battybumboy

[battybumboy]

Stupid De’aths

Doctor De’ath x Death

A ship I made on my main account. I needed fan fiction about it.(This is mostly just a crack fic for me to reblog to my main to self promote but oh well) I’m weird so sorry if this is a mess.Dont judge lmao.

Summary:

Two dead guys give each other the eyes across a coffee shop and Death is obviously a bottom.

Death had found himself in a situation he was unfamiliar with. The feeling he was currently experiencing was one he hadn’t felt in years. The dead weren’t meant to feel things... right?

He had been wandering through the afterlife and had entered a coffee shop- as you do. What he didn’t expect to happen was to see the most beautiful being he had ever seen sitting on a table across the coffee shop.

He sighed, ‘Does the author know the coffee shop setting is very unoriginal? I guess they’re just lazy’ he thought before going to the counter and ordering a cup of tea.

Across the shop, a reaper by the name of Doctor De’ath sat with his friend and sipped his coffee. He had seen the other being enter the coffee shop and was now gossiping to his best friend, and right hand man, Doctor Do’om about him.

“Did you see that lad who just entered?” He questioned quietly,

“You mean the one off the telly?”

“Well he was the one that just entered, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, I know. Keep your cloak on!” Dr Do’om exclaimed, just quietly enough for the conversation to go unheard by their fellow dead people and coffee shop goers, and smiled jokingly, “Well?”

“Oh yeah, anyway, he’s well fit, isn’t he?!” Dr De’ath whispered to his companion excitedly,

“Oi oi, saveloy! De’ath. I don’t know how to tell you this mate, but he’s probably a player .”

“You think so?”

“I know so. He’s full of himself and he isn’t worth your time. You’re wayyy out of his league!”

“But I think he’s cute.”

“I’m not judging.” The two chuckled and continued sipping their coffee.

Back to Death who was now sitting at his table with his tea, occasionally glancing in the direction of the other reaper, ‘I’d let them step on me.’ He thought before looking back at his slowly emptying teacup in shame at the impurity of his thoughts.

He drunk more of his tea before looking back up at the new person he fancies to see them looking back at him. His heart skipped a beat as he looked down and away from the piercing grey eyes of the being across the shop.

Death felt more flustered than he ever had in his life and kept his eyes locked on the, suddenly, very interesting looking cup of tea before him.

The two across the shop looked to one another, De’ath raising a brow, “Why’s he acting weird?”

“I bet he has the hots for you. As I said, you’re out of his league.”

“Yeah, but he’s hot.”

“No ones stopping you from getting his number.”

“I’ll wait. I’ll probably never see him again and if I do, THEN will I will give him my number.”

“Why wait?”

“Do you want me to date him because I swear five seconds ago you claimed he was a player.”

“Sorry. Look, you can date who you want. Don’t listen to me.”

“I’ll always listen to you. Pals before gals, mates before dates, put your friends that stick before some random dic-”

“Stop! Ok! I get the point...” he paused before grinning, “Thank you.”

Death couldn’t stop thinking about the mysterious person and their breathtaking face with their hypnotic eyes and their-‘oh god, pull yourself together, Death.’ -case in point.

‘What if they don’t like me?’ was the thought that plagued him the most. He knew that his show wasn’t everyone’s bucket of tea and he worried that on this occasion it might stop him from getting to know this handsome stranger. ‘Play it cool, Death. Play it cool.” He recited in his head.

He gulped the rest of his tea and looked back to where he last saw the person, but they were already gone. Disappointed, he stood up and got ready to walk out of the café to get back to work.

“I’m going to play this smooth.” De’ath said, once outside of the building. He had finally decided that he was going to try to date Death.

“What’s the plan?” Dr Do’om asked as he grinned at his long time friend,

“You’ll see.” He chuckled before putting his plan into action.

Death stepped outside, hoping he’d be able to see this new person again. He’d hate to miss the opportunity to get with someone so handsome.

As he was walking, thinking and not looking where he was going, he crashed into a person slightly taller than him and fell to the floor.

