#thomas thorne x reader
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Thomas Thorne x Reader
Maybe it was one too many shows you’d watched about flipping houses, but when Alison had called and asked if you wanted to help restore the historical house she’d inherited, you were on the next train.
It hasn’t been easy, with the countless setbacks you all seem to be encountering, but you all persist anyway. The biggest shock was after Alison came home from the hospital and started seeing ghosts, obviously you and Mike were a little lost at first, but it’s become a part of the routine at this point. Although you do both occasionally pout that you don’t get to see to them too. You still talk to them since you know they can hear you, you just can’t ever be sure if you’re taking in the right direction.
The ghosts will interact with you on occasion, usually Julian moving something next to you or typing on your laptop, the occasional cold gust of air or that prickly ‘something just brushed by you’ sensation.
But when you bring this up to Mike he seems confused.
“What d’you mean? Julian, yeah, but I’ve never had any of the other stuff happen,” he frowns.
“Huh, maybe I’m just imagining things,” you tell him, but you’re definitely going to ask Alison.
You find her in the kitchen on her laptop with papers spread around her, but she doesn’t seem to be getting much work done.
“Hey, quick ghost question?” You ask, settling down in the next chair. You don’t realize, but Kitty, Thomas, and Pat are gathered around behind you and they perk up at this. Alison gestures for you to go on so you explain what you’ve been feeling in the house.
“Huh, that’s strange,” she says slowly and you figure the ghosts must be talking when she stares past you, nodding. You wait while she has a brief conversation with the ghosts.
Unbeknownst to you, Thomas has been spouting poetry about you since the day you showed up, and today is no exception as he paces behind you, gesturing grandly as he goes. He doesn’t notice, but one of his hands grazes your neck and you shiver.
“See, there it was again!” You gasp, rubbing your neck where it tingles.
“Interesting,” she laughs as Thomas freezes, looking shocked.
“Oh I want to try!!” Kitty squeals, promptly trying to touch you. She shakes her head vehemently, hand over her mouth as the usual nauseous feeling occurs.
“Must just be you then, mate,” Pat tells Thomas who is still frozen in shock.
“Go on, try again,” Alison encourages the empty air behind you and you wait for the feeling again. Thomas reaches out with a shaking hand, fingers lightly brushing your arm.
“Can they all do that?” You ask, shivering again at the feeling of ghostly fingertips against your skin.
“No.. just Thomas,” Alison smirks as Thomas’ cheeks flame red.
“Huh,” you murmur, “interesting.”
This revelation doesn’t change much in your daily life, other than you giving the occasional “Hello, Thomas” with a smile when you feel him touch you. It’s always very polite, just a tap on your shoulder or a touch to your hand to let you know he’s there. Occasionally you talk to him even though you can’t see or hear him, just telling him about your day. One day Alison sees you doing this and she swears she’s never seen Thomas sit so still and calm, staring at you with rapt attention as you speak. She notices after this that Thomas’ insistent wooing towards her has entirely stopped, in favor of being in the same room as you. She’s certainly not going to question it, lest he start up on her again.
Thomas finds you in the library one day, eyes roaming the titles of different books. He watches as your fingers trace along the spines as you decide which to choose. He tells you his favorites even though he knows you can’t hear him, and his heart soars when you pick up a Regency era novel. One he’s read!
You’ve always had Pride and Prejudice on your list of books you wanted to read, you just hadn’t gotten to it yet. Suddenly you feel a rapid series of taps against your hand.
“Hello, Thomas,” you smile, looking towards where you think he must be.
“What was all that about? Is this a bad choice?” You ask, before you realize he can’t answer you.
“Hm.. how about you tap once for yes and twice for no?” You ask him, waiting for a response. A single tap against your hand makes you smile.
“Perfect! Is this a bad choice?” You ask, receiving two taps.
“Oh, so that was excitement then? Because it’s a good choice?” One tap. You laugh.
“Would you like the read it with me?” You ask and he responds with one tap.
He longs to be able to respond with more than just a yes or no. To tell you that he thinks it’s a marvelous choice, a book he’d liked very much when he was alive, and that he’d love nothing more than to read it with you, but he supposes a simple yes will have to do.
You settle into the plush couch, assuming that he’s sat beside you, and flip open the book.
“Let me know when I should flip the page,” you tell him, and he responds with a tap. You like this new little method of communication you’ve come up with, but you do wish you could actually talk to him.
Thomas spends his time watching you as you read, tapping your hand when it seems like you’re finished with the page. He can’t seem to focus on the words, instead watching your expressions when you read. The way your nose crinkles when something is funny, or how your eyes widen when you’re surprised.
“Mr. Bingley seems sweet,” you murmur, almost to yourself. This thrills Thomas, as he knows he’s much more like Bingley than Darcy. After all, aloof and stoic are certainly not words anyone would use to describe Thomas Thorne.
This becomes a ritual for the two of you, reading the book together a few chapters at a time whenever you get a chance. But the list of projects that need to get done sooner rather than later has certainly gotten longer, and it’s been a while since you’ve gotten to read with Thomas. Especially with the hopeful wedding bookings, you’ve all been busier than ever trying to quickly get the house in order. Today the ghosts are driving Alison mad while you and Mike are trying desperately to clear the garden for the potential wedding client that Martin is bringing back this afternoon. Alison has briefly distracted them with the laptop, buying you some time to get some work done before another ghost interruption.
This is short lived however, when Alison tells Mike to stop digging, clearly having a conversation with one of the ghosts. They go back and forth until she suggests clearing the other side of the garden. You both groan, knowing that’s definitely the worst side of the garden, but you head over there anyway. After an hour, both you and Mike are sweating up a storm and you decide to take a break. You both shed your layers that are starting to get too hot and Mike hands you a cola, making you laugh when he opens his and it explodes a bit.
Little do you know Fanny has been watching him the entire time, and tucked in a doorway (hidden even from Fanny) Thomas has been watching you, mouth agape. He runs away with a squeak when you lift up the hem of your shirt to wipe the sweat from your brow.
You all figure you’ll just pile up the waste to deal with later and continue to clear the garden now. After more of the branches are cleared, you discover a statue hidden amongst the brush.
“How are we going to move that?!” Alison gapes. Mike suggests breaking it up but none of you really like the idea and suddenly Alison starts talking to a ghost and from what you can hear, you’re pretty sure that’s out of the question now anyway. Alison’s conversation with the ghosts provides a bit of a rest before you have to figure out how to move the statue. All three of you try different ways of lifting it, but even with all of you it’s far too heavy. Mike kicks the stone in frustration and immediately falls over in pain. You laugh at their arguing before flopping down on the ground next to them in defeat. You all lay there in mutual misery for awhile before Alison breaks the silence you’re wallowing in.
“I’m so done with this,” she groans.
“No, you know what? We’ve cleared loads! I’ll get rid of the garden waste and we’ll make the best of it,” Mike rallies and you and Alison agree. You help her up off the ground before she’s promptly pulled into another ghost conversation. You watch as Mike lights the branches you’d cleared up into a bonfire to get rid of them and help him toss more on the pile. Suddenly Alison is shouting at you both to get back, and you see Mike running before it sinks in that you need to run as well. You’re slower than Mike, a small piece of debris hitting you in the head and knocking you down. Once you hit the ground you cover your head, just in case anything else might still be flying.
“Oh my god!” You hear Alison shout, her footsteps running toward you.
“Are you alright?!” She helps you off the ground, your other hand clutched to your head where it throbs.
“Brilliant,” you groan. You open your eyes but the light seems so blindingly bright, you’re instantly covering them with your hand.
“I’m alright, just take me inside. Get through this first, then we’ll worry about me, I’m okay I promise,” you tell her. She doesn’t sound convinced, but she leads you inside anyway.
“Somewhere dark,” you add, “my head is splitting.”
She sits you down on the sofa in the library, turning the lights off before she leaves. You crack an eye open and blessedly, the only light is from the dim rays of sun coming through the mostly closed curtains. Alison runs back in to hand you an ice pack before going to deal with Martin. You press the pack to your head and it relieves the worst of the throbbing quickly, but you still keep your eyes shut against the light. You briefly spare a thought to hope that Mike has figured out something to do in the garden before Alison returns, but you’re distracted by the feeling of a hand joining yours on the couch.
“Hello Thomas,” you murmur, turning your hand over so your palms press together. You know it must be him.
“My beloved, I sincerely hope you are not too greviously injured,” he laments and you freeze. Slowly you pull the ice pack away from your head and crack your eyes open and gape at the sight before you. The fact that there is anything in front of you to see at all is a wild change from what you’ve become used to. Thomas- your Thomas, sitting here in front of you.
“Thomas,” you breathe, speechless at actually seeing him.
“You- You can see me?” He gasps, eyes cartoonishly wide. You take in his features slowly, memorizing them in case this is something that might go away when your head clears up. The pretty brown of his eyes, the shape of his nose, the dimple in his chin, his curls that make you want to reach out and touch. Before you realize, you’re doing just that. His eyes slip closed as your fingers lightly card through his curls. He leans into the touch like an oversized cat and you can’t help but smile at his reaction. You continue to take in the sight of him, feeling the silky fabric of his cravat and tracing along the brocade pattern of his waistcoat before you catch sight of his wound. Your eyebrows furrow, eyes filling with sadness at the sight. He takes your hand, pulling your focus back to his face as he looks up at you from under his eyebrows, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.
“I apologize, I know it is not a pleasant sight to behold,” he sighs, eyes averted.
“It really doesn’t bother me,” you tell him and he looks surprised, “I’m just sorry it happened to you.”
“If you’re sure,” he concedes, but you can see the hint of a smile on his face.
“Hey, we can finish our book together now,” you smile, and he flushes.
“O-oh, yes,” he stutters and you frown.
“I mean we don’t have to,” you backtrack, but he stops you.
“No! I mean yes, I would very much like to, but I must admit, having read the book and knowing it quite well, I find my attention straying to a more intriguing subject than words,” he confesses.
“Oh,” you bite your lip to hide your smile, cheeks coloring at his confession, “I distract you that much?”
“She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld,” he quotes Bingley and you can’t help the smile that overtakes your face.
“You’re different than I imagined,” you tell him and he starts to look nervous before you clarify, “Better.”
The shock of seeing him has worn off a bit and you can feel your head pounding again.
“Are you quite well?” He asks as you clench your eyes shut again.
“My head still hurts, can we- here,” you arrange his limbs so you can lay back against him and rest your head on his shoulder. He flounders with his hands for a moment before you take them in yours, wrapping his arms around your middle.
“Is this okay?” You ask, putting the ice pack back against your head.
“I- yes, I’ve just never been so… intimate with someone,“ he sounds embarrassed but it makes you smile.
“Do you like it?” You ask, “if it’s too much that’s okay.”
You go to move away but his arms tighten around you.
“No! No, it’s… nice,” he says and you smile.
“Nice,” you laugh, relaxing into him. You let your eyes flutter shut, the ice pack helping the now dull throbbing on your head immensely.
You know you’ll have lots of questions to answer when Alison finds the two of you, but for now you’re content to just relax in Thomas’ arms.
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Reunion | Thomas Thorne | BBC Ghosts
no.23: Forced to watch (I took this quite liberally)
There was many quirks to being dead. There was the fact that you could walk through walls but could be seated on furniture. Or the fact that nobody with a pulse could see you but sometimes, if you were lucky, you were gifted with an extra ability. The one that plagued (Y/N) the most though was the face that she could not leave the grounds of which she died upon.
She had died in Button house, or as it was known then Higham House, when on a visit with her husband, she had suddenly take ill. He husband had gone to fetch for a doctor but by the time he had returned with help, she had already passed. Her first memory of being dead was watching her husband weep over her still warm body.
It had not taken long for the other spirited residents of the house to learn of their new peer. Mary and Kitty tried to console her, especially when (Y/N) saw Humphrey’s detached head. Robin simply observed her for a while. But even as she, rather quickly, made peace with her untimely demise, there was a feeling that she couldn’t shake.
The feeling grew stronger and stronger as the days passed, until eventually she found herself walking into the main parlour room of the house where she was greeted by a crowd observing an argument.
Instantly she recognised the voices. One belonging to her husband’s ghastly cousin, Francis Button. He was a vile man, and not one she could tolerate for very long. Despite the many times he had tried to worm his way into her life , she always dreaded his visits. The last she saw him was in the day she died, where he had offered her tea; being free of him was one of the few things she welcomed in death.
Stood across from him was her husband. Standing tall and proud, Thomas rebutted something Francis had said. (Y/N) wasn’t quite sure. But she didn’t mind. She had not seen Thomas since he had found her still body upstairs.
(Y/N) heard ringing in her ears as the minutes seemed to pass like seconds. She couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. Instead she just followed the crowds as they made their was outside.
She stood, frozen in place as Thomas and Francis stood opposite to one another. She wanted to turn away but her legs felt stuck. The speed of what happened was to fast to comprehend. One second they were back to back, ready to duel and then next had a bullet launched into Thomas’ side.
(Y/N) rushed down to his crumpled form, reaching a hand out to only have it go through her chest. She closed her eyes, trying to get the image of him bloody from her mind. “Oh Thomas, my love.” She cried out, despite having nobody to hear.
“My darling flower?”
(Y/N) whipped her head up to the voice. Beside the corpse of her husband stood his spirit. He looked shaken, understandably so. “Thomas.”
