#the last two gifs being so similar is bothering me a bit but they're both important ok

[zhouxiangs]

i'm a gun, i'm a gun, til the day that man destroys me, i'm a gun

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Gorillaz Teacher! AU Headcanons

🍎 Original headcanons ✏️

🏫 Ao3 version 🎒

Murdoc:

• Wait, how did he even get this job and why hasn't he been fired yet?

• Teaching is honestly just a shitty day job for him. Once he earns enough, he's quitting to become a famous rock star with his own band! He could see it now: fame, glory, girls. It sounds like a dream come true. But until he had the money to make that dream a reality, he was stuck as the school's social studies teacher.

• When he quits his job as an "educator", it's going to be very similar to the fuck you scene from the movie "Half Baked".

• He is disliked by the students in all of his classes.

• He has a habit of arriving 30 minutes late to class. Sometimes he'll show up completely sober, while other times he'll show up drunk.

• The pickle has WAY too many political views that he refuses to keep to himself.

• If Murdoc falls asleep at his desk, one of the kids might try to either draw a dick on his forehead and take a picture of it, or they might try to put a 'kick me' sign on his back. But they have to be EXTRA careful or they might wake up the grumpy goblin!

• If he does wake up, he'll be extremely mad and end up giving the whole class a pop quiz first thing tomorrow morning.

• He finds grading papers to be too difficult, so he doesn't bother doing it.

• The only time Murdoc actually teaches his class something about social studies is when the principal or some other important staff member walks into the room to see what's going on. Once they're gone, he goes straight back to sleep.

• He believes that Stuart Pot, the new music teacher at school, is an idiot. He decides to give him the nickname '2D' because he feels that the man is too dense. Murdoc has walked by Stuart's classroom a couple of times before and has overheard him and his students singing while he plays the piano. To hear more, he would usually place his ear against the door. He had to admit that the guy had some really nice vocals. Plus, he's tall, pretty, has blue hair, and both eyes! Murdoc makes a mental note to remember to make that Stu-Pot guy the front man of his future band once he gets the money he wants and decides to quit.

• Murdoc only tries to 'befriend" 2D because he's a music teacher and also because he wants him to be his future front man.

• When he learns that the teacher of the class with the highest test scores will receive a large bonus pay, he decides to change his style of "teaching", forcing the students in his class to study intensely for the upcoming test. However, the kids end up getting low scores.

• He has been embezzling money from the 9th grade bake sale.

2D/Stuart Pot:

• He is the new music teacher!

• He quickly becomes well-liked by students and co-workers.

• Stuart is a nice teacher who carries himself off as a goofy professional who knows what he's doing.

• Believes that every one of his students will become a great musician one day.

• At times, he enjoys teaching while music plays in the background.

• He may accidentally give students test answers when they ask for clarification on a question

• He will write original songs for his class to perform.

• Has an after-school club where he teaches students how to play piano, keyboards, and melodica.

• I can imagine him being an actual teacher in real life.

• Stuart is a bit terrified of Murdoc because one time, when the two were on lunch duty together, Murdoc was explaining to him a dream that he had last night where he launched his car through a music shop that Stu-Pot was apparently working at and had knocked one of his eyes out! “ Oh, uh, o-okay… W-Well, it’s a good thing you aren’t actually going to run me over with a real car, right?…RIGHT?!”

Noodle:

• She has a full real name, but prefers to be referred to as Noodle, which was a nickname she received in her childhood.

• The children generally call her Ms. Noodle.

• She's the teaching assistant for Stuart's class!

• She's kind because she helps everyone in the class who needs it, even the spoiled kids.

• She's in charge of the guitar club after-school!

• She really likes the guitar club since it provides a safe and fun environment for students to come together and enjoy music.

• She's a master at playing acoustic guitar and ukulele!

• You'll most likely find her in the teacher's lounge playing on her pink handheld game player while drinking tea and munching on the candy and snacks that they have in there.

• The teacher's lounge is her favorite room to be in for obvious reasons.

Russel:

• He's a no-nonsense math teacher who will joke around with his students from time to time, but then gets very serious with them when it comes to their grades.

• Mr. Hobbs is skilled at making math fun with a capital F!

• They didn’t do so well on a test? Not a problem! Russel will happily allow a student to retake it, as long as they go home and study.

• He will greet each student by their name when they enter his class.

• Russel has a general concern for his students and desires the best for all of them.

• His students can count on him being genuine

• Will bring treats for the class if they did really well on a quiz or test!

• Allows his students to use their phones once they have finished all their work.

• When his students throw him a surprise party in the classroom on his birthday, he breaks down in happy tears.

• Murdoc's classroom is situated across the hall from his own.

• Russel doesn't know why, but he feels that Mr. Niccals is teaching for all the wrong reasons.

• He really doesn't think Murdoc should be teaching teenagers, or really anyone. Russel couldn't think of anyone less qualified to be a teacher.

• Whenever he's in the teacher's lounge, he likes socializing with other teachers like 2D or Noodle, but never with Murdoc. Russel tries to avoid him.

[love101imagines]

Way too much

request: could u pls write a imagine with Sinan,I was thinking about him and you being the best childhood friends, but they ended up getting away a lot, so some teacher spends a double job and chooses them to do it together, so they spend a lot of time together and discover that they still like each other

tag list: @zaynlikfalls @wwafangirld @girl-looking-out-window

If you asked Sinan if he had ever been happy he wouldn't answer. However, his mind would go back to the time when he was six and he used to spend every hour with his best friend, meeting you since you two lived in the same neighborhood and we’re the same age. You, the girl he used to play around on the park under his grandpa's care, the same one he used to watch cartoons with until you two fell asleep on his couch, and the one he used to play wrestle until one of you ended up with an accidental bloody nose or a broken tooth.

You were also each other's first kiss, the result of a dare when you two were nine and you wanted to know what it felt like after you watched a romantic movie.

Everything changed when you turned twelve when it was one of those nights your parents were out and you two would stay up late watching horror movies. With a blanket covering most of your face and eyes glued to the TV, you didn't notice how Sinan was looking at you.

When a jumpscare happened and you yelped, immediately grabbing his hand, he blushed slightly, finally realizing he was in love with you. And it terrified him. Even more than the old movie you were watching on the couch in your living room.

He felt his heart breaking when a few days later you arrived at his house on the verge of tears because your dad had received an offer for a better job in Ankara and you would be moving in some weeks. The only thing he could do was hug you, trying to calm you down as you continued crying into his shoulder.

That had to be one of the many disappointments he would face during his life, but he slowly got used to it, expecting people to always leave him, just like you did.

"You're staring." Eda pointed out, a smirk on her face as she leaned against the wall behind her. "Who are you looking at?"

Sinan gulped, back to reality before he looked away. "No one." He snapped in an annoyed tone.

