Itās me again. I have another request, if youāre so inclined.
A drabble or headcanons about Tommyās reactions to the woman he has a love/hate relationship with tormenting him by leaving behind little signs that sheās been in his personal spaces. Ex.: she leaves her half-smoked cigarette with her lipstick ring in the ashtray at his seat in the snug, or he finds her hairpin on his desk, etc. Sheās doing this to flirtingly taunt him.
@lau219 Turned out longer than I meant it to. I hope this is close to what you had in mind! Thank you for your requests, babes! I love doing these š
1.7k words (not proofread, we die like men nevermind, Iām a chicken *bawk*)
Perhaps hiring on Adaās oldest and closest friend as his personal secretary wasnāt Thomasā best decision. What is it that they say about hindsight? Heād assumed that years of animosity couldāve been set aside in favor of some professionalism. What it is they say about assuming?
When Ada had mentioned that her friend was struggling to find work, he hadnāt really hesitated in offering her a position. She was practically family and Lizzie was now working in the office as well, so this would be fine. Ada, however, had been wary of the arrangement. Decades worth of petty quarreling isnāt something one sets aside overnight, but theyād both assured her that itād be fine. They could work together without issue. Ada gave it two months.
One thingās for certain, no one could accuse the woman of not being a hard worker. Within days of starting sheād had his files organized, appointments handled, and sheād even had Arthurās paperwork rewritten and refiled. She was quick-witted and even quicker on her feet, solving problems before they ever made their way to his desk. Even Polly found that she could relax more. Overall, she had become a great asset to the running of the office, and if the office ran well then the company could too. Basic maths.
Her work ethic and ability to do the jobs in front of her were not, in fact, the issue. It was her constant and incessant need to annoy, aggravate, and piss off Thomas Shelby. Perhaps hiring the woman who had also gotten under his skin since his youth had been a mistake. They constantly bickered, openly, at work. Sheād correct him in front of the family (not that this was new), but worst of all sheād go against him in front of his business associates. Namely, Alfie Solomons. Dealing with the bastard was bad enough, but Y/N had to add her input during meetings when she was meant to be taking notes. Often resulting in Solomons bursting into laughter and Thomas glaring daggers into his secretaryās skull.
There were other things sheād do purposefully, albeit nothing to warrant kicking her to the streets - yet. After an argument, if she felt sheād been particularly wronged, sheād bring him his tea as usual, but with something slightly off with it. Just small enough to not get a reprimand about. Itād be too hot or barely warm, too much honey or barely a teaspoon, or sheād use syrup instead. Just enough to let him know she was pissed off. Not that heād apologize. No, Thomas would simply finish it off as is or add a splash of whiskey like nothing was the matter.
However, he found himself unable to ignore the latest of her antics. At first, he truly thought he was losing it and was tempted to lay off the whiskey all together. It started small. A pen would be moved or misplaced, his whiskey would be in the cabinet instead of the cart, or a cigarette would be missing from his case. Then she got bolder. Thomas would sit in his chair and her perfume would violate his senses or her scarf would lay on his couch. Heād often find himself rolling his eyes before going about business as usual.
Not that he would admit it, but he found her little game more amusing when she began doing it outside of the office. Heād reenter the snug after speaking with Harry to find his glass of whisky half empty, an imprint of lipstick on the rim from the thief. Her shade. On those instances, heād press his lips to where hers had been and finish off the drink. Then heād found her cigarette bud in his ashtray at home, her lipstick standing out amongst the ash. Heād smirked at that one.
Despite everything, Ada turned out to be wrong. Her friend actually continued further at the company, seven months in before the first snowstorm hit. Now say what you want about the Shelby family, but they were not a cruel lot. When the streets filled with 25 mm of snow with no sign of stopping just past midday, they sent almost everyone home.
Thomas tossed his glasses onto his desk, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. Even with the radiators going, he could still feel the bitter cold seeping into his bones. He was the last in the building, even Polly having called it quits an hour ago. Deciding to do the same, lest he be snowed-into the damned building himself, he throws on his coat and scarf. Halting, however, when he steps from his office. Finding his secretary still at her desk, slightly shivering by the looks of it.
