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thepeakyfckingblinders · 2 years

Text

Slightly edited ❤️

White Lies - part II || Thomas Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

↬ Part One ↫

Summary: White lies can lead to tragic outcomes.

Warnings: swearing, angst, a tiny hint of violence, May Carleton insert, slight smut

Author’s notes:

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

I’m sorry babes, for everything. Love you ♡

Also this is getting me on my knees, I've been through a terrible writer's block (I'm still dealing with it tbh) so I know this second part won't be as good as the first one, can't put into words how frustrating it is for me, wish I could do better, but apparently I just can't now. Hope you'll like it anyway.

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Your hands kept trembilng with nerves while you tried to stuff as many things as possible in the beige luggage Thomas had bought in Lambeth earlier that month, in view of his upcoming business trip to Brighton; or at least that was what he had fed you: new opportunities coming from international sea trades, something they couldn’t have missed, he said.

Well, if that was true, he wouldn’t have had much trouble in buying a new one.

All at once, a painful knot of mixed emotions dug into your venter, leading your teeth to pitylessly drown in your lower lip, in a desperate attempt to hold back tears; curled locks falling before your eyes with every abrupt movement you made in order to leave that house without coming across your fianceé. Yet, unfortunately, there was no way to avoid the compulsive thoughts haunting you. Ruthless flashes about your recent encounter at the Garrison flooded your sore mind, bringing along a wave of vivid images freshly framed by your brains, splitting your breath in a thousand little shards and corroding your trust with each passing second.

You could see him, holding her the way he did with you, placing his callous palms around her waist and letting his fingers viciously pierce her exposed skin only to bring her closer and closer, as if to erase the boundary between their bodies.

You could see his volluptuos lips, stroking the spot right beneath her jaw, whispering profane words against her fervent flesh in an obscene confession, waiting for her to redeem all of his sins with the inviting warmth of her thighs.

You could see his marble hips, diving in hers again and again, conducing an unmerciful assault; the sweetest battle to fight, one able to mend his intangible war wounds.

For a brief moment, the walls revolved around you, creating a pale vortix tainted by the bluish light filtering through the windows without any cloud to cross its path; night had fallen on Birmingham and that melancholic atmosphere just made everything harder as your watery irises run upon every corner of your bedroom, unintentionally trying to absorbe each detail of the safe heaven in which your love had flared and expired.

That was a burdensome decision to make, but you were well aware of how those things worked; you had seen it on your mother's flesh, you had seen hope sprout into her eyes every time your father came back home, hands holding his cap and face performing the most compelling expression of guilt. On a regular basis, he begged her to forgive his weakness, that's how he called it; still now you knew there was no weakness in what he did, he wanted to, he deliberatley chose to act that way. Every single time, he promised not to hurt her again, and every single time, she embreaced him, turning her other cheek, because it's what you do when you love someone, that's what she said while he prepared to slap her again; yet you knew now that affection should grow out of respect, that loving someone shouldn't leave you wretched, never. Thereby, your childhood had passed watching your father systematically break both his vows and your mother's heart, only sparing her for a few weeks, a few months when she was lucky; a miserable fate that you had sworn you wouldn't have shared.

Due to those acrimonious memories, your previous haste had now given way to a leaden attempt to say goodbye, as your feet stumbled towards Tommy’s beside-table until your fingertips were able to trace the dark groove gouged by his initials into the bright metal of his favourite cigarette-case, the one you’d given him, the one meant “for special occasions”, he said. Eyelids harshly shut because of the sharp hiss tearing up your ears, while you allowed yourserlf that single compromise, placing that relic in your bag as to preserve one last bond with him; and then you finally marched out of your own life.

Or at least you tried to.

Moments before your hand could reach for its knob, the door brusquely opened, leaving under your bewildered stare a panting Thomas with just his waistcoast and withe shirt on: sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the black bow he had worn now hanging untied around his creased collar. In a scant second, his blue orbs stroke into yours, scourging you with a wintry glare only to fall right after on the suitcase held in your right fist.

“You fucking packed your things, y/n?!” A deafening thud arose when the bag fell to the ground at the exact moment his hand slammed the door behind his shoulders with a violent blow, before running through his already messy hair; his ring shimmering in the dark together with his drizzly eyes now clutched to your face only, your feet taking a few step back when he slowly moved forward.

“You were leaving?” That atrocious question escaped his lips in a short breath and his brows took a painful fold in the process, causing a dull ache to grip your entrails at that sight.

“You were gonna leave me without a word?” Eventually, Tommy's coarse voice erupted from his scratched throat with all of its impetus, riverberating across the room and then into your eardrums so to let you gather each accent of blind sorrow and rage held through those words.

Anticipating every possible answer, Thomas took another stride in your direction, still that cautious attempt just forced you to retreat again, almost suffocated by his sole presence. Truth was that you couldn't trust yourself around that man. At times he felt like a plague corroding both your mind and body. He had sort of an arcane power enabling him to subjugate you in the sweetest way, had you let him; sometimes he was like a snake-charmer, sometimes you reckoned he was the snake himself.

“Stay away from me” Your unsteady voice finally came out, and it sounded as if it had been subdued for ages, yet his complete inability to comply with other’s will led him to neglect your first warning.

“Y/n, please-” Nevertheless, that mournful preach was soon estinguished by your harsh tone not leaving space to esitation anymore. “Don’t fucking touch me, Thomas”

Your hands slapped his arms now dangerously close to your silhouette, but soon his firm grasp enveloped your wirsts allowing him to reduce the distance between your bodies.

“I said stay away!” you pratctically screamed in his face and your head swayed, having your locks fall forward, as you struggled to wriggle out of that deadly grip.

“No, y/n-” His calm voice once again tried to keep you in place along with his callous hands, but you were far too overwhelmed to regain your control.

