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#Solomon’s an absolute fool in love-

lovetei · 9 months

Note

Heyyy,

I saw your toxic things the demon bros will do to keep you with them and i absolutely fell in love with. More of, my mental health issues felll in love with- ANYGAYSzz

I was wondering if you could maybe do the same for the side characters¿¿¿¿

Also did you drink water today? Cuz if thats a no here you go 💧💧💧💧

And some cookies just incase 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

Love anonymous 👑

I'm not actually supposed to post anything for tonight, because I don't know? I didn't get to start anything this morning so I crammed this post T_T

But love lots! Hope you enjoy this piece ^^

But seriously, I was like "Oh shit, the algorithm I don't have!" And proceed to finish this.

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What are the most toxic thing they will do in a relationship just to make you stay with them?

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Warnings: Manipulation, yandere themes, execution, mention of torture, psychological torture, love potions, Mentions of murder, framing, alcohol

Links: Masterlist

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DIAVOLO will use his authority

He's already so happy to have you by his side

And by staying there you already secured the position of the next ruler that will stand beside him

So, why do you have to leave..?

And the reasons

"I'm not fit enough..."

"I don't deserve this much..!"

"There are more people out there that are more worthy than me..."

Won't cut it.

He knows your worth and he's sure you do too.

So why?

Perhaps you're just nervous that you won't be able to match his grace?

You don't need to.

His grace is unmatched among the demons and yours is too among the mortals.

You both are on the same chapter, just on different pages.

So why make things hard for yourself?!

All you need to do is say yes and everything will be taken care of.

Clothes, food, money, status, security and literally anything.

He loves you and you does too so it's not going to be a marriage with no love...

SO WHY?

You're starting to drive him insane, MC.

And he might just do the same to you

So he'll invite you over for a fancy dinner and a few drinks

You accepted, despite knowing that Diavolo might try something after he got you drunk

Thinking that Diavolo forgot that you can't get drunk by just a basic demonus

Fool

That's what you are for thinking Diavolo actually misses something, anything about you

So he changed the bottle of demonus to an actual human liquor but neutralized it's taste by the help of his one, loyal servant

Barbatos

Not even two hour passed by and you're already putty in his hands

Dancing just like how he wants it on his palms

Then he'll slide a paper into the table to you, together with a beautiful pen

He then point at an empty line with his finger and said "Look at that MC, this line right here wants your signature."

"Hmm, why?~"

"Because it's such a huge fan of you and it needs you to become something, someone better, so why don't you give it a sign?" Is what he said while smirking.

And there you are, signing the papers while your mind is clouded with alcohol

Oh what is it?

Just a marriage contract

You don't want it?

Look into rules and regulations, Claus 5

It's against your human rights?

How foolish, you're not in the human world.

You will tell the whole Devildom about it?

Lèse majesté

And what's the punishment for committing that? Simple.

Death.

BARBATOS and his timeline power

He loves you

So much actually

At first, it was fun to be in a relationship with him

It's fun, slowly opening him up like a present and seeing the gift, a part of him that only you know.

He builds up trust for you and so do you for him

Then it started to get suffocating

He won't admit it openly but you know,

You know that the one who kills anyone who dared act close with you is him

And it terrifies you

You may allow it if it actually harms you, severely

But it's not for your protection anymore

He's doing it out of pure annoyance now

He doesn't like you around the brothers

The angels

Solomon

Thirteen

Or even Lord Diavolo

In fact, he doesn't want you around anyone.

And it's making you feel more unsafe

He's starting to isolate you from everyone and everything

He's trying to isolate you from the world

So you decided to end things with him

And he doesn't seem to take it lightly like how you expected...

How did you know?

Simple.

You woke up weeks before that break up happened

You know how it happened and you know who made it happen

It's none other than your boyfriend of course

You thought that maybe if you talk nicely with him he'll actually understand the problem

But he didn't

He started to get more and more aggressive with you

Then when the week end

It repeats

And repeats

And repeats again

And again

But it will keep going on like that until you learn

Until you learn that there's no other option than him

No other ending than him

He doesn't mind driving you crazy if it means you'll continue to love him

So good luck, MC.

SIMEON might just ask Father for help

Ho doesn't understand!

Why would you want to break up with him?!

He did everything, MC!

It's not clear!

Nothing is clear!

You just belive that you two are not fit together..?

You don't want him to end up like Lilith..?

He doesn't care!

He'll burn these precious, white wings for you!

He'll kill for you!

He'd actually prefer to end up like Lilith rather than this!

Because, at least, Lilith managed to be with her love until her life ended...

He'd rather be a demon or a human rather then live like the adored angel he is without you...

...

You'll still leave huh?

Alright then.

I guess he has no choice but to ask Father for help

What do you mean it will cause him to fall? Oh dear, it won't.

It might actually even promote him into a higher rank.

Father wants you in his side.

In fact, the whole celestial realm want you on this side

So when he asked "Father, it seems that we need to take even larger measure to have MC side with us. What do you think we can do?"

...oh?

Luke?

What a brilliant plan.

Now,

Let's see if you can still leave knowing an innocent life, Luke, will be put under danger because of this tantrum,

Because of you.

SOLOMON and his hidden antics

Oh dear, angel

His little devil

His most prized possession

His favorite concubine,

You won't be leaving him anytime soon, dear.

When you told him that "I want to break up with you."

He kept himself quite for a while before answering "Let me give it some thought, MC. For now, stay with me."

And just as he expected you listened obediently.

But then, his grip around your waits became more rough

And the hand he used to playfully wrap around your neck became more tight

It's hard...

It's hard to feed you his love laced cooking

But he found out that you just loves, adored even, Luke's baked cookies...

And since you're a human, he knows that Luke creates special cookies just for you

One that don't contain exotic ingredients that will upset your stomach

And it just made the work of latching love potions easier for him

He'll just add a few drops and it will do the magic for him

So, all he has to do sit tight

And wait for you to crawl back to his lap yourself.

RAPHAEL will use spears for example

Haha...

But he loves you, MC..?

He might just start crying if you say more

"Sure... But I'll make sure you'll come back to me..!"

At first, it sounded like a joke and it's funny enough to make you giggle

The beautiful memories of peaceful separation didn't last long after you saw a dead body pinned by spears though

His spears, to be specific

It doesn't even make sense

You don't even know this guy...

He hasn't talk to you and you don't even know him

Hell, you don't even recognize his face...

So what's the catch?

Why is he killing completely random people...

That's what have been running around your mind

You haven't seen him around RAD anymore

And if you do he refuse to answer your questions

Except his face will lightly flush and he'll even smile a little before sa say "Ah~ It's nice hearing your voice..."

His tone, the way he says it, none of theme are innocent

And he made it known that he knows what he's doing

The curiosity didn't last long

Until you found out that the corpses aren't for you from him as a threat

It was for the families of the victims

You found out that each of them have high power among the nobilities of Devildom

And he killed them to make the families think that you're telling him to do so

It's not to make you feel guilty, it for them to start attacking you

Until you're pushed back to a corner where no one else can save you

Except for him.

MEPHISTOPHELES's way only

Ha...

Man he loves you so much...

But all he do is stare at you blankly after you told him you ant to break up

Staring at you like you're just some kid throwing a tantrum

It's Mephistopheles in front of you, I mean, he's rich, handsome, tall, smart and has good family background

If he's a human everybody would have gone crazy over him already

Plus he wears heels and he has a sexy cane

What more could you ask for?

But yeah...

You don't want to be with him forever?

Sure, he'll talk to Diavolo.

"I'll buy MC's contract and I'll put them under my wing." Is all the reason he needs to say and a few more to have Diavolo selling you

What about your family?

This amount will do right?

I mean...

He paid for what your worth so don't expect it to be much.

Anyways, you're his now

By the eyes of the law, money and his

He'll never let you get away?

And if you did try to?

He'll simply frame you for treason and let's see if you won't come crawling back to him

After finding out that he can choose what type of punishment, torture method, to give you.

But don't worry.

He likes the game cat and mouse

He don't like playing it for a long time though

So be careful

His patience isn't as long as the line of money and connection ahead of him

THIRTEEN basically holds your life

Break up?

"You're not." Is all she said as she holds your candle

She's grinning widely as she let your candle melt, its 's wax falling directly in her hands

"Why would you even want to?" She asked even though she knows, no reason can separate the two of you

And if you did say "I don't care." as she holds you candle

She might just accidentally extinguish one of your loved ones candles

So be careful, MC.

Among everyone

She's the only one who won't joke around.

And just so you know

Her patience is shorter than the amount of time it requires to kill someone's fire off of their candle.

#obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me nightbringer #obey me scenarios #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me angst #obey me Diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me Raphael #obey me Mephistopheles #obey me thirteen #obey me yandere

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matenrou-fan · 1 year

Note

Hello, hello!

May I request headcanons of Mammon, Solomon and Lucifer with a reader who likes to take naps at random places?

Mammon, Solomon and Lucifer with a GN! s/o who likes to take naps at random places

I haven't written anything for OM for a long time and I'm so ashamed of that… here, hope you will enjoy it!! <3

GNreader, fluff, just wholesome stuff;;

-"Huh?! Have you fallen asleep again?! Humans are so strange.."

-Mammon has no idea how you are able to find enough comfort in such places like your desk, kitchen's chair or something.. It's unbelievable, you're like Belphie!

-So expect some whines from your first man who keeps acting all annoyed and angry by your sleepy behavior. He wanted to play some games, actually, and you again fell asleep right when he brought a new deck of cards!

-..but he actually likes it. Because when you fall asleep like that, he has a chance to admire the beauty of your face more carefully, being much closer than he would allow himself when you're awake.

-"You have no idea how it hurts, s/o.." - he mumbled, not hiding his bright red cheeks as you didn't see it anyway. Instead, Mammon's hands are on your hair, as he fixes small locks that fall on your forehead. - "..to not be able to show you my whole feelings.. But it's my fault, isn't it? I'm just a fool who needs to be more bold.."

-It's one of his favorite things now. Talk with you about some sweet nothings that he's usually too shy to say out loud. ..yet most of the time it's all ended up with Mammon showering you with compliments. He can be quite poetic, actually, telling you some deep words that probably would make your stomach tickle if you would actually hear it.

-...Asmo catches him at least one time when Mammon has his casual chit chat with his adorable sleepyhead.

-As an avatar of Greed, he always preferred to hang out in his room where no one can poke their nosey little noses in his business with you and interrupt his fun by dragging you away. Also, Mammon is just hoping that you will fall asleep on his couch instead of the one that is standing in the living room. And then your generous boyfriend will have no choice but to keep you in his room for the whole night, carefully carrying you in his bed to cuddle.. and maybe to place a few kisses on your forehead?

-"S/o, look, I found out about this new curse.. Oh. Someone decided to take a little break?"

-It's amuse him so much, to see how you always don't miss a chance to have some rest, letting your guard down whenever he's with you. Well, you fall asleep so easily because you feel safe around him, no?

-Absolutely like to study with you. Or maybe study you? Solomon is sitting here, reading one of his magic books.. Or at least is what you think he's doing, when actually his eyes are fastened on your adorable face, watching and memorizing every small change in your expression as you slowly start to drift to sleep again, right while sitting at the table. It's much more interesting than any books he's ever read before or will have a chance to read.

-"You're so adorable like that, s/o.." - he chuckled, stroking your head before taking his phone from pocket and turning on the camera. - "You don't mind a little photoshoot? I swear to keep it only to myself.."

-Would love to wake you up with tickles or slight pinch in your cheek just to see your grumpy sleepy face as you mumble something under your breath. Teasing you is so fun, and now Solomon would drag another amusing reaction from you by showing off these precious pictures with you.

-But if you fall asleep during lessons he wouldn't even try to tap your shoulder or something, letting you have some rest and hiding your sleeping figure behind books. In this case you would have to pay a visit to Celestial Realm and borrow his textbooks as you don't remember anything from school today.

-And who knows, maybe another wave of laziness will hit you and you will fall asleep right in Solomon's room, leaning on his shoulder as he explains to you a new section. It's a good way to be alone with you, as you're always busy with Demon brothers.. Ahh, or maybe now he can play with you in a little fairytale? Do you remember how the prince woke up his Sleeping Beauty?

-"S/o, I was hoping you will help me with some paperwo- …Ahh, nevermind."

-Seriously? Again? After he literally caught you sleeping right on the floor in the living room this morning? Unbelievable..

-Well, it just means now you will spend all your evenings with Lucifer, as he's checking on you and not letting you fall asleep again. But then why did you always end up sleeping on his lap while he worked on some documentary? The way his arm patted your head is so soothing and soporific, turning your small nap into a whole full deepsleep, and absolutely not waking you up..

-I didn't tell you this but Lucifer absolutely loves to lend his coat for you whenever you fall asleep. Your face always gets so soft and he swears he can notice your smile getting bigger as you cling to warm fabric with the light smell of his cologne.

-"Huh.. You should be honored I let you slack off like that.." - he signs with furrowed brows, then a playful smirk appears on his lips as he tickles your face a little. - "But I'm expecting you to return a favor for me, angel.."

-Loves to tease you about this goofy habit, comparing you with Belphegor sometimes. Well, but his youngest brother never would be as adorable as you are, at least because you don't mind clinging to Lucifer's chest when he's hugging your sleeping form and playing with your hair.

-If you end up falling asleep somewhere beyond the walls of his bedroom, your lover doesn't mind just carrying you to his place, even if someone from his brothers finds your adorable defenseless form first. Of course he would just tell them that he's going to give you a proper punishment and scold you for being so careless when actually Lucifer can't wait to get this cute sleeping face only for himself to admire. Well, but he can teach you a lesson and wakes you up with a few kisses, right in your lips. If you want to receive more, then you should try to control your sleepy behavior, dear..

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peculiarbluerose · 1 month

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Hogwarts Legacy - Tips and Tricks

WARNING: May contain spoilers for Hogwarts Legacy

Personal experience, this does not reference videos

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• You can skip most of the dialogue if you don't want to hear it again (since you can't skip the tutorial segment of the game). You can do this with triangle (PlayStation), RMB (PC), or Y button (Xbox)

• Keep stocked up on Wiggenweld potions. These, even though they don't do a lot, will help you immensely.

• Thunderbrew is useful against the Graphorn. It makes storm clouds float above the player and damages nearby enemies.

• Don't worry; Sebastian, Natty and Poppy can take care of themselves and they don't have health bars. You don't have to worry about them.

• The RoR is SO useful, it's not even funny. After a quest with Deek, you'll have vivariums to maintain beasts, and you can get materials from them. This place also allows you to identify unidentified gear, upgrade gear, brew potions, grow magical plants, and you can customize it. Love this place.