Eda rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh as she went back to the drawing on the wall. He mentally cursed himself as he looked back at the group of girls standing nearby, no sign of the girl who had been his best friend for almost seven years. His mind had to be playing games on him, probably from drinking too many that day. There was no way you were at school, he must have seen someone similar.

He didn't have much time to think about it, focusing on the ticket Osman was handing to him for a concert.

"I'm off to the infirmary to sleep." He announced, already feeling a migraine he didn't have any intention of increasing.

Taking slow steps, he walked away from the group. The ticket was in his shirt's pocket, and he only had one thing in mind as he walked through the halls. To stop the feeling on the pit of his stomach after thinking about you in months and to sleep.

"Sinan!"

He didn't even get a chance to fully turn around before you crashed into him, standing on your tiptoes so you could wrap your arms around his neck. He didn't recognize you for a second, believing someone was about to punch him when he heard his name being called but he didn't even have time to flinch.

It was only a second though before his eyes widened and he wrapped his arms around your waist, finding comfort in the fact that nobody else was around and you two were the only ones standing next to the infirmary's door. Feeling you hug him again definitely was one of the best feelings in the world.

"(Y/N)?" He asked, chills running up his spine at the feeling of your skin against his.

You pulled away after a few seconds, even if you were sure the whole hug lasted for at least two minutes until he let you go. "The one and only." You teased.

You took a minute to get a good look at him, your hand still lingering on his shoulder. He looked...well, you didn't care about the bags under his eyes or the fact that his breath smelled of alcohol, the only thing that mattered was that you were with him again.

Sinan looked at you up and down too. Your hair was a bit shorter, not in your usual braids that you used to wear all the time. Your cheeks weren't as chubby as before and your legs weren't as skinny, and the small scar on your upper lip was faded almost completely, just like the one on the bridge of his nose.

But still, you were beautiful. That was undeniable.

You gave him a toothy grin, the same one you used to have all the time when you were kids. "It's so good to finally see you again. I missed you so much."

He nodded, a soft smile on his face as he looked at you, any thought about the migraine already gone. "When did you come back?"

As you started your rant about your father finding another job offer here in Istanbul and coming back a week ago, his mind couldn't help but drift off that you hadn't seen each other in years and many things had happened in between. His parents had abandoned him, he had turned into an alcoholic and he was about to be expelled. You, on the other hand, didn't know any of this, and he was sure you would look at him in disgust once you found out he wasn't the same twelve-year-old you had trusted with your whole life before.

He didn't even notice Osman calling him to meet when the rest until you tugged in his arm.

"What?" He asked emotionless turning to the taller boy.

Osman didn't seem to care, already used to his attitude. "Eda convinced Miss Burcu, we need to find a way to convince Coach Kemal."

Convincing Coach Kemal couldn't matter less to him, glancing at you because he wanted to take advantage of the fact that you still believed that he was the sweet boy who you had grew up with. It wouldn’t last for long, but he wanted to at least enjoy that time until you were disappointed.

You only gave him a reassuring smile. "Go on, I have to fix some things about my schedule but I'll see you later. We have a lot of catching up to do."

A bit less unsure than before, he nodded, giving you one last smile that lasted a second before he left, his heart pounding with so much force he didn't know how the rest couldn't feel it.

While Kerem was busy talking to their teacher, it didn't take much for him to run into you again, sharing your same classes. Even if most of the time he slept through Chemistry class without anyone bothering him, his brows furrowed as soon as he heard someone sitting next to him.

You only chuckled after waking the boy up, Sinan's face softening immediately. "Um, rough day?" You asked, not sure of what to say once you noticed the flask near his bag.

He shrugged, slowly leaving it inside his bag and taking out a notebook, trying to show that he cared about school even if he truly didn't anymore. Nevertheless, your bubbly attitude surely did something to him. It was like you two had never been separated before while the rest of your new classmates didn't understand why the new girl was hanging out with him, the depressed boy who mocked everyone.

It was to his luck that your teacher chose you two to work together on an assignment. Of course, you were happy, thinking you could make up for all the lost time and he allowed himself to feel happy too, even if he knew he'd fuck it up like he always did.

"So?" You started the next day as you two walked towards your home.

He raised a brow at you, his hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt. "So what?"

You rolled your eyes in a teasing way. "I want to know everything that happened since I left. My parents didn't tell me anything because they're busy with their new jobs and we haven't had time to talk. How are your parents?" You added, mindlessly looking at the colorful neighborhood you were walking past.

It was a loaded question and Sinan thought for a moment, waiting for you to find your keys in your bag. "They got divorced."

You almost dropped your keys in surprise, not knowing what to say like when you found him with his flask. "Oh." You mumbled, awkwardly opening the door for both of you. "I'm really sorry, I didn't know."

"It's fine." He brushed it off, not wanting things to change and be more awkward. "I've been living with my grandpa since I turned fourteen." He explained as he followed after you, taking off his shoes just like you were doing.

"How is he?" You asked with a smile, with a better mood knowing that the older man who used to take care of you two when you were younger was still alive.

"You know him, he doesn't die." He said, earning a slap to his arm.

You two ended up sitting on the floor of your room, a few books next to you, and a music cassette in the background. It felt like when you were seven, and he would trace out different pictures and you would giggle and try to bump his hand out of the way to color it in.

"What was Ankara like?" He asked as he turned the pages trying to look for something.

You continued highlighting a few phrases sitting in front of him. “Um, nice I think. I met a lot of people, went to a few parties, the school was pretty good.”

He glanced at you, absentmindedly doodling on his notebook. “Did you have fun in the city?” He asked sarcastically.

You punched his arm in a teasing way. “Yeah, but there wasn’t anyone like you.”

You only received a small smile before you sighed and moved over to sit next to him, knowing that he didn’t take notes and this was the most he had done in months.

“I have a question for you.” You told him.

“Go ahead.” He answered, still calm which was weird.

If someone else had asked him something personal he wouldn’t have answered or he would have given a sarcastic answer, but you were the one who was asking him. He could never snap at you.

You grinned at him. “How much did you miss me?”

He sighed, turning to look at you with a small sparkle on his eyes. “Way too much.”

It was in that moment with your smile that a small glimmer of hope built inside of him. It didn’t seem to bother you that he slept through most lessons, or that he showed up at school with messy hair and his tie undone, or that he always had his flask close to him. He hadn’t even taken a sip since you approached him that day so you two could go to your house.

“I tried to write to you.” He started, eyes directed to the floor so he didn’t have to meet your eyes. “My mum gave me your new address but...I always ended up crumpling them up and throwing them away.”

When you left, he used to write a letter every day, always trying to find the right words to express how much he missed you and to express his true feelings whenever he thought about you. It helped a bit to pour out all the feelings he didn’t know how to tell you in person, but out of fear of rejection or of ruining what was left of the two of you he never sent them, destroying them completely.

