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[wet-denim]

Merry: What is the ONE thing I always tell you. Sam: Never kick an armadillo. Merry: The other one thing. Frodo: Don’t go to a hooker just for therapy and then pay in rolls of quarters. Merry: The other one thing. Pippin: Gatorade bacon and excedrine is the best hangover cure when you accidentally chug a bottle of vodka thinking it’s water. Merry: Still not that one... Boromir: PLEASE keep guessing.

[wet-denim]

Found my way back to you

A/N: Something for our CACW broken and sad boi Tony? Written for @fandom-free-bingo Here ya go. Special mention to @nicoline1998enilocin for proofreading, love you girl 💛 Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed the story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger! F! Reader (our reader has Falcon-like abilities and Red Wing as well)

Warnings: Angst, hurt comfort.

Word count: 4.3k ish

Square filled: “Please don’t go.”

Fandom Free Bingo Masterlist

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“Please don’t go.”

You weren’t sure you heard it at first as the voice seemed fainter than a whisper. Collecting your forgotten phone from the conference table, you were almost out the door when you heard him speak. Tony Stark sat at the far end of the table, nursing a glass of whiskey, his eyes downcast and shoulders drooped. There was a pleading in his voice that you couldn’t turn down.

Ever since Pepper left him for good, Tony had been heading towards a steady downfall of self-destruction. He was never one to talk but the team knew it, you knew it. You silently prayed that he would seek help and not be so stubborn for once. But you knew better than to push your teammate.

“What happened today, Tony?” Grabbing the nearest chair, you slid into it and waited for Tony to speak. You frowned as he took in a deep breath, as if preparing himself to relive whatever he was about to say.

“I met a lady named Miriam Sharpe today at MIT. She had a son, Charles Spencer. Great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia. He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” he raised his eyes to meet yours finally, guilt and regret swimming in them, almost drowning his soul with it. Pressing your lips in a thin line, you remained silent. How does one process this kind of information anyway?

“He would have been working at Intel come fall. And now…She blames me, Y/N. And she’s right. I blame myself. I created Ultron. It’s my fault.” his voice was so low, you had to strain to hear. You could see his guilty conscience eating him alive, and your heart broke for the man.

“It’s not all your fault, Tony. We all share responsibility for what happened in Sokovia. Could we have done without the blood-thirsty artificial intelligence that threatened an extinction-level genocide? Sure. But you have to stop blaming yourself for Ultron. We got him, he’s gone. The world is safe again, the Avengers made sure of that. You made sure of that, remember?” you reached out to place your hand over his, he didn’t resist, instead he gave you a small nod indicating he understood your point before offering you a small but grateful smile. Your words provided him comfort, temporary though, yet he was battling a world of obsessive thoughts on the inside.

Excusing yourself, you headed out the room once more, only for Tony to grab your attention once again.

“The world is only safe until the next big threat, Y/N. And then what? Another conference where I meet another parent of yet another child that didn’t deserve to die? We need to be kept in check.” he muttered assertively, downing the rest of his glass before heading out the door himself. Leaving you to ponder over his words that somehow rang true the more you gave it a thought.

.

“So you’re really going to leave huh?” Clint Barton knocked on your door softly before he made his way to your room, followed closely by Natasha Romanov.

“Yep. I’m really leaving.”

You were packing the last of your suitcases, cramming one of the many photo frames that held a picture of you with the team. A Midgardian suit-clad Thor stood tallest brandishing his humongous glass of beer, right next to Steve, Nat and Clint; Tony had decided to go for dramatics as he laid down in front of all of you, his suit jacket discarded as he laughed pointing at Bruce who had just spilled his drink down his shirt - all thanks to Red Wing - your trusted device that you secretly used for a jump scare. It was worth it. Taken at one of Stark’s parties, everybody looked happy, less frown lines, less stress. Good old days, you thought.

“That was a good night.” Clint chuckled, pointing at the picture and making you nod in agreement.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Natasha pulled you in for a hug, making you tear up in the process. She didn’t try and convince you to stay, she was probably the only one who truly understood why you chose to step away, even if she didn’t agree with the decision.

“I’ll miss you too, Nat. More than you know. You too Legolas. Don’t die on us.” you chuckled after hugging Clint. The nickname Tony gave just sort of stuck around, and it irritated Clint the most which is why you always chose to call him that. Both of them were the closest thing to family around here for you.

“I feel like I’m probably gonna be the only one who miraculously survives, Y/L,N.”

“Seriously though, be careful you guys. I have a feeling this is not going to end well.” you added, zipping up the last of your bags. Saying their final goodbyes, they left you alone.

Your room was now empty, all packed up into boxes, the space looked smaller somehow, even though it wasn’t. It was time for you to start a new chapter of your life and close this one. It came with unfinished business but you chose to move on. Whatever moving on from a superhero life meant.

.

“Please don’t go.”

Those three words rang in your ears months after they were uttered. As much as your heart wrenched, you had to leave, it was time.

The Sokovia Accords lay on the polished oak table, bringing dreadful silence across the room. It was hard to believe what your world had come to, and yet here it was. A choice. A choice that nobody benefitted from, except maybe the government. The accords meant that the Avengers would no longer function as an independent association, instead, the government would control and track their moves and influence their decisions. Not signing them would be considered as retirement, so there was no easy way out of it.

Did you agree with them? Absolutely not. Was it necessary? Probably. What shocked you most was that Tony Stark had agreed to comply, in fact he was coaxing each and every one to sign the papers. You knew what was about to happen. And you knew where you stood.

It didn’t make sense for you to stay anymore.

So you left. Retired as the government had you call it. And Tony tried to stop you, once. He assumed you would fight by his side no matter what. And for a brief moment, so did you. You wanted to be by his side, however, what Thaddeus Ross had asked of you was simply unacceptable. You could never live with your freedom taken away from you like that. It wasn’t regulation, it was manipulation and you couldn’t believe Tony for siding with it. It broke your heart.

And so with that broken heart, you fled town. Bought yourself a country home and a small farm with animals, you made a good life for yourself. A life so distinctly different from the one you previously had. No fights, no aliens dropping from the skies, no threats, but no Avengers either. And more importantly, no Tony.

It came as a huge shock the day King T’Chaka was killed in Vienna, and the terrorist later identified as The Winter Soldier only was going to make matters worse, you knew that.

A part of you felt guilty for leaving, while another part was relieved to be away from it all. The constant tug of war gave you several sleepless nights. The main cause for those was the fact that you left without saying goodbye to Tony. You wondered if he hated you for it. He probably did. The two of you were…complicated to say the least. The nature of your relationship was never clear, it came with baggage, one you were more than willing to carry before you were presented with the Accords. There wasn’t much left to say when Tony Stark became spokesperson for regulating and controlling the Avengers under the government’s shadow. Arguments seemed futile when the man was determined on what needed to be done to keep the team in check.

.

