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fizzyxcustard · 4 years

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Something Borrowed (1)

Fandom: North and South (modern AU)

Summary: Requested by the wonderful @dabisburntnut Your eldest sister is getting married and you have been invited. However, your family are quite pushy about hooking you up with someone, so you ask your boss (and friend), John Thornton to go with you.

Pairings: Modern!John Thornton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Silliness, insecurity, drunkenness, very slight anxiety mention, slight overweight!reader mention.

Word count: 1544

Comments/Notes: My newest tag list is still under construction, so by all means send me an ask or message if you want to be added for all fics, a particular series or fandom. I’m using Lucas North as my modern!John Thornton. Come on, it’s RA anyway. ;)

Music listened to while writing this piece: ASMR video by FredsVoice ASMR on YouTube.

Masterlist of fan fiction here

It was your lunch break. You plopped down in the seat opposite John, your boss and owner of the factory where you worked as his receptionist. “Can I borrow you for the weekend?” you asked, grinning.

John looked up from the stack of papers on his desk and gave a tired smile.

“You bloody well need it by the looks of it,” you said, seeing the dark circles beneath your friend’s eyes. Had John been sleeping at work again? A couple of times you’d come in at half seven, only to find him asleep in his chair, arms and head on the desk.

“Isn’t your sister getting married?” John asked, stretching back in his seat.

“She is, and my mum is pushing at me to take a guest with me, preferably a man,” you sighed.

“Ahh, a means to an end?” John chuckled wryly.

“No. I didn’t say that,” you replied. “I was thinking of asking you before, but you’ve been so snowed under with all these orders and signing them off, and opening up the new factory, I didn’t think you’d want to go. Or have time to. I’m comfortable with you, John. I don’t feel that with many people.”

John couldn’t help but smile shyly at you. “Well, I’m glad you feel like that.”

“The wedding is at some large country townhouse. Most of what my sister tells me just goes in one ear and out the other, so I don’t really know. All I know is that I’m getting a lift up with my auntie and uncle. We don’t want to take too many cars, so we’re all piling in as few as we can.”

John leaned forward in his chair and watched you, your arms moving this way and that as you explained everything to him. He loved watching you gesticulate; you were so passionate and every word you spoke always sounded so heartfelt. You did nothing by half measure. So if he had been invited to such a close family member’s wedding, then you must have really thought a lot of him.

When you left the office, John sighed to himself and leaned back in his chair, looking out the window behind him. His heart was finally beginning to settle back down to its normal rhythm. You always had this effect on him, but he enjoyed every second of it. The only thing he didn’t enjoy was pondering constantly if you actually felt something for him as he did you. Each lunch break you shared with him; you text each other regularly out of work and, a few times, John had even given you a lift to and from work when your car was being repaired.

***

For the next three days, you began searching for your dress. Of course, like you normally did, you left things to the last minute if they were things you didn’t want to do. Seeing your sister get married was not something that particularly bothered you; she had always seemed to dislike you, constantly taking the opposite stance to you in debates, and she made it clear that her life was more complete because she now had a man she was about to marry and had three children from a previous relationship. Her husband to be wasn’t much better either. Most of the time he ignored you, only passing pleasantries because he felt obliged. The saving grace in all of this was John. He would be your comfort and your familiarity. None of your family made sense to you. Your parents were middle-aged, fairly well off, and found more interest in their twice yearly holidays in Spain and Italy. Your two sisters had their own lives to lead now, and you rarely saw them.

It hadn’t come as a surprise that your sister hadn’t chosen you to be a bridesmaid or her maid of honour. Those titles went to your sister’s best friends, more people who looked down on you like you were a piece of excrement they had just trod in.

By the time you chose your dress, it was almost closing time, two days before the big day. You had settled on a lilac strap dress. It was quite modest, simple and wouldn’t (hopefully) bring too much attention to your thicker curves.

***

On the morning of your travel to the wedding venue, you got up and began your normal routine of shower, breakfast and podcasts on your phone. John would be arriving at ten and then your aunt and uncle at eleven to pick you both up. Your uncle was nearing eighty now so you had asked John if he would possibly take over driving half way as the town house was about a two-hour drive away in the middle of nowhere.

Your small suitcase was ready for the two-night stay away. The voice of a kind man spoke into your ears as he discussed ways of combating anxiety and making the most of your life. Listening to podcasts in a morning and journaling always encouraged you to meet the day with a brave face, and today you would desperately need that brave face. The thought of all your judgemental family in one place didn’t particularly please you. If only the earth could open up and you could disappear somewhere for a couple of days.

