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themultifandomgal · 2 months

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Hi love, can i request one for peaky blinders? Where y/n is in school with Finn and he knows she’s struggling at home so he asks Tommy and the others if they can get her a job or something to help her out. So maybe she gets to clean at the Garrisons and/or maybe watch John’s kids. One night when he gets home late she stays and help him clean up and maybe something happens. Then he says he doesn’t need any help with the kids anymore. Cause he feels bad dragging her in to that life and taking care of his kids and all. But everytime they meet they can’t keep away from eachother.. they end up together maybe Tommy speaks some sense into John or have a talk with y/ns parents to let her marry John? You can do with this idea what you like? I would love to read it!

John Shelby- Can’t Stay Away

Hey! So I changed it a little because of the ages hope that ok so instead of being in school with Finn YN went to school with John and they stayed good friends.

John and I have been friend since we were 4 years old when we started school. My home life wasn’t always great, my father was an alcoholic and my mother was abusive. Mrs Shelby ended up most evening cooking me meals, making sure I had clean clothes. When she passed away it broke all of us.

After wanting to leave my home, Polly gave me a place to live, but finding a job was very hard so I ended up marrying a man who I didn’t love, but he passed away during the war. Tommy got me a job at the Garrison and after Martha passed away I started helping John look after his kids, which caused me to start catching feelings for him. I’ve been doing this now nearly every other day, picking the kids up from school.

Today was no different. I just put them all to bed when John finally comes home

“Hey” I smile at him “have you eaten anything? There’s left overs….”

“I’m getting married” he blurts out making me stop walking towards the kitchen. I turn around with a frown on my face, my heart feels like it’s been crushed into thousands of tiny pieces

“Oh” is all I can say

“It’s errr Lizzie. Lizzie Stark”

“What?” Lizzie? The woman who’s slept with all of the Shelby brothers, well all except Finn as he’s like 12

“Yeah so errr I don’t need to to help out anymore”

“Oh. Ok erm well I’ll erm see you round then” not really knowing what to say I give John a small smile “congratulations John. I hope she makes you happy” I quickly grab my coat and leave Johns house before he can see that my eyes are starting to tear up.

Over the next few days YN tries her best to stay away from John, but she just can’t. Not only is that her best friend but she loves him. Tommy being so wise knows how YN feels, but he also knows John also has feelings for his best friend. He’s just being stubborn.

Tommy and his brothers are sat in the snug at the Garrison nursing a whiskey

“She’s gonna change”

“She’s not. I offered her money and she took it”

“Fuck!” John yells running his hands over his face

“But ya know who wouldn’t take the money… YN”

“Tom…”

“Tommys right John. That girl loves you. She has from the day you met”

“But she got married” John frowns at his Aunt who rolls her eyes

“Men… she married because you got married”

“But…”

“Yes you did the right thing, but did you love Martha?”

“Of course I did”

“Like the way you love YN?” Tommy ask

“I….”

“Your a fool if you marry Lizzie” Arthur comments downing his whiskey. Just then there’s a knock on the door and YN walks in

“Hey I’m just about to go, but is there anything else you want before I leave?” YN asks looking around, mainly looking at John

“No thank you love. We’ll see you tomorrow” Polly smiles. YN nods her head and says bye to everyone before walking out. Tommy looks at John who’s staring at the door of the snug. Tommy then looks at the door then back at John

“Bloody hell, go after her!” John quickly gets up and leaves the room as quick as he can. Tommy downs his whiskey “thank fuck for that”.

John runs down the street shouting YN’s name. YN stops and turns round confused to why John is runnin after her. Had she forgotten something?

“John?” but before anything else could be said Johns lips are immediately on YN’s. YN pulls back still feeling confused “why did you do that?”

“Because I’ve finally had some sense knocked into me. I love you YN. I can’t stay away from you. It’s you I want to marry, to help look after my kids and maybe even had kids with… that’s if you’ll let me?”

“What about Lizzie?” YN asks

“I’ll break it off with her, I promise, but…” John then gets down on one knee “will you marry me?”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear. Of course I will” with that John gets up and spins YN round, kissing her lips. Little did the couple know that Tommy had also left the Garrison hoping to catch a glimpse of the two. He won’t ever tell anyone, but he did smile when he saw his brother and YN happy in each other’s arms finally.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #john shelby x y/n #john shelby x you #john shelby x oc #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 months

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La Dolce Vita - John Shelby/Cosima Changretta (OFC).

So, I decided to begin this new little series of mine, besties. It shan't be delivered in regular chapter form, but a series of one-shot parts that will tell the story of John and Cosima's marriage, beginning from their wedding day. I hope you enjoy it :)

Words - 3,682

Warnings - Each part will be adult only content, from swearing to eventual smut and violence. Minors DNI.

Part I - Inferno

The blood of a thousand men could stain a thousand streets, cold, hard warfare spinning out of control in a haze of spatter and gunpowder, yet sometimes all it took was the presence of a woman to end it all.

And it had.

It didn’t mean the woman in question had to like it, though.

“No.” The word fell from his lips with mild irritation as he took in the sight before him. “You will not wear black.”

Cosima didn’t even attempt to hide her distain. “Why not? This is a death, after all.”

Luca couldn’t help but feel entertained by her words, even though she was rapidly whittling him down to his very last nerve. “You are so dramatic, la mia sorellina.” She always had been. “It’s about time you were somebody’s wife, and you will make a good wife, too. Every man betrothed to an Italian woman should recognise how damned lucky he is.”

“And me?” Her cadence rose sharply, her voice bordering on shrill. “What about me, Luca?”

9:23am and already, he wished he’d had the sense to bring some aspirin with him. “You will do as you are told, Sima. And wear white while you do it.”

The silky drawl of her brother never rose beyond the smooth hush he spoke with, but his words packed the same punch as they would have had he yelled them. He was also the only person alive who she allowed to shorten her name. People had called her Cos in school, swiftly ending up with a slapped face for it. Her Italian fire had been lit pretty much since the day she’d been born. “I wish I’d brought mama with me now.”

His lip curled, a soft rumble of a laugh echoing his throat, sucking on the matchstick he pulled from between his lips as he pointed it at her. “We both know why you didn’t.”

“Yes,” she chirped, admiring her reflection in the mirror, “you’re paying.”

Again, she prompted his smile. Few did, really, save Anna Maria, his wife, as well as his sons, Joey and Guiseppe. “I am, cara mia. Listen, if you want the black dress, I’ll buy it for you. You won’t be married in it, though. Imagine if mama was here, eh? She’d be, ah, much more vocal than I about it.”

This was true. Audrey would have taken over rather than sitting quietly like Luca. “I’m beginning to think she’d fuss much less than you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Try on the next dress, for the love of god.”

Huffing and cussing in their native tongue, Cosima flounced back behind the privacy screen, getting herself out of the dress, the nearby assistant helping her into the white lace gown. Her face was a picture of utter contempt upon emerging, raising her middle finger when Luca quietly applauded her appearance.

“Perfect.”

“I fucking hate it,” she sneered, the assistant’s eyes bulging a little at her coarse language.

“Cosima, you would hate even the most exquisite of gowns, crafted by the finest of designers,” he pointed out, standing and walking to her slowly. He reached beneath her chin, raising it up, placing a little kiss upon her forehead. “You look beautiful. La belladonna. It is done.”

His word was final, and she knew this well. It did not mean she had to be quiet or graceful in her compliance, though. Being wed to a Shelby, after all they had done, the war that had seen the deaths of both her treasured brother and beloved papa, was not a fate she relished in.

Negotiations in order to cease the bloodshed and forge ahead in a new bond, running Shelby gin into New York with the assistance of her family and their connections had been sealed by a proposed joining of their families through marriage. Her marriage, to John Shelby.

How she had screamed and complained when Luca had informed her of this truce sealing union. Glasses and ornaments had been smashed in tempestuous fury, Cosima’s ire reaching the kind of decibels that had taken Luca and Audrey much effort and nips of gin to quieten, the youngest of the Changretta clan storming from her mother’s home, walking the streets, chain smoking in blind fury.

The only silver lining? At least Luca had not decreed that she marry the man who had killed her father, not that she actually could. For his sins, Arthur Shelby breathed no longer. Neither did Grace Shelby, nor Esme Shelby, the late wife of the man soon to be her husband, the gypsy beauty getting in the way of a hit meant for John on Christmas Day and lamentably not surviving it.

And Cosima thought her hand dealt was bad. For John, it was decidedly bleaker by far.

His brother was gone, his wife was gone, his sister-in-law was gone, and his fate was now bound to a person belonging to a family whom he couldn’t stand with any ounce of tolerance. Tolerance was what he had to show, though, in order to keep relations smoothed over, before anybody else ended up dead.

“It’s a fresh start for us all, John boy,” Tommy began, standing in front of his brother, straightening his tie. “I don’t expect you to be happy about it, but...”

“Good, ‘cos I ain’t,” he cut in with, his jaw tightening, refusing to meet his brother’s eye. “Esme is barely fucking cold, and you’ve got me marrying some wop bitch. Trust me, Tom. I ain’t fucking happy in the slightest.”

The elder Shelby truly had no comeback for that. He knew his actions were a slap in the face to John, to Arthur, to Esme and to the love of his life, but there was no other way around it. He didn’t plan on losing anybody else to a war that could be negotiated through. It had been tough to bargain, but peace had been restored finally, Tommy reasoning that scores had been settled upon both sides of the divide.

They were more than even. In fact, they truly weren’t, two lives on the Changretta side, three on the Shelby, two innocent women coming into the crossfire and dying because of it. He was not prepared to lose more. If he could also turn a very tidy profit while not losing more, then so be it.

Finally, he managed to catch the icy stare of his brother, Tommy squeezing his shoulders. “Give it time. At least you’re getting wed to an attractive woman. Could have matched you to a right scrag, but I didn’t.”

She could have been the queen of fucking Sheba for all John cared. Her beauty or lack thereof was neither here nor there. She wasn’t Esme, and that was all there was to it. “Gotta habit of this, you have, marrying me off to some bird I ain’t ever clapped eyes on until I get to the altar, all for the sake of keeping the peace.”

There hadn’t been an actual altar at his wedding to Esme, but this time there was no room for negotiation. The priest local to the district Cosima Changretta lived in had been given a hefty bung to marry them, regardless of the fact that John was a non-practising Catholic. Usually, Father David would have required he at least attend weekly mass for a few months prior to the wedding, but this wasn’t possible when the union had been set up to take place within the space of a week from its original incarnation.

Through his disesteem, John wasn’t blind to see the benefits of joining the families in order to broker peace, though. He just wished there was some other way, one that didn’t involve him forsaking his late wife’s memory, or literally getting into bed with a member of the very family who had taken three members of his.

With a red rose buttonhole pinned to his charcoal suit – those specific flowers at Cosima’s request – they headed out to the waiting car, ready to be ferried across Birmingham to the district of Bournville, to St Francis of Assisi.

“Holy shit, the waft of that bloody chocolate," Polly spoke from the back of the car, the famous Cadbury factory emitting the heady scent of it’s delicious confectionary. “Making my mouth water, it is.”

“Well, as long as the air smells like Dairy fucking Milk, all’s right as rain, ain’t it, Pol?” John muttered, watching the little black and white houses dotted along the main road pass them by. It was such a different landscape than the one he was used to, the village of Bournville so very picturesque and quaint.

Polly tutted. “Oi, less of your fucking lip, our John. Don’t make today any harder than it has to be by being a surly shit about it.”

“Yeah, but...”

She cut his protests dead with her usual blunt retort. “We know, for the love of god! You’ve vented your spleen so hard at this, I’m surprised you have one left! This isn’t ideal, but it’ll bring us peace and let me rest my fucking head easy at night, not worrying when the next of my fucking nephew’s is going to end up riddled with bullet holes. Now, put your fucking face straight. We’re nearly there.”

He could have begun his protests once more, vented at how it wasn’t right that he was being thrown into wedlock again just four months after his second wife had died, how at thirty years old, he shouldn’t have already had to attend the funerals of two Mrs. Shelby’s, but he knew it would serve him little good.

Arriving at the church, they made their way inside, John surprised to be greeted kindly by Audrey Changretta, who was standing talking to the verger.

“A lot of water has gone under the bridge, John. All I want going forward is for you to be a good man to my Cosima. Can you do that for me, love?”

His heartstrings were yanked upon hard, knowing how much his actions had devastated her. She looked weary from it all, the sparkle in her eyes non-existent. He’d never wanted her to be hurt in all of this, the teacher he held so many fond memories of, the woman he had steadfastly refused to murder in cold blood. “I can. I promise I will.”

She patted his cheek, smiling thinly. That smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and for that he couldn’t blame her. “Thank you.” She exchanged nods with Polly and Tommy, the Shelby’s moving into the church, smiling to their family and friends as they passed the pews, the Changretta presence outnumbering them by about two to one.

He and Tommy stood to the side of the altar, Polly taking a seat at the first pew between Finn and Ada, the latter giving the groom-to-be a bolstering smile. It had little of its desired effect, John feeling a cold swirl of discomfort growing chillier by the moment. “Forgive me, Esme. I fucking wish this weren’t happening just as much as I wish you were still here, love.”