"Fuckin' hell", he mutters, "Why are you still here, eh?"
"Could ask the same of you", she points out, glancing up from her book, "Finally callin' it, are we?"
"Yeah, so get your things", he grunts, grabbing her coat and scarf from the hook, helping her put them on. Looking very displeased and put out as he does so with care.
"Almost gave up on you, you know. Thought you'd stay 'ere all night and I'd have to rally the lads to dig you out come morning", she mocks, as they make their way to the front door.
Tommy doesn't respond. They step out into the frigid air, and she curses under her breath. The snow has accumulated a bit more in the past few hours and the winds have picked up, biting bitterly at their cheeks. Quickly locking up, Thomas helps her to his car at the end of the street, grabbing ahold of her waist when her heels slip on the ice. He curses as they both sit on the ice-cold bench. There's a moment where the vehicle struggles to start and they both hold their breaths, but luckily the engine rumbles and rattles to life.
As Tommy veers onto the road, Y/N turns to start rummaging in the backseat and aggressively begins tugging a large quilt to the front. Glancing at her antics in annoyance, he grabs ahold of part of the fabric and gives it a sharp tug. Once satisfied that they've got all of it, she turns back in her spot and spreads the fabric over both of their laps. Looking down at the large quilt, Thomas narrows his eyes in confusion before glancing at the woman who was warming her hands to his side, then back again to the road.
"When the fuck did you hide this in here?", he finally asks.
"Back in August, after we got caught in the rain when your tire popped. I'm surprised you're just now noticing it. That's rather dangerous, Thomas. You should be more aware of your surroundings", her tone matter-of-factly.
Taking a breath, he looks over at her, incredulously, "Perhaps, love, you shouldn't fuck about in your employer's property".
Narrowing her eyes, she doesn't look away from the snowy roads ahead of them, "What an incredibly off-putting way of saying 'thank you', Thomas".
"Coming from the woman who could be freezing her arse off walking home".
Neither of them spoke for a moment after that, the silence not unpleasant. Just familiar.
"Why were you still at the office, Y/N", he finally asks, perturbed, "Even Polly left over an hour ago, she'd have given you a ride home".
Biting the inside of her cheek, she didn't necessarily want to tell him that she was worried about him getting home safely. The last thing she wanted was for Thomas Shelby to think that she cared about him or his well-being.
"It's bad form to leave before the boss does, everyone knows that", she rolls her eyes with a huff, "Besides, Pol lives the opposite direction from me. So, it would've just put her out".
The logic was shaky at best. Polly did technically live the opposite ways, but she was still closer than Thomas's place. Y/N's home wasn't on Thomas' route at all. Yet he always offered her a ride. Not so much with words, it was just an unspoken rule that if the weather was precarious or the evening was too late, Tommy would drive her. The other lads wouldn't even bother to offer, not if they valued the well-being of their own vehicles.
"Right", he decides to agree, biting back a smirk at her obvious horseshit.
Because of the icy conditions of the road and the way the winds were attempting to knock the car about, Thomas was forced to drive ridiculously slowly. Something that would've been comical on any other day. However, it just meant that they were stuck sitting it what was now an ice box for much longer. The last straw for her came when her teeth began the chatter, sliding across the bench and curling into Thomas' side. Her senses immediately assaulted by tobacco, ink, mint, cologne, and something that was just uniquely Tommy.
Instead of pushing her off or questioning her like she assumed he would, he took one hand off the steering wheel to wrap his arm around her, pulling her closer. Savoring her body heat as much as she was his and nothing else. Because he would deny enjoying the feeling of her body pressed against his or the smell of her shampoo, perfume, and something that was just so completely her, right under his nose. Absolutely not.
They sat like that for the rest of the drive. No banter, no arguing, no mocking jokes. Just them cuddled up for warmth. When they reached her flat, Thomas helped her from the car and walked her to the door. Once safely inside, Y/N watched him get back into the car and drive off, albeit at a higher speed than when they arrived. She made a mental note to call in an hour under the guise of making sure she didn't need to get John or Arthur to dig him out.