"Get the fuck off me! Get off, let me go!" Histerical peaks distorted your voice as you kept writheing against him like a wild animal held captive.

"Y/n, stop! Stop it, calm down... fucking breathe" Thomas raised his tone, submerging your cries and leading your bust closer to his own so that your forearms were now trapped in between your bodies and his fingers clenched around the sleeves of your dress. Suddenly, all of your forces seemed to vanish in the dark coldness filling the room, your muscles yelding against your will.

"Let go of me" At this point your rage gave way to resignation, escaping your lips in the form of a pleading whisper, echoing your previous demands.

"Just listen to me, y/n. You need to trust me" He spoke again and you could sense a condiscendent softness in those words. You knew him too well, you knew how his silver tongue always managed to violate people's mind with such ease, making them puppets in the hands of an expert string-puller. And you hated him for trying to do the same with you.

Your wrath started to emerge again, boiling in your veins until your palm violently connected with his face for the second time that night.

"Jesus Christ, woman, what the hell is wrong with you?" Thomas growled while stroking the sensible skin right under his left cheekbone, partially tilting his head away from you as his feet put a new distance between your figures.

"I don't care how much you say otherwise, you did this to me" Jolted words left your burning throat, garbled by the tears you were desperately trying to hold back. This time it was you to step closer, accusation drenching your every gesture.

"Bullshit! I love you and you know that" Tom’s index finger mandatorily pointed at your flushed face, his blue eyes thrusting open and inviting you to reckon his indisputable truth.

“How can you expect me to believe a single syllable coming out of your mouth now?" Your fierce gaze remained locked onto his algid irises, still, despite your efforts to hold back, a few salty drops slipped off your made up lashes, pouring the dorsum of your hand as you abruptly covered your lips in order to suffocate your sobs before speaking again.

"You lie for a living, Thomas Shelby, you craved an empire out of lying" Pointing at his chest, you took another step towards him, teeth clenched with frustration as you went on.

"And I was a deceived fool for even hoping that you could be different with me." Finally, you allowed your lungs to take a proper sip of air, relaxing your limbs long enough to let your sorrow stream through your core, while your eyes refused now to directly look at your fianceé. "But I won’t let myself fall into your trap again, not again.”

The moment his ears caught that almost inaudible whisper, Thomas threw his arms around you, his right forearm placed at the end of your back, holding you tight, while his other hand intertwined with the soft hair behind your neck, guiding your cheek close to his own so that you could perfectly feel each other's breathing, your chin partially resting above his shoulder. "Love, please..." His warm, yet lower voice filled your ears once again, and, even though you only wanted him to lull you out of that obnoxious feeling of sadness, you forcefully shut your eyelids to regain control over your tumultuous emotions.

"Tell me why I should believe you" Those distrustful words created a sharp constrast with the warmth fluttering between your bodies, as you leant against his smooth skin, involountarily seeking comfort.

"Why shouldn't you believe me? When have I ever lied to you, eh?" Tender strokes guided your head out of the croock of his neck, while Tommy grasped your face with both his palms, foreheads pressing against each other and eyes enchained.

Almost staggered by those entrancing blue seeps, scared by that extreme closeness and its venomous effects, you took a deep breath and reluctantly shied away from his embrace, turning your back on him and approaching the window in hope to retrieve some lucidity. "Yeah, right. You don't lie to me, you're much too clever for that. You just hide things"

Soon you felt Tommy's gentle grip around your arm, applying a slight pressure in order to have you turn around and face him again. "What? what do I hide from you?" His voice still soft against your mouth.

"You've been sleeping with her for months under my fucking nose" You shoved him, now screaming on the verge of that incessant emotional rollercoaster dragging you between rage and sorrow, over and over again, exhausting you.

"That's not true, and the way you're reacting just proves I was doing the right thing not telling you about May" Following your lead, Tommy rose his voice too, his eyebrows wrinkling into a disappointed look, as he tried to shift the blame on you, too bad his manipulative ways could not spellbind you; not that easily, at least.

"Don't you dare playing these twisted games with me, you bastard" Nails scratching the soft flesh of your palms now clenched and wildly thrown against his torso in a haphazard attempt to cause him some sort of pain.

"Fucking stop it, y/n! Stop!" Tommy's eyes stroke you once he'd managed to capture your wrists for the millionth time, still trying to extinguish your violent outbrusts. "Just talk to me like a damn civil person" He screamed inches away from your nose.

"Says the one who goes around cutting people and burning places down" You bitterly spit back, no trace of hesitation in your tone this time, while your angry stare openly challenged him.

"Well, sorry, darling, but you should've thought of that before" Like a mirror, Tommy's attitude immediately emulated yours, going back to the sharp, mocking sarcasm usually clothing his speech, his pink lips curled in a taunting grin. “It's not like you didn't know how things worked around here" "Oh, there he is, the earnest, transparent man you've always been; haven't you, Thomas?" A forced laugh erupted from your throat, while you patethically exasperated your tones, brows implausibly arched, putting on a sympathetic expression almost as sardonic.

"Yes, yes, I fucking have!" His coarse shout wiped away any residual irony. "It's not my fault you still struggle with all of your insecurities, making scenes in front of my whole pub for a stupid toast" And once again he was trying to defend himself by goring you at one of your weakest points.

Trembling droplets started to dance before your dilated pupils as your strengh faded, having you feel like a bewildered kid when confronted with a thinly concealed truth. Your white teeth rabidly skewered your lower lip cloaked in the shadow cast on the rest of your face by your prone head. The whole room fell silent, only filled with your heavy breaths and the meek weeping that you had finally stopped stifling.

"Have you been with her?" Eventually, you forced your watery eyes to look back at him, while you asked that atroucious question with an apparent calm that made your own skin crawl.

