#guys is it love when you see yourself as a completely disposable pawn of someone whose opinions you take as orders

[sheila--e]

sorry but if you confused Sheilas obsession w Gio as love well I think u have a very skewed version of what love is

[yandere-ac]

Tom Nook X Reader

Fireworks

Alone.

10 pm on a Sunday and Tom was sitting alone in the residential services, typing away on his computer, trying to ignore all the sounds outside. The sounds of everyone running around, the sounds of people having fun, the sounds of fireworks going off. But most importantly, the sound of him. It’s been years and nothing has changed with him. He was screaming at the top of his lungs, trying to attract customers to his little raffle. Tom knee he was out there, that’s why he simply couldn’t go. The simple muffled sound of him shouting was enough to make his heart stop. “Come one! Come all! Step right up to redds raffle! For the small fee of 500 bells you’ll be guaranteed to win one of these fine prices! That’s right folks! You’ll never know what you’ll get but you are guaranteed to win!!!”

Huh. You’ll never know what you’ll get. Thats funny. That’s sort of how Redd and Toms relationship used to be. Tom however, did not get a guaranteed win. No, he got scammed out of 500 000 bells and was left in a ditch to rot away and die. He never thought Redd would be able to do something like that to him. Tom thought that he was different to Redd, that he actually cared for him. But Redd proved him wrong that night. He proved that Tom was no different than all the other fools that Redd tricked on a day to day basis. Because that’s what he was to Redd, he was just another one of his pawns in his big game of chess. He meant nothing to Redd and was easily disposable. And here he was, just outside his window, trying to make quick money off of his fellow islanders. And Tom was letting it happen. Because he was too much of a coward to go and do something.

Phyyyuuuuuuuu....

BOOM!!!

Another firework went off. Tom could see the ground light up from outside his window. Oh how he wished he could be outside. But he knew he wasn’t strong enough to face Redd. He never wanted to see him again, and he hadn’t planned on doing so. And he would do anything to avoid seeing his past partner.

Plingelingeling

The soft sound of the little bell that was attached to the door dragged Tom out of his thoughts. Someone had entered. And that someone was you. You were laughing and were holding a balloon. At least someone was having fun out there. You made eye contact with him and smiled, running up to him. You had a star bopper on, probably something that Isabelle gave to you. You looked very cute in it.

“Hi Tom!” You said as you sat down in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Why hello hello Y/N! Having fun out there I hope?” He said, giving you a genuine smile. “Yeah! It’s been awesome! The fireworks are really pretty and we’ve all had very fun! The boys are really happy as well! They’ve been running around for hours now! It’s really cute!” You said, very enthusiastic about the whole ordeal. Tom has asked you to take the kids with you to the festival. They both had been cooped up in the store for too long and deserved a break. And there was no one he trusted more than you. “But....I think they would enjoy it more of you were out there with them...” oh boy. So you would pull this card huh. He let out a slight sigh. “Yes, I would also enjoy it...but I can’t Y/N...you know that...” as he said this he felt two soft hands grab his paws. “Is this about Redd?” You asked, and just hearing someone else say that bastards name made him tense up and made his eyes widen. “...I take that as a yes...come on Tom! Who cares what that guy thinks! He’s a sad man who’s only enjoyment in life comes from watching other suffer! He’s not worth your time!” Tom knew Redd wasn’t worth his time, yet it didn’t exactly make it any better. Just stating the obvious isn’t going to help his case.

“...I’m sorry...look, how about we go to a secluded spot, far away from the plaza. Do you think Redd will leave his precious money making station to go after you? Trust me, you need to get out of the residential services. You won’t have to see Redd okay? I promise!” Once you said this, you took one of your hands and cupped his cheek. Tom responded by closing his eyes and leaning into the touch. How bad could it be. If he would just ignore Redd and get away as soon as possible, things might work out. And so, he took one of his paws and pressed it on the hand that was cupping your cheek. “Alright then”

Walking out from the building, Tom and you were holding hands. Tom could see all of the islands inhabitants running around, clapping or cheering. Some were sitting on the ground, others were standing up. And he could see one islander sitting on another shoulders as they ran past him and Y/N. “Oh hello Mr Nook!” The one on top shouted as they passed the two. The loud announcement of the name made a certain fox turn his head to see if what he heard was really true. And once he made eye contact with Tom and gave him a wide smirk, Tom knew it was game over.

“Well well well. If it’s isn’t Tom Nook himself. I’ll be honest, I thought you died or something nookie, but here you are! Nice of you to visit your good ol pal Redd!” Toms ears fell done on his head. All of a sudden he could feel memories of Redd and him wash over him. But not the good memories, no, rather the memories he wished he could lock in a box and throw into the ocean. Redd walked closer to the two and Tom tried to regain his posture. “Hello Redd. How are you doing this evening?” Tom looked at the fox. He was wearing completely different clothes than his usual “only an apron” style. He hated to admit, but he like the foxes outfit. Should he say something? “You look nice. I like the new clothes.” Tom didnt want to give the fox any sort of encouragement In any way shape or form but he hoped that the compliment would at least soften Redd up in the slightest. He refused to look into the foxes eyes. “Pff, thanks! I wish I could say the same for you.” this made Tom freeze for a few seconds, that’s was, until he felt you squeeze his hand. Slowly stroking it with your thumb. Once he looked into your eyes and saw nothing but support, he felt better. “Uncle Tom!!!” The tension was interrupted by the sound of two younger voices accompanied by the small pit pats of four small paws running against the ground. Tom could see Timmy and Tommy running up towards him. Both of the boys jumped into his arms and he managed to catch both of them swiftly. He felt a pair of small arms wrap around his neck. Tommy was giving him a hug and Timmy was enthusiastically explaining what they had done this evening.