• It's impossible to stop Sebastian from doing anything; just be careful how you respond. You'll see, if you don't already know what I'm talking about.

• You cannot be "evil" in the game, canonically. You can just be an absolute sleazeball, though. Don't worry, you'll keep your friends (somehow).

• Speaking of dialogue, your actions really don't have much impact on anything. Of course, it will influence how characters react to you, but there's really no consequences for your responses.

• Speaking of consequences, there's none of you use an unforgivable curse. If you're on PC, there's an Azkaban mod that allows you to be caught with dark magic and sent to Azkaban, just in case you want more realism.

• As for realism, you don't actually have a curfew. You can walk around all willy-nilly in the middle of the night with no repercussions. The person who made the Azkaban mod has a curfew mod that allows you to get caught at night, if you want the extra challenge.

• No, I'm not sponsored.

• Solomon Sallow will hate you regardless of your actions. You're friends with Sebastian, that's why. Don't take it personally.

• Brooms fly faster than hippogriffs, but hippogriffs ascend and descend faster than brooms.

• Rare events occur, such as the train at King's Cross Station arriving and leaving, the kraken saying hello in the lake (scripted event during the flying class), a suit of armor getting annoyed with another and turns the aggressive nudge into full-blown murder, amongst other things.

• Unsure what it is, but sometimes you'll find a ridiculous amount of dark witches and wizards in and around the Forbidden Forest... They won't hurt you, and you can't hurt them, but they're there.

• Speaking of the Forbidden Forest, there are a LOT of spiders. If you don't like them, are scared of them, have arachnophobia, etc., there's an "arachnophobia mode" in the settings, so they're less scary. Alternatively, there's a PC mod that turns them into burgers. This is good if you don't even want a slight resemblance of a spider in the arachnophobia mode.

• No, I'm not sponsored

• Sometimes, NPCs will describe you based on your hogwarts house (this can be seen in the "Minding Your Own Business" DLC quest in Hogsmeade)

• All four houses have their own quests (though they tie in to the same character and quest at the end).

• There are plenty of Easter eggs referencing the movies (one being the Shrieking Shack on the map in Hogsmeade where the Old Fool house is, just on the outskirts of Hogsmeade).

• Don't worry, Ravenclaw, you don't have to answer riddles every time you want to enter your common room.

That's all I got, homies

(P.S. Slytherin is the best house -from a very unbiased Slytherin)

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mcisanon · 27 days

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RambleFic: Obey Me Battle Royale!!!

So the Devs made an April fools in releasing a fighting game, and I think this is a perfect time to share about one of my imagines about JJK × Obey me.

Warning: GN MC, Rambles, OM references

IMAGINE:

MC, I believe, will be sporting a the Whip of Love as their cursed weapon. Their cursed technique will be a summoning technique called Nightmare. And they have a 50/50 chance of summoning a strong or weak curse or Demon. I could also see MC having a support type of technique called Deflower where they can give buffs.

MC, as we all know, is a strong sorcerer who can rival Solomon. Now, what does every powerful sorcerer have?

A Domain Expansion!!!

MC's Domain Expansion (in my case) will be called Absolute Authority. I was first thinking about just straight-up call it Obey Me, but ehh, it does not have a chilling factor for me.

If the domain is activated, everyone inside the domain will immediately wrap in chains. Absolute Authority means having a temporary pact with MC and that the subjects will have to obey every Master's command. Anyone who tries to harm the Master inside the domain will automatically result in a gruesome punishment.

Unlike Inumaki's cursed speech, MC's Absolute Authority does not give them a side effect, so they are able to give a whole sentence of command. The only setback they would get is from holding up the domain. They only have 666 seconds in holding up if it extends, then it make a toll in their body.

Author's note: sooo for your MC, if your MC is from the JJK verse, what will be theirs? Do please share, because i have yet to see anyone make one.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #om #obey me mc #obey me x jujutsu kaisen #om x jjk

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generalofchaosandsimpery · 2 years

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About the Replaced!MC Au...

A replaced MC AU where the usual stuff happens, Diavolo invites a new human exchange student, the brothers forget about you little by little, yadi yadi yada-

BUT THIS TIME! Instead of MC being either a depressed, self-harming selfless human who dies at the end, or being a badass, non-caring, sassy human who hangs out with the side characters...this MC is fuming. In my case, my sweet and cute MC that doesn't seem like she would cause harm...is a half-succubus, some-percent angel, human with a magical history, and to add on Solomon's training? Boom, one of the most powerful beings in the three worlds. Not to mention how she is secretly malicious and petty? How good she hides all of her disgusting sides? You really think she is going to let this go?

You think she is going to roll over and die, so this new student can take over all the handwork she put into that damn broken family?

HA.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

OF COURSE NOT!!! What bad boys, pushing their master to the side for some other human… Is her soul not the purest? Is she not the most powerful? Did she not help them?

Oh, what foolish demons~! BAD BOYS!!! SIT!!!!!!!!!!!

What is your MC waiting for? Is their 'moral compass' stopping them? There is nothing wrong with putting it to the side, after all, you are punishing bad behaviour of your demons! You still have their pacts!~ Don't be a fool, make them sit through the torture of a recording of all your happy moments, followed by all the naughty things they said to you~! Isolate them like they did to you! It can't be so bad if they did it to you, treat others how you want to be treated! That's how the saying goes, right? Go crazy! Insult them? Everything they told you, give it to them back tenfold! Guilt? Remind them of every wrong they did: hurt you! Terrified you! TRIED TO KILL YOU AND SUCCEED!!! Deprive them of their sins! Or make them worse! No food? No sleep? No luxuries? No sex? Go for it! Oh, did you know that MC is quite popular in Devildom? Well...why not record having 'special' time with your fans? And show it to your dear pets of how good behaviour looks like~ Make sure to record them too, so they always heave a reminder for whenever they misbehave~ Leave them as broken, blubbering messes, they will be good? They won't leave you? Forgive them please? Love them again please! LoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMe-

But of course, if you still want them with their wonderful personalities and not as broken dolls, don't break them completely! Just enough to know not to mess with you!~

Diavolo will forgive you, of course he would! Unlike those traitors, he actually wouldn't want anyone but you! And you are doing the justified thing of punishing them since they disobeyed their master! He will even provide his torture chambers! Barbatos doesn't mind serving you tea and pastries as you go on with your countless sessions, he also quite loves you, of course~ And the new student? Oh them, well depending on how they behaved, if they didn't mean any harm and had no idea, they can go back home with a warning, but if this was their plan the entire time? To embarrass you? To absolutely humiliate you and take your precious, precious, family? Oh what fun you can have with them! You can torture them as well! In another room! Make it as painful as possible! Make them wish they never tried to mess with you! MAKE THEM WISH THEY WERE DEAD! And now? You can either kill them, or put a curse on them to make their torture to last for entirety!

Or...Or better yet~

Put them in a room, and release your beloved pets on them, the student could beg them to help their poor little human, to kill you because clearly you are a psycho! But they won't hear a single thing~ Finally getting proper training, they realize they're wrong, how they should have always been on your side. And how they will gain back your praise and affection if this student was disposed of! And so, the next thing you hear throughout the night is painful screaming and the sound of shredding flesh and bones!

And the next thing they know, they are chatting in the cafeteria as usual, mocking and playing with each other like nothing was wrong, how nothing bad ever happened. The new human exchange student? Who? They know to act dumb, since that person has been wiped out of history. After the questions stop, and the lower demons leave. Mammon would look back at you with his puppy grin, eyes full of love and adoration, asking if they did good, and of course, you will look at them sweetly with a soft smile on your lips.

“Of course you did, my good boys~”

Everyone should know not to poke a lamb, they might have sharp teeth under that cute muzzle of theirs~ But of course that will never happen! We know how much they love you, they couldn't bear to live without you! So no need to think too hard about it okay~? It was just a joke~!

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mlmxreader · 5 months

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Walk Away | Alfie Solomons x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ “You fucking stay there” + “Love shouldn’t be something we have to hide”

[Maybe Alfie and partner have a fight about something in line with the business. Alfie continues on to conduct the dangerous work without them, but they end up there anyway because if he's stubborn, his partner is just as much if not more so] ❞

: ̗̀➛ You have never given up on Alfie, even when everything seems wrong and everything is awful, you have never given up on him - you are his only constant, if only because you're too stubborn to let him do it alone.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, smoking

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You and Alfie were far from happy with one another, scowling looks and short huffs, avoiding each other and every and any opportunity; it wasn’t always like that, though, even just half a day ago, things were absolutely fine and you and Alfie were just like any other couple in the world.

But then Luca Changretta came along, and you were far from pleased; the Italian-American gangster swinging his weight around everywhere and trying to play Alfie for a fool. You despised him and everything he stood for, even if he was far from Tommy Shelby in terms of being an absolute cunt.

But, as Alfie’s business partner, you made it known that you disapproved and that you thought getting into business with Changretta would mean death; Alfie refused, though, which was how the fight started.

He never raised a hand to you, never could or would, but shouting was a different matter; he could scream and shout at you just like you could scream and shout at him in return.

Everyone who worked for the pair of you knew better than to get in the way, scurrying off and scrambling away like rats aboard a sinking ship, desperate to find something to cling to; you couldn’t really say that you were surprised, though, you and Alfie were a forced to be reckoned with at the best of times.

But you could never give up on him, you could never bring yourself to be away from him for very long. Even if he was a fucking idiot.

So you sat there, smoking a cigarette and leaning against the window as you scowled and folded your arms across your chest; the Italian squirmed, sparing an uneasy look at you.

“Call your dog off, Solomons.”

Alfie shook his head, glancing at you. “We’re not on speaking terms.”

Changretta’s mouth fell open as he gawked at him. “You’re not on speaking terms with your own right hand?”

Alfie shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “My lieutenant has a mind of his own, I can’t fuckin’ do shit - once he’s got a scent, he ain’t gonna fuckin’ drop it.”

You glared at him, sneering as you exposed a few of your teeth; Alfie shot you a look back, and Changretta shifted uneasily in his seat. Clearing his throat, Alfie slid a stack of papers towards Changretta.

“My agreements,” he started, “and conditions. If you cock up, because you lot always fuckin’ do, I want no part in it.”

Changretta’s hand shook as he reached for the paper, flinching when you moved and planted your hand on the stack, hunched over and glaring at him; he swallowed thickly, looking between you and Alfie and knowing that the latter would not do anything to call off his dog.

“You fucking stay there,” you growled. “Do not fucking move.”

“Why don’t you step outside?” Alfie asked Changretta. “I need a word with my right hand.”

Changretta was all too happy to do so, nearly bolting out of the office; Alfie glared at you, snatching your wrist in his hand as he stood up and squared up to you, his voice low and harsh.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Saving your fucking arse,” you replied with as much malice as you could muster. “Do you seriously think he’s gonna keep to his fucking word? Do you not think he’ll fucking kill you the second he gets the chance?”

He clenched his jaw, dropping your wrist so he could run his hand down his face, shaking his head. “We’ve spoken about this already. Don’t keep fuckin’ tellin’ me that-”

“That it’s fucking dangerous to go out tonight with that cunt?” You hissed. “Tough shit, Alf. Whether you like it or not, I’m not gonna fucking stop telling you - it’s dangerous.”

He grumbled, but he should have known better; as stubborn as he was, you could often be worse. He wouldn’t budge for any man, but you wouldn’t budge for anything, not even the end of the world.

He knew that you made him look… well, you made him look like there wasn’t a stubborn bone in his body.

“If you don’t like it,” he growled. “There’s the fuckin’ door. You’re more than welcome t’leave this un out.”

You scoffed, raising your hand and gently laying it on his cheek. “You’re a fucking bastard when you wanna be, Alf. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You best be careful,” you warned him. “Because I’m not gonna be there to save your arse this time.”

He watched, sighing heavily as you turned and walked away; he clenched his jaw again, swallowing thickly as he tried to steady his nerves. It was the first time you had ever walked out on him, the first time you had ever refused to be at his side for anything; even when you were in the trenches together, you never left him like that.

You never walked away.

When the deadly mists blew harshly across No Man’s Land, you always fixed his gas mask before your own, knowing the risks. But now you walked away, and if he was honest, he wasn’t quite sure if he knew what to do about it. Still, he brought Changretta back into his office, and he finalised the plans for the night.

Guns of all kinds were strewn across the table along with knives, fire bottles and a few explosives; Alfie looked at them, and almost laughed. It looked like the Major’s table back in France, only this time, there were no bayonets.

Changretta and his men were talking across the room, going over the final plans and ensuring that everyone knew what they were doing, when the door opened. Alfie looked up, and slowly crossed over to the door.

He was quick to pin you against it, his hands either side of your head as he swallowed thickly.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You put your hands on his chest, tugging at his shirt slightly. “Making sure you don’t get killed.”

Alfie sighed, his breath shaky as he dropped his head, pressing his face against the side of your neck as he dropped his voice to little more than a mumble. “You’re gonna get yourself fuckin’ killed.”

“A life for a life,” you muttered, trying not to smile when he gently kissed your neck. “You saved me in the Devil’s Wood. I’m saving you now.”

He scoffed, his hands trailing down to your sides as he grumbled softly. “I thought you weren’t gonna save me.”

“I had a change of heart,” you grumbled back, gently pushing him away so you could look into his eyes. “You once told me that love shouldn’t be something we have to hide - so I’m not hiding it.”

Gently taking your hand in his own, Alfie turned to look at the others. “You sure you’re willin’ to fuckin’ do this?”

“No,” you shook your head. “But I can’t let you get yourself killed without me.”

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mongoose-bite · 8 months

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WIP Wednesday

No one tagged me; I don't care. I'm actually going to cut this bit, because it's not relevant overall and makes the pacing bad, but it seems a shame not to post it somewhere.

Once Joe and Nicky were writing poetry and essentially dared him to join them. Nicky attempted to be helpful by quoting Solomon 4:5 at him for inspiration, which it was absolutely not, but he’d genuinely tried to express himself for a good forty minutes and then he scrawled a few lines and a doodle and threw his pencil away. When the ladies returned, Joe and Nicky recited their efforts and Booker merely handed Nile his folded piece of paper.

Her eyes widened as she read his words and her smile broadened before she pressed her hand to her mouth, blinking a little tearfully before flinging her arms around his head and telling him she loved him for the first time in front of other people. Only Andy wasn’t fooled, because she was watching him, not Nile. Nile was eventually convinced by the others to show them what he’d written, and got pencils thrown at them both.

Sell this as the best love poem. He’d added a little caricature of himself in a state of despair, flinging pieces of paper around. She pocketed it anyway and he knew she still had it somewhere.

“You make me want to write poetry,” he told her later, and she told him that was pretty good for a first attempt. He kept trying, on and off.