John arrived at ten promptly. You let him in and closed your eyes, basking in his wonderful aroma as he wafted past you. “Do you want any breakfast?” you asked.

“I already ate before I came out,” he replied. John placed his weekender bag down in the hallway next to your wheelie suitcase.

***

The drive to the venue was quite uneventful. Your uncle Mike drove slowly and you couldn’t help but keep looking across at John from your seat, ready to laugh at the speed. In the middle of you was your five-year-old niece, Lily. She kept looking up at John, grinning.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Lily asked you.

“No, he’s my friend,” you replied, blushing hard.

“Come on now, dear. You’d make a lovely couple,” your aunt Janet chuckled.

John folded his arms and looked out of the car window. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him; his long legs made him look incredibly uncomfortable, as though he had been folded over many times to fit in the car.

“You should be looking for a nice husband, you know?” uncle Mike said, looking at you through the review mirror. “Mr. Thornton here seems like a good match.”

“Can we just change topic, please?” you insisted. “I think you’re embarrassing him.”

“We didn’t mean anything by it,” aunt Janet replied, sounding sad for upsetting you both.

Once you had arrived at the large house, the grounds covered in acres of trees, plantations and fountains, you all grabbed your belongings from the car and began a steady walk to the hotel which was situated just behind.

Lily held your hand, and for the first time you wondered why she had been forced to come with you. Why hadn’t she gone with your mum and dad? Not that you minded your niece coming along, but it seemed quite harsh breaking her up from her siblings. At least she was with family.

“Auntie (y/n)?” Lily asked politely.

“Yes, sweets?”

She beckoned you down with her small hand so she could whisper in your ear. Her high pitched, melodic voice became low in your ear. “Can you ask Mr. Thornton to dance with me?”

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” you replied, looking over at John.

“Pardon?” John asked, still looking a little uncomfortable and out of place.

“Lily was asking if you’d dance with her at the reception.”

John bent down to the little blonde haired girl and smiled. “You’ll be first on my list,” he said.

The sight of John interacting with your niece made you feel something warm in your chest and it spread outward through you.

“Come on, darlings,” aunt Janet called.

The hotel behind the main venue was a lot more modern, having television screens in the reception and plenty of coffee machines. “Hello,” a well set, dark-haired man said, offering you all a smile. He was dressed in a black suit and you noticed the name Peter on his name badge. “You must be part of the group for the wedding planned for this weekend?”

“We are,” aunt Janet said.

You still kept hold of Lily’s hand and watched John avert his gaze towards the door, as though he wanted to disappear and never be seen again.

“You’ve all been booked into rooms. Can I take all of your names, please?” Peter asked.

Of course you knew that Lily would have to check in properly with her mum and dad, who were strangely absent. Considering that your uncle drove so slow, you seemed to be the first group who had arrived.

Peter then turned to you and John. “I see we just have a ‘plus one’ for you, Sir,” he told John. “But can we take a name.”

“John Thornton.”

“That has all been checked for you. A king-size room is now available for you both.”

You blanched. “Is that one bed or two?” you asked.

“It’s one large bed.”

Oh, shit!

Main tag list: @shikin83 @deepestfirefun @emrfangirl @dabisburntnut @aspookybunny @karlthecat15722 @tigereyesf @swoopswishsward @sunnysidesidra @la-meneur-louve @moony-artnstuff @mama-tole-me-not-2-come @wolfavatar17 @morganofthecoves1 @narnvaeron @hobbitoferebor @meganlpie @thequeenoferebor @mynameisnoneya1991 @jumpingmanatee @xxbyimm @annewoods91 @nowiloveandwilllove @inhabitant-of-the-void @thorinthehottotty @rachel1959 @reinabell @paracosmfantasy @blankdblank @sherala007 @creativelyquestioninglife @c-s-stars @phyreblue @middleearthmama @luna-xial

#John thornton #modern!John thornton #north and south #John Thornton x reader #fanfic #request #north and south au #fanfiction #weddings

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8bityeol · 7 years

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The Pest Across The Hall

Genre : Roomate!AU Summary : If there’s one thing you regret the most in life, it’s letting Sehun become your roomate. (It’s a repost, sue me)

It's not like you didn't like your new roommate…actually it was. He somehow knew how to push all your buttons. Every single one of them. His name was Sehun and when you’d gotten that email from [email protected] it’d never crossed your mind that by opening that email all the horrors of the world would be unleashed into the world. You called the modern pandora box.