"No" Thomas wasted no time denying your doubts and offered you a straight answer leading your eyelids to shut faintly, as your chin aimed towards the ceiling in a desperate attempt to process the whole thing. "Aye, look at me" His warm hands enveloped your cheeks, his thumbs fondling your wet skin until he was sure he had your attention. "No" He repeated "I'm yours, y/n, and you know that"

A well known tenderness radiated from his grieved features, accompained by the hint of a grim smile. "I'm yours in ways other people couldn't even think of, I've let you see each and every chink, every weakness" his soft lips lingered yours moultiple times, leaving you nothing more than a glimpse of a kiss. "I chose to, because I trust you with my life, you keep me sane, y/n"

Salty tears invaded your tongue as your mouths finally indulged in a proper kiss, slowly caressing each other for a few long instants, while your muscles relaxed under his loving touch. "You fucking keep me sane and I don't know what I'd do without you."

Tommy desperateky draw a trail of delicate pecks from your chin, through your cheekbones and up to your forehead, until you found yourself incapable of restraining your instincts and deepened those intimate touches, giving life to a fervent kiss able to leave you both out of breath in the space of a scant minute. Still, you kept devouring each other, until Thomas lifted you with ease, adaging your body on the soft mattress behind his back and palcing his palms behind your knees so to spread your legs and wrap them around his waist. Panting hard against your incandescent flesh, Tommy left openmouthed kisses on your face and jaw and neck, while his fingers undid the top of your dress increasingly discovering further slices of velvety skin, new hunting ground for his ravenous lips.

With just as much eagerness, you managed to free him from what was left of his elegant suit, your nails scratching his solid shoulders as you let the white and black fabrics fall to the floor, soon followed from your own clothes.

Tommy's hands promptly engulfed your now bare curves, his teeth still grazing at the already sensitive skin of your neck as his muscular torso led you to lay back, trapping you in between his half tensed arm and his mesmerizing face, as he slowly entered you, never diverting his egnited pupils from yours.

And then you felt him seize your waist and bring you closer, until your ribs almost wedged in his own. And then you felt his lips praying an unholy preach beneath your ear. And then you felt his hips drowning in your afire flesh, again and again.

But none of that was enough to heal your wounds this time.

You wanted to trust him, you wanted to believe his words and feel safe and sheltered again, with him and him only; still, you knew that, from then on, paranoia would’ve taken over with every extra hour at the office, with every night spent out, with every business trip, and that, for sure, was not the life you wanted.

You knew affection couldn’t survive the bad seeds of suspect without rotting to hate and exasperation; so you just dediced to leave your love while it was still uncorrupted, not bearing the mere thought of watching it slowly deteriorate into reciprocal disdain.

One last time, you glanced at Thomas laying pacefully asleep behind your shoulders, before you left the room with a painful burden crushing your chest.

tag list: @spidey-pal, @shadow-of-wonder, @stassaurus, @peachlle, @livvtheangel, @myjbphase, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest, @vxxn128, @keithseabrook27, @spaghettirogers, @writingstudent, @hp-hogwartsexpress , @eggingamazinglove, @geeksareunique, @cailoleaf, @simonsbluee , @hereforsmutandfluff, @starxtt, @jenepleurepasbaby, @staygold-bebold, @marvelschriss, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @lucillethings, @rivianqueen, @kaitlyn2907, @cottonvioletsposts, @50shadesofireallydontcare, @lucrea, @bittergomez, @nothingleftthaticando, @glupolizam, @twiggymorrison, @sweetheart0217, @thomashelbyswhore, @arminsarlerts, @prongsies, @burnt-out-highschooler, @bank-of-rubytowne, @stressedandbandobessed7771, @imagineadream, @superanimenatural, @landyray, @cryostrich, @vicisbookishblog

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 2 years

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You are worth every word of love. Worth every good deed, worth every smile, every tear of joy. You are worth the suns rays and the warm air, you are worth the happiness and the laughter. You are worth everything good and beautiful. Give everyone and anyone this message, go to random blogs, someone you don’t even know, stretch your ask limit, anon or not, tell them they are worth it. Because the world needs more love.

Sharing this for each one of you beautiful people ❤️❤️❤️

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 2 years

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Yooo! Welcome back! S and V for the fanfic asks 😘

Hi love! How are you? It’s been ages 🥺❤️

S) I guess I’m in love with the big bad tommy/john x younger oc not really belonging to their world. I love the contrast because it brings out personality features you wouldn’t see if looking at them only in their natural criminal habitat

V) Uuh, this is a tough one! I’d probably finish Fosca by Ugo Tarchetti. Beautiful, beautiful psychological novel written in between naturalism and romanticism (here we go again). I highly suggest you read it!

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 2 years

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hi! i just finished reading part 2 of white lies and its incredible i cant wait for the next part!!

Awww, you guys are amazing ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you so much for your feedback! About part 3, we’ll see how things go 🤞

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 2 years

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Hiya love, H and M for the fanfic asks? Have a great day!

HEY BABEEE!

Hope you’re doing good as well 💜

Anyway:

H) Idk honestly, I think I’m kind of a mixture between realistic and romantic style. I mean, I love detailed descriptions, I literally need them ‘cause I want my pieces to capture reality as much as possible (same with my taste in figurative arts, I like things that closely replicate reality). On the other hand, my themes and my approach to human emotions are kind of romantic, less rational, sometimes even pompous.

M) I’m struggling with this one, can’t really understand what it means, would you please help me? Guess it’s sort of an idiomatic expression that I don’t know yet.

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 2 years

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FanFic Ask Game

A: How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]?

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

C: What member do you identify with most?

D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?

E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

H: How would you describe your style?

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

L: How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters?

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

Q: How do you feel about collaborations?

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?

X: A character you enjoy making suffer.