An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That's dead. Forever. - Helmut Zemo

Tony Stark was a man left wounded by many battles, some he drew upon himself, others he didn’t. The Sokovia Accords had caused a schism in the Avengers, a public feud with Steve Rogers and those he trusted at an airport in Germany. He had now the burden of involving a child in the fight, and the fact that he almost lost his best friend. Rhodey was built an exoskeleton to aid him in walking after he recovered, that was the least Tony could do. Although James never blamed him for anything, deep down it cut him that he was responsible for most of mayhem caused.

And then there was you.

You had left the team, left him without a goodbye. Disappeared one night without a trace. Tony felt abandoned by the one person he had hoped would never leave, and yet you had. He had had many sleepless nights thinking about you, hoping that one day maybe out of the blue you would come back and explain yourself.

And now you were gone.

.

Tony,

I’m glad you’re back at the compound. I don’t like the idea of you rattling around a mansion all by yourself. We all need family.

The Avengers are yours, maybe even more so than mine. I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith is in people, I guess. Individuals. And, I’m happy to say that for the most part, they haven’t let me down. Which is why I can’t let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn’t.

I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I’m sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand.

I wish we agreed on the accords, I really do. I know you’re doing what you believe in, and that’s all any of us can do. That’s all any of us should do.

So no matter what, I promise you, if you need us—if you need me—I’ll be there. The team may be scattered for now but I believe if and when the time comes, we will assemble as one. And it’s probably not my place to say this but, Y/N stepping down certainly does not mean she’s no longer with the team. She is out doing what she always dreamt of, living a normal life. Something all of us wish for every now and then. I hope you guys work it out someday. Take care, Tony.

Tony stared at the letter after reading it for the fourth time, the flip phone that came with it still in his hands. His mind invariably wandered to the last bit of Steve’s message. You.

Over the past few years, Tony had come to realize how integral you were, not just to the team and your contribution but to his life too. He had on many occasions found himself seeking you out for a chat, it always made his heavy heart just a little lighter. From the moment you joined the Avengers, you had intrigued Tony Stark. He admired you for your abilities, you were more capable than you were given credit for, you were compassionate, kind and a team player. You never said much but whenever you did, you always knew the right things to say, especially to Tony.

He recalled many occasions where you had leant a listening ear when he had wanted to rant, provided a logical solution when things seemed to get out of hand. He would never forget the comfort you provided when Pepper left him. You were there, holding his hand, hugging him tight when he asked to be left alone, knowing how much he needed a human touch. He didn’t fight it, instead he had let himself be held by you, by arms that provided safety, touches that soothed him and words that rendered all the uncertainties silent.

And yet you had left the compound without a word, or maybe without a conversation with him. It angered and worried him in equal parts.

The more he thought about it, the clearer the picture became of your possible whereabouts. One particular conversation stood out indicating where he might find you, memories of that evening brought a smile to his face as he recalled.

“Farm animals, definitely. I will get myself an alpaca, call her Ms Brain.”

“Are you serious?” you giggled, looking at Tony incredulously. The man was always full of surprises. You were lying on your backs on the compound lawn, it had been a particularly eventful day. Tony found you out here all by yourself, staring up at the gray sky. Getting him to lie down with you wasn’t easy but you managed, bribing him with his favorite whiskey later.

“What about you, Y/L/N?”

“Hmm..Let’s see. I want a huge backyard where I will grow my veggie garden, make the most delicious foods, and have a cat since I’ve always wanted one. Somewhere peaceful and quiet, away from the city, of course. Some place that’ll show me actual stars instead of these twinkling airplane lights, you know?” you murmured, chuckling as a plane flew right above, its red lights mixing with the gray smoke and clouds before it disappeared, effectively making its point.

Tony remained silent, turning his head towards you so he could see your face, your eyes still focused on the sky, he gazed at you fondly. Admiring you for having the courage to dream of a different life so freely, something he used to be able to do but now it all seemed too far off.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Y/N?” Tony murmured, reaching his pinky finger out to entwine with yours.

“I’m just picturing you on a farm with Ms. Brain on a leash.” You smiled looking down at your hands.

“Do you think about running away from it all?”

“All the time.” Tony replied promptly, turning his body to face you as you did the same.

“What stops you from doing it then?”

As if on cue, his phone rang, disturbing the quiet of the moment. He murmured a ‘that’ under his breath before sitting up to answer it, thereby ending your little heart-to-heart.

.

It was a lovely spring morning when you awoke. Your usual wake up call was meowing his way up your bed, demanding to be fed. Once the cat had his fill, you made yourself a cup of coffee and breakfast and went about your day.

Your life out here was simple, just the way you wanted it to be. Your savings had bought you a decent sized house with a large enough backyard garden for you to grow your veggies - something you always dreamt of having. The difference was so stark, it took you a while to adjust to this new life. But eventually you did. The peace and quiet it brought you was indescribable. But that didn’t mean you didn’t miss your Avenger life. To be more specific you missed the team, mostly Tony Stark.

You felt horrible for leaving without notice, especially after finding out about the fight that took place in Germany. You often found yourself wondering how he was dealing with everything. Did he have anybody by his side? You knew the answer to that. Did he get back with Pepper Potts? You didn’t want to find out the answer to that.

As evening rolled by, you poured yourself a glass of wine and got started on dinner, hearing a sharp knocking sound on your door right after. Frowning, you wiped your hands on a napkin and went to open it. You weren’t expecting anyone.

On the other side of the door stood the man you least expected to find, and yet the same man you were hoping to find all this time.

Tony Stark.

He wasn’t the Tony Stark you recognized. No. He seemed different, and not in a good way. His face was still the same, handsome, striking and yet it lacked the usual charisma. There were several bruises decorated all over his face, some healed, others on their way but definitely promised to leave a permanent mark. Words had escaped your vocabulary as you stood there dumbfounded, until he cleared his throat.

“Tony.”

“Y/N.”

“You’re um, you’re here.”

He gave you a nod, grateful that you stepped out of the way to let him in, still trying to process. Red Wing flew in after him, having scanned him for being a potential threat. It was a habit you couldn’t shake off, even in retirement, you were prepared for the unexpected.

“You turned Red Wing into a bellboy? You should’ve left with Dum-E, he would’ve been the perfect lawn mower.”

He made you chuckle, immediately reminding you of the Tony you had missed all these months. A part of you was relieved to see him, your heart beating with excitement now that there seemed a possibility that he was here to see you.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

He shook his head in a no, explaining he had had too much coffee before, his trembling fingers spoke for themselves. Wordlessly, you made your way towards the kitchen, putting on a kettle of water to make him a cup of chamomile tea instead.

“Will you stay for dinner? I was only just getting started.” you offered, taking his noncommittal shrug as a yes.

He seemed to be busy digesting your new home, the surroundings that now glowed under the light of the setting sun. Your cat jumped out from his hiding spot, greeting Tony by walking between his legs, rubbing his scent over him, already claiming the man as his.

