was ten in 1984, a landmark year when George Orwell’s vision of a totalitarian future was revisited and reappraised. 

Catholic journalist Caroline Farrow, 44, was told by Surrey Police that she had to attend an interview under caution or face arrest after she used the wrong pronoun to describe a transgender woman

Her father explained the novel’s concepts of Big Brother, Newspeak and the Thought Police, and Caroline was fascinated. 

‘But I remember thinking at the time that none of it could ever come true,’ she says.

Now 44, and a trenchant Catholic journalist, priest’s wife and occasional TV commentator, Mrs Farrow was reminded of Orwellian themes last Monday when, in the middle of preparing dinner for her husband Robin and five children, a policewoman rang her at home with a startling demand.

Mrs Farrow was told she must attend an interview under caution or face arrest because she had used the wrong pronoun to describe a transgender woman.

Suddenly the dystopia described in Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four began to feel all too real. Scarcely able to absorb what she was hearing, she felt, in sharp succession, disbelief, fear and anger.

Anger because Mrs Farrow herself had been the victim of a cyber stalking campaign which, at its vile worst, made her fear for her family’s safety – but which, she says, police failed to take seriously.

‘It’s double standards. When the complaint involves the word transgender, police leap into action,’ she says. ‘Something has gone terribly wrong in this country.’

In the event, the four-month Surrey Police investigation into Mrs Farrow, which prompted much controversy last week when made public, was hastily dropped as it hurtled towards full-blown fiasco.

Following a TV debate with Susie Green, the head of trans rights charity Mermaids, Mrs Farrow later called Ms Green’s daughter Jackie (pictured) ‘him’ instead of ‘her’ on Twitter and said Mermaids promoted child abuse

Critics called the probe a waste of time and money at a time when officers are struggling with high levels of knife crime.

The roots of the sorry affair appear to lie in a TV debate. Mrs Farrow, known for her deeply held religious views, and Susie Green, the head of trans rights charity Mermaids, clashed on ITV’s Good Morning Britain about Girl Guides allowing children who have changed gender to join the organisation. 

Mrs Farrow later called Ms Green’s daughter Jackie ‘him’ instead of ‘her’ on Twitter and said Mermaids promoted child abuse.

Five weeks later, Ms Green complained to police.

One of Mrs Farrow’s tweets read: ‘What she did to her own son [the youngest person in the world to undergo transgender surgery] is illegal. 

She mutilated him by having him castrated and rendered sterile while still a child.’

Many might consider Mrs Farrow’s choice of words unpleasant but she is unapologetic. 

She says: ‘I deliberately used the words castration and mutilation to shock because what happens is shocking. I was trying to bring home the harsh reality of what she [Ms Green] did.’

Jackie Green, who was born male and was once known as Jack, began taking puberty-blockers at 12, and went to Thailand aged 16 for reassignment surgery, which is now illegal for under-18s.

Whatever one feels about the tweet’s tone, Mrs Farrow is convinced most right-minded people would agree it wasn’t criminal. 

As anger surfaced, Mrs Farrow was left facing a tirade of abuse on social media which made her fear for her family’s safety

‘Yes, it was strong language but I wanted to make people sit up. I wanted to get the country talking about this. So much is changing in our society. 

‘The notion of what it is to be a woman or a mother is being erased and rewritten by zealots. People are too scared to question what is going on. The tweets might possibly be spiteful but they were not intended to cause alarm or distress.’

Which is why Mrs Farrow was stunned to receive the phone call from the police officer on Monday as she juggled preparing a meal of gammon, roast potatoes and vegetables for her children – aged between four and 14 – with overseeing homework and music practice. 

The message left on her voicemail said: ‘Hello there, I’m calling from Guildford police station… I need to have a chat with you about some tweets that have been sent.’

Mrs Farrow says: ‘My husband said, ‘You know it’s bound to be the trans stuff, you have been talking about this a lot lately and you know the lobbyists are looking to get you.’ ‘

She spoke to the officer later that night. ‘I pointed out that ‘misgendering’ wasn’t a crime and that as a Catholic I believed that sex could not be changed. 

I explained that the country is in the middle of an ongoing national conversation about sex and gender, what it means to be male and female, and I was contributing to that in a professional capacity.’

The officer reiterated that the CPS had ‘authorised us to bring you in for a taped interview’. 

That night, managing only an hour’s sleep, Mrs Farrow tried to make sense of what was happening. Naturally she feared the worst. Who would look after the children if she went to jail? She would be destroyed. Her husband would lose his job.

The following morning, Mrs Farrow instructed a solicitor. She says: ‘My lawyer said it seemed politically motivated but thought the case would be thrown out. 

‘He warned that I was likely to face a tough interview. What was happening felt so unjust, especially as over the past few months I have endured an unimaginable campaign of harassment, targeting not only me, but my entire family.’

A very PC force’s links to trans charity 

Flying the flag: Inspector David Harland calls himself a ‘trans ally’

Susie Green’s powerful transgender lobby group has forged close links with a police force behind a series of hate crime investigations.

West Yorkshire Police launched probes into an award-winning TV writer, a mother of four and a transsexual man following complaints from Mermaids.