“You’re dead. You died… how are you here?” Thomas said, frantically looking around before his eyes made contact with the corpse on the ground. “Oh.”
“I can explain everything.”
“No need,” Thomas looked back at his wife with a melancholy smile. “I have you again, darling. The rest will come as it may.”
Masterlist | Whumptober Masterlist
@ailesswhumptober
#thomas thorne#thomas thorne x reader#Thomas Thorne imagine#matthew baynton#ghosts#bbc ghosts#chiefdirector#ailesswhumptober2023
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what would you do, if you only knew (that i can see you)
thomas thorne x ghost hunter+fem!reader (set during season 2 episode 1)
synopsis: being able to see ghosts for most of your life almost seemed to force you into being a ghost-hunter of sorts (not that your boss is actually good at his job), it’s only on a trip to button house and a reunion with an old friend from your student days that your ability actually comes into use after a run in with a particularly dashing ghost
a/n: this is massively inspired by the song i can see you by taylor swift, the plot just came into my head after listening to it and here we are, it was meant to fulfil one of the requests i’ve been sent but it went so far from the prompt that i decided to make it a separate fic and do another fic for the prompt
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If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re not sure how you ended up in the ghost hunting business. It’s not something you even thought was a real job when you were a kid, it seemed like something you'd see people doing in the cartoons you watched. It was only after a close call when you were a teenager that almost killed you that you realised that you could see ghosts.
It made living in London quite difficult, the sheer amount of people who’s spirit hadn’t moved on was difficult to deal with but you managed to set yourself up with the so-called Ghostmaster General and it gave you a steady stream of work going round the country with him seeing if the buildings were actually haunted or not. You’d never explicitly said you could see ghosts to your employer but you could express enough knowledge that he kept choosing you to go on the trips. When photos of a grey lady surfaced on Facebook and Twitter from a mansion in Hemel Hempstead your boss had called on you immediately to join him on the trip.
Button House didn’t seem to be any different than the countless other manor houses you’d seen over the past few years. It's in a worse state of repairs than you're used to but aside from that it seems like every other fake haunted house you've visited. You’d left your boss to sort out whether you were being allowed inside the house, not wanting to drag the many bags of equipment to the front gates if you were going to have to just bring them back to the van. It’s only when he gives you the go-ahead to go and start setting equipment up inside that you grab a few bags and make your way towards the entrance.
It's with a jolt of surprise that you realise you recognise one of the owners of the house. You’d been friends with Alison at university until the two of you had both finished your degrees and parted ways, keeping in touch only to wish each other a happy birthday or similar milestones.
“Alison, hey!” The woman looked your way at her name, and her face bloomed into a confused smile when her eyes fell on you.
“Hey! Oh my god!” She pulled you into a hug as soon as you were within arms reach and you did your best to reciprocate without hitting her with the equipment bag slung over your shoulder.
“This is your house?”
“Yeah, well it was my great-step-aunt’s house and I inherited it when she died.”
“That’s amazing! Much easier than trying to get lucky with London real estate.”
“So how did you end up doing this?” Alison gestures vaguely to the bag pulled across your shoulder. It’s all you can do to shrug your shoulders lightly, trying to look as blasé as possible as you readjust the strap before it starts to slip down.
“It pays the bills.”
You couldn’t help but notice how nervous Alison was about the whole situation she’d found herself in but you chalked it up to nerves about having so many strangers in her home and didn’t think to push it. She’s kind enough to give you directions up to one of the rooms near the attic that your boss has assigned for the thermal camera currently resting against your shoulder. You agree to a cup of tea and a catch up before making your way to the room.
Everything was going normally with the equipment setup until you suddenly heard a voice shouting down a corridor. It immediately pulled your attention from the camera you were setting up, your eyes trained on the closed door to the room you're in waiting to hear footsteps approaching. When silence lay steady, your focus returned back to the camera.
It takes a great deal of self-control to try not to flinch when a figure suddenly comes through the closed door. You try not to let your eyes flicker away from the camera but can’t help but quickly scan the figure. It’s not the grey ghost you saw in the pictures, the man is dressed like a scout for some reason and the only abnormal thing about him is the arrow sticking out of his neck. You can’t help but wince slightly at that, what a terrible way to go. The ghost is talking to himself apparently in a thick northern accent or that’s what you assumed until another ghost steps through the door.
It takes everything within you to not stare at this ghost. He’s clearly from a few hundred years ago based on his attire but he might be the most beautiful man you’re ever laid eyes on. He was mid-sentence when he walked through the door saying something about finding the others but his voice trailed off when he looked in your direction.
“But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and you are the sun.” The way his voice carries the words is nothing short of reverent and you can practically feel the embarrassment rushing through your body. It's not the first time a ghost has found you attractive but normally they're plague victims or half-mad, they don't normally look as though they've just stepped away from a recreation of Pride and Prejudice.
“Thomas! It's not polite to stare.” The scout almost looks apologetic which is quite sweet given that there’s no way he can know that you can see him but his words have done nothing to deter Button House’s version of Mr Darcy.
“And yet we hang the most beautiful paintings ever created in galleries so that the masses may gaze upon their beauty. Would you deny me a similar experience Pat?”
As nice as it is to have someone speak about you like that, you’re aware that it’s going to be very difficult to get through the night if you have a ghost following you and all but swooning over you. Part of you wonders if you could try and feign being sick but also you know how one-track minded your boss will be about this house and there’s no way he’ll be willing to leave to drive you into the nearest town to get a train back to London.
You hear the familiar sounds of the camera as it’s finally finished setting up facing the door and, as you expected, shows no sign of any heat signatures. You decide to leave your other bag in the room for now, choosing instead to go and find Alison. The two ghosts are mid-debate as to whether it’s polite to stare at someone who doesn’t know they’re being stared at as you walk over to the door.
It’s with slightly shaking hands that you twist the handle on the door, opening it as calmly as possible as you try to remember your way out of the house. You can hear the ghosts talking in the room and the voices don’t seem to be getting any further away but the only cohesive thought in your mind is that you have to track down Alison and ask her what she knows about the house.
“Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Alison laughs nervously at her joke but it does nothing to relax you.
“I need to speak to you.”
“Okay?”
“Outside.” Alison must see something in your expression that worries her because she allows you to take her by the arm and gently leads you to the front door. It's only when the front door is closed behind you and you can't see anyone dead or alive around that you find your anxiety easing. When you stop moving, you make sure to have your back to the front door, if only to put yourself at ease.
“Are you okay?” You’re about to speak when a voice cuts through the silence.
“Alison! You must reveal the name of this fair maiden at once! Her beauty outshines the sun in a way I never believed possible up until this very moment.” You have to give credit to Alison, she's very good at hiding the flinch when a voice suddenly appears from through the front door. It's only from a lifetime of doing something similar that you catch it, and you watch her eyes darting to something behind you before looking back towards you.
“Sorry, did you say something?” To give Alison credit, her voice only wavers slightly after the interruption. Maybe it’s unfair of you but when you speak, you make sure to do so in a quieter tone than you would normally. You have to be sure that she can see and hear him before you say anything and if you can make it harder for her to hear you under the loud gushing of the ghost then you’ll do what you can.
“I think there’s something upstairs.” You try to pay close attention to any reactions that Alison has to your comment but it’s very difficult once the ghost appears by your side. Up close he really is gorgeous. It’s almost a shame he’s dead because if you saw him in public you’d want his number in a heartbeat. It’s very hard to not let your eye wander in his direction, especially when he’s so close to you. He hasn’t stopped talking since he appeared through the door and whilst you’re more than used to a chatty ghost, you can see that Alison is getting more and more distracted by him.
“Alison! I must insist you express how ardently I admire this fair lady immediately or I shall never give you a moment of peace!” The threat, however serious he is about it, seems to be the final breaking point for your friend, whose face shoots in his direction.
“Thomas, stop talking for one second!” Even the ghost seems surprised by her outburst, staring at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. She catches her mistake in an instant, staring at you with an almost mortified expression as she waits for your reaction.
“I’m guessing you have more than two ghosts here then?”
“What?” Alison’s voice is tentative, like she’s waiting for you to either laugh in her face or run away screaming. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“I can see them too.”
“What?!” You don’t blame Alison for being surprised, it’s not something you ever told her during your time as students, not even when you had both had a bit too much to drink and your secrets spilled easily. You’d learned early into your time seeing ghosts that telling people the truth was a quick way to alienate yourself from friends and peers alike. It was much easier to lie and say you were just an anxious person by nature who startled easily than to explain that you flinched every time you saw a particularly gruesome looking ghost.
“Sorry for not telling you. Pat seems really nice.”
“Oh my god.” A beat passes as the news sinks in, and then another wave of acceptance seems to reach Alison and with it comes another shout. “Oh my god! You can hear him?” She points in Thomas’ direction and the ghost in question has the good grace to look somewhat mortified by the idea you’ve spent the past thirty minutes listening to him regale you with compliments that he thought you couldn’t hear.
“I can.” For a ghost that’s just spent the better part of an hour showering you with compliments, he suddenly seems unable to string a sentence together. It’s easy to put him out of his misery though. “You’re very handsome by the way. I’m very flattered.” His face goes red at the compliment and, for the first time since he appeared in front of you, he seems genuinely speechless. Alison seems to be in a similar state.
“Does your boss know?”
“Absolutely not! I didn’t want to spend most of my adult life being ridiculed for something no one would ever believe to be true. Have you told anyone?”
“Mike knows. Kind of hard not to tell him with so many of them.” Mike is quickly making his way into your good books with everything you hear about him and you make a mental note to buy him a nice bottle of wine for being such a supportive husband.
“How many have you got?”
“Too many.” You let out a soft noise of consideration before turning to the still shocked ghost standing beside you.
“Would you introduce me to your friends?” Thomas seems to snap out of his shock at your request, bowing slightly and extending a hand in your direction. It’s a sweet gesture even though both of you know you can’t physically take his hand.
“It would be my pleasure.”
“I’ll uh, catch up with you later?”
“You might want to worry about the twenty-something ghost hunters running amok in your house first.” Alison pales slightly at the reminder of what situation has brought the three of you to where you currently are.
“Oh god. I need to go and find Mike.” Your friend is quick to dash back inside her house, leaving the door open for you and Thomas to follow her. Manly you, since he could just phase through the door again.
“Shall we Lady-uh…” It’s only in that moment that you realise Alison never actually told Thomas your name and you’re quick to correct that.
“(Y/N).” You supply.
“Lady (Y/N).”
“We shall.” Thomas walks towards the house first, waiting just beyond the door for you to follow him. Your only thought as you walk through the door is that you hope you don’t run into your boss for the next thirty minutes or so otherwise you might have some explaining to do.
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Bingley Is the One|Thomas Thorne x Reader
A/N: I hope this is good and people like it cause it took me forever to write… Requests open!
"Thomas, what are you talking about? Bingley is obviously better than Mr. Darcy!" This is so stupid. I can't even believe that we are having this argument, but Thomas just has to be persistent. Of course he would say that Darcy is better; he has been acting just like him!
"Darcy is clearly better! He's much more sophisticated and mysterious than Bingley. Plus, he gets the girl," he argues. Really? That's his point?
"That is so stupid, Thomas. Bingley gets the girl too! You know what? I am done with this conversation, it is pointless," I exclaim before I storm out. I really wish I could slam doors right now. It just makes me so angry! What is wrong with him?! Does he have to be so annoying? I finally reach my room, for once glad that I do not have to change or get ready for bed. With a sigh, I tiredly plop into bed and fall asleep for the night.
I wake up with a yawn and look over to the bedside table. The antique clock on top of it tells me that I overslept. Allison would be having breakfast by now, so I need to hurry because if I do not, I will miss talking to her before she leaves for work.
Allison has been a massive help as of late. She has been listening to me complain about how Thomas has been acting and offering me advice, though it hasn't gotten us anywhere. I smile as I enter the dining room, "Good morning, Allison!" I look around to see no other ghosts bothering Allison this morning. That's perfect. I can talk to her in solitude.
"Good morning," Allison greets, "you're unusually chipper."
"Oh, you know me! A great nights rest after yet another futile argument with Thomas," I retort. Allison sighs and gives me a dejected look as she pours her cup of coffee. "I do not get it, Allison. What ever happened to the old Thomas! That one was just fine! He was nice and considerate. Now this one is trying to say that Darcy is better than Bingley."
She shrugs, "Well everyone is entitled to their own opinion."
"But that is the thing! I heard him talking to Julian about how he liked Bingley more than Darcy. So, why is he lying to me? Is he just trying to start an argument?" I sit in the pulled-out chair with a frown, crossing my legs.
Allison sits across from me with her coffee and breakfast. Oh, how I wish I could eat breakfast. "Hm, that is weird. What's weirder is that he was talking to Julian, of all people, about Pride and Prejudice. I don't know, something is off."
I shake my head, "Is it me? What made him change?"
"No! Of course it's not you. You haven’t done anything but be kind. Well, before he changed… But at the same time, I'm not sure what caused this. Maybe I can ask Julian." She's finished her breakfast now, her chair screeching as she stands up to put her dish in the sink.
I give her a small smile, "Thank you, Allison. You are a big help. I guess you have to go to work now, huh?" She cocks her head with a thin smile and a hum, as if to apologize for having to leave. I walk her to the door, as she makes me promise to update her on the situation when she gets home.