Instead of apologising like a normal person would, Death furrowed his brows, getting on his knees ready to stand up as he looked up at the person who had gotten in his way.

His breath hitched as he was paralyzed by gay panic... as you’ve guessed, it was the cute guy from the coffee shop who was looking down at him. His gay panic increased when he realized the position they were in. (With Death unintentionally kneeling in front of the stranger.)

“I’m sorry, dude, I wasn’t looking. I’m Doctor De’ath.” He spoke. Death shivered at how intimidating, yet playful the Doctor De’ath’s voice was, the new feeling increasing.

“Uh-“ his voice broke, “h-hi.”

“Yep. Hiya.”

Death coughed before wheezing out another sentence, ��This is dead awkward.” The person chuckled at that. Oh how he loved that sound.

“Might want to stand up... though I must say how you look better on your knees”

That’s it. Death was so sure he was going to combust, he could feel it in his bones. Suddenly, a force picked him up and helped him to his feet. (The doctor was surprisingly stronger than he looked) A hand was outstretched before him and he took it. Death looked up at Doctor De’ath before finally speaking again,

“I’m Death.”

“Oh I know.” He spoke softly before kissing the back of Deaths hand, “Call me.” he said before twirling him around and wondering off into the crowd followed by his mate.

He was confused about why the person had just wondered off like that before looking at the palm of the kissed hand that fizzled with a phantom electricity where the reaper had graced his bony hand with his lips. There in his palm was a piece of paper with a number and a little sentence at the bottom written in beautiful hand writing that read,

‘All you need to do is call and the Doctor will see you. ;)’

“That smooth bast-”

“That was incredibly well done, very smooth.”

“I know.” De’ath chuckled as they continued walking away from the bewildered reaper.

[battybumboy]

He had fallen | | Thomas Thorne

No ones catching on to the Ghosts x reader bandwagon that I have built but this wagon isn’t gonna fall to pieces, not on my watch! Here it is... Part three of the Falling series!

Part one is Here

Part two is Here! Incase yous missed it!

Enjoy part three...

-🍯xx

_____________________________

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ - contains a scene of PTSD. You can still read at your own risk but 🔥🔥🔥- means a trigger warning. When you get to the second set of 🔥🔥🔥-s then it is clear.

————————————————————

“JULIAN!” came the angry shout of a very upset Thomas Thorne. It was the fifth time that week that said ghost had upset the poet... and it was only Wednesday.

Alison, one of the two only living residents of the house, was in the kitchen cleaning out the fridge. She, and every other resident of the large house (except for her very much alive and very much oblivious husband) had heard the commotion. The only thing was... every time Alison had came to check what was wrong, all she was met with was a silent, sulking Thomas and a smug and, if he were alive, very punchable look on the trouserless Tory’s face.

No one knew what Julian was teasing the poet about but it seemed to be serious enough to be kept quiet although Julian’s new muse was getting all too tiring for the other housemates.

“Can that mewling loaf not be so bothersome for ONE DAY?” The pirate said, smacking her head upon the table as she sat with Kitty, Mary and Fanny. The four ladies liked to gossip, (as much as Fanny complained of the unladylike behaviour) so Alison untucked a few chairs and placed down a few empty teacups as if it were a real tea party,

“I should think not. It’s rather like we don’t get any peace and quiet around here.” replied Fanny, as she looked to Y/N in agreement,

“I think we should all be friends! Just like N/N, you get along with everyone”

“It does take a lot of my patience” Y/N replied, truthfully,

“It woulds be more quiets if we weres” Mary countered

“Quite.” The previous owner of the house agreed, correcting her posture before failing to grasp the teacup.

“Right, you lot can stay here if you like. I’m going to try and get to the bottom of this.” Alison said, throwing an old bit of Brie in the bin before strutting out of the kitchen.

“I’m coming with!” Kitty exclaimed excitedly, following Alison upstairs.

“I might as well see what all that racket is about”

“Sames.” And with that, everyone except the pirate had left the table.