“It was so cool!!! You should have seen it! Y/N made custom fireworks with us! I made a dinosaur and Tommy made a jellyfish!!! And then- then Y/N made their custom firework look like me and Tommy!!! It was so pretty!!! And then aunt Isabelle gave us these boppers! Look, look!” The two brothers were indeed wearing two boppers. Timmy was wearing a flower bopper and Tommy was wearing a heart bopper. Tom chuckled slightly at their frenetic nature. It was obvious the two was running on sugar and adrenaline at the moment. He was certain that the two small tanookis were gonna have a tummy ache the next day. He could hear the faintest sounds of a little bell coming towards them. He turned to see that, yup, Isabelle was coming towards them all.

“Oh! Tom! Great to see you out here! I’ll be honest, I felt a little guilty leaving you alone while I got to be out here” Isabelle said, huffing slightly as she talked to him. “Oh yes. I finished all my paper work you see.” That was a lie, however, only three people knew it was a lie. “Oh yeah I’m sure you had so much paperwork huh?” Redd said, inserting himself into the conversation. This is when you started to lose patience. “Why don’t you shut your trap Redd!” Redd was a bit taken back by this. You always acted so quiet when you bought art of off him so to see you be so audible was strange to be sure. “Oh I’m sorry? Where you involved Y/N? What are you gonna?” Redd said, irritation plaiting his voice. “I would love to tell you what I would do but there are children present you selfish-“ “enough! Y/N, you said it yourself. He’s not worth it. Just let it go.” Tom told you, stroking your shoulder in an attempt at calming your nerves. You looked into his eyes, and in one fell swoop, you picked up the two brother that were now standing besides him. The two of them let out screams of delight and laughter as you started to run off. “Come on! Follow me!!!”

Isabelle and Tom were trailing behind you. How were you so fast when you were carrying TWO children!? Just like always. You never cease to amaze. You finally stopped at the highest hill on the island. There grew a single tree full of the islands native fruit. You put down Timmy and Tommy who were still giggling like crazy. You sat down besides the two boys and leaned up against the tree. Soon Tom and Isabelle caught up with you, both extremely out of breath once they got there. “What in the world was that for?” Isabelle asked as she looked at you. “I felt like we needed a change of scenery. Tom needs to see the fireworks! And I thought, what better place then the hill! And so, I grabbed the kids and ran here!” As you said this, you scooted over, patted the place next to you. Tom sat down next to you and Isabelle sat next to the boys. And for the first time, Tom could actually focus on the sky. It was beautiful. Absolutely stunning even! The sky was filled to the brim with colours after colours. Exploding like big balls of flames. It took his breath away. Even Isabelle seemed amazed. She had seen the fireworks sure, but from up here, they were even clearer! All five of them just watched the fireworks in silence for 15 minutes straight. It was only when the three adults heard a soft groan that they turned the attention away from the sky and to the small tanookies. Tommy was resting his head on Isabelle’s lap and Timmy was using Tommy as a pillow.

“Whoops. Looks like someone’s energies run out. Poor things, it’s way past their bed time. I’ll take them home.” Isabelle said, gently picking up the boys in her arms. She was about to leave when Tom stopped her. “Wait Isabelle. Before you leave... could I have one of those boppers?” He asked. It felt silly of him to ask but he thought they were pretty and wanted to participate. But Isabelle wasn’t a judgemental person, far from it. She simply giggled slightly and bowed her head before him. “Here, take mine.”

And so. Isabelle was off. She was off to put the kids to bed. That left Tom and you completely alone. Tom was readjusting his bopper and you were simply looking at him with a smile. “Hey look at that! We match!” You said, nudging his shoulder slightly. “Huh? Oh yeah! I guess we do ahhah...hey Y/N? I wanted to thank you. Thank you for fixing the Redd situation, thank you for taking care of the boys, just thank you for dragging me out here. And umm...” he took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. The tanooki placed a quick kiss on your cheek. It took you a second to realise what had just happened. But once you did, you smiled to yourself, grabbing his hand slightly.

“You’re welcome Tom.“ And so. The two of you continued to watch the fireworks, you leaned your head against his shoulder.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

So yeah...another out of the blue fic that I wasn’t planning on writing!!! But listen, @mrmr-uwu told me about this headcanon she had about how the reason Tom isn’t present at the festival is because he can’t be with Redd because it’s to painful for him. Like do you expect me to hear that and NOT write a 2000 word fic about it??? Don’t be ridiculous I don’t have that self control! But this was really fun. Like I’ve said before I will take ANY excuse to write for Tom Nook. I will now get back to your normal Yandere content

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Doyenne ~ Part 7 (Final Chapter)

Warnings: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy needs help from one of Birmingham’s most powerful underground gangs, the Hemlock Angels. Little does he know, he’s not the king of Birmingham after all.

Warnings: Murder, Illegal stuff (Is this even a warning for this show? Everything’s illegal) 

Word Count: 5867

A/N: Ahh! The last chapter!!! As I go back and re-read the last few chapters, I’m nervous Tommy has been a little OOC (I hadn’t watched the show in a few weeks). But oh well! Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy the finale! 

A/N 2: Also, all the monetary references have been adjusted for inflation. I think I forgot to mention it before. But, yeah. So 400 pounds was worth much more than 400 pounds now. 

___________________________________

Fuck Thomas Shelby. 

Fuck him and the way he treated everyone around him as if they were beneath him. Fuck him and the way he acted like people were expendable. Fuck him and the way he viewed everyone as pawns in his own overlord game of chess. Fuck him and the way he just blatantly called you out. Fuck him and the way he made you crave him.

Your encounter with him had been fulfilling in ways you hadn’t expected but it had also infuriated you, bringing back memories you’d struggled to suppress for the last two years. Memories brought out emotion and emotion was vulnerability and you had no room for that. But since Tommy had planted the seeds of memory in your mind, all you could do was feel the hidden rage and heartache you’d been concealing since Mason had screwed you over. 

Mason had been your lover years ago as the Hemlock Angels grew. He was a poor boy desperate for money and you were a poor entrepreneur desperate for people willing to do illegal work. A romance very quickly blossomed and he was the first and only man you could say you ever truly loved. You’re whole heart and soul was invested in him. 