I sigh as I head to the family room. Right before I reach the door, I hear Thomas' voice, which makes me hesitate. Do I really want to deal with another fight this early in the morning? I am already upset about the entire situation. In my moment of hesitation, I realize that Thomas is whispering to Julian. Why is he whispering? There is no harm in listening in, right?
"I don't know, mate, but that's on you. Just go up to her and kiss her or something, everyone knows that you like her," Julian teases. I feel my heart drop. Who are they talking about?
"Are you crazy? Don't say that," Thomas whisper-yells.
"Just talk to her. She doesn't bite," Julian jokes.
"You don't know that, " Thomas replies seriously, "You've clearly never had an argument with her." Oh. They are talking about me. I think I will just go now, maybe to the lake. Thomas may have that window as his sighing place, but the lake is mine. It's so calming to watch the waves.
Why am I disappointed that Thomas does not like me? I should know that by now. I mean, he has been starting arguments with me for over a month now. Do I like Thomas? I cannot; I despise the way he acts. Or at least I do now. I liked him before he changed. I would have considered us at least friends, but he must not have liked me that much. I do not understand what happened though. He acted just fine; he was kind and caring and ever so sweet to me. And then he was not. He started ignoring me and brushing me off. And those are just the tip of the iceberg.
But here I am, sulking because he said he did not like me when he has made it so obvious. How long have I liked him and not realized? Did he ever realize? Is that why he changed? Did he recognize that I had deeper feeling for him that he did not reciprocate?
Before I realize it, the sun is setting. I have been so lost in my thoughts, trying to calm myself by watching the tranquil clouds and rippling waves, but it has not worked. I had no idea that I have been sitting here for hours. To be fair, there's not much else to do when you're dead. Suddenly, I hear a twig snap from behind me. Whipping around, I spot Thomas. Of course. "Not now, Thomas. I'm really not in the mood.” He sits down anyway. "I'm serious," I warn.
"Can I please have just a moment? This is quite important."
"If it is imoportant." I shan’t look at him. I cannot let him see how this is affecting me.
"I have been searching for you all day, you know. I am not sure why I didn't check here first."
"Please, skip the pleasantries and get on with it. I have a feeling I know what this is about anyway." I shake my head, trying not to cry. I had not cried this entire time; but of course, now that he's here, the tears have come. Hopefully, they will fall and blend in with the lake.
"You do?" questions Thomas.
"Yeah, I heard you talking with Julian. I know he was messing with you about liking me. Do not worry, I know it's not true."
Thomas lets out a light scoff. "Then you must not have heard the entire conversation. I do like you."
"I already told you that I am not in the mood for joking."
"I am not joking! I really do like you," Thomas argues.
Thomas ducks his head, trying to put himself in my line of sight. And for the first time since the start of this conversation, I look at Thomas. Tears are rolling down my face. "Then why have you been treating me like this? I do not think there has been a single day where we have not argued."
"I will admit that I made a grave mistake. I listened to Julian's advice.”
"Why would you do that?" I scoff.
"Because I wished to impress you. I was so desperate at the time and I thought you would not like me. So, I tried to be someone that I wasn't. I wish to blame Julian but it is on me. I cannot fathom why I thought that you would like what Julian made me out to be. I apologize for the way I have treated you. I can see how much I have hurt you, and I understand if you do not return my feelings." Thomas reaches his hand to my face to wipe away my tears, and I can't help but lean into his touch.
Holding his hand to my face, I explain, "I will say that the way you have treated me has hurt, but I understand now. You should have just talked to me in the first place." Thomas drops his hand to face me entirely, and I miss the warmth.
"I realize that now. I'm not sure why I ever listened to Julian in the first place. He made me believe that you would like Darcy more than Bingley, and that says a lot."
"How does he even know who Darcy and Bingley are?" I chuckle.
Thomas laughs heartily at that comment, "I had to explain the characters to him. I was trying to explain how I was more of a Bingley than a Darcy."
I look him in the eyes, smiling. "Well, it is a good thing that you now know that Bingley is the one for me."
"Really?" Thomas asks with a broad smile across his face.
"Yes! Thomas, I liked who you were before Julian’s tutalage. If you can go back to being yourself, that would make me more than ecstatic."
Thomas jumps forward, clasping his hands in mine, "Of course, I would do anything for you!"
I laugh, resting my head on his shoulder so that we can watch the sun finish setting together, "That's more like it."
#mathew baynton#x reader#fanfic#thomas thorne#bbc ghosts thomas thorne#thomas thorne x reader#bbc ghosts thomas#bbc ghosts#bbc ghosts alison#bbc ghosts julian
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praise kink hcs ; thomas thorne
requested by ; hannigross
pairing ; thomas thorne x gender neutral!reader
tag list ; @jamiewintons | @pink-booty-butts
note ; this is part one of a nine part request, and the rest of the baynton boys that i write for will get posts like this in the future
summary ; descriptions of what thomas would be like if he had a praise kink (somewhat short as i could only elaborate so much on the prompt given — sorry!)
Thomas Thorne is, if nothing else, a complete slut for praise — especially if it comes from you — and he’s willing to do pretty much anything and everything he can in order to earn it (be that something expected of him like composing some poetry in your honour, or spending hours buried between your thighs in order to make you see stars whilst your hands are buried in his hair)
Whenever you call him your ‘good boy’ (or even anything vaguely complimentary like ‘poetic’, ‘pretty’, ‘handsome’ and the like) his cheeks turn a lively shade of pink and he practically stumbles over himself as he makes sure that he’s heard you correctly
(‘you think so?’, ‘truly?’, ‘do you mean that?’)
The best way to leave him completely speechless is to gently brush his hair out of his eyes, caress the sides of his face, kiss his nose and call him your ‘good boy’ and then walk away as if nothing just happened — of course he’ll be following you around like a lost puppy for the rest of the day, but for those first few minutes he’ll be left flustered, blushing and frozen in place as his mind struggles to catch up with what exactly just happened
Within the confines of the bedroom, there is always room to take advantage of your beloved’s praise kink to get him to do whatever you want him to do — but for the sake of brevity I’ll only list a few such examples
When you’re riding his cock, gently tug his hair until his throat is completely exposed to you and then start to kiss and nip at it — whispering about how he’s such a ‘good boy’, how ‘amazing’ he feels inside of you, and how much you ‘love’ his ‘pretty noises’ against the skin of his neck between kisses (and if you suckle on his pulse point, even after his death, you’ll be able to hear the softest little whimper spill from his lips)
When he’s laying between your legs pleasuring you with his mouth, stroking your thighs as they fall over his shoulders, brush his hair away from his face and call him ‘beautiful’ and ‘handsome’ as he licks/sucks you, and tell him exactly where to kiss, and lick, and suck — encouraging him by fluffing his hair and saying things like ‘good boy’, ‘keep going’, ‘just like that’, and so on (bonus points if you’re quite vocal and make plenty of noise for him because that only encourages Thomas to go further and make a complete mess of you — and, consequently, of him but he’s not one to care about getting some dust/cum on his face if it means that he’s made his love feel good)
When you have his length filling your mouth and his hands trembling as he tries his best not to squeeze your shoulders too hard, make sure to scratch at his thighs and lower stomach with your nails and keep looking up at him through your eyelashes — occasionally pull away to press a kiss to his hand or length and whisper about how much you love him (how he sounds, all he does for you, how he looks, and, of course, his dick) and tell him how good he’s being for you, and by the end of it he’ll be half-whimpering, half-sobbing your name over and over again like some sort of prayer until he gets dust/cum all over your face and chest
In short, combining small amounts of pain with praising Thomas for his actions and appearance are going to be the most effective way to get him into sub space in the bedroom — especially if you use the words ‘good boy’ often during your praise because he’s always yearning for your specific approval and that title, however foreign to the time period he grew up in, is something he almost seems to wear as a badge of honour when you’re together
He lives to please you, after all (even in death, however ironic the notion might be at that point), so being acknowledged for his efforts isn’t going to hurt
#sleepingdeath#18+ account#minors dni#not sfw death#minors don’t touch#thomas thorne smut#thomas thorne x reader#bbc ghosts smut#bbc ghosts x reader#gender neutral reader#smut#smut hcs
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PAIRING Thomas Thorne x fem!ghost!reader
A/N I’ve been obsessed with bbc ghosts recently and basically fell in love with Thomas so I just had to write something for him. This is not proof read and most likely has shitty grammar as I literally wrote this in my maths class 😭
WARNINGS kissing?? Peer pressure ig
Thomas didn’t understand why it was so difficult to get Alison under the mistletoe. Each time he had tried today, he had failed miserably and it’s making him so frustrated. Thomas currently had his face shoved into the Captain’s thigh, his body in an uncomfortable position as the two were playing twister, a game Alison got Pat for Christmas.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alison standing at the door frame, right under the mistletoe. Thomas tried to call out to, desperately, but it was muffled due to his position. Thomas rolled his eyes, giving up a kiss with Alison was absolutely and positively not worth it for this terrible game, so he quickly got out of the position and walked (basically ran) towards the door, but alas, Alison was already walking away.
A loud gasp suddenly echoed through the room, and Thomas looked towards Kitty. “You two are under the mistletoe.” She said. Thomas furrowed his eyebrows, but turned his head to see you trying to walk away from under the door, but Kitty called out again. “Stop! You have to kiss now, Y/N!”
“Kitty…” Y/N said, “we don’t have to kiss. It’s just silly tradition.”
Thomas laugh, although it sounded quite un-genuine to the people in the library. “Such a silly tradition.” He says. Little do they know, Thomas, despite being a massive poet and always admitting his love to those women around him, quite liked Y/N. Every since you passed away 55 years ago and came into his life, he has never been happier. You two hang out all the time, and he loves how you always listen to his poems. The problem is that when he realised he had these feelings for you, you guys became too close. He felt that if he revealed these feelings, and you rejected him, you would no longer want to be friends.
What he didn’t know is that you harbour the same feelings for him, you been infatuated with him for years. When Alison came to the house, and he started telling her all his poems, and hanging out with her more often, you couldn’t help but to feel jealous. You can’t lie and say it hasn’t been tense around you two, because everyone can feel it.
“It’s not silly tradition it sweet!” Kitty complained.
“I used to always hang mistletoe around the house for me and Carol. It was great, really nice tradition.” Pat told the group.
You rolled your eyes, “fine. If it’s so important to you lot.” You leaned up and Thomas held his breath, his eyes widened, only to feel your lips fall on his cheek before you pulled back. “There.”
“No! It has to be a proper kiss silly!” Kitty giggles, “on the lips.”
Despite not having any blood in his body, Thomas swore his whole face went pink. The idea of your lips on his was enough to make his tummy do somersaults (even you just kissing his cheek made his body feel all fuzzy inside).
“Kitty, it’s not like me and Thomas not kissing is going to ruin Christmas or anything.” You tell her.
“Actually, it suppose bad luck if you don’t kiss under mistletoe.” Mary mentions, causing the rest of the group to send you smirks.
You take a deep breath, the others watch in anticipation on what your going to do. You groan before looking back at the group. “Does it really matter if we kiss or don’t kiss.”
“Yes!” Kitty says gleefully. Thomas frowned. The thought of kissing you sounds delightful but it seems as though you don’t share the same thoughts as him. Only you do. You would love to kiss Thomas, you would just prefer to kiss him without the peer pressure of your friends.
“Look, Thomas doesn’t even want to kiss me and it would be very rude to kiss someone without their permission.” You tell the group and try to leave again. Thomas looked at you on bewilderment, he can’t believe you think he doesn’t want to kiss you.
“I believe Thorne does, Y/N.” The Captain tells you. You glare at him, wondering why he decides now is the best place to join in on the group’s antics.
You turn your head to look at Thomas, “I really don’t mind.” He mutters. “Besides if it makes them stop pestering us.” Thomas says.
“Y’know what? Fine. If it means so much to you people.” You turn your whole body towards Thomas and grab his shirt before pulling him towards you. Your lips fall on his and the poet swore he has never felt anything better.
Thomas lets out a soft hum against your lips, he brings one of his hands your cheek to deepen the kiss. He opens his mouth slightly, brushing his tongue along your bottom lip to gently request access to your mouth. You part your lips ever so slightly before they are quickly pried open further by Thomas’ tongue.
You suddenly remember that the ghosts are watching and quickly pull away. Thomas tries to chase you lips but you step back before he can.
“There. Was that a proper enough kiss for you?” You say. The four ghosts watching don’t answer, so you walk back out of the library, Thomas fixes his waistcoat and looks at the others; his face feeling hot.
“Oh my god.” Kitty ends up saying, breaking the silence.
#bethsvrse#fanfic#thomas thorne x reader#thomas thorne#mathew baynton#bbc ghosts#bbc ghosts x reader#ghosts#reader#x reader#fem reader
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Last Resort (Thomas Thorne/F!Reader)
Summary: You and Thomas have been friends since you were very young, yet he never seems to notice how you feel about him. One day when you watch him attempt to woo an actually interested lady, you decide to take matters into your own hands.
Tags/Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Alive!AU. Childhood Friends to Lovers. Idiots in Love. Jealous/Possessive!Reader. Regency Era. Premarital Sex Acts. Loss of Virginity (for both Thomas and reader). Oral Sex (F!Receiving). Unprotected Sex. Marriage Proposals.
