Based off of a scene from ‘Miss Austen Regrets,’ a Tom Hiddleston BBC Film.
"It’s just gone midnight! It’s Sunday, the Lord’s day," John Plumptre said in quiet desperation, arms untwining from behind his back and outstretching to the storming Fanny. "Please, Fanny, understand! It’s past the time for dancing." He followed her through the people, weaving their way through laughter and music, all of which, Fanny noted bitterly, they were not taking part in.
She turned around and glared at him, hands positioned on her hips. “There are people here having a better time than I am, and it’s my bloody house! Look around you, John. Do you see that? It’s called having fun. Enjoying yourself. Something a stick in the mud like you is incapable of doing!”
Immediately as the words left her mouth, she regretted uttering them, and she covered her mouth with a gloved hand. John’s blue eyes stared back at her, full of hurt and conflict. He longed to dance with her, to make her happy in any way he could, but he was a man of strong faith, and was caught in a situation less than desirable for his personal morals.
Fanny sat down in a chair, beside others who did not have partners for the lively dance. She sat in silence, John behind her, straightening his necktie awkwardly. He looked at her bored expression, restless body language, and listened to her hitched breath.
He knew she wouldn’t listen to his religious excuses, and felt a sense of hopelessness well inside of him. He hadn’t the slightest idea what to do!
Suddenly, something inside of him clicked. As he opened his mouth to speak to her, she turned around at the exact moment. “John- I mean, Mr. Plumptre, I… I apologize for what I said. It was not my place to speak to you in that manner-” She was silenced by his hand taking hers.
"Fanny," he swallowed, kneading her delicate fingers into his, "I’ve been a perfect ass. Really. You had every right to call me what you did, because it’s true. Or it was. Until now, my darling. May I have this dance?"
Fanny sat, unblinking for a second, when a beaming smile graced her features. “Oh, John, I’d love to!” John took both her hands, stood her up, and wrapped one arm around her waist, placing the other on her shoulder.
A new song started, and the two laughed and clapped together, joining the others’ high spirits. His blonde curls wriggled their way out of his careful setting as they enjoyed the dance, and Fanny’s single blonde braid loosened.
After the celebration had ended, their feet sore from dancing, the two young lovers made their way out giddily to the garden, drunk off the cheerful atmosphere. “That was magnificent!” Fanny laughed, and John twirled her around, the cool darkness of night washing over them.
They sat down on a bench together, a beech tree covering them overhead. John cleared his throat suddenly, and Fanny looked at him. She sensed seriousness in the air, and cocked her head. “What is it?”
He looked up at her, eyebrows knit. She suddenly grew worried, and repeated her inquiry. “John, what is it?” He gazed deep into her eyes, searching for encouragement.
"Fanny, I’ve got something to tell you." He straightened his back, and leaned in a little. "Something I’ve been wanting to tell you since the day I laid eyes upon your beauty." Fanny immediately blushed.
He coughed, and looked up toward the sky, as if in silent prayer. He shifted, and cleared his throat once again. “I have feeling for you so deep that I know in my heart that I cannot deny them. You are my world, my savior, my everything. I know that I can be…” he looked down uncomfortably, “Dull, or… serious. But that is not all that I am. I can be fun, I can show you adventure.”
Fanny nodded at John through a bashful smile, recalling the exciting events of the evening, which gave him a boost of confidence. “And… well… I know what I must do. Fanny… Would you become my wife?”
Fanny’s eyes widened, and brimmed with tears of joy. She genuinely believed he would never propose to her, which now made little sense to her. She fell into his open arms, lips caressing his gorgeously smooth face all over. “Yes, yes, yes! My love, it would be a dream come true!” John breathed a sigh of relief, grinned, and kissed her back, leaning in close to her ear.
"I truly love you- Mrs. Plumptre."
I said….. KNEEEEEL!!
A/N: Smut later. Zombie blood. Sexy Tom. You have been warned.
You run. You don’t look back.
That’s all you can do now.
As the zombies chase you, tears roll down your face as you look around at what the world has become. Fire, wreckage, and hectic people running around the streets. The very few percentage of the population that hasn’t been infected.
You are a small town girl, just turned 24, and you were born and raised in the country. You had never really known what it’s like to live in a big city, but you’ve craved adventure since you were young. You also wish you could meet someone and fall in love with them, but now that the world had been overtaken by the apocalypse, it seemed unlikely to zero odds.