He was tall and handsome with auburn hair that was slicked back on top but shook loose when he’d get into something he was doing - whether it was working hard loading crates, beating someone up who tried to cross you guys, or making love to you. He had a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose that gave his otherwise chiseled and angular face a soft touch. Toned muscles rippled across his perfect body and- 

Even today, after all this time, after all he’d done, you still felt love for him and you hated yourself for it. Once the Hemlock Angels took off as a whiskey exporter (though still a young and admittedly sloppy version of your current business in retrospect), he’d been caught at the docks with the cargo. He and the crates were seized by police and, with the promise of a very handsome monetary reward and legal immunity, he’d given the police the address of your distillery. Thankfully, you weren’t there when it had been raided but you lost everything you’d worked for because of him. ₤400 was worth your love and life’s work apparently. He took the money and ran off to Switzerland to avoid being drafted and lived off his money, leaving you to rebuild your empire. 

The betrayal had destroyed you, left you a complete shell of a person, incapable of trusting others, especially men. But it had allowed you to grow the Hemlock Angels. To avoid the pain, you threw yourself into rebuilding the distillery and developing more foolproof protocols for business operation. Never again would you make the mistake of allowing someone to double-cross you. It was why you conducted your business quietly, even quieter than, say, Alfie Solomons, who was also fairly underground as these sorts of businesses were concerned. 

Thomas Shelby made you feel things that Mason had made you feel and it terrified you to no end. The impending doom of repeated history loomed over you heavily, suffocating you and ripping your ability to breathe away. But it was a mistake that you kept feeling yourself drawn to making. 

Friday night had come around quickly and you found yourself awaiting Tommy in your main office yet again. The last thing that you wanted was to see him in this room, the ghost of his touch coming to haunt your skin. But no. This needed to happen here because meeting him on his turf gave him the upper hand. And now that Jameson and Brandon, the only thing you’d asked for in return for your work, had been killed, this was feeling more and more like a free favor. You refused to stake anything more than you already had on a free favor. 

“Y/N, Thomas Shelby is here for you.” Rita announced, peeking her head through the crack in the office door. You stiffened up, trying to play it off as just sitting up straighter but your prodege must have seen straight through you because she gave you a knowing glare. 

“See him in. Thank you.” Straight-forward, professional, and impersonal. That was going to be your new tactic. No more of the games you’d attempted to play with him, the same games that you were usually able to play successfully with everyone else. No more hot and cold, nice then firm. Tommy was able to worm his way through the small cracks of your professional wall to see the parts of even yourself that you tried to hide and that vulnerability stopped here. 

“Mr. Shelby,” You nodded in acknowledgement when he entered your office and you gestured to the chair across from you. Tommy’s eyes flashed with a hint of confusion. The entire energy of this interaction felt off already but nonetheless, he followed your gesture and sat down. 

You reached down and grabbed a leather bag from beneath your desk, dropping it on the table. Reaching up, you clicked the little locks on top open and pulled the material appart, revealing thousands of American bills, “Here is the final installment of the money. All the same as the first.” 

Tommy peeked into the bag, just to ensure that the money was in fact there. He lifted out a stack and flipped through them. They all appeared to be identical both to each other and to the last bag and if he hadn't known any better, he would think they were all legitimate notes. 

You leaned back and watched as he inspected the money, sure that he’d be satisfied with the work, before continuing, “There is a shipment going out to America tomorrow night. I need to know what it is that you’re shipping so I can be sure to leave enough room onboard.” 

The man shook his head, “I can’t tell you what it is that we’re shipping.”

“Then I can’t help you anymore.” You stated matter-of-factly, crossing your arms, “I need to know what I’m sticking my neck out for.” 

“Like I stuck my neck out for you?” 

“Yes.” Your eyes locked with his, refusing to back down or allow him to guilt trip you. 

Tommy sighed, “It’s snow.” 

Your eyebrow raised in surprise, “Didn’t have you pegged for a drug lord.” You actually were almost impressed. The man had range. 

“Just dabbling as you would put it,” he responded vaguely. 

So cocaine… It wasn’t the worst of the possibilities that you’d imagined. Ideas of dismembered body disposal or massive amounts of firearms or a million other worse things had occurred to you as possibilities. Of course, it depended on how much as well. “What’re the dimensions of the shipment?” 

“Half a cubic meter.” 

“Half a cubic fucking meter?!” You exclaimed, nearly choking on air, “How the hell did you come into that much blow?” 

Tommy put his hand up, “Now that I can’t tell you.” 

You nodded, “Alright, alright. I can respect that. A half cubic meter is an easy accommodation. Now, for the game plan…” 

Shipment days were anxiety producing enough as it was when you weren’t shipping thousands of pounds worth of cocaine along with it but tonight, your heart felt like it was in your throat. “Billy said the crates are all loaded at the distillery.” Rita announced to you, holding one ear to the receiving end of the phone and covering the mouthpiece with her hand. You finished loading your gun at the kitchen table inside of your shared house, slipping each bullet one by one into their slots with experienced skill.

“Good. Tell him we’ll meet him at the factory in forty-five minutes.” With a final spin of the chamber - a ritual you’d developed after telling yourself (with no real evidence) that it was good luck years ago - you clicked the metal pieces together and slid it into the holster at your side. 

“Forty five minutes? It’s only twenty minutes outside of town.” Rita questioned once she’d hung up the phone after relaying the information. 

You loaded Rita’s gun for her while you spoke and slid it across the table to her, “We are picking up Thomas and his brother Arthur to take them to the factory to load up their cargo.” 

She caught the gun and looked at you with wide cautious eyes, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Taking the Shelbys to the factory?” 

You sighed a knowing breath, “Yeah, I know. But he insisted that he remain in possession of the goods for as long as possible.” 