“He’s never that friendly with anyone.” you pointed out, smiling a little when Tony bent down to scratch him behind his ears, causing a cat to purr in appreciation. You brought him a cup of piping hot tea which he accepted wordlessly, taking a seat on your couch where you joined him. Several moments of silence passed where you watched him blow on the hot liquid before taking a small sip.

“You left without saying goodbye to me.”

Tony’s words fell on your ears but cut right through your heart. You should’ve been prepared for this to come up.

“Would you have stopped me from going, Tony?”

“No. Probably. I–I would’ve wanted you to stay and fight back, Y/N.”

You laughed humorlessly, shaking your head at the thought.

“Fight you, you mean? You know I was never going to sign those Accords. I was not going to fight by your side, Tony. You knew that.” your voice shook as you spoke, getting up from your seat and heading back to your kitchen, you put some distance between the two of you.

“Then you should’ve fought me! Anything was better than leaving unannounced, Y/N.”

His words made you turn around, his eyes shone under the candlelight, burning with embers of unanswered questions. You stood quiet, your breathing shallow now.

“Clearly I didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Is that what you think? You’re wrong, Tony. It’s because you meant the most to me, Tony. I couldn’t say goodbye to you because if I had, I wouldn’t have survived. And I couldn’t stay. So forgive me for running away, alright? I took the easiest choice at hand because the alternative was just too damn difficult.” you had a few tears strayed down your cheek by the time you finished, your heart now pounding wildly against your ears as you stood gripping the dining chair so tight your knuckles had turned white.

Tony sat still for a while, his brain comprehending your words before a hint of a smile made its way on his face, a sense of temporary relief - something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Something inside of him had led him here, the longing to see your face, questions that needed answers, the loneliness he felt that only grew more and more once everything that could go wrong went wrong. And yet, as he sat here after finding you, his heart felt lighter. Like he had made the right choice in what felt like forever.

“You haven’t asked why I am here.” he murmured, turning his attention back to the cup of tea in his hands.

“Wasn’t it to donate Dum-E to be my trusted lawn mower?” you jested, taking a seat on the chair you were previously clutching.

“I found out it wasn’t a car accident that killed my parents. They were murdered. By James Buchanan Barnes.” Tony stared ahead, gripping the cup tightly in his hands as he spoke.

“Oh my God, Tony…”

“And Rogers knew. He knew, Y/N.” he whispered, the anguish and hurt in his voice evident. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. The Avengers having a difference of opinion was one thing, but this piece of information was enough to cause a definitive crack, you knew that.

“It wasn’t Barnes, Tony. It was the Winter Soldier, he was being controlled.”

“They’re still dead.”

That made you understand he wasn’t looking for a logical explanation, at least not now. What he needed was comfort. Without another word, you made your way back over to the couch, placing your hand on Tony’s back to let him know you were there for him.

“I almost lost Rhodey. I saw him fall to his death from the sky, Y/N. I couldn’t make it to him in time. And now our team is scattered. Gone. All because I–”

“Because of the Accords, and a difference of opinion, Tony.” you shifted closer, placing the cup away to grab his hands in yours.

“But I signed them. I failed.” his words broke your heart, unshed tears now made their way into his eyes as he tried his best not to break down in front of you.

“Hey, it’s okay, Tony. We’ll figure it out, like we always do, right? It’s okay, come here.”

Wrapping him in a hug, you held him close to you as he broke down, finally allowing himself to be vulnerable. He held onto the light sweater you wore like you would disappear in his grasp, shoulders burdened heavy now shaking in silent tears as months, maybe years of pent up and unaddressed feelings resurfaced.

“Shh. You’re okay, Tony. Let it out, I’ve got you.” You carded your fingers through his hair softly, blinking your own tears away.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Tony. I should have been there for the team, for you. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head slightly, the movement a little difficult with his head safely tucked against your chest. After his tears subsided, you clasped his hand and led him upstairs to draw him a bath.

Tony Stark hadn’t known what it felt to have someone else care for him in a long time. He didn’t allow himself to be vulnerable the way he had now, because for the first time in forever, he knew felt safe. Safe enough to show his scars, his wounds. As you wordlessly undressed him, your eyes scanned the bruises littered across his skin, old scars and new. Your fingers traced them delicately before you nudged him to step inside the tub while you sat out. He needed this more than you at that moment.

The warm water healed his sore muscles, the ache that had settled deep within them slowly slipped out as your hands massaged the knots away. There was no way he could express how thankful he was for you in words. He chose to express it all with a kiss instead.

Right after you were done washing his hair, he held your hand to pull you closer to the edge of the tub, his gaze lowered as his face inched closer to yours.

As your lips met, you felt yourself melt against him. There was still a lot to work through but for now, you let yourself be lost in Tony Stark. All of him. You let him consume your senses. He was all that mattered.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Hmm?”

Your question seemed irrelevant, you probably guessed it had been a while since the man got a good night’s rest. Now that you were out in your backyard, lying on a soft blanket you’d brought out to watch the night sky. Tony held on to your hand, placing it right over his chest where his arc reactor once was.

Several stars twinkled in the inky black sky, a visual you had missed in the city life. You remembered the nights you laid out here alone, rethinking past choices. You were content then, but you only understood peace now. There was no one else you would rather be here with than Tony.

His heart was beating steadily against your hand, his breath calm, features relaxed. This was the Tony you knew and loved.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I found my way back to you.”

[wet-denim]

meet cute || ray stantz/gn! reader

pairing: ray stantz / gn reader

word count: 1447 ish

summary: your typical awkward first meeting with the world’s softest ghostbuster.

warnings: n/a :)

a/n: the plan is to make this short on purpose as a warm up to longer fics after a long absence. we’ll see how that goes rip. also proofreading??? in this economy???

--------

You always knew when Dr. Stantz was working on the Ecto: you could hear his stereo blasting from blocks away, carrying the dulcet tones of muffled rock and roll through the chilly New York air. Since you’d been hired, you and Janine had decided to split the secretarial responsibilities on the days you were both scheduled: today, she was in charge of the technical things, and you were running errands: picking up the flight suits from the dry cleaners here, stopping for parts there, and eventually winding up at the only coffee house in all of New York that everyone could agree on before heading back to the firehouse. You looked a bit of a mess, but that was just par for the course at this point. You don’t work for people called “Ghostbusters” without expecting it to be a weird job – which it absolutely is.

Still, it isn’t the worst job you’ve had. In fact, it might be one of the better ones, despite the unconventional work conditions. Your bosses are, for all intents and purposes, relatively decent people:

Dr. Spengler doesn’t say much to you aside from giving you tasks, but he stood up for you without question when that one guy got mad at you for the state the boys left his house in.

Dr. Venkman drips with sarcasm, even when all he’s doing is asking if there were any calls when he was gone, but he buys you lunch when things are too busy for you to stop and eat. He got you a turkey sandwich when you’d asked for chicken, but it was a nice gesture, and the sandwich wasn’t bad.