As you run, you can hear the sickening crunch of the undead gaining on you from behind. You feel your legs start to weaken underneath you, the hot strain of your muscles giving way.
But you force yourself to keep going. You are going to survive this.
After a while, your endurance thins once more, and this time, you know if you don’t stop, you’re dead. The zombies have endless stigma; they can keep going for miles. You can’t get away.
You fall to the ground, fear and hopelessness eating away at you. You look up to the face of the zombies closing in on you, and wrinkle your nose from the smell. The worst part is, you can recognize most of them as people you used to know.
But they’re not people anymore, you remind yourself.
The one at the front closes in, and just as it gets close enough to bite, loud gunshots rings through the air, and blood splatters all over you.
You scream as the zombies fall, and look up to meet the eyes of your rescuer.
There, looking down at you, wearing a ripped, skin tight white T-shirt and baggy cargo pants, is Tom Hiddleston.
“Sorry for the mess, miss,” he says politely, blowing the smoke off of his shotgun. His face is covered with grime, and the rips in his tshirt reveal defined, lean muscles. You bite your lips and cross your legs.
“N-no problem…” you stutter, in awe of the brutally sexy man before you.
He offers you a hand, and you take it. He pulls you up close to him, and you can smell his cool aftershave mixed with the scent of gunpowder. “Stick with me, and you’ll be safe,” he says smoothly, and you nod.
You follow him through the carnage of the town, explosions going off in the distance. “How did you get to be so…” “Dirty?” he finishes. You were going to say ripped, but decided against it. “Yeah.”
He laughs. “It’s really quite a funny story. You see, I was just out for my run the day the apocalypse started, and suddenly, the world had gone hectic. I had some training in defence some years ago, so I knew what I was doing.
I’ve always been a resourceful man, so I decided to steal some guns from the army and protect myself. Ever since then, I’ve been leading the rebellion against the undead. I’m the only one left, though.”
You move closer to him. “Thank you for saving my life,” you whisper, and he smiles. “Think nothing of it, love.”
You two keep walking. “So, what do you plan to do? I mean, the zombies aren’t going anywhere, so how will you live?” “I have a good friend on another world that’s willing to bring me there. I am allowed to bring one other person, which is why I’ve been searching the streets for any survivors. You see, all my friends and family members are dead now.” He looks down sadly, and you feel sympathetic for the kind man.
You look down yourself, and wish silently that you might be that one person he chooses. Could he be the one? The one you’ve craved all these years?
Suddenly, a group of zombies advance on you two, and Tom guides you behind his back. “Stay there, I’ll protect you.” He takes out his gun, and aims at them. He makes his mark on every one, but one is left over when he runs out of bullets.
He swears under his breath, a sound that makes you incredibly hot, and takes out a mini shotgun that he forgot to load. As he’s loading it, the zombie lunges, and you shout to him. “Look out!” But he’s not paying attention.
Somewhere, in London…
You squint, scanning the club you’re at. You were sent with a purpose: watch out for any of the evil Dr. Loki’s minions, and report them back to intelligence.
You look around the room in a subtle manner, keeping an eye on the people. Then, out of nowhere, a bright light flashes and a rainbow-coloured car appears in the middle of the dance floor. Everyone makes way, and starts to dance again around it.
You raise an eyebrow, curious to see who the driver is. Suddenly, the door swings open, and out steps a psychedelically dressed man, looks about your age. You feel a slight smile playing at the edge of your lips. This must be the man intelligence sent to work with you.
But he’s never met you before, so he doesn’t know what you look like. You grin. Time to have a little fun.
You lift your leg from its wrap around position on the banister, and walk the twisted staircase. You watch him like a hawk, as he dances his way enthusiastically through the crowd. He makes eyes at every woman, but when his eyes lay to rest on you, dressed in your skin tight jumpsuit, he stops.
There’s something in him that compels him to come to you, and you walk up to him. He grins a brilliant white smile, and comes over to you, taking your hand and twirling you to the music.
“What’s your name, baby?” he asks promiscuously, British accent drawling. “y/n.” “Well, y/n, you’re looking VERY SHAGADELLIC, baby, yeah!!” he laughs.