You furrowed your brows confused. “Why?”

A few seconds passed, your music being the only sound in the room.

You bit the inside of your cheek, fumbling with the hem of your skirt, knowing that things had changed between the two of you. “Sinan, it’s fine, I know that it’s been years since we...”

“Are you going to leave again?” He interrupted you, a hint of anger on his voice.

“What?” You blurted out.

“You left once, it wouldn’t surprise me if you did again.” He continued, a scowl on his face.

You crossed your arms, trying to act firm in front of him. “Are you serious? We were twelve, I didn’t have any choice and you know that.”

You stayed like that for a while, no trace of a smile on your face and a hard look on his until he gave up.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “It’s just, I...I don’t want to lose you again.” He admitted, vulnerability palpable on his voice.

You found yourself wrapping your arms around his shoulders again, hugging him for the second time in the same week. He didn’t seem to mind, his arms holding you by your waist and keeping you close to him.

“I won’t leave.” You added softly. “I promise.”

You tried to pull back to look at him, but it was to no avail, his grip on your waist tightening with each passing second. “Sinan.” You muttered, your hands finding his.

He was painfully aware of how close you are to him. It was like a deja vu from when you kissed for the first time, and with your eyes fixed on him, you didn’t even notice that one of his hands that was on your waist moved to the back of your neck until he was kissing you.

After you closed your eyes, you smiled against his lips. The kiss was slow, and you left your hands on his neck, bringing him closer. He didn’t pull away until you finally did for air, placing your forehead against his shoulder with your eyes closed, feeling your heart beat in your ears.

You weren’t seven anymore, you were now teens who could admit why you felt so comfortable around each other, or why one of the bests things of your day was to talk to him.

“About time.” You mumbled with a smirk, and he thought the same.

About fucking time.

[hardyimagines]

An Eternity

———————————————————————

Hey ! Are you taking requests? If so could you write an Alfie Solomon's imagine where they're actually childhood sweethearts and have always been together? Just general fluff between two lovers. 🖤 @peakysnacks

———————————————————————

Friday, January 20th

“Jesus, Alfie.. How many times do I have to tell you!” There was a sharpness in your words, an undertone of a warning he sensed. The desk you were perched up on was growing to be uncomfortable. Your legs were spread wide, feet propped up on his thighs as he resided between your own, seated in his chair. His lips were moving along the length of your inner thigh, scratchy beard scraping your sensitive flesh as he climbed higher and higher, eager to place those plump lips of his against your, he already knew, soaked core. The heels on the base of your shoe were growing to be quite painful as they sunk more firmly into his legs, so he let out a harsh growl before placing his hands on the backs of your calves. Yanking you forward and down, onto his lap, he moved his hands up and around to your hips. You were eye-level with him now.

“Tell me what, pet?” He carried the same tone you did. His mouth found your jaw, lazily kissing the length of it. His lips were creating a lengthy trail to your ear. A breathy hum of delight escaped your parted lips, fingers wrapping in the front of the man’s shirt in order to hold him in place.

“Not to bite my thigh.” You hissed out breathily before slowly wounding your arm around his shoulders. Clutching on to him as he neared your weak spot, your eyes grew droopier by the second, fluttering and fluttering until they closed completely. Arching into him the second his tongue slid over your earlobe, you bit your bottom lip.

“I was hungry.” He teased quietly. Your ankles rotated, legs swinging as they hung off of the sides of the seat. Leaning back sharply at his poor excuse, you lifted your hand to his throat in order to steady him.

“Hungry? I was giving you a perfectly fine meal. You don’t have to try and eat my thigh everytime I let those nasty lips of yours anywhere near me.” Laying your hands flat against his chest, you pat his pecks before rising. Feet planted on either side of his thighs on the wooden floor, you hunched over, hot breaths hitting his ear. “Now you’ll have to starve, Mr. Solomons.” Climbing off of him completely, you fixed the navy blue dress that embraced your form before moving around the table and collapsing in a chair parallel to him. The seat was comfortable and gave you a nice lounging place. Alfie stared at you in shock, mouth watering and stomach growling. He still had quite the appetite and the only thing he’d settle for was the space between your legs. His chair moaned out as he stood and the second he approached, you began to giggle.

Alfie Solomons. How did one put him in words?

Intimidating. Funny. Handsome. Mean. But sweet when he wants to be. Amazing in bed. Hairy. Cuddly. Possessive. Defensive. In love with power. Difficult. Disobedient.

His tongue ran along your slit slowly, taking his time to worship every part of you.

Giving. Patient.

He yanked your legs open before gripping your calves and guiding them around his head so he could delve deeper.

Maybe impatient.

A loud rumble of laughter escaped your lips as he suckled on the most sensitive space, the little bundle of nerves. You locked your hand in the back of his hair, tugging feverishly. You hated how ticklish you were, but it didn’t stop the man, currently feasting on you, in the slightest.

Faithful. Opinionated. Verbal.

You’d been dating him since you’d been in your 6th year of school. You could still remember the day little Alfie Solomons had approached you in the cafeteria lunch line, grabbed ahold of your hand, and asked if you’d be his girlfriend. Wouldn’t it be cute if that had lasted all this time?

Sharing juice boxes and sneaking kisses at recess. He was absolutely infatuated with you at such a young age. Ten years old was so young to fall in love, but he didn’t realize until he was sixteen. You were a little bit younger, but he wasn’t bothered by the fact. He turned into this clingy, obsessed, desperate teenage boy who tried his hardest to be sly, collected, discreet about his feelings, but he was so obvious. And you were so in love with him. Being younger made you curious. It made you interested. But being with someone whom you’d had a previous cute relationship with when you were just a little girl gave the whole situation some comedic relief.

Alfie was the kindest boy you’d ever met. He walked you to class. Walked you home. Took you to lunch. Bought you flowers. Took you on cute dates, gave you sweet kisses. He was very respectful when it came to you, so when the pair of you decided that you were going to love one another for eternity.. well, you hadn’t really complained.

Now here you were, legs draped over your husband’s shoulders, slouched crookedly in a chair as the man knelt on his knees, eating you as if you were a ripe piece of fruit, tender and juicy. And so very delicious. Your hands curled tighter in his brown locks. He was nearing forty now which meant he’d loved you for almost twenty years. Your eyes clamped shut. Oh, how he loved you. Life didn’t get better than this. Spending forever with your best friend by your side was a fairy tale. It was what you read about in story books, it wasn’t what people were lucky enough to actually experience.