She was wise enough to know that the closest thing they were going to get to an explanation out of Thomas was a wave and a mumble of “you wouldn’t understand” before a small sigh.

She hadn’t the faintest clue what was wrong with the poet but it was clear he was avoiding her and ignoring the offer to talk to her. She knew it was nothing to do with her but deep down she was scared he had started to dislike her company. This caused for the pirate to try and get in his good graces again by giving him space but she was unsure if it was helping.

Y/N continued to stare into her teacup again, listening for anyone. It had felt like forever and just when she was about to go up and check on them, there came a thunderous slam.

The feeling of being mentally dragged back to the past filled Y/N’s vision.

🔥🔥🔥-

Y/N I am sorry. But as I have said. You shouldn’t have came home.

“Henry?”

You’re not welcome here anymore. It had to be like this. It just had to.

“Henry... what have... Hen-”

I’m so sorry. You picked your side.

RED. SO MUCH RED.

Pain

A slight sob

The feeling of being dragged

I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t want to do it. Honestly.

“Henry?”

Sleep now Y/N... Captain L/N... the greatest pirate.

You can sleep... I’m so sorry...

L/N?

🔥🔥🔥-

”L/N? Are you okay? Oh my god she’s crying! That’s a tear!”

“We can see that, Kitty” came Julian’s reply.

Suddenly pulled back to reality, the pirate realised that everyone was crowded around her in the kitchen. The feeling of vulnerability had suddenly dawned on her... a feeling she hated.

“Uh- I’m fine. I’m not crying, I just got watery eyes. It’s fine!”

“You don’t look fine. You’re shaking, mate.” Pat said from beside her, oh gods, no getting out of this one.

“I’m fine! I promise! I just thought about s-someth-thing... a bit too hard. I’ll be okay in a moment.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Alison asked earnestly, “It’s ok if you’re not.”

“I know...” Y/N sighed, not liking the fact she might’ve worried the others. “I’ll be fine” she forced a smile that seemed to convince almost everyone. “Thank you for you concern though.” slowly the crowd dispersed from around the table and went to do else-what elsewhere... but Y/N noted how Thomas hadn’t shown his face. She was fine. It didn’t bother her. Why would it? She was fine.

Robin was the last in the room. He looked Y/n in the eyes before sitting down in Fanny’s abandoned seat,

“You’re not okay.” He started, Y/N looked at him, eyebrow raised,

“Pardon?”

“You sad, I see in eyes”

“Robin-”

“It okay to be sad. No one happy all time.” He said sincerely, placing a hand on her shoulder,

She sighed and paused. This man. (If he counted as a man) had seen everything, he was there as soon as she’d died, back to when Button house was a lowly field, “Well. Yes, I’d say I’m rather sad.”

“Want to talk? It ok if you don’t”

She contemplated for a single second before smiling softly then looking down at the oak wood table,

“I guess I spent my life sailing away from my problems, my family, my life and every untaken opportunity. I had no husband or children to call my own... only a few friends and miles of sea. But... when I came home, my past decided to shoot me in the back and toss me away. It hurts... even though it was hundreds of years ago. But It got better and, even though I’m over it and it being centuries ago... I occasionally remember.”

“I understand. It been a long time for both of us- I sometime remember too. It turn out okay. We die, the world move on but we always remember when we could move on too.”

“You made my death feel less lonely, Robin. I’ve never been able to thank you properly for that. So, thank you.”

“Thank you too. I needed friend. I was lonely and you turn up so I was happy for company. After years being alone. I wait and wait. Then you came and I wasn’t alone.”

She smiled. Robin was her best friend, nothing more. They both understood each other and at times when they felt most alone, the other always turned up out of the blue.

Thomas walked past the kitchen, wondering why everything went so quiet when suddenly he heard the angelic voice of a fellow ghost,

“I had no husband or children to call my own... only a few friends and miles of sea. But... when I came home, my past decided to shoot me in the back and toss me away.”

“Thomas! Julian has something to say to you!” Came a muffled call from the east wing.