Winston stopped and took over the phones the few times you’ve been overwhelmed, sending you to a back area of the firehouse to take a breather before jumping back into it. Of the boys, he seemed most in tune with you and Janine, helping with the customer service side of things when he had a chance.

Dr. Stantz spent a lot of time in the lab or working on Ecto-1. You hadn’t really gotten to know him yet, but he always gave you a big smile when he saw you, and the genuineness of it made your heart skip a beat and a blush to bloom across your cheeks. You weren’t even sure if he knew your name.

The music gets louder as you get closer to the building, balancing the tray of coffee precariously on top of the pile of books Dr. Spengler ordered from the library (considering his already expansive library and Dr. Stantz’s bookstore, you didn’t think there were books left for him to borrow, but the sizable stack in your arms deemed otherwise.) There was no way you were going to get the door open by yourself, so you knock. Of course, there’s no answer, just the sound of the stereo, clanging of tools, and chipper sound of Dr. Stantz singing along to the music. Shit.

“Dr. Stantz?” you call, to no avail, “Dr. Stantz? Can you get the door, please?”

Again, nothing. He’s in his own world, and it would be easier to wrangle your own ghost than to try to get his attention. Sighing, you try to grab the inner door handle from under the stack of books, the weight of them starting to sink in. You can’t get a good grip on it, so it just jiggles pathetically.

“Dr. Stantz!” you call again, louder. Infuriatingly, nothing. Still. The books are slipping from the top of the stack, the coffee going with them.

“RAY!” you yell, trying to open the door again, leaning on it to maybe stabilize the tower of books as your hand once again fumbles for the handle. Over the sound of the music, you can't hear him approach the door, and the doorknob jiggling from the other side doesn’t register until the door opens and you’re falling forward, directly onto the unsuspecting Dr. Stantz. The coffee and books go flying and the dry cleaning slips from your hand. You fully expect to hit the floor next, but instead find yourself in the strong grip of Ray’s arms.

Well. That’s embarrassing.

As he sets you on your feet, the apologies begin, piled on top of one another like the books at your feet.

“I am so sor–”

He cuts you off.

“No, I’m sorry, I should’ve–”

You cut him off.

“No, I should’ve been–”

“Well, my music shouldn’t be that loud –”

“I should have gotten a cab –"

“It’s okay."

“Its fine, I promise.”

You’re both blushy and awkward (and more than a little embarrassed) before the silence just becomes too much for him to bear.

“We haven’t really talked since your interview,” he wipes his hands on a rag and offers it with a boyish smile, “I’m Ray.”

Offering your own smile, you give your name and shake his hand – its large, calloused, and nearly completely envelopes yours. He’s already introduced himself when you were first hired, but maybe he doesn’t remember. Smart people tend to forget small things.

For a moment, you two awkwardly stand there before you both suddenly come to your senses and bend down to grab the fallen books.

“These for Egon?” he asks, reading the title of a particularly heavy textbook.

“Yeah,” you begin stacking them, “did any of them get coffee spilled on them?”

“No, don’t think so,” he inspects the next few books carefully before putting them on your stack, and you breathe a sigh of relief. The coffee can be replaced and the clothes rewashed, but the books would have cost more than your rent to replace.

You both reach for the last book, hands grazing each other, and you both freeze for a moment. You both chuckle awkwardly as he picks it up from a different angle and hands it to you.

“No harm done!” he proclaims.

“Yeah, shame about the coffee, though,” you mutter, shuffling the stack of books into your arms.

“How ‘bout I take those?” he offers. You want to object, but he has a sweet, expectant look in his eyes, and you can’t say no.

“Just don’t dock my pay or anything,” you try to joke as he scoops up the stack with ease.

“Oh, I don’t do payroll. That’s all Pete.”

“I know, I was joking.”

“Oh.”

There’s another awkward silence as you both head upstairs to the lab, only broken by you helping Ray navigate around the stack of books to Egon’s desk, where he sets them down with a THUD!

“Thank you, Dr. Stantz,” you offer a polite, professional smile, “Truth be told, I probably would’ve killed myself trying to get up those steps.”

“Its no problem. I needed to take a break, anyway.”

In all the weeks you’d been here, you’ve never seen this man take a break.

“Right,” you say, “well, again, thanks. Anyway, I should probably head back to the coffee house and pick up more coffee. Everyone’s been really nice since I started, but I don’t want to know what Dr. Spengler is like without caffeine.”

Ray chuckles a little at that, “Yeah, you really don’t.”

You exchange smiles and he walks you back down the ground floor, making light conversation as you reach the door. In the short distance between the lab and the front door, you’d already learned all about what he’s doing with the Ecto today (something about a killswitch) and how he and Winston did all the work on her and how he thinks there’s actually a ghost living in the glove compartment. You mostly listened, observing how his eyes light up when talking about ghosts and machinery.

When you reach the door, he’s still talking, only stopping when his foot nudges one of the unfortunate paper coffee cups from the previous run. He clears his throat, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

“I’ll keep the music quiet this time. Just in case.”

“Thank you, Dr. Stantz.”

“You can call me Ray, if you’d like.”

“Okay, then. Thank you, Ray.”

For a moment, its quiet, but not as awkward this time. Just holding the space.

Funny. You just noticed his eyes are two different colors: one brown, one green.

“Guess I’ll be back soon.”

“Guess so.”

And with that, as much as you want to skip getting the coffee and just stick around him and listen to more about the science of parapsychology, you have a job to do, so you head back onto the street and hail a cab.

Definitely isn’t the worst job you’ve ever had. Actually, you muse as you turn and catch him watching you get into the cab before closing the door, it might end up being one of the best.

[wet-denim]

touching din | din djarin

Summary: The three times that Din bends his own rules and engages in physical touch. 

his primary love languages are acts of service and physical touch. i will die on this hill. i started this one just to indulge in the thoughts of touching his lovely face. it’s been in the works for a while and although i know it’s far from perfect, i’m glad that it finally gets to see the light of day! warnings: bad language, potential incoherence? idk i’m very tired but i hope you like it tags: plenty of fluff, plenty of indulgent, sfw touching, and then a good handful of angst. rollercoaster central. this takes place over a period of time, so part of it comes after finding out grogu’s name, which is why he’s referred to as many things! word count: 4650 written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

The travelling between planets would’ve been excruciating if not for your life partner and your adoptive child. The three of you made rather an unorthodox family. A runaway from Corellia, a Mandalorian and a… a sweet ball of green. An unorthodox family, indeed, but loving.

The Child chirped and bubbled away on your lap, apparently having a conversation with you while you sat in the pilot seat. You listened attentively, made agreeing noises at all the right moments, the lights of hyperspace travel filling the cabin with slow flashes. He really was so cute. You’d tell him it often, and you’d tell him that Din thought so too, even if he’d never say it. That much was obvious.

