𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — 𝐭.𝐬
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x fem!reader
Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, cursing, use of the words ‘whore’ and ‘bitch’, some spicy teasing in the end
Summary: When Y/N starts a fight over business and the secrets he’s been keeping from her, Tommy loses control and calls her names. Instead of backing down and leaving, Y/N shows him who’s really in charge.
“You’re keeping secrets from me, Tommy.” Y/N storms into his office without even knocking at the door, shoulders heaving with anger as she strides through the room and stops right in front of his desk to sink into the wooden chair standing there. Papers, contracts, and bills are scattered over the dark mahogany, hiding burnt cigarettes and an empty bottle of whiskey, but Thomas doesn’t seem to mind the chaos he’s working in.
“I don’t know, what you’re talking about”, he mutters as a reply, not even bothering to meet her furious gaze. Instead, he puts a cigarette between his lips and grabs a pen from the small pocket on his chest to sign the letter he’s been reading before Y/N decided to bother him. And although she can’t make out what’s written on that damned piece of paper, a knowing feeling settles in her chest and sets her rage ablaze, as if Tommy just poured a can of biting gasoline over her head.
A vein pulses between her furrowed brows, flush high on her cheeks as she grits her teeth. A desperate attempt to collect herself, to calm herself before she opens her mouth to speak again. “You’re here making deals and starting a war with other gangs without consulting me! I just want to know what the fuck is going on in our business!” Y/N crosses her arms over her chest, lips pulled back into a snarl, already waiting impatiently for his response.
And while it seemed as if Tommy wasn’t even listening, his posture tells her that he understood every single word she said. His shoulders are tense and his icy blue eyes have finally moved to her. There’s this look on his face, deathly cold - the one that makes his enemies tremble before him, forces them to their knees and makes them beg for their pathetic lives, but she isn’t one of them and she certainly won’t stop, not now, when she’s the one who started the fight. So, Y/N holds his gaze with her chin held high, eyebrow raised mockingly until Tommy pulls away and lights his cigarette.
“It’s not your business. It’s mine.” There’s a crack in his voice, almost unnoticeable, but it’s there nevertheless, indicating what’s about to come if she doesn’t leave in the next five minutes. A warning, one might say, a promise that he’s willing to forget her emotional outburst if she drops the subject and lets him work in peace. But Y/N doesn’t back down that easily.
“How dare you tell me this company is fucking yours when I helped you build it?!” She seethes with trembling hands. “I’m your… I’m your partner, for fucks sake!”
Truth is, she doesn’t exactly know what she is in Tommy’s eyes. A while ago she believed they were in love or at least close to that sensation, but now… Now, she isn’t so sure anymore.
Y/N had always thought she might mean something to him, after all the years they spent as children together, after all that time she took care of him when he returned from the war, when he was only beginning to build his empire. And she waited patiently for him — it took some time for him to get over Grace’s death, she understood that, but when Tommy kissed her months later it felt so real, so fucking real and full of desperate want. As if he really loved her. And now? Now, she almost thinks he’s just using her for his own advantage.
No, Y/N won’t have that. “Now, tell me what’s going on here. I’m your girlfriend after all and I believe I have the right to know about the deals you’re making behind my back.” Her voice is far steadier this time, yet Thomas gets to his feet quickly, knocking the chair to the ground with full force.
Y/N watches how the full beauty of Thomas Shelby’s wrath unravels right in front of her sight. Letters fly to the ground when his balled fist collides with his wooden desk, the cigarette he lit only moments ago long forgotten in the ashtray.
“When exactly will you learn to shut your mouth, Y/N? I will tell what I think you should know!” Tommy runs a hand through his dark hair, forcefully tugging at a few strands to ground himself before turning towards her again. “And don’t you dare come here again, asking stupid questions and calling yourself my girlfriend… trying to replace Grace when all you ever were and all you ever will be is a whore for me to fuck whenever I please!”
