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downton-musings · 11 months

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Suitors (Thomas Barrow x Female Reader x Tom Branson) CH. 1

Pairings: Thomas Barrow x Female Reader x Tom Branson

Synopsis: One of the Crawley cousins comes for a visit, catching the eye of two household members

Warnings: Slight angst (expressed frustration/jealousy)

Author’s note: Thomas is portrayed as being heterosexual (straight) in this series. If that offends or upsets you, kindly keep scrolling.

This is a series, and will be posted in multiple chapters, also the reader is 19 years old*

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The car engine buzzed underneath your feet as it rolled on the gravel, stopping once it reached the abbey.

You habitually brushed your hands over your dress, disturbing the loosely sewn beads into soft waves.

A well built and tall butler appeared out of the large doorframe in an orderly manner, quick to work the door open with a flat smile.

You ducked out of the vehicle, sighing contently as the country air hit your nose. There is nothing quite as refreshing as the smell of a familiar place.

A footman with dark curls worked with haste, unlatching your bags from the trunk with a soft huff as he grasped both large cases in his hands.

Your eyes followed him as he started for the door, “Thank you.” He received your affections with a polite grin before disappearing behind the entrance.

Your attention moved to the butler behind the open car door, hands pulled back behind him. He appeared to be the superior, given the hold of his head up in a proper posture. You smiled warmly at him, “Thank you, Mr…”

“Barrow ma’am,” He completed your sentence with a flat smile, cheeks flushing softly under your gaze.

“Barrow.” You repeated with a smile, flicking over his masculine features. He was intriguing, too handsome for a butler. Unlike the ones you’re used to encountering.

He cleared his throat in nervousness, dissolving your thoughts with the shut of the car door, sending the driver off and down the path.

Holding your clutch in front of you, you granted yourself access to the home, stepping into the grand entrance with graceful steps.

He followed behind, pulling the door closed as you stepped into the foyer.

“Y/n,” a smooth feminine voice called out from the sitting room. “How lovely it is to see you.” A pair of turquoise eyes met yours, creasing with affection.

A warmth spread over your shoulders as she embraced you, placing a tender kiss on your cheek before pulling away to look at you.

“How were your travels? Comfortable I hope.”

“Very well.” You replied, shrugging off your coat which Mr. Barrow received, hanging it on a nearby coat rack. “Thank you.”

“That is a delight to hear,” her eyes glimmered with perfect happiness, “Shall I ring for tea?”

“That sounds lovely.”

With the guidance of her outstretched arm you followed her into the sitting room, met by a preoccupied Edith reading over one of her recent columns. She was always your favorite.

Her eyes raised from the paper upon your entrance, widening in excitement as she unhooked her crossed leg.

“Cousin!” She smiled, setting down her paper on the end table and standing. “What a lovely surprise!”

You matched her enthusiasm with a wide smile, stepping towards her to receive her embrace. Her touch was gentle and soft, one that matched her demeanor.

She pulled away after a few seconds, leaving her flowery perfume on your skin as she studied you with glistening eyes. “What on earth brings you here?”

“I thought I would come up for a visit.” You shrugged, “Our parting has been far too long.”

“Yes of course.” She understood with a nod, smiling ear to ear.

“Do sit down girls,” Cora insisted from behind you, prompting the both of you to make yourselves comfortable on the blue embroidered lounge. Cora invited herself to the armchair nearest to you.

The cushions beneath you squeaked as your weight shifted. “Where are the others?” You questioned with knitted brows, taking notice to the emptiness of the usually crowded home.

“Robert has gone for a walk, I imagine he will be back for supper.” Cora started, eyes wandering in thought, “Mary is out with Tom discussing estate matters.”

“Sounds exciting.” You noted in a sarcastic tone, pulling a chuckle from Edith. Analytics was never the most intriguing subject. You preferred to discuss things that mattered. Like Edith does. Like Sybil did.

A soft knock at the door interrupted your chatter.

“Come in.” Cora called.

A plump woman with brunette curls walked in, back to the door with a silver tray of tea cups and a pot in her hand.

“Thank you Mrs. Hughes.” Cora thanked as she sat the items down.

She brushed off her apron, rattling the keys hanging from her pocket. “You’re very welcome your ladyship.” Her cheeks flushed with a smile before exciting the room.

Cora extended a hand out, offering you to be first. You received the offer, reaching forward to serve yourself. The porcelain cup erupted with steam as you steadily poured the beverage into the cup. After sitting the pot down you sifted the tiny spoon through the sugar, spilling two helpings into the liquid and stirring.

“So y/n tell me.. have you any suitors at present?” Edith asked with a cocked brow, reaching for a glass as you raised yours to your lips.

The hot liquid nearly sprayed from your surprised breath. “Goodness Edith aren’t you curious.”

“I’m only asking because it has been ages since I’ve seen you last.” Edith retorted with a playful tone, crossing her leg and bringing her glass to her lap. “And I’ll admit I am quite curious.”

“If you must know,” you started with a breathy laugh, “I have no suitors at present.” You brought your glass to your lips taking in a small sip.

“None?” Cora spoke in surprise, stirring the metal spoon against her glass with raised brows.

You swallowed the drink, letting out a satisfied breath at its warmth. “I’m afraid so. No man seems to catch my eye these days.”

“We’ll see to changing that.” Edith smirked against her glass, receiving from you a warning glare.

Cora’s eyes flicked between the two of you. As she did an idea came to mind, pulling both ends of her mouth into a smile.

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The atmosphere of your bedroom was still except for the occasional popping of the lit up fireplace, casting an amber glow on the mint green walls.

A reflection of yourself stared back at you through the vanity mirror. You flicked over the image, taking in your appearance. Shiny hair in a pin wave updo, decorated with a gold chain that hung across your forehead. Two dangly earrings hung in a tear shape, framing your angular face. The dress was modest, except for the exposure of your shoulders. A white string of pearls hung around your neck, falling at the waist. The color was a cream white of innocence and purity, detailed with white flowers and charming beads. Glossy red lips curled into a smile as you admired your face, dusted with a tint of blush, giving you a flushed look.