Thomas was halfway home and digging in his coat pocket for his cigarette case when he felt something silky wrapped in it. Keeping an eye on the road ahead of him, he pulls out the fabric and holds it up to see. In his hand he held up silky, cream-colored knickers, and there was only one woman they could belong to. Chuckling to himself, Tommy shoves them back into his pocket for safe keeping.
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@ennui-whimsy-and-me Gahhh! You know how much I love the puppieeeeessss!!!!
Hereās a little snippet from an upcoming sequel. Which piece is it a sequel to??? Iāll give you one guess. š
But itād been several weeks now since their lastā¦encounter, and Y/N hadnāt seen or heard from him since. Heād stopped coming by for his regular lunches, and given the fact that their acquaintance was anything but typical, they hadnāt exchanged numbers or any kind of contact info. Repeatedly, sheād been trying to convince herself that she didnāt care about him, that she wasnāt constantly hoping to see him again, and that he wasnāt the best sex sheād ever had.
She knew she was kidding herself, though.
What she didnāt know was that not only did he have her number (and every other piece of information about her), but he still had consistently been watching her, despite the fact that heād essentially disappeared since their last encounter. Heād forced himself to keep a physical distance from her, but he couldnāt resist still watching her, and it had taken more self-control than he could have ever previously credited himself with not to go to her again. He kept trying to convince himself that she meant nothing to him, that she wasnāt ruining his ability to focus on anything else, and that she wasnāt the best sex heād ever had.
Of course, every single one of those points was a total lie.
Hello darling, requesting headcanons/situational effects of Jonathan Crane being forced to share an office with a female colleague whom he can hardly tolerate but is also undeniably attracted to.
Please and thank you. š«¶
Thank you, babes! š
Oh, Johnnyā¦ forced proximity and he has a little crush š«¢ I hope you like it š š
(not proofreadā¦ we die like men)
ā¢ If one were to ask Dr. Crane how he felt about sharing his office, the term heād use would be pissed. Not the most technical of terms, but it summed his emotions up quite well. After all, why was it his problem that his colleagueās former office had a pipe leak? Surely she could work out of one of the break room, right? According to upper management, no.
ā¢ It took a full day to get everything transferred from her office to his and then set up. Well, everything that wasnāt water damaged. Truthfully, Jonathan wasnāt sure what annoyed him more, the fact that he was forced to share his space or the fact that his space was shared with toys. Out of all the offices to get a water leak, it had to be the office of a child psychologist. Her side of his once pristine space was now covered in animation posters, plushies, blankets, pillows, and varying fidget toys.
ā¢ In his (biased) opinion, the office now resembled a Toys R Us. It was ridiculous. She constantly had music playing, the entire roomed smelled like a cupcakeās ass (over exaggerated), and her wardrobe. Every day she showed up in the most unprofessional office attire heād ever seen. She reminded him greatly of Ms. Frizzle.
ā¢ And she was always chipper! Smiling at him like she didnāt have a care in the world, like he didnāt handle the most intensive patients in the city of Gotham. Wishing him a good morning upon arrival, and wishing him a āsuper duper eveningā upon departure. What adult human says that anyway?
ā¢ As irritating as he found her to be, that didnāt stop him from noticing her physical attributes. After all his colleague was an attractive woman, no one could argue that. The bereaved doctor occasionally let his eyes wander to the curve of her ass when she bent to pick up toys after her sessions. Or when he would be with his own patient, heād get a peek of her cleavage as she went through her notes.
ā¢ Her office repairs could not possibly come sooner. The whole distracting ordeal was driving him mad. If he had to work the rest of the year with the fish from Finding Nemo and her breasts staring at him, heād admit himself to Arkham.
ā¢ However, admittedly, she had been very polite, apologetic, and accommodating with his schedule when she arrived. She had even sat down with him to go over their upcoming patient appointments, and had even made a joint binder. As to not overlap future appointments. On days they were both in the office, sheād bring him a coffee and pastry from the cafe she goes to in the morning. And once, when his time ran over with a patient, she had went out and bought him lunch.