Y: A character you want to protect.

Z: Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 2 years

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Guess I’m back like this bitch here

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #michael gray x reader #alfie solomons x reader

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 2 years

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White Lies - part II || Thomas Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

↬ Part One ↫

Summary: White lies can lead to tragic outcomes.

Warnings: swearing, angst, a tiny hint of violence, May Carleton insert, slight smut

Author’s notes:

I’m sorry babes, for everything. Love you ♡

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Well, if that was true, he wouldn’t have had much trouble in buying a new one.

You could see his marble hips, diving in hers again and again, conducing an unmerciful assault; the sweetest battle to fight, one able to mend his intangible war wounds.

Or at least you tried to.

“You were leaving?” That atrocious question escaped his lips in a short breath and his brows took a painful fold in the process, causing a dull ache to grip your entrails at that sight.

“Y/n, please-” Nevertheless, that mournful preach was soon estinguished by your harsh tone not leaving space to hesitation anymore. “Don’t fucking touch me, Thomas”

Your hands slapped his arms now dangerously close to your silhouette, but soon his firm grasp enveloped your wirsts allowing him to reduce the distance between your bodies.

“I said stay away!” you pratctically screamed in his face and your head swayed, having your locks fall forward, as you struggled to wriggle out of that deadly grip.

“No, y/n-” His calm voice once again tried to keep you in place along with his callous hands, but you were far too overwhelmed to regain your control.

"Get the fuck off me! Get off, let me go!" Histerical peaks distorted your voice as you kept writheing against him like a wild animal held captive.

"Let go of me" At this point your rage gave way to resignation, escaping your lips in the form of a pleading whisper, echoing your previous demands.

Your wrath started to emerge again, boiling in your veins until your palm violently connected with his face for the second time that night.

"Bullshit! I love you and you know that" Tom’s index finger mandatorily pointed at your flushed face, his blue eyes thrusting open and inviting you to reckon his indisputable truth.

"You lie for a living, Thomas Shelby, you craved an empire out of lying" Pointing at his chest, you took another stride towards him, teeth clenched with frustration as you went on.

"Says the one who goes around cutting people and burning places down" You bitterly spit back, while your angry stare openly challenged him.

"Have you been with her?" Eventually, you forced your watery eyes to look back at him, while you asked that atroucious question with an apparent calm that made your own skin crawl.

But none of that was enough to heal your wounds this time.

One last time, you glanced at Thomas laying pacefully asleep behind your shoulders, before you left the room with a painful burden crushing your chest.

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 4 years

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How is your writing going? I can't wait for part 2!!!! 🥰🙏❣️

It’s not going 😪😭

I don’t have any time at the moment, like I barely have time to wash my hair and eat, so we’ll have to wait for a while; buuut a cute idea popped up in my mind, so at least there will be some good news when I’ll be back ♥️

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 4 years

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Random question time! 😂 Favourite scene in The Peaky Blinders? Also, if you could have an unlimited storage of one thing, what would it be?

BABYYY ❤️❤️❤️

So, about the favourite scene, you can fin the non-answer here

About the unlimited storage, I think you’re talking about food/drinks, so I’m gonna say PASTAAA 🍝

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 4 years

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Me singing to Tommy Shelby Me: Watermelon 🍉 sugar HIGHHHH 🤣 Tommy face: 😶 dead 😂

“Why are you wasting my tragic halo with your happy vibes?”

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 4 years

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Can you do some finn stuff please🕊🖤

Hey love! Requests are closed, buuut take a look at my to do list, a few Finnxreaders will be written, I don’t know when tho, I’m studying for my exams at the moment, which means that, for as much as I’d love to write, I just can’t now. I know you can understand me and I’m sorry ❤️

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 4 years

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I just watched Black Mirror 4x04 and now I’m crying my heart out, but like in a positive way, it touched me and I feel stupid, but I needed to tell this to someone lol

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 4 years

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List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. Spread some happiness in the world! 🧡🍬 (I don't think you were one of the last 10 people, but hey, just wanted to send this to you. :))

Hey babeee, thank you for thinking of me ❤️

So:

Summer, it may seem silly, but summer makes me happy

Traveling around the world with my bfs

Going to concerts

Reading and collecting ancient books, Latin books count double 😂

Learning stuff and writing things that make me proud

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 4 years

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In memory of the good old days 💔

Missed it, I’ll probably never be able to write something like this again, ugh

The Whore || John Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “11&19 with John boy? cause I miss him “ (I miss him too, my poor heart aches)

Summary: n.11 & 19 from prompt list: “Please, please, please” + “I’ll burn this fucking place down” Warnings: swearing, a lot of angst, prostitution, nudity, violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of rape, misogynistic talk, graphic description of signs of physical abuse

Author’s notes:

So, this request’s been in my mind for ages, and even though I’m not happy with its final part ‘cause it sucks, I’m literally obsessed with this idea, I love it so much that I’ll probably write a long fic about it, right after Contagio, but it will depend on you babes, because, first and froemost, I need to know what you think about this piece. ⤟ IMPORTANT

Please, if you’re a victim of any kind of abuse, talk to someone who can help you, nobody should go through something like that alone.⤟ IMPORTANT

I edited the gif and added the text, it’s not an actual scene from the show, but I thought it could be a good idea, a small detail that could be added to my works. What do you think about it? Pls, let me hear your opinions babeees ⤟