But The Mail on Sunday can reveal that the force received ‘training sessions’ from Mermaids, which supports medical intervention for transgender children.

West Yorkshire Police has promoted Mermaids’ work, tweeting one of its leaflets. 

Mermaids has also advised Merseyside Police, NHS staff, social workers, the Scouts and student nurses.

One West Yorkshire officer, Inspector David Harland, declared himself on social media to be a ‘trans ally’, adding that he was dedicated to ‘doing all I can for the trans community’.

In February last year, West Yorkshire sent officers to Wiltshire to investigate a mother of four following a complaint by Ms Green.

Echoing the Caroline Farrow case, Kellie-Jay Keen-Minshull was questioned on suspicion of a malicious communications offence after Ms Green reported her for tweeting that Ms Green had illegally ‘castrated’ her ‘son’ by allowing him to have sex change surgery in Thailand at 16.

In April 2018, the force received another complaint, this time from Mermaid volunteer Helen Islan.

She claimed that transsexual Miranda Yardley, who has had gender reassignment surgery, had ‘outed’ Ms Islan’s transgender son by tweeting a picture of Ms Islan with her family, which included the child. West Yorkshire referred this incident to police in Essex, where Ms Yardley lives.

In a third case, West Yorkshire officers gave Graham Linehan, co-creator of the hit TV comedy Father Ted, a verbal harassment warning when transgender activist Stephanie Hayden reported him for referring to her as ‘he’ on Twitter.

A force spokeswoman said it was ‘committed to ensuring that anyone who feels targeted due to race, sexual orientation, religion, disability or gender identity is listened to’.

It should be noted that her stalkers were motivated not by her views on transgender issues but in part by the tragic case of Alfie Evans, the baby at the centre of a legal battle last year over turning off his life support. 

It was a morally fraught case that aroused fierce debate, and Mrs Farrow joined the global campaign to keep him alive.

Mrs Farrow often comments on social issues and her deeply held conservative religious views have made her many enemies on social media. 

Incensed by her intervention, opponents set up a blog solely for the purpose of attacking the journalist and her family.

On May 3 last year, five days after Alfie’s death, a Twitter account posted a link to her home address with the sinister message: ‘If anyone fancies having a chat with the illustrious Mrs Farrow…’ 

Even more distressing, someone posted a link to her children’s school.

Many of the abusive messages were sexually degrading, referencing her Catholic faith. 

At one stage, trolls warned that their ‘agents’ were on their way to her village. Some of the most upsetting attacks involved her children and comments made about their appearance. Mrs Farrow says there were even attempts at extortion.

‘I was ordered to delete all my social-media accounts and pay the LGBT lobby group Stonewall £1,000 if I wanted the blog to cease operation. 

‘They also got hold of our email addresses and set up accounts with pornographic websites in our name, and pictures. I had to cancel an order for £772 of sex toys.’

On January 8 – more than two months after Mrs Farrow made a formal complaint to police – one of the suspected trolls was questioned. But Mrs Farrow was later told no action would be taken.

‘I felt really let down. I have suffered so much with this, my mental health has deteriorated and I told the officer that this is the sort of thing that drives people to suicide. I was being hyperbolic, but then things turned nasty.

‘The policeman said he needed to report me to social services because I said I was suicidal. Social services called a few weeks later and after chatting to me said I was fine and they would not take it further. 

‘Yet Susie Green makes a spurious complaint and, bingo, the police are straight on to me.’

Surrey Police said Mrs Farrow’s claims of harassment were fully investigated but ‘we were unable to find evidence that meets the threshold for criminal proceedings’.

Last Tuesday, the Farrows’ 14-year-old daughter had a starring role in a school recital. Mrs Farrow says: ‘I knew I was going to have to tell her [about the police interview] but I waited until after her concert. 

‘She burst into tears at the idea that I could face jail, but regained composure when I said that it was highly unlikely.

‘I felt so guilty having to burden her with it and taint such a wonderful evening for her but I also knew that it wouldn’t be fair for her to find out from friends.’

The next day, Ms Green withdrew her complaint because she said she did not want to give Mrs Farrow a public ‘platform’. Instead of contacting police, she announced her decision on a television show.

Mrs Farrow believes police are only too willing to appease Ms Green and Mermaids, which she thinks is looking for a test case to codify misgendering into law. 

Hers is not the first transgender ‘hate crime’ police have pursued. So far none of them have ended with a successful prosecution.

‘Orwell’s novel was a cautionary tale and an example of why we always need to be thankful for and guard our freedoms,’ says Mrs Farrow. ‘I never once envisaged I would face jail for refusing to state that man cannot be woman.’

Surrey Police said: ‘We requested Caroline Farrow attend a voluntary interview to understand her intent in relation to the tweets. Details of this invitation were publicly shared and there has been criticism of our decision to investigate.

‘We have been in contact with both parties as we have a duty of care towards both, and there was concern for their welfare as a result of publicity. 

The victim will withdraw her allegation and has explained her reasoning. Without the support of the victim, it’s unlikely a criminal case could be brought.’

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