His deeply lamenting thoughts were banished by the sound of the organ keys pressed upon, the church filling with music as the congregation stood, Father David quickly shaking both his and Tommy’s hands before his focus shifted towards the doors, beaming as he watched Cosima escorted in by her brother. The bride looked exquisite in her white lace gown, her cascading veil shrouding her face, the dress very quintessentially Italian in fashion.

John didn’t dare turn around and watch her walk to him, only aware of her arrival at his side from the strong plume of Chanel perfume entering his nose, finally turning to see Luca gently lift her veil, kissing her cheek and whispering a few words in Italian to her. He then moved to John, surprising him by offering his hand.

“To famiglia, eh?”

“Yeah,” he coughed, shaking it. The Italian’s grip was like Iron, his face unflinching. There was no true warmth there. “To family.”

Luca moved to sit at his mother’s side, John finally letting his eyes fall to his left, taking her in for the first time. His throat tightened in an instant. He’d thought Esme to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, the guilt of the fact that Cosima Changretta was the biggest knockout he’d ever witnessed hitting him hard.

As for his soon to be wife, when her piercing blue eyes found his, the sensation of her heart skipping on three consecutive beats made her feel a little nauseous for a moment.

He was gorgeous.

Why did he have to be gorgeous? It would have made hating him so much easier if he’d been ugly.

“At least I will have something nice to look at, while I’m throwing plates at his head.” She thought, turning to the priest and smiling as best she could, given the circumstances.

The ceremony was a long, tedious affair, the bride wishing for a traditional mass that bored the balls off John. He did well to hide it, though. What he failed miserably at was looking in any way, shape or form happy when they were pronounced man and wife, offering her a chaste kiss to the cheek, a speedy peck of non-affection. Cosima was relieved he hadn’t leaned to her mouth. She wasn’t ready for that yet.

Taking his arm, she walked back down the aisle as the newest member of the Shelby family, her eyes sad as she looked at her mother and brother. They smiled at her with loving pride, Cosima dropping her chin, lest they see the tears in her eyes as she walked alongside her new husband, a man she couldn’t stand. True, she knew nothing of John Shelby, other than what he’d had a hand in taking from her.

With every step, she had to physically prevent herself from gathering the bridal lace swathing her slender curves and running, back to Acacia Road, back to the family home. This was where she desired to be, out in the flower filled back garden tending to her roses, taking cuttings of herbs ready to be brought into the kitchen and tutored by her darling mother in everything from Carbonara to baked Ziti.

She longed for the scents of her mother’s pasta, to hear her father’s key in the door, his whistled tunes filling the homestead as she’d wipe her hands upon her apron and run to greet him. Her papa, the man she loved and respected the very most. Gone.

“You erm, you look beautiful, Cosima.”

His face did not match his compliment, Cosima looking up at her new husband, her face stony. “I know. Shame my dream wedding didn’t come with the dream groom, though.”

John sniffed, his eyebrow tilting a fraction. “Ahh, you might still get it yet. We can get divorced and give it another go with other people. Who knows? I could nail it lucky the fourth time around.”

Her eyes widened. “You’ve been married twice before?”

“Ar.”

“And what the blinking hell happened to them?” she demanded, wondering just what her brother had gotten her into, marrying her off to a man who was on his third wife.

“They died, if you must know,” he frowned, reaching the end of the aisle, the door opening, a cascade of confetti hurled at them from the throng of guests exiting behind them.

“Lucky them.” Her mutter was drowned out by the sound of happy cheers, or at least she thought it had been. Her new husband had heard it, though, wanting nothing more than to slap her in her rude mouth for her coldly delivered statement.

“Great, got myself hitched to a stunner and she’s a right nasty little mare.” he spoke, certainly loud enough for her to hear, releasing the hold upon her arm and moving to receive congratulations from his family. Cosima narrowed her eyes at him in his wake, turning to smile brightly at her friends, her hands taken in theirs, cheeks kissed, her heart thrumming with waves of sadness. A right nasty little mare. That’s what he thought of her, Cosima’s indignance burning brightly for a while, not able to reflect upon the fact that what she’d said had indeed been very spiteful.

At twenty-three, she truly should have known better. With two dead wives behind him and a bitterness that still lingered beneath the surface between the two families, she guessed he was likely as thrilled to be married to her as she was to him. An apology perhaps wouldn’t go amiss.

Once they’d posed for a few photographs, the bride and groom were shown to the waiting Rolls Royce Silver Cloud, John holding the door open for her, following her in and staring stonily out of the window as they pulled away from the church.

She felt awkward and ashamed of her words, moving her thumb back and forth over one of the large thorns the florist had neglected to remove from the bouquet of red roses. “John, I apologise for what I said, about your late wives being lucky. I only meant that... I don’t know what I meant, actually.”

She was met by a cold, two worded statement. “Fuck off.”

Deserved, to be fair. Predictably, Cosima let it spark at her kindling rather than rushing for water, though. “That’s impossible, now I’m your wife. Don’t bloody pout at me. I said something regrettable, but because of your family I don’t have Angel or my father any longer. You yourself are directly responsible for the former. If you hadn’t beaten him within an inch of his life, he wouldn’t have lay vulnerable in hospital, ripe for the plucking. And let’s not forget that scumbag of a brother of yours, who killed my papa.”

He tutted, chewing his toothpick with hostility. “Don’t act like you’re the only one who lost somebody you loved. Fucking gone right over your head, ain’t it? Because of your family, I lost me wife, brother and sister-in-law. We’re in the same boat, Cosima.”

“You started all of this. You could have just let Lizzie be happy with Angel, but no! You had to burn his restaurant to the fucking ground. What is it you dumb Shelby fucks say, hmm? By order of the Peaky Blinders, that’s it! Your way or the highway!”

Bile began licking at his insides. “Your brother weren’t good enough for Lizzie. She’s a good woman, and he was a fucking duplicitous shit. Didn’t even have the balls to use his real name for half his dealings. At least we stand by who we fucking are.”

Her rage escalated by the second, staring at him incredulously. “My brother had the sense to be clandestine, and you will not speak of him like you knew him! So, he partnered with your enemies, so fucking what? The way you Shelby’s conduct yourself, you make enemies left and fucking right! You took my family away from me for nothing. Nothing!”

John eyed her viciously, his eyes losing any trace of warmth. “They fucking deserved it, and you, you spoiled little wop bitch? You deserve nothing less than every fucking ounce of my contempt. We’re married in name only, believe me. Ain’t no way I’m gonna be a good husband to you, no matter what I promised your mom.”

“Fine by me!”

The air virtually crackled with their mutual distain, Cosima shuffling as far as she could get away from him, muttering cusses in Italian.

“I know what testa di cazzo means,” he spat.

“Good!” she fumed, “I want you to know I think you’re a dickhead!”

The reception was being held at a small hotel local to the church, Cosima storming out of the car and not looking back, fixing a huge, fake smile to her face as she was welcomed by the staff. Immediately, her eyes locked onto a waiter carrying a tray of champagne filled flutes, taking one and knocking it back. A second was reached for, John arriving at her side.

“Whiskey please, mate. Fucking large one.”

The waiter nodded. “At once, sir.”

They stood together to welcome their guests, both repelled by one another’s presence, going through the motions of everything. Cake cutting, first dance, spending as much time as they could away from one another. It was while John was seeking the solace of quiet and fresh night air much later that evening, standing on the rear patio of the hotel smoking a cigar, that he found himself joined by the last person he expected.

“Can I give you some advice, John?”

Turning to Luca, he raised an eyebrow, the tall Italian continuing. “If you want a quiet life with my sister, you need to keep her in the lifestyle she’s become accustomed to. I love that girl to her bones, but she’s a fucking spoiled princess.”

His eyes widened. “You can say that again.”

Luca’s mouth twitched, removing the toothpick he’d been idly chewing on. “My father bent to her every whim, being his only daughter. She was daddy’s little girl. Roses, diamonds, furs, French perfume, she loves all of that. You treat her good and she’ll be sweet with you. And make sure she has a garden. That kid lives for horticulture.”

Luckily, he was wealthy enough to provide such luxuries for his new bride, not that he wanted to. Not that she deserved even one of them. “Noted.”

He nodded, turning to leave his new brother-in-law to it, pausing suddenly as he pointed the toothpick in his grasp at him. “Oh, and John? She’s got a thing for hurling plates. Learn to duck.” Laughing to himself, he carried on back into the hotel, while John felt a prickle of annoyance at his statement, or rather how much pleasure he’d derived from delivering the news that Cosima was nothing short of a bad-tempered handful.

Standing out there alone, he did hope that one day he might see her as something different. Whether that day would come swiftly or not was anybody’s guess, though.

#john shelby fanfiction #john shelby x ofc #peaky blinders fanfiction #luca changretta fanfiction #john shelby smut #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #john shelby x oc #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic

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zablife · 7 months

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Stolen Angel

Created for @call-sign-shark 1K celebration. Congrats again, darling! I chose the 2nd theme: angel with the angst prompt "This isn't right." I hope you enjoy it!

John Shelby x Heaven Lavey Shelby

A/N: Heaven Shelby is an OC belonging to @call-sign-shark and is Arthur Shelby's wife.

John always felt a deep connection to his brother’s wife, Heaven. When the enemy attacked him on his doorstep Christmas morning 1925, he swore he saw a blinding light around her small frame as she used all her healing powers to pry him from the cold embrace of death. Now he felt bound to protect the woman he thought of as his guardian angel. It was a vow he upheld when Arthur stole himself away from the Changrettas and everyone he cared about.

John was merely a brother doing his duty to family. However, the tenuous thread between friendship and something more suddenly snapped when Heaven confided she wished to stay longer. She needed time to herself after Arthur’s deceit which had been too much for their short marriage to bear. When Heaven realized they were crossing a line she warned, "This isn't right," and John had to agree.

Arthur was his flesh and blood after all, but he couldn't help the overwhelming feeling that his loyalties were shifting despite himself. Every moment spent in Heaven's intoxicating company convinced him they were meant for one another. Each morning with the children a glimpse of what their life together could be. When Arthur returned one day high on snow, angry and violent, it was all John needed to act swiftly and mercilessly.

He tortured himself with the memory of his fateful decision every day for years to come as he sat rotting in his prison cell without so much as a letter from the woman he was so enchanted with long ago. He was only certain of one thing when he thought of atonement for Arthur’s murder. He had attempted to bend the will of the heavens and fallen into the depths of hell in the process. He would spend the rest of his life praying to be forgiven for stealing God's most cherished creature from his own kin.

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Tag list:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@notyour-valentine

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@the-fangirl-diaries

@helen06dreamer

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@dearshelby

@cillmequick

@cljordan-imperium

@pacifymebby

@peakyltd

@brummiereader

@multifandomwriter56

@runnning-outof-time

@emotionalcadaver

#john shelby fanfic #john shelby imagine #john shelby x oc #john shelby #Heaven Shelby #zablife moodboard #Shark's 1K

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strayrockette · 2 years

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Gifts Turned Intimate

Prompt: The reader is a caretaker of John's kids. John decides he needs a reward for it.

Pairing: John Shelby x M!Reader

Requested: Yes by anon

John Shelby Masterlist

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

John watched with shock as all 7 of his children walked steadily in a line. No running. No tugging. No shoving or pushing. Walked. They were walking and they did so quietly. He'd have cracked a joke and teased his kids for being so calm if he wasn't afraid it would break the spell y/n had on them.

y/n had done something his wife couldn't. Maintain their children and keep them in line-literally and figuratively. He watched as one by one, they patiently waited their turn to step inside the bakery and retrieve a treat. He watched as they patiently held their treats in their containers and waited for y/n to give them an order. They waited. Patiently. Those aren't my kids. John had half a mind to claim that his kids were replaced with doubles. Because there was no way his children could ever be anything but patient, calm, and quiet.

"What are you starin' at?" Arthur interrupted with a croak.

John turned, pointing a finger in his kids direction, "Tell me somethin', are those, my kids?"

Arthur squinted at his brother, his head slowly turning to look where he was pointing. His lips curved, "I'll be damned."

He gave a haughty laugh, "They can actually be tamed"

Arthur slapped John's back. "Aren't you happy bastard?"

John nodded, his mouth parting as he laughed, "We got a new caretaker for them, the best one I've ever seen."

"You should give 'em a raise" Arthur joked lightly, "Or give 'em somethin' nice so they don't leave."

It may have started off as a joke but John took it seriously. It started off small, food ingredients because y/n loved food, their constant trips with the kids to eat out was evidence of that, not to mention their pension to take over the kitchens with the kids in tow helping to put together a meal or dessert.

The more John watched y/n with his kids the more amazed he became. Not to mention the very persistent need to want to see more of y/n.

But then it got bigger, a nice tie because the kids ruined his nicest tie, and John was obligated to replace it. Then it turned into a full fit for a better suit because a nice tie deserves a nice suit to match it. Y/n didn't think much of it at first because it seemed reasonable and it wouldn't have been the first time an employer felt obligated to replace a clothing item their kids destroyed or get him fitted for something better. Those who did were often embarrassed to have their children be seen out with someone of a lower status. So y/n would happily take advantage of some rich parents' embarrassment if it meant getting newer and better clothes.