#crunchy's fic #book of nile #the old guard

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hiswordsarekisses · 3 months

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Solomon did not follow the wisdom God gave him, he despised it, and this turned his heart away from God.

Knowing and/or teaching moral principles from God’s Word is not enough ~ make sure the teacher has a godly, spiritual life, otherwise we open doors to deception. A teacher must show an ongoing responsibility of putting God’s Word into practice.

That’s why the Bible says “let not many of you become teachers, knowing that we shall receive a stricter judgment.” (James‬ ‭3‬:‭1‬)

God says that if we turn at His reproof, He will pour out His spirit to us and make His Words known to us. (Proverbs 1:23)

He goes on in that chapter (proverbs one) to explain what He will do if we do not turn.

. . .To sum it up, He sort of shuts His heart up to us and lets us have our own way so that we will come to our senses. It’s more detailed and serious than that, but that’s my digest version. 🥹

The number one characteristic of a fool is to hate the knowledge and wisdom God gives - to hate His reproof, His counsel (which is His Word) and being corrected by it.

The word “hate” here is to “turn against it” - “to be its enemy” - so this is the absolutely the opposite of “heeding” His Word, and then some.

God says that the beginning of HIS wisdom is to Fear Him. He doesn’t want us to be afraid of Him - but He does want us to be afraid of the emptiness and fearful state that life is without His face toward us - to fear life outside His will. He will pour out wisdom on us to help us stay in His will when we fear Him.

If you read verses 22-33 of proverbs chapter one, it’s clear that we have plenty of reason to be afraid of God - when we are not turned toward His ways.

He loves us, and there is no depth that He will not allow us to fall, by our own devises - He knows what depth it will take to wake us up.

Clearly He laughs at His enemies, and we would not want you to be His enemy.

Spurning His reproof, despising His counsel (His Word!), and despising His reproof makes us His enemy.

But when we turn to Him - He turns toward us, and with love and grace He restores us and washes us with the water of His Word, and saves us by His counsel. 📖🥹🩷

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twiceasfrustrating · 2 years

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Hi Naomi!

I appreciate your writing on the Obey me boys - they’re lovely

I saw your post asking for a prompt. Hopefully there won’t be too many that you won’t be able to write mine 🥺❤️

I would like hc for the Obey Me boys and how they would congratulate and spoil you when you hit certain career milestones like after getting your first job, pay raise, etc. and they would take out you out on a nice dinner date or picnic. Please, thank you ☺️

Rating: General Audience

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Relationships: None

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos, Luke, Simeon, Solomon, gn!mc

Additional Tags: gn!mc (you/your), fluff

A/N: This is literally the nicest formatted request I have ever gotten. I admit that sometimes I just looked at it because of how nice it is. Congratulations are intended to be platonic so I included Luke (because he is a sweet child). If you want to assume the adults are romantic, go ahead.

Word Count: 1168

Lucifer

He expected nothing less from you. Anyone who would deny you is a fool. Thankfully, you found an organization that clearly is not foolish. He isn't one to congratulate you much past words, but the ones he speaks are full of such pride. He knows you are destined for great things and cannot wait to see how you make your new employers bow before you. You will be running the entire place within a year.

Mammon

The man was acting like he didn’t notice you going around telling everyone the good news. You looked so happy after all the worrying and hard work you’d put into getting this. Still… all he gave was a disinterested good job, trying to play off like he wasn’t as excited as you. It wasn’t until after he saw how everyone else was celebrating your success that he got serious. He can’t be upstaged by anyone else!

He waits until everyone else is busy, then he goes to you with flushed cheeks and congratulates you in private. He doesn’t have a gift, but he promises to get you one eventually. He’s really proud of you and knows you deserve this.

Leviathan

Of course you managed to do it. You’re amazing unlike him. NOPE! No negative thoughts! Only celebrating! He’s the type that gets you a gift when he hears the news. Ordered in especially for you. Probably a Ruri-chan figure. Maybe one of her adult demon form dressed in a secretary uniform so it’s fitting for the occasion? He probably ordered one for himself too while he was at it. He also got you a keychain so you always have something to remember him by (it is based on the symbol word by the Lord of Shadows).

Satan

He was the one who helped you prepare for the interview and made sure you went in with an unbeatable resume. That's why he can't admit that he was nervous when you went in. He sat with you for so long until the fateful phone call came in and he was the first one to hear you cheer after ending the call.

The dork he is celebrated by getting you a planner and new bad because you are now an important business person. Even if they are inappropriate for your job, he thinks they are well suited for you.

Asmodeus

Oh, darling! Of course you got it. What kind of idiot would reject you? You are absolutely perfect. Almost as perfect as him! Now let him pamper you all night in celebration (and so he can make sure you look amazing on your first day). You will be the envy of everyone that sees you. You’ll be climbing up the corporate ladder in no time with his help. No, he does not care if that’s not actually relevant to your job. You will look absolutely divine no matter what kind of job you are doing. Even if you have to wear a full-face mask, everyone will know exactly how amazing you are underneath.

Beelzebub

He brought you out to an all you can eat buffet. You know he did. He loaded up your plate with everything he could get his hands on. You better enjoy it while you can, because you will never be allowed back here again after Beel eats them into bankruptcy. This is how Beel shows his affections, so you’re grateful. After you eat so much that you can’t move anymore, he slings you onto his shoulders and walks home with you. It’s like you’re on top of the world (literally this time).

Belphegor

He slept through your excited cheers (somehow) and woke up to a very happy you scrolling through your phone while sitting next to him (trying to avoid everyone asking too many questions after you told them the good news). He’s a very calming presence, especially when he sleeps. He asked about the job and when you told him you got it, he only congratulated you, curled up next to you, and fell back asleep. He doesn’t make a huge deal of it, but he’s happy for you.

Diavolo

He promised he didn't pull any strings to get you the job or a raise or anything (it's a human realm job, after all). Everything you accomplished was on your own merits. He's so very proud of you and the grandiose party he threw proved that three times over. The entire realm was invited and you the only thing that stopped him was Barbatos and Lucifer telling him to stop going overboard.

Fiiiiine. He will do something more reserved. A small celebration will do. Just say the word. Anything you want can be yours if you just ask for it. He intends to spoil you rotten and there isn't a thing you can do about it. Well, nothing except accept.

Barbatos

He is most pleased by your news. Perhaps more pleased than even you are. You were so looking forward to finally getting this job and now it is rightfully yours. A simple invitation to tea will not do. He must do something more personal for you. Perhaps you would enjoy an evening out. He’s heard that humans like fairs? Or maybe you would prefer a more reserved picnic? He just wants to take you out to celebrate your accomplishment.

Luke

He has never had a job, but that doesn't stop him from spending hours in the kitchen making you a celebratory cake. It has tiers and each one is a different flavor. It has buttercream and not fondant. And there are. So. Many. Sprinkles.

It's way too big for just you, so it ends up getting shared with almost everyone, but they aren't allowed to take a bite unless they congratulate you (Luke's rule and he is power tripping on it).

Simeon

If I may be so self-indulgent: he already knew you were going to get it (he never had a doubt), so he was preparing for this day with bated breath. He has the most glorious feast prepared when you get home and he’s dragged everyone in to celebrate. It’s basically a party. There are even gifts; some are practical while others are pure indulgent. He somehow convinced Lucifer to dress up for it and you get the sneaking suspicion that was him just taking advantage of the situation.

Solomon

He is very proud of you; makes a few jokes about how boring your life is going to be with a real job. Wouldn't you rather be his assistant? It doesn't pay as well, but it's more fun. Unfortunately, you have to make money like the average human, so you have to turn down his generous offer.

He offers to make you dinner in celebration, but you quickly ask to go out instead. Or, better yet, maybe a night in. An old fashioned human sleepover. Just two humans making the best of it with each other. You both get really drunk (possibly off soda).

#obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me headcanons #mine #request #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me solomon

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technicolor-rhapsody · 1 year

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Love Psalms; Their Attendant, a Brief Respite

A/N: no notable triggers. Just some fluff with a dash of angst. Takes place during Nightbringer

Read also on AO3 💀 Previous Chapter

It's become a normal thing for Lucifer to lose track of time in his newfound work. It's not unusual for him to labor through the night, nor would it be odd for him to experience a multitude of interruptions. However this night was different.

There were no squabbles to settle, no petty questions to entertain; no bargaining about rules or punishments. Absolute silence. And that is truly terrifying. For not only was there silence in the his office, there was a quietness throughout all the House of Lamentation.

That surely could not be a good omen.

He searches throughout the house for any sign of his brothers or the troublesome attendant. No one in the kitchen or planetarium. No peeps or answers when he pounded upon their doors. The living room and library were completely empty as well. Worry and anger start to take over while he envisions all the possibilities of trouble and chaos they've gotten into.

All of that disappears when he opens the door to the guest room. There in an almost puddle were his brothers and you. You were in the center with each demon brother trying to be near you in some way. Belphagor was by your head, sharing his pillow with you. Mammon was damn near ontop of you, holding onto your waist. Same was cuddled up to one side of you while Levi was on the other. Satan and Beel while on the outer ring of the amalgamation, found a way for each of them to hold one of your hands.

Lucifer merely stands there, staring at the sight before him. It's been a while since he's seen his brothers so peaceful. And you looked equally as tranquil, almost as if you belonged there with them. It's not something he would admit outloud but it was a touching sight. It reminds him very much of their time back in the Celestial Realm; laying in the fields of everlasting flowers, basking in the sunlight and having nothing but saccharine dreams.

Those times are gone now.

He sighs and carefully navigates around the room, grabbing a couple of blankets and covering up you and the sleeping demons.

It still puzzles him how quickly and easily his brothers could be so attached, so enamored with you. Besides the strange bit of magic you possessed there was truly nothing special about you. No noble birthline to speak of either. Mundane. Plain. A pain in the ass. And yet you managed to work your way into their hearts like maggot wriggles through fruit.

He supposes it doesn't matter so long as he at least kept you at arms length and you did your required duties. You may have them fooled but he won't let you in so easily. And if it came down to it, his brothers would come first; always.

Lucifer gives one last glance to the cuddle puddle before flicking the light off and leaving. As he walks back towards his study, he texts Solomon to let the sorcerer know you'll be staying the night in his household. A slumber party, as Asmo would say --- quite literally indeed.

There's a pang in his heart when he thinks back to the scene he just saw. How could something so sweet leave such a bitter after taste?

He knows why. Because of that he resigns himself to jump back into his paperwork. He takes a large gulp of the Demonus he poured earlier. He'll drown it all out.

This is their life now. There's no changing that. What he can do is make sure they have what they need yet most importantly of all, protect them at all costs.

#obey me fanfiction #Obey me fanfic #obey me Nightbringer #Obey me nightbringer fanfic #Obey me shall we date #obey me x female reader

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wyrdhearth · 5 months

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@sunderdust : ❝ I could have sworn you liked me for a minute there. you know, before you found out that I'm a lowly mercenary, and not the prince of your dreams. ❞

she's about at the end of her wits, fighting to keep her composure as her fingers curl into fists. her perfectly manicured nails press painfully into her palms, but it's better than risking biting through her lip. can you imagine the blood? the swollen, split skin? absolutely not. sev'erae curates her beauty with an almost obsessive focus –– such care is visible from her luscious hair to her shining shoes. she won't allow some scoundrel that eliza found on the street to disrupt that, no matter how dastardly he appears to be.

❝ you lied to me, ❞ sev'erae spits, the vibrant violet of her irises barely visible through her glaring gaze. ❝ of course, I liked you –– I thought you were who you pretended to be. and now I have to make as if I'm madly in love with... ❞ well, he's not hideous, is he? at least there's that. his face may be attractive, but there's no getting around his inferior everything else. ❝ ––with you! ❞ she finishes, dismissively.

sev'erae strides up to solomon, face tilted up so he has to bear the full brunt of her regard and all the entitled annoyance that comes with it. ❝ let's make one thing clear: now that you've started this little con of yours, you have no choice but to see it through. I won't be made a fool of. ❞

#sunderdust #threads.#sev'erae keljorn: au one.#sev'erae keljorn: threads.

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 2 years

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Ink & Rum Raisins (Alfie Solomons x Reader, Modern AU)

(Credits for the images in the moodboard go to their respective owners. The absolutely gnarly Anubis is by @/dugagau (IG))

Genre: Romance, Humour, Modern AU

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Alfie Solomons x Dutch Fem!Reader

Word Count: 12.3K

Warnings: a lot of swearing, Alfie being a gentleman, size kink, unrequited crush/love/lust (or is it? Also, I’m sorry, but the reader, like me, has a thing for older men), allusion to smoking/vaping, allusion to past violence

Summary: Prequel to Mokum Part 1.

Alfie

There was once a little dove, yeah, who found herself in a shithole of a place called Birmingham. Little brave thing that she was, she flew over the wolves living in it, looking for the one she had business with. Now, this wolf, right, was already an older chap, greying and with a bloody bad leg. He was, no, is the King of Camden. Anyways, the little dove found him and the wolf and her agreed upon a contract, according to which he provided his services. He soon found himself rather charmed by her, perhaps because he reminded her of days gone or because she awakened something in him, a reminder of a fantasy he hadn’t dare to fancy in a long time. And that’s why he coaxed the little thing into a deal.

Because he’s a selfish, in her words, bastard.

Caught between vice and virtue, unsure which of the two she is.

Y/N

I had heard the stories about the eccentric Alfie Solomons, owner of King of Camden Ink in London. However, when he announced he’d fulfill a guestspot at Shelby Tattoo Company in Birmingham, there was no way I could pass up the rare opportunity to be tattooed by one of the biggest (though infamous) names in the industry and get myself one of his gnarly yet gorgeous pieces.

In hindsight, if I had to do anything differently, I would have picked any other spot on my body but my thigh, simply to save myself from transforming into a bumbling fool. However, I would happily relive the whole experience even though it was quite... turbulent, to say the least. And, I’ll be honest, Alfie’s a bit of a bastard. Nevertheless, I’d do it all over again.

I wonder if butterflies see the potential danger in roses. The thorns, I imagine, could rip their wings if they come too close. Fancy could be their downfall. Then again, they never live long, do they?

Author’s Note: Oh my days, it’s at last, the first segment in the behemoth this Alfie Solomons romance has become. This particular story started out as a one-shot, but gradually grew longer and longer up to the point I now have at least enough of a story to write a novella.

Bloody hell, anyways, I made the reader Dutch because I’ve never seen anyone do that before (mind, I’m willfully ignoring the Dutch fanfiction I’ve come across because it was... not good, and that’s putting it politely) and since I’m Dutch myself and this tale is based upon actual events and conversations, I thought, ‘‘Well, why the hell not?’’