“You’ve done a wonderful job.” You raised a finger to your cheek, observing yourself with wide eyes. “Just lovely.” You turned your head back, thanking the blonde lady’s maid smiling back at you.

“I had an easy canvas to work with your ladyship.” She complimented, reaching for a pair of black satin gloves on the bed.

The comment made your heart flutter. “Oh thank you.” You beamed, extending your hands out for her.

Gently, she pulled them over your hands, stopping at the elbows.

“There.” She noted, returning to her default posture with her hands clasped in front of her. “I think it’s best you head down now. Wouldn't want to be late for supper.”

“Right.” You agreed, standing from the cushioned chair and starting for the door.

The blonde was quick to twist the knob, swinging it open to reveal the vacant hall. She extended a hand out, giving you the lead to exit. The door closed behind you before she parted, pattering down the corridor.

With a confident attitude you started for the red velvet stairs, holding onto the railing as your hand slid with your steps.

The great room was even more beautiful at night, catching your breath as you took it in at the end of the stairs. Candlelight lit up every inch of the room, glistening off crystal vases and floral arrangements.

You got lost in admiration for a moment, before being pulled to the dining room by the steady chatter pouring down the hall.

With an anticipatory inhale you started for the open door, held open by the tall butler from earlier. For a fraction of a second he caught your eye, before your gaze was pulled elsewhere.

With a polite smile you entered the room, greeted with an occupied group. Mary was seated next to a young gentleman, both engrossed in conversation with Robert across from him. Cora was otherwise engaged with Cousin Violet’s commentary at the far end of the table. Edith perked up, patting an open seat next to her, which you received with an affectionate grin, inviting yourself to sit down.

You sighed contently as you made yourself comfortable, habitually smoothing out your dress with your hands.

“Champagne your ladyship?” A youthful masculine voice asked from behind you, causing you to turn your head back. He was a young man with daring blue eyes, complemented with a wave of styled blonde hair. His mouth held a hint of mischief as it curled into a grin, awaiting a response.

“Yes,” Your head perked up. “Thank you.”

His arm reached in front of you, pouring a generous amount of the gold liquid into your glass. Once full, he started making his rounds, circling the table.

As you reached for your glass Edith leaned into your ear, “You look charming tonight y/n.”

To your unawareness, Tom’s eyes broke from Robert and to the young woman across from him. He inhaled softly as he took you in, taken back by your beauty. His eyes painted over your features at careful speed, savoring the work of art you were.

You smiled against the rim of your glass as you took in a savory sip, swallowing the fizzy liquid. “You’ll make me blush! You’re just as lovely.”

You patted her gloved hand with yours, meeting her eyes with a smile.

“Y/n,” Cora started, from across from you, dissolving the current chatter. “I don’t believe you’ve met Tom, our late Sybil’s bo.”

Your eyes shifted to the man next to her, he was handsome. His facial structure was perfectly masculine, characterized by a muscular jaw and prominent brow. His blue green eyes were an enticing hue, glistening with specks of orange in the candlelight. The sight made your stomach flutter.

“Hello,” you acknowledged with a polite smile, hoping the flush spreading to your cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

He nodded back, fixating his eyes on yours before diverting his gaze back to Cora.

“Tom I take it your matters went well today?” She inquired, taking a glass to her lips.

“Indeed.” He perked up, straightening his shoulders. “Mary and I talked to some of the tenant farmers, and they are willing to work for our system.”

“That is wonderful news.” She cooed affectionately, smiling proudly at him and Mary.

A raspy throat clear diverted the attention to Violet. “Shall we save business matters for another time? Perhaps?” Her comment earned an exasperated sigh from Robert next to you.

Tom hid his face from her, appearing to act occupied by straightening his utensils. He looked up through his brows, tugging his lips into a smirk as they met yours. As your heart thumped under his gaze a contagious grin pulled at your mouth, finding it hard to hide your affections.

“We do have a guest, and I’m quite sure she would rather discuss herself.” Violet argued, defending her case.

Your head shook in surprise, diverting your attention to her raised brow. “Myself?”

“Why of course.” She explained in an obvious tone. “We want to hear all about you now don’t we?”

You laughed through your nose. “I’m not quite sure there is much to know.” You defended, taking a fair amount of the alcoholic beverage in your mouth.

“Certainly there is.” Mary interjected, leaning forward in intrigue. “Do tell us about life at home. It has been ages since we’ve seen you last.”

You swallowed the drink, wincing slightly as the fizz stung your throat. “Mama is well, she finds herself occupied in embroidery these days.” Your eyes wandered in thought, “Papa is all business. I don’t see him as much as I used to.”

Mary hummed.

“What is it that interests you my dear?” The dowager wondered, eyes curiously studying you.

You took in a breath, uncomfortable with being the attention of the party. “Writing,” Edith’s eyes lit up at your response. “Is an art that I find myself very content with.”

“How marvelous.” Cora complimented as the footmen came round with trays of food.

“Indeed.” Edith agreed heartily, taking a content sip of champagne.

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“What do ya think of the new visitor?” Jimmy inquired with a smirk, nudging into Thomas' elbow as supper wrapped up.

The butler swallowed a bite of his food, restraining his true feelings. “She seems kind.” He muttered back, keeping his tone at an appropriate volume.

“Kind? Who cares about kind?” Jimmy scoffed, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “I’d love to get my hands on her.” He murmured lowly in a lustful tone.

A jealous knot turned in Thomas’ stomach at his comment. He fisted another spoonful food, turning his knuckles white.

“You’re best off keeping that to yourself mate. There’s no chance of that happening.” He retorted in a cold tone, rendering Jimmy silent.

A startling throat clear echoed from the end of the table, gathering the attention of those seated. “Mr. Barrow, do you have something you wish to share with the rest of us?” Mr. Carson asked with a raised brow.

He swallowed thickly, diverting his gaze to his hands. “No-no sir.”

“Then I suggest you keep your words at civilized volume.” He scolded, making Thomas shrink into himself.

