#peaky fandom

If you’re a Peaky girl you might like my novel-sized fic, Betrayal (if you prefer an OC there’s an alt version on ao3 which I personally prefer). I’m also really proud of my Emmett from A Quiet Place 2 fic, Reckless and I’m making it my mission to finish it this year.

And branching out, away from Cillian things, I fell in love with Slow Horses in 2024 and last year, as part of a fandom event, I wrote a multi-chapter fic called Fear of Falling, which I am really proud of because I wrote the whole thing in about 3 weeks 🙈 Not something I recommend trying but I think it turned out well!

Moments before, she’d been sitting on John’s lap during tea and then spend some time with Tommy as well, but now they needed to talk, so Teddy had been pushed off. Her brothers were discussing business at the table, and she and Finn were allowed to stay in the room, on the one condition they wouldn’t interfere.

“When do we do it, Tom?” Arthur asked.

Tommy replied in a low voice, “Black star day. I’ll tell you when.”

“How about Johnny’s men? He’s got at least a dozen good men...”

“I’ll let you form an army, Arthur, but just remember to trust kin first, then the rest.”

Teddy watched them. She knew what they were planning, or she knew a little about it, and knew it involved the fairs. Tommy had told her, that as soon as she’d turned nine, she’d be old enough to go with them. Just a few more weeks.

“Tommy, we promised them protection...” John continued, looking at the diary and the books at the same time. He seemed worried, but Tommy appeared more relaxed than ever, slouching slightly in his chair, smoking. He had it all in hand.

Teddy watched him and smiled. When she grew up, she wanted to be like Tommy.

Unfortunately, Aunt Polly had other ideas for now, so she entered the kitchen and announced herself with the words, “Time for bed, Teddy!”

“No, it’s not!” Teddy protested, wanting more than anything to just spend a few more minutes with her brothers. They didn’t have to play with her, they didn’t even have to talk to her; she just wanted to be near them when they talked to each other. Now that they were back, that was more than enough.

She shot a pleading look at her brothers, focusing on Arthur, because he was usually the easiest to sway. But Tommy flashed her half a smile when he noticed what she was trying and said, “Listen to your aunt, Teddy. If she tells you it’s time for bed...”

He always was the strictest with her. But Teddy was feeling brave today, so a mischievous look came over her as she told Tommy, “But it’s not yet bedtime! I swear! You can check, Tommy.”

Tommy felt around in his pocket for his pocket watch, but at the end of the delicate chain, he found nothing. For a second, he frowned in confusion. Then he thought about who the best pickpocket in the family was and his eyes were fixed on Teddy once again.

“That little imp,” Arthur growled, following Tommy’s eyes, “She took your watch, didn’t she? I knew she was up to something, looking all bloody innocent back there...”

“Fucking rascal,” John laughed, face full of pride. After all, he’d been the one to teach Teddy how to pick pockets, much to Polly’s dismay.

But Tommy didn’t say a word. He looked at Teddy and she looked at him. Then he held up the empty chain, as if to ask: was it you? And Teddy held up the watch, as if to say: of course it was me, I’m the best thief in Small Heath!

For a second, Tommy lowered his head, and everyone in the kitchen wondered whether he was hiding an impending outburst of fury or a smile. Hard to tell at this point. Then he lifted his head, but his expression remained emotionless.

Tommy motioned with his hand for Teddy to approach him, but when she didn’t, he just couldn’t bring himself to be angry with her. Full of affection, he mumbled, “Little devil...” and then, “Fucking come here!”

Teddy smiled cheekily, recognising the mirth in her brother’s eyes at once, and challenged, “No! You can come here!”

Tommy cleared his throat and sighed, “You have three seconds. Three...”

But his little sister just stuck out her tongue at him.

“Right!” He slammed a hand down on his knee, and got up. Anyone else would’ve been terrified by now, but not Teddy Shelby. She started jumping up and down at the game they were playing and shouted out, “Catch me if you can!”

A big grin spread across Tommy’s face and all of a sudden, he was up and chasing Teddy. The two of them sprinted circles all across the house and betting den, which was now deserted after a long day of work. Then, and only then, would Tommy allow himself to drop the facade of the tough Birmingham gangster and play with his little sister.