Also, this is the first thing I’ve written and edited since my thesis, so if it sounds rather formal or even academic in places, it might be because of that. I’ve yet to get accustomed to writing fiction again.

But, without further ado, kick back, relax, and enjoy the story.

Monster Masterlist / TH Masterlist

Having jolts of electricity shooting throughout your body and making your hands a bit jittery while your stomach seems to tie itself into a permanent knot is only natural when something exciting is about to happen. And as long as there is coffee nearby, the nerves can be fairly contained. In my personal opinion, that is.

However, when getting tattooed it’s better to not drink coffee before the appointment and let your emotions run wild. Now, I can only confirm for the former it helps the tattooing process because you do not want to start bleeding more than might be the case in a non-caffeinated scenario. The latter, on the other hand, is perhaps worse than a caffeine overdose. What also does not help my current case is entrusting part of my body to a man, regardless of his talent.

Another unhelpful detail is that I am about to go to a shop where practically only men work. Although, if I’m lucky, the two resident female artists have an appointment today too. We don’t have to have a conversation, interact at all, but it would make the environment more pleasant if I’m not the sole feminine presence.

Then again, I suppose I brought this down on myself. When I saw that Alfie Solomons would have a guest spot at Shelby Tattoo Company, I knew I had to get an appointment somehow. A holiday to Birmingham and getting a tattoo by a brilliant artist? Two birds with one stone, count me in.

Alfie has become somewhat of a celebrity in the tattoo community thanks to his art, inspired by various religions around the globe, specifically focusing on its monsters, demons, and other animal symbolism. The designs are gnarly yet awe-inspiring, the blacks stark and each element easily discernible despite the dark ink. For this specific guest spot he noted he’d only do flash and wanna-dos. Fortunately for the both of us, I’m obsessed enough with ancient Egypt to dedicate a part of my skin to the god of its Underworld and the dead.

The skin of my right thigh, to be precise.

And that’s where the problem lies.

For my other tattoos, I went to a women-run tattoo studio because I’m more comfortable with having a woman tattoo me. That is, of course, not to say all male tattoo artists aren’t to be trusted, because there are genuine sweethearts out there, and that women can’t be predators or walking red flags themselves. I, myself, have simply heard one too many tales of a woman being mistreated by a male tattoo artist to entrust them with the intimacy that comes with getting a tattoo.

Quite a contradiction, innit, considering the fact I’m about to let Alfie, a bear of a man, tattoo my thigh? Let’s call it a leap of faith, spurred on by incredible talent no one else possesses.

A sacrifice of principles in the name of art.

Sounds rather poetic when I put it like that. Better than ‘I want new ink and that Anubis looks fucking awesome. I want it. I’m gonna get it. Don’t care if I’m gonna have to travel.’

Yes, a sacrifice for art. We’ll keep it at that.

The bus stops on Victoria Street, a small straightforward walk away from Shelby Tattoo Company in Small Heath. Red brick worker’s houses line the wide cobblestone street, the occasional old storefront among them hinting at what the edifice was used as in days past. Stone steps inlaid in a patch of grass lead up to the main street, an older couple descending them. The woman holds firmly onto her husband, her arm looped in his. He, in turn, clutches the railing for dear life. Nonetheless, it’s a sweet sight, an affirmation Love and Romance still exist.

‘‘The destination is on your right. Shelby Tattoo Company.’’

I turn off the navigation and tuck my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. For a second I remain unmoving, merely looking at the handle of the door.

Breathe in… breathe out. It’s gonna be fine. It’s gonna be okay. Alright, let’s go!

The mental prep has done little to still the tremble in my fingers, but my racing mind becomes eerily clear when I push the front door open.

The single step across the threshold must have been noisy or his hearing is like a bat’s because my entrance rouses the bulking figure in the corner of the shop. He’s clad in a white shirt and jeans, his long brown hair tousled and haphazardly slicked back as best as possible.

The man spins around on his stool, the movement languid and wary. A brief silence settles in, a moment in which we look at each other quizzically. In fact, it might even be safe to say we’re trying to estimate each other, guessing at how much danger hangs in the air.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asks, a note of caution in his Cockney accent as he strokes his beard.

“I- I have an appointment. W- With Mr Solomons,” I stammer, feeling like a child caught red-handed trying to steal a cookie.

And that immediately shows how much of an actual threat I am

“Ah, Y/N! Shalom!” Alfie rises to his feet and swaggers over, precariously balancing his weight to hide his limp as best as possible. His broad shoulders block out the light as he comes to a halt, a polite distance between us. I tilt my head to look up, mentally cursing my genes for making me a head shorter than him and myself for the flutters of a butterfly storm in my stomach, caused by the height difference. “Welcome.”

He tilts his head and huffs, strangely amused. “I see you’re wearing new pants.”

“How- How’d you know they’re new?”

This is already getting sus. Maybe I should turn tail and run.

“I follow you on Instagram,” he says matter-of-fact and shrugs. “I saw you had a new Story, one about buying pants to get tattooed in.”

“You,” I point at him and then at me, still not registering his words, “follow me? On Instagram?”

“I do,” Alfie casually confirms. “If you don’t believe it, go see for yourself.”

He gestures for me to grab my phone. “Go on, check.”

My face pales when the follow button turns a light blue and states follow back.

Oh God, he’s seen my Stories. Seen my cat Stories. All the bullshit I posted.

Alfie leans in, the light providing extra definition to his toned arms, crossed firmly over his chest. “I don’t think you looked like shit. Those jeans look good on you.” The glee of being proven right melts into a curious pondering. “Boyfriend jeans, was it? Yeah… They look good on you.”

What does he mean by that? Is he flirting? Or is he being himself? I mean, I’ve heard he’s a bit eccentric, but what do I do?

Apparently nothing, because my feet are rooted to the spot, my mind erupted into pure chaos with not a single coherent thought thinking of walking out the door. So I remain where I am, still like a statue.

Until Alfie claps his hands. “Right! I won’t lie and say I’m not ecstatic about you picking the Anubis design.”

He turns around and walks to his station to grab something. After a quick search, he returns with two pieces of paper and his tablet. An expression like water has been poured over him to wake him from a dream passes over his face. A funny contrast with the warm gesture towards the worn leather sofa.“Where are my manners? Please, sit down. Tea? Coffee?”

“Ah, no, thanks. I’ve already had two cups of coffee and I don’t want to turn into a bouncy ball.”

“Water, then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I printed the design in two sizes, the original and a smaller one. I think both will work fine, but I’ll leave the decision up to you. Also, I’d like my clients to fill in a form. It’s kind of a dossier, right, only accessible to me of course. It’s due to the new regulations on ink, you know how fond the authorities are of control and paperwork, and to document which ones I used in case you get a reaction. It’s also nice to know, in general, I have your consent to place the tattoo. All you need to do is put your signature on the line at the bottom.” He puts the pieces of paper on the coffee table and carefully hands the tablet and stylus over.

I look over the form, fill in the missing details, and sign the form. In the meanwhile, Alfie pours a glass of water, judging by the sound of an opening and closing fridge from a bottle rather than the tap.

“Piece of lemon?”

“Pardon?”

“Lemon? Would you like a slice in your water?’’ he patiently repeats, adding playfully, ‘‘It’s wonderfully refreshing.”

“My, what luxury!” I exclaim in a terrible imitation of a posh accent.

“I only want the best for my clients,” he says, though it’s unclear whether he’s serious or playing along. All the same, with a bit of a show, he grabs a cutting board, a knife, and a lemon from the net sitting in the corner of the counter. Sonorously, he hums along with the jazz song that plays over the speaker as he slices the fruit and adds two slices of it to the glass of water.

After washing his hands, he holds out the glass like a butler would. “Here you are, madam.”

“Thank you,” I say, cheeks warm. “Let’s trade. Here’s your tablet back.”

“What’s your email?” he asks after looking over the form. “I’ll send a copy to you. It’s always good to have a backup of important documents like this, innit?”

A brief flash of confusion passes over his face when I tell him the part of my email which contains my last name. Unable to suppress a giggle, I resort to spelling it out to not subject him any further to the difficulties of the Dutch language.

“Hold on, slow down.’’ He mumbles the letters to himself, the stylus making soft tick tick tick sounds. ‘‘Alright, carry on.’’

The last bit is evidently easier to keep up with. Everything noted, he turns the screen to me for a final check. ‘‘That correct?’’

I nod in confirmation

‘‘Alright. Now let me just… there. Sent.’’ The furrow in his brow smoothes out now the paperwork is done. Alfie puts the tablet on the coffee table, sits down and leans back in the chair across from me, thick fingers entwined. ‘‘So that’s how you pronounce your last name?”

‘‘Yep, but I do admit I anglicised it. In Dutch it sounds like this.’’ With a little mental effort, I temporarily suppress the innate tendency to use English. An effort well-spent since it earns me the joy of the look of utter befuddlement anyone who is not acquainted with my native tongue gets once they hear it.

“Okay, now, see, I did not expect such a last name after hearing you talk.”

I tilt my head, puzzled. “How’d you mean?”

“Your accent and last name don’t add up. Unless you’re married, but you’re not, are you?”

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the mention of marriage. “Where’d you think I’m from?”

“Either Dublin and Belfast, but now I’m leaning more towards the latter.” A mischievous though well-meaning grin tugs at the corners of his lips. “You have a tendency to go down with your intonation and your speech almost has a slight underlying growl like they have in the north. Do you have family there?”

“None. I have no ties to Ireland aside from my travels.”

“Do you mean Ireland as one country or do you make the distinction between the north and south?”

It’s the Republic and the north, but I’ll let it slide.

“Are you asking my opinion on the border?” I ask, a wary tone in my voice.

“I think I already have my answer.” Like a pleased cat, he entwines his fingers only to individually crack them a moment later. “Anyways, let’s not talk about politics. It’s all the same, toffs unable to agree on what they think is a matter of the common people like you and me but is essentially a bureaucratic quarrel that’s nothing to do with the public whatsoever. Sharks eat fish smaller than themselves to survive. Big fucks small always.”

He clears his throat and leans forward. “Have you decided yet?”

“Well…” I start, overwhelmed with thoughts of the various outcomes and permanency of the matter.

Before I can make an attempt at a proper answer, Alfie picks up on my indecisiveness. “If you want, you can try both. We’ll tape both sizes to your leg and you can tell me which size you prefer.”

“Sounds good,’’ I say, letting out a small sigh of relief. ‘‘First, though, let me put my shorts on. Where’s the restroom?”

He points to somewhere behind me. “Behind the door with the chrysanthemums.”

I stand up, grab the pants from my backpack, and slip into the restroom. It only takes a minute or two to change, but nevertheless I find myself unable to go back out into the studio right away.

I bought these especially for today. Shit, he saw that Story too, didn’t he? And what if other men walk in, be it clients or tattoo artists? What will their first thought be?

A gentle knock on the door violently jolts me back into reality. On the other side, a familiar baritone voice calls out, concern evident in the simple question. “Y/N, you alright?”

“Yeah,” I answer, opening the door a crack and slipping through it, “I’m fine.”

Alfie takes me in, gaze unwavering and expression unreadable. His body also shows no hints eluding to his train of thought. The peculiar investigation ends with a low hum.

What was that? Does- Can he read me like an open book? Is that what he just did?

Without knowing whether he did and hesitant to ask, I let the matter rest.

We move over to the large mirror covering the wall nearby his station. The tattoo artist makes a brief detour to his station to put on a pair of black latex gloves before sauntering over to kneel down. For a second I wonder what it would be like to cup his cheek, how his beard would feel against my palm as I’d turn his face to make him look up at me.

Part of the fantasy comes true, because he lifts his head. “May I?”

More than a second passes before I register what he means. Then I notice his hands a few centimetres from my thigh, ready to place the first design, the one with the original size. Instead of an answer, too afraid of what might come out of my mouth, I swallow and nod.

With precision, he sticks the piece of paper to my skin, smoothing it out to display its full potential. Smiling proudly, showing his slightly crooked teeth, Alfie rises to his feet and puts his hands on his hips. “What do you think? We could also mirror the design, but that would make Anubis face your…” he vaguely gestures, struggling to find the words that are polite enough. Evidently, he can’t find them, settling for “you know.”

I model the design, twisting my leg this way and that, all the while trying to ignore Alfie standing with his arms crossed in the background. However, there is only so long I can close him out so eventually I search for and meet his eyes via the mirror, furiously trying to hide my nerves under only a half-feigned expression of exhilaration. “Let’s do it.”

“Are you sure? You don’t want to try the other size?”

I turn around, forcing myself to maintain his gaze. “I’m a fairly small person, so I think the size is just right.”

“No mirroring?”

“Nah, let’s keep it classy.”

The low chuckle rising from the depths of his throat ignites a pleasant warmth that spreads throughout my body. “If the lady says so. I’ll get everything ready, so sit back with a snack or, if you want, there’s plenty of time to go outside for a smoke.”

“I don’t smoke, so I’ll go with the former,” I say as I plop down on the worn leather couch.

“That’s likely the better option of the two. Nicotine and tobacco are vices, ones I’m only too guilty of indulging in. Although, I’ve recently switched to vaping. Less stank, less laundry, better for the environment and clients.”

“I don’t mind the smell of cigarettes too much, but I do admit I prefer the smoke of vaping above that of regular smoking. Sometimes it smells quite good, actually. Kinda sweet.”

“Depends on the cartridge. See, like whiskey, yeah, the flavour is dependent on the environment, the way it is brewed. I prefer rum myself, though.”

“I’ve never tried it.”

Alfie turns away from the printer busily cranking out the stencil. “You never had rum?”

I shake my head. “I generally don’t drink, but if I do, I tend to stick to my favourites. Licor quarenta y très, amaretto, limoncello, Guinness, whiskey.”

“Irish or Scottish?”

“Generally Irish.”

“Of bloody course,” he chuckles. “My family has a rum distillery, based near London, but we sell the stuff throughout the country in shops run by family members, of course. There’s one in Birmingham, so if you tell them I sent you, I’ll make sure there’s a bottle ready for you. Free of charge, of course, because it’s the least I can do to save you from that sin.”

“The sin of not knowing the taste of rum?”

“Exactly! When are you leaving England?”

“Tomorrow. And, unfortunately, I only have hand luggage, so there is no way I could take the bottle with me.”

“Hm, that’s too short notice…”

“We can make good on this later? I mean, this isn’t the last time I’ll be in England.” I cross and uncross my legs, feeling rather self-conscious. “Or we could meet at a convention? I don’t know whether you’ll be attending one in Holland any time soon, but-’’

“I’ll be attending the Amsterdam Tattoo Festival in September,” he interrupts me, fortunately saving me from having to finish a sentence I don’t know how to continue. “We could meet then, if you’d like? Or are you planning to go to the London Tattoo Show?”