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham was somehow silent that night, John noticed the unusually empty streets around him, as his feisty pace easily led him towards a well-known destination, his confident steps resounding in between the damp walls of those sordid blocks made of innumerable overcrowded flats. The unmistakable stench of stagnant urine viciously permeated his nostrils, soon causing a disgusted expression to taint his angelic face, while he avidly took the umpteenth drag of smoke from his Cuban cigar and finally stopped his unceasing walk in front of the most renowned brothel in the entire city. For about three years by then, day after day, his life had been perilously circling the drain: things had got totally out of hand, fate had pitilessly thrown him into profound despair, giving life to an apparently endless spiral of darkness and desolation, which was gradually corroding his fragile self, brutally strangling him, rapaciously plundering each of his already strained vital breaths. And, nevertheless, it was beyond hard to blame him for such catastrophic outcomes, after all, he’d scarcely survived the battlefield, only to find himself with a handful of nothing, left alone to deal with a dead wife and four children to raise on his own, while his guts crawled with excruciating grief and ravenous acrimony for the whole world, having him develop a tendency to self-destruction that was just as concerning as it was well concealed. As a matter of fact, in spite of his private hell, he still remained a Shelby, and a Shelby wasn’t meant to be soft, nor weak, none of them could afford to succumb to their affliction, never, not for a moment. They had to be invulnerable.

Or, at least, they had to look invulnerable, for truth was that John was scared, utterly frightened by all those unmerciful changes. Deep inside he felt like a hopeless, undefended child, forsaken by God and discarded to wander that grim world without any destination other than death and misery, thus his blood boiled with virulence and venom, having his heart clench with blind wrath and his devastated young soul desperately long for sort of any distorted kind of unattached affection. That was basically the main reason why his bed was incessantly warm, or more accurately, warmer than it had always been before, because, needless to say, John Shelby had actually been an authentic ladies’ man since his first cry. His stunning beauty constantly teemed on everyone’s lips in Birmingham, there was not a single woman in the whole town who hadn’t dreamt of sleeping with him at least once in her life. Therefore, John was more than happy to please them all, literally, welcoming them with wide open arms, even during his past marriage; and, on those rare times when no girl went to knock on his door, he had now grown accustomed to seek relief into whorehouses, rather than sleep alone and become an easy prey for his ferocious demons.

So he eventually ended up dropping his smouldering cigar on the uneven asphalt of the most rundown place in Small Heath, “Le Belle Donne”, an Italian house of tolerance, quite dilapidated and about to fall to pieces, but which often happened to have his favourite prostitutes. Indeed, ever since the Peaky Blinders had defeated and subjugated Sabini’s clan, they’d occupied a prominent position among the country, to the point that several other Italian gangs on their territory, including the Changrettas who owned that brothel in particular, had finally given in to the Shelbys. As a direct consequence, to put it simply, John and all his brothers had, in a very real sense, earned the full right to abuse of whatever business the wops held.

“Hey, man!” Johnny resonantly barked as he entered the hall, maintaining a pretty intimidating attitude and a menacing look on purpose, in order to strike even greater fear in his newest flunky. “C’mon, show me what you got” That rough order cunningly glided onto his lower lip, immediately followed by his hot tongue, while his famished gaze travelled around the room, examining the face of each harlot standing there with meticulous attention, without however finding something that could come anywhere close to seriously rapture him. Robert Turrini, the whoremaster, was a bizarre bloke, for his physical appearance could be probably described as both disturbing and amusing: his revortingly corpulent stomach wobbled and his short legs dangerously stumbled, when he made haste to stand up and accommodate his toughest client. “Mr. Shelby, what an honour and a pleasure to have you back!” Those sycophant words fled his moist and malodorous mouth, and nonetheless, his stubby fingers inexorably betrayed his true thoughts, since they were either nervously torturing each other or, as only alternative, convulsively running through his greasy, mangy bangs. “Please, sir, follow me, these are for yokels and boozers, nothing to do with gentlemen like yourself” Once again, Turrini’s shrill fawning tone relentlessly grated his ears, making clear reference to the bunch of second-rate whores who could be found at the entrance; thus the lame pimp quickly moved, his hand anxiously beckoning John to tread upon his heels, then headed towards an eerily narrow corridor, so scanty that it was almost impossible to cross, if not walking on the bias. The secret lounge was illuminated only in part by a squalid red light creating a gruesome atmosphere, a dull silence tyrannically reigned into that small space, although you were not alone, but practically glued to another girl; both sitting on a minuscle sofa, your elbows touching, still none of you dared emit a single sound. Everything felt like lead upon your papier-mâché ribcage, that horrible sensation forcing your traumatized brain to involuntarily keep counting the seconds until that heinous burden would’ve potentially staved in your sternum, definitively annihilating your splintered heart. As a result, when the ramshackle door opened and a high-pitched squeak scraped your skin, you really thought to be about to die. Your torturer made his entrance, and right after him, another man came in, yet you couldn’t spot his face, since the peak of his cap designedly casted a mysterious shadow on it. “These two right here, they’re real young, real fresh” Robert flaunted his goods along with a nefarious grin, rubbing his soiled paws with evident greed. “Behold the finest offering of flesh and bone on the market” A sadistic snicker repugnantly accompanied his speech, instantly causing John to frown, visibly disgruntled with the way that man deliberately talked about human beings. Luckily, it was a known fact that the middle Shelby was used to treating his women with all due respect: whether he paid them or not, he always made sure they were comfortable with him and never shrank from giving them some good time as well; therefore, a vexed glare was shot in the direction of his gross interlocutor, before his crystalline eyes briefly fluttered around the place, then bumping into your elegant figure almost at once.

Your bloodstream seemed to benumb on the spot as the stranger’s confident stare entangled yours, his rawboned features being now fully displayed, for he had lifted his chin a little in order to properly look at you, and you only, despite Clarissa’s desperate and petulant attempts to get his attention with malicious smiles and ridiculous pet names. Even though your dazed mind had just been ruthlessly brutalized by the sudden, ablaze assault of his glacial irises, a few moments were enough for you to realize how profoundly different he was from all the low-down rats who usually came through that horrible place.