The poet rushed away from the kitchen quietly in order not to disturb the two hushed voices. He clambered up the stairs thinking about what she said and a mix of emotions stirred within him.

He was partly angry at himself for eves dropping but the anger melted to sadness at her words. And suddenly he realised... maybe she needed to be there for her as well.

Thomas regretted ignoring her for his own sake, not realising she had been feeling down too. He just didn’t want the pain in his heart and the butterflies in his stomach and the feeling of not being able to stop staring at her charming (almost handsome) beauty and-

Suddenly it hit him. The realisation he never wanted to have but everything added up... the way he felt warm around her and sorrowful without her. The fact that he could barely look at her without his (unnecessary) breath hitching and the way he felt like he’d been blessed every time she gave one of her smiles reserved just for him...

He had fallen.

———————————————————-

So sorry it took so long and for major sad :/ It was originally planned to be happy until I realised you guys still don’t have a clue who Henry is. I hope you enjoyed part 3! 🍯xx

[battybumboy]

But he was falling |Pt 2 | Thomas Thorne

Part two of And he was falling. I decided that leaving this story on a cliff hanger wasn’t fair. :p

There isn’t any other ghosts characters xReaders that I know of on the Internet... sooo... I had to make more!

Thomas Thorne x Female reader

Find and read part one here! :

Enjoy part 2!- xx 🍯

______________________________

Two glassy eyes look at the figure opposite them “Henry?”

“You shouldn’t be here! You’re a criminal!”

“I came to see you! You know how painful this day is!”

“You have no rights to be sad! You’re involved with the thing that caused this mess! You’ve picked your side!”

“I didn’t only travel here for that! I came to see you as well!”

“You shouldn’t have bothered! You need to leave!”

___

“L/N?”

“L/N?”

The pirate jumped at the feeling of someone tapping her shoulder and was immediately brought back to her senses by the dozens of eyes that were looking at her with expectant gazes.

“I’m sorry chaps, I must’ve started daydreaming. Repeat the question?” The other ghost, Julian, groaned in mild annoyance as the other ghosts sighed along with him.

“Who do you think would win a game of chess when we were alive. Me, or Pat?”

“Oh, uhm... that depends on how much chess you both played in your lives. Well, I knows that Pat was a man who liked many ‘a game so Pat I suppose. No hard feelings Julian- it’s just that if you were to play during your life... it would soon evolve into more than a game of chess.” This was met with a moment of agreeing murmers.

“I see your reasoning and I must say, you’re quite right.” The MP replied, “You know, one night, me and Margot- we were having a spot of chess- and, you see, we were slightly tipsy after having... one to many glasses of wine and I- we-” Julian’s speech was suddenly interrupted with a number of groans from his peers, all attention now lost from Y/N, “Anecdote, people! I’m telling an anecdote!”

“Yes. Very good, Julian. Now that this silly debate is over, which has gone on- quite frankly- long enough, we can get on with what I have to say.” The Captain spoke, “Right. I have a complaint about something we all know has been going on for quite a while now...” he paused to look at the blank faces surrounding him before resting his eyes on a particular person, “What ever is the matter, Thorne! You’ve been- sitting around like a pile of melancholy limbs ever since that argument we had! If this is about what I said, please know that it was a heat of the moment thing.”

“Oh no... it’s quite alright. In fact, it rather opened my eyes to the subject of my love for Alison.” This to was met with an ovation of groans as the poet continued, “I’ve realised that Micheal and Alison’s love is a bond unbreakable by a hand of no flesh. I shall cease my wooing for no where will it get me if I want the love of another but Alison. Me and Alison were so close, yet so far. Our ships are never to get closer, yet lie in the same port on opposite sides of the dock. I know that although my heart will suffer... I’m doing the right thing and everything will be ok.”

“Wow...” came the small reply from Julian as everyone looked at Thomas, his head bowed and eyes closed softly. An overwhelmed silence lay over the other ghosts as they looked upon their most irritating housemate in shock

“That’s a lot of emotional baggage.” Julian continued, causing Y/N to lightly hit his shin with the toe of her boot before giving him a half amused glare.