“Unfortunately, I have to skip that one since I don’t think my bank account will allow it. Especially considering I’m planning to quit my job soon and do some travelling around Scotland and Northern Ireland for about a month, which won’t be cheap.” He mumbles something under his breath in response, the words bleeding into each other to form an incoherent mess. However, the disagreeing tone is a hint that he disapproves of something, whatever it might be. “But I’m planning to go to Amsterdam too, so, could we- we could-’’

Stop being such a coward. Just ask already, for God’s sake!

“I’d like that,” Alfie cuts in as if he’s read my mind. Stencil in hand, he turns back to me, his features soft. “Gives me plenty of time to make good on my promise.”

We return to his station, a polite distance between us. Alfie sits down on the stool and grabs a disposable razor, which he puts down again with a hint of slight surprise after inspecting my leg. “Already shaven, eh?”

I run a hand through my hair while my stomach quivers. “Yeah. I thought it would be polite. Also, I can’t stand my legs being hairy. My arms neither.”

“I wish more people had that mentality. Then again, humans tend to be selfish creatures,’’ he grumbles while pulling on a new pair of gloves.

“Are there really that many clients who don’t shave?”

“More than you think, darling, but it makes me all the more appreciative of clients like you.”

The ‘darling’ means nothing. Stop being a fucking idiot and don’t get your hopes up. He literally just confirmed you’re just a customer, a source of income.

“Right, before we start, would you like to use numbing cream? We could also use nutmeg oil, if you’d like.”

“Nutmeg oil?”

“It’s completely vegan and helps relieve the pain,’’ Alfie explains. ‘‘It has quite a strong scent, though, so I hope you’re not faint of heart. Or, rather, have a sensitive nose.”

For a moment, I contemplate the options, weighing past experiences against each other. Thus far, line work has never been a problem and blackwork hasn’t been either. “D’you know what? Let’s go without.”

“Tough as nails,” he says with a hint of awe and appreciation. “You’re full of surprises, in’t ya?”

“Am I?”

“So far, yes. A young Dutch woman with a misleading Irish accent wants a gnarly scowling Anubis on her thigh whereas her other tattoos are colourful and less gnarly. One can only speculate regarding her story.” He grabs a big pot with the image of a geisha and red lettering on it, unscrews the lid, and scoops out a dollop of the stuff within to put on the side of his gloved hand. “This is Dragon’s Blood. It helps calm the skin and closes pores. It can be used as aftercare too.”

He screws the lid on again and puts the pot back in place. “May I?”

I stare at him blankly. “What do you mean?”

“May I touch your thigh and prep the skin?” he clarifies, his slightly crooked teeth showing.

“Oh, right, right! Yes, of course,” I answer, stumbling over the words and barely refraining from breaking out into a ramble.

Alfie picks up some of the balm with his fingers and leans in to work it into the skin. At first he tries to do it without support, but quickly finds himself struggling a bit. “Is it okay if I place my hand on the back of your thigh?” he asks, looking up with sincere greyish blue eyes. “It’s easier to work it in if there’s a bit of resistance and support.”

Wow, he has really pretty eyes. But then again, even a rose has thorns.

“Y- Yeah, sure.”

“Are you agreeing because you want to or because you’re feeling intimidated?”

The question catches me off-guard, its thoughtfulness rendering me speechless.

“Y/N,” Alfie sighs, “I have no ill intentions. I’m a man of honour, one who believes a woman should be treated with the utmost respect. So let me ask you again and I want you to look me in the eye, yeah, as you give me an honest answer. Is it okay if I place my hand on the back of your thigh?”

“Yes,” I answer, steady. “Yes, it is.”

He grunts in acknowledgment before placing the palm of his other hand on my skin too.

Though light in touch, the supporting grip nevertheless feels sturdy and the warmth seeping through the latex of his gloves secure. I can vaguely hear myself hum at the thought of holding his hand as we walk through Amsterdam in summer, the temperature still high enough to feel hot and clammy but with the unmistakable first signs of autumn setting in. Halfway through the month, it will become colder, especially at night if you keep the windows open. Then, to have a grip like that on your body, your skin warmed by the friction as the whiskers of a coarse yet soft beard worship it, and a baritone voice in your ear that occasionally falters with pleasure…

The sensation of cold liquid on my skin snaps me out of my reverie. I snap my head down to see where it comes from, only to discover I apparently zoned out and Alfie has cracked on to the stencil stuff.

“Try to relax your leg,” he gently coaxes while trying to apply the stencil.

I take a deep breath and do as he says, forcing my muscles to lose their tension. Although it doesn’t feel like I’m loosening up, I’m apparently doing something right enough to earn myself an oddly prideful whispered “attagirl”. Fortunately, Alfie is blissfully unaware of the fact I heard him and the storm of butterflies the compliment unleashes in my stomach. Nor does he seem to catch on to how badly the pressure of his hands, finally having found the right placement, makes my mind short circuit.

“Go take a look in the mirror,” he says after meticulously peeling the stencil off.

Even the mere outline of the Egyptian god of death looks menacing. Anubis bares his fangs as sharp as daggers, viciously snarling at the viewer. ‘‘Don’t come near me. Don’t even dare to speak to me lest you want me to feed your heart to Ammit’’ he seems to warn.

It’s absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous.

‘‘Let’s do it!’’ A skip in my step, I walk back to the massage table, which Alfie has covered with an electric blanket. It has heated to a pleasant temperature, not too low yet not high enough to break out into a sweat. Perhaps the best way to describe it is to say it makes you feel all warm and toasty.

‘‘Well, if the lady truly is ready, then who am I to deny her ink any longer?’’ Alfie says, barely able to suppress his amusement. Nevertheless, it shows in the theatrical attitude in which he continues. ‘‘Before we begin, my lady, may this old chap indeed have the ‘onour of tattooing you?’’

‘‘Yes, indeed you may, mister Solomons.’’

‘‘Marvellous.’’

The bell by the door tinkles as a long-faced, clean shaven young man, in his early to mid-twenties, walks into the studio. His casual step gives away he’s one of the resident artists, lost in thought as he hangs his jacket next to mine on the coat rack. He throws the hood of his black hoodie back to reveal muzzled short brown hair the colour of milk chocolate and runs his hand through it, tousling the locks even further.

“Why are you so early?” Alfie throws a look over his shoulder at the newcomer.

The question seems to catch the other man off-guard, the pensive expression on his boyish face fading into surprise. “I have an appointment, half sleeve, Japanese style. It’s going to be a koi pond.”

“Right,” Alfie scoffs. “I hate koi fish. Can’t stand drawing them, right, because it’s always the same composition, the same old story.”

“Is that really your reason?” the other asks as he approaches and comes to a halt a step away from where I’m lying. A whiff of fresh cologne hits my nose, mixed with the indescribable smell of rain.

“Nah, mate. I don’t really have a ‘reason’. Simply hate the fuckers. I prefer things that have a bit more life to them, a higher intellect that prevents them from smacking their lips like eternal gluttons. Gluttony is a sin, you know.” Alfie perks up as if he’s remembered something and shifts his attention back to me. “Right, this here is Michael, a show-off.”

So that’s Michael Gray. Strange, I thought he’d be older and more… tough, rough-looking, instead of a lad I could easily cross paths with at the bookshop. In fact, wait, didn’t I see him at Waterstones yesterday?

“Just because you don’t do Japanese-’’ Michael starts, but Alfie cuts him off.

“And a bloody pacifist.”

“I saw your work on Instagram.” To delay or, rather, hopefully stop a fight from breaking out between the two, I speak up before the two can continue catfighting. “It’s really cool. I’ve started warming up to the Japanese style because of your designs.”

Cheeks flushed, he rubs the back of his neck. “Thank you. You know, if you ever have an idea, send it my way.”

Alfie rolls his eyes, which earns him a venomous glare from Michael. “This is how you hold a proper conversation instead of being a cunt.”

“You see, the problem, right, is that so many people have said I am a cunt I don’t fucking care. Because they were all hypocrites, yeah. So, Michael, who’s the real one here, eh?”

My gaze flits from one man to the other while I tense up, ready to jump off the table and run for the hills if the situation worsens. And it’s likely it will because each man seems more than ready to lash out at the other.

Although I don’t think he’ll notice, I shake my head at Michael. Among the two, he is the most approachable and likely to listen at the minute, so I mentally cross my heart and pray he notices my silent plea to stop fighting. Although it’s Alfie who started it, I wager Michael is mature enough to walk away. At least for now. Afterwards, both men are free to tear each other to pieces.

Fortunately, he sees me. Lips pulled into a straight line, Michael skulks off to his own station, glowering.

Thank God.

I take a couple of deep breaths to calm my racing heartbeat. That was a close call, too close.

“Bad blood?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘‘I don’t mean to pry.’’

“Ah, the boy’s just cross ‘cause Tommy and I haven’t always seen eye to eye. Chap adores him. A little too much, if you ask me, but someone’s got to be the good little soldier, right?” Alfie checks the set-up once more to ensure everything is in place. Now that the threat of imminent conflict has proven false, he, too, relaxes. The tenseness in his muscles fades, his body loosening up. His shoulders lower and he unclenches his jaw, releasing the strain on it.

The last remnant of sharp biting sarcasm has evaporated when he turns back to me, gloved hands in his lap. “Comfy?”

“Incredibly so. I could curl up and take a snooze.”

“That would make my job easier.” He picks up the wireless tattoo machine from the tray, eyes still trained on me, watching out for any withdrawal of consent. “May I?”

I nod, allowing him to touch and stretch the skin. “Okay, let’s first do a line, yeah, to see how it feels. Ready?”

“Yep.” Sheepishly, I give him a thumbs-up.

Alfie shakes his head, chuckles and murmurs something under his breath before he sets to work.

Every time you get new ink you tend to think you can still remember the feeling of being tattooed and instantly adjust. However, the opposite is true, at least for me. At first, it’s an unpleasant nagging sensation like someone is dragging a sharp-edged though blunt object to and fro over your skin. This only lasts for a few seconds and then gradually fades to an oddly therapeutic feeling that is near impossible to describe. Yes, I’m being poked by multiple needles constantly yet it doesn’t hurt. I wouldn’t say it’s enlightening, but it is calmingly enough to stop the on-going flow of various thoughts which consist of everything at the same time. Tattooing brings order in the chaos and is the best therapy out there.

“How’s that?” Alfie asks.

“Good. Well, I mean, it’s like my cat has its claws in my thigh and by this time, I’m used to that.” I let out a sheepish giggle, only to mentally slap myself in the face for being awkward.

“What’s its name?”

“I have two, actually. One is called Saul and the other Solomon. Not really names you’d expect for a cat, but they’re big.” I try to indicate the size of them with my hands, my heart skipping a beat as he takes a second to pay attention. “Big lads.”

“Solomon was a prophet according to the Talmud, a man of great wisdom and power. Now, Saul was the first king of Israel. Great man, too, who knew that he who lives by the sword, dies by it. I suppose Anubis knew this too, weighing hearts and deciding who gets to go on a boat trip to the underworld or eaten alive. Well, as alive as a spirit can be.”

“Unfortunately, the boys haven’t a sliver of wisdom between them, unless it concerns the knowledge of being charming enough to earn themselves a treat. However, they’re bloody powerful if the need to cuddle strikes. They’ll literally attempt to take me hostage, regardless of what I’m doing at that very moment. But on a different note, it sounds like you know a lot about religion.”

“I tried theology in university, but that didn’t get me far. Doesn’t help I had a couple fights with some Italian kids, Catholics, who saw themselves above a Jew. The last one that saw me kicked out was perhaps my most brutal.” For a second he seems to continue the story, but thinks better of it at the last minute. Instead, a low grunt rises from his throat. “Yeah, definitely the most brutal, that one was.”

Though he tries to move past the topic, I’m not quite ready to let it go. Being a curious cat isn’t particularly a good thing to be when it comes to people because it can go both ways once they realise you’re after a piece of their story. Nevertheless, my curiosity is peaked and therefore I can't help myself. “I’m glad the fights in the classroom remained at heated debates. But, um, and I don’t mean to pry, but how did that fight go? The final one, I mean.”

If I don’t get an answer, it’s fine. I won’t push. Nevertheless, I eagerly hold out hope to get the story out of the enigmatic mister Solomons.

Alfie.

Don’t blush! Take a sip of water, cool down. My God, is even his name now getting me hot under the collar?

He pauses and sits up. A tentative smile builds on his lips as his brows furrow.

“Only if you want to, of course.”

“Do you really wanna know? Ladies should be spared the violence of the world.” The lines in his face deepen, the expression changing to a frowning grimace.

“It can’t get any worse than Jack the Ripper.” He blinks a few times, letting my comment sink in. In the meanwhile, I bite my lip, desperate to find a way to redeem myself. “What? Am I weird for being intrigued by the case? I am, aren’t I? You know what, don’t mind me. Guess I’m being rather silly.”

“No, you’re not. I’m simply surprised the little lady harbours a fascination with the obscene,” he answers, his tone devoid of any form of judgement.

“Don’t get a lot of those clients?”

“None who admit it outright.”

“Well, here I am.”

“So you are.” His eyes are fully focused as he gazes at me, which does about as little to lower my racing pulse as the comment that follows. “I wonder what else goes on in that head of yours.”

“It’s chaos, to be honest. I don’t think you actually wanna know. Anyways, the fight.”

“Right,” he murmurs, his eyes still trained on me and trying to imagine what goes on in my head. Needles cleaned and dipped in ink again, he returns to work and tells the story. “I once carried out my own personal form of stigmata on an Italian. I pushed his face up against a trench and shoved a six-inch nail up his fucking-’’ the snarl on his lips vanishes as he throws me an apologetic look. “Sorry, I shouldn’t swear in the company of a lady.”

“I don’t mind. You’re literally saying this to someone who has the mouth of a sailor.”

The remark is a small comfort to him. Alfie visibly relaxes, his posture loses most of its tension and his jaw slackens. “Right, I shoved a six-inch nail up his nose and I hammered it ‘ome with a duckboard.” The corners of his mouth curl into a sly grin. “It was fucking biblical.”

“Fucking hell, yeah, okay, now I’m really glad I only have had to deal with debates. Jesus.” I shake my head, caught between believing the story and finding it too far-fetched. “Why, though?”

“He had it coming. Little fucker was harassing girls of the nearby Jewish community. They mightn’t been part of mine, but it’s never right to mistreat a woman. So, one day, I caught him doing it again and made sure he’d be a wiser man for it.”

“Did you get caught?”

“I got arrested for ‘grievous bodily harm’, but didn’t go to jail considering I was still a young chap. And, to be honest, from a well-connected family.”

“How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Dang.”