Rita’s face scrunched, “He knows he’s gonna have to relinquish possession at some point, right? What is he even shipping?” She slipped the gun into the pocket of her skirt. 

“Snow.” You confided with an impressed chuckle. 

She nearly snorted, “Really? Didn’t have him pegged for a drug lord.” 

A shocked laugh left your lips, “That’s what I said!”

Ten minutes later, you pulled up to the shipping yard that Tommy had said he’d be at with the cocaine and sure enough, there he was standing beside Arthur, both with cigarettes between their lips as they waited. In the shine of your headlights, you saw them both look over at you and move to pick up a wooden crate that was on the ground alongside an old military canvas bag. “Good evening, Y/N.” Tommy greeted politely once your tires came to a halt on the crunching gravel. 

“Good evening. This is it?” You confirmed once you got out of the car, pointing at the crate and bag full of money on the ground. 

He nodded, “Yes, this is it.” 

“Alright, we’ll just load those in the back seat for now,” You pointed back over your shoulder towards the black automobile behind you, “You must be Arthur. It’s nice to officially meet you. This is my right hand lady, Rita.” You introduced, first shaking his hand and then moving so Rita could as well. 

“Pleasure.” Arthur nodded to you both. 

“Well, should we get going?” 

Right on time, you arrived at the old factory you were meeting Billy, the man in charge of transport at the distillery, at. The factory was inconveniently located, even in its prime, set twenty minutes out of town, and had been abandoned since at least the 1880’s following a massive fire that had totally destroyed the structure and killed dozens of working men. The ghost stories surrounding it had kept it from ever being rebuilt and it had been abandoned for nearly half a century since, which now made it the perfect place for you to conduct business. 

“What the hell are we doin’ all the way out here?” Arthur asked when the car pulled up to the building. There had been nothing for miles and even now there was just your car and a large truck. 

After turning off the engine, you got out, the other three people in the car following, “I know it doesn’t look like… well… anything really. But trust me, this has worked well for us over the years.” 

“There’s no ports, no railroad stop. We had to take a dirt road to get here. How do you even move goods from this point?” Arthur questioned, skeptically. You could almost feel him reaching for his gun, convinced they were being ambushed or something and maybe, if you hadn’t been so eager to get this deal over with so you could stop whatever the hell was going on with Tommy, you would have dragged this out and messed with them a little bit. 

You pointed to the opposite side of the large factory - or what was left of it at least, “You can’t see it from here at night but there’s an old railroad track just on the other side of that wall. The train only comes through once every two weeks or so but thankfully it’s usually the same conductor. A few pounds buys us an unscheduled stop on his trips down to Gloucester where they load everything up onto a cargo ship and haul it off to America.” 

You were proud of your little system you’d developed. It had allowed you to grow into an international exporter and was the main source of your success. Tommy had seemed impressed last night when you developed the plan and explained everything to him then and now Arthur seemed to match his affections. 

The loud closing of a door drew all of your attention to the large truck. Billy, a stout, acne scarred man in his late forties, walked towards your group from the driver’s side of the truck. “Y/N! Will said the train is runnin’ a little late but should be ‘ere by 10:30.” He informed you in his thick Irish accent once he made it to you guys. A few other of your men jumped out of the passenger side but hung around the truck instead of approaching. 

Rita flipped out her pocket watch and checked the time, “We got about fifteen minutes then.” 

The next fifteen minutes were passed with pleasantries and conversation. Arthur never quite let his guard down and seemed on edge but had relaxed significantly. Honestly, you had as well. Something about tonight felt different than usual. There wasn’t the constant paranoia that the Shelbys were out to double cross you tonight you. Perhaps it was a mistake but, for once, you felt almost comfortable in his presence. 

The train came by right at 10:30, it’s crawling pace coming to a screeching halt with a loud hiss of steam. Billy went up to one of the old metal train cars and undid the locks. The door was slid open to reveal an empty space. “Alrighty, we’ll just move the boxes from the truck to here and then we’ll be on our way.” 

The other men who chose to stay by the truck had already lifted the canvas cover off the top and were carrying huge crates one by one, full with copious bottles of your illegal whiskey, to fill the train car. You stood off to the side with Rita, Thomas, and Arthur while your men worked, waiting patiently as they unloaded the truck. 

“Alright, Mr. Shelby. We have the space for your cargo now.” Billy invited, hands outstretched to take what Tommy had to ship. You noticed a nervous glance from the crate to Billy’s hands from Arthur. 

Tommy at least pretended that he trusted Billy, “Y/N told me that you travel with the shipment all the way to America,” He took out a picture from his pocket, “This is the man that will be awaiting your arrival there. Pass the goods off to him and only him, understand?” 

Billy nodded, inspecting the picture of the man before folding it into his coat, “Yes, sir.” 

Finally, Arthur relinquished possession of the cocaine to your man and he set it carefully on one of your boxes. After packing the duffel bag full of money, Billy hopped inside and the door was slid shut. 

The other men took the truck back to the distillery and you turned to Tommy, “I’ll call you when I get the call that it’s arrived in America. It usually takes between seven to ten days, depending on the weather.” 

 “Thank you. Perhaps, we could get a drink to celebrate.” He suggested as if you hadn’t had sex out of spite the other night. 

“What is there to celebrate?” You avoided the invitation. 

He gestured around, “A successful business transaction?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, “I feel like you’d use anything as an excuse to drink. I have a hunch whiskey flows through your veins in place of blood.” 

He shrugged, “Nobody needs an excuse to drink.” 

“Fair point.” Internally, you smacked yourself but you ended up nodding a reluctant agreement, “Alright, one drink.” 

Tommy gave you a satisfied look that could have almost resembled a smile, “But this time I want to show you one of my establishments.” 

Thankfully, Tommy had agreed to your suggestion of Arthur and Rita joining the pair of you as well, using them as a buffer to ensure no other mistakes were made with the man who seemed to be your kryptonite. You’d taken everyone to the Garrison, a pub that you’d known to be under the control of the Peaky Blinders for the last several years, right after all the work at the factory had been finished. 