It was in the way he carried him, the way he protected him. The occasional pat to his head, or the quiet rub to his long ears as he slept. He wasn’t the type to openly say it, but it was clear, and that was what counted.

The Child reached out to the knob atop the gearstick, fingers wiggling.

“Baby, no. We have to always ask Din about the ship, hm?” You bounced him gently on your knee in an effort to ease the sad coos- but there was no need. A gloved hand reached around you, exposed fingertips closing on the ball. It was unscrewed and placed into the waiting green hands, content whirs and chatters soon filling the air.

The warmth in your chest grew into a smile as you dropped your head back, peering up at the helmeted man that stood just out of sight. “That’s a yes, then?”

A nod. “That’s a yes.”

Keep reading

[wet-denim]

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡☆♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Felix Fickelgruber x fem!Reader HCS

!Warning(s)! Smut

(Also i wrote this instead of sleeping so im sorry if its crap)

♡~Romantic hcs~♡

- He is going to buy you expensive gifts whether you like it or not (man's is just extra)

- Every week he takes you to dinner with him at very fancy restaurants, so you can just chat, and have a moment to yourselves.

- He LOVES to spoil you, i mean the man has a lot of money to spend and a person that he loves so dearly that means he would buy the moon if you asked him to.

- With that in mind he just loves when you show him everything you bought ESPECIALLY clothes, he loves to see you trying it on for him and giving his on private fashion show.

- he is not a person very prone to cuddles but he finds it rather nice, so most of the time he just sleeps in his side of the bed and you would have to be the one to actually initiate contact.

- he definitely taught you how to dance at some point (totally not based out of that part in sweet tooth where dances with the policeman)

- He loves when you cook him homemade meals, makes him all fuzzy and warm inside, and even more if they are homemade sweets (for his massive sweet tooth)

- he gets so flustered when you call him a pet name in public, even more if its in front of the other members of the chocolate cartel, it's honestly adorable.

- Sometimes when he goes past some store and he sees a necklace, jewelry or even clothing that he finds strikingly beautiful, he just cant help it but buy it for you, and most of the time is something extremely expensive (I mean, he does have a refined taste but he probably also has a bit of a shopping problem...just a bit.)

♡~Smut hcs~♡

- Acts like he would be a top but in reality is a bratty sub

- I mean he can top if you ask him nicely (or push the right buttons...) but most of the time he just loves when you do all the work to make him scream with pleasure.

- But that doesnt mean he doesnt do anything in return, he would love to do anything you ask him to, but his favorite way of rewarding you is to eat you out like he's been starving for days on end (he just goes crazy when you ride his face)

- Loves to be tied with whatever you choose (Handcuffs, Rope, His own tie, doesnt matter)

- Loves to buy you expensive lingerie, he just goes wild when he knows you're wearing them

- one day after you two had sex in his office you ended up having to leave in a hurry and left your panties behind somewhere in his office and then just completly forgot about it, after that Felix developed an habit of always having at least one of your panties hidden in a drawer close by, so he can jerk off whenever he wants with the tought of you in mind.

- I just know this man whimpers during sex, i just can see it perfectly.

- If you tease him in public he just becomes a stuttering mess and can't even think straight, or form a coherent train of tought, he says he hates it (but secretly he doesnt)

- i feel like he would not be a big fan of hickeys or bite marks, due to the fact that it would be too noticiable and we all know how much he cares for his appearence so it deppends on where you would mark, but he's not totally against it as long as he can easily cover it up.

- he has an obsession with your legs, and he is easily turned on by it, loves to kiss them until he reaches your inner thighs.

[wet-denim]

Your thomas thorne stuff is great. Do you have any more lined up?

Anyone fancy a bit of angst?

Warnings: Thomas' death, mention of gunshots, slight divergence of canon

You're not accustomed to being awake before the sun has risen. You're not naturally inclined to early mornings, much more content to wake up long after the sun has risen, so it's with a level of discomfort that you realise how early it is that you've woken up. It's still dark outside from what you can tell and you tempted to turn over and fall back asleep. It's only when your eye catches sight of a letter slipped under your bedroom door that you decide to get up to see what it is.

You recognise the handwriting as being Thomas' and it brings a smile to your face almost instantly. Thinking it to be a new poem you eagerly turn the letter over in your hand, breaking the wax seal and releasing it from its envelope. The first thought you have is that it must be a very short poem as it only has two lines.

I love you dearly.

Should something happen to me, I'm terribly sorry.

You go still as you process the words. You feel your stomach drop as anxiety builds in your chest. It's all you can do to get dressed as quickly as possible, heading out of your room and downstairs as soon as you're decent.

The next sign that something is very wrong is when you spot Isabelle walking into one of the drawing rooms. She's never been seen awake before sunrise either and you're quick to follow her into the room.

"Where's Thomas?" Any pleasantries she was about to say die on Isabelle's tongue as she takes in your disheveled state. It's early, too early for you to be awake, and she had hoped to avoid you completely for the next few hours.

"I- I'm not sure." You know she's lying to you. Can feel something in your chest telling you that your friend is concealing the truth from you.

"Isabelle, please." You watch your friend closely, waiting for her to speak again.

The sound of a gunshot rings through the air, startling you and Isabelle. You're no fool, you see the way your friend's eyes dart towards the window in the aftermath of the shot. You waste no time hurrying to the window, your eyes scanning for any signs of your missing betrothed.

Your heart stops when you see him, leaning against the base of a tree looking paler than could ever be considered healthy. The next few moments dissappear in a blur as you move without thinking, running out the front door.

"Thomas!" Despite it all, his face lights up when he sees you running towards him. He tries to lift himself to his feet, but his face crumbles into a grimace as pain shoots through him at the movement, and he manoeuvres himself back to resting against the tree.

"My love, you shouldn’t be out on a day like this, you might catch a chill." You're about to make a comment about how he's more likely to catch a chill in just a shirt and waistcoat when you look down and something crimson catches your eye. It's with growing horror that you spot the bloodstain blossoming over his waistcoat.

"What happened?"

"My cousin thought it appropriate to besmirch your reputation in my presence. He had to be held accountable."

"Thomas."

"My cousin is better than me in almost every way, I accepted that a long time ago. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you to him though."

"I belong to you, don't you realise that? My heart is bleeding in your hands, Thomas." You take his hand in yours, pressing it to your chest. You feel like your heart is fluttering like a hummingbird, and part of you prays that he can't tell how much you're panicking as blood continues to stain his clothes.

"I believe it is actually my heart bleeding right now." He winces slightly as another wave of pain passes over him, his grip on your hand tightening.

It's with growing agony that you see his focus on you start to slip away as his breathing speeds up. His breaths are erratic and inconsistent, and a horrible part of you knows that the man you love is going to die in front of you.

You make sure to keep squeezing his hand, muttering sweet nothings and gentle words under your breath to him until his breathing starts to quieten. You'll be damned if you don't make sure he knows just how much you love him in these final moments of his life.