Mr. Carson took a heavy breath, sensing the tension. “That’s it then, supper is dismissed.”

The staff rose upon his announcement, making haste to clear the dining hall. Thomas and Jimmy were the last to go.

Jimmy stood first, before being caught by Thomas’ hand. He squeezed tightly, making him wince.

“I meant what I said. Stay out of it if you know what’s good for you.” Thomas whispered in a threatening tone, releasing him with a shove once satisfied.

Thomas’s eyes followed a disheveled Jimmy as he huffed out of the room. His jaw clenched in jealousy, recounting the earlier comment.

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To be continued!

If you're interested in Peaky Blinders content check out my other blog @jomarch-wannabe

#thomas barrow #tom branson #allen leech #robert james collier #downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #tom branson x reader #thomas barrow x reader #tom branson fan fic #thomas barrow fan fic #angst #period drama #1920s #bbc #british men

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angelswing236 · 6 months

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"Are you with me?"

Fictober 2023

Category: Fanfiction

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Hovering outside the nursery, Mary turned on hearing footsteps coming towards her. She put her finger to her lips as Tom got closer before peeking back through the small gap in the doorway.

Tom arrived behind her, peering over her shoulder.

‘What’s going on? Why all the secrecy?’ he whispered, seeing Sybbie standing in the middle of the room, jaw set, hands on her hips.

‘It’s not right!’ she cried, passionately.

‘There’s a rebellion going on in the nursery,’ Mary whispered over her shoulder. ‘And your daughter is right at the heart of it.’

‘A rebellion? What sort of rebellion?’ Tom asked, curiously.

‘She can’t do this to us!’ Sybbie continued, her cousins sitting in a row in front of her, gazing up at her with rapt faces.

‘From what I can gather, Sybbie’s rousing the troops against Nanny,’ Mary murmured, watching delightedly through the gap.

‘Why? What’s Nanny done?’

‘And we’re not going to let her get away with this, are we?’ Sybbie cried.

‘No!’ George hollered back making Marigold jump beside him.

‘Apparently, she’s laid down the law about the children eating all their vegetables,’ Mary explained.

‘Sybbie likes vegetables.’

‘Including sprouts,’ Mary said, darkly.

‘Oh,’ Tom winced, recalling his daughter’s visceral and vocal dislike of sprouts.

‘Exactly.’

‘It’s not fair! She can’t take our toys away!’ Sybbie barked.

‘She’s taken their toys away?’ Tom asked, frowning.

Mary nodded. ‘She’s holding their favourite toys hostage until they clear their plates.’

‘Oh, right,’ Tom said, grinning. ‘Ruthless.’

‘She’s certainly not taking any prisoners,’ Mary agreed. ‘But then neither is Sybbie.’

‘We’re not eating them! Are you with me?’ Sybbie thundered, clenched fist held aloft.

‘Yes!’ George yelled.

‘I don’t know who she reminds me of more – you or Sybil,’ Mary said, fondly.

‘Definitely Sybil,’ Tom said, proud as punch.

#fictober23 #downton abbey #tom branson #mary crawley #sybbie branson #george crawley #writing prompt #writing challenge #fanfiction

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juliasdowntonstuff · 5 months

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Chapter 15 is out now :)

"Well, things have changed, as I told you before. Mama wants to say goodbye, and I do not see anything wrong with that," Mary bit back across the table. She quite forcefully stuck her fork into the fish on her plate, making Tom, who was sitting next to her, flinch slightly.

The silence that followed was even more uncomfortable than before, the tension that filled the dining room could have easily been cut with even the bluntest butter knife.

Where everyone had been looking at Mary and Henry for the first part of this odd dinner conversation, they now stared at their respective plates in front of them. The topic of Cora's illness was still a sore one for all of them, especially so soon after Violet's passing, and the hostility between Mary and Henry was also not lost on any of the people sitting around the table, either.

#downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #my dearest darling #mary crawley #henry talbot #tom branson #edith crawley #cobert #cobert fanfic

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ehhhhwhatsthis · 6 months

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My brain is currently swimming in canon divergent events to redeem my beloved Tom Branson. Him running like a coward and leaving Sybil in danger in Ireland is his lowest moment in the show so far. However I also thing them running away in the middle of the night was also weirdly sketchy. I held them both as characters with integrity in my mind, and now, I don't think of it as one of their proudest moment either.

It would've been lovely to see Tom leave downtown to become a journalist, or even start writing as a part time to get some money. All this while, Sybil and Tom keep up their relationship in secret.

I adore the idea of the crawleys discussing some political articles in the newspaper, which have been written anonymously by Tom, all the while Sybil sits with them and is secretly proud of her significant other. Its a bit too far fetched, but maybe he becomes famous in the journalist world for his ideas on social commentary. He attends conferences and gains recognition for his work. A respected publisher who is a visitor at downtown maybe recognizes him and praises Tom in front of the entire family. (My dramatic ass loves dramatic reveals T_T)

#tomxsybil #tom branson #someone needs to write this #downton abbey #fanfiction #ao3

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bitletsanddrabbles · 6 months

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WIP Wednesday: Three men wait for a baby

I figure it's been a good long time since I posted a snip from the Thomas-as-Heir fic. This scene is probably going to need some very heavy going over, although hopefully not another complete rewrite.

Have some well-to-do men sitting around a library waiting for a baby to be born.

As predicted, Henry stood in the middle of the room, a glass of brandy in his hand. The man looked equal parts over the moon and utterly terrified. “There you are,” he greeted them as they entered. He looked at the drink in his hand. “I hope you don’t mind that I started without you.” “Not at all,” Tom chuckled, crossing the room to help himself. Thomas wondered if Carson had been notified, and if so if he was on site yet. “I assume you checked in on Mary before you came down?” “I did, yes,” the expectant father replied. “Then Edith came in and told me that outside of doctors, men had nothing to do with children being born, so out I went.” Thomas raised an eyebrow at that. “Nothing to with it, hm? Gracious, how do doctors manage to keep the population up and get their other work done?” It was only after he’d said it that he realized Tom was taking another drink. As he patted his sputtering brother-in-law on the back, he added a less low brow, “I’m fairly certain the father has something to do with the whole thing.”

#downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #fanfiction #thomas barrow #wip wednesday #tom branson #henry talbot #thomas-as-heir fic #laaaaaaaaa almost done with this scene #and i only kinda hate it #at least the part i'm at now #why do transitions suck?#oh well #thomas is funny

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wild-lavender-rose · 2 years

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Gift of Safety

Birthday Month Event

Pairing: Tom Branson x fem!reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Backstory: You are Tom’s closest friend from childhood, with an equal passion for the complex world of politics. But while Tom is able to escape much of the political backlash and scrutiny by retreating to Downton, you are not so lucky. When you’re attacked by a group of thugs for “sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong”, you seek help from the only person you can trust. The one you have silently loved your entire life.

Warnings: Description of injury, blood, fainting. Memory of being attacked.

Birthday Note: I am finally getting back into writing for Downton Abbey! I absolutely love this fandom and feel that Branson should get so much more attention than he does in the series. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

You had walked for hours, covering miles of road in shoes that were one stumble away from falling apart. The storm had been constant, pouring buckets upon buckets of water over you. You were drenched. Your thin, dirty dress and jacket clung to your trembling body. The bandage you had haphazardly wrapped about the cut in your arm was slipping off, allowing the blood to stain your sleeve and mingle freely with the rain. At first the cut above your eye had stung. But now you felt nothing, every last remnant of strength focused on moving forward. You could see your destination looming up before you in the distance. Downton Abbey.

You were barely conscious by the time you knocked on the gigantic door, fearful that the storm was so loud they would not hear you. Your body was trembling and numb as you waited. Your mind replayed the events of before, when you had been walking in the village headed home. It was then that the men pulled you into an alleyway, hissing a list of offenses in your ear.

Attending a political rally.

Wearing pants in public.

Cavorting with the good-for-nothing Tom Branson.

You had tried to scream when they began to beat you, but one kept his greasy hand clamped tight over your mouth. They had kicked and slapped you, tearing at your dress. You don’t remember why they stopped, but thanked God that they did. The next thing you were conscious of was picking yourself off the cobblestones and walking for help. And help had taken the form of Tom in your mind.

The front door opened and your thoughts broke. Mr. Carson’s large, imposing figure appeared before you. “Good heavens, child, what’s happened to you?”

“Tom,” you whispered, your teeth chattering. “I n-need to see Tom.”

You brushed past him, your fear and pain overriding your sense of formality. You had to see Tom. You had to tell him what happened. What if the men came after him as well? What about little Sybie? The thought caused your heart to stutter.

“Tom!” You slowed to a halt in the massive entryway, looking frantically at the many directions you could go. “Tom where are you?!”

“They’re all in the sitting room about to go into supper,” Mr. Carson came up behind you. “Wait here, you’re soaking wet-,”

“Sitting room.” You wheeled around and started in the correct direction. Tom had showed you where it was once. He had shown you everything.

The two of you had been friends since childhood. When you decided to come with him to Yorkshire you had blamed it on the need to start a new life. But truly it was to stay close to him, the childhood friend you had fallen in love with. But then Sybil came along and his head turned. Tom loved her endlessly, even after she died. You had looked on in silence, loving him always, even when it seemed nothing would come of it.

You loved him now as you tore through the abbey, a love that made you as blind as the pain from your injuries. You turned left, nearly knocking over a vase on a table, and burst into the sitting room. “Tom!”

The family looked up at you, shocked.

“What on earth?” Cora stood up from where she had been sitting by the fire, a book she had been reading sliding to the floor.

You scanned the room until your gaze landed on Tom. He was staring at you, his expression a mix of confusion and worry.

“Tom, there’s a group of-,” your legs gave way and you stumbled forward, grabbing the back of a chair to stay upright.

Mr. Carson sounded behind you. “I’ve already asked Mrs. Hughes to call the doctor, my lord.”

“Very good,” Lord Grantham nodded, expression one of barely concealed horror.

“Oh my good lord,” Edith pressed a hand over her mouth.

“Darling, what happened?” Tom crossed to where you stood.

Darling. The term nearly caused you to collapse on the spot. “There was a group of men. They pulled me into an alley, said they were going to teach me not to stick my nose where it shouldn’t belong,” you shook your head, the action causing a wave of sick dizziness to sweep over you.

“Get her on the couch, Tom.” Cora began pulling pillows off the couch in question.

“Come with me, darling, you need to lie down.” Tom put an arm around you. “Come on.”

“No, I’ll get blood on it,”

“Well it’s too late for the carpet, why not the couch too?”

“Shut up, Mary.” Edith was helping Cora arrange the pillows.

“Tom, what if they come here,” you gripped the lapel of his suit as your legs gave a violent tremble. “What of Sybie?”

“Stop thinking of everyone else,” Tom’s accent sounded through your panicked, darkening haze, the accent of your homeland, the accent of your love. “Come with me.”

“Tom,” your knees buckled and you collapsed, sure to have fallen if Tom hadn’t caught you.

“Tom, over here.” Cora’s tone had taken on the authoritative edge it had back in the days of the war.

Your trembling body clung to him as he carried you to the couch, the feel of his shoulder solid and warm under your head. You were crying silent tears, tears that mixed with the rain and blood on your face.

“You’re safe, love. You’re safe.”

“Carson, tell the servants to prep a bed for her and bring things to tend her wounds. In this weather it may be ages before the doctor can get here.” Cora sank to her knees in her beautiful evening dress, a dress that never should have seen the likes of rain or blood.

You tensed as Tom laid you down, gripping him harder. “Stay with me.”

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Tom reached up to your hand fisting his suit jacket, gently pulling it away so that your fingers could intertwine. “You’re going to be just fine, darling.”

“Tom,” you winced as the pain within you burst into a fire of agony, thrusting you down into darkness.

“Rest, darling. Just rest.”