But slowly, y/n began to notice that these gifts went beyond the normal obligation and embarrassment. At some point, physical material gifts turned into the barest hint of affection. A lingering handshake here, a pat on the head here, and very intense looks from a distance. Not so long after, John Shelby had started requesting personal time with y/n. A few minutes here turned into an hour at the Garrison and access to the finest cigars and whisky. Unusual but not unwelcome. Y/n had attributed it to John wanting to know how his kids were doing while over drinks.

Y/n watched John take a hit from his cigar, head tilting back as he released the smoke. "Mr. Shelby, not that I am ungrateful for your companionship, but is this really necessary?"

John paused, head turning to stare into y/n expressive eyes.

"Call me John."

Y/n sucked in a breath, and now we're on first-name basis?

Y/n pondered the harm in calling him by his name. Upon deciding that there wasn't much risk he nodded and continued, "Well, John. I don't think it is necessary for us to spend so much time together. I'm sure your wife-"

John let out a heavy laugh-filled sigh, "My wife, could care less about my presence"

At John's admission, y/n frowned, "That can't be right, I've seen the way-"

"You're brilliant with me kids but you're not great at picking up my signs are you?"

y/n scoffed, "I'm afraid I don-"

"Yes, you do."

John was certain y/n understood what he was getting at. He may have had to be subtle and discrete to avoid getting hanged but John would be damned if he didn't get the message across.

Y/n lips pulled into a thin line, "No-"

"Look me in the eye when you speak."

y/n struggled to meet John's gaze, "Mr. Shelb-"

"Me names John, use it."

John's lips curved into a smirk as a soft blush ghosted over y/n's cheeks. His e/c glared at him, "I'd appreciate it if you stopped interrupting me...John"

John pursed his lip and pretended to think, "I'll stop interrupting you when you stop denying your feelings."

"I'm no-"

John took out a card and placed it in front of y/n, "I'll give you three days to decide, on the third day meet me here at this address."

Y/n rolled his eyes and picked up the card, "And what will I get if I go?"

John slid out of the booth, his slender fingers fixing up his suit, "A chance to explore without fear, of course."

His parting gift to y/n was a cheeky grin and a wink. Y/n pondered if it would be a good idea to explore John Shelby. He had three days to decide but he wasn't sure he needed that long to come to a decision.

Taglist:

@watercolorskyy

#John shelby x m!reader #peaky blinder imagine #male x male reader #john shelby imagine #john shelby x you #john shelby x oc #peaky fucking blinders #arthur shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders

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randomshipping101 · 1 month

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I'm looking for a Wattpad story, but it may be posted somewhere else, about John Shelby from the Peaky Blinders x Female Oc.

Description:

John Shelby Marries a girl from an Italian family and her mother is obsessed with her getting married. Before they got married, they slept together at a party, and the girl ended up pregnant. She’s spoiled and renovates the whole house, but takes good care of the children.

The title or summary may have the word princess.

Please help me find it and if anyone does please let me know!

#john shelby #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #polly gray #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #female original character #wattpad #fanfic #lost story #john shelby x oc

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calummss · 2 years

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Lilac And Lilacs | John Shelby

masterlist

summary: thomas wants john to marry esme lee to finally put an end to the shelby-lee family war. john’s heart however belongs to francesca wellington, the barmaid at the garrison who finds john’s romantic talk charming but is oblivious to his intentions with her

pairing: fem! oc x john shelby

words: 2.2k

a/n: john is more romantic in this fic than canon, still i find it to be somewhat believable. my choice of words for john are more proper but nonetheless believable in my eyes if john really tried to impress a girl. even if you aren’t a fan of oc fanfics i promise y’all will love this

The door to the Garrison flew open with a loud bang, eyes of the customers already enjoying their pints fixated on John Shelby as his heavy footsteps weighted the old wooden floor of the pub. His gaze met the emerald eyes of Francesca Wellington, who gave him a defeated look; a reminder to leave the building unharmed at his expense.

‘Sorry, darling, old habits.’ His soft tone rang bells inside her head. A light blooming in the pit of her stomach as John sat down at the counter and grinned, his pearly white teeth nothing but inviting.

‘Old habits still have an urge for whiskey?’ Francesca returned the smile, her eyes reflecting the sunlight only he seemed to take notice of.

‘They do.’ John lifted his cap off his head and set it aside, the rough and violent part of him too.

Harsh walls let down that were only ever meant for her. Francesca was the only one that John ever allowed himself to be more relaxed with. More calm and less tough. A yin-yang relationship that turned heads even inside of the room, though it was no secret that the two of them were close.

‘Coming right up, Mr. Shelby.’ Her cheery voice echoed deep into his mind, the colour yellow coming to mind. Just like the sun.

‘I told you to call me John on more than one occasion, Frankie.’

‘I know,’ Francesca briefly turned around to grab a bottle of whiskey that was standing on display. ‘But it feels so informal, you know…you being a Peaky Blinder especially a founder.’ The gradual high tone that made her statement sound more like a question made him chuckle.

‘We are friends, are we not?’ John’s fingertips grazed the rim of the glass.

‘Depends how you define friends, John.’ She raised an amused eyebrow, annunciating his name with a grin, her hair the colour of wheat and sunshine more beautiful than John had remembered.

‘I believe that friends always listen to what the other has to say.’

‘I’m a barmaid, that is quite literally my job.’ Francesca placed an ashtray next to the glass. ‘To listen to old men wail about their wives and children, how they regret the life they chose and how everything is so awful, but that I am the highlight of their day…though I believe they’re talking about the bottle of whiskey more than me.’ Her giggle warmed his heart on the cold November morning.

‘Why wouldn’t you be the highlight of their day?’ John leaned forward, his breath so close she could feel it on her neck as he removed a piece of dust that was sitting on top of her hair.

Collecting herself, Francesca let out a small cough. ‘I’m a barmaid walking around in filth. Dirt all over myself, messy hair,’

‘You’re still gorgeous to me…’ The seriousness in John’s tone and face let a light blush warm the cheeks of Francesca, her fingers rubbing against each other under the counter that was the only thing separating their bodies.

Francesca’s mind wandered to Thomas Shelby. John’s older brother and the head of the Peaky Blinders. If he set something in motion then it would happen. No one dared crossing him. Why John ignored his brother’s orders was beyond what she could imagine.

‘John,’ she coughed, shaking her head at the same time. ‘You can’t say that,’ her eyes scanned to see if anyone was listening in. ‘I can’t be found being courted by one of Small Heath’s most eligible bachelors. It’s not proper for me or you.’

‘I never intend to marry Esme.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t love her.’

‘Marriage is about convenience, John.’ Francesca said, her mind forced back to reality when she found herself thinking of the life she could lead with him if the circumstances were aligned with their fate.

‘Not in my eyes.’ He downed the rest of the amber gold liquid that burned his throat. ‘I want to marry for love. For a partner that matches my half…not too perfectly though because that would feel too artificial.’

‘Such a romantic at heart.’ She poked at him, his love hidden behind his eyes as clear as the summer sky the day he first saw her.

‘You have no idea, Frankie.’

For a short moment it was quiet. Cars driving past the Garrison, the sound of clanking metal, and worried mothers running after their children. John’s eyes were on Francesca the entire time she had turned her back to him, trying to gather a moment of clarity, hidden by the cleaning of various glasses that had piled up beside the sink.

‘I want to be with you, Frankie.’ His soft tone had once more invaded all her senses.

‘John, I— I don’t think you would want to be with me.’ She turned around.

‘You’re everything that I want.’

‘And what do I have?’ Her hands slammed onto the counter. Her face was pained with all of the confessions he had made the past minutes, yet she struggled to be angry at him.

John leaned forward, his pink lips pulled into a smirk as his breath met her rosy cheeks. ‘My name written all over you.’

Francesca pulled away hastily, head turning in every direction to make sure no one had heard the thing he had said. ‘John!’ She half yelled before lowering her voice, ‘You’re making me blush.’

‘I like seeing you red because of me. Makes my ego a little bit bigger than it already is.’ And he was met with a firm slap on his upper arm.

‘I don’t think I’m built for the life you lead…All the violence? Not only would I constantly be worried about my safety but also yours.’

‘So you worry about me, huh?’

‘John.’

‘I would protect you from all violence.’ He reached out to firmly hold her soft hand that felt like it already belonged to him. ‘My hands carry the weight of blood and punches so that you can wear the finest jewellery in the world.’

Francesca’s head tilted to the side, her fingers brushing against his wrist.

‘I mean it.’

She retrieved her hand, ‘You’re flirting with me in a bar full of men that have nothing better to do than to listen and eye us up and down.’

‘I’m a Shelby. I can do whatever I want, and this lady,’ he turns around, all men staring at him. ‘Feels uncomfortable with all of you listening in so unless you want to keep your ears, you keep to your business and your business only. Have I made myself clear?’

Men muttered, turning around instantly and didn’t dare to turn their heads once more. John too turned back around again, his smile painted back on.

‘John has gone all soft.’ A voice said from the back, the smile quickly dropping off of John’s face as he turned around, grabbed his cap and stormed to the direction of the voice where he grabbed a fistful of the man’s collar bringing him to his knees.

John’s free hand took the cap, the blades close to the man’s face who was now panicking.

‘I have not gone soft.’ John breathed through his teeth. ‘I merely treat a woman how she should be. Now remember what I said about the ears of the men inside this building? Same goes for your lips and tongue. I hate to repeat myself, so leave this establishment before I ruin this new suit I just got. Hate to ruin such fine work with a man’s blood not worth it.’

The man stumbled, his friends following him outside of the door. The rest of the room stuck to their business as John had instructed them moments ago.

Francesca met John’s face with widened eyes.

‘Frankie, I would never let a scratch on your body. If I did it would be the day I’d stop existing.’ He cupped her cheeks with one hand, his thumb stroking her cheek.

‘How are you ever going to make sure that I don’t get hurt? That’s practically impossible. What if I fall into a river?’ She smiled, still stern.

‘Then I will bleed every river dry that flows on this earth to stop you from ever falling into one.’

John’s grip on Francesca’s cheek grew tighter as he slowly yet steadily pulled her closer, close enough to let him kiss her as he had imagined over a hundred times. Her lips melted into his. Engulfed by his desire to deepen the kiss and push himself against her then was physically possible but it was enough that for this moment he could feel her beyond her hand and cheek. Her lips as addictive as cocaine.

John dreaded pulling away from her but held her close. ‘I’m addicted to you.’

‘What,’ she breathed deeply, her mind still processing what had just happened.

‘Every time I’m away from you, my heart only wants to feel you. My eyes want to see you. My ears want to hear your voice that’s sweet like honey. My nose wants your smell, my skin your touch. My lips melting into yours until we both forget our names.’ He paused for a brief moment, his eyes holding hers. ‘I’m addicted to you, Francesca Wellington. My heart, body, and soul belong to you. Yours to love, yours to hate, simply and utterly yours. You don’t have to be mine but I will always be yours.’

Words.

Simply just words, but they had made Francesca forget everything and anything that wasn’t John. She forgot that he was to marry Esme despite what he wanted. She forgot that she wasn’t enough, that she couldn’t give him what he needed despite his every belief.

‘John,’ her breaths drew heavier, ‘I— I told you that this cannot happen.’ She pulled away, stumbling back and steadying herself against the back counter. ‘You are marrying Esme! You are setting me up to be the girl discarded by Shelby when I already work as a maid and had a daughter out of wedlock! I’m a whore and it wouldn’t do a Shelby good to be seen with a whore. With me.’

‘You have bewitched me.’ John’s hand shot towards Francesca’s wrist, her breath caught in her throat as her lips trembled, looking at the man she felt for but could not be able to feel anymore. ‘On days I do not see you, even the warmth of the sun does not make the coldness of your absence any more bearable. The flowers hang as the dry soil does not give them what they need to survive. My heart feels an ever pit of loneliness when you are not around me. You are the sun my heart, mind, soul orbit around. They can only be complete if you are my center. Without you nothing makes sense.’

Francesca’s tears had stained her lilac dress, the colour now a deeper purple. A growing pain in her chest that made it hard to breathe. Her hands felt weighted and felt the urge to drop down to the wooden floor but she fought back, her eyes not ready to part from John’s face that has never looked the way it did at this present moment.

‘If I marry Esme, every waking moment until I close my eyes I will long for you. For your touch, your smell, your laugh, my heart clenches at the thought of a future without you. Every day I pass the lilacs that are planted in front of the flower shop and every day I fight the urge to not buy you every lilac I see because the colour reminds me of the ribbon in your hair. I don’t care what Tommy has planned for me because if you are not in his plans, there is no reason for me to continue breathing as I do now.’

‘John, I—‘

‘If you do not say that you feel the same way about me, it is better to not say anything at all. The pain would still be great but I couldn’t stomach it if you would speak the words that would break my heart.’

The urge to kiss him felt tiresome as Francesca fought every nerve in her body, blood pulsing through her veins, trying not to give in. But what happens if you leave a cheese trap for a mouse? They take it, no matter how often they do it. They take the risk.