Each sharp, still somehow delicate, trait of his face was brimming with delicious youthfulness, a less keen eye might have even confounded his freshness with actual naivety, but not yours; you were far too clever to make such a coarse mistake. Furthermore, the midnight-blue posh fabric of the classy suit, remarkably folding his majestic body, left gaunt doubt that he was, in all likelihood, a considerably rich man, which was beyond disorientating you, since the price to pay for some tawdry delight in that brothel was outrageously derisory, to say the least. And ultimately, as much as it killed you to conceive it, he was without question one of the most enchanting men you had ever seen, to the point that you found yourself subconsciously wondering the possible reason why a heavenly creature of his kind would’ve needed to buy a miserable hour of dissembled love.

“There she is” That malleable murmur, filled with longing and gratification, furtively sidled past John’s roseate mouth, as its corners seductively bent upwards and his gaze persevered in its praiseworthy commitment to scrupulously linger your finest shape in sheer adoration. Lace and organdy sublimely merged on the light crimson negligee you were wearing, your immaculate form appeared as a beguiling paradox into his dilated pupils, being your long legs lecherously left exposed, while every inch of your porcelain skin, from your lean neck to your groin, was painstakingly disguised by that unholy material, dark and inscrutable, albeit thin enough to allow him to glimpse the inviting turgidity of your nipples. His breath shuddered in awe when he went back to contemplate your aphrodisiac facial features, flushed cheeks and plump lips having him ache with desire, and then your doe eyes flooded by melancholy, strangling his soul with no mercy, entrenching into his brains the treacherous conviction that, at the end of the day, he would’ve gladly dilapidated his fortune, if only to venerate you from afar. “Oi, sweetheart!” His low voice finally rumbled within the walls of that small space, overwhelmingly vibrating into your abdomen, while you forced yourself to swallow the painful lump obstructing your throat and stand up, promptly responding to his command, aware as you had become that rebelling against your pitiable destiny would’ve served no purpose at all. Holding your client’s hand behind your back, but keeping your head down during the whole route, you silently guided him up the spiral staircase to the best room in the house, like you had previously been instructed by your pimp. His jacket and hat were quickly hung on the apposite coat-rack, leaving his muscular top covered with just his white shirt and blue vest, an alluring grin was flashed in your direction and you detected a libidinous sparkle in his irises, as he healed the rift between you at a slow pace. “What should I call you, sweetheart?” He knowingly used the same flattering pet name once more, whispering that barely audible question into your ear, for he was now behind you: his large hands laid around your waist, gently making your back and his vigorous chest fit together, while his skilled mouth brushed forthwith against your nape, drawing an ardent contrail of ephemeral pecks up until your jaw. “Just y/n” You gasped in response, the marked contrast between his warmth and your bitter cold body, along with crippling dread eating you alive, caused your scrambled stomach to squirm and your eyelids to distressingly shut into a frown. “Well, that’s a pretty good one, I’m John, by the way” A lovely, yet hinted giggle fleetingly filled your ears together with that little compliment; there was no record of mockery in his tone, though, it simply sounded like he wanted to be nice to you, without any aspiration of personal gain, and you almost blushed, caught off guard and no longer used to any form of kindness. Nevertheless, it was a matter of instants before another wet, long kiss was pressed on your jawline, making you startle with evident apprehension and, at a later time, definitively back away from him, as soon as you sensed his touch abandoning your hips only to climb your sides, till he reached for your nightgown’s collar and his fingers began to fiddle with its round buttons. “No, I’ll do it!” You curtly gave notice, as you temporarily lost control of both your speech and actions, placing your hands above his in order to shrug them off, then turning to face him with short breath, your open palms shielding you. “I got it” A noticeably softer voice supplanted your preceding rudeness once you gradually metabolised how much damage your incautious reaction could’ve done.

“Aye, aye, darling, as you wish” But John just chuckled, tenderly humouring you, while his forearms jokingly lift in surrender to your commands, although, truth be told, your strange behaviour had left him a bit bewildered, well-nigh confused. Carefully moving backwards, he cockily made himself comfortable on the edge of the double bed, sitting right in front of you with splayed legs, his yearning stare never deflecting from you, and started to unbutton his waistcoat along with his shirt and undershirt, until his statuesque torso was completely nude, in all its glory, as the moon transpired through the curtains and shed its faint rays on his every contour, superbly enhancing all of his muscles.

Without reprieve, he ogled up at you in pure adoration, devastatingly astonished afresh by your dazzling beauty, eager to feel your afire flesh around his, literally hanging on your every word or move, while a provocative smirk steadily rippled his lips. Still, he kept questioning why a seraphic vision like you was slowly withering away in that authentic hell on heart, adamantly squandering your blush of youth amidst that rabble of unrestrained putridity. It made absolutely no sense, and he couldn’t get rid of that pernicious thought haunting his mind ever since he had first seen you: you looked nervous, extremely defensive, almost paralyzed with fear; you seemed so different from all the whores he’d had before, hence his instincts, however obfuscated with cupidity, were screaming that something was wrong. And when he watched you turn your back on him again, so to avoid his penetrating gaze as you reluctantly got undressed, it was enough for him to understand that his execrable hunch was right. Nevertheless, by the time his head managed to eventually reconnect to his mouth, it was already too late, the soft textile of your nightdress ineluctably fell to your feet, leaving you naked under his starving leer.

John choked on his own breath; for the very first time, he felt like a fledgling kid at his earliest experience, no matter if nothing could be further form the truth, in some turbid, cryptic way, you were able to make him vulnerable. His craw went hellishly dry while he continued to gape at you in awe, the sinuous curves of your flawless glutes, the meandering line of your superlatively arched back covered in part by your soft hair, your tensed shoulders and your refined legs, everything about you caused his mind to go entirely black, words stifling in his throat. Yet, as soon as you moved to face him and his sight was blessed with the full view of your voluptuous figure, something altered the light in his cerulean eyes, suddenly making it dark and gloomy. His jaw slightly dropped under the weight of that violent dismay: in conjunction, an obnoxious sense of nausea cruelly shot him in the gut and blind anger virulently assailed him, for your front bust was completely martyrized.