“Mr. Solomons!” The loud shout belonged to none other than Ollie, Alfie’s right hand man. “Alfie!” The voice came again, growing to be increasingly louder. But Alfie didn’t stop what he was doing, not until your thighs quaked and your head tipped back, mouth hanging open in a silent cry. He wiped the moisture from his beard and swiftly fixed your dress before standing in front of you. Apart from his heavy breaths and your occasional trembling as you recovered from your orgasm, nothing was unusual. “Mr.. Solomons, sir, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Ollie spoke the second he threw the door open. “There’s a man here, Luca something.. says he’s here to speak about Tommy Shelby.” Ollie’s words shook, similar to his body — and yours. He was stood in front of Alfie with a quivering lip and a towel in his hands, wringing it nervously.

“Changretta.” Alfie stated simply before sending Ollie away with a wave of his hand. “Tell him I’ll meet him downstairs, yeah?” The lad in the door nodded once. Ollie bid you a brief good morning before twisting around and vanishing from the room. The sound of his footsteps racing down the flight of stairs could be heard as you and Alfie exchanged a silent look.

“Now what business could you possibly have with Luca Changretta?” You whispered breathily before pushing yourself up from your slouched position in the seat. Moaning out under your breath, you stood to smooth down your dress.

“Nothing that concerns you, is it, pet?” He pinched the sleeve of your dress before dragging you toward him. Your side pressed to his front. “You stay up here, stubborn lass, I’ll be right back, yeah?” His lips skimmed your temple before he nudged you toward his office chair. You obeyed simply because you knew better than to get involved with any of Alfie’s allies or enemies, it was never good for them to see how much the man loved you. Knowing a man’s weakness was like holding a gun to his head. You dropped down in the chair before laying your elbows on the arm rests, warm eyes gliding along his calm expression. He was never worried. Typically, he got what he want. And when he didn’t? Well.. he still managed to get something.

Alfie sent a quick wink your way before removing the spectacles from his face and instead allowing them to drape around his neck. He licked his lips before twisting around and heading out of the room. His boots were much louder than Ollie’s retreating ones had been. They were much more hollow and deep. Your fingertips lazily grazed the desk before sliding to the corner so you could mess with the lamp that sat, perched, on the corner of the table. Caressing the string absentmindedly, you twisted it around your finger before swiftly tugging it and turning the bright bulb on. You tugged again and it cut off. Again, and again, you repeated the lazy action, eyes glistening when the bulb would illuminate your face. Alfie usually took around an hour with these meetings of his so you’d busy yourself with fidgeting.

The tip of your finger slid south to the desk’s drawers. Hauling them open one by one, you rummaged through the contents. Unsurprised to find a disorganized clutter in the first drawer and a revolver in the second, you nudged the both of them shut with your palm before looking toward the tall vanity in the corner. Books, you could read. You could organize the clutter. Sort through paperwork. Sign his signature on documents he’d already approved of.

You stood from the chair and moved around the large desk to the window. Peering out of the thing, you stared down at the men below, hard at work. The machinery was relatively loud, lots of chirping and whirring. You scrunched your features up, nose wrinkled and brows furrowed as you watched. You didn’t have the best vision, so pulling strange faces was what it took in order to see clearly. Alfie wasn’t in the room you were peering in. He was probably further down the corridor, sat in a chair or on a barrel with his cane laid over his lap. You bit your bottom lip before leaning agaisnt the smudged window. You wondered silently how after years and years of loving this man, the feelings hadn’t faded. You’d never believed in true love as a child. Not until you’d hit your teens and the boy you were dating made you swoon unimaginably. You missed him already and he’d only been gone for a few minutes.

Pushing yourself off and away from the glass, you moved to the door so you could haul it open and head downstairs to converse with some of the men. Everyone knew you — and why wouldn’t they, you’d been here since the very beginning. They’d known you as long as they’d known Alfie and whenever the blokes had been introduced, you’d been stood tall at your husband’s side. ‘Off limits’ he’d told them all. They’d hardly looked at you during there first few months of work, but now they were friendly, kind, more than willing to associate with you as long as you initiated it.

You spent the next hour propping yourself up on tables, talking to whoever seemed to be the least amount of busy. The men doing the work tended to pause momentarily in order to hold conversation with you and you found it quite polite. You liked all the men here well enough. But Ollie, whiner he was, was your favorite. “Oh!” You excused yourself sweetly from a conversation you’d formed between three men. Wiggling past them, you raced after Alfie’s right-hand man. “Ollie.” In the nick of time, you’d gripped his elbow and lugged him back. He was about to go into the room Alfie was in. “Question.” You peered up at the tall lad.

Ollie shook his head. “I ain’t discussing Changretta with you. Alfie’ll have my head. He’s not in a good mood, Miss, Changretta’s really agitating him.” You narrowed your eyes before looking toward the door. Folding your arms slowly, you inhaled deeply. You took a step forward so you could at least call your husband out of the room to check in on him, but Ollie gripped your wrist and gently drew you back. “You can’t go in there. Really, ma’am, Alfie wants you as far away from Luca Changretta as possible. That man in there, he..” There was no time for Ollie to finish. The door beside the pair of you was yanked open and a heavily breathing Alfie stood in the doorway.

“Ollie.” He ground out before extending his arm. He snatched the papers from the boy — an inquisitive look in his eye as to why the boy was taking so long, but once he looked toward you, he realized. “Get upstairs.” He demanded rather loudly.. harshly, before beginning to move back into the room. You stepped around Ollie then and swiftly gripped the belly of Alfie’s shirt.

“I’m sorry?” You lifted a brow. Your eyes shimmered with disbelief. Surely he wasn’t talking to you in such a manner. Alfie stared down at you with a look that said ‘I don’t have time for this’, but he didn’t want to rile you up.

“Pet, please.” His hand found the crook of your hip, lazily tracing the silky fabric that hugged your form. “Go on up there and keep my seat warm for me, right, I’ll be up there in just a fucking second.” He was getting angry. You heard it in the harshness of his ‘f’. You eased your grip on his shirt before leaning up and stealing the softest kiss. It was apologetic for leaving the office, but also a way of telling him that he wasn’t off the hook for shouting at you the way he just had. You spun on your heel and made movement to leave, but the door opened wider and the man they’d been trying to keep you away from stood behind Alfie.

“Who’s this?” The new voice chimed in. It wasn’t deep like Alfie’s or husky like his either. It was rather unexpected — light. You peered up at him before pursing your lips and rudely twisting away. A clear indication you had no interest in speaking to him. Making your way away from the man and the introduction, your heels clacked noisily against the hard floor as you headed back toward the stairs. Every man in the distillery was looking toward Changretta, all guarded and ready to step forward if Alfie needed them. Alfie waved his arm, signaling them all to get back to their work before he looked to Changretta.

“She’s a bit off limits, mate. To talk about, you know, so we, yeah, can discuss whatever else it were about my good friend, Tommy Shelby, or you can be on your way, innit. You remember where it was, don’t you, the exit.” His thumb ushered over his shoulder and toward the door. Changretta snarled before setting his hand on Alfie’s back. Patting it, he turned around and headed back toward the man who’d been stood at his side the whole time.

