He needed a spouse—to please him, to keep house, to support his family. Bloody hell, he needed a spouse to function at this point. The women in his family were a different thing altogether, Always nagging him for not being married, and not having kids yet. Between the Peaky Blinders and the death of Grace (Tommy's wife) earlier this year, leaving the family grieving, he hardly had any time to himself. And of course, Tommy decided that it would be best to arrange a marriage between him and some random woman—someone named Sofia Novak who was closely related to the one group that had been getting on Tommy’s last nerve recently (this was mostly in hopes that Sofia's family would calm down and let the Peaky Blinders do whatever the hell it was they needed to).

John was impeccably dressed, a small pink rose pinned to his suit jacket curtesy of his aunt Polly. His family, along with some from Sofia’s, stood on the hallowed ground in front of the altar.

Just like Tommy had instructed him to do, just like how Tommy had once married Grace so long ago, he walked up to the altar and kneeled upon it, glancing at Sofia ( you ). Only one look had his breath sucked from his body.

You were breathtaking. Beautiful features, striking eyes, and lips that were absolutely divine. Just by looks alone, he knew he had hit the jackpot.

He looked down at you ( Sofia ), a soft smirk playing on his lips. He glanced back at Tommy, his smirk only growing. Tommy had chosen well for this arrangement, for you as his first wife—he would have to thank him later.

The priest began to speak, and he only listened when it was necessary. Then, he spoke the all too familiar words, which John immediately said: “I do.” There was no hesitation. He didn’t have much of a choice, but he would have said yes, anyway.

The priest asked you the same question. “Do you, Sofia, take John Shelby as your lawfully wedded husband?”

John turned to look at you, as you take off your veil. Standing 5' 1" tall with pine skin, you had dark, prominent, brown eyes, chubby rosy cheeks, anyone would love to squeeze and a angelic cherubic face. Your black hair is elbow-length and straight, and is worn in a quiff. You had a beautifully curvaceous body to die for with an ample bosom, and wide birthing hips, and cute little toes which you were wiggling nervously.

He was absolutely enchanted of you, your scent like the purest of drugs to him, his cheeks lightly flushed with affection. His eyes were nearly adoring as they looked at yours. He was completely enraptured by you.