Can You Please Write A Request Of Alfie Cheering Up A Very Sad Reader

Can you please write a request of Alfie cheering up a very sad reader

“Hello, luv” — (Alfie Solomons x Gender Neutral!Reader)

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SUMMARY — You've had what could best be described as a very long day. Week. Possibly a month. Alfie Solomons, as strange as he was as a boss, turned out to be a very good shoulder to cry on.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Hi Anon!!! I vibed with this request particularly hard today, not gonna lie... But because you didn't request a specific reader I wanted to keep it neutral, I hope it's okay? And of course I hope it makes you feel better!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

WORD COUNT — 889

“Hello, luv. Somethin’ interesting for me today?” Alfie greeted you as soon as you came to his office to bring him his morning mail.

It’s been that way for some time. He’d greet you and you would get all his “luv’s”, “pet’s”, “darlin’s”, and others. Ollie, you noticed, sometimes got a “hello”, other times a grunt or a nod. Everybody else got to see the big, bad wolf.

“Good morning, Mr. Solomons,” you said, quieter than usual, as you proceeded to stack various papers and documents on Alfie’s desk. “There is that order input you wanted, your mail, I got that… the novel you wanted and—”

“You all right, darlin’?”

You dared to look up. Alfie was looking straight at you or perhaps straight through you. The man honestly missed nothing.

“Yes! Yes, of course I am, sir.” You smiled, ever the skilled performer, and took the empty teacup from his desk. “Will there be anything else?”

Alfie, king among liars and bullshiters, squinted at you, but otherwise didn’t argue. He nodded and grunted something you couldn’t understand and so you took your leave.

It was at lunchtime when the question about your behaviour resurfaced. This time, Alfie approached you directly.

“Luv, there a reason why the new shipment order got ‘milk and eggs’ written where my signature should be?”

You froze in place, fingers hovering over the typewriter, but not daring to touch it again as Alfie leaned against your desk. A looming presence he had, if he really wanted to show it.

“I—”

“Right, an’ the bunch of ‘m’s’ here,” Alfie showed you a letter you had so diligently typed for him last night.

Proficiency in shorthand was actually the reason he hired you and it soon made you Alfie’s favourite employee. He talked often—and a lot—and as his assistant you had to be ready to take notes of pretty much everything Alfie deemed important.

It often was just the two of you, sitting in his office, with Alfie walking around the room and monologuing, and you writing down his thoughts, orders or enemy threats of outlandish nature.

When you saw the copy of the letter Alfie was holding, however, your blood curdled. It was the rough draft you had intended to throw away and it was indeed riddled with random chains of the letter ‘m’ — the origin of which had been you hitting the malfunctioning key in frustration, hoping you’d fix it by sheer force.

Safe to say, that was not the copy you wanted Alfie to see.

“Don’t think we can send that, pet, all right,” he frowned, still looking at the letter, “not unless we want my business partner thinkin’ I’m comin’ onto him like that… Or hummin’, yeah, don’t especially want people to think I’m a man who hums—”

The monologue, spoken more to the papers in his hands than to you, halted abruptly when he looked at you again.

“Y/N?”

You were never one for extreme emotions, especially not in the workplace, but the sadness and the anxiety bubbling up inside you for the past few weeks finally overwhelmed you. The added fear of losing this job turned out to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“I’m so sorry,” you said quietly, doing your very best not to burst into tears right then and there. “I’ll fix that for you right away…”

You took the papers from him, hands shaking, and you looked down to hide your face when you felt the first few tears run down your cheeks.

Alfie stopped talking and as sure as you were that was it and you were going to get sacked, you never expected the man to sit you back down and hand you a handkerchief.

“Ah, fuck, listen… Take that, it’s clean.” He paused, looking and probably feeling terribly out of his depth. “Don’t cry, I was just teasin’ ya, right…”

You shook your head and dried your eyes, still unwilling to speak in fear that you might cry even more if you did.

“It’s nothing you said,” you admitted. “Excuse me…”

“Then what is it?” he grunted, his confusion palpable.

“It’s… My cat is sick.”

“You don’t have a cat.”

You looked him in the eye and lied, that was a fact, just as much as it was a fact that Alfie Solomons, the Liar Emperor himself, did not tolerate lies in his place of business.

“Listen, yeah?” Alfie paused and sighed. “There ain’t no real reason why I can’t legally change my name to ‘milk’n’eggs’, right…”

You laughed at that and finally dared to blow your nose in front of him. He seemed amused.

“I’m so sorry…” you said. “I don’t know how to explain—”

“Who did this to ya?” Alfie asked you instead.

You sighed and shook your head, but then completely out of nowhere he put his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at him. He was serious for once, frowning and letting you know with his entire being that he was listening intently.

“Whatever it is, yeah… you can tell me. Now, I can promise ya, I’ve heard it all before.”

“Really?” You managed a small smile. “I doubt that, Mr. Solomons…”

“Try me.”

“All right.” You closed your eyes and Alfie squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. “Fuck. Where do I even begin…”