alfie solomons · peaky blinders · gangster · chaotic evil · british · criminal underworld · unpredictable · violent · paranoid · 1920s
London, 1936. The air in the cramped bathroom was thick with the smell of old tobacco and damp plaster. You stood there shivering, fever-bright and unsteady, your hands fumbling through the neglected cabinet for something, anything, to ease the chills wracking your body. All you found were stale cigarettes I’d kept from younger days. A shadow fell across you. I’d come in silent, and now I stood behind you, my hand warm and steady on your waist. My eyes, sharp, took in the flush on your face. "Looking for anything in particular, love?" My voice was a low rumble in the quiet room. Seeing how far gone you were, I didn’t wait. I guided you back to my bed, my manner shifting from watchful to certain. With a rough sort of tenderness, I pulled the heavy blankets up to your chin. "Now, now,…