A/N: Another fic for my request event! The prompts from @missielynne were “Thomas Thorne + Jealous/Possessive Sex + Secret Crush”. Once again I can’t actually stick to the prompts properly - things start out fueled by jealousy but they don’t stay that way, haha…
It’s been quite a while since I’ve written anything for Thomas, so I hope everyone enjoys this!
Word Count: 3311
Thomas Taglist: @pink-booty-butts, @demontoucansam, @the-fandomgremlin, @veeraine, @glow-inthe-darkstarz, @iwillstealyourtoes-wattpad, @memelous-mrs-maisel, @agir1ukn0w, @definetlynotasmutaccount, @jamiewintonmybeloved, @alinearecta, @notwhateveriwasbefore, @multisexyhoez20, @clydethesnake
*
Your family and the Thorne family had been close since before you were born, owing to the long friendship between your mother and Mrs. Thorne (née Button). You had been particularly close to Mrs. Thorne’s youngest child and only son, Thomas, since you were both children, and had stayed that way into young adulthood.
This close friendship was beginning to become a problem, however.
It must have been in your teenage years when you realised you had started to harbour romantic feelings for Thomas. Thomas, who fell head over heels for every beautiful woman that came his way, but never for you. Did he see you as like one of his sisters? Or perhaps, due to how long you’d known each other, he hardly even recognised you as a woman and simply as a friend? You desperately wished to tell him how you felt, but it was all so difficult. You didn’t wish to ruin the longest lasting friendship you’d had if Thomas didn’t feel anything for you.
But watching him fawn over other women hurt your heart. You’d lost count of how many times he’d confided in you about his deep, loving feelings for a woman who he’d spoken to once. How many times you’d had to listen to the poetry he had composed for them and give him your feedback on it, when all you wanted was for those words to be for you?
But still, you waited, watched, hoping that somehow Thomas would come to the sudden realisation that you love him, leading him to discover that he’d loved you in return all along without realising. Any of the suitable men that your father arranged for you to meet were of no interest to you, because all you could think about was the silly, romantic poet who had stolen your heart without even knowing it.
Your fortunes started to change when you were at a little get together being held by your parents at your family home. Thomas, of course, was also in attendance. You were sticking close to his side, trying not to look utterly bitter as he attempted to woo a young woman who was also attending the event. You couldn’t quite recall her name, but you were sure you’d seen her around before. She was certainly quite pretty; you could see why she had caught Thomas’ eye.
Everything was going normally, until you noticed something quite peculiar. Unlike every other woman you’d seen Thomas attempt to flirt with before, this lady was actually responding positively. She wasn’t trying to brush him off, she actually liked him.
You felt your heart wrench. She was interested in Thomas. Thomas was interested in her. If things went well between them, a proposal might be made. They would marry without you ever getting your chance to let Thomas know how much you adored him. It was a terrifying thing to imagine the only man you’d ever loved marrying another woman. You abhorred the very thought of it, and right away you knew you had to stop it.
When the woman excused herself for a minute, you saw your chance to strike. Grabbing Thomas by the wrist, you began to drag him out of the main room and into the hallway. Everyone had been so busy chatting amongst themselves that none of them noticed either of you leaving. All the way down the hall, Thomas was questioning you and your motives, his voice somewhat high pitched with shock and confusion.
“What’s wrong, Y/N? Where are we going?” he asked you, but you didn’t answer him. Words were not enough, this could only be sorted out with actions. Once you reached your bedroom door, you opened it, pushing Thomas inside and then slipping in after him. You quickly locked it with the latch and then turned back to your utterly baffled friend.
Thomas had no time to question you any longer, because almost immediately after the door was locked your lips were on his. You tangled your fingers in his beautiful soft curls, which you had dreamed of touching ever since your teenage years. You kept kissing him for a few moments, until you realised that he wasn’t reciprocating, and your heart sank. Pulling away, you looked at Thomas, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open in bafflement.
This was it. You’d ruined everything. Thomas was just about to tell you that he saw you as a friend, a sister, that he couldn’t be kissing you like this. Or even worse, due to your little outburst, he might feel like the two of you could no longer be friends at all. Of course, the news would quickly spread to your parents when they realised that you and your former best friend were acting awkward around each other, and then—
To your complete and utter shock, Thomas cut off your thoughts by lunging forward, cupping your face in his hands and crashing his lips against yours.
Like Thomas had earlier, you found yourself unable to reciprocate, at least at first. Once you realised exactly what was happening, you were kissing Thomas back with more passion than you’d ever felt in your life. You’d never kissed anyone like this before, then again you’d never kissed anyone before period. As such it was quite clumsy, as Thomas’ tongue found entrance into your mouth, but still it was perfect. You wouldn’t have wanted this with any other man but him.
Your hands travelled down Thomas’ back as the kiss deepened even further, eventually settling on his backside and pushing him against you, feeling something hardening in his breeches even through the fabric of your clothing. You smiled into the kiss, though your knowledge of what went on between a man and a woman behind closed doors wasn’t very extensive, you certainly knew this was a good sign.
A rush of molten arousal flowed through your body at the feeling of Thomas’ erection pressed against you. Your arousal urged you to take things further, to sate your curiosity and the warm tingling in your lower stomach. You don’t feel entirely in control of your actions when one hand leaves Thomas’ backside in favour of slipping between your bodies, gently beginning to stroke his cock through the fabric.
Thomas lets out a shuddering moan at the feeling of you touching his clothed length. Involuntarily, his hips bucked into your hand, craving more of what you could give him. And you did your best to deliver, with gradually faster strokes that had Thomas burying his face into your neck to muffle the sinful moans that he couldn’t stop from slipping past his lips.
“Not yet,” Thomas said, strained, using all of his willpower to pull himself away from you. For a horrifying split second, you thought that Thomas would leave you here, so aroused and without any relief, but those fears were soon alleviated when he began to slowly move you towards your bed. He kissed your lips hungrily again and again, like he just couldn’t get enough of you. “Forgive me for being such a fool. I can’t believe I never realised how you felt about me. Or how I felt about you.”
“You mustn’t apologise, Thomas,” you said, as the two of you hastily began to unlace and remove each other's clothing. Getting Thomas naked was quite easy, compared to removing all of the many layers of your own garments. Both of your clothes are discarded carelessly in a crumpled heap on the floor. “We both know now, that’s all that matters.”
Once you’re bare, Thomas is completely unable to keep his eyes from roaming up and down your body appreciatively. He’d not seen a naked woman in person before - only in paintings and represented in sculpture - but you were far more beautiful to his eyes than any work of art that could be created. His already prominent erection twitched, as he found his mind overwhelmed with thoughts of what he wanted to do to you; to cover your body in kisses, to pleasure you until the only word you could remember was his name, to make love to you endlessly and bring you to the pinnacle of bliss.
Neither of you were quite sure about how or when you ended up on the bed, but it didn’t seem to matter once you were laying on your back against the pillows, gasping as Thomas’ lips and hands trailed down your body and left goosebumps in their wake. Curiously, he groped at your breasts, relishing in how soft they felt in his hands. Then, he decided to take one nipple into his mouth, sucking until it was hardened into a peak. He did the same to the other, making you whine, before he moved on.
Thomas’ kisses continued downwards until he found himself between your spread thighs, face to face with your glistening wetness. He felt an overwhelming urge to taste you on his tongue; though he had no experience with the act himself, Thomas had heard gossip of men driving women wild with arousal by using their tongues to pleasure them. He felt rather ashamed that he had occasionally touched himself to his recollections of those stories he had been told, to imagining a woman whining and writhing beneath him as he licked her sex until she was screaming. Thomas had ached to try it, so he wasn’t going to miss his chance.
Both of you moaned in unison when Thomas buried his face into your cunt, immediately delving his tongue inside of you to taste you from the source. His fingers dug into your thighs as he withdrew from your entrance and began to lick long stripes up the length of your pussy, noticing you seemed to react more when his tongue touched a little nub near the top.
As such, he began to focus all of his attention there. Thomas alternated between licking and sucking, simply following whatever seemed to make you cry out and tug at his hair the most, and he moaned when you did it, which also seemed to enhance your pleasure. You were babbling above him, and Thomas could feel you bucking your hips slightly in time with his ministrations.
“My God, Thomas, I…” You’d never felt like this in your life. You had touched yourself previously, hidden under your blankets in the dead of night, but it had never been like this. It had felt good, but right now you couldn’t even find the words to describe how you were feeling. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to spread your legs wider or clamp them around Thomas' head so his wonderful, glorious mouth would never stop pleasuring you. “Please don’t stop. Please. Thomas!”
And Thomas didn’t stop. He kept lapping at you until all of the tension in your lower stomach finally snapped, and the most incredible feeling of euphoria overtook your entire being. Thankfully you had the sense to take one of your pillows in your hands and press it over your face, to keep you from screaming so loud that everyone in the house heard you. You were practically sobbing, all thoughts gone from your mind other than those pertaining to Thomas and how he was making you feel. He continued until your body went limp, your legs falling down onto the bed in exhaustion.
You opened your eyes as Thomas rose up from between your legs, his lips and chin glistening with your wetness. You beckoned him up to you and as soon as he was within range, you kissed him fiercely, tasting yourself on him and moaning at the thought of the intimate act he’d just performed on you. Once you’d indulged yourself, you pulled back, staring deeply into Thomas’ eyes. “I want you to make love to me, Thomas.”
“W-we can’t, we’re not husband and wife,” Thomas protested, though he made no effort to move himself away from you, and you could feel his cock twitching against your leg at the thought of being inside of you. “It wouldn’t be right, think of your reputation…”
You lift a hand up to tenderly stroke your thumb against his cheekbone. “Thomas, I’ve loved you ever since I was a teenager. I want to marry you, and I think it’s only fair that since you’ve made such a mess of me, you should take responsibility and make me your wife.” You smiled, leaning up to gently peck him on the lips.
“Oh, my dear. I’ve had these feelings for you deep inside me for so long, secret to everyone including myself until today. But now I know they have always been there. Of course I will marry you.” Thomas’ own hand came to stroke against your cheek, smiling and you with such adoration that you never could have hoped to see from him. That promise seemed to be the only convincing that Thomas needed, and after wrapping your legs around his waist, he slowly began to push his cock inside of you.
It was quite the stretch, you felt some stinging which led you to dig your fingernails into Thomas’ shoulder. He sheathed himself inside of you very steadily, both for your sake and his - you needed time to adjust, and he was sure he would meet his end too soon if he sped up even a bit. Once he was fully inside of you his face was pressed into your neck again as he whispered sweet praises against your skin.
“My darling, you feel heavenly,” he groaned breathlessly, kissing gently at your throat between each word. “I cannot wait until we’re married, and I can make love to you every morning and night. I love you.”
“I love you too,” you replied, feeling Thomas’ breath hitch at your words. You tightened your legs around him, hoping to give him a signal that you were ready. “Please move, I can’t take it anymore.”
Thomas gave a short nod, and then did as you bid him, starting to rock his hips against yours, making you shudder. It felt so incredible to have him inside of you, to have his body pressed completely against yours. To know that he was yours, and you were his.
Your mouths connected again and you explored each other’s mouths lazily as Thomas gently took you, your hands grabbing at his shoulders. The moans you let out were muffled by his mouth, and you did the same for him. Thomas’ hand stroked up one of your thighs, hitching it up higher on his hip which allowed him to reach deeper inside of you.
“I need to go faster, dear, may I?” Thomas asked, remarkably politely for someone in his current situation. You nodded vigorously, looking into his eyes almost as if you were begging him to do so. With your approval, he began thrusting into you more rapidly, making both of your moans come out louder. Even in your compromised state you knew that wasn’t acceptable - you needed to be quiet, regardless of how good you felt- and grabbed Thomas’ cheeks to pull him down into a passionate kiss, allowing you both to swallow the other’s moans.
Thomas’ hands were gripping your hips, squeezing them like he’d die if he stopped. Though he was attempting to keep up with your kisses, his repeated whispers of your name and “oh God” were making his task difficult. You didn’t know that much about your current activities, but judging by how Thomas’ rhythm was faltering and the way his cock was twitching inside of you, you were sure something was about to happen.
“M-my darling, I’m sorry… i-it’s too much…” Thomas stammered, before hastily pulling out of you. You didn’t even have time to question his actions before you felt him spill onto your stomach, panting and struggling to keep himself upright. But he was determined, and unwilling to leave you without a second high. His hand once again moved between your legs, his thumb rubbing against that place which had brought you so much pleasure before. With how sensitive you were, it took you all of a few moments to climax again, shuddering and gasping until you were completely spent.
Thomas collapsed onto the bed beside you, utterly exhausted. After taking a few moments to catch your breath, your eyes fell to your stomach, where he had spilt himself on you. Looking over to Thomas, you then swept one finger through it, before bringing it to your mouth and slowly sucking it off. You heard him take a sharp inhale at this action, his cheeks flushing an even brighter shade of red.
“Dear, you can’t do things like that. I cannot take it, I won’t be able to keep myself from wanting to take you again.” Thomas’ voice was deeper than usual, and you found you really enjoyed the way it sounded.
“Would that be so bad?” you asked him, smiling devilishly, and he leaned over to press a chaste kiss against your cheek. When he pulled away, you could see the barely contained lust still in his eyes, and it made another wave of heat flow through you.
“We shouldn’t, my love. At least not until we’re man and wife.” As much as it pained you to wait so long to have him again, Thomas was completely correct. If you happened to get caught in the throes of passion, or God forbid, you ended up pregnant out of wedlock, it would probably ruin your life. So you would have to wait, but it would be so wonderful once you could be together again.