Unable to resist, you held his hand tighter and allowed your eyes to flutter shut, accepting the relief of being safe in Tom’s presence. And the sound of darling... You would ponder it later, when the pain wasn’t so intense and the darkness so inviting. All other sounds and sensations faded away. It was just you and Tom, his hand grounding you as the pain’s fire worsened. Your final thought before fainting was a realization, that never before had you felt so safe. And for the moment that was all that mattered.

Fanfic Masterlist

#downton abbey #downton abbey fandom #Downton Abbey Series #downton abbey fanfiction #tom branson #tom branson x you #tom branson x y/n #tom branson x reader #downton abbey hurt comfort #tom branson x you hurt comfort #tom branson x y/n hurt comfort #tom branson x reader hurt comfort

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free-for-all-fics · 1 year

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Some Downton/Tom Branson prompts and ideas. These are old but might as well share them anyway. I shared the first one with @welcome-to-writers-haven on anon way back before I made this blog. (Hiiiiii!! It’s me 🙂 it’s been ages) And found these other ones buried in my notes app. Pls tag me if any of these inspire you to write something! 💜

1. Sometimes I think about a Downton Abbey and Bridgerton crossover fic idea (that I don’t have the time nor talent to write) where you’re a paternal descendant from one of the 4 sons, like a great-granddaughter or something, so you still carry the Bridgerton surname. You’re much like Eloise, an independent and free spirit, unafraid to speak your mind or challenge societal norms. You meet and befriend the Crawleys, only to fall in love with Tom Branson. This of course creates gossip and there’s talk wherever you go, especially if/when you agree to marry him, but you don’t care. The Crawleys approve of you not only for the benefits they could reap from Tom’s union with a woman from the Bridgerton bloodline, considering your social standing and wealthy inheritance; but because you make Tom so happy and like himself again after losing Sybil. No, it doesn’t really make sense, but I just think it’d be neat.

2. Imagine being American and meeting Tom while he and Sybbie are living in Boston. He takes you on a few dates and Sybbie soon adores you like family. A year passes, and he asks you to come with him and Sybbie back to Downton to meet the rest of the family, whom are all eager to meet you. You come from a more humble background, so you’re overwhelmed by the grandeur and opulence of it at first, but Cora being American herself puts you a little at ease and everyone else helps make you feel welcome. You fall further in love with Tom during your stay. Maybe the Crawleys and/or staff try to subtlety scheme to encourage the romance by pushing you closer together in the hopes Tom will propose. They just want Tom to be happy and in love again after Sybil.

3. Imagine being the second wife of Tom Branson and stepmother to Sybbie. (Whether you’re a Crawley sister or not is up to you.) What would that be like? What if you got pregnant? Would Tom start having fears and nightmares about your pregnancy being fatal like Sybil’s? So basically “Being Tom Branson’s second wife and/or pregnant with his child years after what happened to Sybil would include?”

4. Imagine being best friends with Sybil since birth and growing up together, practically like sisters. After Sybil’s death, Tom asks you to help him look after Sybbie so that you’d be a constant in her life since you were so near and dear to Sybil. He knows neither you nor he can bear to lose what remains of Sybil’s memory. You’re both mourning and Tom struggles with his sense of belonging, feeling lost and confused without Sybil. You’re supportive and give each other a shoulder to cry and lean on, a comforting light in this dark time. You become a dear friend to him and as he grows to think of Downton as his home, he falls in love with you. Once time has numbed the pain for both of you and it doesn’t hurt anymore, you show each other what it means to be in love and happy again.

5. Imagine if you were a guest in the house, in a romantic relationship with Tom during the Downton fire in episode 1 of season 5. Tom gets worried about you, and that worry becomes fear when he can’t find you outside with the others. Would he rush back in the house to find you himself? (You’re maybe unconscious when he or the firemen find you, but you’d be fine)

6. Imagine being a writer/editor who works for Edith and meeting Tom at her wedding. Your friendship begins there, and grows into a romance. You’re not exactly high in status or class, but neither of you care about all that nonsense.

(Or just a fic where it’s like Sybil and Tom’s love story, but kind of reversed. Tom has moved up in status at this point in time, managing the estate and selling cars, and you’re considered “lower” than him. But neither of you care. Maybe reader makes something of herself despite what she was born into, like Gwen did.)

7. You’re the youngest Crawley daughter, 3 years younger than Sybil and yet so much alike you’re practically twins. You’re the only one in the family who wholeheartedly supports Tom and Sybil’s relationship from the beginning. After Sybil dies, you and Tom both feel like you’ve lost half of yourselves. You wake up early to run errands, go horseback riding or take long walks alone to cope. You’re often gone for many hours, deeming it too painful to stay in the house where your beloved sister died. Tom eventually joins you on your walks and takes you for long drives with no destination in mind. You become very good friends as you lean on each other for support during this difficult time. Sometimes you’ll just sit in silence while holding hands and that’s enough. Grief brought you closer, but as Sybbie grows up, you fall in love with Tom.

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment you fell; it’s like it started slowly then came rushing all at once. While your family is happy for you both, you struggle with your newfound romantic love for Tom. You feel a disgusting pit of guilt in your stomach every time you kiss. You think you’re betraying Sybil and stealing her husband. You’re afraid of your confusing feelings, too afraid to even tell Tom about your struggle. You and he correspond through letters for a year while he and Sybbie are in Boston. In one such letter, he proposes. He writes that he’ll ask again properly when next he and you meet, he just couldn’t wait. You go to Sybil’s grave to ask for her forgiveness similar to how Mary did at Matthew’s grave. You confide in someone (Mrs. Hughes? Edith? Cora?) about your conflicted feelings and realize that Sybil would want you and Tom to be happy since she loved you both very, very much. You’re in love with each other, and where’s the shame in that?