The first tears start to fall when he finally goes quiet, and then all at once, it's like the dam breaks. The shock gives way to anguish as the morning's events finally settle into your mind.

The dawn begins to break over the two of you as you cradle him into your chest, the only sounds your broken sobs and the quiet birdsong in the distance.

[wet-denim]

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.

[wet-denim]

PAIRING Thomas Thorne x fem!ghost!reader

A/N I’ve been obsessed with bbc ghosts recently and basically fell in love with Thomas so I just had to write something for him. This is not proof read and most likely has shitty grammar as I literally wrote this in my maths class 😭

WARNINGS kissing?? Peer pressure ig

Thomas didn’t understand why it was so difficult to get Alison under the mistletoe. Each time he had tried today, he had failed miserably and it’s making him so frustrated. Thomas currently had his face shoved into the Captain’s thigh, his body in an uncomfortable position as the two were playing twister, a game Alison got Pat for Christmas.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alison standing at the door frame, right under the mistletoe. Thomas tried to call out to, desperately, but it was muffled due to his position. Thomas rolled his eyes, giving up a kiss with Alison was absolutely and positively not worth it for this terrible game, so he quickly got out of the position and walked (basically ran) towards the door, but alas, Alison was already walking away.

A loud gasp suddenly echoed through the room, and Thomas looked towards Kitty. “You two are under the mistletoe.” She said. Thomas furrowed his eyebrows, but turned his head to see you trying to walk away from under the door, but Kitty called out again. “Stop! You have to kiss now, Y/N!”

“Kitty…” Y/N said, “we don’t have to kiss. It’s just silly tradition.”

Thomas laugh, although it sounded quite un-genuine to the people in the library. “Such a silly tradition.” He says. Little do they know, Thomas, despite being a massive poet and always admitting his love to those women around him, quite liked Y/N. Every since you passed away 55 years ago and came into his life, he has never been happier. You two hang out all the time, and he loves how you always listen to his poems. The problem is that when he realised he had these feelings for you, you guys became too close. He felt that if he revealed these feelings, and you rejected him, you would no longer want to be friends.

What he didn’t know is that you harbour the same feelings for him, you been infatuated with him for years. When Alison came to the house, and he started telling her all his poems, and hanging out with her more often, you couldn’t help but to feel jealous. You can’t lie and say it hasn’t been tense around you two, because everyone can feel it.

“It’s not silly tradition it sweet!” Kitty complained.

“I used to always hang mistletoe around the house for me and Carol. It was great, really nice tradition.” Pat told the group.

You rolled your eyes, “fine. If it’s so important to you lot.” You leaned up and Thomas held his breath, his eyes widened, only to feel your lips fall on his cheek before you pulled back. “There.”

“No! It has to be a proper kiss silly!” Kitty giggles, “on the lips.”

Despite not having any blood in his body, Thomas swore his whole face went pink. The idea of your lips on his was enough to make his tummy do somersaults (even you just kissing his cheek made his body feel all fuzzy inside).

“Kitty, it’s not like me and Thomas not kissing is going to ruin Christmas or anything.” You tell her.

“Actually, it suppose bad luck if you don’t kiss under mistletoe.” Mary mentions, causing the rest of the group to send you smirks.

You take a deep breath, the others watch in anticipation on what your going to do. You groan before looking back at the group. “Does it really matter if we kiss or don’t kiss.”

“Yes!” Kitty says gleefully. Thomas frowned. The thought of kissing you sounds delightful but it seems as though you don’t share the same thoughts as him. Only you do. You would love to kiss Thomas, you would just prefer to kiss him without the peer pressure of your friends.

“Look, Thomas doesn’t even want to kiss me and it would be very rude to kiss someone without their permission.” You tell the group and try to leave again. Thomas looked at you on bewilderment, he can’t believe you think he doesn’t want to kiss you.

“I believe Thorne does, Y/N.” The Captain tells you. You glare at him, wondering why he decides now is the best place to join in on the group’s antics.

You turn your head to look at Thomas, “I really don’t mind.” He mutters. “Besides if it makes them stop pestering us.” Thomas says.

“Y’know what? Fine. If it means so much to you people.” You turn your whole body towards Thomas and grab his shirt before pulling him towards you. Your lips fall on his and the poet swore he has never felt anything better.

Thomas lets out a soft hum against your lips, he brings one of his hands your cheek to deepen the kiss. He opens his mouth slightly, brushing his tongue along your bottom lip to gently request access to your mouth. You part your lips ever so slightly before they are quickly pried open further by Thomas’ tongue.

You suddenly remember that the ghosts are watching and quickly pull away. Thomas tries to chase you lips but you step back before he can.

“There. Was that a proper enough kiss for you?” You say. The four ghosts watching don’t answer, so you walk back out of the library, Thomas fixes his waistcoat and looks at the others; his face feeling hot.

“Oh my god.” Kitty ends up saying, breaking the silence.

[wet-denim]

Please can I request a platonic Captain x reader please? Maybe where the reader is a pirate ghost from the late 19th century and she is the only other ghost that the Captain shows physical affection to, causing them to get teased by the other ghosts and Alison? Thank you! x

Of course you can! I love the Captain and I hope you like the fic!

Title: An Understanding

Ghosts tag list: @violetlucreziasstuff

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @imjustassaneasyou, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian

“Footwork,” you called to Alison, “Remember your footwork.”

“Like this?”

You narrowed your eyes at Alison’s feet before nodding.

“Now tell Mike he needs to raise his arm slightly higher.”

“How much higher.”

You cocked your head and came to stand on Mike’s right. He looked around and you raised your arm slightly.

“To here.”

“Mike, you need to raise your arm about two inches.”

“And that’s perfect!”

“Y/n said ‘that’s perfect.”

“Great,” said Mike through gritted teeth, “I’m so glad. Why did I agree to do this again?”

“Because we have someone who can teach us how to fence-“

“Swordfight,” you corrected Alison, which earned you a glare, “Just because you’re not killing each other doesn’t mean you’re not sword fighting.”

“What did she say?” asked Mike

“She said we’re sword fighting.”

Mike paused for a moment before looking down at your old swords. He looked back up at Alison and nodded.

“Sword fighting does sound a lot cooler.”

“I’m guessing that’s a good thing.” You said to Alison.

“It is. Y/n says ‘thank you for the compliment.” Alison said

You sat down on a chair as you watched Alison and Mike almost dance around the room. It was nice to see them having fun. Back when you were alive you used your sword to stay alive, killing people was an unfortunate aspect of your old life. Seeing Alison and Mike made you realise just how far society had changed since you were alive.

“Ah, y/n, there you are.  I was wondering where you were.”

You looked up as the Captain approached you, a soft smile on your face at the appearance of your friend. The Captain stood next to you, observing Alison and Mike.

“Teaching them the art of sword fighting I see.”