“So you really do want to marry me, then? You weren’t just saying that to get me into bed?”
“Of course not, what do you take me for?” Thomas gasped, absolutely scandalised, and you could hardly keep yourself from laughing at the expression on his face. “I meant what I said when I—”
“Only playing, Thomas,” you soothed, stopping another famous Thomas Thorne rant in its tracks. You moved over a little closer to him so you were able to rest against his shoulder, smiling yet again when he turned his head to pepper more kisses on your face.
You stayed like this for a while, almost having forgotten about everything outside of the room, including the get together that was currently happening just down the hall. As such, it was quite the shock when you heard a voice calling your name outside of your bedroom door, and you sat up abruptly, your heart nearly stopping. After the initial surprise, you recognised it as the voice of your father. He attempted to open the door, but finding it locked, he ceased trying after a few moments. “Y/N, are you in there?” he asked, and though you knew he couldn’t see you, you felt the need to cover yourself up.
“Yes, Father!” you responded obediently. “I’m sorry I rushed away… I was starting to feel a little bit lightheaded, so I decided to take a short lie down.”
“Do you need for me to call the doctor?” You could hear a tone of concern in his voice, and it made you smile.
“No, please don’t worry! I’m feeling much better now. Please give me a few moments, and I will be right back.” You stood up as quietly as you could, and began to pick up your clothing, wanting to get a head start on redressing.
“Of course.” You could hear his footsteps going back down the hallway, but he quickly returned a few moments later. “Now that I think of it, have you seen Thomas anywhere? He seemed to disappear around the same time that you did.”
You paused in your redressing to turn to Thomas, who had started to get dressed himself, having to stifle a quiet giggle. “No, I have absolutely no idea as to where he might be.”
#thomas thorne x reader#thomas thorne imagine#thomas thorne fluff#thomas thorne smut#thomas thorne fanfiction#bbc ghosts fanfiction#bbc ghosts imagine#bbc ghosts x reader#x reader smut#x reader fluff#x reader fanfiction#x reader fic#mari’s stuff#nsft text
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knitting club (Thomas Thorne x Reader drabble)
note: hi fellas. this is my first time writing something like this and POSTING it. I'm a little nervous ngl! But just bear with me I swear I'll improve 😊. anywho! feel free to shoot some silly little requests my way!
Also! apologies if you don't have any clue about knitting, I personally do and I based this off a singular Thomas quote LOL.
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The club meetings Alison was hosting in the home proved to be bothersome for some of the ghosts, annoyed at how many people were visiting the house every day. Between the AA meetings and just the most random topics you could ever think of being discussed, it was something not everyone was entirely interested in. Though everyone loved to tune into the AA meeting every once in a while, for some juicy stories.
You on the other hand? You stuck around for all the art based clubs, it reminded you of when you were alive and could do all this work with your hands.
The knitting club proved to be one that you could watch for hours, it's one of the hobbies you missed a lot. Looking around at all of the cute creations everyone was making and talking about their families and different stories they had from the day filled your soul with a sort of warmth.
As this week's meeting began, you sat on the old beat up couch, watching all the young, old, women and men fill the seats, excited about what progress they made over the week. Unbeknownst to you though, a certain poet was walking past the room to see you sitting in there alone, with the group that had no idea you were there.
Thomas was never really fond of the knitting club, he felt it was boring and it wasn’t worth his time to sit and watch other people knit while talking about their grandkids or their in-laws. But maybe he could learn to like it? Maybe just for you?
He walked into the room silently as you were enchanted by all the people getting ready to start the meeting. “Good evening dear (Y/N),” Thomas greets you with a slight bow and a polite smile on his face. You light up and wave to him “Hi! Are you here for the knitting club? I thought you didn’t like them?” Thomas freezes up before responding with a quick agreement. “I just thought I might’ve judged them a little too hard at first, so I thought I would give them another chance,” this makes you smile and you go back to watching the group.
He had to admit it's not as boring as he remembered, but it still wasn’t super enjoyable for him. But boy did it make him gleam seeing you get up and tell him what everyone was making and why.
By the end of the meeting, he learned one of the older women was making a blanket for her new grandson, and a young man was making a hat for his wife as a Christmas gift. Part of him wished he could do something like that for you, just because he realized how excited you get about this stuff.
“Say (Y/N), did you know how to knit when you were living? You seem to know quite a bit.” You nod, “It was a big hobby of mine. I spent a lot of time and money on blankets and hats, which now thinking about it, probably paid off. Because now my family has something handmade to remember me.” You smile, but it hurts to think about sometimes.
Thomas reads you like a book, he realizes how emotional you are getting. He places a supportive hand on your shoulder.
You both lock eyes, getting lost with one another. Thomas soon breaks eye contact to glance over at the people knitting mindlessly.
“I know that being stuck here isn’t ideal, and not being able to do the things you love isn’t ideal either. But isn’t it splendid you can still appreciate it? Even if you cannot do it, isn’t the true gift appreciation?” He states, so matter of factly you can’t even begin to argue. “That was actually very poetic.” Both of you smile at each other.
“I also appreciate you, Thomas.”
“I feel the same exact way, my dearest.”
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I hope you all enjoyed! Probably not the best work ever, but I thought it was cute :)
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Hi! I want to request a Thomas Thorne x ghost! reader with the reader being a ghost from the 1960s! They're from America and was visiting the Button House when they died (or murdered if you want to include that). The reader is pretty oblivious to advances Thomas makes, as they believe it's just a sort of thing he does as a poet (like a persona in a way). Reader is as down bad for Thomas as he is for them, though lol. Reader can manipulate any radios nearby to play a certain station or sound.
Sorry if this is a lot! You can leave out what you wish to. Have a good day/night! Thank you :]
HAUNTED BROADCAST
A/N: Thanks so much for requesting! This is literally such a good idea woah, I hope you like it :) Also I haven’t watched ghosts in a while so I’m sorry if Thomas is OOC, btw this is my first post so it’s bound to have bad writing D:
Pairing: Thomas Thorne x GN!ghost!reader
Warnings: talks of how reader died (also Thomas being a simp for reader)
Thomas walked through the halls of Button House nervously, he had just composed a new poem and had to tell someone before he forgot. The first person he absolutely needed to tell, was of course you.
You were his muse for his newest poem, not that he would admit it, he was scared that if he actually admitted his feelings for you, he would be rejected, like how his advances with Alison would often turn out.
The others would constantly tease his giddy nature around you, but Thomas always made an excuse to them, that the reason you were always the first to hear his poems was because you could broadcast his performance on the radio that Alison would conveniently leave in the sitting room, which is where you were the moment he reached the bottom of the stairs.
"Oh thank goodness, you're here! I need you-", Thomas was cut off by you letting out a giggle as you proceeded for him, knowing exactly what he was going to say, "Hey sweetie you need the radio?"
Thomas grinned bashfully, trying his hardest to hide his lovestruck blush by your nickname for him, well you actually called everyone 'sweetie', but the delusional romantic that Thomas was, made him convince himself that it made him particularly special.
"Yes, how did you know? Oh my, you must be able to read minds on top of controlling that contraption!"
You smile and playfully roll your eyes at his signature dramatics, "No silly, you ask for the radio almost everyday.”
Trying your hardest to distract yourself from his charm, you prepared yourself to focus hard, “Right sweetie you can start in 3, 2, 1.", you flexed your fingers and placed your index finger on the tip of the radio antenna, focusing all your strength on sending a broadcast through the radio stations just like you had done over the decades of knowing Thomas.
Thomas then started to recite his poem from the top of his head, he spoke confidently as he always did, but unfortunately as was the way, most of the time you could not listen to his work. Focusing on the radio was your job and having to multitask was not an option, so with a guilty heart you had to pretend you heard every word and applaud him once he had finished.
Thomas smiled proudly, “Did you like it?”
“Yeah, it was beautiful sugar, probably your best work to date.”, your proud smile strained on your face as guilt ran through your body, you deeply cared for Thomas but at this moment you wished he would leave so you could stop feeling bad for him.
“What are you two up to? Another poem Thomas?”, Alison asked walking into the room alone.
You looked at Alison gratefully, now Thomas’ attention would be elsewhere and you wouldn’t have to lie. “Hey Thomas I think The Captain is looking for you.”
You and Thomas frowned, confused as to why The Captain of all people would be looking for him. “He just wants to talk to you, now go before he gets cross!”, Alison shooed an utterly confused Thomas up the stairs; she returned to the sitting room and took her place next to you.
You raised a brow suspiciously at Alison, “What was that all about?”, you couldn’t decipher why Alison looked almost giddy at you.
“Didn’t you hear the poem that Thomas was performing just now?!”, Alison couldn’t wipe off the now cheeky smile off her face.
“I’m sorry sugar but I really don’t know what you mean. The thing is I don’t listen to his poems, I’m so focused on broadcasting them that it takes up my attention. I know it’s horrible that I lie to him afterwards, but he just looks so happy it would crush me to tell him the truth.”
“That’s probably the best since none of his poems are that great.”, Alison had slipped out, not realising she was thinking out loud. As she slapped her hand over her mouth, you looked offended at her and she proceeded to raise her hands in surrender, eventhough she secretly thought she was right. “That’s not nice, I’m sure you’re wrong Alison.”
“Hey, I never actually asked, how can you control the radio?”, Alison looked at you curiously. “Well it’s because I died in the 1960s, radios were the rage back then.”, you replied as if it were obvious, considering you were still wearing very stereotypical 60s clothing too.
“Right so how did you die?”, you raised a brow at Alison, “well aren’t you full of questions today”, you sighed and got comfortable on the sofa.
“It all started back in my hometown in the US. I was married to my partner who was very wealthy back in the day and they had friends here in England.”, Alison had opened her mouth to ask a question but you continued to talk, wanting this explanation over with as quickly as possible.
“I didn’t much care for flying, I got airsick a lot but my partner had forced me to go with them for the sake of being polite.”, you paused for a moment getting lost in thought when Alison tapped the sofa closest to you to proceed, “Anyways, we had made our way to Button House, where my partner’s friends lived and we stayed here for a couple days, we partied and traveled around town, it was fun, no doubt about it, but I was always left out. I wasn’t friends with anyone else at the house and my partner was so wrapped up in the fun they forgot about me.”, Alison kept her gaze on you apologetically.
“It was the last night of our vacation, everyone was drunk excluding me, I didn’t mind a drink here and there but I wanted to make sure at least one of us could wake up on time to catch our flight the next morning. I was making my way upstairs to the guest room.”, you both turned towards the sound of Pat and Robin bickering on the top of the stairs, you turned back to face Alison, this time with an uncharacteristically serious expression.
“It was very late at night, I was tired, it was dark, so I wasn’t watching where I was going and I slipped at the top step, it caused me to fall all the way to the bottom and that’s how I died.”, you refrained from getting too detailed with the process of your death since it was too much for you to explain.
“It was so strange when I became a ghost, frightening, to see yourself watching over your own body just lying there. That was nowhere near as scary as when I first met the others though, it was all so overwhelming, but of course the only exception to the group was that Pat and Julian weren’t dead yet. They became my new family very quickly, they didn’t make me feel left out and were all so caring, especially Thomas, he was the one who made me eventually discover my talent with the radio.”, you smiled fondly thinking back on those days of newly being a ghost, “So that’s how I died, anything else you wanna know sweetie?”, your signature smile returning to your face.
“Woah that’s so sad, I’m so sorry I just get really interested in how you all died, I never think about how it must feel to retell it. I wish I could give you a hug.”
“That’s alright sweetie and please don’t hug me. I’m sure you’re a great hugger, but you know, it feels super freaky.”
“Oh you know you should really talk to Thomas, tell him the truth that you didn’t hear his poem. He’s so smitten I don’t even think he’s capable of being mad at you. The truth is, I was eavesdropping and I heard some of the poem, you need to hear it.”, she said fighting a smile on her face which you were oblivious to, you could only imagine what Thomas’ poem could be about.
Without another word you sat up and mindlessly walked through the sitting room and up the stairs, making sure to check the top step as was your routine. “Have you seen Thomas?”, you asked Pat who was still bickering with Robin.
Pat noticed you wringing your hands nervously through your clothes and smiled warmly at you, “I think he’s in his room dear, he’s been in a right state you know.”, he said and picked up where he left off in his argument with Robin. You nodded and carried yourself through the hallway leading to Thomas’ room.
The door was shut so you knocked gently on the wood and Thomas spoke quietly from inside his room, “It’s open.”, you sucked in a breath and pushed the door open. “Thomas we have to talk.”, he furrowed his brows and nodded, he knew you must be serious since you didn’t use your usual nickname for him, “Speak my dear, tell me what worries you.”
You sighed and sat next to him on his bed, “I must confess that I haven’t been listening to your poems whilst broadcasting them. Before you say anything, I’m so so sorry sweetie, I really wish I could but broadcasting takes up all of my focus.”, Thomas just blinks at you.
“Well?”
“Is that all?”
“Yes … that’s it. I’m so sorry.”
“I thought it would be worse, I thought you would say you didn’t like me.”
“I would never say that Thomas, of course I like you, I always will.”
“Could you recite your poem for me again, I want to hear it.”, you asked now feeling much better after confessing your guilt to Thomas.