Francesca pulled John in for a kiss. Her hands on either side of his head as John leaned over even further to taste the sweetness of the woman he had longed for.

‘Yes.’ Francesca breathed out heavily, her chest rising and falling.

‘Yes what?’

‘I’ll be with you.’

‘You will?’ John’s eyes lit up brighter than the light that shone above them.

Francesca nodded, her lips curling into a warming smile.

John pulled her in for another kiss, this time savouring her taste that he would taste and cherish for the rest of his life.

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omgkatherine01 · 1 year

Text

Peaky Blinders - Masterlist

Back to main masterlist

Tommy Shelby

Series

Fallen Angel

One-shots

-nothing yet-

Arthur Shelby

Series

-nothing yet-

One-shots

-nothing yet-

John Shelby

Series

-nothing yet-

One-shots

-nothing yet-

Finn Shelby

Series

-nothing yet-

One-shots

-nothing yet-

Ada Shelby

Series

-nothing yet-

One-shots

-nothing yet-

Grace Burgess

Series

-nothing yet-

One-shots

-nothing yet-

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mxpseudonym · 2 years

Text

Explain it to me like I'm stupid

Alt title; 17 Months for a Peach

Pairing: John Shelby x male!OC (or characterized reader)

Summary: John’s proposal gets shot down in a meeting, and his book smart crush is there to cheer him up. John uses this moment to make a move. It’s giving himbo x nerd vibes a little bit.

Length: 2986

Warnings: Sex happens, also the use of "idiot" but affectionately

A/N: I know I closed this blog, but I’ve been feeling kinda down lately then found this when I was cleaning out my fanfic database (I should show you all how I organize my fics one day lol) and it made me happy to finish and share. So here we are.

Evan adjusted his glasses and watched John talk in the meeting. The youngest Shelby was hot-headed, and at his worst, he was clueless about how things worked. Life seemed to happen to him in many ways, but he certainly had charisma.

Evan looked at him with a glint in his eyes. What an absolute idiot. Of course, Tommy wasn’t going to go with his idea that was sure to start an unnecessary war amongst the Small Health rabble-rousers. But boy, did this kid have heart. He showed up fully and earnestly for his family, country, and city. He couldn't even last in London; he was so used to the Romani lifestyle.

He was completely different from Evan, who, with his glasses and correct to the decimal ledger, was used to a tidy upbringing with a mother who was more into the motions of catholicism than the God behind it and a father who was, in a word, docile. John and Arthur had teased him for his bowties and suits and how he'd never gotten into a fight. John had protected him in a few bar fights. That was a good word for him—a protector.

The meeting was over, and everyone dispersed. Evan's eyes followed John, who kept a smiling face but let it waver when he snuck off into the halls of Arrow House. It took a moment for Evan to be able to follow. The dinner party continued, and he took a glass and a bottle of champagne to look for John. Surprisingly, he found him in the library looking at all the books Evan knew Tommy had never read.

"Is John Shelby actually reading during a party?" Evan asked out loud, closing the door behind him as John turned with a book in his hand.

"Got lost, didn't I? Told Tommy we need a bloody map in this place." John grumbled before tossing the book on a settee. "What've you got there?"

"I knew you'd probably like this when I found you."

"Savior status."

"Amen. One glass, though,"

"We can share," John said with a shrug, completely unaware. Evan smirked and handed him the tools. He picked up the book John had thrown down and huffed when he saw it.

"Economics? What are you doing reading about economics?"

"Oi, don't tease. Tried to ask Pol why my idea wouldn't work. She got mad at me for asking too many questions again.”

"The key is not to lose sight of the forest for the trees."

John gulped down his first drink and started another. “Whaddya mean?”

“On the surface, taking over the new casino and nightclub in Small Heath makes sense, even if it means expanding our territory by any means necessary. More money, right?”

“Exactly.”

“But, the Riley Gang is in deep debt to us. If we wait and see how well those spots will do, which they are expected to do well, as you mentioned, we can approach them later, and they’ll be persuaded to funnel their money to us with interest. Meanwhile, we don’t have to pay for manpower or maintenance. No damages or insurance either.”

“And we can keep expanding to London,” John concluded.

“Exactly.”

“Why’s it gotta be so complicated? We’re the Peaky fucking Blinders. We should just get what we want when we want it,” he complained, making Evan laugh.

“I can’t say you’re wrong about that. It’s what we’re after. Tommy’s got his vision, but the rest of us lowly dogs will live and die right here in Small Heath. Would be nice to have some perks if that’s the case,” Evan agreed as he filled the glass flute with bubbly. John watched intently as he sipped. “What?”

“Thanks for explaining that without me feeling stupid.”

“You’ve got the spirit,” Evan told him before ruffling his hair. John smirked softly, then began leaning in. Evan tilted his head in confusion, which John took as an invitation to cup his neck and go for it. It being the one thing Evan never thought would happen in all 30 years of his life.

He was pretty sure John Shelby was the only one who could make a risky first kiss feel coy and smug at the same time. The kiss was teasing and slow, and John pulled his bottom lip between his teeth before they parted.

“Fuck,” John groaned, the sound burning straight to Evan’s lower belly. “That was bad, right? Shouldn’t be acting on my wet dreams like that, not with our resident smart ass.”

John chuckled as Evan blinked at him. He could hardly process the groan, the flirting, the admission of the wet dream, and the cheeky insult in one go. Turning, he took a swig from the champagne bottle before pointing at John.

“Explain yourself.”

“Right now? Just when things are getting good?” John looked at him, surprised. “Mate, you’ve got to learn good timing. I might not know numbers and cents, but I know wanting eyes like nothin’ else. On the other hand, you don’t know shit and-” John stood, making his way to him and taking the bottle, having a drink of his own. “Have kept me waiting for 17 fucking months.”

“17?!” Evan choked on the number. “You didn’t run out of patience?”

“Almost did. But you started swimming with us last summer, and it was the death of me.”

“Is that all you think about?”

“Are you asking if you are all I think about? Or if seeing more of what those swimsuits were hiding is all I think about? Real prick to not skinny dip like the rest of us, by the way,” John grumbled. Evan nodded, then took two gulps of the champagne.

“So you’re saying,”

“How can you think when you’re this hard?” John asked curiously. Evan became ruefully aware that he was swelling in his trousers only when John’s hand pressed on the front of him. His eyes looked down at his fondling hand, then to the front of John’s trousers that were nearing a similar state.

“Nothing cohesive is really happening up here,” Evan admitted, pointing to his head.

“Then, can I kiss you while you think of your next interrogation question?” John asked. Evan could only nod.

Thoughts flew in and out of the running for the most cohesive sentence as Evan’s mind swirled. He had several questions, including ‘why now?’ and ‘are you sure?’ but John’s hands had untucked his shirt and roamed his skin, all while the Shelby shamelessly whispered the most salacious things.

“You’re just as soft as I thought, or more probably,” John murmured. Evan groaned, letting his head fall back while John pressed his thigh between Evan’s legs and against his hardening self. He hated that he subtly rutted against it as they kissed but hated even more that John pressed against his thigh without hesitation, making them both even hotter.

“I don’t know a lot about this, but I learned a thing or two in France. I think you should receive,” John muttered, never changing tone. He was so nonchalant Evan nearly missed it.

“What are you saying right now?”

“Huh? That you should take my dick?” John leaned away just a bit to speak clearly. Evan felt the heat rush straight to his face to even come from his ears like steam from the ears of a cartoon character.

“Did you say you learned in France?” He asked though John was moving already.

“Just a couple of things over a few times,” he rushed through the small talk as his own cheeks blushed.

“Teach me then. Explain it without making me feel stupid, please?” Evan asked, and John groaned.

“Stop. You’re making my dick harder when you ask like that.”

“Romance is your strong suit.”

Evan was a liar. Well, not entirely, but a little. He wasn’t asking John to tell him how two men had sex, per se; he just wanted to know what John knew. Because, in truth, Evan’s stint in France wasn’t just helpful; it found him with a few close friends who knew where others like them convened. Some bars, restaurants on certain days, and parks at night were all common meetings for men. And while he did pine for John, Evan had also had his fair share of romps.

“-and spit is the worst. Use oil or the medical lubricant if you can,” John concluded thoughtfully. He wasted no time leaning in and connecting his lips to Evan’s shoulder. The explanation was twice as long, at least for all the times John’s eyes couldn’t leave his lips, and he’d kiss him.

“I can’t believe you held on to that information for such a long time. Can you wait a little longer?” Evan asked.

“Because you need to think?” John asked, suddenly leaning back.

“Because we’re in the middle of a dinner party.”

It was John’s turn to blink before laughing. Evan could only chuckle. The idiot had definitely forgotten.

“Like a peach,”

“Oh god, stop saying that,”* Evan whined.

In the confines of his apartment, far enough away from Watery Lane to be a haven, Evan writhed under John’s touch. An arm slung over his eyes while John kneeled between his legs, making them wrap around his waist. In the meantime, he was being too gentle about pressing into Evan’s freshly cleaned hole.

The oil would have been enough, and Evan expected to deal with the consequences of John’s recklessness later. Actually, he thought this would never happen once the champagne wore off, but John showed up at his door with flowers on a Saturday morning they agreed on two weeks later, and here they were.

John was so tender with him that it almost made Evan mad. He was expecting the lug to toss him around, not make him dizzy, and from kisses and sweet nothings, coaxing him out of his clothes and onto the bed.

Fingers dipped in oil stroked his cock first, and John had no hesitation in rubbing their cocks together while telling him this was just like a dream he had. Before Evan could tell him he was insane, John told him he needed to be inside him while groaning into his neck.

John circled his tight hole, with his thumb, but selected his right pointer finger as the designated one for the job. Evan thought about the skill the man possessed. To put men all over the country in their place, tossing explosives in politicians houses, roughing people up left and right. And now this. Those rough hands flexed and prodded until Evan could no longer stand being seen so openly. John slid his finger into him with some ease.

“Oh? Have you been doing this on your own. You took me so easily,” he said like nothing.

“How can you say that with,” Evan started, ripping his arm away from his face, only to see John red and half covering his own face. John gave him the most boyish smile that nearly sent him into cardiac arrest, but instead made them both chuckle. “It feels good.”

“Yeah? You’re soft here, like a peach.”

And he continued with that reference, more surprised that it held up when he drizzled more oil and put in one extra finger then another. Evan couldn’t catch two full breaths consecutively. His cock twitched and leaked over his lower belly, but John refused to touch him beyond squeezing his thigh and sliding into him to the knuckles, then to the hilt, then pressing in until Evan gasped. It was finding the precious spot within him that fucked it all up.

“Oh, here?” John asked when Evan’s back arched and he called for him and the heavens. “I’ll remember that for later.”

“John, just fuck me,” Evan pleaded. “You can’t just say that and expect me to not be like this.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” John chuckled.

The bed shifted, sheets wrinkling and pillows adjusting. The morning sun hit perfectly on Johns naked form as he ran a hand through his hair before grabbing his cock. Evan watched it glisten with a thick coating of oil before it pushed against him.

For a moment he thought he was in trouble. His eyes rolled back. He couldn’t see straight, and he felt like he was leaving his body. His voice trembled as John’s pelvis pressed against his thighs, filling him to the hilt, “I’m gonna cum.”

True to his word, he spurted across his stomach while John groaned.

“Evan, you’re so lewd right now,” John breathed, his hand running up his side. He leaned down and ran his tongue over a small smattering of the milky substance, ignoring Evan telling him not to. John licked his stomach then up to his nipples before capturing his lips. “Your punishment for cumming at the start is that I get to fuck you as much as I want, alright?”

John was making him hold his knees up before he could agree to the binding vow. But the feeling of John’s cock stretching him and sliding against that spot in him would have made him do it. The strokes were exploratory, accompanied by moans and praises for Evan fitting him like a glove. He sped up, smacking against him after he adjusted. Evan could only take him in.

“Fucking hell, you’re handsome. Shit,” Evan groaned. John grinned then leaned down, the position putting him deeper as he helped press Evan’s legs back as he did it.

“You’re literally the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, you know how that makes me feel?” John asked. He paused while Evan shivered at the new position. “Luckiest fucking man.”

“You’re a square,” Evan moaned back. John’s rolling hips against him was enough payback, and he happily waved a white flag that left their foreheads pressed together and fingers interlaced. Evan couldn’t help joining his lover in being sappy though he’d never admit it. He gasped against the stubble on John’s jaw, “I’m so happy it’s you.”

John ripped himself away with a groan and quickly sat back, hand shooting to hold the base of his cock. “Fuck, I almost came.”

Evan huffed and sat up half way, wiping the sweat from his temple before caressing John’s waist, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. He watched the intense furrowing oh his brow, eyes clenched and teeth biting mercilessly at his bottom lip. Evan chuckled and laid back, rolling onto his stomach, glad that he was sending out laundry soon.

“I’m so empty now,” he sighed.

“Shut it,” John snipped. Evan simply raised a thigh and reached a hand between his legs. His fingers stroked his cock gently, massaged his balls, then found his tender entrance. He was aching, pulsing, and John was holding out? Bastard.