“I think we’ve done all the talking we need, Mr. Solomons. Just need a verbal agreement from you now,” His brows twitched. “Do we have a deal?” The bloke inquired. Alfie narrowed his eyes in the slightest before settling back down on the barrel he’d made his seat earlier. He pulled a grimace, fingers twitching as they curled around his cane. He tsked lowly before adjusting himself. Tommy was right about Changretta.

“No negotiation, then?” Alfie rose from his place. “Ollie, see the lad out, yeah.” Ruffling his messy locks, he retreated from the room, tuning out Changretta’s shouts to be acknowledged. Alfie didn’t care. He was done talking. He passed Ollie with a quiet swear before he opened the door and made his way back through the distillery, pausing long enough to ensure that word got around to avoid Luca Changretta. He popped his back before he climbed the stairs, arms bent back and around him so he could push his thumbs into his spine. The delightful feeling made him capable of climbing the flight of steep steps without having to pause.

You were sat on the seat behind the desk, fingertips curled around one of the pens he had inside the cup holder. The tip smoothly slid along the paper on the surface as you lazily wrote out a variety of random words. Boredom had gotten the best of you. The door in the corner opened with a creak and when you looked toward the doorway to find the man you’d assumed entered, you lifted a brow. “He’s gone, then?” Alfie nodded once. You sensed the tension he felt — and not because of his stiff back. Standing from the seat, you laid the pen down and made your way over to him. Your hands lifted to his arms. “I won’t pry, but can you just tell me you’re safe.” He looked heavy. Like Luca Changretta had just tied an anchor around your husband’s shoulders. “Alfie?” You spoke quietly when he didn’t reply. It took him a few more moments, but when he registered that he was being spoken to, he pressed his lips together before letting them pop.

“Luca Changretta, yeah, he wants me to help him in the murdering of Tommy fucking Shelby.” Alfie peered down at you, waiting to see the inevitable shock cross your pretty features. It did. Your lips parted and your eyes widened.

“Thomas.. Shelby? Surely you said no?” The twitch of your upper lip told the man that if he hadn’t said no then he was in for a rude awakening.

“Course I didn’t give the fucker a verbal answer, did I, pet. Just walked out on him, right, the bloke knows, id never harm a mate of mine.” Alfie mumbled under his breath as he slipped past you. He moved toward the cabinet in the corner. Pinching the rusted handles, he tugged on the drawers and removed the bottle of whisky. You scoffed.

“Jesus, Alfie. I hope you know what you’re doing.. I mean, you hardly know this Changretta or what he’s capable of.” Setting your hands on your hips, your eyes trailed along his back, watching the muscles flex beneath the thin white shirt he wore as he poured himself a shot of the liquor.

“Right, then, have you fucking forgot who you’re married to, dove?” He turned around, small glass cradled in his fist as he faced you completely. “He’s more terrified of me, then I am of him, pet. Hes heard things, innit, from all the blokes who’ve had the pleasure of doing business with me.”

“As big and scary as you are, Mr. Solomons, I don’t think he’s going to feel too threatened. He wouldn’t have shown up at your workplace and..” Alfie gave you a dismissive look. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He heaved a loud sigh, one that silenced you from speaking any further.

“Right, you’re worrying, ain’t ya?” He tipped the drink back and swallowed it all in one gulp before discarding the glass on his desk. Moving toward you, his wide palms found the ones on your hips. Gently taking ahold of you, he pulled you in close. “You think lanky, little, Changretta is gonna hurt me?” The look in your eye told him he was right. “I’ve had a lot of enemies since I’ve been doing this, pet, right, and nobody’s even come close, have they?” Apart from a few bar brawls and drunken street fights, no. Your head shook. “That’s right, and nobody’s gonna come fucking knocking at our door to hurt me because I don’t fuck no one over, do I?” He sighed once more before leaning in and pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Alfie.” Your head tilted back so you could see him completely. “You just had a discussion with a man you just met about killing a man you’ve known for a few months, I think that classifies as ‘fucking someone over’. And Thomas doesn’t seem too forgiving..” Your hand lifted to his cheek, fingertips delicately tracing the length of his skin. “I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.” He straightened defensively at your words before slowly shaking his head.

“We’re not going down that road, pet, that’s enough. Right. I’m here, im fine. There’s not gonna be any fucking trouble, I swear it.” The hand you’d placed on his cheek had slid down to his neck and now resided there. Lazily caressing his heated skin, you took a deep breath before shrinking away from him. You’d believe what he said because it sounded so comforting. So believable. Whether or not it was true — you didn’t know, but it was nice to calm your scattered thoughts for the time being. You patted his forearm before moving to the corner to stand by the window. Propping it open in the slightest so some fresh air could waft through, you exhaled. “Lets head home, yeah?” The sound of the man lifting his coat from the back of his chair could be heard because of how heavy the fabric was. It was only mid-day, so you thought it was rather unusual for him to just decide to go home, but you didn’t complain. Alfie took your hand and tugged you away from the window and your body obediently went along with his.

—

Monday, January 23.

Trouble hasn’t come knocking and you knew if there was any to expect, it would’ve been here by now. The sun was low in the sky, very distant as it lowered itself down, down, down to hide behind the mountains. The rain was falling softly, a quiet pitter patter as it bounced off of the cement and rolled toward the sewers. The hot pot on the stove smelled delicious, steam escaping from the lid placed on top of the nearly fully-cooked meal. Alfie was sitting at the dinner table, newspaper in hand, opened fully. The corners kept folding so he’d jerk the thin paper back into place, blue eyes running along the pages with curiosity. The spectacles on his face kept falling from their rightful position, so he’d wrinkle his nose in a poor attempt to return them to their previous spot, but they wouldn’t budge — and when he settled for pushing them up with his pointer finger, they just slid back down two seconds later.

Opening the cabinet, you pulled out two bowls and filled each one with the hot soup. Pinching two ice cubes, you dropped them into the bowls and stirred the icy blocks around. Lifting the dishes from the counter, you carried the both of them to the table and set one down in front of Alfie before placing the other in front of your vacant chair. Cyril gobbled his food down noisily in the corner, chomping like he hadn’t eaten in months. You smiled fondly before grabbing the shakers of salt and pepper and then settling down at the man’s side. Your knee bumped his beneath the table before your warm palm slid to his leg. “Earth to Alfie?”

His eyes lifted to yours over the rim of the paper. He instantly closed the thing and rolled it up before shoving it beneath his thigh. “Sorry, pet,” He leaned in and kissed your cheek softly. “Thank you for the food.” The sound of his rings clinking against the silverware was a soft, regular occurance. He sunk his utensil into the bowl without hesitation, ready to devour the food in front of him, but you swiftly reached for his wrist and ceased his impatient movements.