“Yes, t’was what I thoughts. Lots and lots of emotions.” Chipped in Mary.

“Quite melodramatic If you ask me.”

“Well it’s a good thing no one did then, isn’t it, Cap?” Y/N replied, playfully.

“It’s Cap-tain” the Captain answered back, fondly.

“Did I stutter?” she winked playfully before turning back to face the majority of the crowd before Pat spoke up,

“I believe it was very brave of you to share that Thomas.”

“Oh pl-ease! It’s not like there’s anything he doesn’t share with us!” commented the mildly amused MP,

“I think it’s healthy for people to share their worries with the people they love!” Kitty replied, as always the sweet ball of sunshine,

“I seconds!” Exclaimed the peasant Stuart lady,

“Quite” Lady Button responded

“Well I do keep some things to myself.” The poet said, a soft smirk on his features for proving the politician wrong.

“Really? Like what?”

“That would be none of your concern, Julian.”

“But come on!”

“One hasn’t the must to share every woe they bare, ought they plead not to” Y/N chided, always the voice of reason.

“Easy for you to say, Captain Secretive! We don’t even know your first name!”

“Tell that to Cap over there.” She responded, rolling her eyes so hard that, if she were to roll them any harder, they’d have fallen out of her head,

“It’s... Cap-TAIN, L/N!”

“She has a point though, Captain.”

“She only told us her name because I was also a captain and you can only call one of us captain.”

“I felt the need not to be problematic... if the newly dead were to kick a fuss then it’s curtious to fix the problem they mewl ‘bout” Y/N said, before winking for the second time that hour.

“Yes but most of these lot went two, maybe three, centuries without any clue of your name.”

“Guys! Please! Settle down! Secrets of our lives can be kept a secret, secrets in general can be kept as secrets.” Pat said, directing the last part to the forgotten poet of whome was looking more more conflicted by each jab the other three ghosts threw at each other.

“A lady always keeps a secret!” Came Fanny’s stern reply,

“Aye, thank you, Lady Button.” the pirate replied, sending a grateful smile at the lady whome was only older in appearance, yet so much younger in age.

“I believe that the only secrets that should be shared are ones at sleepovers about people you have feelings for and want to start pining but need advice on how even though it might be unaccepted because of reasons to do with religion...oh and the secret that you ate or stole something you shouldn’t have” Kitty exclaimed, still smiling.

“That was oddly specific, Kitty.” Lady Button responded, eying the happy Georgian woman.

“Oh yeah, that’s because I once ate more cheese than I was supposed to” she said with a giggle as the rest of the room looked at the naive woman, brows raised,

“Not that one, Kitty, the other one.” Fanny corrected

“Oh? Oh yes! Does a bit... Just make sure the person your pining isn’t at the sleepover. That would be awkward... oh and the friends you’re with are ones that are trustworthy- people might tell the church.”

“Does there be witches?” Asked Mary, looking at Kitty’s faultering smile before a look of nervousness,

“Oh, I hope not. Well, at least I don’t think so.”

“Rights”

“I think they have by now”

“What?”

“Oh, you were just saying right...”

“Well, I agree with Katherine. Secrets that are held close can be kept secret”

“But t’isn’t the greatest sin to ask advice and spead few ‘a rumour on the status of ones love life.” Y/N countered

“On the subject of love, all of us love food... and that leads us on to food club!” Pat exclaimed excitedly

“Whoopie-doo” came The Captain’s sarcastic response before Mary stood up to tell the group about the best way to make butter.

“Thorne?” Y/N whispered quietly to her melancholy friend

“Hm?”

“Remember... if you need to talk, ‘bout anything at all...”

“Right- yes... I’ll.. tell you.”

The poet kept mentally denying the fact that he was slowly but surely catching feelings for his housemate but the nagging at his mind never stopped... neither did the frantic butterflys in his chest or the urge to be near her. But he resided in the fact that it would possibly go away and turn out to be a silly phase. At least he hoped, for his heart couldn’t bare to be rejected... not again.