“I’m not as violent as I used to be. It’s all behind me now,” he blurts out, pausing again while the words rush to fill a non-existent gap between us. “No more fights, gangs, or firms. Starting tattooing was me turning a new leaf.”

I don’t know what to say, unable to think of anything appropriate while also trying to figure out his intentions. So I merely stare at him, blankly.

His eyes flit from me to the ink pots and back to me, likely feeling equally as awkward.

Neither of us initiates further conversation, me partially because I’m starting to doze off. That is, until Alfie stops and throws me a look. “I’m almost done with the linework. You’re still okay?”

“Yeah, no pain at all,” I say, a slight taper in my voice and half asleep. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good,” he replies, a little unsteady as well. “Let’s finish it and ‘ave a little break, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“It’s good to have something to occupy yourself with outside work.” Alfie saunters over to where I’m sitting on the worn leather couch and puts a plate on the coffee table. On it, golden brown raisin buns are stacked in a charming little heap. “Want one?”

“Wait, you made these?” I put my phone away, conscious to neither cross my legs or rest my arms on my thighs as I lean in. My friends will have to wait a little longer on a tattoo update.

“I did,’’ he says, sitting down where he sat earlier today. ‘‘Learned the baking trade from me mum who learned it from her mother, my babushka.”

“You have Russian heritage?”

“I do. My mother fled to England during the Holocaust. My old man was running a distillery and was willing to take her in. In a sense, they saved each other. She got him off the drink… for a time, and kept the books. He taught her English and gave her a ‘ome.” He leans back in his chair, fingers entwined. “Yeah, funny that, how such horror can bring souls together.’’

“Did they survive the war? Like, no interference from the Nazis or fascists?” I stiffen when it hits me how intrusive the question is. Badly concealing my panic, I hastily add. ‘‘You don’t- You’ve already told me so much, so, uhm, you- you don’t have to tell me anything else.’’

“They did,” he nods sagely, ignoring my anxious outburst. “Though I’m glad they don’t have to deal with current affairs.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be. They’ve been dead for a while, died in their sleep, two months between them. Regardless of the war and England’s policy towards anyone that isn’t one of them, they’ve lived a good life. It was simply their time to go.” He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. “What about you?”

“How’d you mean?”

“How’s your family?”

“Not particularly close. I try to avoid father’s side of the family at all costs because they’re these posh- toffs, I think you call them in English. Though, that’s more my father’s sister. His brother is an alcoholic and divorcee with a midlife crisis that’s bigger than my father’s. On mother’s side of the family, I’m only close with my aunt and grandpa. With my mum I try to connect at times, but it’s more like friendly co-existence.”

“Any siblings?”

“A younger sister. Not particularly close with her either.” I shake my head and take a sip of water. “But I don’t mind. I’ve learned how to be a lone wolf and accepted being one. Working, studying, and travelling help with that too. They’re likely the only things preventing me from going insane.”

“Insanity is a gift only given to few. The greatest minds were lonely even in company, the greatest visionaries those that had seen the world by themselves.” Our eyes lock, the strange but tender sentiment in his adding to the sweet comfort of his conclusion. “I think we’re both mad.”

Alfie nods to the plate with buns. “The raisins have been soaked in rum, family recipe. Try one.”

“Are they poisoned, Solomons?” Michael remarks across the room. Judging by the venom in his tone, he hasn’t moved past the conflict earlier.

They’re really gonna cut each other once I’ve left, aren’t they?

“Unlike you, kid, I actually provide service. People have bonded over food for centuries and God gave me the brilliant idea, yeah, to make these buns to share.”

“You never share food. Not with me, at least.”

“That’s because I don’t want a bond of any sort with you, mate.“ He picks up the plate and holds it out to me. “But I’ll always be glad to share with a peer.’’

“Thank you,” I say, though I can’t prevent myself from saying his name, “Alfie.”

Smiling brightly, he leans back in his chair. “My pleasure. But what is it that kills the time for you?”

“Believe it or not, but I sew,” I say while nibbling on the sweet bun.

“An affinity with needles, eh?”

Unable to suppress it, I give into the uncharacteristic urge to giggle. “You could put it like that, yeah.”

“It’s rather broad, though, ‘sewing’, innit? What am I to envision?”

“I make plushies, really bloody adorable ones.” I grab my phone and look up a picture of my latest project: a whale shark made with white, very fuzzy teddy and Delft Blue-printed cotton. “Don’t tell me that isn’t cute.”

I turn the screen to Alfie. The eager confidence doesn’t last because the tingle travelling through my chest, which seems to be weighed down by a heavy stone, ends in a chill down my spine. With bated breath, I nevertheless wait for a sign of his approval.

What the fuck am I doing? He’s a grown man. What would he care for a stuffed animal?

An ache starts at the back of my throat at the thought that follows.

I did post that picture on an Insta Story. Did he see it, though? What if he did? No, he did, didn’t he? I’m repeating myself. Why am I repeating myself? He’s had enough of a look.

However, as I make to put my phone away again, Alfie speaks up. “It’s well-made, especially for an early attempt at the craft. You can see it’s made with passion.”

Fuck, he definitely saw my sewing shenanigans on Insta.

“You already saw that picture, didn’t you?” I respond, mildly sarcastic regardless of his kindness.

“Well, we already established we follow each other and I like to get to know my clients as best as possible. So, yeah… yeah, I did.”

Gaze averted to the floor, I shut the screen off and continue to stare at my shoes, feeling like a stupid lovesick teenager.

“But it’s indeed adorable. You’ve got a knack for the trade.” His features soften when I raise my head, though there’s a hint of mischief in the raised eyebrow. “You’re no seamstress, though. Or are you?”

“If you want, I could mend your clothes,” I blurt out, the words spilling forth before I can give them a second thought. “Oh Lord, I- I didn’t mean- I’m so sorry, I should’ve-’’

Alfie’s hearty laugh cuts through my poor attempt to try and justify my idiotic bravery. “Fucking ‘ell. I had a feeling you’re not the type to beat around the bush, but that was more forward than I thought you’d be.”

“Please ignore what I said.” I stuff the last of the bun into my mouth, lest it should blabber any more nonsense, and wave a dismissive hand.

Only to nearly choke at his response.

“Why? I like it, this honesty. Now, see, Tommy, yeah, he likes to beat around the bush and it’s absolutely doing my nut in. I’ve told him before I’ll shoot him if he doesn’t hurry up and quit his little games. Man really needs to learn how to directly make his point, saves both parties involved a lot of trouble. But not you.” His tone turns pensive, the words clear yet strange. “Curious, that. How a little dove flies over the wolves.”

I remain quiet, because no reaction I come up with seems adequate to respond to his reverie. So we let an oddly comfortable silence settle in, lined with the addicting sweetness of rum raisins.

“These are really bloody good,” I say after a while, pointing at the plate on the coffee table. ‘‘We have buns like this back home too. We call them ‘krentenbollen’, which would roughly translate to ‘currant buns’.’’

‘‘Say that again.’’

‘‘What, ‘krentebollen’?’’ Evidently I hit the nail on its head, judging by Alfie struggling to imitate my pronunciation, silently mouthing the syllables. “Kren.”

“Kren.”

“No, no, ‘ren’. A pronounced, not rolled ‘r’ and short and sharp ‘e’. Like in ‘cigarette’, the final ‘e’ sound. Kren.”

“Kren,” he echoes.

“Ten. ‘En’ is pronounced with a schwa.”

“Ten.”

“Bol. With a clear ‘l’.”

“Bol.”

“Len. Again, a clear ‘l’ and a schwa.”

“Len.’’ Having been given an example of how to pronounce each syllable, Alfie tries out the word again, brow furrowed in concentration. ‘‘Kren. Ten. Bol. Len.”

A warm fuzzy feeling spreads throughout my body while watching him sincerely make an effort to mimic the Dutch sounds despite the struggle it proves to be. However, I do have to give him credit for his attempt because, despite his slightly wonky pronunciation, it’s better than some others I’ve heard.

‘‘Kren- Krentenbollen.’’

“‘Ey, there ya go!” I clap my hands, smiling in satisfaction. ‘‘That was really good!’’

“Dutch is a funny language. Very strange and harsh.”

“Apparently, it’s the scientifically proven hardest language to learn. I’ll be honest, even the Dutch sometimes don’t know how to speak it. The grammar is whack too, sometimes. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe you can teach me some more next time we meet.” His eyes go from the buns to me, beaming. “I’ll bring you some more krentenbollen.”

‘‘Nah, these are better. In fact, I think I prefer these. Much more exclusive, an English delicacy.’’

Can I get any more lame? What kind of comment was that?

“Help yourself, but be quick about it because we need to get back to work. You’ve been sitting like a rock and I don’t want your adrenaline to run out just yet.”

“I’ll leave it for later then.”

He rises from his seat, throwing an imposing shadow over me as his shoulders block the light. “Before we resume, do you want anything? You still got enough water?”

“I’m good to go, though I wouldn’t say no to another glass.”

“One round of Solomons Lemon Water, coming right up.”

As before, Alfie puts care into the simple act of cutting a lemon and adding a slice of it to plain water. And with the grace of a gentleman, he holds it out to me. “A glass of water for the little lady. It’s on the house.”

Whilst the comment is in jest, a funny thought sets my cheeks ablaze. “Th- Thanks.”

What the fuck was that stutter? By Jaysus, pull yourself together! He’s only joking, playing around. It means nothing. Nothing! Besides, he likely has a wife, good-looking and charming as he is.

Glass in hand, I follow Alfie back to the table and clamber back onto the cosy electric blanket while he completes the last preparations to continue the session.

“Comfy?” he asks once I’ve settled in.

“Extremely.”

“Good.” He restarts his tablet, the screen lighting up with Anubis’s snarling face. A new pair of gloves on, he grabs the black pot with red lettering and scoops up a blob of Dragon’s Blood with his pinky before he sets it back in place.

“May I?” Alfie asks, hands a few centimetres from my skin.

I nod, giving him the permission to resume working.

Except, he doesn’t.

He pushes his stool back slightly and purses his lips. “Y/N, I need you to relax, yeah. Tense muscles aren’t particularly tattoo friendly. If I start working now, it’s like tattooing a stone and needles, right, don’t do well with hard surfaces.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, inhaling and exhaling deeply in hopes of unravelling the tightness in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. What’s on your mind? Something funny?”

“Ah, it’s fine. No worries.”

Don’t mind me. I’m being silly, interpreting things the wrong way. Besides, I’m likely half your age. Unsuitable, undesirable for a man like you.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” My breath tapers, which I hope he doesn’t pick up on. Then again, Alfie has proven to be a very perceptive man thus far. Nonetheless, a girl can hope. ‘‘I’m okay.’’

Please believe that. At least this once.

He lets out a low displeased grunt, blueish grey eyes dark with lingering worry. “If you say so.” He averts his gaze to the unfinished snarling Anubis, the sternness in his voice blurring into resignation. “Can I?”

I hum in response, giving him the sign he still has my consent.

And to keep up appearances a little longer.

Because when you’re crushing hard on someone you can’t have, it’s okay not to be okay.

It’s not unusual for other tattoo artists to pop by their colleagues to see what they’re working on. Normally I wouldn’t mind it, proud to be a canvas for someone else’s art. Nonetheless, this time, I wish it was someone else other than the resident Japanese style artist sauntering over. Anyone would do.

Tommy, who came in around two to do a touch-up.

Finn, who’s the youngest in the team and does geometric designs.

Even Arthur, who Alfie immediately sent away when he felt me tense, genuinely afraid of Cerberus personified, would be better.

Unfortunately, it’s Michael, which means the two might break out into a fight soon. It’s only a matter of time.

“Wow, that looks gnarly.” Maintaining a polite distance, Michael leans in to inspect the fearsome god of the afterlife.

“Oi, don’t you have your own client to look after?” Alfie asks, the first ripples of irritation already noticeable in his voice.

“She’s too busy taking pictures and whatever else she’s doing on her phone.” Michael points over his shoulder at his client and shrugs. I turn my head, doubting how bad the girl’s company can be. She is indeed absorbed in her phone, posing like most girls on Instagram and making all the familiar facial expressions. To keep things polite, let’s say that a tattoo isn’t what she came here for.

I scoff. ‘‘I see she’s one of those.’’

‘‘That’s one way to put it,’’ Michael sighs, but his expression brightens as he changes the topic. “What made you get Anubis?”

“Give the lady some space, treacle. You’re not yet drooling over her like some lovesick puppy. We’re trying to create a bloody masterpiece here, right, and art, yeah, art needs effort, focus, and attention.” A grimace treks over Alfie’s face, foreboding like a black cloud forms the prelude to a storm. “None of which I can muster with you around, mate. So off you go.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Go on, fuck off.”

“The fuck’s your problem, Alfie?” Michael raises his voice.

Oh Lord, here we go.

“My problem?” Fortunately, Alfie turns the machine off and puts it to the side because getting tattooed amidst a fight is the last thing you’d want. Unless you’re a lunatic. “My problem right now, mate, is that I have a massive disturbance in my work environment which prevents me from providing Y/N with splendid service and proper care.”

“‘Proper care?’” the other man echoes, raising an eyebrow. “Now that’s an awfully ambiguous statement, even for you. Proper care… Is that why you didn’t go on your usual vape break?”

“Don’t twist my words, kid. It should be an honour for a tattoo artist that someone is willing to wear their art on their skin. Y/N is doing me that honour so of course I wanna treat her right.”

“Alfie Solomons, the King of Camden,’’ Michael sneers. ‘‘The Jewish gentleman from Margate.”

“It’s never a bad idea to be a gentleman, kid. Hasn’t your mother taught you how to treat women properly? Then again,” a mean gleam lights up stormy grey eyes, “she did abandon you, didn’t she?”

Michael is positively fuming by now, looking red in the face and fists shaking with an eagerness to throw the first punch.

“Lads! That’s enough!” I bark, propping myself up on my elbows. “Alfie, that’s a fucking low blow and you know it.”

“How do you know it is?”

Is he fucking serious?

“Look at him!” Lips pulled back into a snarl not unlike Anubis’s, I point at Michael. “Obviously that fucking hurt.”

“So the little dove flew down, still not afraid. Although, her wings waver ever so slightly, don’t they?”

I gaze blankly at Alfie, puzzled by the comment, but quickly return to raging. “Shouldn’t you apologise or something? Or is that something men don’t do to each other?”

“Y/N,” I hear Michael mumble next to me, a tone of surprise in his voice.

“Fucking apologise or I’m out, tattoo finished or not.” I look him up and down, barely able to suppress the urge to spit in his face. “I thought I booked a professional, not some… some fucking bastard.”

“I’m a bastard?” he scoffs.

“People who attack others by using their personal lives? Yeah, that’s one of the definitions of ‘bastard’ for me.”