ā¢ Truthfully, if he was to be honest with himself, he found her to be very sweet. On a few occasions where he had to sit in the office to go over paperwork during her sessions, he found himself listening in. She was actually very good at what she did. Allowing the kids that came to her to vent their frustrations, offering solutions without sounding like she was telling them what to do, sounding more like an older friend them. Rather than a professional they were forced to visit.
ā¢ On those occasions, he would find himself reminiscing on his own childhood. The abuse from his peers and grandparents, and the neglect from his teachers who ignored his suffering. Heād never admit this, but on a few instances he found himself wondering how his life wouldāve if heād had someone like her to go to. Someone who listened and seemed to genuinely care.
ā¢ At some point, Jonathan stopped dreading coming in to work. He stopped sneering at the posters, stopped grimacing at the scent of vanilla, and started sharing in her greetings. It really wasnāt horrible, but he still asked about her office repairs daily. Making sure they were coming along smoothly, but if the inquiry turned into professional banter then so be it. And if that banter turned into extended conversations between patients and during lunch, well Dr. Crane was anything if not enduring.
ā¢ Now, however, he had a new problem. Between liking the sound of her laughter and wanting to how she sounds bent over his desk, he was distracted. Jonathan Crane does not enjoy distractions.
ā¢ Then thereās poor you. Finally, after weeks of trying to get the buildingās hard ass to warm up to you, heās suddenly turned back to Oscar the Grouch again! Heād slowly started to open up to you, he even started conversing with you! It was such a huge step! It had felt like the two of you could be friends or at least work buddies. You need to figure out what went wrong and fast. Being on Jonathan Craneās bad side was not something anyway wanted. Luckily, youāre very good with coming up with solutions.
ā¢ Little do you know that he already has a solution in mind.
I just finished some headcanons I had about Jonathan being sent to Arkham.
Jonathan Crane x Reader Headcanons
When Jonathan gets locked up in Arkham, he fully believes that youāll abandon him. Not because he believes that youāre unloyal, but because in his mind, āWhy would you stay?ā. Why would you put yourself at risk of danger and ridicule, for him? Because he is insecure and cynical, and he refuses to believe that someone would care that much for him. Heās not angry, but he does feel a strong bitterness for his predicament.
So, when he is brought into a visitation room to see who he expects to be a lawyer or a detective, he is surprised to see you.
Heāll sit there, not saying anything, as he studies you. The look of worry and relief that is written plainly across your face confuses him. However, heās not about to get his hopes up, so he gives you a smirk and asks if youāve come to say your final goodbyes to him.
He arches a brow when heās met with a simple, āDonāt be ridiculous, Jonathanā. When you start your questions of āAre you alright? How are they treating you? Is there anyone I can call? Can I bring you anything? What can I do?ā is when his walls crumble.
Because no one has ever shown him such concern or care. Not his neighbors when his grandparents abused him. Not his teachers when he was viciously bullied. But you do. You are sitting in front of him, fretting over him.
He wonāt verbalize or outwardly express the relief he feels that you arenāt abandoning him. Except how he looks at you. The way he watches you during the remainder of your visit can only be described as pure adoration and affection.
When the visiting hour ends and heās forced away from you, you hastily wrap your arms around him before the guards can tell you off. He melts. Still locked in his straitjacket, all he can do is lean into you and soak up your warmth. When your fingers tangle into his hair, he almost whines groans. All too soon he is dragged out and his mood quickly sours.
Two things happen that night. First, Jonathan finalizes his plans for escaping Arkham. Second, he decides on the kind of ring heās going to get you.
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Oh, if weāre sharing our Dr. Crane head canons - I have a few š @lau219
My personal head canons about Dr. Jonathan Craneā¦
ā¢ Is a total powerhouse, but is actually really insecure. Not that heād ever let anyone know. Except his s/o. But it takes a long time for him to let down his walls enough for them to get a glimpse of it.