He looked at her soft features and felt a twinge in his quiet heart. Thomas couldn’t help but smile at her softly; He didn’t want to love again...

But he was falling

____________________________________

I hope you liked part two! Part one did ok so I’m making it into a series! -🍯xx

Part 3-

[battybumboy]

And he was falling || Thomas Thorne

Im pretty sure this is the first reader insert about BBC’s Ghosts that anyone’s made- let alone with Thomas Thorne. Let me know what you think.

P.S. this is what I do instead of sleeping when I’m meant to.

-🍯Xx

❗️Female!reader ❗️

The readers occupation and life status is a suprise. 👀👀

Icy wind blew the trees sideways like poor boney hands open to receive the first thing that was placed into them. Clouds coated the sky in a thick woollen blanket, impenetrable by the sun.

Rain spat down making ripples in the solitude lake below like tears in a murky, cold bath and the temperature was cold enough for one not to bare without a thick coat.

The ghost submerged neck-deep in said lake did not feel the bitter chill of the icy waters, nor did he feel the wind through the thick chocolatey curls piled upon his head- he was dead and had been for over a hundred years.

The ghost in question was a very upset Thomas Thorne who had stormed off after a row that had ended with his fellow housemate and ghost, the Captain, shouting.

It’s not that he wasn’t used to being scrutinised by his peers but the words that were shouted were ones that hurt. ‘Nobody cares about you or your rubbish poetry and your failed love life. Grow up Thorne.’

‘Does nobody really care?’ Thoughts plagued Thomas’ mind. The fear of truth in the soldier’s words alone stung as painful as the sting of an angry wasp. ‘Maybe he’s right. Why do I even bother with harbouring these feelings for fair Alison anyway?’

It wasn’t to far a stretch for the young poet to understand that the only living woman in the house didn’t reciprocate his feelings but he never failed to try and take his shot at happiness.

The lake water didn’t soak his clothing and the sludge at the bottom didn’t make a mark on his dainty, heeled plimsolls which for the living would be abnormal... maybe even a miracle depending on the situation but for ghosts, this was a daily part of their excistance. A constant reminder that nothing living related to them anymore.

The soft sound of heavy boots came trudging from along the banks of the almighty pool of water; which Thomas, being his melodramatic self, pretended to pay no heed to- his head still facing the other direction in a rather distressed manor.

He could hear the unnamed footprints stop at the waters edge and a weight slump down on to the muddy earth beneath them. He had to push down the small flicker of hope that perhaps this person came to coax him inside due to genuine concern as he continued to listen for clues as to who the mystery person was.

“Thorne..?” Came the warm yet strong and slightly gravely female voice of another housemate. The being in question was a person who was there before him and had subtly helped him through his death. A young pirate by the name of Y/N.

Y/N was an anomaly of her time- one of the only female captains of any ship... let alone pirates. She had died a while before Thorne, no one knew how. It was one of the many secrets that only the walls of the house could know. The walls of the house... and the deceased herself.

She had watched Thomas through, not only his death, but his life too, holding the knowledge of all the mishaps through the love-starved poets life. The amount of times he had been let down was not a pretty number. She knew how silence could drive him to hatred and overthinking, which, in Y/N’s opinion was surely much worse than any grudge that anyone could bare on the dandy poet.

So there she was. At the side of a lake watching every flicker of movement from Thomas with steady, watchful eyes.

“Have the others convinced you to come and get me or are you here to taunt me too? ” the poet jabbed, cursing himself for sounding harcher than he had intended. He enjoyed attention and didn’t want to waste it.

“No.” Came her sincere reply, “I’m here to tell you something.”

“I am in no mood to be patronised by some fony pirate!”

“I’m not here to poke fun at you, Thorne! I have more decency than the others and I know better than to worsen your mood when you’re in this state.” she exclaimed, honesty lacing her voice.

“Lay open then! I was in the middle of hard work!” he bit his toungue at how impolite he was being. She only wanted to tell him something and perhaps fetch him from the lake. It wasn’t like he enjoyed being there, he was just too stubborn to get back to land without someone coming to get him first.