“Run, Teddy!” John urged her on, when the two of them passed him by for the third time in a very short time period. He, too, had a big smile on his face and for a moment, it was like France had never happened.

Teddy ran as fast as her little legs could carry her. Tommy was quicker, but she was smaller, which meant she could sometimes crawl under tables that he had to go around. Heart racing and panting, she was enjoying every second of this.

Aunt Polly watched them from the bottom of the stairs. Giggles resounded all through the house and an occasional shout of glee from Tommy when he’d almost caught her. “Before France, he used to laugh, a lot.” They all had, and in a way, Teddy was their time capsule, their window into the past, their portal.

“Gotcha!” Tommy growled, as his sister shrieked in his arms. Limbs flying everywhere, he carried Teddy back into the kitchen and loudly demanded in a voice that would make the rest of Birmingham quiver in terror, “Now what did you do with my watch, eh?”

As he was pretending to search for the watch, he tickled Teddy everywhere. Hanging almost upside down in Tommy’s arms, Teddy squeaked, “No, Tom! It’s not there!”

“Oh, right,” Tommy frowned and he moved on and dug a hand into her side, “Maybe in here?”

“Noooo,” Teddy burst out laughing again and tried to protect herself, but it was no use in her brothers’ arms.

“Just tell me where then,” Tommy sighed and switched sides, “Here?”

“NOOOOHOOO,” Teddy protested, until she managed to produce the watch from her trouser pocket herself. She stuffed it into Tommy’s offending hands and he raised his eyebrows in mock innocence, “Should’ve just told me it was there, Teddy.”

Exhausted now after all the fun, Teddy let herself slump down in Tommy’s arms and he held her like she didn’t weigh a thing.

“Say goodnight, boys,” Tommy said when he noticed, “This troublemaker is going to sleep.”

“Quick, John,” Arthur joked, “Check your pockets first!”

And when everyone had wished her goodnight, Tommy carried Teddy up to bed. In the darkness, he couldn’t see, but he could feel her getting heavy in his arms. As gently as he could, he put her sleeping form down on her bed.

Then he securely attached the watch to its chain again and sat back, as a smile crept on his face again, while whispering with all the love he had, “Teddy Shelby, you little devil...”

*****

'It's like a circus round here', she comments with optimism, pushing her head further out of the window. Miles upon miles littered with curiosities - street artists providing depictions of escape on the cold pavement, costermongers shouting their trade and yards of train advertisements pasted onto lampposts in every colour. Alluring as the sound of jazz and the sight of the Charleston might be, London shrouds itself in so much more potential for her than flappers and frivolity. His irked voice snaps her from her thoughts.

'It's fuckin' 'orrible, too many animals in this circus'.

His knuckles are white from his grip on the wheel, intense focus directed to the trams and wagons weaving ahead of them. The car agitates over the metal tramlines, as a brown Hovis truck cuts in front of the car, coercing Alfie to slam on the breaks.

'Oh fucking hell!'. His tone is booming as  he reaches into his pocket , pulling out a pistol to aim at the offending driver. Arabella's mouth slowly drops open, capturing his arm and pulling the gun under the dashboard, obscuring it from view. With narrow eyes she quickly looks around to scan the area.

'Have you lost your mind, Alfie?'

'Treacle, these idiots, they only understand one language.'

'Well, lets not have you arrested on my first night in London, eh?'

A small grunt emits from his throat. He yanks his hand easily from her grip and stashes his gun back into his coat pocket.

'Suit yourself,' he grumbles. The car has been overtook now on more than one occasion, another headache to add to his list. Still, best not to piss her off on her first night  and so he turns his eyes back to the road ahead and daydreams of shooting the bollocks off the Hovis driver.

Twisting an unstrung strand of hair repetitively around her finger, she can't help but think about where they are going. It's going to be her new home for the foreseeable future and given the volatile looking environment of his work place, Arabella isn't holding out hope.