ā¢ Despite not wanting anyone to see him like that, he prefers complete vulnerability from his partner. Craves it even. He sees it as the highest form of intimacy and control.
ā¢ If Jonathan completely trusts you, he will actively seek out comfort from you. Will open up to you about things that he would kill others for knowing.
ā¢ Despite what some may think, Jonathan actually enjoys PDA. Now, donāt expect to be sitting on his lap and making out. But handholding, hugs, and a peck on the lips or cheek are all welcomed.
ā¢ Because of the neglect and abuse he experienced throughout his younger years (canon) he is very touch starved and craves affection. But he will never ask for it. Ever. Heād rather you come to him, which plays into his need for control. But, also because he wants to feel wanted and needed.
ā¢ So if youāre alone at home or in his office, feel free to drape yourself over him. Heāll love it. He wonāt say so, but heāll pull you closer and bury his face in your neck. Just soaking in your warmth and scent, everything he associates with home.
ā¢ He will not say āI love youā first. Because he wants to be sure that you love and are devoted to him first. The fear of your rejection is not something he handles well.
ā¢ If he knows that he loves you and that he completely trusts you, he will tell you. He is not subtle. Donāt expect sonnets, but he will absolutely tell you how heād commit atrocities over you.
ā¢ Does perform experiments on you without your knowledge or consent. Nothing thatāll actually hurt you, but things he believes will help to better take care of you. He absolutely puts a micro dose of fear toxin in your coffee at some point. Just to see if your greatest fear is something he can work to help you over come, or at least something he can protect you from.
ā¢ When it comes to sex, he wants as much contact as possible. He also wants to see your face the entire time. Wants to see and hear how heās making you feel. So any positions that allow this, you will be in.
ā¢ The only exception is when you visit him in his office and he just canāt resist bending you over his desk. Heāll probably shove your panties in your mouth to keep you quiet then. He is at work after all, and he needs to be professional.
ā¢ Definitely has a bondage kink. He loves the feeling of power and control he gets from having you tied up and vulnerable for him. He also loves that you trust him enough to let him do what he wants with you.
ā¢ Has fucked you on examination tables before. Especially ones with stirrups.
ā¢ If you want to hear him moan, call him āsirā.
ā¢ If you want him to come in seconds, call him āDoctorā.
ā¢ Hates religion and therefore anything associated with it. So donāt expect him to get into the āholly jolly spiritā. Heās not an ass though, you will get a present if you insist on celebrating.
ā¢ The first gift he gets from you (whether itās birthday, holiday, special occasion, or just because) you donāt get a big reaction. Heās very polite and tells you that he likes and appreciates your gift, but then itās back to work. Only because heās trying desperately not to get choked up and emotional in front of you. Because itās the first gift heās gotten since he was a very small child.
(( Honestly this turned into word vomit. I was just gonna post the first 4 but then I kept going š¤¦āāļø ))
ā¢ Emmett is a simple and, more often than not, practical man. Heās not fancy or over the top with things like ājust becauseā gifts and dates. No, anything from him comes from the heart - not the wallet.
ā¢ When he decides itās been too damn long since heās spent quality time with his girl - without the boys being involved - he gets to work.
ā¢ The first thing he does is make sure that your schedules are clear for a weekend. Because this man isnāt going to be satisfied with just one night with you.
ā¢ The second thing he does is send his boys off for that weekend, so they wonāt walk in on interrupt the two of you. Luckily his parents volunteer to take them, his dad offering his sons a trip to the lake.
ā¢ Again, this man does not do fancy or expensive. Heās not cheap, just practical. Heāll save a date to an expensive restaurant for your anniversary or another special occasion.
ā¢ What he does do is he comes home a bit earlier than usual and gets to work. He starts by cleaning up around the house, making sure toys are put away, counters are clean, floor is swept, etc.
ā¢ And personal maintenance. Itās nothing major he needs to do, the manās not a heathen. He just tidies up his appearance a bit - takes extra care with his nails, showers, shaves, and puts on that cologne you got him.
ā¢ Heās already informed you that you have the house to yourselves all weekend. He thought it might startle you a little to come home and find the boys gone.