Tommy held the door for you as you passed through, Arthur taking over to hold it for Rita. Wordlessly, Tommy held up four fingers before ushering you away to a small booth in the back, along with his brother and Rita. All four of you slid along the cushion seats, making small talk yet again. Thankfully, now, after having been around each other for the last few hours, it was much less awkward and everyone was open to more conversation than initially. 

Arthur excused himself after a moment and when a poker game opened up between some of the other Blinders, Rita, an secret card shark, disappeared to swindle some poor, unsuspecting men of a few pounds. You and Tommy found yourselves alone, exactly what you’d hoped to avoid. 

“Sure she should be playing?” Tommy pointed over to Rita was his mostly empty glass of whiskey. You followed his gaze to see her with a disappointed look, one of the guys sliding his hand to take what you assumed were her chips. 

You snorted, “Oh, I’m sure. It’s your boys that should be looked after. Give ‘em a few more rounds. She’ll be leaving with most of their money.” 

Tommy almost smiled and nodded, “Aye,” He paused before beginning again, “Y’know, I can’t help but feel a little guilty. You helped us out with a lot and you didn’t exactly get your end of the bargain.” 

You inhaled deeply and looked away from him, bringing back up that professional front that you’d felt slowly slipping away throughout the night, “It happens sometimes I suppose. I thought about asking for more but a deal’s a deal and unlike some others, I don’t like to change my conditions once they’ve been agreed upon.” 

“And what is it that you would have asked for had you been one to change deals?” He leaned forward, listening intently to your next words. 

“Is Thomas Shelby feeling guilty for taking more than he gave?” You asked in shock, “I wouldn’t even do that.” Your tone quickly became jestful. “No, I’m only joking. You did end up coming to the rescue the other day which is more than others would have done.” 

Instead of seeming satisfied with your answer, though, he only raised his eyebrows and repeated the question, “What would you ask for?” 

Something told you that he was offering you new circumstances, an extra favor. Who did that? In this line of work, who knew what kind of horrible request would be made? 

What did you want? It was a good question. But did you have to answer honestly? Because an honest answer might jeopardize your life’s work and maybe even your life itself with some people. Tommy hadn’t double crossed you thus far though… 

After a long pause, you licked your lips, “A deal.” 

“Another deal?” He questioned curiously. 

You nodded, a small smirk on your face, “Yes. A deal between the Peaky Blinders and the Hemlock Angels. Business partners and an agreement to aid each other when needed. Neither of us offer the same services or sell the same goods, with the exception of the Garrison and my little establishment, so there’s no need to worry about losing business.” 

Tommy cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you didn’t trust me. A double crosser, I believe you called me when we first met?”

“I said that’s what other people had called you.” You defended, remembering your first interaction well. “But I must be honest, I had a hunch they were correct.” 

“Then why trust me now?” 

“I don’t,” You answered short and honest, “But I want to despite everything telling me not to. I figure this way, I can keep an eye on you.” You threatened in a joking tone, although you really weren’t joking all that much. As the saying goes, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Or, more fittingly for your scenario, keep your friends close and your acquaintance/ occasional hook up/ business partner who might backstab you closer. 

It took only a few moments for Tommy to weigh out the decision before nodding, “Alright, a deal then.” 

You raised your glass to him and he mirrored the action, a slight ting as your glasses tapped against each other in a celebration of a new alliance. The next twenty minutes or so was full of small talk, something that Tommy never found himself doing with anyone, so why was it so easy with you? Every now and then, there’s be grumbles of anger from the table playing poker as new opponents who insisted they could beat Rita lost a larger and larger fortune with each round. 

A quiet ding as the door opened made you twist your neck, curiously checking to see who came in. Then your heart stopped. “Fuck-” Your heart was caught in your throat and you wanted to vomit. 

Mason. 

He looked almost identical to how he did two years ago, just with a few more age lines. Time had been less kind to him than it had to you. He entered the room with a large casual air, surely unknowing of your presence. 

Tommy noticed your sudden panic when you uncharacteristically sunk into the the booth, hiding your face from the red-headed man who had entered the pub, “So that’s the man, eh?” 

You covered your face which had turned a shade somewhere between pink with embarrassment and red from rage. But nevertheless, you nodded, still side eyeing Mason from between your fingers as he ordered a glass of gin. 

“Gin?” Tommy noticed judgmentally, “Drinks like a woman.” 

Normally, under any other circumstances, you would have made some snarky comment about using your gender as an insult but you appreciated the effort to insult this man he’d never met, simply because he’d wronged you. “So what happened?” He inquired. 

You sighed, finally sitting up straight, just keeping your eyes on the table, “My ex. We were practically on the verge of marriage. He helped me start up the Hemlock Angles before he sold us out to the cops for a few hundred pounds. Ruined us for months.” 

Tommy listened to the story intently, watching the man out of the corner of his eye and quickly noticing that he seemed to have noticed your presence. At first, he glanced over nervously towards you before deciding to approach, a decision that Tommy had a hunch was the wrong one. 

“Four o’clock.” Tommy mumbled over the rim of his glass. Your eyes immediately shot to four o’clock to see Mason walking over, all too confident for your liking, a confidence you had every intention of destroying. 

“Y/-” He began, only getting half way through your name before you interrupted. 

“You have a lot of fucking nerve showing your face ‘round here.” You hissed, venom dripping from every word.

Mason put his hands up in defense. Those same hands that used to be calloused from work and you’d seen covered in blood looked as if they hadn’t so much as lifted a piece of wood in months. “I didn’t come looking for a fight. Just wanted to see how you were doing.” 

“You’re lucky I don’t shoot you dead where you stand right now you pathetic sack of shit.” Tommy sat back and watched as you destroyed this man with your words and he could only imagine the other stories about him you had. Your viper tongue had him on edge in the best possible ways. 