Both men are quiet, startled by my interference. They exchange glances, neither of them helping the other with their confusion. However, Alfie tries to solve his by making an effort to make amends. For the time being, that is.

“Right,” he begins, struggling to sound genuine. “My sincerest apologies, kid.”

“A little more honest,” I grumble.

“I shouldn’t have brought up your mother, kid. Clearly it’s still an open wound and you don’t need salt in it.”

Wouldn’t have phrased it that way, but whatever, it’s Alfie Solomons.

I shift my attention to Michael. “Please accept his apology, at least for now. I don’t want any more fights during my therapy session. You can rip each other to shreds after I’m gone, okay?”

A careful smile tugs on the corners of Michael’s lips. “Then I will, if only to not completely ruin your ink therapy. Seriously, though, Alfie’s not the only one who should apologise. So, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for my behaviour. A client should never be put in the crossfire of a dispute which doesn’t concern them. Can you accept mine?”

“Afraid of me ripping you to shreds?”

“Uhm, maybe?’’ He rubs the back of his neck, cheeks rosy. ‘‘You do get kinda fearsome when you get angry.”

“The thick Irish accent doesn’t help, either,” Alfie chimes in. “If someone’s accent deepens, especially if it’s Irish, you better run.”

“How can you possibly be afraid of me? I’m a head shorter than you. I think you can easily have me.” I search Alfie’s expression for signs he’s lying yet end up empty-handed. The second thereafter, however, a surge of heat spreads through my body as the possible implications of my comment run through my mind. Unconsciously, I rub my wrists while trying to get comfortable again on the rather hot blanket. Or does it merely feel like that because I’m a mess? “Take me on, I mean. Have me is… ehm… It’d be easy to overpower, no, ehm, win? Win against me!”

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Michael says, hardly containing his amusement. Then he turns around and returns to his station. Along the way, he stops to explain the situation to the girl, who miraculously has managed to put her phone away for a second and show worry like a normal human being.

“I really need to learn to shut the fuck up,” I groan as I lie down again, a bit calmer. “Please forget everything I said.”

“Including your tantrum?” Alfie asks, a lopsided smirk on his lips.

“Just remember the apology part. Maybe the bastard one too.”

“If the lady so wishes.” His hands hover over my thigh, the machine still turned off in his left. “Can I?”

I nod, unwavering in my willingness to give him my consent. Perhaps others would have left, but I choose to remain because of the shallow reason he’s at least good to me.

Even if he’s not for me.

Funny thing, innit, Love?

A silence broken up by the whirring of needles settles in. The only other noise in the studio comes from the Bluetooth speaker, continuously playing jazz tunes. It’s the first time to hear the music genre in a tattoo studio since everywhere I’ve been before they seem to prefer hard rock and soft metal. I wonder whether it has contributed to their reputation as ‘the gentlemen of the Birmingham tattoo industry’ or it is simply because the oldest of the Shelbys are at work today.

“Y/N?” Alfie wipes off the excess ink and dips his needle in one of the little pots besides him.

“Hm?” I turn my head to face him.

“I’m sorry.” Though lacklustre compared to the apology to Michael, the words are sombre with pure remorse and don’t need reiterating.

“No more fighting, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Hey, by the way, what did he mean with you skipping your Vape-’’

“Tell me more about your cats,” Alfie suddenly demands, tone harsh and his gaze not straying from his project.

“Wha-’’

“Your cats,’’ he repeats, losing his temper. ‘‘Tell me about them.”

What’s gotten into him? Did I do something?

“Uhm, well,” I haphazardly begin, unsure what to tell him. “They are absolute cuddle bugs. They’ll literally go to any length to make me stop whatever I’m doing and give them attention.”

Don’t panic. Don’t cry. Be brave, just like before. He won’t hurt me… I hope.

Alfie closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, forcing himself to calm down. “Men are jealous creatures, especially when a woman is involved.’’

“Was that also the case with the Italian?”

“No, that was a matter of common decency.”

“The situation just now?”

He lets out a sonorous noncommittal sound, holding the middle between a disagreeing grunt and acknowledging hum. There is no way to know for sure nor is there a chance to ask because he changes the topic, clearly wanting to let the matter rest. “You’re still doing fine?”

“Is there a chance I can get another glass of Solomons Lemon Water?” I ask carefully, the hairs on the back of my neck still raised.

Alfie looks up, eyes warm and a soft smile forming beneath his bushy whiskers. “Always, darling.”

Amidst a storm of butterflies is a prematurely broken heart.

The remainder of the session remains calm, the conversations between us few. In fact, the only time he speaks up is to comment on how astounding it is I’m like a rock whereas people getting tattooed in the same spot might be having a hell of a tougher time. I merely shrug in response and blame it on my high pain tolerance.

Strange, how much more one can bear physically than mentally.

Although the fight earlier hasn’t affected the amiability between us, we both unanimously agree to settle for the comfortable silence we seem to create together. Occasionally, he sonorously hums along to a song when not glancing up to look for any signs of discomfort. Each time, I give him a drowsy lazy smile, still as tranquil as the minute before.

“Alright,” Alfie turns off the machine and claps his hands. “You’ve got Anubis looking over you from now on.”

I let out an involuntary yawn, quickly clasping my hand over my mouth to hide. “I’m so sorry. I was literally on the verge of taking a nap.”

“That’s better than fainting,” he chuckles.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“More than you think, darling.” A piece of paper towel in one hand and a blob of foam in the other, Alfie patiently waits for me to give him the green light.

Which I, again for the same vain reason, do. However, this time it’s bittersweet because it means it’s almost time to go, to let the long moment of pure relaxation and fun come to an end.

To say goodbye to yet another man I find myself fascinated by despite better judgement.

His touch is light as he applies the foam on the tattooed skin, his movement slow as he wipes it off with the paper towel.

“Now that’s gnarly, innit?” Alfie beams while disposing of the used towel and his gloves.

“It is,” I agree, bending my leg to get a proper look at the piece. “And I fucking love it.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He gets up, walks around the table to my right side and holds out his hand. “Can we take a picture for Instagram? If the lady wants to, of course.”

“Of course, Mr Solomons.” He grows still, unmoving like a statue, while an indecipherable expression flashes over his face. I swallow hard, but my mouth remains dry. “Did- Did I say something wrong?”

He clears his throat. “No, not at all. Forgive this old soul. You get tired faster with age.”

“You still look fairly young to me.” I place my hand in his big open palm, the skin rough and calloused. His warm thick fingers easily envelop mine.

Stop dreaming.

“Just wait until you’re in your forties.”

“Hey, I’m twenty-three and already complaining about my back. My colleague and I wager we’ll be needing a walker by the time we’re thirty.”

Alfie lets out a hearty laugh. “Fucking ‘ell, lets hope not.”

We come to a halt in front of a brick wall, surrounded by tall lights. “Now, you stand there, in front of it, and I’ll make sure we get pictures nice enough to put in a frame.”

I lean against the cold bricks as he takes care of the set-up, shooing Finn and Michael out of the way and throwing a warning glance at Arthur even though he’s sitting with his back to us, immersed in designing. The only one allowed to come close is Tommy, whose beautiful icy blue eyes meet mine.

Awkwardly, I shift my weight from one leg to the other only to right myself and clasp my hands behind my back. It does nothing to help escape his scrutinising gaze. If anything, it has only worsened how self-conscious I feel.

What kind of stance is this? Fuck, I’m wearing shorts.

“That’s a nice piece of art, Alfie.” I try my best to resist the urge to flinch as the studio’s owner approaches to admire the piece up close, crouching down a polite distance away from me.

“Yeah, it is, innit?” Alfie agrees, switching on the lights. “Now, if you don’t mind, you’re in the shot, mate.”

Without another word, Tommy gets to his feet and throws me one last pondering look before setting off to his station.

In the meanwhile, Alfie has lumbered over and crouched down in front of the lights, phone in hand. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

He takes a few shots, gives out a few instructions, and beckons me over to check them afterwards. Slowly he flicks through the images, his thumb slowly swiping over the screen. Had it been any other person, I would have paid attention and helped with deciding which picture looks the best regardless of minor differences. However, the musky scent of oud wood mixed with dark vanilla and the proximity of his large warm body, makes it hard to concentrate on anything but the man next to me.

“… one?”

“Hm? Sorry, what?” As if woken up out of a dream, I blink and look quizzically at the man next to me.

“I asked which photo you think is best,” Alfie calmly explains.

“Oh, uhm, well, the first one? I think that one was already good. Fine. You know what I mean.”

He’s in his forties, maybe twice your age. There’s no chance whatsoever. Don’t be such a bumbling idiot and pull yourself together.

“I’ll send them all to you later so you can look through them again.’’

“You really don’t have to-’’ I begin to protest, but find myself cut off by his determination.

“It’s no trouble. We created a bloody masterpiece, didn’t we?” Alfie’s face lights up. “So I’ll let you do the honours of picking the best representation of what we’ve accomplished.”

“Th- Thank you.”

Our eyes meet for a moment, a few seconds in which he takes me in for a reason I can’t fathom. Nor do I get a chance to think about what it might be since he quickly moves back to the topic of business. “Let’s wrap up your leg, eh?”

We return to his station, where he cuts off two pieces of Second Skin. He carefully layers them onto the tattoo after being granted his silent request for permission to touch me. An image of him grabbing my thigh and placing it over his hip while we’re in the sheets flashes by when he applies pressure to ensure the derma foil properly sticks to the skin.

Get your mind out of the gutter! Gods damn it, what the hell’s wrong with ye?

“Y/N, you alright? You’re looking rather red in the face, darling.”

“Yeah!’’ I blurt out, sounding annoying and loud to my own ears. ‘‘Yeah, I’m fine. Let me, ahm, let me just put my pants back on and we’ll- I’ll- yeah… be right back.”

I hasten to the sofa, grab my jeans out of my backpack and rush into the restroom. Carefully, I wriggle out of my shorts and into the loose-fitting jeans, only to recall his comment about the fit.

Was he imagining me wearing one of his jeans? Nah, he’s a professional, he wouldn’t do that.

My vivid imagination, on the other hand, thinks it’s perfectly fine to conjure up yet another intimate image of Alfie’s defined inked arms firmly wrapped around me, a slow but proud smile on his lips, nose buried in the crook of my neck, and me indeed wearing his jeans.

Snap. Out. Of it!

The mirage fades like sand blown away by the wind. I take a few deep breaths to ground myself and step back into the studio.

Alfie’s sitting in the chair opposite the sofa. As soon as I step out of the restroom, he turns in his seat, eyes futilely searching for mine. It surely isn’t the first time it’s happened he’s had a client fawning over him, considering his looks. Nonetheless, I refuse to acknowledge nor allow myself to show him how he affects me. So, still avoiding his gaze, I plop down across from him on the sofa, tuck the shorts back into my bag and fish out my wallet.

Fully focused on the notes in it, I lean in. “So, how much do I owe you?”

As a response, thick fingers firmly wrap around my wrist. I flinch at the contact, caught between surprise and alarm since he hasn’t touched me today without asking. Certainly not as forcefully as now.

A fact he acknowledges when he explains himself, retracting his hand. “I know I haven’t asked permission, but I wanted you to look at me and ask if you’re alright. You were in there for a bit.”

“I’m okay, Alfie.”

“Something tells me you’re not, darling.” He tilts his head, brows furrowed whilst he strokes his beard. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate. This topic, at least.”

Especially since I’ve only known you for a day.

“You don’t have to if you don’t fancy it.” The deep sigh he lets out through his nose, however, betrays his disappointment.

“I’d rather not tell. But don’t worry, I’m fine. Not sick or anything. My mind’s just… I guess you could say I was gone with the fairies for a bit.”

“Fortunately, they didn’t whisk you away entirely. I don’t fancy myself a man capable of going to the Otherworld.” Although he tries to be humorous, his smile is wistful. “Doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t try.”

“It’s difficult to come back, once you’ve set foot in Tír na nÓg. Anyways, let’s crack on. What do I owe you again?”

‘‘You don’t have to pay me.’’

‘‘You’re pulling my leg.’’ His expression doesn’t change, remaining warm yet stoic. ‘‘You’re serious?’’

‘‘I am. See it as compensation for having to deal with a hot-headed bastard.’’

‘‘Thank you, but this isn’t right. Like it or not, but I’ll still pay you.’’

“Despite the fight?”

“Despite the fight. So, how much?”

He names his price and I count out the notes. ‘‘Wait, that’s not…’’

‘‘Let me give you a discount if you don’t accept a full restitution.’’

‘‘Alright, fine,’’ I sigh, knowing protest will be futile, and continue to count. “Oh, and here’s another twenty. For the splendid service and, well,” I let out a shy giggle, “proper care.”

He hums and leans forward to collect the money. “In that case, thank you very much, my fair lady.”

My fair lady… my… his.

Though my mind is a million miles away, the rest of my body stiffens in reaction to the pet name. He notices, a note of concern in his question. “Was that too much?”

I wave a frantic dismissive hand. “No! No, not at all. Don’t mind me.”

It’ll pass, this feeling. Butterflies never live long.

Rubbing his lower lip, he mumbles something under his breath. The only words I can make out are “flustered” and “cute”, which doesn’t help with my mood whatsoever.

Neither does the mischief underlining his normally polite suggestion. “Want another round of Solomons Lemon Water before you go?”

“I’m good. Yeah, I’m- I- I should go.”

I get up and prepare to leave. Alfie rises to his feet too, falling into pace as we move towards the door. On the way, I grab my jacket off of the coat rack, putting my arm through one sleeve, but clumsily grabbing into nothing in an effort to put my other arm through the other sleeve.

A struggle quickly ended by two sturdy palms which help me ease into it. “There you go.”

“Thanks.” I turn away towards the door, ready to go before I make an even greater fool of myself. Then again, my feet won’t move, refusing to budge the slightest inch. “Such a gentleman, aren’t you?”

“A Jewish gentleman from Margate,” he merrily quips. But the amusement doesn’t last, fading into an indecipherable expression which seems equally as hesitant to end things here alongside something hidden. “Normally, yeah, I meet up with clients for pictures once the tattoo is healed. So let’s make it a date. Appointment,” he quickly corrects himself as a grimace flashes over his face. “An appointment, yeah, right, make an appointment when your leg has healed.”

“I think it will have to be by the time you come to Amsterdam.”

His brow furrows and he purses his lips, displeased. “I don’t think the convention will provide good pictures. The lighting isn’t that great and there’s all these people walking around.’’ The deep lines in his forehead smoothen out, a devilish smile gradually forming. ‘‘But I’ve booked an extended stay so, considering I’m not familiar with the city, we could meet up and you show me around? Unless you think you won’t be able to handle two days with a bastard like me.”

