#thomas thorne x reader

[bisexual-thoughtss]

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.

[bethsvrse]

★ MISTLETOE ★

PAIRING Thomas Thorne x fem!ghost!reader

WARNINGS peer pressure from the other ghosts, kissing??

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.

[effloradox]

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

-

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.

[multi-fics]

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 stomped your foot gently on the wooden floor and Thomas spoke quietly from inside his room, “The door is open.”, you sucked in a breath and walked through the closed door. “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.

[chiefdirector]

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

[alternativefriend]

Okay, someone didn't tell me how good Ghosts is. I'm not even kidding, I forced my mum to watch all of Season 1 with me last night. And also, WHY IS THERE SO LITTLE THOMAS THORNE/READER FICS ON AO3??? I'VE READ ALL BUT TWO BECAUSE THEY WERE OF MULTIPLE CHARACTERS???? HELP??? I NEED MORE!!

[sunnyy3d]

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."

[vintageaurelia]

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.

------

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.”

-----

I hope you all enjoyed! Probably not the best work ever, but I thought it was cute :)

[noforkingclue]

I'm not sure if you still wrote for Thomas Thorne but if you do would you write a fic with him and prompt 8 from the in bed together prompts please?

Note: requests are currently closed

Of course I still write for him! I love Ghosts (the BBC version) and love writing for it :)

Hope you like the fic!

Prompt list: list

Title: Night Time Talks

Ghosts tag list: @violetlucreziastuff, @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You let out a sigh of relief as you lay down on your bed. Who knew that being dead was so exhausting. Today just seemed to be one drama after another and not even Alison could seem to be able to sort it out. Oh well, hopefully things will be better in the morning.

“My dear, are you asleep?”

You opened one eye and looked up at Thomas. A guilty look crossed his face and he sat down on the bed.

“Sorry,” he said, “did I wake you?”

“No,” you sat up and rested against the headboard, “can’t seem to get off to sleep. Maybe it’s because you’re not here.”

Thomas gave you a bright smile and jumped on the bed. He rested his head against your chest and looked up at you. You smiled down at him and started stroking his hair. Thomas closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh.

“How was your day, my love?” you asked him

“Oh wonderful! I managed to get up early to see the sunrise.”

“Yes, I was wondering where you were when I woke up this morning.”

“I wanted to wake up earlier to capture the moment. To try and immortalise the beauty of nature for everyone to see.”

Thomas sighed and snuggled closer to you. You wrapped your other arm around him and pressed a kiss against his forehead. Thomas leant into your touch and smiled softly.

“So, why the sudden urge to write poetry in the early morning?” you asked

“Does one need a reason to create art?”

“I guess not.”

“The truth is,” Thomas rolled onto his back and smiled up at you, “I wanted to give you a present. Alas, it is a shame that I cannot hold a pen anymore.”

His hand rose to his chest where you knew that damned letter was. His expression fell a little bit but he quickly brightened it again.

“I wished we had met while we were both still alive,” he said, “and for me to have given it to you. I always found it romantic to give the one you love the most penned in your own hand.”

You sighed and briefly tangled your fingers in Thomas’s hair. He let out a soft hiss and you quickly loosen your grip.

“Sorry,” you said, “reflex.”

“I know.”

“Why don’t you tell me the poem.” you said

“But what if you forget it later.”

“Then you’ll just have to repeat it to me.”

You closed your eyes as Thomas launched into his poem. You gently stroked his hair as the sound of his voice slowly lulled you into a peaceful sleep. You were vaguely aware of Thomas’s voice slowing down, confident words turning in sleepy murmurs as your actions helped relax him. The two of you slowly fell asleep curled up in each other’s arms.

[jamiewintons]

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.”

[mermaid-trash]

Nothing but the Best

Thomas Thorne x Fem!Reader Smut

A/n: this one goes out to my Baynton Babes who totally inspired this work ❤️ this is smutty, so no minors allowed pls 🔞

Description: Thomas loves eating you out...that's literally all there is to it.

Word count: 866

Your muscles were aching from overstimulation, your throat scratched with every moan, and the sun had long since begun to set over Button House for the day, yet Thomas still seemed quite satisfied between your parted thighs. What had begun as a romantic midday rendezvous between you and your favourite poet had turned into several hours of his brown curls settled between your legs as his tongue delved deep into you and pulled orgasm after orgasm from you. Not that the time mattered, of course. You both had forever. The thought made you never want to leave this bedroom again.

You gasped as his tongue ventured up to circle your clit, blindly grabbing for his glossy chocolate curls to ground yourself as raw pleasure crackled in every nerve ending in your body. His hands held your hips down against the mattress firmly yet carefully, and his thumbs rubbed circles over your hip bones soothingly, the only reprieve he allowed you from his eager assault on your core.