“I-” 

“No. You’re nothing.” You interrupted. 

He sighed, “I wanted to say I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what I did! I miss us. I miss you.” He reached down, trying to take your hand, but you snatched it away. He looked down and eyed Tommy for half a second, trying to determine whether your relationship was romantic or platonic. 

You laughed a sadistic laugh, “You’re not sorry and you don’t miss me. You ran out of money didn’t you? Well I hate to tell you but you disappearing was the best fucking thing that ever happened to me. I run Birmingham now and it’s all thanks to you. Now get the fuck out of my city.” 

Then for a second, there was a brief flash of danger in his eyes, that same danger that you’d fallen in love with. But this time, that anger was directed at you. His fist slammed down hard on the table in front of you, just barely missing your face, but you didn’t even flinch, “Listen here,-” 

“She said fuck off, mate.” Tommy interjected finally. Both of you looked over at him and you could’ve sworn you almost forgot he was here. 

Mason snorted, “‘N who the hell are you?” 

“It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is that you respect her wishes and kindly fuck off.” Tommy’s voice was calm, much calmer than yours, but still holding a very sincere threat. 

Mason looked between the two of you and chuckled as if he’d been the one who was wronged in all of this before turning away, like he was trying to laugh it off nonchalantly. All of a sudden, he drew his arm back and began to swing his down onto Tommy. Before the blow could connect, you had your pistol out in a second and pulled the trigger. 

The loud bang drew several startled yells from around the bar and everything got quiet as they looked at your booth to see Mason’s body crumble face first on top of the table, lifeless. When the realization of what you’d done hit you, your mouth fell open in shock. “Holy shit…” You whispered to yourself. 

Tommy had jumped when the gunshot went off but now looked just as surprised as you did to see Mason lying dead across the table between you, “I really didn’t think you had it in you.” He really didn’t. Sure, he’d seen you shoot Sabini’s men but the way you looked at and talked about Mason, he assumed it was one of those loves you’d never be able to harm no matter the damage they’d caused to you. But, boy, was he blissfully surprised. 

All the Blinders in the building, including two of the Shelby brothers, Finn and Arthur, jumped up, guns pointed and ready to take down the attacker. Tommy held up his hand, “It’s alright, boys! Hold your fire!” 

You stood up to avoid the blood that was now dripping off the table and onto where you sat, “‘m sorry.” You apologized for the mess but Tommy shook his head. 

“Don’t be. He looked like he had it comin’.” With a wave of his hand, a few Blinders that you didn’t know the names of stood up from their seats around the poker table and walked up, lifting the body off the table. You weren’t quite sure what to do or say. You’d actually shot him. You killed Mason. He wasn’t the first person you’d killed but that didn’t mean that you enjoyed doing it. Unless it was in a moment of grave danger, watching the life drain from someone’s eyes as they crumpled into a bloody heap never ceased to make you momentarily sick, thoughts of the family you may have ripped apart destroying you. 

But you knew Mason didn’t have any family. The only person you’d hurt was him. You’d freed yourself. 

You looked up at him as he now stood beside you and saw that he was gazing down at the body and then glanced over to you, nothing but pure impressed admiration on his face.  

Tommy liked that you were able to take care of yourself and that you spoke honestly. It made him feel like perhaps this deal that you two had struck up would prove to be beneficial and trust based and that, just maybe, if things went well, perhaps the two of you could build your own empire together. 

Tommy had always been rather daft (or perhaps was that he just didn’t care) when it came to other people’s emotions and he was well aware of this flaw. But now, it was like he could see every inch of confliction on your face. “You alright?” He asked when he’d noticed your eyes hadn’t left the body, even when the men’s forms had covered it. 

His voice shook you out of your daze and you blinked yourself into clarity, “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.” You turned away from the table to face the open room of the bar. Rita stood at the table, her chair tipped over on the ground behind her. She looked from you to Mason’s body that was being carried out back and back to you with a look of shock plastered on her face. The only other person who knew as much as you did about that situation was her. 

You walked up to the bar and threw a few coins on the bar, “I don’t care what it is, just make it strong.” 

“You don’t have to pay.” Tommy insisted but you ignored him, leaving the coins on the bar and taking the mystery drink that had been poured. Walking out the front door, Tommy trailed close behind.  

Finally, you parked yourself against the outer wall of the Garrison and downed the whole glass in one go, the fiery liquid burning a trail down your throat. Whatever the drink was, you had no idea. You set the glass down on the ground and lit a cigarette to replace the glass rim. 

Nobody spoke for a moment, until a small group of cops came running by. You tried your hardest to look innocent as they stopped and eye Tommy knowingly. “Tommy-” One of them started in a thick cockney accent. 

Tommy shook his head and pointed down the road, “Wasn’t us this time. Came from down the street.” 

It was clear from the looks on all three of the cops' faces that none of them believed a word that came out of his mouth but they weren’t about to cross Thomas Shelby. “There was a bit of a commotion from up there earlier before the shot.” You tried to reinforce the lie as smoothly and believably as possible. 

The cop looked a little more convinced when you agreed with Tommy and nodded before the trio ran off down the road looking for another gunman. This exact situation was why you didn’t get involved with the cops because they’re not going to believe you when you need to lie about something like this. 

As time passed, you became more calm, “I really am sorry about this, Tommy.” 

“I’ve never had a woman shoot someone ‘cause I was ‘bout to be punched. It was quite attractive, I can’t lie.” Tommy lit a cigarette as well, standing beside you, almost blocking the activity of the street in what seemed like an attempt to protect you.

A smile cracked on your face when you chuckled a little, the constant matter-of-factness of his tone making almost everything he said sound like business, even when he was complimenting you, “Well, like you said, it had been a long time coming.” 

You felt like you were being dramatic. Wasn’t killing just part of this gig afterall? “Y’know, I swear I can usually shoot someone without breaking down.” You tried to defend yourself with a weak laugh. 

