Hey, I saw your post about writing a fic about alfie solomons x reader, I have an idea about a bet of switching roles, reader controls the bakery and alfie does whatever the reader does, see who survives the longest, could you also make it funny? ThanksThis idea came through my messages. It's such a gem of an idea and I'm gonna give it a go 😁 But, be warned.... I'm not very confident with my humorous capabilities 😬🤞
Okay, so this got completely out of hand. It's nearly a 2000 word headcanon. It's really not much of a headcanon though, it's more of a one-shot in bullet point form. I didn't even get the whole request filled. It was supposed to be Alfie and the reader swapping jobs for the day (but I liked the idea of them seeing each other work, and that's why the whole thing got out of hand). Maybe if you guys like this one, the rest can be written in a part 2 ???
Word Count: 1946
Warnings: Swearing. It is very suggestive, but there's no actual smut.
Please feel free to send a comment or message, I'd love to hear from you.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
• You and Alfie were a strange match, but somehow a perfect fit. Whilst you both may have started life in Camden Town, you took very different roads to success.
• Alfie earned his money doing things he would rather not talk about, at least not to you, and yet, you knew very well everything he was doing.
• You, on the other hand, worked extremely hard on the right side of the law, saving every penny to open up your own little boutique. At first, it was a tiny store way, way down a side street off the main shopping strip. And now, five shops later, you were located in the centre of the high street. A perfect little bespoke boutique that every designer fought tooth and nail to get their clothes into.
• And it was in that very first rather unimpressive shop that you met Alfie. He had been trying to coax his mother into the store to buy a dress for a funeral, but she refused in her thick Russian accent, "No, no. It's too fancy here. I wear one of my old dresses."
• To cut a long story short, you recognised his Camden Town accent (an accent you worked very hard to lose), went to offer assistance, instantly hit it off, and the rest is history. Now, back to the story.
• It started as a bet. One evening you were laying on the couch, your head resting in his lap, a peaceful silence lingering as he ran his fingers gently through your hair.
• When from nowhere you were overcome with dread at the thought of having to work in the morning, the thought manifesting into a rather loud and unexpected groan.
• In the very next second his fingers froze, his brows furrowing as he looked down at you with intent eyes, "What's got you all suddenly pissed then?"