“What the hell…” That unmeant babble died in the gelid air, his shocked orbs demarcating the strokes of your damaged silhouette: your neck and collarbone were horridly plastered with several violet fingerprints, as if someone had mercilessly strangled you over and over, greenish bruises with the shape of full palms circled both your arms, there were conspicuous signs of ligature around your tiny wrists. Worse still, his eyelids had to squeeze a little in order to bring into focus the multiple oxblood dots stigmatizing your soft breasts, until he noticed in horror how those round specks were effectively cigarettes burns; all of the oxygen bluntly withdrew from his lungs, when he dwelled on the multiple blue and black marks barbarically desecrating the protuberances of your ribs. But what irremediably drove him over the edge were the two ghastly scars digging stretched grooves in your lower stomach, in parallel with your bulging pelvic bones and down almost to your livid groin.

Prey of that deleterious humiliation, you observed raw disgust contaminating his features and, with no apparent reason, the dormant hatred you had for yourself began to ferment inside your belly. “I-I’m sorry” you forced yourself to swallow your imminent tears, unexpectedly, the awareness of not being able to please him somehow inflicted more suffering on your mangled soul “If I’m not to your taste, y-you can…” The young man quickly stood up and, before you had the chance to finish your nonsensical sentence, he readily grabbed his shirt, approaching you with dispatch, his cold irises burning with an implausible mixture of fury and concern. “I don’t fucking care right now” His voice was unsteady, rolling down his tongue in fatigued panting, as his hands hastened to wrap his shirt around your shoulders, his trembling fingers struggling to put the buttons through the eyelets “Who did this to you?” In truth, he was talking to himself rather than with you, noticeable impatience worsening his mad tone, yet you persistently steered clear of his inquiring look, more than determined to keep your mouth shut, forasmuch as your dizzy head was already helplessly spinning, along with your heart rabidly hammering against your sore ribcage. You were having a hard time figuring out what was going on, everything around you was so confused, you didn’t even know whether to trust him or not, you only wanted to close your eyes and forget about that lucid nightmare. “I’m not asking you, for fuck’s sake! Tell me who it was!” That searing order tersely brought you back to reality and cleared how easily his rash temper could reemerge; indeed, all of a sudden, no trace was left of that kind, cheerful boy who earlier that night had succeeded in making you genuinely blush, on the contrary, when he cupped your cheeks and vehemently shook you, in a desperate effort to get your attention, his rough, authoritative command unbendingly hit you, and the sweet child within him ended up being thoroughly smothered by the scary, ruthless gangster that he truly was. That unforeseen contact had your feet automatically stagger backwards, your eyes fell to your tiptoes and your teeth started skewering your lower lip, while your exhausted brain resorted to its last ounce of strength, thereby obligating you to spit out a bit of your sorrow. “Three months ago, the man I once called father sold me to settle one of his debts with the Italians” Your thorax seemed to shrink to the point of absurdity once you became aware that it was essentially the first time you allowed yourself to say it all out loud. However, the presence of that compassionate stranger still represented for you a substantial barrier to surmount, leading your unquiet glance to franticly move from the grime on the floor, to the broken window on your left, anywhere, but never daring to meet his. “ I tried to run away, I swear I did, but they always caught me and-”

A large knot callously plugged the bottom of your palate, causing you to hesitate for a minute, gently rubbing your own arms, in attempt to comfort yourself . “Robert has a short fuse, he g-gets pretty brutal when you don’t cooperate” Those disenchanted considerations carried an involuntary grin, it was nothing more than a spasm, but hid the unmistakable sign of an imminent cry, and John’s attentive irises certainly did not let it go unnoticed, yet he chose to stay quiet, because the last thing he would’ve wanted in that crucial moment was to scare you even more. “He beat me to death, each time harder than the time before, and then he let those men-… He-e kept me tied to that bed for days to teach me a lesson” Copious tears were now unremittingly streaming down your flushed face, your heart aching with raw affliction, preventing you from breathing properly, one of your palms instinctively went to cover the space between your breasts, in a vain whirl to ease that excruciating grief. “Oh, God” John simply sighed, he was precariously theetering on the verge of tears as well, thick veins untamedly pumped in the proximity of his temples, till his solid shape ruinously keeled over the longest side of the bed, his elbows piercing his own thighs, as he hid behind his clenched fists and finally permitted himself to indulge a couple of muffled sobs. Innumerable atrocities had clouded his eyes and soul during his brief life, he himself was capable of unspeakable acts of cruelty, still, that was absolutely intolerable, hearing your story was taking a terrible toll on him. Try as he might, he couldn’t conceive how somebody could have been so hopelessly evil, to abuse in such a heinous way a defenseless creature as pure as you were. That thought was irretrievably disturbing him, rancorously eroding his bowels, almost depriving him of his sanity.

“U-until I stopped fighting them” Your last, indescribably anguished whisper struck the fatal blow, it unrelentingly plunged into his chest, sending an unbearable jolt of pain through his poisoned veins. For a brief instant, his expression, together with yours, harshly turned into a mask made of neat despair, as if your synapsis had been ravelled and both of you were enduring the exact same ache, at the exact same moment.