ā¢ So when you do get home, the lack of two noisy boys isnāt want surprises you.
ā¢ Itās the fact that the house is practically spotless, brand new jars of your favorite scented candles are burning, thereās music playing somewhere, and a mouth watering aroma is wafting from the kitchen.
ā¢ After youāve changed and Emmett has set the table, he pours you a glass of your favorite wine and the two of you sit down together.
ā¢ Itās nice - really, really nice. Emmett doesnāt cook a lot, but what he does cook itās always so good.
ā¢ So you sit there, eating and laughing and enjoying each otherās company. And it feels so amazing to spend time together like this, just basking in each otherās presence. Relaxed.
ā¢ The entire night, Emmett looks at you like you are the sun, the moon, and every star. Because to him, you are. He knows thatās cheesy to say, but it really is true. And he tells you that throughout the night. How much he loves you, appreciates you, and adores you.
ā¢ He really wants you to know how much you mean to him.
ā¢ He also really wants you to know how much he wants to spread you out on that table and
cw : heavy male petting/groping, sexual acts in public, & longer than intended
Y/N's POV
20 minutes.
20 fucking minutes was how long it took before Y/N had the urge to lunge at Maurice Fischer from across the table.
The senior Fischer demanded this small dinner at a very extravagant restaurant to take up more of Robert and Y/N's alone time, only to discuss a promising partnership with a quickly uprising business executive. All of which she was certain could've taken 15 minutes at the office earlier that day. She knew that he had done this on purpose as she was not shy about her disdain for her father-in-law. However, she had graciously agreed to bite her tongue and try to keep the dinner civil. Her husband was already stressed from work, and he just wanted to get this over without a hitch.
It had started decent enough, but then that vile old prune started with his jabs towards Robert which had her clenching her jaw so hard that she thought she'd heard a crack. By the time their entrees arrived, she could see from the corner of her eye just how tense he'd become. Y/N hated how Maurice talked to him, as if he were nothing. Like his existence was a nuisance. Especially when Robert meant everything to her.
The hand she placed onto his thigh was only meant to comfort him, rubbing her thumb back and forth to soothe his nerves. It worked for a while, until Maurice insisted on more drinks after their plates were taken away.
Internally groaning, Y/N began slowly moving her hand up and down his thigh. When she unintentionally reached the top his thigh near his groin, she got a little idea. Instead of moving her hand away, she began to slowly but firmly massage his upper thigh. She stayed in that area for a moment before moving her ministrations farther up and onto his inner thigh.
Robert's POV
Robert was tense for an entirely different reason now as he felt her massage his thigh, so close to where he really wanted her. The dinner was just an exhausting reminder of why he didn't willingly do this regularly. Instead, preferring time with his wife or in-laws. He'd been grateful when he'd first felt her rub his thigh, using it to ground himself. But now he could feel his cock twitch and harden in his slacks.
If only she knew how much he wanted her hand to wrap around his growing girth. With them at dinner, he was certain it would be far too inappropriate to move her hand. So, he was caught off guard when her palm covered him and gave him a gentle squeeze.
Robert had to bite back a moan as she began to slowly massage him through his pants. Glancing over at his little minx, she had a look of tired disinterest as she listened to his father complain about the slow service. Even though the waitress had only been gone a few minutes to get him his third scotch.
He was brought back by her hand giving him a firm squeeze, forcing him to bite the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. At some point, Robert spread his legs a bit so she could get a better hold on him. Instead of doing so, she continued rubbing over his now fully hard cock and going down further to graze his balls.
'Fuck me, just finish your damn drink', he thinks, wanting to leave as soon as possible.
Y/N's POV
Y/N did her best to keep her expressions neutral, biting back a smirk when Robert manspread for her. When Maurice demanded the checks from the poor waitress, she heard her husband sigh in relief. However, when she suddenly moved her hand back to her own lap, he looked over at her as if she'd slapped him. Sending him a wink while taking a final sip of her wine, she enjoyed watching as his gaze darkened.