“Um of course.”, Thomas cleared his throat and stood up in front of you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you; the feeling was mutual and the tension between the two of you grew stronger.
“I feel so unsure,
As I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor,
As the music dies, something in your eyes,
Calls to mind a silver screen,
And all its sad good-byes—”
“I'm never gonna dance again
Guilty feet have got no rhythm
Though it's easy to pretend
I know you're not a foollll”, Pat had been walking past Thomas’ room, cutting him off since he recognised the lyrics, he was very off beat but regardless he caught the two off guard and completely ruined the moment.
“Patrick! How on earth did you know the lines to my poem?!”, Thomas asked completely shocked at Pat’s sudden appearance.
“It’s a song from my time mate, it’s a classic!”, he smiled oblivious of what he had ruined and danced down the hall, singing the rest of ‘careless whisper’.
Thomas pouted, he was upset that he couldn’t complete his poem. “Um Thomas as beautiful as that was, I think Pat is right. I do recall hearing that song on the radio, it’s called ‘careless whisper’ by George Michael.”
“Um who is George Michael, is this man a poet?”
“I guess you could say that, yeah.”
He gasped loudly, “Oh my goodness I must send my apologies to Sir George Michael at once! How could I plagiarise such a talented individual!”
“Oh sweetie that’s not necessary, he’s dead too, unfortunately.”
“Oh, what a shame his poem was beautiful. It made me think of you my dear.”
“You know that song is about love right?”
“Yes, I gathered from the words.”
“…is there any particular reason you chose that song to recite to me specifically?”
Thomas sucked in a breath and blushed, “Yes there is a reason. I think you know that for a very long time, like since you came to Button House, even when you were alive, I fell in love with you.”
“Y-you have loved me for that long?!”, standing up to face him properly, in shock, had you really been so painfully oblivious?
“You didn’t know? I thought I made it obvious. All of my poems were for you, you have been in my dreams almost every night, surely you must have known.”
“I’m sorry Thomas I didn’t know, but I have loved you for a long time too, I just didn’t think you shared my feelings. Telling you could have ruined our friendship which is something I treasure.”
“Don’t worry my love.” Thomas smiled bashfully and took your hands in his. “May I kiss you?”
You smiled leaning your forehead against his, “You may sweetie.”
He pressed his lips to yours gently and you returned his kiss as ‘careless whisper’ started playing on the radio downstairs.
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Can I please have a thomas thorne X reader where reader and Thomas are from the same time period and they where married and none of the other ghosts know about it? Thanks.
Note: requests are currently closed
Of course. Hope you like the fic!
Title: Secret Marriage
Ghosts tag list: @violetlucreziastuff, @mxacegrey
Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee
“It’s arrived!”
You had never heard Alison sound so excited before. She walked hurriedly into the room waving an envelope. Mike followed quickly behind her and he too looked excited. She sat down on the sofa and drummed her fingers on the letter.
“What’s that?” you asked as you came and sat down on the arm of the sofa
“Well,” she said, “It was Mike’s idea originally.”
“What was?” you asked
“We were watching TV one night,” she said, “And there was one sort of ancestry show on and Mike said-“
“Why don’t we try that for one of the ghosts.” Mike said looking at where he thought you were, although you were sitting on the other arm of the sofa
“Ancestry?” you asked
“You know,” Alison said with a shrug, “Family trees. See if there is anyone related to you who is currently alive.”
By now the other ghosts had come in the room. You felt a feeling of unease settle in the pit of you stomach and you made eye contact with Thomas. He too looked slightly nervous but Pat said,
“Ah brilliant idea Alison. Whose family tree have you got in there?”
“Well,” said Alison, “It was a bit tricky on deciding who to do first. These things aren’t cheap. In the end we decided to do Y/n.”
“Me?” you asked, surprised
“Oh how wonderful,” said Kitty, “Oh please do me next Alison. Please, please, please.”
“We’ll see.” Said Alison
You bit your lip nervously as she pulled the paper out. You looked down at your fingers as she read through the papers.
“Mother and father’s name,” she muttered, “Siblings. Didn’t know you had any?”
“Didn’t really get on with them.” You said
Alison was silent for a second. Then she said,
“Y/n, there’s something here that I-“
She trailed off and looked up at you. Mike frowned and looked over at the results.
“Says here she was married.” He said
That’s when the room exploded.
“You were married,” said Pat, “Why didn’t you tell us, love?”
“Secret lover I bet,” said Julian with a wink, “Mummy and Daddy didn’t approve.”
“All I can say is that I hope he was respectable,” said Fanny sternly, “But if you kept it a secret from us I don’t have much hope.”
Mike, who couldn’t hear the uproar, said,
“Thomas Thorne? Isn’t that-“
As quickly as the shouting start it stopped. Everyone was looking at you and Thomas and you put you head in your hands. Thomas stood up and put a hand on your shoulder.
“Who were married?” asked Pat, “Why didn’t you tell us? None of us knew.”
“Tell yourself that.” Grunted Robin
“You knew?” barked the Captain, “Then you should’ve informed us of this development.”
“Thoughts everyone knew.” Said Mary
“Kind of obvious.” Said Humphrey from the table
“But, why didn’t you tell us?” said Alison and you winced at the hurt in her voice
“It’s just…” you trailed off and looked at Thomas for help
“We didn’t mean to,” said Thomas, “It just, never came up.”
“I died suddenly,” you said, “Illness. Fanny was right about one thing, my parents did not approve of Thomas.”
“I can see why.” Fanny interrupted
“But we were happy,” you said, “You hurt no idea how much it hurt me to see him come back. I was stuck, dead, and he was alive. When he died-“
You broke off again and closed your eyes. Thomas squeezed your shoulder reassuringly and you rested your head against him.
“I was delighted to see y/n again after so long,” Thomas said, “But at the same time to brought up so much pain. We just-“
“Never mentioned it.”
You looked up and smiled at Thomas. You stood up and said,
“Excuse me, I think I need some time alone.”
As you walked out of the room Pat approached Thomas.
“Will she be alright? Shouldn’t you go after her.” he asked
“Give her time,” Thomas replied, looking at where you had disappeared to, “And when have known someone as long as I have you know when it’s best to give those you love space.”
“So,” Mike said to Alison, “What exactly has happened? Two of the ghosts were (are?) married?”
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being alison's younger sister and seeing the ghosts:
(this is a fem!reader but lmk if you want gender neutral stuff too, also this is rlly long sorry i got so carried away)
(what event that led you to die for a bit and come back alive is up to you - car crash, falling over etc)
seeing ghosts is something that you’ve always dealt with ever since the accident but you've never told anyone, in a fear of being seen as unfit or crazy, y’know? so you’ve always kept it to yourself
and that is until you move into alison and mike’s big home after some money troubles (which you’re ever so thankful for) and as soon as you get out the car you see a group of people from different ages behind alison in the doorway
you’re trying ever so hard to ignore them when seeing alison again and her welcoming you in, but it kinda slips when you look towards thomas who has made some sort of romantic comment towards you and both alison and you look to him but alison catches you and is like ?!??!?!
“y-you can see them too?” alison asks and you really don't know what to say, there’s a silence before you just nod and you’re like “yeah. yeah i-i can, yeah” and then you explain everything to her and she tells you her story
when mike finds out you can see the ghosts too, man poor guy feels so left out and is like this is so unfair :((
a week or so pasts and now everyone knows each other and you’re all friends :D
alison is now happy and more comfortable as thomas no longer directs his comments to alison but now you, which you really don't mind at all and sometimes you’re honestly quite flattered
the captain quickly becomes one your best friends and he likes to be around you a lot as you listen to him and all his war stories and never shut him out, you enjoy his company and he really loves your company (he will never admit it though) but he feels comfortable around you
you like to go on walks around the grounds with him and just listen to him speak about whatever and such, just enjoying his company. you know he’s got a lot of feelings all bundled up inside and you catch onto his secret quickly, you let him know you’re always there for him if he needs
you always join in on the ghosts meetings or the talks they have set up for everyone - kitty always makes sure you sit next to her
kitty loves you a lot - often when doing your makeup or painting your nails you ask kitty what colour goes best and sometimes you even pretend to paint her nails or do her makeup telling her how beautiful she looks
people dont include humphrey a lot but whenever you do find his head you talk to him for a while and ask if you can do anything for him. sometimes you wish you could pick him up and carry him around, and keep him company more but you can't :( but he always appreciates when you sit with him for a bit
one night you find him on the roof and so you sit with him for a bit, looking at the stars and just telling him about your day and such
there’s one night where you are just having a horrible day feeling horrible about yourself and the way you look, and you’re sat staring into yourself in your vanity mirror. you’re a bit teary and just pulling yourself apart and thomas is suddenly in the doorway, and he’s like “if i may, have i told you how beautiful you are today, my dear y/n?”
and instead of jokingly telling him to go away, you smile at him, speaking softly “thanks thomas” he smiles back at you before walking off again.
but you quickly get out of the seat and rush to the corridor, “thomas” and he stops walking, his hands behind his back and looks at you before you walk closer to him, “i’d…i’d like to hear more from your poetry i-if you don't mind”
you two spend the next hour or so walking, just listening to thomas speak and the other ghosts just kinda look on at you two and are like aweeee:(( (my heart)
falling in love with ghosts is really a not a good idea
that time where alison and mike host a party and you are all completely drunk out of your mind, and even the ghosts are dancing with everyone, well just beware because julian will be dancing with you - mostly behind you but perhaps you don't hate that.. : )
whenever you come home from work, everyone is always excited to see you and they each wanna tell you about their day etc
alison and mike go on holiday just for a week, as an anniversary gift from you, so you’re basically left to babysit everyone for the week
its an interesting week, robin nearly burns the house down, you all lose humphrey (both his head and body) for a few days and cant find him, pat hosts a song competition,,, and well one ghosts proclaims their love for you and somehow tries to kiss you well yeah we can all guess probably who
fanny often complains about your outfits and how short some your skirts or whatever are and she just follows you around the house and is like, “THAT IS NOT APPROPRIATE! NO ONE SHOULD SEE A LADIES ANKLES!”
and your simply just trying to make a cup of tea, and alison gives you a sympathetic look as fanny is following your every move
the only ghost who doesn't mind you swearing is julian. sometimes his tory-ass will annoy you and you just give him the finger and tell him to f off, and he either laughs at you or is like “what did i do?”
the ghosts all support you in whatever hobby you have and always end up distracting you and asking you questions about it
and basically these guys are your best friends :))
if u want a part two let me know! or any request ideas for any ghosts i am down!! <3
#bbc ghosts x reader#bbc ghosts#bbc ghosts imagine#thomas thorne x reader#julian fawcett x reader#thomas thorne#julian fawcett#fanny button#lady button#the captain#pat butcher#pat butcher x reader#the captain x reader#alison cooper x reader#mike cooper x reader
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Thomas Thorne Going On About How Amazing He Finds You Would Include
Thomas isn’t one to not use his words. He’ll spend copious amounts of time trying to find the best words to describe you and how he feels about you.
This is objectively horrible for the other ghosts after a time, though Robin does appreciate learning some new vocabulary and Kitty and Fanny do occasionally have a fun time participating and throwing out suggestions.
But mainly, right words or not, Thomas finds many ways to say how wonderful he finds you. Magnificent, glorious, radiant. Those three he tends to throw around a lot.
No matter how fanciful he might say it, even the plainest words can show you how much you mean to him.
His favorite line that he’s managed to come up with is this: “For you to know your worth to me, and to the world, is akin to knowing all the secrets this universe has to offer.”