There were many things you didn’t like about Sehun and everyday the list seemed to grow in length. You’d even resorted to calling Junmyeon and asking him to take the bugger back in. Obviously and to your dismay, he said no.

You could list many problems with Sehun but the longest and most trying one was the milk.

On Sunday mornings, at precisely 10 o’clock you rolled out of bed and hopped on straight to the kitchen. Although the air was chilly, and the tiles were frozen nothing could stop your bare feet from trodding towards the fridge. Sunday mornings were special for one reason only, cereal. In the normal week day you never had time for cereal due to work and all.

"Sehun!" You yelled. Your hands were shaking as you held the cold carton. “Get down here!”

You could hear the pit patter of feet coming down the stairs, down into the hall then stopping at the kitchen. He stood in the archway, face knitted with confusion. He was ever so oblivious, as always.

"What's wrong?" He asked, balancing his glasses on his nose.

You waved the carton around.

“What?” He asked and then it clicked,"Oh, the milk... I forgot."

You rolled your eyes, "You always forget, Sehun It's honestly not that hard to not put an empty carton in the bin. Did you think i’d drink any empty carton?"

"No...but I promise it won’t happen again," He says, “Should I run to the store?”

"Just- Nevermind, Just go...you’re gonna make me have blood pressure problems by the time I’m thirty,” You muttered as you threw the empty carton into the bin.

“How about I make us some waffles?” he suggests. “Chocolate sauce and whipped cream?”

Although you were impartial to waffles, especially with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, you couldn’t back down. The milk matter was an important one, one that should not be put aside. A cause that had to be fought for!

“Maybe some other day,” You say, before grabbing a pot of yorgurt.

“So today then?” He says. “I’ll call you down when they’re done.”

You grab a spoon and glare at him as he fetches flour out of the cupboard. “If that’s what you want.”

The milk you could forgive simply because he usually made up for it by waffles but, still it was a problem. A small problem but still, a problem. Onto more pressing matters. In the same way you were unable to resist the power of waffles with chocolate sauce, Sehun was unanimously impartial to women who had a disposition to linger longer than need be.

Second problem: the girls

You'd entered your homely abode to find a pair of heels laying haphazardly on the floor. White with clear diamantes? They were clearly not yours. Knowing what would probably be around the corner, you weren’t surprised to find Sehun’s pants decorating your potted plant and a blue mini dress somewhere on the couch. The best part of all, the pink Victoria Secret bra embellished with sparkles and black lace. It was one size too small, therefore clearly not yours.

It’s not that you were a prude, but was it not inappropriate to shed the clothes of your one night stand in a shared area? Especially if one knew their roommate was going to come home from a night shift.

“Good morning” Sehun said with a yawn as he emerged from his room. The strands of silver hairs of his were disheveled a contrast from his usual neat style. He’d gotten it styled last week. “How’s work?.”

“Same as everyday,” You sat down onto the couch, you automatically eyed the dress before flinging it at Sehun, “Keep the clothes in your room next time,” you said.

his eyes scanned the room, “Oh, i didn’t even notice.” without a strand of shame, he strolled over to your plant and grabbed his pants. “Things just happen in the moment.”

“Even if it’s the ‘moment’ you can still wait until you get to your room to start undressing!” You said, “Look, even her bra is here. I better not find a thong in the kitchen.”

He shrugged, “If you knew anything about being in the moment you’d know that sometimes you just can’t wait.” he said with a small smirk.

“Still, just keep your-”

Creak

You whipped around to find a girl draped in Sehun’s duvet, she stared with wide eyes at the both of you. “C-can i have my clothes?” She meekly asked.

She uttered a small thanks as you and Sehun awkwardly located pieces of her clothes dotted around the room. As soon as the door closed announcing her departure you turned back to Sehun with piercing stare.

“It won’t happen again.”

“As if we hadn’t heard that before.”

The girls can be forgiven although it was hard to but let’s clear one thing up, you weren’t attracted to Sehun in anyway what’s so ever. Although Sehun wasn’t the main issue his mingling little friends were, somehow their sticky little fingers couldn’t stop digging their hands into Your chocolate ice cream

Third problem: The Chocolate Ice cream

There were days when you just needed one thing, and today was one of those days you needed chocolate ice cream. It seemed to be the only thing that took your mind off cramps and other things of a similar and painful nature. He was eating up without shame as well!