“I swear I’m married to a child. Honey, you’re going to burn your tongue.” He always did. You lowered the spoon back down to his bowl and shook your head. “Stir the ice cube around, it’ll cool it down enough for you to eat it right away.” Alfie did so. He smiled lopsidedly in your direction before, with care this time, lifting another spoonful. He blew on it for extra measure before taking a bite. His stomach growled out in enjoyment, instantly begging for more and he hadn’t even swallowed the first bite yet, he was letting his tongue absorb the taste, savoring it because he knew he’d finish it in minutes.

The pair of you sat in the kitchen for a while, making small conversation as you ate. He was exhausted from the long day at work and you were the same. You helped out, basically working as his assistant but he’d never label you such a thing seeing as between the two of you, you were in charge.

The sun was gone now. The sky was dark. The pair of you had eventually made your way to the living room to curl up on the sofa and rest. Alfie still had his newspaper and you had a full belly. The dishes in the kitchen were washed and put away, the floor was swept, and Cyril had been taken to use the restroom so your tasks for the night were done. It was time to just be. Your head was propped up against Alfie’s arm, eyes gliding along the pages of your book as the dying fire in the center of the room casted it’s dimming light on the pair of you. The soft crackling of the logs of wood was peaceful as you lost yourself in the fictional world you held in your hands. Alfie read something much more realistic, checking up on the real world. His hand resided on your leg, lazily tracing your warm flesh as he used his free hand to pinch the now folded paper. Before the pair of you had gotten too comfy, you’d gone upstairs to brush your teeth and change into a nightgown, but Alfie was still dressed for work. Trousers, boots, white shirt, vest, suspenders, chains, rings, the entire lot.

His finger ran from the smooth flesh of your knee all the way up and along your thigh until the pad of his thumb found the jagged space of your inner thigh where a rather large scar resided. It tore his attention away from the paper instantly, blue eyes narrowing toward the gash. He shifted, leaning forward to get a better view. How had he forgotten about the mark? He’d had his face buried between these very thighs not too long ago, but he supposed something as tender as a tongue wasn’t going to notice the difference in texture when moving so rapidly and hurriedly toward its destination. He was infatuated with the blemish. “Pet?” His voice was hoarse from not speaking for a while. Your ears twitched.

“Fire.” You whispered to him quietly. “It’s a burn, Alfie.” Adjusting your leg to discreetly try and brush his hand — and attention — away from the spot, you flipped the page of your book and tried to continue reading, but your focus was now on your husband.

“How’d I forget about it, then? When the fuck were you in a fire?” The blatant confusion on his face was enough to make you smile. He looked so innocent. Such a dangerous trait to have.. so deceiving for someone who didn’t know this man. Your lips pursed. Memorizing the page number, you shut the novel and set it to the side before moving closer to him.

“When I was fourteen. It was right before we started dating. Don’t you remember? The car fire?” Attempting to jog his memory was hard. He was horrible with memories. “I was driving home and the steering wheel jammed. I couldn’t turn.. when I crashed, I got wedged in and the fire started so suddenly.” You could tell he was straining his ears, listening so intently. “Just a sliver of the flame got me, when I eventually wiggled out.” Your eyes dropped to the scar, adjusting your leg so he could see it more clearly. His eyes lowered along with yours, scrutinizing the mark before he leaned forward further. His fingertips brushed along the tissue before he leaned in and kissed your lips softly.

“I can’t believe I don’t remember that, pet. And I can’t believe I’ve never fucking noticed it either.” Your eyes shifted back to your closed book.

“I thought you’d noticed.. maybe you just didn’t want to ask about it.” The flame in the pit died completely, leaving the pair of you in the dark. You wiggled closer to him, seeking the warmth and comfort that only he could offer.

“No, pet, definitely fucking not, yeah. I wouldnt be shy to ask my wife about a little mark.” His hand slid up to your chin, lazily beginning to caress it.

“Yeah. Well, it’s not the prettiest spot to have.” Rising from the cushion before he could register what you’d said, you moved to the fireplace and swiftly lit a match. Chucking it into the hole so the logs would ignite once more, you twisted around to find your husband with narrowed eyes and another look of confusion.

“Right, tell me if I’m wrong, pet, but are you saying that you, yeah, you think that spot makes you fucking ugly?” Alfie stood from the sofa and tossed his paper down on the coffee table. Stepping over Cyril who was fast asleep at the foot of the couch, he approached you with a look of disbelief. Words never worked with you, he’d learned that in the beginning. You stared up at him, suckling on your bottom lip because you knew he was about to lecture you over your comment. He’d call you beautiful, tell you that the gash was nothing to be ashamed of, and while you waited for him to say what you assumed he would, you shut your eyes for just a brief moment.

Alfie knelt down on the floor in front of you. His wide palm found the back of your thigh and his free hand slid to your calf. Turning your leg so that the scar was completely visible, he leaned in and pressed his lips against the permanent damage. His mouth was tender, slow, sweet and warm. Your eyes fluttered open in surprise, fingertips twitching before slowly moving to the top of his head. His kisses werent rushed. They didn’t move north in order to make this sexual. His fingers kneaded your skin delicately, mouth opening against your scar so he could whisper.

“I’nt a thing fucking wrong with this here beauty, pet.” His words were heavy, genuine, hot breaths drying the now wet scar. “Not a fucking thing.” You bit your bottom lip before slowly lowering yourself down in front of him. Looping your arms around his neck, you shuffled closer so it was your lips that now rested centimeters apart.

“I was so sad during that time, Alfie.. so drained and exhausted. I felt so alone.” Your fingertips traced the sides of his head, twisting lazily in his brown locks. “And then you showed up.. ready to wow me like you had when we were just kids.” Alfie’s lips curved upward slowly, hands moving to your sides. “Do you remember our first kiss?” The question was soft. Alfie almost hadn’t heard you. It was quite random seeing as it wasn’t relative to the previous topic, but he didn’t mind. He assumed you were done discussing the scar and he didn’t want to push and pry so he let it go.

“When I was ten or when I was sixteen?” He inquired. His body fell back so he could sit instead on his rear. He drew you forward and into his lap, arms wounding around you as he stared up at your features. Half of your face was glowing from the dancing flame and the other was casted in a dark shadow. His was the same.

“Sixteen.” You whispered before nibbling on your bottom lip. When he was ten and you were eight, he’d stolen offguard kisses — pecks, and you’d thought he was annoyingly cute.

Alfie’s lips curved upward. “No, remind me.”

—

1895.

The snow crunched noisily beneath your boots as you made your way down the dark, crowded streets. The trousers you wore, suggested by a family doctor, hid the bandage wrapped around your thigh, protecting your burn from infection. The top you wore was something your mother had helped you to create from an old dress you no longer wore and you actually found the outfit to be quiet cute. The heavy jacket, puffed out like a marshmallow, protected you from the merciless, icy winds, whipping your hair in this direction and that. Luckily you had curled it so even if it were messy, it would still look good.