“I’ll fucking kill him!” Then, all at once, something apopletic inside him violently detonated, he berserkly stood up, roughly tripping over the beside table and everything placed on it. “Fucking kill that filthy bastard with my own two hands, bloody hell!” His hoarse yells made your bruised skin cringe and his furious steps covered the whole length of the room in the space of a scant minute; he was literally seething with murderous fits of rage, teeth grinding with irrepressible choler. “No!” your desperate voice erupted afresh and you hurried to reach for him, your hands unconsciously enveloping his cheekbones “Please, please, John, please, stop!” For the first time, his name slipped out of your aching throat in between those pathetic pleads, your wrists forced him to look at you, in attempt to dissuade him from his homicidal purposes; the mere thought of the potential disastrous consequences to his calamitous ire totally asphyxiated you, rampant panic assaulted your frail mind and, soon after, you found yourself hyperventilating and simultaneously rambling a bunch of incoherent words, your fingers gradually tightening their grip on him. “He’s gonna get so angry at me, he’s gonna- he-he’s…” “I’m a fucking Shelby, he does not draw a damn breath unless I say so” He firmly grabbed your chin with just two of his fingers, guiding your depleted pupils to entirely focus on his confident stare, and he growled that undisputable fact a span away from your nose. Petrified by that new awareness, you fell utterly silent, only gawking in his direction, while he put his undershirt back on with ease and rapidly grasped his cap. “Just stay here, do you hear me? Don’t move until I come back” An incandescent kiss was impulsively pressed to your forehead, no other words were spent, before he disappeared behind the door of your private hell. When your persecutor saw his special guest unyieldingly storming towards his desk with a truculent expression exuding fervent disappointment, he jumped on his feet, ready to find a solution to whatever problem had possibly arisen; one thing was sure, he never would’ve guessed what was about to happen. “Mr. Shelby, what’s wron-” John’s fist savagely collided with his jaw, nipping his cloying speech in the bud, without giving Turrini a second to process what was going on, another punch pitilessly smote him, and then another one, and then another, until hot, plenteous blood gushed from his multiple wounds. “You son of a bitch” Animalistic groans left his rabid maws, sheer hate rushing through his brains, as he violently tossed him to the ground, immediately beginning to kick his torso with all of his brute force. “Mercy! I beg of you, sir, have mercy!” His victim’s prayers and harrowing screams barely titillated his ears, everything he could think about was your tragically marred body, hence an unbridled desire to give him a taste of his own medicine completely took over. “Where was your mercy when you were torturing her?” Expertely holding his hat in the most efficient way, in a fury, John went down on his sacrificial lamb, promptly disfiguring just one side of his face, in order to take a quite theatrical pause from his wicked work.

“When she was imploring you to stop?” Robert was now crying out loud, overwhelmed by that merciless agony, reduced to just invoke the glacial scynt of death, since nothing in his entire miserable existence had ever caused him more intense pain, than the coarse perception of a finely sharpened razorblade brutishly lacerating his flesh once more, inch by inch.

“Now bend your ear to this” despite his wrenching laments, John rudely lift him up by seizing the blood stained collar of his jacket “if anyone else but me goes near her fucking room again, I’ll burn this fucking place down!” And with that first, deadly threat the pimp’s head was brutally slammed into the wall, an umpteenth whine of contrition escaping his mouth filled with blood, nevertheless, no time was left for redemption.

“You lay a finger on her again” his skull was doggedly crashed into the bricks once again, a crimson spatter smeared the pale plaster covering them “I will break your neck” John’s knuckles clasped, having his red right hand effectively strenghten its hold on his neck, nearly killing him on the spot. However, fortunately for the whoremaster, Johnny would’ve not put an end to his sufferings, nor he could’ve simply taken you away, deep inside, he knew he needed to discuss it with his family, first and foremost, with Thomas, for the unstable equilibrium reached by the Peaky Blinder was far too fragile to start a new war against the Italians. Thus, with great difficulty, he forced himself to keep his mind clear and put a lid on his beastly instinct. “From now on, no one of you dirty swines is allowed to even look at her” Throwing him to the floor, the middle Shelby delivered one last kick straight to his fat abdomen, and disrespectfully spit on him, marking with his salt slaver the end of his brutalized prey’s calvary. “By order of the Peaky Blinders” As soon as the crackling door snapped open, your heart seemed to explode, your eyelids bolted with pure fear, whilst you pulled your knees closer to your clavicles, an ancient prayer lingering your lips together with heavy breaths, as you prepared for the worst. But the worst never came. “Y/n, hey, calm down. It’s all right” John’s husky voice echoed in your ears, and, you could’ve sworn it, that was, without the slightest doubt, the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Your head abruptly tilted in his direction, an oxymoric mixture of fear and hope twinkling into your watery irises, deep pants still rocking your tiny self. “It’s me, it’s just me” Keeping his arms up to indicate his innocuous purpose, he carefully approached you. Almost immediately, you noticed the several scarlet handprints staining his pale top, eloquent sign that he had tried to wipe his palms on that ivory material as best as he could. Yet, you were so profoundly relieved to see his friendly face, that, to be honest, the sight of fresh blood didn’t upset you at all. It was like you had fallen into a fugue state, every single thing around you was so distant, your numb senses were only able to concentrate on John’s lean silhouette kneeling in front of you. “ No one will hurt you anymore, darling” his hands gently went to caress your thighs, while his worried gaze tirelessly sought yours and he spoke those soft, reassuring words “You need to trust me”. And you did want to put all of your faith in that young man. His delicate flair easily awakened you from that ostensible slumber, building a rousing fire inside your belly; without a thought about your unforeseen actions, you threw your arms around his strong neck, your knees producing a dry sound as they collided with the wooden pavement, still you didn’t care and you held him tight, letting out loud cries and drowning into his muscular chest, finally revelling in the feeling of that warm embrace. Soon, he entangled his callous fingers with your velvety locks, subconsciously narrowing his solid shoulders, as to shield your frangible figure from the outside world. “I’ll get you out of here soon, I promise”

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