You dance up close to him, and smile. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.” He was dressed in a black tux with a red tie, and his wavy light brown hair was combed back into a ruffle. His pants were extremely tight, but you had to admit, they were quite complimentary. He stares at you, scrunching up his nose playfully and barking like a dog.
“I’m Hiddleston. Tom Hiddleston,” he says, licking his lips as you shake your butt. “Pleasure to meet you, Tom,” you say, and he winks. “You haven’t had the pleasure yet, baby. We just met!!” You both laugh.
“I have a question for you, y/n.” he dips you dramatically. “DO I MAKE YOU HORNY BABY, DO I?!” You keep dancing as you laugh. “You can start by buying me a drink.” He whistles, and pulls your body close to his as you two groove to the beat.
Suddenly, another woman with short blonde curls interjects, and steals Tom away. He looks between you two, desperate to get back. He stares at you pleadingly, but the other woman moves in front of him. “Hello. I’m Zelda. Zelda Fitzgerald,” she said with a southern accent.
He half smiles at her. “Very shagadellic name, baby.” She smiles back. “So… are you here on a mission?” she asks, biting her lip. “Cause I am.” “Well, as a matter of fact, I am. I don’t know if you’ve heard of me,” he says, trying to seem modest but failing, “I’m Tom Hiddleston, international Man of Mystery.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of you, Mr. Hiddleston,” she says as she dances close to him.
You’ve had enough. It was getting serious now. No more fun and games. You grab Tom’s arm, and pull him away into private. “You better play it cool,” you whisper, “Your little friend’s working for Dr. Loki.” He turns. “And just who do you work for, baby?” he asks playfully.
“Alright, rolling in 5, 4, 3, 2…”
“Hello, everyone, I’m Tom Hiddleston, and this is the critically aclaimed Food Network show: Cooking With Tom! Now, as you may know, I am a huge fan of pudding,” Tom says as he walks around behind the counter. “I know what you may be thinking, and no, I don’t mean the jiggly kind of pudding. In Britain, pudding means dessert. And, let me tell you,” he says pointing at the camera, “I love dessert. But aside from that little drabble, let’s get cooking!”
“So, over here, are some lemons. Always use lemons in your cooking if you want some zest, never limes, because limes are too sweet, and overpower the tangy kind of flavour you’re looking for. So, using these lemons… we shall make…. a salad.”
“See these heads of lettuce here? Well, these are so fresh, just out of the garden and washed off, and we’re going to use them in our salad. Now, the theme of the salad will be like a fresh kind of zingy tasting mixture of vegetables and such, so we can make it rather crunchy.”
Tom grabs the head of lettuce and squeezes it with his long, slender fingers as he smiles cheerily. “Let’s chop.”
He takes out a knife, and begins to slice the lettuce as he looks up to the camera. “Truth be told, I’m more of an iceberg lettuce type of fellow, but you may prefer to use romaine in yours, each to their own.” He finished chopping, and begins to squeeze the lemon into the salad.
“And that’s the magical thing about cooking, you can make it any way you want!”
He bounces over to the left side of the counter, and grabs an onion. “Now, lastly, what completes the whole thing is an onion,” he says, holding the onion close to the screen, showing everyone. “Onions are, what I like to call, the cherry on top, ehehe, because it just completes the dish. So let’s just chop this up…. And… throw it in!”
Tom tosses the salad around with his fingers, muscles in his forearms flexing.
He leans down and smells the salad. “Mmmm. Heavenly. Even Loki couldn’t resist something like this,” he says, laughing at his own joke. “I wish all of you were here to enjoy it with me! Looks positively delicious.”
Tom eats some, and realizing the camera’s still rolling, widens his eyes in surprise and grins. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I feel so rude, sorry… this is really good…” he says with his mouth full, trying to cover it. He laughs.
“Ehehehe, so I hope you enjoyed cooking with Tom, just a regular old bloke making some grub. And, uh, next time, we’ll tackle a good pudding together! Doesn’t that sound good, hm? Bye now!”
“And, off the Air. That’s a wrap for today!”
Tom relaxes himself a bit, and hoists himself up onto the counter, sitting with (of course) his legs spread wide apart. “Man, this is some good salad,” he grins as he eats another mouthful, and winks.