For 🧀 Anon
Thomas Thorne: @mattxxamryli, @casserole-from-dads-asserole, @alkalinebatteriess, @miscellaneous-fan, @fog-on-the-moon, @wellthen18203, @iciclesandsnow, @whenyouhaveanobsession, @iwillstealyourtoes-wattpad, @jukebox-opossum1313, @astrangequark
#thomas thorne#thomas thorne headcanons#thomas thorne x reader#bbc ghosts#bbc ghosts headcanons#🧀 anon#request
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relationship hcs ; thomas thorne
it’s a crime that there isn’t more bbc ghosts content in the tags, so i decided to contribute in the only way that i can
this is my first time writing for this series, so there may be some aspects that feel ooc
reader is written as being gender neutral
one of the most obvious things about thomas is that he’s a hopeless romantic; the sort that will go the full nine yards, and even further at times, in order to adequately woo and court whoever catches his eye
he’ll write/compose flowery verses in your name — sonnet after sonnet dedicated to the curve of your lip when you smile and the glow of your eyes in the moonlight
he will also perform these poems in front of you whenever he gets the chance irrespective of who you’re around — which after his death tends to consist of a very vocally annoyed group of his fellow ghosts and a rather zoned-out alison (as well as mike who, whilst having no real idea what’s going on, is just happy to be semi-included)
boundaries aren’t really a thing that thomas considers when trying to woo you, especially after his death, and he’ll traverse any boundary (social or physical) to be in your presence with the promise of a story or a proposition on the tip of his tongue
he’s incredibly protective of you and is quick to anger and offence when someone insults or dismisses you — which, however minor said action may have been, will be met with challenges, insults and promises of a duel
(which, considering his history, is either an incredibly stupid or oddly endearing thing)
though despite this general forwardness, he also tends to fall back on the methods of flirting that he was used to using in life — namely handkerchief folding — which can very easily lead to more confusion if you’re unaware of what he’s doing
he never stops romancing and wooing you no matter how long you’ve been together — whether it’s been days or centuries he’ll put in the same amount of energy into complimenting and dating you and ensuring that you feel nothing short of adored
he isn’t really used to having his feelings returned and has become uncomfortably accustomed to rejection (whether perceived like with isabel, or actual like with alison) — and whilst he would want nothing more than to be loved, the idea of his love being requited seemed like more like a dream than a reality
until you, of course, which would have come as quite the shock and would have left him nothing short of overjoyed and would have led to his overly dramatic flirtations becoming much more blatant and frequent
thomas is quick to jealousy (especially in his life or if you were alive at the start of your courtship) and he’ll address it one of two ways depending on the circumstances of your relationship
if he’s unable to interfere (e.g. he’s a ghost and you and the other party are alive) he’ll remove himself from the situation entirely by seeking out his sighing place and, well, staring forlornly out of the window and composing sad poetry whilst he waits for you to come after him
if he’s able to interfere (e.g. another ghost is the problem) then he absolutely will by inserting himself into the situation and turning your attention back to him however he can — usually talking loudly over the other person by announcing a new piece of poetry he’d made in your honour, or by challenging the other person in some way
the usual source of his envy is julian because of his overly sexual nature and his tendency to proposition you and do anything else he can to get under thomas’ skin
though the other ghosts can be the source of his ire if he deems them as having stolen your attention from him — especially if they’ve made you laugh or you’re spending more time with them than you usually would (such as if you entertain humphrey for a while whilst you go looking for his body, or if you watch through a ww2 documentary with the captain)
he will watch you undress and bathe if you’re alive, being something of a literal peeping-tom in death — but he’ll get rather flustered if you actively invite him to watch
also gets rather flustered if you return his compliments — or if you compose some poetry for him
if you’re in a situation where physical contact his possible then you can expect his clinginess to increase tenfold, to the extent that you’ll sparsely find a moment where he’s far away
he’s always there, always with his hands on you in some way: rubbing slow circles on your waist and hips when you slow dance at night; intertwining his fingers with yours and squeezing your hand every so often if he notices your nerves, bringing it up to his lips and chastely kissing your knuckles just to make you smile; squeezing your thigh lightly as you sit side by side or wrapping his arm around your waist as you lean against him during meetings; wrapping his arms around you from behind as he leans his head on your shoulder and watches you go about your day; gently playing with or even helping you style your hair; caressing the side of face after he kisses you or as he waits for you to wake up in the morning
doesn’t necessarily rely on nicknames (tends to call you by your name with the prefix “my”), but will call you things like “my love”, “my darling”, or “my heart” on occasion when he’s feeling particularly emotional
if you were someone he was courting during his life, he’d be very big on sending love letters and gifting you whatever he can get his hands on (be that jewellery or clothing or something else to your tastes), but in death he has to settle for memorising his poems and asking alison for help with things he can’t quite accomplish on his own
dates are frequent but usually rather relaxed due to your circumstances — with the most extravagant thing you can manage being whatever alison and mike can afford to arrange out of pocket (which usually isn’t all that much, but they do try to help)
#sleepingdeath#gender neutral reader#relationship headcanons#fluff headcanons#bbc ghosts x reader#thomas thorne x reader
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Oh that Thomas request with a forehead kiss was so cute. Could I pretty please request one where the reader and thomas start a relationship as ghosts and are super cute together. But most of the other ghosts just don't get it? They catch them holding hands or cuddling and the other ghosts just tease them until they finally realise how good thomas and the reader are for each other - 🌸 anon
don’t let the dreamer get lonely
This was such a cute request!! I hope you like it <3
Thomas Thorne x Ghost!Reader
You would think that after knowing someone for almost a decade that your fellow ghosts would be more observant to changes in your daily behaviour. Part of you is convinced that they have noticed and are just messing with you but deep down you know that most of them don't have the tact to do such a thing, especially Pat and Kitty. It can't be hard to miss all the adoring looks Thomas sends you, or spot the two of you when you go for your daily stroll to the lake for a moment of shared peace but the true nature of your relationship seems to have eluded most of your acquaintances.
The ones who know have been fairly upfront about possessing such information, you probably shouldn't have been overly surprised that Julian had been the first to work it out. Whilst you'd initially written the disgraced politician off as a crude fool, he didn't get to be as successful as he was without the eye for detail he obviously possesses. He'd been surprisingly happy to keep your little secret as long as it benefitted him every so often and to keep some semblance of normality you didn’t mind occasionally doing his bidding.
It’s not that you wanted to keep your relationship a secret per-se, it’s just been an enjoyable experience running around like teenagers in love. Thomas had been so bashful in the first few years when approached with any level of physical affection that it had taken months for him to even ask to hold your hand. Dating and courting rituals have changed so drastically since Thomas was alive that you knew the process of going from friends to dating would take a while but it had to move at a pace you were both completely comfortable with.
It doesn’t help that most of your fellow ghosts are quick to tease you and Thomas if you’re seen so much as holding hands. You’ve had more than one argument with Fanny over the implications that come with holding hands, since she can’t imagine a world where doing so without wedding rings is anything less than a cardinal sin. It’s almost fun to wave your entwined hands in front of her in the beginning, just to take delight in her mortified reactions.
It’s only when Pat almost walks in on a private moment that the cat is finally out of the bag about the two of you. He’d been on his way to his room when he’d overheard a loud laugh from one of the drawing rooms, immediately attracting his attention. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, not really, but it wasn’t hard to recognise your laugh and he wanted to know the cause of it. It’s only when he hears a quiet exchanging of words that it occurs to him that this isn’t the kind of conversation he can just walk into.
“You know, I think you were sent for me.” The way you speak is soft, like you're afraid speaking any louder would break whatever bubble you've found yourself in and it peaks the scoutmaster’s curiosity.
“You flatter me with your words.” Pat isn't particularly surprised to find out that Thomas was the source of your joy, the two of you are very close after all. But he's never heard you speak to anyone like that and he can't help his curiosity so the scoutmaster inches closer to the half-open door so he can continue listening.
“I'm serious Thomas.” The room goes quiet and Pat is almost afraid that the two of you know he's there and that’s why you've stopped talking. It's only when Thomas speaks encouragingly to you that he stops worrying about being caught.
“Go on my darling.”
“I remember when I was a kid I saw a shooting star on a camping trip to the lakes. My parents told me that I should make a wish and if no one else wished on that star then it would come true. Silly really, hundreds of people must have seen it, but when I wished and they told me it would come true I believed them.”
“And what did you wish for?”
“True love. It took a while, but I'm so glad you're my wish come true.”
“Your words put my poetry to shame my love.”
It's only when Pat hears a noise from somewhere in the house that he comes back to himself. He bolts away from the room, heading to where most of the other ghosts had congregated for Lady Button's etiquette lesson. Even Allison had joined for this lesson, mainly because Kitty refused to leave her alone about it. In his mind, Pat has an eloquent way of explaining what he's just found out but it all goes out the window as soon as everyone's eyes are on him.
“Thomas and (Y/N) are dating!” The room explodes into a series of confused and surprised exclamations, with only two ghosts remaining silent. Allison is the only person to notice that the politician sitting across from her has not changed his facial expression since before Pat ran in. If anything, Julian almost seemed bored by the revelation.
“Julian, you don't look surprised?” The ghost in question crosses his arms across his chest, leaning back against the couch he's resting on.
“Well they've been pretty obvious about it, if you ask me. I worked it out months ago.” The politician's expression settles into a smug smile as finishes speaking. Alison can't resist the urge to roll her eyes at his smugness, not all that surprised that he’s kept the information to himself. She doesn’t doubt that he’s used that information for personal gain either.
The other ghost that remained silent has still not spoken. Alison knows how close you and the Captain are, so it's more surprising that he hasn’t reacted to the idea of you secretly dating one of the other ghosts right under his nose.
“Cap?” The ghost in question seems to come back to himself at Alison’s gentle prodding, straightening up and clearing his throat. A hush falls over the room as the Captain speaks.
“He came to me about a year ago asking me for my blessing for him to begin dating (Y/N). Said it wouldn't feel right if he didn't ask the closest thing she has to a father figure. I of course said yes once he made his intentions clear, and they seem to be very happy.” At the news of the couple receiving the Captain’s blessing, most of the other ghosts seem to settle into the news, murmuring compliments about the two ghosts.
“I always thought they’d be sweet together. Just thought Thomas was too reserved to ever make a move.” Julian laughs at that, redirecting the attention of everyone in the room back to him.
“He looks at her like she hung the bloody moon. I dread to think of how much poetry he’s written about her.” Alison lets out an involuntary groan at the idea.
“As long as he doesn’t subject us to it at his next poetry lesson he can be as poetic as he wants.”
In the days that follow it becomes apparent to all the residents of Button House just how in love the newly revealed couple are. The most surprising thing to them is how it took them all so long to notice. Subtlety is not in Thomas’ nature, and Julian was correct in saying that he looks at his partner like she hung the moon. It’s sweet really, and the others make sure to start giving you space to be alone together.
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Forever Yours|
Thomas Thorne x Reader
A/N:Wow, pure fluff?? I know it’s amazing. Requests open!!
This is a picture perfect moment. Thomas and I cuddled outside, watching the beautiful sunrise. His arm is wrapped around me and my head is on his shoulder. We left the tent that everyone is staying in not too long ago, instead opting for some private relaxation with each other.
We do not even have to speak, our love being conveyed through the way we hold each other. I feel Thomas shift as he gives me a kiss on the top of my head. I smile and look up at him, returning his gesture with a quick kiss.
“What are you guys up to over here?” Alison asks, approaching the spot where we are sitting.
“We are watching the sunrise. Would you like to join us? It is particularly gorgeous today,” I offer. Alison hums as she sits down next to me and we sit in silence for a moment.
I glance at Thomas, noticing his contemplative face. “What are you thinking about, my love?”
Thomas looks at me, “I was just thinking it ought to be dull and commonplace. The same sunrise, over the same house, in the same tiny piece of England. Everyday, for over two hundred years. But it is beautiful. I traveled miles and was unchanged when I could have been here and transported. It is no fault of the sun if the eye sees not its beauty.” My smile widens as I listen to Thomas’ speech. I love it when he is poetic.
“Wow, Thomas… That’s very poetic,” Alison says, thinking the same as me. Immediately, Thomas’ face brightens. He is always smitten to a compliment, but one from Alison can mean a lot, due to the fact that she has always doubted his skill.
“You really think so?” Thomas asks enthusiastically. Alison smiles as she gives him a small ‘yeah.’
“Of course it is Thomas! You are a great poet,” I express.
“That means the world coming from you, dear.” I smile at him. He is so cute when he brings out the puppy dog eyes and broad smile. I have always loved how vehement he is. He never does anything halfway, or at least tries his best at all times.
“And if I may,” Thomas starts. “Shall I compare thee to a summers day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate-“ Alison quickly leaves with a roll of her eyes and an ‘oh my god’ as Thomas starts reciting Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 18.”
I could only giggle at Thomas he turns to face me and grabs my shoulders. Through my laughter, he continued to passionately recite the poem to me, never breaking eye contact.
“So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long lives this and gives life to thee,” he finishes.
“Thank you, Thomas. How can you even remember that?”
“With you around, I can do anything. Your love gives me extraordinary powers.”
“Does it now? What kind of powers?”
“Oh, I would love to show you, but I am afraid that I need a recharge.”
I scrunch my eyebrows, confused on where he is going with the bit. “A recharge? How would you do that?”
Thomas slowly grins, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. “Why, with a kiss of course!” I can only roll my eyes playfully.
Seeing this, Thomas continues. “What? I am telling the truth! Without a kiss from the most alluring and heavenly woman, I cannot save the world with my poetry.” He manages to keep a completely serious face, like this kiss is of the utmost importance.
Deciding to play along, I lean forward with a visage of worry. “But, Thomas, who is this woman? We must find her so that you can get your kiss!”
Thomas’ eyes briefly shoot down to my lips before returning to my eyes. “This exquisite woman is you,” he says softly. With the tone he used, I cannot help the butterflies in my stomach.
Thomas puts his hands on my jawline, cradling my face. He tilts his head and his eyes flutter close as he leans in. Our lips fleetingly brush together before going in for a firmer kiss. I throw my arms around his neck, tangling my hands in his hair.
His lips are soft, like they always are, and he kisses me delicately but lustfully. His unadulterated love being showed by the gentle way he caresses my face. My stomach flutters at the thought that I am his and he is mine.
We finally pull back, breathing heavily, and I gently run my hands through his curls. I give him one last peck on the edge of his smile. We come to a silent agreement that this will have to wait because everyone would likely start to file out of the tent.
We turn back to our previous position; with my head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around me, tracing patterns on my arm. The smell of old ink and parchment on him provides a calming affect. I take a deep breath, relishing in the scent of him. I could sit here all day with him, just us holding each other.
Thomas is the first to break the silence, “I love you. I need you to know that I am forever yours.”
I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck, “I love you too.”