“Yes,” you replied, “They’re coming on surprisingly quickly, especially since Alison is the only one who can see us.”

“It is a noble art that sadly people no longer seem to appreciate”

“Yeah.”

The Captain put a hand on your shoulder and gave it a re-assuring squeeze. You closed your eyes at the small comforting action and rested your head against his arm.

“And what do we have here?”

You jumped away as Julian’s smug voice instantly put you in a bad mood. You glared at the dead politician as he sauntered over to you, smirking. He paused to watch Alison and Mike.

“Look at you two getting cosy.” He said

“What do you want?” you asked

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, “Just glad to see you two so close.”

You rolled your eyes as the Captain coughed awkwardly. You could sense that he was about to remove his hand so you put your on top of his.

“The Cap and I enjoy a purely platonic relationship,” you said, “If you are too small minded to know what that words means, might I suggest reading a dictionary.”

“Well said, y/n.” said the Captain

You smiled up at your friend as you stood up. You linked arms with him as the two of you walked away from Julian. Alison watched the two of you as you passed by.

“Eyes on Mike,” you called, “In a real fight that would get you killed and I don’t think you want to be joining us any time soon.”

“If I did would I be able to join you and the Captain on your walks?” Alison said with an amused smile

“What’s that?” asked Mike as you and the Captain walked through a wall

“Just y/n and the Captain,” said Alison, “Going on one of their little walks.  Honestly, it’s kind of sweet how close they are to each other. I think it’s because they’re the only ones who really understand each other.”

[wet-denim]

Hide Away (Thomas Thorne x reader)

Whumptober Day 25: Hide and Seek

Summary: After receiving a very nasty shock you hide away in order to recover in the arms of your closest friend.

Pairing: Thomas Thorne x reader

Warnings: mention of past murder

BBC Ghosts tag list: @violetlucrezia

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @imjustassaneasyou

You pulled your legs up against your chest as you rested your chin against your knees. You closed your eyes as you let the peace wash over you. It was a rare, quiet moment in Button House and you were thankful for it. This time of year was always hard for you and you were grateful for your own company.

Well, besides from the company of one other person.

You were vaguely aware of someone entering the room and you automatically leant against them. An arm was wrapped around your shoulders and you sighed as you rested your head against his chest. Thomas squeezed your shoulder in comfort as you shut your eyes again.

Keep reading

[wet-denim]

A Friend In Need (Thomas Thorne x reader)

Day 8 alt. prompt: Comfort

Summary: Sometimes all you need is a comforting friend.

Pairing: Thomas Thorne x reader

Warnings: unrequited love

BBC Ghosts tag list: @violetlucrezia

Eveything tag list: @greenrevolutionary​, @imjustassaneasyou​

“Come on Thomas,” you said, “You can’t spend all day in there.”

“I can and I shall!”

“Why?”

“I have been most gravely offended!”

“How?”

“Alison.”

Keep reading

[wet-denim]

Realisation (Thomas Thorne x reader)

Is this a completely self indulgent fic from Ghosts?

Yeah, but I don’t really care to be honest! It’s good to be self indulgent every once in a while right?

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary

While disagreements between the ghosts were relatively common it was rare for there to be a full blown argument. Alison sensed that something was off as soon as she entered the main room. Pat was pacing around looking nervous and nobody had noticed her arriving.

“What are we going to do?” he asked eventually, “We can’t just leave them like this.”

“Leave who like what?” asked Alison

Keep reading

[wet-denim]

Heya ! I read all your Thomas related writings and I must say that I love them, it's so much fun to read ! Could I request a fic or drabble where the ghost!reader who came from a similar era as Thomas, disappeared 3 years before Allison's arrival and everyone thought that she had moved on but in reality she was just asleep somewhere and they just forgot to check that specific place so reader just comes back without realising that years went by and Thomas is just in SHOCK 😂 thank you !!

This was a fun idea! I hope you enjoy what I wrote, anon!

Warnings: One s*xual comment (made by Julian). Both Thomas and the reader being dramatic and sappy.

As your eyes fluttered open and you looked around at your surroundings, you realised you'd fallen asleep in the attic. Again. You really needed to stop wandering up there.

You had a bad habit of falling asleep in the strangest of places, which you believed was a lasting effect of your death. You had died in your sleep, and would often find yourself so tired that you'd take very long naps, sometimes for days on end if no one came to wake you. Though this time, you had seemed to have awoken on your own. That was good. You hated to be a bother.

Enthusiastic to get to go and see your fellow ghosts, you stood from your rather uncomfortable sleeping place on the floor with a yawn. You walked out through the wall and descended the stairs, taking a look around you as you strolled through the hallway. Everything looked… nicer. Far less dilapidated. No cobwebs littering the ceiling corners. No dripping water. You couldn’t imagine that Heather had been going around cleaning and repairing things, the poor woman was so old and frail that she could barely find the strength to leave her bed most days. Plus, her money had all but run out, so she hardly could have been hiring people to do it for her.

All of those thoughts seemed to leave your head when you saw a familiar head of dark brown curls walking around the corner, and with a smile and a wave, you greeted him.

“Good morning, Thomas, it’s lovely to see you,” you said politely, and watched the man stop dead in his tracks.

Thomas’ eyes went wider than you’d ever seen them as he stared at you unblinkingly. “H…heavens above…” he stammered, “This is… what on Earth?”

“Oh, Thomas, are you feeling alright?” you asked him, concerned. His eyes grew wider still when you placed a gentle hand on his arm, and he spent a few more moments simply staring at you, utterly flabbergasted, before abruptly turning away and bolting through a wall.

As you stood there alone, you felt your heart sink. What was wrong with Thomas this morning? He was usually so happy to see you, all sweet smiles and kind words. Had you done something to offend him? The two of you were getting alone perfectly fine the last time you spoke, and that was only yesterday. What could have changed?

Dejected, you turned and walked back towards where you had awoken in the attic.

*

“Everybody, please, be quiet for a moment, I beg of you!” Thomas exclaimed, nearly tripping over his own feet as he burst through the wall into the common room, where all of the other ghosts were sitting, seemingly listening to something that the Captain was saying.

“What is it, Thorne?” The Captain asked, sounding more than a little impatient. “I think you will find that we were all supposed to meet here at–”

“Y/N! She was there! I saw her! Oh, good God, I thought she was gone forever…” Thomas collapsed dramatically into the chair by the window, almost as if he had fainted, but he was wide awake.

“Y/N? Who’s Y/N?” inquired Alison, who Thomas had surprisingly not noticed was present in the room until she spoke up.

“Another ghost that lived here a while ago. Moved on a few years before you showed up,” Pat explained as he adjusted his glasses. “Didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to her.”

“Thomas in big love with her,” Robin added with an amused smirk. “He cry for days when she leave.”

“I did not cry for days, actually, I–”

“Was she wearing all of her clothes when you saw her?” Julian interjected, with a smirk of his own, though his was far more mischievous than Robin’s had been.