Moments later, the noise level begins to filter away as if they have turned down a road that is miles from any civilisation. Thriving with colourful flora within well tended gardens, regency era town houses stand majestically at three stories and with the fanciest of facades. A short and  stoutly older woman canters down the pavement, before turning right into one of the houses and desperately trying to manipulate two heavy shopping bags in order to open her gate. Alfie slows the car down to a stop and beeps his horn, making the poor woman almost jump to the moon, she briskly turns around.

'Oh, vey Alfie! Are you trying to bring me closer to God?' Alfie opens the car door and takes the bags from her hands, opening her cast iron gate with ease.

'What did I tell you Mrs Goldman, mhm? No lifting and carrying these heavy bags, eh? Ishmael can take you to the market and bring you back.'

'Ah Alfie that poor lad does everything, I don't need him helping me as well. I ask God not for a lighter burden but for broader shoulders'. She simpers at him with a twinkle behind her brown eyes that Arabella did not observe before the lady spoke with Alfie.

'Worryin' about you yeh, will be the death of me! Now, tell me that landlord of yours 'as sorted that broken light fixture?'

'He's getting round to it'.

'So, that'll be a no then?' Alfie furrows his brow, making it crease with line after line and tilts his head to the side. 'You need me to have a word with him?'

Mrs Goldman chuckles earnestly before pinching his cheek between her thumb and forefinger.

'Don't be a Schmuck Alfie, the last time you did that my rent went up to pay for his hospital bill. Now, who is this beauty you're sharing your car with hmm?'' Looking around Alfie's broad shoulders, her gaze falls on Arabella who feels rather sheepish under her matriarch stare. Sighing, he pinches the tension from the bridge of his nose. The last thing he needs is for Mrs Goldman to start shooting her mouth off at her knitting circle and have the whole of the Jewish community gossiping before he has had time to formulate how he can position Arabella into his life.

'It should be fuckin' noted right, that nothing gets past you'.

Catching Alfie unawares, she uses her now free hand to provide a sharp whack to the back of his head, making his eyes scrunch. Arabella's eyebrows curve upwards as she swallows down the urge to laugh.

'This is Arabella Shelby, the sister of one of my close business associates. She's going to be staying with me until she gets settled in London'.

So, that's how he plans to play this. Arabella exits the car.

'Nice to meet you Mrs. . . erm...'

'Goldman, dear'. She shakes Arabella's hand, her light touch and weak grip showing just how delicate she is. Alfie was right, she shouldn't have been carrying those bags.

'Please accept my apologies for Mr Solomons lack of manners, I assure you dear, he does possess them somewhere'. She sends her a wink.

'I'll let you know when the search party I've sent out, actually find them.'

This tickles the grey haired lady who stomps her foot letting out a huge guffaw and patting Arabella on the arm.

'I like her Alfie, she is sharp of tongue as well as looks'. She flashes him a knowing smile, one that makes him shift from foot to foot. Much as he likes Mrs Goldman, he can muster no interest in her insinuating words.

'Right, well as much as I'd like to stand here as if i'm fuckin' not and be insulted, we have to get going. Miss Shelby here 'as 'ad a rather eventful day so, goodbye Mrs Goldman'.

She throws a harried glance at Alfie before returning a polite smile at Arabella.

'Now my dear, just you remember that I am but five doors down and that makes us neighbours. Should this  Mazik get to you, just pop on to my door and i'll make sure you're always greeted with a cup of tea and a listening ear.'

Alfie knew that her words served only to aggravate him. He places a hand on Arabella's arm to lead her back to the car and curses his poor decision making for stopping here in the first place.

'Lovely to meet you Mrs Goldman, I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of one another'. Alfie's gentle push to the car, turns into a shove.

'I'm sure we will my dear, and it's Nelly to you.'

Alfie watches to make sure Mrs Goldman enters her house safely.

'Sister of a close business associate? Dread to think how you'll introduce me to people when I'm your wife.'

'Arabella, that woman has a mouth wider than the Thames, best to give her as little detail as possible and save her choking on gossip'.

Crossing her arm over her waist and tucking it in at her elbow, she turns toward her window. With a roll of his eyes, he starts up the car. They don't have to travel far before the vehicle is once again stationary. Straightening  up in her seat, she observes the building in front of her.  All of the houses on the street were identical in their architecture, stressed in uniformity – this one however,  was built with a desire for individuality.  