“I don’t think it’ll feel the same,” Evan groaned as he began prodding his ass.

“I just wanted a second, christ,” John laughed. He smacked away Evan’s fingers, and Evan happily shifted onto his knees, happy his fussing worked.

“You said you’d fuck me as much as you wanted, so I just want to take my punishment,” Evan told him over his shoulder. John tsked him while adding more oil to himself.

“You’re impossible.” Whether or not this was true didn’t stop John from sinking in at the new angle, deft fingers sinking into the plush of Evan’s hips to pull him back. The sound of squelching slickness filled the room with their pants and groans. With a squeeze to the ass, John praised him, “You’re sucking me in, love, well done.”

His hand slid to the natural line in his back and pushed Evan’s chest to the sheets to drive into him at a deeper angle. The strangled gasp he let out was one he’d make John take to his grave, but the depth of his cock was worth it.

“Never, stop, ugh god don’t stop,” he begged.

“As if I would, you’re leaking all over yourself and your ass is as soft as I thought,” John explained, squeezing him again. A shameless man. Evan would think of a comeback when he wasn’t burying his face in the sheets, trembling as the head of John’s cock firmly pushed against his prostate with every firm thrust. “I knew I’d find it again. Shit, you’re so **good, I’m gonna,” John rambled for a moment, hips starting to stutter before he pulled out and Evan felt his seed paint itself on his back.

They sat in bliss for a moment before John laughed and hopped up. Evan ignored the teasing he received for not moving from his face down ass up position by the time John came back with a warm cloth. Even when they laid next to each other, cleansed of fluids and oil, Evan still reveled in how his body felt now. John made use of their closeness, kissing him and never letting his hands still against his skin. They settled beside each other as the sun warmed the room and lulled them into a daze. It wasn’t even noon - they had a whole day to enjoy. Evan’s eyes closed first, and he felt bruised lips brush his forehead.

“Next time I won’t be so nice since you made me wait so long.” John’s dozing voice didn’t make the promise any less exciting.

“I look forward to it.”

>> John Shelby Master List <<

>> Peaky Blinders Master List <<

#John Shelby #John Shelby Smut #John shelby imagine #John Shelby Fanfic #john shelby headcanon #Tbh the John Shelby tag is a fucking mess so if you actually see this you have good luck #John Shelby x reader #John Shelby x oc #John Shelby x male!oc #John Shelby x male reader #Queer John Shelby

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

Text

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Following your encounter with the Shelby family, you try to get accepted but you have no idea how. This is why Ada comes out with a good idea: organizing a tea party in the garden. You accept, hoping things will get better between you and Arthur's family... But it does not go as planned.

featuring John x Platonic!OCReader

Words: 4.3k

TW: Foul language but hey, that's about Peaky Blinders, witchcraft ??

Notes:

✞ This chapter is longer than what I attended to do, so unfortunately I could not follow the poll's result. Hence, here is a quieter chapter but nonetheless tinted with a bit of angst. Moreover, the three next chapters are going to be quite violent and intense so consider this the calm before the storm.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

Afficher davantage

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“I don’t like the kids being around her.”

“Come on Esme, she’s not going to eat ‘em eh.” Arthur brought the cup of tea to his mouth and drank it, its sweet flavor melting on his tongue. It was a necessary and momentary relief, which kept him from yelling at his sister-in-law for what she had just said about his sweetheart. She had not stopped making snarky remarks from the day he introduced you to the family. Somehow, it was not about hatred or personal resentment, but rather about fear: she was sincerely scared of you.

After meeting the Shelbys for the first time, you were left utterly confused and did not know what to do. That was when Ada’s idea popped up. She had helped you organize a small tea party in the garden of the house Arthur had brought for you, in order to have a cozy family gathering. Then, John grew fond of the idea. These two surely had adored you as soon as their eyes had fallen on your angelic face. Following the invitations you had sent, Esme and Polly agreed to come to the event even if they did not trust you. More superstitious than the rest of the family, they were genuinely anxious when you were nearby — but family was family, and they did it for Arthur. Concerning Michael and Finn, they were too busy playing tough boys in Small Heath to bother sipping on a cup of tea in a flower garden. And regarding Thomas… Of course, he would not come. His refusal had been quite obvious following your disastrous encounter with little King Shelby, even though he pretended to be far too busy with work to come. His manners were on point, at least when he was not insulting you and grabbing you by the throat. Admittedly, you had been disappointed in the boys’ lack of commitment but you did not let it show. People still came, you thought.

“What if she brings evil spirits upon them?” She insisted, her dark eyes staring at you as if you would kill her children if she dared to shift her eyes from you for one second. Annoyed with her disrespectful claim, Arthur rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly through his nose.

“Listen, girl,” He put back his cup on the table a bit more bluntly than he intended to, “if you keep saying dumb shits in my bloody house I’ll kick ya out. Heaven invited ya and y’all talk shit in her back tsk… Damn ungrateful women.”

Esme opened her mouth to say something but she closed it straight away for Polly had rested her hand on her arm to keep her from doing so. The last thing they needed was a quarrel. She finally sighed, admitting her defeat. Then, she went on observing you playing with her four children alongside her husband, John.

“At least she’s not filling your mind with stupid Christian things. “ Polly said, stirring her tea with a little silver spoon. She was observing the liquid with great attention, looking for any sign of poison or suspicious ingredient. Somehow, she feared you had served her some kind of magical potion. Witnessing this circus of a conversation, Ada closed her book and frowned.

“This is ridiculous. You should stop judging her because of stupid rumors. She’s no witch…

Heaven is a delightful woman, clever and polite. Far away from that bitch Linda.” She paused to look at each of the faces around the table, “And if she is, well… She might as well fly on a broom and turn people into frogs I would not mind. I’ve never seen Arthur that happy before, and that’s all that matters.” She argued, her voice filled with determination and her tone highlighted with her natural fury. The Shelby sister sure was a wild and entitled woman.

“Thanks, Ada,” Arthur looked at her with sincere gratitude. He was starting to get tired of the two women’s nonsense and constant judgmental behavior toward his lover. His steel blue eyes abandoned his guests and fell on your graceful body — not interested in anyone but you. Bewitched by the sight, Arthur’s traits relaxed as he observed you running behind Katie in an attempt to catch her, with your dolly face enlightened with a smile so beaming even the sun was green with envy. His heartbeat quickened in his ribcage as seconds passed — the more he stared at you, the more the world around him vanished: you had the gift of making him forget everything. Your wild ivory mane floated at the wind’s discretion, along with the overhanging fabric of the Greek-inspired white dress you were wearing. How he loved to see you covered with the beautiful dresses, fur coats, and jewels he kept buying for you — nothing was too precious nor expensive for his angel.

“You can’t catch me, Heaven!”

“You think so, Katie? I’m coming for you!”

Esme and John’s children had adored you from the minute you met. They seemed to have adopted you into the family, judging by their blooming smiles and their joyful laughter each time you would catch them in your arms. A sudden comforting wave of warmth overcame Arthur’s heart. Seeing you playing with kids definitely did something to him. He tried not to let it show, for you were younger than him and he did not want to put any pressure on your shoulders, but he had always wanted a family. For years he had seen his siblings being blessed with the joy of love and children, to the point he had wondered if his time would come or if he was deemed to live off prostitutes, drugs, and bland momentarily reliefs. Yet the more he watched you with children, the less he could keep domestic thoughts from flooding his brain. How deeply he wanted to put a ring around your finger to make you officially his, and fill your belly with a child. His child. But the truth was he still doubted you truly wanted him, his insecurities whispering to his ear that you’ll wake up one day and see the monster he was. He already could barely believe you wanted to see him every day. Let alone the surprise of you agreeing to live with him, by his side.

“Shit Arthur, it’s getting serious.” Ada teased, smiling behind her cup of tea at his brother’s blissed out expression, “She did cast a spell on you.”

“Oh fook off, Ada. Don’t say that, Polly and Esme are going to believe it.” And he was right, for the two women were now watching Ada with pure terror on their faces, which only made her burst into laughter.

John grabbed you by the wrist, gently forcing you to stop running. You turned around and pout, visibly unhappy of your poor performance.

“Gotcha, little Angel,” He said, one brow raised and his beautiful lips stretching in a wide, cunning smile from which a toothpick was hanging, “Following the rules, you’re excluded from the game.“

“That’s unfair. You cannot hide in a bush and bounce on me, John. This is cheating.” You retorted, pretending to be outraged, but the smirk etched on the corner of your charming lips left no doubt about your amusement.

“I’m a Shelby. Of course I cheat.”

“That’s such a lame excuse,” You said, your sentence punctuated by a thunder of complaints that rose when the kids noticed you had stopped chasing them. All the four Shelby children wished was to keep playing with you, but John wanted to take advantage of this moment to enjoy your company without the protective presence of Arthur towering over him, “And I think the whole team disagrees with your decision.” You added, shrugging, with a false innocent expression on your face, which gave you a bratty look more than anything else. Gosh, John thought, you were a hell of a woman…

“Oi herd, why don’t you play together for a while so that Dad and Heaven can talk eh?”

Another wave of protest, but the focus of the little crowd was soon diverted by a small white bird that had just landed on the handmade birdhouse near them. The children decided they did not want to play Tag Your It anymore, but rather chose to observe the bird from the closest spot as possible. So was kids’ ability to focus, as flickering and ephemeral as a moth. John freed your wrist as they moved away and winked at you. Then, he pulled a silvery cigarette case out of his pants pocket. He gave you one and proceeded to light it up politely. You leaned over his hands until the tip of your cigarette brushed the flame — John’s sky-blue eyes looked at you during the whole moment, his iris shining with a playful gleam. To be honest, he was probably the nicest Shelby of the family, Arthur not included. At least, he was always absolutely caring for you and would never forget to pull you in a bear hug each time you met. Hugs so tight, so comfy that you could almost feel the shattered piece of your heart brought back together. John Shelby had spent countless hours helping you move to your new house, refusing to let you carry heavy furniture and stuff. More than being helpful, he fancied the moments you both spent together. That was why he would sometimes keep you company and teach you some tricks with his personal deck of cards when Arthur was busy working for their boss-brother. In exchange, you would mend his torn shirts after a fight and offer him shelter whenever he and Esme had a heated argument.

“How’s going with Arthur?” He asked, his tongue playing with his toothpick. You let out a cloud of smoke from your juicy lips.

“This is going so well, I can’t believe it. Your brother is so soft, so caring… He’s an Angel.”

“Soft? Caring? Are we really talking about Arthur?” He chuckled, “I mean he used to throw Michael out of the window when he was just a kid.”

“Well, you were there to catch him though. Pretty sure no one did when Arthur would throw you out of that same window. You must have hit your head against the concrete more than once.” You raised a brow, your teeth digging into your cigarette as your smirk widened. Blown away by your quick wit, John shook his head.

“What the hell, I don’t know why Arthur calls you angel. You’re a fucking devil,” He said to tease you. Yet the soft traits of his baby face turned into a more serious expression, “So yer really happy with him? I’m asking because he loves you so much that he would not stand losing you. Hell, he talks about you every fucking minute!”

“Does he?” You said with a softer note in your voice before glancing at Arthur. Your aquamarine eyes met his, for he had not stopped staring at you. Blood rushed to your cheeks, “I’m truly blessed, John. Arthur is — he is unique you know? I can’t find words powerful enough in any language to describe my feelings for him. But trust me, I am a lucky woman. “

Domestic life with Arthur Shelby had a surprising taste of blissful paradise. Obviously, it had its ups and downs, for the path to healing was always a long and somehow troubled one, but you knew what you were stepping into the first time you met — his face was splattered with blood after all. You had been aware of the scorching fits of rage and his past troubles with addictions right from the start. He also told you about the nightmares that would wake him up at night, screaming and panting, and that time he cheated on Linda and cried doing so. Yet, he had promised you to do his best to tame his demons — and when he said “best” he did not lie. Whether covered in blood or not, he often came home right after work, wanting to spend his time with you rather than doing anything else. When he did not it was simply because he was drinking with his brothers. And even wasted, at the edge of the abyss he was so familiar with, he never touched another woman — No matter John’s behaviors and Tommy’s pressure. How could he when the fairest creature of this bloody world was waiting for him at home? Moreover, sex with you outperformed everything he had experienced before. Arthur knew that having you by his side was a miracle, and he was determined not to sabotage it. Because you were everything he needed to survive, and what he had craved all his bastard’s life. Sometimes he would wake up at night, afraid you had been just a dream, and when he would realize you really existed he would pull you in his arms and watch you sleep peacefully, his fingers caressing your porcelain skin until he dozed off. Yes, Arthur Shelby was the most loving and loyal man you ever had.

Maybe that was what made the moments he snapped even more terrifying. But you weren’t scared, for Arthur never laid a finger on you and would never do it. In fact, he was never mad at you, but rather at himself. Or at the rest of the world. But not you — how could he?

He was simply terrified of hurting you. Sometimes he touched you so lightly, afraid to break you… And when his spirits heated and he squeezed you a bit too fiercely, all you had to do was gently remind him to relax and his embrace would loosen.