Don’t squeal. Stay calm. Don’t mess up at the last second. Calm and collected.

And unusually bold, apparently. Without wavering, I make a suggestion of my own. “Will you show me around Margate if and when I’m in England again?”

He chuckles. “Fucking ‘ell, negotiating, are we? I thought Tommy was the only one fond of that.” He scrunches his nose as someone else comes to mind. “And that numpty.”

“Hey, be nice. Michael’s a good guy.”

Alfie grumbles something under his breath, not shy to let on he’s annoyed by me siding with his colleague. Then, like he did before, he forces himself to repress the dangerous mixture of irritation and anger bubbling inside. “Tell you what, yeah, you show up in Amsterdam with your leg properly taken care of and I’ll show you around Margate. I’ll even pick you up from the airport.”

“It seems we have a deal,” I extend my hand, “Mr Solomons.”

Instead of a handshake, his warm big palm envelops my fingers and he lifts them to his lips. His beard feels ticklish against my skin, the whiskers rough yet oddly soft at the same time. “So we do, Miss L/N.”

Alfie holds the door open, plush lips curled into a knowing smile, and I step out onto the street.

A king’s promise in my pocket.

Tag list: @buttercup32sstuff @liliac-dreamer @vir-tual @potter-solomons @ilovemanypeople @zablife @hecatemoon87 @alikaheroes

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#Peaky Blinders #Alfie Solomons #Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Alfie Solomons imagine #Alfie Solomons fanfic #Alfie Solomons x Reader #Alfie Solomons fic #Alfie Solomons x Female Reader #Winterfall

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zablife · 2 years

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Congratulations again on your milestone, darling!! i'm so proud of you! 💗

can i request a ☎️ with Alfie? He's a professor in college and he falls in love with his colleague who is the absolute opposite of him (cheerful, very delicate, a sunshine-like personality, etc...). And of course she turns him into a mess haha

Thank you very much!! 🥰

Anna, I love this request and I referred to some of your incredible headcanons and our discussion about them when writing mine. I've changed a few things around, but I did add his love interest toward the end. I hope you enjoy reading this! Tysm for the request, darl!

Anthropology Professor Alfie Solomons

*Alfie Solomons has always had a fascination with humans and how they behave. It was only fitting that he studied the development of human society and culture, going on to teach the subject at a prestigious university.

*Although somewhat grumpy and unapproachable looking, he quickly becomes a favorite amongst students who take his class. They enjoy his odd, meandering lectures, punctuated by wildly inappropriate personal stories. Despite his eccentricity, he is quite knowledgeable as well.

*His quirky behavior is quickly noted and whispered about. For example, he enjoys bringing homemade bread for everyone and slices it with the knife he keeps in his boot, which he then twirls in his hand and stabs into his desk. While everyone eats, he recounts the time he carried out his own personal form of stigmata. That raises a few eyebrows.

*He is often light-hearted in equal measure, offering tidbits of hilarious gossip about other professors and playing pranks. His favorite target is his old schoolmate, Professor Darby Sabini in religion. He would often leave foul smelling things hidden in Prof Sabini's office to torment the Italian’s sensitive nose making him spit and curse for days.

*They were constantly betting against one another in some fashion. On one occasion Prof Solomons had cancelled class for an important football match so he could sit side by side and yell in Darby’s face when his team won. He’d laughed about it in class for a month.

*Prof Solomons is horribly unorganized and can never remember where anything is. He’s always forgetting his glasses hanging around his neck, prompting snickers from his students. He'd reply in his gruff, but lovable way that you were all a bunch of arseholes.

*His office is as chaotic as his mind, cramped with all the things he can’t seem to bin. Stacks of books and papers reach from the floor to the ceiling blocking out the light and leave only a narrow path to his cluttered desk. The piles teeter precariously as he stomps to his chair in the evenings and deposits more paperwork.

*He is often seen around campus with his large dog Cyril who would trot along at his side. The drooling beast would sleep happily at his owner’s feet as Prof Solomons graded papers late into the evening, drinking rum as he grumbled to himself and marked furiously in red ink.

*Alfie returns papers with illegible handwriting and coffee cup stains...or is that rum his students wondered? It smells like rum…

*He gives extra credit on tests if students draw him a doodle of a dog. He has a few tacked on the board in his office. Although there were times Alfie was lonely, he was grateful for the people he did have in his life and the drawings were a reminder of the difference he was making in the lives of young people.

*One day a new professor is hired to handle the extra classes added to the schedule. She’s a lovely, cheerful woman. She keeps the door to her bright, clean office open in case a student should need her assistance.

*Prof Sabini is often seen lingering by her door attempting to flirt with her until Alfie hides a bag of Cyril’s excrement behind Darby’s potted plants. “It smells like dog shit in here!” Dabry cried running from the office, making him look like a fool.

*Alfie manages to hide his amusement as he introduces himself to his beautiful new colleague. She is a little afraid of his imposing figure at first. Alfie doesn’t know how to behave around her either. He finds himself trying to be polite, but it feels disingenuous. He's not sure how to carry on a conversation with her so he leaves.

*One day after class he realizes she has been sitting in the back row listening to one of his lectures and his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He’d told a particularly embarrassing story about France and getting the clap because that was his way with his students, nothing was off limits. He wondered if she would run away and never speak to him again.

*As she approached carefully he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, “You weren’t meant to hear that,” he said sheepishly.

“And a lecture hall filled with students was?” she said with an amused smile.

“Erm...well, it’s like this you see. I believe it’s hard to teach about culture and society when you don’t accept these kids as part of it. They’re not children no more, are they? They appreciate being treated like equals,” Alfie explained.

“I can respect that, Dr. Solomons. I’d love to know more about your teaching philosophy and more about you,” she said gazing at him sweetly.

“Please, call me Alfie," he said not believing she could be interested in him. Then his awkwardness nearly ruined the moment as he added quickly, "Just so you know, I don’t have the clap no more."

She let out a burst of laughter. “Let’s start with dinner first, shall we, Alfie?”

#ask box #mapote💌#zablife600 #Alfie Solomons imagine #Alfie Solomons headcanons #Peaky Blinders college AU

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etcrow · 2 years

Note

Congrats on 1k!! Def deserved and earned!! You and your writing is absolutely amazing!!

May I request Luke with the key word being Anger?? Maybe with Solomon on the side and if not then that's okay!!

1K followers alphabet event

A - Anger

I am not a chihuahua

Genre: fluff

Characters: GN!MC + Luke and Solomon

Universe: Obey me

Warnings: none

A/N: Keyword for this post is “Anger”. Thanks for requesting, and don't be scared to ask additions. The more, the merrier <3

Summary: Luke is mad at Mammon and you and Solomon try to cheer him up

"I'm not a Chihuahua" You hear Luke's shouts coming from the classroom, followed by the brothers' hubbub and some laughter. As soon as you enter the room you see the young angel's pained face, more serious and angry than usual, as he clenches his fists and looks at Mammon with a look full of anger.

You cast a glance toward the avatar of greed, who shrugs, raising his hands in midair. "Take it easy, Luke. I was only joking."

The young angel lets out a growl-like cry as the light in the room begins to flicker, leaving those present interjected for a few seconds as they exchange looks full of confusion. Luke clenches his fists even tighter as a hand rests on his shoulder. Solomon has arrived at his side.

The sorcerer draws his attention, causing him to turn toward him, and Luke is distracted, relaxing his hands as his face regains its natural complexion.

You cast a glance toward Solomon and he returns the glance, leading Luke out of the classroom. The sorcerer kneels in front of Luke and looks him in the eye. "Can you explain what happened just now?"

Luke brings his arms to his sides, huffing audibly. "Nothing, I was mad at Mammon for calling me Chihuahua."

Solomon raises an eyebrow, confused. "I mean the lights, Luke."

The young angel is silent for a second, not understanding what Solomon means, and looks at him with a bewildered expression. "The lights...?"

You join them, overhearing their conversation, and confirm that you, too, saw the lights in the room as they vibrated abnormally.

Luke watches you both, his gaze full of confusion. He doesn't seem to have noticed anything. You reach out a hand toward him, stroking his hair, and he blushes slightly, looking away. "Do you feel better now?"

He nods, his gaze still pointed in another direction. "I was just mad at Mammon for calling me Chihuahua again."

You sigh, casting a glance toward the classroom, shaking your head. "Let's take a walk, shall we?"

Luke nods his head, and Solomon joins you as you walk down the school corridors, side by side.

You are about to ask where Simeon is when Solomon beats you to the punch and asks the young angel the same question. "Simeon went to the Celestial Reallm to do some chores together with Michael.... I would have loved to go too, but my presence was not required so I had to come to class."

You notice that Luke's gaze is full of disappointment as he utters those words and he even seems a little annoyed by it. After all, he is still a child even though he has had a long life as an angel ahead of him. All three of you sit on a bench in the hallway, and Luke sighs audibly and begins to move his feet back and forth. In doing so he really shows that he is a child. "Sometimes I feel so small among the rest of you."

You look out the window and nod, bringing a hand to his shoulder. Solomon, on the other hand, smiles at him, fully understanding how he feels. Despite being very ancient you always manage to feel out of place.

"You don't have to feel bad if they call you Chihuahua. They call me grandpa most of the time and I take it as a laugh."

"Yeah but they called you an old man, not a dog...and then you're old"

"Wooooffff"

Luke sighs, raising his hands in midair "All right, all right. I'm sorry."

You laugh, taking him by the hand. "Mammon has known me for almost two years and he still calls me Human instead of by name. That's just the way he is."

"No, he's a fool."

Solomon mumbles a 'He has a point' under his breath and you look at him, pinching his arm. "Okay, okay. No one is going to insult anyone again for today."

You notice that Luke is thoughtful and you tap him on the shoulder, making him turn around. "What's on your mind?"

He sighs, scratching his head nervously. "Could you not tell Simeon what happened today? I don't feel like getting a lecture."

You both nod and the young angel lets out a reassured sigh of relief. "I was really mad at Mammon today, but I feel better now."

"Are you ready to go back to class?"

Luke nods and stands up, walking toward the classroom, but as you are about to get up, Solomon grabs you by the wrist, dark in the face, and whispers, "You saw it too, didn't you?"

You nod, concerned about the reaction Luke has had, and watch as he walks quietly back into the classroom, turning back to you as he reaches the doorway, smiling. "Shall we go?"

Both you and Solomon look at each other, walking toward Luke. One thing is certain: you better not upset that little angel.

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obey-me-headquarters · 2 years

Text

Mc is a menace part 2 Electric Boogaloo

- They teach all the demons what the floor is lava game is. Lucifer just assumes they're sharing a bit of their culture. Lucifer is a fool. Now at random times during the day they will shout "the floor is lava!" And jump onto a taller surface. The brothers play this game extremely seriously because they are Competitive, and think that this is just like, a normal part of human culture. Lucifer thinks the game is childish and refuses to play along. Satan and Mc mocks him for dying in lava each time. Lucifer states that lava doesn't even hurt him! He's a demon!

Diavolo absolutely loves this game and starts to call out "the floor is lava!' Himself. Lucifer is planning what knots to use when he strings Mc up when during an important meeting with other demons nobles, Diavolo calls out "the floor is lava!".

One time, when there wasn't enough cover, Beel picked up Mc and Belphie to protect them from the lava. Solomon asked Mc if they would like to learn how to create real lava for the game.

- This is less of a "Mc is a menace who needs to be put away for their crimes" and more my Mc lore. But. My Mc has absolutely no shame. They're the kind of the friend who hypes up the friend group 24/7. They see no problem in yelling across the hallway at RAD at Satan that they think his hair looks nice.

Whenever Levi goes on a self conscious ramble they take him by the shoulders and literally starts shaking him while yelling praise. Will force Levi to repeat the praise with louder and louder shouts. Lucifer tires to act all sly whenever they compliment him, like "Oh really? Mind repeating that again?" Your tricks wouldn't work on them Luci. They will repeat the compliment, and goes on a ramble so long they he starts to blush and cuts them off.

Asmo thinks that this is amazing, and frequently fishes for compliments. It's unfortunate that Mc is such a menace. Half the time they will ramble on why Asmo is the best being to ever exist. The other half is spent willfully ignorant as they drag it out and try to force Asmo to admit he just wants praise.

Is actively trying to befriend Henry 1.0 even time Barbatos invites them over for tea, after tea they sneak into the secret tunnels and leave out food for the snake. Barbatos knows this, but since there's no stopping Mc when they put their mind to something, he leaves it be. He doesn't want them to actually take Henry away - the snake is good for pest control.

- I have not gotten to the beach episode in the game but I do have beach thoughts!

They bring knives and will not tell anyone why they're bringing knives to the beach. When the arrive they tell the brothers they "need to do something" and that "will be back soon". Which is, objectively, the scariest thing they could have said. When they sneak away they start giving the hell crabs knives. Ducks down real low and starts pspspspspsp at the crabs before gently placing the knife into their claw.

On devilgram people start complaining of being stabbed in the legs by crabs. Mc couldn't be more proud.

My Mc can technically swim. If placed into water they know how to stay afloat. It's just that water absolutely hates them. Takes one step into the ocean a wave just knocks them onto their ass. Before they can even get up another wave crashes into them, keeping them down. They are drowning in less than a foot of water. The brothers just kinda stare at em, not sure what to do and if this is a survival of the fittest situation. After a moment Beel walks up and picks them up by their arm pits.

Spends the rest of the time at the beach looking for pretty rocks. Finds rocks that match every body and gifts it to them. And since everyone is so absolutely whipped for Mc, they keep the pretty colored rock.

- they will just fling themselves at any of the characters. It's a normal day at RAD until Mammom hears the pitty petter of feet running towards him. He turns around just in time to see Mc run, leap, and jump towards him. On pure instinct he reaches out and catches them. Before Mammon can ask wtf they're doing Mc loudly proclaims that Mammon passed! Good job! Passed what? Mc will not say.

Mc will climb into high surfaces to drop down into the demons arms. Satan and them will be at the library and Mc will call Satan over just to jump off of the book shelf ladder.

Nobody has failed to catch them because they're afraid what will happen if they don't. Barbatos is lucky because he has his future sight, so he has time to place down whatever he's holding and hold out his arms in preparation. Mc does this to Diavolo to and he's the only character who looks forward to Mc's surprise attacks. Man is so touched starved he just wants a hug.

- When Mc returns to the Devildom they bring along a roomba. Lucifer thinks that it's just there for cleaning. Mc tapes a knife to it. The brothers try and complain about stabby to them, but they retort that they're apart of the family! They can't get rid of them!

#obey me #obey me mc #my post #not smut #i should probably actually draw a picutre of my Mc so yall get a feel of what they look like....and maybe a name reveal?

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