#mathew baynton#x reader#fanfic#thomas thorne#bbc ghosts thomas#bbc ghosts#bbc ghosts thomas thorne#thomas thorne x reader#bbc ghosts alison
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indulging in impropriety ; 18+
pairing ; thomas thorne x female!reader
word count ; 3028
warnings ; porn with some plot, premarital sex acts (gasp!), handjob (male receiving), oral (female receiving)
read also on ; ao3 | wattpad
It was the height of winter when you’d first met, with your estate coated in a thick blanket of snow entirely unlike the usual weather of England — a still and undisturbed winter wonderland that provided a beautiful contrast to the comfortable warmth and endless movement that characterised the internal goings on of your family manor. Men and women of gentle breeding were mingling freely, sharing polite laughter over the rims of wine glasses and dancing with perfect poise about the ballroom as your staff busied themselves with serving your prestigious company.
A gala, entirely of your parents’ making, that provided them with the perfect opportunity to bump elbows with their contemporaries and show off their wealth and esteem through the sheer scope of the event. Their estate was spotless, full of life yet feeling entirely un-lived in; their staff were silent and effective, remaining seen yet unacknowledged and completely devoted to their duties, which they carried out without complaint or flaw; their clothing was of the highest quality, rich in look and feel, and reflecting of their influence and conformity of the expectations of your social status — and then there was you. The daughter they kept well educated and well groomed, perfectly obedient and quant as you stood at their side and entertained your guests with grace and humility; beautiful in voice and in form.
Though through all of the conversation and movement and light, you found yourself becoming so terribly overwhelmed and politely excused yourself to an adjacent hallway. A mild headache, you’d insisted, nothing that couldn’t be fixed with some fresh air and a moment or two to catch your breath (hopefully away from some of those suitors that were eyeing you up rather shamelessly from across the hall).
And it was in that hallway, away from the rest of the small world you’d known, that you came face to face with Thomas Thorne for the first time.
He was everything you could have hoped for in a suitor, even if you’d caught him terribly off guard: perfectly polite and gentlemanly to a fault, greeting you with a kiss to the back of your hand with a quiet apology on the tip of his tongue; passionate about his craft irrespective of how he was perceived, having been reciting some sonnets beneath his breath and scribbling away on a piece of parchment when you made your presence known; beautiful of soul and body, with curls the colour of oak wood upon his head and eyes so wide and dark that you felt yourself getting lost in them. Wonderful, intelligent, polite and thankfully not betrothed to anyone else.
The perfect man of your era; and the man you then proceeded to court in relative secrecy over the next few months until your families could meet for a formal discussion of your potential union. A meeting you both eagerly awaited.
————
As you exited the carriage alongside your parents, you tried desperately to soothe your nerves, smoothing out the few creases of your dress — happy to be finally getting the opportunity to court and woo him publicly but afraid of any protests your family could raise against him. Though, thankfully, you just about managed to regain your composure and, with the words of his last letter still ringing clearly in your mind, you quietly followed your parents into the Thorne estate.
The meeting itself was terribly plain and unexciting, filled with very drawling discussions of finances, employment and intentions — of children and heirs that you could see the idea of had sent your love into a veritable rabbit hole of thought (at least if the flushing of his cheeks was anything to go off of). Though it seemed the only relevant parties in the conversation were your parents and Thomas, so your mind was free to wander so long as you kept up that polite, smiling facade and nodded at suitable intervals — a skill you'd honed since childhood.
And lord did your mind wander, diving into some more inappropriate ideas that tended to torment you whenever you were around your love. Thoughts of doing the most crass acts that you'd heard of in whispers from married friends and even from some of your more trusted staff members — most often the maids that you'd entrusted with delivering and carrying the letters you and Thomas tended to exchange. Acts that had you pressing your thighs together beneath your thick skirts and digging your nails into your palms to ground you back into the moment.
Not that these attempts were particularly successful, however, as having him so close by whilst being entirely untouchable was too much for your mind to handle and you began to internally indulge in those fantasies — taking full advantage of your company’s obliviousness towards you in the process.
————
You allowed yourself to imagine what it would feel like to have him so completely (so intimately). What his hands would feel like as they explored you, explored your body. for the first time, how gently and curiously they’d map out every spare millimetre of skin as it was exposed to him — tracing a feather light touch from your jawline to your ankles, stopping only where you needed him most. What his lips would feel like when they pressed against the column of your throat and slowly, methodically, made their way lower; how they’d suckle and massage the soft curve of your breasts and kiss a path down from your sternum (grinning against you as he felt the hummingbird rhythm of your heart beneath his lips) to the soaking apex of your thighs. What he’d feel like when he was inside you, and how you’d take any form of him in his entirety over not having him at all: tongue, fingers or sex.
Anything, everything, of his you’d gladly take — adore, worship. And you were certain he’d do the same.
Would he compose poetry against you? Turn you into yet another medium to spread his art; mouthing sonnets into the flesh of your stomach and thighs, tracing intricate letterings with his fingertips along your hips and sides, and tracing the tip of his tongue along your most sensitive parts to coax music of your own creation from your lips. Would he turn you into a performance, an orchestra, a passionate play?
You hoped he would. God, how you hoped.
He was the muse of your most private thoughts, the moments that transpired only in the dark solitude of your quarters where you allowed your hands to stray sinfully between your legs and his name spilled so freely from your lips like a mantra, a prayer. Your divine adoration, your Eros and Apollo in equal measure; skilfully igniting such passion in the same breath that he conjured artful phrases from nothing.
A poet in the truest form and you couldn’t wait any longer to have him in his entirely (and from the heated nature of your last correspondence, you knew he felt much the same way).
So the moment that Thomas offered his arm to you in order to give you a proper tour of the estate, you all but leapt at the opportunity to get a moment or two alone — politely bidding your parents farewell and walking with him through the well-decorated hallways of his home.
————
“… and this is the dining room,” Thomas gestured broadly to your surroundings before placing his hand back over your own, “we only really make use of it when we have company, I prefer to dine where I work and mother tends to take her meals outdoors whenever she can,”
“That hardly surprises me,” you jested, leaning your head against his shoulder as you made a most useful observation, “though you don’t seem to have many members of staff, my dear; unless they’re just in hiding?”
“Hm?” He turned to look at you quizzically for a beat before continuing. “I suppose not. There has only been the two of us for the longest time and we very rarely host any guests, so I suppose that I never really considered such a thing.”
You nodded at that and, after taking a very cursory look along either end of the hallway, all but dragged Thomas into the empty room and closed the door behind you — shoving him back against it in a single smooth movement that left him rather shocked to say the least.
“Darling I have something I must confess,” you began, pressing your hands against his chest gently but firmly as you scanned his features for any sign of discomfort or hesitance, “your last letter has… haunted me; leaving me with so many thoughts,” you inhaled sharply and leaned in close to whisper the next bit into his ear, cautious of being caught in such a compromising position even still, “inappropriate thoughts of you, of the two of us. And I fear that I am no longer able to fight them,”
You heard him take in a sharp breath and as you pulled back you could see his cheeks and the tips of his ears had gone a deep shade of scarlet from your words. Though, whilst he did avert his eyes somewhat, what he said only spurred you on to take what it was you so dearly wanted — no, needed.
“My apologies, my love, I hadn’t intended to leave you so deeply affected in our time apart,” another shuddering intake of breath, “though as your betrothed it is my responsibility to take care of you, protect you, so I beg of you to let me know what it is that would soothe your pains.”
“My pains?” You laughed quietly in spite of yourself, hands trembling as you reached up to caress the side of his burning face. “My dear the only thing I long for is to have you — but I know not how to have you without besmirching your reputation or risking our engagement.” Then, with a start and a sudden epiphany, you continued, “Lest we act without any true consummation?”
“And how do you propose we do that?” Thomas asked, voice a higher pitch than you’d ever heard from him as he fought through his flustered demeanour to meet your eager gaze, wide pupils giving away his own want as clear as day.
“I have heard a few things from some married friends of mine and would be happy to partake, if you’d allow it?”
And the nod that he gave was all the encouragement you needed as you quickly pressed your lips against his in a long-anticipated and passionate kiss — hands coming up to tangle in his soft, curly hair whilst his found an unsure purchase on your waist.
————
Not breaking the kiss, you reached between you both with one hand and began to fumble with the buttons of his breeches for a few moments before you finally managed to pull them open and reach what you were aiming for. The moment your fingertips grazed the base and length of his dick, Thomas moaned against your lips and bucked into your touch, his grip on your waist momentarily tightening before he caught himself and began to massage your sides with his thumbs in a wordless apology.
But that muffled moan was nothing compared to the litany of verifiably lewd sounds that escaped him when you pulled him from his clothing and began to shyly jerk him off. Every pump of your wrist, every squeeze of the root, every time you massaged the leaking head with your thumb, every long movement coaxed another beautiful sound from his soft lips that you greedily swallowed as you kept him upright against the dining room door. And, for your part, every sigh and moan and groan only spurred you on further — building your confidence as you began to get faster and more consistent with your strokes, settling into a rhythm that suited you both.
It didn’t take long for him to start outright fucking your fist due to his over sensitivity and inexperience, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you rode the high of being in such a dominant position over your future husband. Of being the first and only person to draw such noises from his throat, to see him in such a disheveled state.
And, a few moments later, the first to see him cum as he spilled his seed into your hand with a particularly vulgar moan that sounded vaguely like your name as it reverberated through your body — moving from your lips to heat your blood before settling in your very bones as a desire that burned your every nerve. Though, kind as you were, you continued to gently pump along his throbbing cock to help him prolong his climax (mentally thanking your dear maid for passing on such a trick to you a few weeks prior).
Then, once he seemed to have calmed down, you pulled away just enough to place a few chaste kisses on his nose and lips before reaching for his handkerchief and using that to clean your hand and wrist. Thomas, meanwhile, was full of apologies and praise as he held you close and rested his forehead against your own; all “that was amazing, my love”s and “you are a most wonderful temptress”s in a breathy voice as he regained his composure.
At which point he was rather determined to return the favour and insisted on you sitting down on a nearby chair as he hastily redressed and knelt down between your open legs — unsure of what exactly he was to do but trusting you to guide him and wanting nothing more than to please you (as was the duty of a (future) husband).
————
After taking a moment to tug your undergarments down your legs and carefully setting them aside, Thomas took a deep breath and moved your legs to have them resting over his shoulders. Being confronted with the sight of your dropping sex seemed to leave the poor man breathless, though, as all you could feel were his hands massaging your thighs and he tentatively stuck his tongue out and licked a stripe along your slit — from your clit to your entrance with such gentleness that you could barely feel his presence.
Though the moment you let out a sharp gasp and dug your fingers in his hair, he seemed to regain his resolve and swiftly began eating you out with an endearing messiness that had you grinding against his face and tongue. He alternated between drawing figure eights on your clit and plunging his tongue into you (following the stuttered instructions you’d passed on to him just moments before), all the while moaning and groaning into you. He’d also occasionally break away to offer the lewdest of praise that had your head spinning and your skin burning with a mixture of desire and bashfulness, biting down on your lower lip to stifle the moans and whines that threatened to escape you.
My Aphrodite. My Venus. My Galatea. My Andromeda. My goddess reborn; all beauties of the past and of myth could only pale in comparison to your light, your smile, your eyes. He’d insisted with such passion as he devoured you whole, his movements and touch so entirely unrefined and unsophisticated that he was more animal than man as he feared between your legs — savouring your flavour like a rich wine yet at the same time gorging himself like a starved beggar at the king’s feast.
A poetic contradiction so entirely Thomas that you began losing yourself in his praise, his touch; throwing your head back in ecstasy and slamming your hands over your mouth to silence yourself as yet another wave of pleasure wracked your body. Though still, Thomas continued to ruin you and built you back up from the rubble; ravish and worship you like a deity whilst tongue-fucking you like a common whore; whispering the sweetest of praises with the same tongue that was buried deep in your aching, throbbing cunt. Uncaring of being caught in the moment, uncaring of anything that wasn’t you: your body, your voice, your flavour and your pleasure.
But only did you truly lose yourself to the cascade of pleasure when he began to make use of one of his hands; latching onto your clit with his lips whilst plunging two fingers into your soaking wet pussy. Only then did the endless waves of hedonistic need start to overwhelm you, drag you under and drown you as you came with a start; drenching his mouth and wrist with your essence as he greedily drank everything you gave him — continuing to pleasure you through your climax.
Yet still with blurred vision, heaving lungs and bitten raw lips you could just about make out the continual praise he was sending your way. His words, as always, poetic and his tone low and sensual as he composed poetry against your sex — moaning and groaning each time you bucked into his face as if he were the one in the throes of nirvana in your place. As if he were the one who’s mind was wrought with a barrage of thoughts of him and him alone: touch, body, voice and especially that wonderful mouth that turned you into a living art piece for his praise and devotion. An alter to yourself.
After all was done, you couldn’t help but crave him even more as you gradually came down from your high and looked down at him as he knelt obediently between your parted thighs. The dishevelment of his soft hair, his blown-wide pupils that were positively brimming with love and lust, the way he eagerly licked his fingers clean of your juices when he finally removed them from your spent core. He was so effortlessly erotic in everything he did; making beauty look far easier than it ought to.
And for a few moments you allowed yourself to bask in the afterglow of intimacy, temporarily forgetting the positive impropriety of what you’d done, and thanked every deity you knew of that you’d be able to spend your life with Thomas Thorne — as, after all, you couldn’t imagine being like this with anyone but him.
#sleepingdeath#smut one shot#smut#bbc ghosts smut#thomas thorne smut#thomas thorne one shot#thomas thorne x reader#female reader#not sfw death#18+ account#minors dni#minors do not touch
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