8. You’re the youngest Crawley daughter and became very close friends with Tom when he first came to Downton as the Chauffeur. When he married your older sister, Sybil, you were happy to be maid of honor at their wedding, even if it was a small affair. You often visited them in Ireland or corresponded through letters while back home in England. After Sybil’s death, you were beside yourself with grief along with the entire household. But you loved Sybbie with all your heart and would spend as much time as you could with her. She’s the last vestige of your late sister and you care for her deeply. You can’t count the number of times you’ve held her, fed her, played with her, or put her to bed with a lullaby or story. You’d stay with her while Nanny had to run down to the sewing room or grab baby paraphernalia.

Even if the nannies insisted you didn’t have to do something, you didn’t mind. Over the years, Sybbie grows up and is followed by more children such as George and Marigold. Your friendship with Tom becomes so much more and you slowly but surely fall in love. Many years after Sybil’s death, you and Tom marry. Tom and you both want children, but you go to Dr. Clarkson with concerns about potential pregnancy risks before you start trying. You’re worried if what happened to Sybil is more likely to happen to you since you’re sisters. As your pregnancy progresses, both you and Tom get nervous. But everything is fine, you and your baby make it through with no complications.

#Tom Branson x reader #Tom Branson imagine #Downton Abbey imagine #downton abbey fanfiction #random fic ideas #fic ideas #Downton bridgerton crossover

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kehlana-wolhamonao3 · 1 year

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Story: Ambulance Driver

A miracle: a fluffy, romantic, happy and hopefully sexy chapter of Ambulance Driver. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did!

#fanfic #downton abbey #mary crawley #matthew crawley #matthew x mary #mary x matthew #sybil crawley #tom branson #william mason #ww1 #fanfiction #fic

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importantgalaxyrunaway · 1 year

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Valentine’s Day (Tom Branson x y/n)

CONTENTS: smut (not to much I cut away) ⚠️ Fluff, kissing.

AUTHORS NOTE 📝: I worked really hard on this. It’s longer than most of the things I write. It was harder to make than the others and I put more effort into it so please like 👍

(Toms pov)

the servants hall is bustling with people chatting over breakfast. There was a significant increase in the amount of mail everyone got.

“why is there so much mail on a Tuesday?” mrs. Hughes questioned

“it’s saint Valentine’s Day” mr. Carson answered

“for you mr. Branson” said the kitchen maid daisy handing me a letter. I looked at the letter and saw the lovely writing of y/n. I decided that I would go into the hallway to read it. It read:

my love,

Happy Valentine’s Day. I think of you every moment of the day. Soon we will be able to be together in front of everyone. But I hope tonight you will come to my room at after dinner. I love you ever so

Sincerely, y/n

I blushed y/n wanted me to visit her tonight! On Valentine’s Day! I have been in a secret relationship for at least 2 years now. We were madly in love with each other. But we both knew we wanted to be more than just an affair. Her parents were trying to set her up with sir Richard Carlisle but she hated him. She was trying to find the right time to tell her parents about us. Anna saw me smiling at the letter in the hallway.

“got a sweetheart mr. Branson?” She joked.

“I suppose so” I chuckled smiling

(Y/n’s pov)

That day I was very excited for it was Valentine’s Day. Not because of the fancy dinners or gifts from suitors. And I did have many suitors who gave me extravagant gifts. But because I was going to see Tom tonight. I knew that so when I got ready for dinner I decided to put on one of my best and favorite dresses. So When tom came to your room he would see you after dinner he would see you like this.

This is the dress you choose. (I love it so much)

The dress perfectly hugged my waist and showed my breasts prominently. I even asked anna to do my hair in a special way.

(Your hair is like this with the clip in it like rose from titanic. This shows that y/n is more adventurous bc it was the norm to have your hair up back then)

Feeling confident in my look I went into the drawing room “ah y/n! You look nice.” Mama said as I sat down in the armchair

“Thank you” I replied smiling because today I did put in more of an effort.

“oh? Trying to attract more suitors are we” granny said chuckling. I decided to ignore her remark

“dinner is served malady” Carson said coming into the room. We all filed out of the drawing room to the dining room. Dinner went smoothly. Mrs. patmore had prepared a delicious dinner.

”but y/n there are plenty of young rich suitors out there and your not getting any younger” granny violet said

but grandmama I don’t want to marry for a title I want to marry for love. What’s so wrong with that?”

“well there’s nothing wrong with that unless your marring a servant” papa joked

the rest of the dinner went by smoothly. But I couldn’t really listen to them talk. All I could think about was Tom. The way he held me. The way he kissed me. And finally the dinner was over. I decided to go upstairs early and tell them that I wasn’t feeling well. That way i wouldn’t need Anna to undress me. And I went into my room.

(Toms pov)

it was late but I was wide awake. All I had been able to think about today was y/n. I looked to make sure no one was there and then made my way to her room by candlelight 🕯

I opened the door to see her sitting down on her bed in her dinner dress. She looked absolutely breathtaking. She looked like Aphrodite herself.I smiled at her and she smiled back “ hello love” I say

“Oh tom” she said rushing into my arms “I love you” and we shared a very passionate kiss

“ I want to tell them about us.”

“what” I say pulling away. A bit taken a back at first.

“they want me to marry soon. And I choose you”

I felt like I was going to cry of joy! “Love, I have been waiting for you to say that for 2 years.” I said “when should we tell them?”

“tomorrow I think. It will be quite a shock but we need to not back down”

(Y/n pov)

I kissed him fiercely and unlike before my kisses weren’t just full of love I want more. Tom could tell this and pushed me back “we’re not married yet. Y/n no matter how much I want to it we’re not married” he said also fighting the urge to kiss back. He wanted it just as much as her.

“we’re to be wed. And we’re in love isn’t that enough” I said looking at him

he didn’t respond and instead closed the gap in between us with his lips. He pushed me on the bed started sucking my neck. It felt so good that I let out a moan. He helped me take my dress off as I unbottoned his shirt. My dress took much longer to take off then his shirt. But when it was finally off he just starred at me with his mouth agape. I covered myself insucure.

“no love” he said reaching up to caress my cheek. “Your beautiful”

-skip cus yk what happened next 🍋🍋🍋-

when I wake up I am on my silk sheets in my bed naked next to Tom Branson. Luckily it was still night and he could get away. It was around 3 am so the staff wouldn’t be up yet.