The lights in the distant were a clear indication that that was your destination and the large banner that read ‘happy birthday’ was another sign you were getting closer and closer. You didn’t even know why you were attending this event, you hardly liked the birthday girl. But your mother had urged you to go, to get out of the house and be a teenager for once. So you’d listened after a lot of nagging.

The closer you got, the louder the music became. It was almost deafening. People raced by you to beat you to the entrance, party lights bordering the entry way. You entered with a shy expression plastered on your face, fingers brushing through your strands to do your best and blindly situate them. Everyone in the room cradled a drink and wore a drunken smile as they clumsily weaved past each other. Nobody here looked familiar and it was because they were all at least two years above you so you didn’t know what you’d end up doing. Internally, your brain told you to turn around and leave — go back home while you still could, you were going to wound up stood in a corner for the entirety of the night. You turned around to head for the door, but instead slammed into someone. Reeling back in surprise, your fingers caught on to your victim, apology instantly leaving your lips.

“Shit, sorry, I..” The clumsy excuse was seconds from fully escaping you. The lad in front of you was handsome. Dark hair, green eyes, sincere smile.

“Don’t worry about it. It isn’t the first time to happen tonight.” His words eased your embarrassment a little. The boy looked toward your coat briefly before shuffling his feet. “Do you want me to take that for you?” His smile was humorous, soft, very kind as he extended his arm. You nibbled on your bottom lip before pushing out all the anxiety and worry that swarmed you. Removing the coat, you handed it over to him gratefully before licking your lips. It was hard to hear him when he asked if you wanted to go get a drink, so when you didnt respond, he took your hand and led you to the kitchen. It was significantly quieter.

The boy’s name was Sailor. He was almost seventeen. He had visible freckles that were scattered along his cheeks, nose, and forehead. Green eyes, so easy to get lost in. A white-toothed smile. He was dressed down in a baggy shirt with some trousers and although the attire probably would’ve looked horrible on others, he could pull it off. The pair of you stood, leaning against parallel counters, conversing for what felt like forever. It was actually quite nice and you didn’t want anything to interrupt it — especially not the goon who came tumbling into the room.

Your head turned over your shoulder at the noisy bloke that stumbled in. Cup in hand and lopsided grin on his lips, the boy merely glanced toward Sailor before letting his eyes drop on you. Both of you scanned one another, curious to know why you looked so familiar. You realized why first, but when Alfie did, you were sure the whole house heard him.

“Y/N!” The cup in his hand fell to the counter at his side. “How the hell have you been?” The question was over-eager, voice too loud for his own good. He was definitely intoxicated, but his red, warm cheeks gave that away before his loud words.

“Good, Alfie.. I’ve been good.” Your smile was gentle, sweet, amused, concerned. He almost toppled over when he moved toward you. Half of you wondered if he was really this shitfaced or if his brain had merely convinced him he was because he was young, stupid, and drinking. You peered up at him before looking toward Sailor. The boys apparently knew each other because when they made eye contact, it was like a switch had been flipped and tension swarmed the room. Alfie wasn’t aware Sailor was talking to you at first, but now that he was, he felt instantly protective.

Sailor was a pretty boy. A charmer. A handsome fellow who knew exactly what to say and what to do to get any girl he wanted — and once he got them, he trashed them. Alfie narrowed his eyes before attempting to sober up. “You look good, yeah, great actually, fucking beautiful.” He grumbled out softly. Sailor sensed Alfie was trying to swoop in so he shook his head.

“Mate, come on, take yourself elsewhere. Y/n and I are having a nice conversation, don’t be a cunt.” Sailor placed his hand on Alfie’s back and made movement to usher him out of the room.

“Mate.” Alfie shoved the boy off. “I’ll have you know I’m technically still dating the lass. Every since we was ten.” He let out a low chortle before looking in your direction. “Never broke up with me, did you, pet?”

“It was insinuated.” You lifted your brows before laying your hand on the counter. Looking toward Sailor, you pulled your lips in. “He’s harmless, it’s fine.” Your fingers wrapped around Sailor’s gently before dragging him toward you so you could continue with your conversation. Alfie watched intently, a twinge of envy forming in his chest. He lifted his hand to the back of his head and scratched at his scalp.

“Pet?” Alfie cut in again. “Mind if I steal you for just a second. I just want to catch up.” Your eyes moved between Sailor’s, studying them before you bit your cheek. You didn’t blame Alfie for being persistent.. it had been a long time since you’d seen one another and Sailor was technically still a stranger.

“Okay, can you go find us a private space..” Your voice was too low for Alfie to hear. “And I’ll talk to him in the meantime?” Sailor folded his arms before giving you a short nod. He slipped past you without so much as a brush of the fingers or a smile. You turned around slowly, innocent eyes latching on to your very first boyfriend.

Alfie stood with a smug grin, fingers twitching before he shoved them into his pockets. He whistled lowly before stepping forward and toward you. “Look at you. All grown up now, ain’t ya?” His eyes fell to your trousers. “And wearing men’s pants.”

“They’re fashionable.” Your lips curved upwards. Eyeing the man under an unwavering stare, you studied him. He was very handsome. Far too handsome. Brown hair, floppy, long enough to brush your hands through. Dangerous, blue eyes, so luring and rather intoxicating. Plump lips with such a dashing smile. He had seemingly permanent lines on his forehead which only became deeper when he would smile.

“Yeah, pet, I think you’re probably the only female in the fucking world, right, who’s able to pull those ugly fuckers off.” He slunk toward you, finger lifting to trace one of the belt loops on your slacks. There was a moment of silence. “Where’d you run off to, hm? Haven’t seen you in what feels like forever, innit.”

“My mom had a job transfer.. I go where she goes, you know.” Staring up at him, your eyes flickered along his face, admiring him blatantly.

He grunted in understanding, finger continuing to lazily stroke the hem of your trousers. He swiftly hooked his finger in the loop and drew you in closer to him. “You couldve said goodbye, you know, right, you were my best friend.” Your hand lifted to his chest, pressing against it flatly to keep some amount of space between the two of you.

“Easy, Solomons.” You whispered. “I didn’t have the chance. I cried about it for a week if that makes you feel any better.” Distancing in the slightest, your hand dropped to his but only so you could gently brush his touch off. It was wrong to flirt with Sailor and then let this boy put his hands on you, wasn’t it?

“Slightly.” He chuckled, but your touch silenced him. He stuck his hand in his pocket once more. “What’re you doing standing around talking to Sailor? He’s a cunt, pet.” You pulled your lips in. “He’ll fuck anything that breathes and then leave it where he found it.”

“Mr. Solomons, I think you’re just jealous. That ten year old little boy is clawing at your heart right now, isn’t he?” Lifting your small hand to his chest, you traced a line along the length of his heart. “Tell him I said hello.” You turned around and moved to the door, but Alfie hurried after you.

