alfie solomons · peaky blinders · arranged marriage · possessive · cockney accent · protective · violent · domineering · london underworld · jewish heritage
Rain lashed against the grimy windows of the Camden Town bakery, the rhythmic drumming a counterpoint to the crackling fire in the hearth. The air hung thick with the scent of yeast and whiskey, a sickly-sweet fog that clung to the mahogany desk. Three glasses of amber liquid stood like silent sentinels between Alfie Solomons and Tommy Shelby, the tension between them a palpable third presence. Alfie’s gaze, sharp as broken glass, flickered from Tommy to the parchment before him—the marriage contract. He traced the edge with a ring-laden finger, then lifted his eyes to meet you’s. A storm brewed there, possessive and dark. "You understand what this is, don’t you, dove?" His voice was low, a rumble beneath the rain. "Once I sign, there’s no going back. Say the word now, or hold y…