“Tom” I said slightly shaking him

“what love?”

“you have to go” I said with a sad look on my face “I wish you could stay”

he kissed my hand and got up. He picked his clothes off the floor and got dressed.

“I’m sorry to say you won’t get much sleep”

“I wouldn’t sleep for a week if it meant I could spend another night with you” he turned to me smiling while buttoning up his shirt. I slowly walked over to the door to give him a goodbye kiss. But my legs were shaking and I was heavily sore so I had to lean against the wall and Tom.

“goodbye darling” I said with my hands around his neck and I gave him one last goodbye kiss. “Tomorrow we tell the world” and we both smiled. I looked as he peered out the door to make sure no one was there. And then slipped away quietly into the hallway.

I hope you guys liked it I worked really hard on this one and it was hard to write. But I had fun and happy Valentine’s Day! This took me a long time.

Ty for reading

#dowton abbey #tom branson #tom branson x reader #sybil x tom #my wrtitng #fanfic #fanfiction #valintines #valintines day

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downton-musings · 11 months

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Suitors (Thomas Barrow x Female Reader x Tom Branson) CH. 2

Pairings: Thomas Barrow x Female Reader x Tom Branson

Synopsis: Tensions arise as reader navigates newfound feelings for Mr. Barrow and Tom

Warnings: Angst (expression of frustration and jealousy), some coercion, smoking, profanity

Author’s note: Thomas is portrayed as being heterosexual (straight) in this series. If that offends or upsets you, kindly keep scrolling. This is a series, and will be posted in multiple chapters, also the reader is 19 years old *

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A willow tree kept you sheltered under its swaying branches as you concentrated on the notebook in your lap, trapping your thoughts on paper with a black fountain pen.

Its pigmented ink saturated the cream colored pages with the careful movement of your hand.

It was past luncheon now, but hunger didn’t provoke you when you were writing. It was the one occupation that dissolved the world around you, and only made tangible the one in your head.

The lush English Countryside was a welcoming location for new ideas. The steady swishing of the wind encouraged you, as did the sun warming your exposed shoulders.

As your eyes wandered over your pen work, a throat cleared next to you. You finished your last thought with an exaggerated period, slowly turning your head to the visitor.

A familiar pair of blue green eyes met yours, creasing at the edges with affection. Your eyes widened in surprise.

“I just came to inform you that luncheon is being served.” As he spoke you observed his well kept frame, wandering down to his fingers clasped in front of him, fidgeting slightly.

“Oh, right of course.” You let out a breathy laugh, feeling the nerves of being with him alone.

You made haste and closed your notebook with a soft thud, rising from your seat.

“What are you writing?” He asked with curious eyes, inviting himself to sit on the bench with a content sigh.

Obligingly you followed his lead with a flat smile, taking back your original place.

“I couldn’t say.” You quipped, thinking quickly as your brought your leg over the other.

“Why’s that?” He leaned in in intrigue, resting his elbow on the edge of the bench. It appeared that he regressed into his young socialist self, losing sight of manners.

“Because,” you paused, taking in a breath as you conjured a response, “it could be about you.” Your eyes found his as the words left your lips, rendering you both speechless as you shared a prolonged gaze.

“Oh.” He blinked, taken back by your confession. The thought of your journal with his name in it was an all too scandalous notion for him to take in, it made his cheeks flush. “Could be?”

“It will be if you continue to pry,” you teased with a playful tone, giving his shoulder a light tap with the back of your book.

He chuckled softly, showing off his pearly white teeth in genuine amusement. The sight made your own mouth curl into an uncontrollable smile.

“We should get on then.” You suggested as your grin faded, bringing your eyes down to your lap.

A gust of wind came in, softly blowing a few strings of hair over your face.

“Right.” He agreed quietly, admiring you with parted lips.

——————————————————————————

“Do you favor a drink?” Cora asked, turning her head back from the bar table.

“Yes,” you replied, prying your eyes from the orange flames. “Thank you.”

She hummed in acknowledgement.

A clean trickling sound followed the pour of her hand, dispensing gold liquid into a glass.

She glided over to you, handing your drink which you thankfully took from her hand. The cushions squeaked as she sat across from you, gracefully curling her legs to the side.

“You appear quite occupied.” She noted, observing your trance like focus on the burning wood.

Her observation shook your focus, peeling your eyes back to her. “Yes. You see,” you paused, thumbing your glass in nervousness. “You’ll find me quite silly..”

Her head tilted in intrigue. “I’m not quite sure silly is a word I would use to describe you.”

You half smiled, appreciative of her flattery. “No, but you see,” you breathed, dropping your shoulders. “I’ve taken quite a liking to Tom.”

A second of silence followed your confession, making you chew the inside of your lip in anticipation.

“Oh.” She blinked in surprise. “Our Tom?”

“Yes, yes,” you shushed her with a finger to you lip, scanning the room and lowering your voice, “But don’t say anything.”

She nodded silently as a sort of promise, bringing her glass to her lips with a pleased grin.

Thomas’ hands flattened against the other side of the door, head falling back against the hard wood. He exhaled heavily as his mind clouded with disappointment. His blue eyes twitched in the dim light, growing glossy with tears.

“Thomas?” Jimmy’s voice called from the servants entrance, peaking his head out of the door.

“Shit.” He cursed, straightened up his posture and swiping a finger under his eyes.

“Coming.” Thomas called back in a flat tone, sucking in a breath. He struggled to pull himself away from the door, rounding the corner.

“I need a smoke.” Thomas huffed as he stomped over to Jimmy, breathing out harshly through his nose.

Jimmy’s concerned eyes scanned him, his clenching jaw and lowered gaze, wandering in thought.

“You alright?”

“M’fine,” he lied, “just need some air is all.” His hand came down on Jimmy’s shoulder in a reassuring tap as he shuffled past him, descending down the stairs.

The hall was busy with people. Mrs. Patmore was on Daisy’s tail with a pile of dirty dishwater in her arms, cleaning up after supper.