Tommy shook his head, “It’s not always easy, I know. My hands get the shakes at night. Just because it’s part of the deal doesn’t mean you have to enjoy it.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “You know, I haven’t felt the way I feel around you in a long time.” 

His confession was simple and, while a small part of you wanted to smack him for his terrible timing, a larger part of you felt the same way. “Neither have I. I’m used to being airtight but you make me weak… and I hate it.” You looked away from him, avoiding his deep, knowing eyes. 

“Whoever said that this had to be weakness?” He inquired, a hand running along your arm. 

A scoff left your lips as you rolled your eyes, “And you don’t believe that romance is weakness?” It wasn’t until the words left your mouth that you remembered he’d lost Grace and a pang of guilt struck your chest for bringing up the memory. But you also weren’t about to revoke the question. It just further illustrated your fear.

Tommy looked at the ground a for moment, remembering what it was like to hold the love of his life in his arms as she died, knowing it was fault, and thinking about how it felt to relive that pain every time he looked at a portrait of her or his own son. 

Finally, he nodded, “We’ve both lost people we loved but we also still have people we care about, whether they’re family or friends. A lesson that’s been very difficult for me to learn over the last decade or so is that it is impossible to completely rid yourself of all weaknesses.” 

Again, an almost humorous comment coming from Thomas Shelby, who everyone had known to be as secure and weakness-free as you were. You thought about his words, though, and tried to convince yourself that this was a bad idea - that an alliance and romance with Thomas Shelby was only sure to blow up eventually. 

“So?” He urged, his voice low and gravelly, after a few moments of silence. 

Silently, you found yourself trailing your eyes from his chest that was straight ahead up to his lips and then to his eyes. You took just a step closer, closing the already thin gap between the two of you and placed your hand around his neck, slowly coming to lean up on your toes. The movement was slow, giving him more than enough time to protest or pull away from you but he didn’t. 

Tommy’s hand lightly landed itself on your hip and he leaned down, meeting your lips in the middle. Unlike the last time your lips had met, this was soft and gentle, a side of Tommy that you had no idea even existed anymore. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while before finally parting your lips. Your faces still rested just beside each other’s, bodies close enough to feel the other’s warmth through the cool night. Your eyes slid open finally to see Tommy already looking down at you, waiting to see if this was a kiss of new beginnings or of closure. 

“Don’t make me regret risking everything for you.”

_________

Taglist: 

@kiaoizz 

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[soukokuwu]

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

THE GAME

》 angst (fyodor x reader)

》 trigger warning! death, toxic relationship, manipulation themes

》 word count: 2.1k

》 hi i’m glad you liked the fluff, hope you like this just as much! 

“your thoughts are not your own”

A series of calculated moves. The workings of a brilliant mastermind. It was going to be checkmate very soon. The pawn is going to be making her last move, and it would be tonight.

The lights that paved the way to your house intensified his evil grin. His long black hair covered his eyes as he walked forward with his head hung low. The ushanka he donned kept his ears warm in this chilly night air. To a mere stranger, he may have looked sickly. But unbeknownst to them, he couldn’t feel more alive. Tonight would be the night he could finally be free from your shackles. Or to be clearer, the shackles he had let you put on him.

It was a chore. A part of his mission he had to carry out. This role had left him figuratively paralysed. He had to act like a caring, doting boyfriend. For the longest time, he has had to act like you were an exception. How vile. There was nothing wrong with how you treated him, no. That was not what he had a problem with. But he had grown close enough to you to peek into your past— every little minute thing you have ever done.

And he could only think of one word to describe your sins: appalling.

The more he thought about it the more it gave him a headache. But, it was a silver lining. When the time would come for him to dispose of you, he would at least have no qualms about doing it. The art of manipulation was fun to execute, but it was getting much too boring. You were much too easy to control.

Tonight would be his first night returning to your accommodation in a week. It was a mere week apart, but he knew it absolutely drove you crazy. Mind-reading was not needed for him to know what you were feeling: paranoid, anxious, self-hatred. All of which was what he had aimed to induce in you. It would make you more agreeable, inspire you into taking action to make him happy.

Oh and how simple it was— a plain argument was all it took. He had hired a man to flirt with you, and as much as you were blindly loyal to Fyodor, you also always had trouble with turning people down. It was all too easy for him to ‘catch’ the guy laying hands on you, with you all flustered and wondering how to turn him down. All Fyodor had to do was put on an angry facade, pull you away and warn you that if you let others do that again that he would break up with you. Then he left you to your devices, and made sure you got the message by not showing himself to you— until tonight.

You had been practically shaking in your knees. It was entirely not your fault, but Fyodor was aware that you were too unaware to understand that. Such spineless nature— an advantage for him, but it would be the cause of downfall for you.

Oh what a sad thing, to be human and longing.

As he approached your door, he smelt the aroma of your cooking. You cooked very well, that much he would admit. He slowly opened the door and walked toward the kitchen, and there you were— so deep in thought about your cooking that you hardly noticed anything else around you.

So unobservant. So easy to assassinate.

Keeping his sinister thoughts under wraps, he put on a fake smile and approached you, placing a quick peck on your cheek.

Such a revolting action.

You spun around to find your lover, a relieved grin taking over your face. “Fyo, I’m so glad to see you again!” you exclaimed, giving the gentleman a tight hug. It was just all over your face how happy you were to see him again. You had obviously been fretting non-stop. Fyodor had been bombarded with messages the moment he up and left you that night after the run-in with the touchy man. He had gotten bombarded until tonight, even. Not that he gave it any care in the world.

I barely even have to try. How pathetic.

If you knew what was going on inside his head, you would have run for your life. But of course you didn’t. You didn’t even think anything was amiss. All that you had going on in your head was how you were going to make it up to him— you did infuriate him that night, after all. You thought about it as you started to loosen your hold on him.

“I have an idea! Go wash up, I’ll whip up something amazing for you!”