Because of this incident and many others, you’d begun to hide the chocolate ice cream, precisely behind the stack of frozen vegetables. Sehun didn’t like vegetables, so it was the perfect place to hide it.

Fast word to today, you had found yourself crouched down in the freezer pulling the draws with haste and terror. The vegetable packets were missing and so where the ice cream.

Without wasting a breath, unlocked your phone and scrolled in your contacts until you reached Sehun. It rung a few times until you heard in infuriating voice through the receiver.

“Sehun...where’s my ice cream?” You asked.

“Uh....which ice cream?”

“You know the one.” You sighed into the phone.

There was a silence on the other end, “...the chocolate one?”

“...Noooooo, the strawberry one.”

“I thought you didn’t like str-”

“It was sarcasm and yes i mean the chocolate one” You cut in. “What the hell happened to it?”

“Don’t get angry-”

“I was already angry when i had to call you!”

He let out a loud breath before continuing, “Jongdae ate it- i told him not to though!”

You made a feeble attempt to suppress the shouting you wanted to unleash on Sehun, “Put him on the phone.”

You heard a rustle and the sound of a scuffle before Jongdae gave an apprehensive hello.

“Jongdae, did you eat my ice cream?” You questioned.

“It was an accident!” he frantically said, “Sehun didn’t tell me to stop.”

“I want the both of you to comeback to the house, two tubs of ice cream in hand and a packet of cheeto-”

“I didn’t eat any cheetos” he cut in. You could hear the sound of refusal in background.

You smiled, “It’s compensation for the stress you and noodle boy put me through.”

“Ok, we’ll bring those back.” He said.

You inwardly cheered, there was nothing more heavenly the combination of cheerios and ice cream, “Never eat my ice cream again- Thanks Jongdae, put noodle boy back on the phone.”

“I'm not bringing you cheetos back.”

“Do you want a bed to sleep in at night? Don’t forget you forgot your keys tonight.” You said before ending the call.

A/N

Hehe...I'm here once again, posting a fic that i've already posted on my old account...forgive me.

#sehun scenario #exo scenario #exo fluff #sehun #sehun oneshot #exo #sehun fanfic #exo fanfic #sehun scenarios

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the-haven-of-fiction · 7 years

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The Prize, Ch. 8

Summary: AU Tom, set in early 19th c. London. Madeleine and Tom have known each other since they were teenagers (her brother is married to his sister). Can they overcome their fears and choose each other?

Genre: Romance/Angst/Drama (Written as an experiment in the heaving bosom/bodice ripper vein)

Rating: T (non-explicit sexuality/mild violence in later chapters)

Author’s Notes: Friendly reminder that I am not a “W”riter, I always feel like I can’t describe what I see, and your imagination needs to be on High right now. Only half beta’d, all mistakes are mine. I promised I would post it before I went to bed and I’m exhausted, should probably go back and edit when I have fresh eyes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

“Tom!” she exclaimed upon seeing him enter the library, “Come see what Fred- uh, Mr.Kingston has brought me!”

His Christian name.

She had just caught herself using his Christian name.

And she was cradling an armful of new books.

That were from him.

Tom wanted to march over to her and tear them from her hands, throw them into the fire, wipe every trace of memory about that man from her mind.

She was smiling, eyes dancing with excitement as they always did at receiving such gifts.

The intimate way she referenced him, the present of the books, and the embrace…

They could only mean one thing.

It was too late.

“You can’t marry him.”

The smile disappeared at his words, words that were uttered as a command, words that sounded harsh and imperious. Words that he knew were wrong, but that he couldn’t stop.

“You can’t marry him,” he repeated with a nod and took another step towards her.

He was horrified when she matched his step with a backwards one of her own and she drew the books to her chest, as if she read his mind and knew his intent and was trying to protect them.

And herself.

Her eyes were now flaring in alarm. She was looking at him as if he were a stranger.

“What?” asked in a tone rife with true confusion.

He said it a third time, hands clenched, the image of Mr.Kingston’s arms around her burned into his vision, the reality of his temporary physical limitations in reference to his slinged arm making him feel still more helpless.

No!

Not my Madeleine!

“I can’t?” she said as her brows furrowed.

He shook his head in affirmation of her question.