Tommy shakily lifts his chair from the ground to take a seat, chest heaving as his anger finally subsides. With a trembling hand, he lights a new cigarette, lazily taking a drag, yet his eyes never leave Y/N’s face. He notices the flush of her cheeks, the flash of hurt in her bright eyes, and the tears that cling to her long lashes, and god, how he already feels the pang of guilt rip through his ribcage, painfully clawing at his empty heart.
And only now, he finally recognizes his mistake; he took it too far. Tommy holds his breath when the world begins to shatter around him when Y/N stubbornly wipes the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, and the way she’s looking at him suddenly scares him to the bone. It fucking scares him.
Because here’s the thing; her eyes have always been holding so much love and care when she looked at him, always reminded him that he is loved by her no matter what. It felt good. It felt good to know that he could fall into her warm embrace at night, even if he murdered, slaughtered, fucking butchered innocent and doomed people to get what he wanted.
But now, her expression is unreadable. Unforgivingly empty and cold and he knows, Y/N must be thinking about leaving him. For good this time, because the way he spoke to her was unacceptable. He called her a whore, when she’s been living with him for months — taking care of Charlie like a loving mother, carrying the legal side of this company when he was too busy to do it himself. Hell, how many times did she tend to his wounds and clean his clothes when he came home in the earliest hours, bloody and bruised, without even uttering a word? Despite his rough exterior, she took care of him and did things Grace never cared to do. Even before he fell for her, when she was only a close family friend, she got her hands dirty to support them.
And he fucked it up. Again. Thomas sighs heavily, waiting for her to say something, anything —
Y/N chuckles lightheartedly before he can open his mouth to apologize for his harsh words. Amusement glints in her eyes and she shakes her head, a few curls slipping out of the tied knot at the back of her head. A smirk tugs at her lips, one that lets his blood rush down between his thighs. “No, honey. I’m your whore, because I gave you permission to have me.”
She gets up from her seat, nonchalantly pulling out a small mirror to check her perfect makeup. “I could have any man out there, Tommy. In fact, I could be sitting in a nice house somewhere in the countryside with a nice husband who doesn’t treat me like shit, watching over my own children, instead of the bastard son of a dead woman.” Y/N reapplies her bright red lipstick and tilts her head. “But I chose you.”
Slowly, she rounds the table. Her heels click over the wooden floor, hips swaying until she leans against the edge of his desk. “Do you know why I chose you? A lousy criminal who calls this shithole of Small Heath his kingdom?”
Tommy lifts his gaze and swallows thickly because suddenly, he understands what they’ve told him a million times at the Garrison. The stories his brothers had told him late at night about Y/N’s darker side, the side she’s never shown him and he never believed them because he’s known her since childhood and couldn’t even imagine her hurting someone. Now, he can.
A grin is tugging on her lips as she studies him with a look he can’t quite identify. Then, her hand pulls at the hem of her dress, dragging the fabric to expose the dagger strapped to her thigh. A warning, perhaps, for him to hold his tongue if he wants to keep his manhood.
“Because I only need to say one single word and you’re laying everything to my feet — Money, diamonds, good sex, the whole fucking world if I’d want it. I have you wrapped around my finger.” She leans down, harshly gripping his chin with two cold fingers and grazing her teeth over the shell of his ear before she whispers. “You’re my bitch, Thomas Shelby.”
And within a few seconds, Y/N has returned to the other side of his table. A sweet smile is dancing on her lips as she grabs her bag and smoothes out her dress. “Don’t come home until you’ve prepared a proper apology. Sex won’t do it this time, but I’m willing to consider that when you drag your sorry arse over my doorstep. Oh, and don’t forget every contract and every treaty you’ve been hiding from me.”
And then she’s gone, the faint trace of her expensive perfume the only evidence she’s ever been in his office. Thomas stares at her empty seat as her words run a second, no third time through his head. Hesitantly, he palms the visible bulge in his pants, groaning and cursing quietly when the friction isn’t enough to satisfy his hunger for her. He’s sure, he just fell in love with her all over again.