“But tell me John. Are you really interested in Arthur’s well-being or is it because you’d miss me if I leave?” You joked, taking another puff of your cigarette and shifting your gaze to him. You expected a roast in return but all he gave you was a strange silence. Your smile slowly faded away at his pensive face, the oceans in his eyes lost in thought.

“Yeah,” He said, a bit embarrassed. John swallowed, then, after a brief moment of hesitation, he gently pressed one of his big soft hands on your shoulder in a tender sign of affection, “I’d miss you. I really like you Heaven. You’re good for Arthur. You know when he goes back home after work it’s because he really wants to. Because he misses you so deeply he physically aches. Plus, I really love spending time with you,” He rubbed his nose with the back of his free hand in a nervous reflex, his handsome eyes fleeing yours, “And I’m deeply sorry for my wife’s behavior.”

“Ah,” You waved the topic off, “That’s okay,”

“ Oi! That makes more room for me eh!” He blurted out, an irritating yet adorable playful grin plastered on his face.

“Oh Gosh, what an idiot you are!” You slapped him behind the head, which made him laugh even more, “you have such a punchable face!”

“That’s what my brothers always say, little angel. Find a better roast next time.”

“What do we always say, dumbass?” A hoarse voice asked. Two strong and large hands grabbed you by the waist. Arthur had left the women, who had a heated discussion about politics, for he grew already frustrated not to be with you. His familiar perfume made all your muscles relax as if your instinct linked his presence with undeniable safety — which was the case. To be true, Arthur was not only loving, he was clingy. Adorably clingy. From the day you met — to probably the day death do you part— he constantly felt a deep-rooted need to touch you. On the one hand, he wanted your attention, on the other, he could not get enough of your affection. You let out a soft and amused snort, and you raised one arm to slip your hand in his hair. You almost hear him purr at your touch, his lips against your ear.

“His face is punchable, don’t you think so?”

“Fook yes, it is! It really is.”

“Two against me?! Now who’s the one cheat—“ John could not finish his sentence for he was cut off by the children’s screams. The three of you rushed to the small pack as one to check what had just happened.

When you reached their level, you saw all the children encircling something, their heads down and their eyes looking at one specific spot somewhere in the grass.

“The hell’s wrong with ya kiddos? Ain’t no reason to scream like that!” Arthur complained, his gravel voice tainted with fading worries now that he realized all the kids were safe and sound.

“The bird! It’s the bird, uncle Arthur!” Cried a little boy.

“Dad, dad! What’s wrong with the bird?” Katie asked.

When you came closer, you realized that the children were circling the same bird that had landed on the birdhouse fifteen minutes ago. The poor creature was laying in a bed of green grass, as petrified as a statue. Its small beady eyes were glassy, utterly lifeless. It did not take more than one second for you to understand that it was probably dead.

“That bird’s bloody dead.” Arthur stated. Maybe tactfulness was not his best quality.

“What?! Is it?!” The children spoke as one. A terrified expression veiled their round faces at their uncle’s harsh words.

“Good job Arthur.” John replied, visibly annoyed by the situation.

A soft breeze made the bird’s pale feathers dance in front of your eyes. How come this creature, which was joyfully whistling not so long ago, had stopped living all of sudden? The futility of life would never cease to amaze you… The fact remains that you had to do something, whether it was for John’s children or for the animal itself. Without the slightest word, you kneeled in the grass. Its comforting caress on your skin sent a shiver down your spine and reminded you how you loved taking naps in the forest when you were a kid, back in France. You forced your mind to focus on your task and finally cupped the bird’s body in your cold hands.

“Don’t touch it, love.” Arthur told you. The gravel in his voice was coated with softness and care: he did not want you to catch a disease or something.

“It’s alright.” You answered, absentminded, before standing up on your feet. Your brows slightly furrowed as you observed the dead creature in your hands. There was something about dead birds — something in the way their small black eyes were always wide open as if they had frozen at the sight of Death’s face right before it struck them with its lethal kiss.

Arthur, as well as the rest of the Shelby family, looked at you in confusion. They did not comprehend what you wanted to do with the corpse. You took a quick glance at John’s children and offered them a soft smile, then you looked back at the bird, “You know,” you started, your voice sweet and enchanting, “my mom used to tell me that some birds only have one love during their life,” Your words stirred up curiosity among the young ones, whose faces turned from fear to vivid interest, “they can die from a broken heart. Just like some humans.”

“This is sad. I don’t want the bird to have a broken heart.” One little boy with feckless said.

“It’s true. That’s a sad fact. But … If you give it a bit of love and a lot of hope…” Pausing your sentence, you closed your eyes for one short moment and exhaled loudly. Doing so, you raised your arms with closed hands facing the clear blue sky, “Maybe you can repair what has been broken.” And as you concluded, your sweet words and soft voice hypnotizing your audience, you opened your hands: against all odds and natural laws, the white bird twitched and, all of sudden, flew away in panic as the witching hour struck. White feathers lazily spin to the ground, carried away by the wind and the melody of flapping wings. A peaceful grin grazed your full lips at such a magnificent sound, “See?” You finally said, reopening your Bambi lashes and turning towards the mesmerized kids that were now cheering. However, that dazzling smile of yours quickly faded away at the sight of Esme, Polly, and Ada’s bewildered faces — they had witnessed everything.

“What the bloody hell was that?” John’s voice was merely a whisper. You had resurrected a damn bird. In front of them. No trick, no ruse. You had brought a fucking bird back to fucking life.

You looked at Arthur with a tint of anxiety in your eyes, not understanding if you did something wrong, but all he did was stare at the bird’s silhouette up in the sky with his cold blue eyes.

“Fookin’ hell…”

He could not believe it either.

When Esme had grabbed her children, panic on her face, and left the house slamming the car’s door, you had felt utterly disappointed in yourself. Here we go, you thought, they are all going to hate me. And Arthur’s going to leave. You thought, still standing in the alley with your eyes fixed upon the horizon where she had disappeared. The horror with which she had looked at you was haunting you — were you that monstrous? You blinked and remembered you were not alone. John, Ada, Polly, and Arthur were still there, probably ready to flee too. Your heart ached at the thought, to the point you did not dare move for fear of facing them.

“Angel.” Arthur’s voice called with such a soft and delicate tone no one would have recognized it. You finally turned around slowly, jaw clenched and eyes looking at your feet.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Arthur.” That was all you could say, apologies falling from your quivering lips each time you would part then to speak.

“Hey. Stop that.” He said, a bit more strictly, yet he gently cupped your face with his two rough hands at the same time. The sensation of his warm skin against yours managed to bring back peace in your tormented soul.

“Don’t mind her — Yer fucking perfect. Yes, you are, and I don’t want ya to think you’re not.”

“I should not have done that. Maybe that wasn’t what you thought, maybe the bird was just playing dead and…”

“I love ya and I’m not gonna leave if that’s what yer scared of. That’s okay, love.” He said, pressing his forehead against yours in that so specific habit of his, “Just don't cry please, I hate to see you cry.” Lavishing you with sweetness, Arthur left little reassuring pecks on your lips for it was the only thing he could do to keep the tears away from your eyes.

How much he hated to see you in pain. It made him want to bend the skies and raise hell. Made him want to destroy everything that had hurt you.

Fortunately for him, your hard heart did not let you shred a single tear. You felt wounded and frustrated, simple as that.

“Don’t worry, Mon amour.” You finally say, taking a deep breath. You were about to give him a little smile, eyes lost in Arthur’s blue iris when Polly literally pushed him away from you with quite a surprising strength. She had snatched your man from your arms with such fierceness that you stood still, eyes wide open, unable to move.

“HELL, POL’! BLOODY FOOKIN’ FAMILY!” Now he was yelling — roaring like a wounded and enraged lion.

“Shut up Arthur!” She snapped back without looking at him, before grabbing your shoulders with her two frail hands. You were once again astounded by her strength now that she was holding you firmly.

At such a sight, Arthur’s protective instincts kicked in. He was about to place himself in front of you to face Polly Gray, within an inch of tackling his own Aunt, when John and Ada grasped each one of his arms to hold him back.

“You have brought it to life, haven’t you?” She questioned, her brows slightly furrowed and her brown eyes trying to probe the meanders of your soul. It was more than enough for you, who came to the edge of your patience. You exhaled slowly and swallowed.

“Why do you want to know? Gonna hang me high? Gonna burn me?!”

“DON’T TOUCH HER!” Arthur roared in the background.

“You did it!” She blurted out.

You did not reply, rather leaving her to draw her own conclusions.

“You did it.” She repeated with a surprisingly softer voice.

And everything changed.

Her face. The spark in her eyes. Her whole attitude. Polly’s hands loosened their grip but remain on your shoulders. The coldness of her face melted in a brief proud smile, whose rarity rendered it even more inestimable. Polly’s mouth opened to say something but it took a little while, for she was still trying to find the right words. And when she did, she said something to you in Romani. Something you could not understand, even though the tone of this unknown language sounded beautifully in your ears. The meaning behind her words remained a mystery — all you knew was that what she said had surprised Arthur and John, who were both now looking at their Aunt with lips slightly opened. Confused, your gaze shifted to Ada — and contrary to her brothers, a magnificent smile was adorning her face.

Polly gave your shoulders a last gentle squeeze before releasing you from her embrace and pointing Arthur out.

“You better keep this one.” She simply stated, then she headed back to the garden.

You blinked, still utterly confused by Polly’s behavior, “what did she say?” You turned to the three Shelby siblings but especially asked Arthur. However, he struggled to produce a proper answer. He opened his mouth but Ada cut him off right before he could speak.

“Miracle.” She stated.

“She said you’re a miracle.”

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alones but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.

Tagging those who might be interested: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid @shelbyssins (tagging u honey because it’s bby Arthur)

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crowwritesaway · 5 months

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Masterlist Series

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House of the Dragon

daemon targaryen x female-reader pt. 1

Pt. 2 Pt.3 Pt. 4

Peaky Blinders

Thomas Shelby Best Friend Series Masterlist

Vikings

Ivar the Boneless Loyal Friend, Raven Masterlist

Ivar x Reader Series Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

Resident Evil

Albert Wesker x Female Reader Part 1

Yandere x Reader

Yandere Best Friend x reader Pt 1

Yandere Male Idol x Female Reader

Pt 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

Yandere General X Female Reader

Pt. 1

#john shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #ivar the boneless fanfic #ivar the boneless x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #albert wesker x reader #yandere male x reader

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themultifandomgal · 1 month

Note

Hey you! I just read that you take requests for peaky blinders and I’m wondering if you could maybe write something for John x reader? Like from s1 when he calls for a family meeting, that he wants to marry Lizzie. But reader is there maybe she works with Grace at the bar and has known John since they were young. She was in love with him but he married Martha, reader helped with their kids and her births and when his wife died she stayed around to help John. But he never thought she looked at him like anything more than a brother. But Polly knew and Tommy too, so when John asks them about Lizzie in front of you. They all tell him he’s blind to not see how reader loves him and his kids. She is really sad cause she thinks he’s going through with the wedding to Lizzie but when he gets home that night and she’s watching the kids he finally talks to her and asks her how she really feels. Like he would see her in such a loving way he couldn’t even consider she’d ever want a man like him. A real cute ending would be lovely

John Shelby- Tell Me The Truth Pt1

I just realised writing this how similar to my last request this one is so this time I’ve used actual dialogue from the season 1. Might make this one into a little series. Hope you enjoy.

Also trigger warnings- swearing, talking about vomit, violence, the usual peaky blinders stuff.

“Oh for fucks sake” YN groans as a man vomits at the bar “I gotta clean that up now, fucking twat go ‘ome to ya wife”

“Why d’ya think I’m ‘ere love” the chap wipes the vomit from his mouth making YN shudder a little. Rolling her eyes YN goes to get her mop and bucket while she leaves Freddie and Tommy to talk, although knowing it may end up in someone getting hurt

“Hi YN” Finn, the youngest Shelby sibling says smiling at her

“Hey Finn, why aren’t ya at school” the boy shrugs his shoulders

“Borin’”

“It may be borin’ but do ya wanna end up like ya brothers? an alcoholic, an other a deceiver, another married at 17 because he fucked some poor girl. Get yourself some juice then head back to school”

“Fine” the boy whines but does as he’s told, well kind off. YN doesn’t need to know that he’s took the juice and headed off home.