Thomas let out a loud, scandalised gasp. “Of course she was!”

Julian shrugged nonchalantly. “I thought you might have been having one of those dreams,” he said with a wink, as if his tone didn’t convey what kind of dream he was talking about. “I mean, everyone knows how much you wanted to f–”

Thankfully the Captain cut Julian off before he could finish his sentence, which would certainly have caused he and Thomas to begin fighting, and not for the first tiem. “Yes, thank you, Julian. Anyway, Y/N has been gone for years, so Thorne can’t have seen her.”

“I swear, she was right in front of me! She said good morning… and touched my arm…” Thomas was holding his hand over his heart, which surely would have been beating frantically if he were still alive. “I was shocked, of course, so I ran down here, and–Oh God, I left her so suddenly, I hope I haven’t upset her.”

Thomas looked back to his fellow ghosts, noticing that they were all still staring at him with either disbelief, sympathy, or a mix of both. He scoffed, offended. “Fine. If you all doubt me, I shall go and find her myself, and prove to you that I am not simply imagining things.”

He stormed out of the room through the wall, irritated that no one believed what he was saying. Why on Earth would he imagine you there, after you being gone for three years? In all honesty, he did his best to not think about you, it hurt him far too much. You had gone and moved on before he’d had the chance to tell you how he felt… if only he’d gathered his courage sooner…

But none of that mattered now, because you were back. Thomas had no idea how, but he was never going to question such a glorious miracle. Why would he? It didn’t matter how it happened, only that it had. Under the initial shock, he still felt the same warmth in his chest when he looked at you; something that should have been impossible owing to the fact that he was dead.

Thomas went back to where he had seen you earlier, though you were no longer there. That made sense he supposed, he had been gone for a while as he argued with everyone else about whether you existed at all. He wouldn’t expect you to just stand there in the hallway and wait around for him. 

So he traversed the hallways, searching for where you could have got to.

*

You were sitting on the floor in the attic in the same spot you had awoken, solemnly staring at the wall. Thomas had been so distressed when he saw you, and you had no idea why. He was so dear to you, more so than anyone you’d ever known, so the idea you could have done something to make him hate you hurt you deeply. 

Tears prickled in your eyes as you laid back down, hoping that you might fall asleep again, but for once you were completely wide awake. Of course, the one time you actually wanted to sleep for a few days, you were completely incapable.

You didn’t know how long you were laying there, wishing for rest, before you heard a shout from outside the door and sat up abruptly, startled.

“Damnation!” It was Thomas’ voice you could hear, you recognised it well. “How could God be so cruel, allowing me to see my love once more, only to tear her away from me again moments later?”

You gasped aloud, hand clutching at your chest. Thomas had just said that he loved you, hadn’t he? All sorts of emotions were coursing though you at such an admission. You had to see him, ask him if what he had said was true. Standing up, you walked over to the door, poking your head through to see what was going on outside. Thomas was sitting on the floor, his face buried in his hands.

“Thomas?” you said quietly as you stepped through the door, and he turned his head to look up at you, seeming just as shocked as he had earlier.

“Y/N!” Thomas scrambled to his feet, trying to make himself look more presentable. “You are back, I haven’t gone mad! Oh, I do not think I have been quite this happy in all of my days!”

“I am glad to see you too, Thomas,” you replied, confusion evident in your expression. “But I do not understand what you mean, you say that I am ‘back’, but back from where?”

“No one has seen you for three years, Y/N,” Thomas explained, shuffling his feet awkwardly, clearly wishing to get closer to you but at the same time not wishing to be improper. “One day, you were simply gone. No one could find you. So we all assumed that you must have moved on.”

“Three years?” you repeated in disbelief. “That… that cannot be true, Thomas. I remember speaking with you just yesterday, you told me that you had something important you must tell me when we could get a moment in private. I must admit I was slightly nervous about what you might say, so I came up here to think, and I must have fallen asleep… then I awoke this morning…” You paused, the realisation hitting you. “Surely I could not have been asleep for three whole years?”

“I believe that is the only explanation,” Thomas said, though a wide grin had come to his face. “But it matters not, because you have returned to me, Y/N, and I am overjoyed.”

You should have been thinking more about the terrifying idea that you’d slept through three years, but you found yourself quite distracted by Thomas’ lovely smile. If you’d been alive, you knew you’d be blushing from how he was looking at you.

“I know it has been so long, but I see that we are quite alone,” you said, looking around for a sign of anyone else lingering in the vicinity. “Perhaps you could tell me what you had wished to say that day? If you wish to, of course.”

“Ah, well, I had composed a poem in your honour…” Thomas said, his smile becoming more bashful as he fidgeted with his hands.

“A poem, for me? Oh, Thomas, that is so sweet of you. I would love to hear it.” You had always been more than happy to listen to Thomas’ poetry, even if everyone else hated it. He was always so passionate when he recited his work, and that was one of the things you loved most about him. 

“I am afraid that I no longer recall the words I had intended to say to you, but if you would allow me, I think I would be able to convey the meaning behind them in a different way.” Thomas was looking at you with such affection, though you could notice a great deal of anxiety behind his eyes as well.

Thomas stepped forward, so there was barely even an inch separating the two of you. Was this going where you thought it was going? You felt like you might faint. Thomas’ hand touched your cheek, tentatively and gently, and you shivered.

After taking a few moments – which felt like an eternity to you – to gather his courage, Thomas finally allowed his lips to meet yours, kissing you softly and sweetly. You found yourself surprised even if you had been quite sure that this was going to happen, and you brought your hands up to hold Thomas’ face, brushing your thumbs against his cheekbones.

The kiss didn’t last very long, though by the way Thomas was smiling at you once you pulled away, you were sure that it would the the first of many. You giggled softly, leaning your forehead to rest against his.

“So, did I, um… adequately convey my feelings for you?” Thomas asked, smiling so widely that he felt his cheeks were beginning to ache.

“Perhaps you should kiss me again, ensure that I fully understand,” you suggested, feeling rather emboldened by the most wonderful kiss you could have imagined, along with the knowledge that Thomas loved you too.

“Gladly, my dear.”

Immediately Thomas was kissing you again, a little more passionately this time, and you could have sworn you would be happy to stay there forever. But eventually Thomas pulled away, however reluctantly.

“We must go and tell everyone the good news,” Thomas said, sounding a little breathless, despite the fact that he didn’t need to breathe. “I am sure they will be glad to see you again, and I would like to prove to them that I haven’t gone mad.”

As the two of you descended the stairs, Thomas’ hand firmly in yours, a thought occurred to you. Maybe, someday soon, you would not have to worry about sleeping for too long, because you’d have someone beside you who would be eager for you to wake.

Requests for fics/drabbles, headcanons, and character preferences are currently OPEN!

[wet-denim]

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.

[wet-denim]

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)

[wet-denim]

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 :)

[wet-denim]

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.”