“Pet, hang on, yeah, I’m just looking out for you. Talk to anyone here, alright. Do what you fucking want, but I don’t want to see you get hurt, and Sailor is going to do that, yeah, hurt you.” You inhaled deeply before looking back toward him. He knew Sailor better than you did. A roll of your eyes was enough confirmation for Alfie that he’d won. You moved back to the counter and set your arms on the surface. There was a lingering silence in the kitchen, one that was rather comfortable. But Alfie, as you figured he would, spoke up and broke it. “You look real pretty, you know? Didn’t expect you to grow up and look so.. like this.” He shyly shifted. You could tell he was struggling to flirt and that told you he didn’t do it very often. Sailor was forgotten in a span of just a few seconds.

“Did you think I’d be ugly?” You giggled out breathily before straightening. His head shook instantly, far quicker than you’d thought it would. He stepped closer, chest lifting with his intake of oxygen.

“No, just always expected you to look normal cute, not breathtaking.” Oh, he was good.

You stepped toward him then, fingers lifting to his chest. You just wanted to play with him, flirt with him, tease him like he was doing to you, but the hard muscles beneath the shirt made you lose the willpower to mess with him. Caressing the broad surface, your eyes moved between his own. “You don’t look too bad..” You smiled. “In fact, if I was as pumped full of alcohol as you, I’d probably have the courage to compliment you.” Your fingers trailed up to his jaw, lazily tracing the stubble poking out of his flesh. He smiled down at you before lifting his hand to your hip. He didn’t have any intentions of doing anything, he just wanted to protect you from the dicks he knew would come after you.

“Let’s pretend you’re drunk then.” He smirked. “I’ll take a compliment.” The giggle that left your lips was genuine. He’d put you on the spot and humor overrode embrassment.

“I’m not good with words, Alfie. You just.. You look really handsome. You- I didn’t expect you to be so good looking either. I mean, you were just a goofy boy I kissed because I thought you were dorky cute, but now you’re.. cute but also quite..” What was the word? “sexy?” You tried. Did that sound right leaving your lips? Apparently so, Alfie had gone red in the face. He flushed vibrantly before dragging you in closer to him. His eyes latched on to your own and his face neared. You gasped quietly before lifting your hand to his mouth.

“You’re joking.. right?” Another sharp giggle left your lips.

“What?” He straightened, visibly embarrassed that you’d stopped the kiss.

“You were going to kiss me just then!”

“No- no I wasn’t.” He attempted to pull a believable confused expression, but you could see it was fake.

“You were.” You smirked. “What’s the matter, Solomons, too shy to admit it?” His shoulders shrugged as if your words meant nothing. He could admit it, it just wasn’t the truth. “So you were just leaning in for what?” The air between the two of you was growing tense. Alfie just wanted to kiss you and the more you spoke about it, the stronger his urge became. And you, you wanted to kiss him now because all this talking about it was making you curious to kiss those big, plump, pink lips.

“For nothing.” He narrowed his eyes, tone growing to be a bit harsh, defensive. Your laughter was beginning to agitate him. It was too mocking.

“I didn’t know you still had a crush on me.” You teased, warm eyes watering from how much this situation tickled you. Alfie was growing frustrated. He felt like he was being taunted! He had no control over his automatic actions. His fingers curled around your hips and as if you were the weight of a rag doll, he lifted you, spun you around, and pressed you against the counter. His hand slid from your hip, along your side and up to your throat. He cradled your flesh delicately, hot breaths mingling with your own as he had an inner battle with himself. “Well, what are you waiting for?” You whispered hotly, breaths tickling his lips. His chest pressed to your own and his mouth didn’t hesitate in the slightest this time. He leaned in and pressed his mouth against yours, hand making its way from your jugular around to the back of your head.

Your mouths fought, both eager for the lead, dominance being tossed between the pair of you. Your arms wound around his broad shoulders, gripping on to him tightly — afraid he’d disappear. When you were ten, it was just pecks. A bird’s kiss. But this, oh, this was so much more passionate. Your tongue slid over his own, determined to taste him as much as you could. He was doing the same, practically devouring you. Little moans escaped your lips, mews, whimpers. Grunts fell from him, small sounds that made your ears twitch. His hips sunk forward, dipping so firmly against your own that you gasped out loudly at the surprising jolt of warmth and arousal that washed through you. Now that was a completely new feeling for you. “Alfie, I haven’t done that yet.”

—

“Alfie, I haven’t done that yet.” You finished the story off with a lazy grin. “You were going to try and screw me the first time you kissed me, cheeky bastard.” You stole a soft kiss from him before moving your mouth along his cheek and down south to his neck. Your kisses were chaste, sweet, just little actions of comfort, not anything that needed to lead to more.

“I was gentle with you, weren’t I?” He asked quietly. His body was heavy with warmth at the recollection of memories. And he did, very distinctly, remember you halting him when he tried to grind against you because you were a virgin. He remembered the tone of voice, the expression on your face. Your heavy pants, breathless from the kiss. He’d vowed in that moment to protect you from everyone. You’d be his and he made damn sure of it.

“Course you were, darling.” You hummed against his throat. “I don’t think anybody else would’ve been as careful with me.” Lifting your head so you could see him, your hands cupped his cheeks. “I hit the jackpot with you, Solomons.” Stealing another kiss before standing from his lap, you looked toward the fire that was dying again. Ensuring the flame vanished and the house wouldn’t catch on fire, you hunched over and grabbed ahold of your husband’s hand. “Come on, lets go to bed.. you can jog my memory over how you took my virginity.” Slapping his bum playfully when he stood, you hooked your arms around his waist and kissed the front of his chest. “Better yet, maybe you can show me.” Dragging yourself away from him, you raced toward the steps, bounding up them like a giddy child, mostly because you had to pee and wanted to do so before the man got his greedy hands on you. Alfie was hot on your heels, stomach flipping with happiness and smile gracing his lips. He was so in love with you, it worried him. How could two people be so utterly devoted to one another. The man followed you into the bathroom before slamming the door shut.

The empty streets were silent. Not a cricket chirped or a bird cawed for all the creatures were fast asleep, too exhausted to make a peep. But the couple, tucked away inside the bathroom, were too happy and giddy to be as sleepy as the surrounding occupants of the world. Giggles fell from your lips as you tried your best to keep him away so you could at least use the bathroom, but soon enough the house’s peaceful aura would be overridden by the loud noises escaping the bedroom — if the two of you could even make it there — and the thin walls meant the neighbors were sure to wake up. But none of that mattered, all that mattered was that the childhood sweethearts, wrapped around each other in a passionate embrace, were happy. And nothing would ever ruin that.

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A/N: HI IM REALLY PROUD OF THIS AND I LOVE THE WAY IT TURNED OUT!!!

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