PEAKY BLINDERS IMAGINES

Alfie Solomons 'Ghosts of Camden'

The air by the docks smelled of salt, rot, and betrayal.

You pulled your coat tighter around yourself, the heavy mist curling around your boots as you made your way down the empty wharf. Your heart beat wildly in your chest, every step fueled by a fury you had been nursing for months.

Alfie Solomons was dead.
At least, that's what everyone said.

You had mourned him in silence, grieved the way you grieved a man who had always been half-mad, half-miracle. You buried the grief inside you, because the world didn't stop spinning just because your heart had broken.

But then — whispers. A slip of the tongue from an old associate, a coded message left at your door. And finally, a name.

Camden Town. Tonight. Warehouse 17.

You should have turned away. Should have left the dead to stay buried.

But Alfie Solomons was never the kind of man who stayed dead for long.

***

The door to Warehouse 17 creaked as you pushed it open.

At first, there was nothing. Just dust swirling in shafts of weak moonlight, crates stacked high against the walls. You stepped inside, your boots echoing sharply against the worn floorboards.

And then—

"Fuckin' hell," a rough voice muttered from the shadows. "Knew you'd come stormin' in like a bloody hurricane."

You froze.

The voice hit you like a bullet to the chest.

Slowly, a figure emerged from the gloom. Lame, limping slightly, his broad frame hunched with old pain — but unmistakably alive.

Alfie fucking Solomons.

Your breath caught. A thousand emotions warred inside you — relief, rage, disbelief, love.

You said the only thing you could:

"You bastard."

Alfie gave a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, love, that's fair."

You stalked toward him, fists clenching at your sides.

"You let me think you were dead!" you hissed. "I grieved you, Alfie! I buried you in my heart, and you—you've been hiding like a coward!"

Alfie held up his hands, palms out, voice soothing. "Now, listen, right, listen to me, 'cause it weren't that simple, sweetheart, right? Weren't just a game of hide and seek—"

You cut him off, shoving at his chest. He barely budged, but the action seemed to stagger him more than any bullet could have.

"You lied to me."

The warehouse buzzed with silence. Alfie stared at you, his face heavy with guilt, the scars along his temple more pronounced under the low light.

"I thought you'd be safer," he said finally, voice rough. "Safer if you thought I was gone. Safer without my mess spillin' into your life."

You shook your head, tears burning in your eyes.

"You don't get to decide that for me," you said, voice trembling. "You don't get to leave me."

Alfie stepped closer, cautiously, like approaching a wounded animal.

"I ain't proud of it, darlin'," he said lowly. "I ain't proud of a fuckin' thing I've done. Except you."

You blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice.

"I thought," Alfie continued, "if I stayed dead, you'd find someone better. Some decent fella. No blood on his hands."

You let out a broken laugh. "There's no one better, Alfie. You idiot."

He smiled at that — a small, sad smile — and reached out, brushing his rough knuckles against your cheek.

"Still want me, even now?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Broken and battered and half a ghost?"

You leaned into his touch before you could think better of it. Your heart had already forgiven him, even if your head hadn't caught up.

"I always wanted you," you said, choking back a sob. "I never stopped."

Something inside Alfie crumbled. You could see it — the relief, the regret, the sheer stubborn love.

In one swift move, he gathered you into his arms, crushing you against his chest. You clung to him, breathing him in — the scent of salt, smoke, and home.

"I'm sorry, love," he murmured into your hair. "So sorry."

You pulled back just enough to punch him lightly in the chest. "You're an asshole."

"Yeah," he agreed, nuzzling your forehead. "World-class."

You laughed wetly, wiping at your eyes.

"How are you even alive?" you asked finally. "Tommy said he shot you."

Alfie grimaced. "He did, right. Good shot too, for a skinny little bloke. Thought he finished me off, but turns out, Alfie Solomons is a stubborn son of a bitch."

You snorted despite yourself.

"Doctor patched me up. Spent months healin' in the dark. Hid out in Margate for a bit. Bit of sun, bit of fish, terrible fuckin' beer."

"All that time, and not a word to me?" you whispered.

Alfie stroked your hair, his hand trembling slightly.

"I couldn't face you, love. Couldn't stand to see the hurt in your eyes. Was easier thinkin' you hated me than knowin' I broke you."

You shook your head fiercely. "You didn't break me, Alfie. You're the only thing that kept me together."

His lips brushed yours then — tentative at first, almost reverent — like he was asking permission to come back to life through you.

You answered him with a kiss that stole the breath from both your lungs.

When you finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

"I'll never leave again," he vowed hoarsely. "You hear me, Y/N? Not even if the whole bloody world comes knockin'."

"You're damn right you won't," you whispered, threading your fingers through his beard.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest.

"Got plans, y'know," he said, voice lighter now. "Big plans. Gonna build somethin' better. Safer. For us."

You arched an eyebrow. "A bakery?"

Alfie laughed, full and rich. "Fuck no. No more bloody bread. Thinkin' something a bit less volatile. Maybe a quiet little tavern by the sea. Somewhere no one gives a toss about gang wars or politics."

You smiled, heart swelling. "Sounds perfect."

He kissed you again, softer this time. A promise.

"Stay with me, love," he whispered. "Let's start over."

You pulled him closer, feeling the steady, unbreakable beat of his heart against yours.

"Always," you said.

***

Later that night, you sat with him by the docks, legs dangling over the edge, the mist rolling around you both like a secret the world wasn't meant to see.

Alfie's arm was heavy around your shoulders, his presence solid and real.

The man the world had buried had come back for you.

And this time, you weren't letting him go.

Not for anything.