“I just want to tell you that I heard your argument with Cap- yes I know it’s bad of me to not call him captain but he still isn’t telling us his name-” the first part of Y/N’s speech sent Thomas’ stomach plummeting at the thought of her siding with the Captain. He didn’t know why he cared so much about how she felt but he pushed away his thoughts, turning to the pirate and nodding for her to continue, “I assumed you need to know that I disagree.”

The poets eyebrow rose as he fully turned to face the woman. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean what I say. He’s wrong. Someone cares about you.”

“Who? Name a single person who has ever bothered to look at me twice! You can’t! Because no one cares for a melodramatic washed up poet. Go on. Try your best to name a single person who cares!” Thomas responded, exasperatedly.

“Me! I care.” The pirate said, her voice soft as the realisation dawned on the poet’s face. The realisation that she had always been there no matter how much he rambled, no matter how cold he was or how unbothered she seemed... yet he never took her acknowledgment into consideration.

“Oh.” The poet responded, the lines in his forehead ironing out and his snarky tone dropping as a fluttery feeling sprung up in his chest.

“Well. C’mon Thorne. You can’t stand in this lake all night... if we were able to feel temperature I’d tell you that it was warmer inside. Besides... don’t want to miss your turn on the tele-vis-ion.” Y/N said, standing up and brushing the imaginary dirt off of her long navy blue jacket with her oversized shirt cuffs and offering her other hand to the quiet man who begrudgingly took it and climbed up onto the muddy bank.

The silence between the two was comfortable and understanding, a newly found middle ground for the unlikely duo.

The silence was broken as Y/N turned to the poet, “If you need anyone to talk to- about anything at all... I’m always here.” She chuckled before adding, “I mean, I can’t physically go anywhere else... so I always will be here, but you get my point.”

It was as if a mask had been unveiled from Y/N’s face, for Thomas had began to see her in a different light. A light that shone brighter that any star he had ever seen. Walking along with her, her weapons swinging in their holsters below her jacket causing a soothing rhythm of clicking and tapping. It made a new sensation form in the bottom of his stomach. Her presence, not only felt authoritative but also slightly homely, the homely feeling he had never felt from another woman, whether they were one he was trying to woo or not.

Thomas quietly chuckled in agreement before the two returned to the understanding silence.

When he first met the intriguing pirate she had been loud and seemingly unbothered by the fact of her death. She was friendly, he would go as far as to say that she was friends with the other dead members of the house, but he was convinced it was her being the charismatic pirate she was.

In all honesty... he never truly noticed her. Upon his death and meeting the ghosts, it was like moving into a new house and you never notice how beautiful the design on one of the ceilings are... until one day you do and you immediately fall in love with how much character it has. She was just a piece of unmovable furniture to Thomas, who had just noticed her...

And he was falling.

____________________________________

Ok. Hoped you liked it. I might make it into a series if it gets enough positive feedback. Constructive criticism only please! And also, please don’t steal 😊 Have a nice day/night dears! xx

Find and read part two here

https://miss-letters.tumblr.com/post/619380849732911104/but-he-was-falling-pt-2-thomas-thorne

[battybumboy]

Beautiful | | Simm!master

I found this one in a oneshots book I made on WattPad from a while back. Hope you enjoy!

xx 💋

♔ Summary ♔

You had moved away from Gallifrey hundreds of years ago and now live in a flat in central London with your noseless, alien dog, Peter. You never expect to cross paths with the person you used to relate to the most again, but when you do... it feels like it could be the start of something beautiful.

⏱ TimeLord!Reader ⏱

❗️Tall!Reader ❗️

For Timelords, Timeladies Bannakaffalatta

Y/G/N-Your Gallifreyan name

😁!Fluffy!😁

It was a regular day in London. You were happily walking your extra terrestrial dog through a quiet park, ice cream in one hand, lead in the other. The two of you were having a conversation, Peter talking about life on Barcelona, you quipping in occasionally a few facts about Gallifrey. It did gain a few strange glances from the few other strangers enjoying the warm, Friday morning, but you dismissed it down to them not knowing how to speak dog.