'There ya go, look. Home, sweet-fucking-home'. He walks around the car to help her out. She is mesmerised by the grand blossom tree that pushes the house into almost obscurity due to it's size, looming over the black front door. Pale pink pieces that have been wooed from the tree by the spring winds, gather under her feet, a reminder of life's fickleness. Concealing herself behind Alfie, her cautious spirit holds an inner negotiation with her resilience as they walk up a black and white tiled pathway.  Inside the warmth of the house engulfs them both along with a nauseating charcoal smell. Her foot suddenly slides on something slippy on the marble floor. Bending down she picks up a folded piece of paper that is lay in the doorway. Alfie's name is written on it in the scrawled handwriting.

'Alright now, let's have a look and see if your suitcase has been dropped off... what's that?'

'You tell me, it's got your name on it.'

The blithe and animated Alfie Solomons she is getting to know  is barely recognisable now as an ashen and turbulent man stands across from her, a wrathful look in his blue-green eyes. Frantically he grapples the paper from her hands and faces away from her to peek at the contents.

'Must be something awfully important'. She says, standing on tiptoes to see over his shoulders. The note buckles into pieces as he folds it in his fist, harshly.

'Who's asking you?' his quick-tempered reply takes her by surprise and she narrows her eyes at him, making him clear his throat.

'It's a betting tip if you must know. As an occasional bookmaker, I do need to keep a sharp eye out for the fastest horses'.

He stashes the note into his deep pocket. They both stand facing one another, Alfie towering over her by a good few inches. Neither of them speaking, just eyes setting fire to the other pair. The door at the end of the hall bursts open and commotion on four paws comes bounding excitedly towards his owner.  

'Oh, 'ere he is look, the behemoth with a wagging tale. Ello mate, did you miss me?' Placing his hand onto his right hip, Alfie slowly bends down to fuss and stroke the solid bulk of his bull mastiff.

His incensed constitution replaced with playful humour by his four-legged friend. As if sensing the presence of a stranger, his dog bolts into an alert position and begins to bark anxiously and warningly at Arabella. Alfie prepares himself to calm down his probably panicked fiancé. He's not expecting the hand that comes to his elbow, pushing him aside as she crouches in front of the slobbering beast, offering her hand to smell.

'Hello, you. I've heard so much about you, don't you know?' She strokes her hand roughly over the top of the dog's head, which he immediately cocks and begins to excitedly wag his tail.  'See, your gruff and tough owner here is a huge softy when it comes to you, he doesn't shut up about you'. Alfie watches on as  she undauntedly makes a fuss, not caring about the amount of froth being drooled onto what looks like an expensive, if not gaudy, coat.

'Well, his name is Cyril and he's supposed to be an all powerful and protective breed, but I will acknowledge that it appears I was fuckin' lied to about that'. He crinkles his forehead as he watches Cyril gracelessly roll onto his back so Arabella can rub at his belly.

'Well I think he's just perfect., i'm sure we'll get on like a house on fire.

'Let's see if you're still saying that when he's all over you at five in the morning because he wants to go out for a piss'.

Arabella looks up at him and shakes her head. 'I can see Cyril here holds all the power in this house'.

'Oh yeh? An how do you work that out?'

She pushes herself up to standing and offers him a condescending smile. 'Because Alfie, power lies in loyalty and I can see how dyed-in-the-wool you are with him'.

'That so? Well, lets see where my loyalty gets him tomorrow when Edna sees these muddy paw prints on her mopped floor'.

'Edna?'

He scratches Cyril behind his ears as he steps closer to her.

'My maid. Lovely woman she is, reminds me of me Mother. You'll meet her tomorrow. Now, do you wanna see your new home?'

****************************************

Arabella piano-plays her fingertips on the dark walnut dressing table, listening to the rain outside as it pelts the windows and drips from the alien roof. She could float half way to heaven as she kicks off her slippers and the plush carpet hugs at her swollen feet. Alfie has spent some of the evening showing her around his impressive home. A big house, one she dreamed of owning as a child with it's polished wooden floors and graceful bannisters. Nothing like her Small Heath dwellings. Is it possible she is beginning to get homesick for a place she isn't even sure exists? One with love and where her soul is understood. However, when he had shown her the fully plumbed copper bath tub, she was ready to say 'i- do'  post haste.