“I can’t allow it.”

The expression on her face was unlike anything he had ever witnessed. Incredulity, indignation at his assertion; and rightly so, for it was the first time he had spoken to her in this manner.

“You can’t allow it?” she asked, stunned.

Their exchange at the ball rang through his memory.

“He is not the man who is worthy of you.”

All reason disappeared from his mind. The fear from the last couple of days was suddenly overtaking him again. Fear when he couldn’t rouse her after the accident, fear that she was injured or worse, this new fear that she would truly be lost to him forever.

“You have known him for such a short time. You do not know what you are doing. You are not in full possession of the facts.”

This was going all wrong. Terribly wrong.

He had imagined this scene so many times, for so many months now. He had imagined a lovely, mild evening exactly like this one. He had imagined them together in this house, where she was mistress and nothing would disturb them. In the perfect scenario, the best and most hoped for, he had imagined confessing his affection with the ardent wooing of a lover. He had imagined her flushed with surprise and pleasure at the sweetness of his address, not repulsion and anger at the arrogance of his accusations.

Do something! Say something! Tell her the truth!

“Madeleine, I –“

“The facts, Thomas,” she interrupted, spitting out his name as if it were the bitterest pill in her mouth, “are these. Firstly, this is my home and I will not be spoken to in such a manner, not by you or by anyone. Secondly, I am fully capable of making my own decisions without your approval. Lastly, the conceit you are revealing in this unprecedented display, as though you hold by natural right or my personal consent the power to dictate my choice of husband, is astonishing. How dare you, sir.”

Her voice was shaking by this time.

He was paralyzed.

“Mr.Kingston is a good and honorable man, one who has never spoken to me with anything less than respect and the highest form of gentlemanlike decorum, with anything remotely resembling how you have just now spoken to me.”

He wanted to shake himself from this sudden nightmare. He wanted to turn back the hands of the clock for these last few minutes and start afresh without stubborn masculine pride and stupidity.

“Not even my brother would do as you have done.”

She spoke now with a dreadful sadness, all anger had abated as swiftly as it had sprung.

Madeleine. no.

My darling Maddy, no.

No, this isn’t how it should be.

Please, let me explain.

But she closed her eyes and turned away from him, not seeing that he found the will to move and was reaching for her, silently pleading for her forbearance and forgiveness.

“You have insulted me, you have insulted the affectionate acquaintance between us in the most offensive manner. Please leave.”

Oh, no.

No, don’t send me away.

“I can not bear to be in the presence of someone who has carelessly trod upon a friendship of so many years.”

Friendship. That is all this was. That is all it will ever be now.

“If you have any part of the gentleman remaining in you from that time, please do as I wish and leave.”

You are a blundering fool and you have destroyed your chance. Don’t cause her further pain.

He forced himself to obey, to leave her in a state of bewilderment and self-reproach.

How had this happened.

How had he let this happen.

In mere minutes he had laid waste to every noble intention and hope for a future with her.

How could he possibly repair what he had destroyed in those minutes.

With only a few words spoken in pride, fear, and jealousy.

Words that should have been spoken in love, honesty, and respect.

He exited the library, bumping into the doorframe in his haste, sending pain shooting up his arm into his shoulder. He strode down the hall and into her other favorite room on the first level.

It was dark and he stumbled to the tall mullioned windows and pulled back the drapes to let in the first rays of moonlight. They fell on her mother’s harp and the pianoforte where he had sat with Madeleine and she had taught him to play. He had taken to it quite naturally, surpassing her own skill in a very short amount of time.

He lifted his good hand to the keys. They caressed the smooth ivory for a moment while he attempted to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

Playing always soothed him. He composed his own music when was alone. She was the only one who knew among his family.

And now…

Now she would never know that it was all for her.

He would never be able to tell her that every note bore her name.

The tune that his fingers began was one she had not heard.

It had only been heard by another.

By the one he thought could replace her.

He had not played it since that night.

That terrible night when she had turned away from him, as Madeleine had done, and quietly asked him to leave. As Madeleine had done.

He did not think he would play it again.

But it came unbidden, rushing through his mind and out of his hand in a flood, so different from all of the others.

And those words came unbidden, the words before she had turned away, when she stood next to him as the final chords faded away.

“This is not for me, is it?”

She had been so sad when she spoke, as Madeleine had.

It had been obvious to her. It had been obvious that the progression of notes was teeming with love that was unsure, with desire that was unmet. It could not be for her.