Walking back to the bar with a mop and bucket and some other cleaning supplies, she now sees Tommy and Freddie holding Danny up. Glass and chairs thrown everywhere

“Oh hell did I do it again?” he asks

“You did it again Danny”

“Miss YN I’m so sorry” Danny cries

“It’s ok Danny” YN says sympathising with him. She knows better than anyone how the war has changed so many people and families. She worked as a nurse to help the injured soldiers. Combat Fatigue, or shell shock is what they called it when men would return home, but they weren’t themselves. Unfortunately Danny, once a sweet caring man, now has moments where he forgets where he is. Just a noise could set him off. Knowing this YN knows that she shouldn’t be harsh on him. It’s not his fault

“Mr Shelby you have to do something about him”

“Damn right Harry. You pay the peaky blinders a lot of money for protection. Your the law around here now, aren’t ya Tommy?” Freddie say as Tommy takes a swig of whiskey

“And what would you suggest? Hm? Putting a bullet through his head? Kill an innocent man? Thought you would have done enough of that during the war”

“YN back to work” Harry says pointing at the girl

“Sorry ‘man’s business’ right? that’s a load of fucking bollocks and you know that”

“Harry get YN to drop the bill off at the betting shop. We’ll take care of this” Tommy says putting his cap back on and walking out of the bar

“I don’t know why you’re still involved with that lot” Harry mutters grabbing a broom. YN shrugs

“Grew up with John boy didn’t I. They’re family”

“Yet the man you love married another. I’d leave them before they break you” with that Harry gets to sweeping the floor. What Harry said hurt YN, not the part about them breaking her, no. They wouldn’t do that, the Shelby’s all treat YN as family. The part that hurt YN was that John married Martha, YN’s best friend. Tommy always said it was only because he got her pregnant and wanted to do the right thing, but YN always wondered if he hadn’t of got Martha pregnant would he have ever married her? Would’ve he and YN had a chance? Well it’s to late now. John married Martha and now is a widower with 4 children who YN had help Polly deliver.

Later that evening YN walks home, having to pass Johns house where she can hear the chaos that is bath and bed time. Going against her better judgement, YN finds her feet making their way to Johns house and knocking on the door. A disheveled John answers the door

“Oh thank god your here. I don’t know how Martha did this everyday” sighing YN gives him a weak smile entering his house

“Just get a glass of whiskey for me for when we’re done”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #john shelby #john shelby x wife #john shelby x y/n #john shelby x you #john shelby x oc #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine

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zablife · 2 years

Text

The Reunion

Shelby brothers x Scarlett (OC, Shelby sis)

Summary: When the Shelby brothers went to war, John’s twin sister, Scarlett, volunteered as a field nurse. The boys return home to find their sister hasn’t been seen. What kind of reunion will they have when she finally appears in Small Heath?

Author’s Note: This could act as a prequel to the Little Harlot series as I’ve used the same OC, Scarlett Shelby. Requested by @lovemissyhoneybee. Tysm for the idea! I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: mention of war, injury, mention of death, language, drinking

Scarlett balled her coat into a makeshift pillow, placing it against the window of the train and tried to rest for a moment. Her journey home was taking much longer than anticipated, but she still hadn’t slept. It probably wouldn’t have mattered where she was though. Her three years as a field nurse had left her unable to quiet her restless mind, ever ready as the soldiers she treated.

As her eyes closed for a brief moment, the sunlit shadows danced under her eyelids, turning from brown to gold to red in a dizzying pattern that made sleep impossible. It quickened her pulse as it reminded her of the disquiet she felt upon the arrival of the wounded, a blur of activity that one never grew accustomed to.

Scarlett recalled one of the worst evenings she’d seen in March 1916 when men were brought in by the truckloads, hastily dumped straight into clean beds in their blood stained uniforms and mud caked boots, shivering and writhing in pain. It had been two days before the operating room was empty. No one slept as they scrambled to attend to the wounded and she’d never felt more powerless to stop the seemingly unending suffering.

When she was finally allowed a bit of reprieve she’d fallen into her own bed still dressed, hands trembling from exhaustion and cold. However, the moment she closed her eyes, her mind tortured her with images of her own brothers laid in a similar place or worse. The nightmares of the soldiers she tended were quickly becoming her own, montages of barbed wire, bayonets and mustard gas.

She often found herself startled awake gasping for air, feeling as though she’d witnessed their death in her dreams. One in particular frightened her more than the rest. It was a vision of John walking through a battlefield of corpses through smoke and ash. He was looking for her, calling her name as a mortar shell whistled overhead. She couldn’t help the feeling she was inside his body, experiencing his emotions. Surveying the horrors all around, she felt his heart beating wildly against his rib cage and heard the deafening sound of blood whooshing in his ears. Fear gripped every part of her before a loud bang startled her awake.

She didn’t claim to have Polly’s gift so under these circumstances she assumed her visions were nothing more than her surrender to cowardice. She couldn’t fathom a life without any of her brothers, least of all John, who had been her constant companion and only real friend as a child. He had always been there to protect her from their father’s cruelty and their mother’s madness. What would life be like to return to a home as empty as her dreams?

——————————————————

“We’ve been back three months, Tommy, where the bloody hell is she?” John asked, fists shaking by his side. His twin sister was constantly on his mind and he had asked everyone about her since the day he’d arrived home, his patience growing thin at the lack of information. However, there was little to be done. Letters at the end of the war were sporadic at best until communication with Scarlett ceased altogether. When Tommy contacted the last hospital where Scarlett worked, there was no reply. The only thing they could do was wait for her return.

“John, we’ve done everything we can,” Tommy said leaning back at his desk. He was worried about their sister as well, but he was attempting to counter John’s behavior with calm, rational thinking. It was all he could do from driving himself mad with grief. “The trains have been been overcrowded with soldiers. I’m sure she’s just been delayed in Paris.”

“Yeah, and what if she hasn’t? What if…” Tommy slammed his hand against the desk unable to hear another word.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do about it, eh? I’ve work to do, John, and so do you!” he shouted.

“Is that your answer for everything? The bloody business and fucking money? Is that what you’ve become now, Tommy? You don’t give a fuck about Scarlett do you?” John said coming to stand over his brother menacingly, face red with anger and veins bulging from his temple.

Tommy stood pointing a finger in John’s face accusingly. “You were the one who put the idea into her head about coming with us. If she’s dead, you’ve no one to blame but yourself,” he spat hatefully. He pushed past his brother with a shove and stormed out of the office.

John stood blinking at the empty doorway, fighting back tears and wondering if Tommy had actually meant that. If Scarlett was dead, would the family blame him? It didn’t matter though. He would punish himself far worse than they ever could thinking of all the ways he could have deterred Scarlett from volunteering. If she had stayed, Polly would have watched after her and she would be here with them now. If only he hadn’t failed her.

——————————————————

The train pulled into the station with a jerk and Scarlett’s limp body was thrown forward, waking her with a jolt. She wasn’t sure when she had finally fallen asleep, but the realization that she’d let her attentiveness lapse made her uneasy and when she looked down, she found her hands shaking in her lap. She clutched them together tightly, pressing her nails into her palms, consumed by a feeling akin to standing at the cliff’s edge. The danger of the war had passed so when would these feelings end, she wondered?

Her eyes darted back and forth watching other passengers file past her chatting nonchalantly. A few glanced in her direction staring at the woman with wild eyes, but she quickly averted their gaze, unable to return their smiles which reeked of pity. As she heard the rowdy banter of a few soldiers she eavesdropped on their plans to go for a drink and she realized she needed something to steady her nerves before facing whatever news awaited her at home.

—————————————————————-

“Will this cover it?” Polly asked sounding thoroughly irritated.

“Last month's at least. What about this month?” The man asked in a haughty tone, reaching across the counter for the stack of notes laid in front of him.

“You’ll get what’s owed to you and you needn’t worry. He won’t be back,” she said, turning to leave.

The man chuckled darkly, “Your soldier’s Flanders Blues getting too expensive for ya?”

Polly whipped around and leaned over the bar to grab the man by the collar. Brandishing a small knife in her right hand she brought it to his throat as she hissed in his ear, “And what the fuck would you know about something like that, eh? A worthless piece of scum who didn’t even serve?” She sliced just below his ear as he screamed in pain. Wiping her knife methodically against his shirt front she added in a calm, measured voice, “If I hear you speak about my nephew again, I will come for you. You listen for my footsteps.” Then her heels pounded against the floorboards as she strode away, leaving him to duck into the back room in fear.

As she was leaving she noticed a young woman hunched in the corner and stopped short. The ring the girl wore was familiar. It was the same one she’d given Scarlett before she’d left for France. Polly’s heart caught in her chest as she considered the possibility of her niece being back home again. She gulped as she approached the seemingly unconscious person before her and took a seat. Polly reached out and gently moved the hair back from the woman’s face to reveal the familiar features of the girl she’d raised from childhood.

“Oh, my darling,” she whispered at the sight of her. Nudging her shoulders gently, Scarlett awoke and looked up to find her aunt. She sat up quickly and ran a hand over her face.

“Polly? What are you doing here?” she asked, feeling how dry her throat was all of a sudden. She grasped the whisky glass in front of her and drank.

“I could ask you the same. When did you get back?” Polly replied, trying to speak gently knowing how disoriented the boys had been when they returned.

“Today…a few hours, I think. I’ve lost track of the time,” Scarlett admitted as she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

“Let’s get you home now. You can have a warm bath and a proper meal. How does that sound?” Polly said, offering the comforts of home.

“I…I don’t know if I can just yet, Pol,” Scarlett admitted. “I’m not the same and I don’t know how much more I can take. Are the boys…?,” she stopped herself unable to ask the question that had been haunting her.

“They’re alive, love,” Polly said reaching over to give Scarlett’s hands a reassuring squeeze. “It’s true, none of you are the same, but you’ll adjust.”

———————————————————

The door opened slowly as Polly struggled to get Scarlett inside. She’d consumed more than she thought and her feet were no longer cooperating. “Come on, love, just a few more steps,” Polly said encouragingly. Finally they made their way to the sofa and Scarlett leaned back into the comfort of the soft cushions, taking a deep breath as she inhaled the scent of their home, memories rushing back to her one after another.

Hearing commotion in the kitchen Arthur entered from the betting shop and froze at the sight of his little sister. His face broke into a wide grin as he shouted, “God almighty, would you look at that!” He turned and yelled over his shoulder, “Tommy! John boy! Get in here!”

Scarlett stood carefully and walked to the table to support herself waiting for her brothers imminent arrival. She smiled to herself as she heard Tommy call out in his usual short-tempered manner, “What the fuck do you want now, Arthur?” He softened immediately when he saw his sister, growing quiet as he reached for her. She pulled him into a hug and he embraced her asking, “What took you so long, eh?”

“The train was delayed,” she lied, as he pulled back searching her eyes. He knew something was amiss, but didn’t have time to ask before John was walking in with tears in his eyes the moment he spotted her.

“Hiya, trouble!” he said looking at her a long minute before she stretched out her arms for a hug from the person she had missed most of all. He buried his nose in her hair and whispered, “I was so worried about you, Scarlett. Are you alright?” She hugged him tighter, fisting her hands in his shirt, not ever wanting to let go. His intuition told him she needed time to answer the question and privacy as well. Pulling back he asked, “Tommy I finished the count so…”

“Yeah, you stay with her,” Tommy agreed with a nod, knowing how close they had always been. “Good to have you home, Scarlett. We’ll talk tonight, yeah?” Tommy said lingering at the doorway before heading back to work. Scarlett nodded in return looking to Arthur.

Arthur moved closer for his own hug, ruffling her hair the way he had done when they were kids. “I’m proud of you, sister. Let’s go round to the pub an have a drink later to celebrate your homecoming, eh?”

Polly piped up from the kitchen. “Arthur, let Scarlett get some rest first?”

“Right, Pol. Another time!” He said clapping Scarlett on the back. Before returning to work he added quietly, "We've missed you round here," and Scarlett smiled at the sentimentality in his words.

Polly brought over a cup of tea and excused herself to ready the items for Scarlett’s bath. She gave John a knowing wink before leaving, understanding if anyone could get Scarlett to talk about her troubles, it would be him. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me, love,” she said giving Scarlett a pat on her shoulder.

“Thanks, Aunt Polly,” Scarlett managed before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

Once they were alone John and Scarlett stared at the fire together. Neither of them knew exactly where to begin. It had been so long since they’d had a conversation and they’d only managed to send a handful of letters in the years they’d been apart. It was like oiling a rusty hinge as they attempted to hold a conversation. Despite the ease they’d always had with one another in the past, John seemed quieter and more contemplative now. Perhaps he had matured though. Scarlett had noticed the war had that effect on boys.

In the end it was Scarlett who ventured the first query when she noticed the scar on the right side of John’s face near his chin. It was short, but deep. He’d obviously had stitches and while it had healed well, he would always have the mark as a grim reminder. Scarlett reached a hand out carefully to touch it asking, “Will you tell me what happened?”

“Mortar shell explosion. The shrapnel got my legs mostly, but this as well,” he said matter of factly, pointing to his chin. “Going to have a hard time finding a girl with this ugly mug, eh?” he joked. His remark earned a chuckle from Scarlett and his eyes twinkled at the sound of her laughter.

Her merriment soon died away as she remembered the recurring dream she had of him. “I was there with you, John. I mean, it felt as though I was. I had this dream so many nights, hearing the whistling and the bang of the mortar shell. I could feel your heartbeat,” she explained, eyes drifting off as she was transported back to the field hospital. Her recollection stopped there and he allowed her time to sift through her thoughts. The silence between them grew as he watched her retreat into her mind, seeming to detach from reality. It was a feeling John knew all too well. When she began to speak again, he listened patiently as she unburdened herself.

"Once I cared for a French soldier with a head wound. I told the chief nurse I didn’t speak a word of French, but she said he wouldn’t last the night and there wasn’t anyone else. I sat with him as he suffered. He kept saying the same thing over and over again. J′ai envie d'dormir encore.”