Alfie is steadfast becoming a curious paradox – his abode is a beautiful palace, gleaming with a spotless silence. It's king, all the same is harsh and unpredictable with a flare of intelligence and good looks. Although she is hasten to admit it, he intrigues her.

Until Tommy sorts  the delivery of the rest of her things, all of her is compacted into the small suitcase that she pulls from the bed to put away She puts on her nightie, a soft cream silk slip – although well worn, still immaculate.  After an argument with Alfie regarding sleeping arrangements, they finally agreed that they should be adult enough to share a bed to make their relationship more realistic to his house staff. Standing in front of the floor length, mirror she watches as his mother's locket swings off her neck like a stranger. She pats the soft garment over her stomach - full from a delicious stew his maid had prepared, which she enjoyed alone. Alfie has secreted himself in his downstairs office and she has not seen sight nor sound of him all night..

The sound of smashing glass makes her jump, she can hear the thundering voice of Alfie barking out words she can't make out. Whatever the furore is, it's emanating from the upstairs landing. She quickly steps out of the room and sees the bathroom door ajar. Inside Alfie is desperately trying to wrestle Cyril inside a large fluffy towel. The floor around him is immersed in water and Alfie's shirt is saturated.

'Cyril, keep-the-fuck-still'. His fractious tone echoes off the bathroom tiles as he battles against his dog.

'Alfie, do you need some help?'

'No we've got this under control, ain't we boy'. As Cyril succumbs to submission, allowing his master to begin to towel dry his fur, Alfie looks up to acknowledge Arabella, his eyes immediately give her a once over and he feels the inside of his throat dry up as he spots her legs. Cyril takes advantage of his master's distraction and bounds his way out of the towel, bouncing his head off the copper bath in the process, before galloping his way to Arabella.

'Cyril! Ya daft, mad cunt! Get back 'ere now!' Taking not a ounce of notice, Cyril jumps frenziedly onto Arabella, wet paws pushing away at her.

'Get off 'er now ya demented lad! CYRIL! Fuck sake!'

Uncontrollable barks bite their way back at Alfie who is now tugging at his dog's paws, trying to gain purchase to pull him off her, flattened and trapped as she is against the wall.

'Fuckin' hell Cyril, what are you playing at, get off. . . stop trying to wrestle . . .CYRIL! I'm warning y. . . '

'SIT!' Her voice is loud and stern as she points to the floor with a free hand. Cyril obeys and sits down, Arabella following him to the ground, untwisting the towel from  around Alfie's fisted hands and slowly patting down Cyril's blubbery body. The dog sits calmly, with his head held up majestically as if he is content in being obedient for her.

'Right fuckin' turncoat ya are Cyril. Get one whiff of a woman and you forget about me, eh?' He folds his arms and leans against the door frame, watching as Arabella softly finishes drying.

'It's all in the tone, Alfie. You have to be stern not erratic'. She stands up smugly in front of him.

'S'at so?' He looks her up and down once more, only this time he notices just how wet Cyril has made her and he swallows hard. The light fabric of her night dress is now translucent and he can make out the shape of her ample breasts and the enticing colouring of her nipples. The quick glance he gets before looking away is like a blow to his chest. Her body is certainly holding his interest but he knows he can't take any more of her in. He does not want to look at all, but this was unavoidable.

Clearing his throat and picking up the towel from Cyril, he gestures to her chest.

'You might need this, to erm cover . . . ' She looks down and immediately covers her chest with her arms, taking the towel from him to dry off.

'I'm sorry about Cyril, he can be a right lunatic when he wants to be.'

'They're just tits, Alfie', she says as she notices how he has turned his body away from her.

'No, they're not just tits- they're yours and it's not up to my maniacal dog to expose them because he can't keep bloody still'. He moves past her into the bedroom and reappearing a few seconds later.

'You can wear this if you like, whilst you dry that off. I promise it's clean'. He hands her one of his white shirts which she gladly accepts.

'You're nothing like I thought you would be, Alfie'.