He grit his teeth in frustration at his injury, wishing he could put both hands to the instrument and release, by that action, his heart from this tempest.

When he looked up minutes later, she was there, observing him from the threshold, as he had observed her dancing in the library that morning.

Madeleine.

My Madeleine.

There were tears in her eyes, as there had been in Lucie’s.

For Lucie’s tears, he had felt guilt. He had felt shame.

Madeleine’s tears were infinitely worse.

He had wanted to soothe Lucie’s tears so that his own errors and feelings of disquiet would be soothed. With Madeleine, he wanted to soothe her tears because he had caused them and because…

Because he loved her.

He rose slowly from the bench, waiting to see if he was going to be granted a reprieve. Although truthfully, it would not matter what she said; he only wanted her voice, her eyes, her attention on him. He was the young child who craves the notice of the one he loves, who would submit to any criticism, any correction, anything. If only he could be in her presence.

“There’s no need to leave your place there, I simply wanted to tell you that I am quite tired and I have asked Mrs.Copplan to send a tray to my room with some supper. She will provide you with whatever you require for the evening.”

The coldness and detachment in her voice struck him keenly. Before he could speak, she murmured her goodnight and he stood and listened to her light footfall until he could hear it no more.

A lonely, miserable evening was before him. The dining room was quiet during his solitary meal. He missed their lively chatter across the table, he missed her enjoyment of the first supper when she returned home. Although he was not engaged in conversation, the cacophony inside his mind raged. Normally he would have gone out for a ride, but her objection to the activity that morning at the inn kept him on solid ground. He opted for a stroll out to the gardens again.

By the time he reentered the house, he had a plan. He knew her. He knew her gentle and forgiving nature. He knew her to be gracious, to be understanding. He would simply have to trust in all that he knew of her, in all that he had learned and come to love about her over the years.

He was about to climb the stairs and retire for the night when it crossed his mind that some reading might also help to calm him. Surprise filled him as he made his way down the hall and saw light coming from the room. Perhaps…

His hope was realized when he slowly pushed open the door and saw her curled up in one of the large chairs by the fireplace, a shawl adding another layer to her nightgown and robe. There was a book in her hand, but it was resting on her lap and she was staring off into space.

Ordinarily he would have attempted to leave without her noticing him, not wanting to cause her any embarrassment about her state of attire. But after last night, when she had so boldly appeared before him in a similar state at the inn, and with the current storm between them, he decided it was not something to be given much thought.

He cleared his throat and her gaze met his.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she stated flatly, although her voice had a slight quavering. “I never can sleep when someone is…when I have…”

He saw again that she was on the verge of tears and this time he was determined.

In a few short steps he was in front of her, knees hitting the carpet. Her eyes widened at his movements and he took the book from her lap, closing it and setting it on the table beside the chair. His hand covered her own. He picked up each one in turn, pressing them to his cheeks, needing to feel her soft skin against his.

“Madeleine. My sweetest Maddy, please, do not cry. I am a fool and I am not deserving of your tears. Will you give me a few minutes? Will you grant me that? Let me explain.”

She was still from his first words to his last, her breathing steady throughout his speech. She listened with patience, looking at him as if she would give him all the time he wanted. She listened as he began at the beginning, listened as he gripped her hand, clinging to it like a lifeline to a drowning sailor.

He told her of the slow progression of his feelings, of his fears of harming the familial ties between them, of his endeavor to let her go and his trip to France, of his jealousy of Mr.Kingston, of his conversation with Elton. The clock on the mantle passed from one hour to the next. Still she sat and listened.

“Can you forgive me? My behavior was abominable and I promise, I will never act in such a manner again.”

She nodded, somewhat overwhelmed and not quite able to speak. He bowed his head as a penitent receiving absolution and shut his eyes in relief.

A weight lifted from him, but a wave of shyness rolled in and the final entreaty he had planned to give remained unspoken. He had shared with her everything that there was to share, laid himself open and honest before her, confessed his love. All that was needed was to inquire if there was any chance that she could return the depth of his affection. And be his prize.

He looked up at her, opened his mouth to ask that most vital questions, but she brought her fingers up to his lips and shook her head.

“I have heard enough.”

Oh, God, no. It’s too late.

He moved to stand, to flee like an embarrassed child.

Her next words froze him to the ground.

“And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to kiss me.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fan fiction #the prize #the prize chapter eight

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