His tongue began to dance in strange movements around your clit, and through the exhaustion that clouded your brain you slowly realised that he was tracing letters against your sensitive bud, writing incomprehensible words against your skin while his brown doe eyes studied you carefully, studying your reactions to see what brought the best noises from you.

"Are you…writing something?" You gasped out between moans, as his mouth did not give you a reprieve for even a moment.

For a few moments he didn't reply, too preoccupied with his chosen task, but eventually he withdrew his lips from your core just enough to mumble, "Yes, my love."

His tongue dragged up the length of your slit eagerly, eliciting another broken gasp from you, before he added in clarification, "Poetry."

He returned to his task, his tongue darting this way and that over your clit sloppily, and you wriggled against his solid grip on your hips in an attempt to get more satisfaction.

Through the haze of pleasure that coated your senses you tried to follow his movements and recognise the letters he was tracing in cursive.

R…A…D…I…A…N…T…

W…A…R…M…T…H…

G…O…D...D…E…S…S…

Each word filled your heart with warmth and brought you that much closer to the edge that he had already pushed you over so many times today, and you arched against his mouth with a desperate whine. Thomas groaned, pulling away from your soaked core and fixing you with an awe-struck look that made your heart sing.

"My love, I have not written in so long…" he began somewhat wistfully, tracing his hands from your hips down your inner thighs with a delicate, barely there touch that had your thighs trembling with excitement, "but your body is the finest medium to trace my work onto that I could have hoped for, my love."

With that he dove back in, and after his sincere words you wouldn't have the heart to stop him even if you had wanted to. He watched you from behind hooded eyes and groaned as you rocked your hips needily against his face, still writing his beautiful words of praise against your clit with enthusiastically sloppy movements.

W…O…R…S…H…I…P…

H…E…A…V…E…N…L…Y…

A…D…O…R…E…

His wonderful tongue had barely finished tracing the last letter of this declaration of his feelings before you were diving over the precipice, back arching and mouth hanging open in a silent wail as he continued his onslaught. He abandoned his writing to fix his lips around your clit and suck gently, prolonging your orgasm until your body seemed to melt against the mattress,your muscles all turning into jelly under the intensity of your orgasm.

As you came down, face flushed and stray hairs stuck to your moist forehead, Thomas pressed soft kisses to the skin of your thighs and murmured words of praise that you couldn't hear past the roaring in your ears. For a few moments you simply laid there, basking in the warmth of the moment with him, slowly catching your breath as your fingers absently toyed with his impossibly soft curls.

"That…wasn't really poetry, darling." You said eventually with a soft smile, "They were just words."

Thomas hummed, and you glanced down to see the same soft smile you wore mirrored on his own lips, his head resting against your thigh. His chin was still slick with your wetness, causing heat to flare in your cheeks.

"You do not think that that lived up to my usual work?" He asked, his voice playful and light, and you pretended to think for a moment.

"It was very…stream of consciousness." You retorted just as playfully. Suddenly, Thomas's hands had siezed your hips again, and you looked down at him in surprise to see a glint of mischief behind his brown eyes.

"Perhaps I should try again, then?" He offered, lips dropping to hover over your sensitive centre, his breath whispering over your soaked folds tantalisingly. "After all, you deserve nothing but the best that I can offer you."

A tiny whimper escaped you; it seemed you wouldn't be leaving this room for a while longer.

And what a way to spend an afterlife, you thought, as Thomas's mouth met your skin once again.

[mysoulsickened]

on your other blogs, you do stardew, an inspector calls, and ghosts — would you ever write for them? like, x reader or character x character?

I was thinking about opening a masterlist for An Inspector Calls. I don't know if I'd write for the characters romantically — like, come on, who would want Mrs Birling? (Other than me...) But I would definitely consider doing x reader's platonically for them as well as mini-essays with annotations, layouts, icons and such.

Stardew... maybe? I've only ever romanced Harvey in the three years I've had the game for, so I'd have to look more into the other bachelors and bachelorettes for that! But I definitely would consider it. Maybe sometime in spring. Spring is Stardew-y.

BBC Ghosts is also a maybe. I don't think I could manage writing romantic x readers for anyone other than Thomas, the Captain, or maybe even Pat... but I could try. Anons / requesters would have to specify exactly what they want for it, though — like, "Mary x Reader!!!" Okay, when, what era is Y/N, is Annie still there, post-being-sucked-off, or what?

[effloradox]

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.

[multifandomfix]

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

[sleepingdeath-light]

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)

[of-apollo]

People of various fandoms…

I am cutely asking for any requests! I’d love to get back into the swing of writing, but am not sure what to write so would love some ideas from you lovely people!

I write ship requests, but also x reader imagines and headcanons! I’ve tagged some of the fandoms and characters I write for, but please do check my navigation for my fandom list and request rules! 🫶🏻