A frustrated Thomas wove in and out of the crowd, raising his hands to squeeze past Anna with an armful of towels.

The bunch was distracted with their own tasks, giving him the opportunity to slip away unnoticed. He hurried down the dimly lit corridor, desperate for escape from his spiraling thoughts. With an eager grasp on the brass knob, he twisted it open, letting in a gentle gust of cool night air. He sighed as it hit his skin, relaxing the tension in his shoulders. A sense of relief washed over him as the door clicked behind him, in solitude at last.

Once alone he hastily reached in his pocket, sifting his fingers through until the familiar cool metal touched his skin.

With shaking fingers he lifted a dry cigarette to his lips, securing it with his mouth as he flicked the lighter. With the cupping of his palm the flame caught, illuminating his tear stained face in an orange glow.

He took a long drag, closing his eyes as the comforting smoke filled his mouth. He held it there for a moment, savoring the feeling before letting it out through his nose.

A cloud of gray followed his repeated movements, polluting the clear moonlit sky with a cast of swirling black.

He propped himself against the stone wall, bringing a slight chill to his skin as he took another drag, mindlessly scuffing the rocks beneath his feet.

As he did so a soft pattering of footsteps stirred from nearby, making him straighten up. He tapped the butt of his cigarette, sprinkling a heap of ashes on the ground as he listened in.

——————————————————————————

The soft whispering of yours and Cora’s voices echoed in the darkened foyer as you spoke at the end of the stairs.

Mrs. Hughes caught your eye, closing the sitting room door once finished cleaning up the sitting room. She offered a grin of acknowledgment before disappearing down the hall.

“I think I’ll go for a stroll.” You inquired, turning you head back to Cora.

Her brows furrowed in concern with a low voice, “Are you quite sure? Is it safe?”

“I’m sure so. I’ll only be a few minutes, I would like to gather inspiration for my writing.”

“Shall I send someone with you?” She offered, uneasy with the idea of you being alone.

“No need. I’ll be just fine.” You leaned in, placing a goodnight peck on her cheek.

Your hands lifted in her grasp, warming as she squeezed them affectionately.

“If you insist.” She caved, relaxing with a smile. “Well goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.” You whispered with a head nod, parting from her as she tip toed up the steps.

You started your separate ways, you for the front door. The large frame swallowed your body as you approached it. With a careful hand, as to not wake anyone, you twisted the gold handle, unlatching the metal with a click.

The door was heavy, requiring a fair amount of weight. You leaned against the wood, huffing slightly as it pushed open, exposing you to the outside air.

A delighted grin spread across your face as you stepped out onto the gravel, eyes dancing in admiration of the moonlit sky.

The door fell closed behind you with the force of a soft breeze, pulling your hair back.

“Alright,” you whispered, studying the darkened greenery with curious eyes. “What shall I discover tonight?”

You started around the corner, kicking up loose stones with your steps, no doubt leaving white powder on the fringe of your dress.

The night was calm, serene. The only time of day where unnatural noises seized to exist, leaving space for the voices of animals and plants. It was still except for the shallow exhales from your nose and chirping crickets.

Dark fluffy silhouettes of trees came into view as you rounded the back of the abbey, greeted by a stone wall to your left.

Your steps slowed as your eyes followed the strategically placed stones, held together with a layer of plaster.

As your eyes drifted back to the path, a cloud of smoke drifted in front of you. Your scrunched your nose as the smell.

In intrigue you followed the swirling cast, crunching the stones beneath your shoes until you were met with an opening in the stone wall.

Pitch black darkness invaded your view. You turned your back, squinting at the moon hiding behind a large tree.

“Hello?” You called in a soft voice, curiously stepping into the enclosure.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness an orange flame exposed itself, revealing a masculine face with sculpted cheekbones.

The figure shuffled, sucking in a shaky breath as he approached you.

A soft gust of wind stirred the branches of the tree, pouring in a veil of moonlight over the man’s face. His eyes were deep blue, sparkling in the white light. They sat deep under his black brows, curiously looking down at you.

“Lady y/n,” he murmured with a low intrigued voice, pulling in a mouth of smoke.

You couldn’t help but study his blush colored lips, pursing out as he exhaled a drag of smoke over his shoulder.

Your neck strained at his height, bringing your heart rate up as you put the pieces together, “Barrow is it?”

He let out a pleased exhale at your recognition.

“Yes ma’am.” A smirk pulled on his lips hearing his name on your tongue, bringing out his dimples.

You shuffled your weight on both feet, unsure of your proximity. Clutching your hands in front of you out of habit, you thumbed the top of your hand.

“I smelled the smoke.” You cleared your throat, “I was out on a stroll you see,” you explained, eyes looking to the side. “Looking for inspiration to write.”

He hummed in intrigue, tilting his head as he finished off his cigarette, tossing it to the side with a soft thud.

“Did you find it?” He asked, scanning his eyes down your figure. Your skin was a glistening cream in the white light, exaggerating your purity and youth.

“I-“ The words seemed to get caught in your throat as his eyes met yours. Your chest rose softly under his gaze. “I believe I have.”

His expression softened at your words. With a pounding heart against his chest, he dug his nails into his palms, fighting to back his desire.

“Very good ma’am.” He replied in the most polite tone he could muster, scarcely concealing his intentions. In the gleaming sapphire of his irises you could make out a string of unspoken words.

“Right,” you started, swallowing thickly. “Well, I’m afraid I’ve found what I was looking for, so I best be headed inside.”

He nodded, giving you an outing. In reluctance you pulled yourself away from him, turning on your heel for the path.

A heavy breath escaped your lips in discontentment, clouding in the cool air.

His footsteps crunched behind you as he made way for the servants door. With his hand it cracked open, letting out a blanket of orange light at your feet.

You turned your head back, catching his broad silhouette before he disappeared into the servants hall.

——————————————————————————

To be continued!

#Thomas barrow #Tom Branson #allen leech #robert james collier #downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #tom branson x reader #thomas barrow x reader #tom branson fan fic #thomas barrow fan fic #angst #period dramas #1920s #bbc #British men

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