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

The night ended with dessert and a bottle of wine. Not that Fyodor cared or appreciated any bit of it. Still, he managed to play the role of devoted boyfriend perfectly— making sure that tonight you felt complete, wholesome. He needed you in a good mood, a willing-to-please mood.

He was sat on the couch, waiting for you to finish washing the last of the silverware. Once he heard the water stop running, he turned toward you, patting his lap, “Come join me, milaya.” Fyodor gave you the most sugary smile he could manage. Fake— but it looked sweet.

To anyone other than you, it was nothing but a mirthless smirk. However, you were blinded beyond saving. It was perfect in your eyes; just what you needed to end a dreadfully long week. The fact that Fyodor effortlessly knew exactly what was going on in your head made him more excited than you could imagine. Everything would go according to plan, and it looked like he’d chosen the perfect pawn. A strong and weak pawn, ironically, all in one.

Sinfully stupid.

It had been two long months you’ve been dating. He had researched enough on you to know what you’ve been searching for emotionally— a promise of a better life. Your childhood had been riddled with problems, most of which caused by the fact that you had come from a wealthy family. So Fyodor played the part of a humble, ambitious man who came from nothing. And you fell for him hard— hook, line and sinker.

You sat yourself comfortably on his lap, your head pressed against his chest. To you, it was cosy, comfortable. You wondered why Fyodor’s heart was beating so fast, but you took it as a sign that he was delighted by your affection. Which was half-true, he was delighted, yes, but only because he was about to make the pawn deal a checkmate.

“Do you love me, milaya?” he asked, gently ruffling your soft locks.

“More than anything in the world.”

“I know this may be going a little fast, but what do you think I go meet your father?”

You looked up at him in disbelief. Did that just happen? Did he just offer to meet your father? After all the horrible things you warned him about? This was going to be such a huge step forward in your relationship. Something you could have only dreamed about. But it was going to come true.

“Are you sure, Fyo?” you asked, searching his face for any sign of doubt.

He flashed you yet another sweet smile. “Of course I am, lyubov moya. You are special to me.” Fyodor leaned in to kiss you, just to make sure he got his message across. He didn’t even have to instil fear in you— he was almost in disbelief at how easily he was getting away with all of this.

And just like that, you agreed.

The meeting was to be on the next day, at noon, in the quiet park just a ways down from your house, before heading into the heart of the city for lunch. According to you, your father was elated to meet the man who has managed to capture your heart.

And controlled your mind, Fyodor added to himself.

That night as you lay asleep next to him, he smiled genuinely for the first time since he’s known you. He looked at your sleeping face. You were a beautiful lady, with a dangerously charming smile and an appeasing personality. That was the only thing he would admire about you— looks.

“You shall serve for the sake of God’s amusement,” he mumbled to himself, eyes still glued on you.

Fyodor inched a little closer to you to get a better look at your beauty, the smile still plastered on his face.

“What a pretty little disaster you will be.”

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

The next day couldn’t come quickly enough for Fyodor. You had just texted your father, telling him that you and your new lover would be headed to the park soon. You were very excited, and Fyodor could tell. You were all jittery.

“Okay I’ve told him we’d be there soon, so we should probably head out now.”

And the moment Fyodor heard those words roll out from your tongue, he dropped all his masks and chuckled.

Stunned, you turned to look up at him, and found yourself bewildered by the evil grin he donned. Did you miss something? What was going on? Why did that laugh sound so... soulless?

“F- Fyo,” you stuttered, trying to close the distance despite how terrified you were. “You... aren’t acting like yourself.”

What was this you were feeling? It was like complete... malice.

His chuckle got a little louder, his shoulders shaking, trying to contain his content. His purple eyes had lost all light, and the way he was looking at you chilled you to your very bones. “On the contrary, milaya,” he said, leaning down so his face was directly in front of yours. “I’ve never been more myself.”

You swallowed, confused by the sudden change in his demeanour. You fought back the urge to ask him about it in fear of the response you would receive. His eyes were still boring into yours, and you realised that the man in front of you was a stranger. A complete stranger. And it was then that you knew.

“I will pretend that I don’t already see the question in your eyes, milaya.”

Your worst fears have been realised the moment you noticed the threat in his eyes. So that’s all this was to him? A game? And you were nothing but a tool, a stone for him to step on to get to his true destination. Judging by recent events, his target was your father, and you had been the perfect ace in the hole, giving him exactly what he needed.

“I’m just a pawn,” you thought out loud, “in someone else’s game.”

Fyodor’s sinister smile never left his face. He placed a hand on top of your head. “Correct. And you’ve finally made a move.” He patted your head before continuing.

“After all, a pawn that does not move upsets the entire game.”

A thousand things were running through your mind. But one emotion stood out: fear. For Fyodor to have told you to your face that you were a pawn, after two months of keeping up with his boyfriend act, could only mean one thing: this was your first and last move. A pawn that was no longer useful would have to de disposed of.

“Don’t look so upset,” Fyodor said, amused by your reaction to his every movement. Such a pity that your beauty had to be wasted on your soul. “There are times when a well-placed pawn is more powerful than any other piece in the game.”

You wanted to punch him. To run. To get as far away from this sick, manipulative freak as you could. You hated that all you could think of now is not only of his murderous intent, but also of the small moments that had transpired between the two of you— the way his thin fingers always caressed your cheeks, or the warmth you felt every night as you fell asleep next to him.

“You should be rejoicing at the power you have.”

“I have fulfilled my purpose,” you resignedly admitted.

Fyodor was pleased upon hearing that. “Exactly,” he agreed. “So I shall reward you with this.”

You felt his fingers lightly brush against your cheek one last time, before blood started pooling at your feet and everything around you started fading into black. So, this was what you got for trusting the man, huh? What a stupid, foolish way of thinking. Nobody could be that perfect and be true. What were you thinking?

“May you be released from the yoke of your sins.”

His emotionless voice was the last thing you heard as you released your last breath.

“and then an uneventful demise”