'Yeh?' He moves closer to her. 'That's because, right, true power lies in the unexpected'. They both stare at the other, as if taking notes, before he breaks the chain and walks away toward the staircase.

'Cyril, come on', he pats his leg and Cyril follows, leaving her flustered on the landing. Was it possible that Solomons possessed a more human side that contradicts his reputation? She turns away from the stairs and hurries into the bathroom to change. Closing the door, she notices Alfie's black wool coat hanging from the hook. The coat he placed his secretive letter in earlier. An uneasy feeling washes over her, she always respects privacy, to her far too many people can't live in silence for fear of missing applause from an audience who don't even care. She has to see what has him so vexed though -  if she wants to be ahead of him and her brother then she has to do some necessary digging. Before she can talk herself out of it, she plunges her hand into his pocket and pulls out the piece of paper. As she turns it over she can see that this is not the same note. This is a pink betting slip- after further rummaging, she realises he has moved the note elsewhere.

'Fuck' she says, annoyed. One final glance and she sees what looks like a phone number on the back.. She leaves the bathroom in a hurry, her hand concealing the slip.

Time After Time by @all-mirth-no-matter

Time travel modern vs canon timeline absolute genius story. It’s so vivid and the little details are just *chef’s kiss*

Misadventures by @moral-terpitude

Please, I am begging all of you, READ THIS STORY. It’s genuinely one of the best on here and worth the time investment. Modern!Tommy x OC (Quinn Meyer, you’ll fall in love).

Blind Date by @gypsy-girl-08

I picked this one but honestly all Liv’s stuff is worth a read and she has multiple Tommy long and mini-series available. This one is the OG tho.

The Boy In The Window by @notyour-valentine

Val is a master of her craft. Also check out her Downtown x Tommy crossover fic.

Tachipen by @zablife

I would literally read a shopping list if it was written by Lee. Known for her angst and dark fics this series is full of twists and intrigue, jumping between two timelines.

Birmingham @runnning-outof-time

K doesn’t write many series so this was a rare treat. For something shorter but not a one shot I also love The Woman On The Boat.

All We’ll Ever Need by @look-at-the-soul

This was the first thing of Mar’s I ever read and it’s a great little series set within canon.

Between The Shadows and the Soul by @evita-shelby

This was (I think?) Juli’s amazing OC, Eva’s original story. She’s an amazing character who just fits right into the Peakyverse

Family Ties by @peakyscillian

Fair warning, this one is quite dark but it also has all the fluff and filthy smut you would associate with Laura’s amazing writing. Well worth a read!

The Writer by @missymurphy1985

You need to scroll down that masterlist to find this little series but it’s such a good read - she was one of the first writers I discovered when I came looking for Peaky fics on here. Although she isn’t active anymore, her masterlist is a treasure trove of joy.

These Devilish Intentions by @emotionalcadaver

I have to confess I haven’t read this one yet but I’ve read other work by Lauren and she’s amazing so I’m certain this will be just as good! She has loads of Tommy x OC work for you to demolish!

Killing Me Softly by @brummiereader

Warning - this is a dark!Tommy fic. And I haven’t caught up on it yet but I remember seeing mutuals losing their minds over it so it’s on my list and should be on yours too!

Incarnadine by @3xc3lsior

This is on ao3 but I can never write one of these lists without recommending it because it’s SO GOOD!!! Fair warning, it’s enormous but it’s worth every minute. Reading this made me a better writer - it’s deliciously vivid and sensory.

Shelby Family Chaos by @teenwolf-theoriginals

This isn’t strictly a series but it’s a collection of stories about the same Tommy x wife!reader family and their brood, and each and every one of the stories is solid gold. I’ve used the link above because it’s got the links to the other stories (Mia, let me know if you have a masterlist for them and I’ll change the link - I couldn’t see one when I looked), but I recommend starting from the story linked in the first side note - afternoon shelby chaos.

Betrayal by me

Can I have a cheeky self-rec, in case you’ve not seen it? A one shot that grew arms and legs and taught me so much about writing, plot and character development.

Sorry if I’ve forgotten anyone, I feel like I have! I will add to this list as I remember stuff 🙈