You looked up at the sky before inhaling the dirty London air. The air may be filthy and polluted, but it smelt like home. Not home as In the "mighty" planet millions of light years away, no, it smelt like Earth. Earth smelt like the freedom beyond the strict suffocating rules of your home planet- it smelt beautiful.

Looking back up at the sky, you saw the distant angry looking clouds and felt the air pressure change. It was going to rain soon. Luckily for you though, you always kept an umbrella in your pockets... well you kept everything else in your pockets as well but let's just focus on the umbrella.

You looked down at Peter as he whined in annoyance, "Great... rain..." he grumbled. You sighed and looked at the frowning pup. All of a sudden, you had an idea...

A few moments later...

"Why do you even have a dog raincoat in your pockets?" Peter said, bemusedly.

"I have many things in my pockets, Peter." You reply with a laugh.

"Yes- but a m i n i r a i n c o a t"

He said , emphasizing his point. This caused you to giggle at the dog as you gazed down at him, fondly.

"Well-" all of a sudden, you bash into someone running at full speed, sending them toppling over.

"OH MY GODS! I'M SO BLOODY SORRY! I DIDN'T SEE YOU! I WAS HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH MY DOG- Trust me- ITS NOT AS WEIRD AS IT SOUNDS!"

It was a short, blonde man in a black hoodie. He looked panicked and dazed while on the damp gravely floor...

"Uhm I'm Y/N..." you said, looking at him properly, "I recognize you from somewhere..."

He looked up, annoyed. "I know what you're gonna say-"

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks. The childhood memories came back. Startled, you blinked once or twice before looking back at him with a shocked expression.

"Koschei??"

"-Former Prime Minis-" he looked at you shocked. "I was expecting something... just not that." He looked back at you shocked and opened and closed his mouth like a puzzled goldfish, but then turned to your alien dog happened to be licking his face.

You extended a hand to help him up which he excepted, before pulling himself up off the floor. He looked at you thoroughly before going wide-eyed.

"Y/G/N???"

He suddenly wrapped his arms around you tight as if you would disappear again. Two thousand years away from a loved one does this sort of thing to you.

You, in response to the almighty hug, hugged back just as tight. You heard sniffles coming from the smaller man, whose head was buried into your shoulder and realized you were crying too.

The drums in your head were now a dull buzz, but this man understood.

"What are the chances of you being on earth... I thought you were lost somewhere in the universe... or worse...." he whimpered, his voice muffled by your shoulder.

"Can't get rid of me that easily... I went on a mission with many others into deep space to fix the fabrics of the universe... the rest died... I was the only one to survive. I looked back at Gallifrey and it was gone before I could say 'mission accomplished'."

"Theta's doing..." The Master mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing"

"So..." you began, "how have you been doing these days- I mean- it's been thousands of years... the last time we saw each other... was the day I was sent away..."

He looked up at your glossy, e/c eyes with his own chocolatey brown ones, he whispered under his breath, "the drums". Looking down you shudder, remembering the ever-present drumming in your mind.

People told you it was just your pulse or the beginning of insanity... you knew you weren't crazy.

Your Koschei heard them too.

"I still hear them, Koschei... they've always been there."

That was when it had clicked for him... he wasn't alone. Looking at your face which looking down at the ground

"I still love you, Y/G/N... it's ok if you can't- if you don't-" you stopped him mid sentence by placing a kiss on his smooth delicate lips.

"I love you too, Koschei... The universe is so small, yet so inevitably big. They say coincidences don't exist but if they do, then I'm so happy they brought me back to you"

He grinned a soft, yet, maniacal grin as you took his hand. "I have a place you can stay if you weren't planning on going anywhere" you offered gently.

"Yeah... I'd like that."

At that, the two of you walked hand in hand to the little basement flat on Baker Street. You knew it was the start of something great, something wonderful, something... beautiful.