“What did you do for him?” John asked, rubbing a thumb over her hand.

“I didn’t know what to do so I sang to him in Romani…until he died,” Scarlett’s voice trailed off as she looked down at her hands. “When I finally asked someone in the village what it meant they said he wanted to sleep again. It’s what we all wanted—rest, an end…I don’t know.” Scarlett pulled her hand away and shook her head trying to dislodge the memory, but it was too late. “I couldn’t sleep at night after that thinking of you. The nightmares and the dread that you were…”

John pulled her into his shoulder as she cried. “That you were gone,” she finished, crying quietly into his jacket. He patted her back lightly to soothe the hiccuped sobs that escaped her lips. The last time she’d cried like this was when they were eight and their father had beaten her severely with his belt for spilling a bucket of ale. She hadn’t cried much since then, putting up a wall within herself only John seemed to be able to breach.

“I know. I think I had something similar. Me hands used to get so cold and they would shake. I swear I heard you call my name sometimes, Scarlett. But in a way I didn’t worry so long as I heard your voice because it gave me hope you were alive,” he said running a hand over her hair gently. He felt crazy saying these things aloud for the first time, but he knew now Scarlett had experienced it as well. Scarlett pulled away, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her dress.

“Are we going to be alright, John? Polly’s told me about the changes in Tommy and Arthur. I’m scared,” she said biting her lip to keep it from trembling. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to keep her brothers in line if they faltered. She could barely take care of herself at the moment.

“It might not seem like it now, but they’ll come round. Tommy’s taken over the business and he’s got ambition for it. Says he’s going to make us a lot of money so we never have to worry again.” John stopped and gave a chuckle at how naive it probably sounded to spout Tommy’s agenda in such a confident manner. However, Scarlett needed to hear that they had a plan for the future and he wanted her to feel secure even if he wasn’t sure how certain that future was.

They talked a bit longer by the fire until Scarlett had regained her composure. She eventually became so drowsy, she fell asleep with her head resting on John’s shoulder and he carried her to the sofa.

When Polly came downstairs John held a finger to his lips, pointing to the sofa. She took a blanket from the chair and draped it over her niece. Scarlett stirred in her sleep and mumbled something. Polly dropped to her knees to listen. “J′ai envie d'dormir encore.”

“What’s she saying?” Polly said with creased brow.

John turned, swallowing thickly. “She wants to sleep,” he said, hoping the nightmares weren’t returning. “It’s alright, Pol. I’ll sit with her,” he said pulling up a chair. They were finally reunited, but his vigil was just beginning.

----------------------------

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@runnning-outof-time

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy shelby fanfic #Tommy shelby imagine #John Shelby fanfic #John Shelby imagine #John Shelby x sister #John Shelby x OC #Tommy Shelby x sister #Tommy shelby x OC

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strayrockette · 2 years

Text

Your Baby (Modern John x f!reader)

Summary: John and Katie ignite something inside of her but she's too afraid to do anything about it. Pairing: John x F! reader Genre: Fluff (?) Trigger warning: None A/N: I wanted to make something less angsty. I tried to catch all my grammar mistakes but I'm sure some escaped my searching eyes o-o.

John Shelby Masterlist

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

I once proclaimed that I would never be a mother. Growing up in a dysfunctional home caring for 4 other children while also being a child had warped my view of adulthood. The glaring realization that adults have kids so kids can take care of kids. The thought alone pissed me off. But even as I grew older I also realized that adults were just kids with more responsibilities and that certainly ruined any and every perception I had about entering the real world.

Even now at the age of 26, I still felt more like a child than I did as an adult. That sorry statement was an ego bruiser. And yet, here I sit, in a shoddy bar, drink in hand and a growing longing to have the one thing I vehemently denied wanting.

The bar's patrons were slowly dissipating, and a quiet lull crept into its atmosphere. I'd never been to any bar beside this one, and I would never go to another because I quite liked this one.

Drunk old men minding their business and drunk old ladies trying to get the drunk old men into their beds. Strange. I thought it was the other way around.

My lips quirked as I watched one lady lean into an otherwise occupied man, Budweiser to his lips, and his eyes concentrated on whatever sports channel was playing. He seemed uninterested but by the way, his lips curved into a smile I assumed he liked what she was saying. It took another 3 minutes of her talking for him to decide to get up and leave the bar with her.

I went back to staring down at my drink and desperately trying to chase away thoughts of blue-eyed babies babbling in my arms. What time is it? I sighed and glanced around for the familiar clock on the wall, 1:30 am. Almost 2 am and nearing closing time. How much longer would I sit and stare at a drink I wouldn't even touch?

My skin prickled as a figure brushed against my right side. One hand settling on my lower back and the other sweeping in front of me to grab the glass of bourbon, "I'll never understand why you order this if you don't drink"

"The bartender stops serving drinks at 1 and you always get here by 1:30." I mused, "I order it for you, dummy."

His lips pursed at my statement and he turned away from me, "You don't have to"

I watched idly as he lifted the glass to his lips and downed the drink in one sip, "I know."

He'd complain multiple times about my tendency to visit the bar during the nights he would be overseeing it on behalf of his older brother. He'd complain that I didn't have to come on Friday nights and stay till 2 am. That I didn't have to keep him company with late-night talks and dinner. I wasn't obligated to do what I did. But I wanted to. Because without these weekly late-night meet-ups, I'd have to go back to my empty apartment and think about how I wasn't good enough for a man I had given-been prepared to give- everything to.

"You're thinking about him again." His voice tugged me away from my thoughts.

I watched as he assessed me with pale blue eyes. He seemed exhausted. He must have had a rough time dealing with whatever mess lay within the paperwork left behind by his brother. But no matter how exhausted he looked he still looked handsome.

I sighed, "I haven't thought about him for a while...I mean yes, in passing but lately I've been thinking about other things."

John nodded along with my words, his ears twitched and I wondered if he knew that it meant he was happy about something.

"I've got food prepared back home" I paused, "Do..You want to join me?"

"Have you known m to say no to food?" He questioned in mock disbelief.

"No, but it's always nice to ask." I retorted with a smile.

We left after making sure that Mari and Luke would be set to close down the bar. The way to my apartment was spent in silence, my thoughts once again drifting to blue-eyed babies. It seemed to be around him only made those thoughts worse.

It was nearing 3 am and it was almost time for him to leave to go back home. My hands ran through my hair, eyes staring at the clock.

"How's Katie?" I asked. I'd met Katie a couple of times over the past 5 months. She was a lovely little girl, aged 5. She had a bright smile and was smart as a whip.

He sighed, I'm sure there was a story behind that. "She's giving you trouble" I giggled knowingly. Katie had a way of getting under her father's skin. She nagged him more than anyone and she did it with an innocent look in her eyes and a sweet smile.

He laughed, "More than that, she's angry at me for whatever reason."

He re-rolled the sleeves of his button-up and leaned over to grab his drink of water, "Everything I do displeases her," he waved his hand into the air and mimicked her voice, "you're incompetent daddy, that's okay not everyone can be like uncle Tommy"

My eyes widened and I roared with laughter, "She did not say that!" I exclaimed.

He turned to look at me with a deadpan look, "She did. With a sweet smile at that."

He huffed, lips touching the glass before pulling it away again, "I don't know what she wants." He shook his head at his confession, "Last week she yelled at me because I came home too early. Can you imagine?" He paused, his eyes comically wide and annoyed, "being yelled at for being home too early."

He muttered to himself, "Almost afraid to go home, now." He took a sip from the glass and put it down, "Mans not safe in his own home."

I found myself doubling over and laughing. My stomach clenched and my breath ran out but I couldn't stop laughing. I could only imagine Katie wearing her little princess pajama dress and staring irritably at her father for being home early.

He leaned back onto the couch and huffed, "Yeah, go on then. Laugh at my predicament."

I shook my head, lifting my hand to stifle my mouth in hopes of stopping the laughter. "I'm sorry, it's just"

I coughed and giggled, "It's too funny," I sighed and shifted my legs underneath me, and asked thoughtfully, "What's she doing up at 2 am on a weekend?"

Weekends were the only nights John went home late into the morning. Polly or Ada would watch Katy on the weekends so he could take over the late shifts from Arthur, so Arthur could go home to his own wife and kids.

On weekdays he was usually done with work by the time she got off school so he could spend time with her. She never once complained about that, so I assumed she complained about him being home on time on the weekends.

"She was having a Harry Potter movie night with Ada and Charlie, I walked in all excited to join in and she turns to me with chocolate on her face and glares" He paused, his head shaking, "The little thing glared at me! As if she hadn't been the one to ask me to come home on weekends to join movie nights"

He plopped his head against the couch and closed his eyes, "She's sending me mixed signals, I'll tell yah."

I laughed and leaned in to run my hand through his hair and coed, "Poor Johnny, his own little girl wants nothing to do with him. What shall we do?"

The room went silent for a moment and the dim lighting of my living room added a thickness that wasn't present earlier. Or maybe it was the fact that I was unreasonably close to John. Close enough to see the way his eyes dilated when he opened them. Close enough to feel the heat of his skin mere inches from mine.

"I love your eyes" I breathlessly admitted. I almost didn't want to say it but I couldn't stop myself from letting the words escape.

That should have been all there was to it. Admit to how much I loved his eyes and pull away. That would be the safer option. But I found myself gravitating closer. His nose brushed against mine and I could feel his hands gently slithering over my hip and settling on my waist.

"You don't think about him?" He asked quietly. His eyes searched mine. Wanting, waiting. "No." I whispered, "Just you."

My heart exploded at my confession and my face heated. The last time I had really thought about my ex was months ago and that was only when I realized that I deserved more than what he had given me.

He hummed in response a smile slowly forming, "Good."

He tugged me closer till I was pressed into his lap and his arms were wrapped around me, holding me in place. And before I could overthink what was happening his lips were pressed into mine. His kisses were soft and firm. His hands roamed over my waist and back.

His touch left a trail of fire upon my skin and before I could be set aflame, I pulled away.

My heart raced as I blurted, "This isn't a one-time thing."

He nodded, "I was hoping it wouldn't be." His hands trailed over my leg in soothing circles.

Fingers playing with the collar of his shirt, I asked hesitantly, "What about Katie?"

"Katie loves you." I knew that. But I often worried that she didn't actually like me. What if she secretly hates me? What if she doesn-

"She really cares about you, you know. I've never seen her get attached to someone else as quickly as she did you."

My mouth parted and a soft 'oh' escaped. I hadn't known that. But then again I had tried really hard to make her feel comfortable with me. Which wasn't hard. She was a sweetheart underneath her shyness. Getting to know her had been a joy. It still is. It was also one of the many growing reasons for my secret longing.

I tried to think of any other concerns and my silence must have worried him because he asked, "Are you looking for an excuse to not be with me?"

There was a level of vulnerability in his voice I was not familiar with. Exasperation and love, yes. I've even heard him when he got angry at a soccer mom for calling him a babysitting dad. As if, the idea that he could be a businessman and a full-time loving father was out of the realm of possibility.

"No, I just." My words fell flat, "I-"

He sighed and lifted me off his lap, gently guiding me to the couch cushion,"I shouldn't have come."

He stood and began to fix his sleeve to put his suit jacket on, "You're clearly not over your ex and I shouldn't have held out hope."

"Wait, no-"

"And I understand that he hurt you but I'm not him." He ran his hand through his hair, "I've got me own problems to deal with and one of my biggest responsibilities is me daughter." His eyes bore into mine with sincerity, "Look her well-being comes first and I would never jeopardize her happiness and you make her happy. But every time I think we're getting somewhere you pull away and make up excuses and I'm tired of having to justify why I would never ruin what we could have for some quick fuck with a random."

He closed his eyes and breathed out, "I'll give you some space but I don't think we should see each other anymore."

My heart plummeted, "What no! Look, John, that's not-"

I stood and tried to reach for him but he pulled away and shook his head. His lips pursed and his eyes turned hard as if to steel himself from whatever I might say. He walked around me and towards the door. I watched with wide eyes as he got further and further from me.

If I didn't stop him, I was sure I'd never see him or Katie again. The thought alone pierced my heart.

"I want to have a baby with you!" I exclaimed, "I just didn't want to say anything and every time you touch or kiss me it gets harder to ignore"

Silence followed my outburst and I couldn't stop talking. "I always told myself that I would never be a mother and that alone only seemed to solidify when I realized my partner of six years had been cheating on me. I was so certain I would never want it..but then I met you and Katie and well, that idea kind of went out the window, and then I started to get worried because of Katie and I didn't want to make her feel like I was replacing her mom or replacing her and-"

My rant was cut off with a kiss. I stumbled backward due to the force with which he launched himself at me. His hands held onto my hips, pulling me in.

"I thought you were leaving?" I teased.

He trailed kisses down my neck, teeth gently nipping at my sin, "No, we've got a baby to make."

Taglist: @mysticalpandora @ultimatreality @lovecleastrange @watercolorskyy @rockerchick05 @lyarr24

#john shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #john shelby x you #john shelby x oc #john shelby one shot #ada thorne #arthur shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #daddy john #peaky fucking blinders

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