About 10 minutes later, you wake up. Everything is so eerily quiet. You look down, to find Tom floating beside the debris you’re laying on, shivering just like you.”Tom?”
He looks up at you, smiling his sweet smile despite the circumstances. His lips are an icy blue, and icicles have formed on the ends of his hair and eyelashes. “H-how are y-you?” he asks. “Cold.” “M-me too.”
You look around, and realize this water is too cold to survive after a long period of time. You try to pull him up onto the wood with you, but he stops you. “I w-won’t fit,” he says. You look down at him, and he pulls your hands closer to his mouth, and breathes the last of the warm air he has in him in attempt to warm you up. “You m-must promise me to have s-so many more adventures in your l-life, your long, h-happy life,” he says. “With you to share them with,” you add, tearing up. He just smiles. “I l-love you. You’re the b-best thing that ever h-happened to m-me.”
He kisses your hands, and reaches into his chest pocket. “You l-left this in m-my jacket last n-night,” he says, smiling. He hands you your pearl necklace, and you take it. “Now, j-just close your eyes, and a b-boat will be here for us s-soon.”
You do as he says, and lie on your back, trying to forget the biting cold, grasping his hand tightly. “I’ll never let go of you, my princess. I’ve got you forever,” you hear him whisper. You feel yourself drift off into a peaceful dream.
In the dream, you and Tom are getting off together at the ship dock, and he gets down on one knee and presents you with a ring. You then get married with lots of flowers and music, and as you passionately kiss and laugh together, the dream ends and you wake up.
You look around, adjusting to your surroundings, and notice a boat off in the distance. You look down at Tom. He was sleeping as well. “Tom!” you whisper happily, the cold almost blocking your voice. You put his hand to your face. They’re ice cold.
You open your eyes. What time is it? You wonder. At the moment, you couldn’t care less. You turn, and find Tom lying next to you. He opens his eyes, sensing your stir. “Good morning, beautiful,” he says with his sweet smile. “Good morning,” you smile back, leaning over and kissing him. Being the furnace room, your clothes had dried out by now. You remember where you are, and feel a twinge of worry. “Let’s go, before someone catches us in here,” you say. He takes your hand and pulls you down, and guides your lips into one more kiss before he gets up.
"That was the best adventure I’ve ever had," you marvel. He looks at you. "I’ve traveled the world, seen it’s great wonders and Earth’s greatest beauties, but you outdo all of them by far. All the adventures I’ve been on through my travels- last night topped them all," he says as he runs his hand through your hair. You hug him tightly. That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to you. You get up.
When you get upstairs to your room, Chris was sitting there, waiting for you.
"Where were you? No, don’t answer that- I know where you were. Scarlett told me everything." All the color drains from your face, and your heart skips a beat. She must have seen you two last night in the pool. It seems she knows you well enough to know you weren’t going to listen to her.
"What am I supposed to do about this, huh?!" he yells. He smashes a mug, takes your wrist, and leans into you. "I don’t care about your feelings, and regardless of a loveless marriage, I WILL have you as my wife." He releases his grip. "Get ready for the banquet tonight, as we WILL be announcing our engagement then." He opens the door, and leaves. You soak in all that just happened, and throw yourself on the bed, crying.
You feel Chris shake you from your sleep. “Wake up, darling, we have a long day. We must prepare for the announcement of our wedding tomorrow.” You open your eyes. “I’m coming,” you mumble. You feel groggy and half asleep as you pick your dress for the day. Then you remember! You’re supposed to meet with Tom tonight at the pool! This immediately brings a wide smile to your face.
"What are you smiling about?" asks Chris. You take offense to this. "Do I need a reason to SMILE?" you ask angrily. "I was merely asking," he replies. You choose a green dress. "I’ll be downstairs," he says.
He had begun to notice your loss of interest in him. He doesn’t seem to care, though. He isn’t about to cancel the engagement. He would marry for social status, not love. He opens the door, and leaves.
Soon after, you follow down to the dining hall. You sit down quietly next to your sister, who looks at you disapprovingly, and leans in. “I won’t tell anyone of what I saw last night, if you promise never to repeat such an immature act.” “But, Scarlett, I think I may love him. True love!” She looks at you in disbelief. “There is no such thing as ‘true love,’ my naive little sister, and you’d do well to remember that! Now promise you will never see that man again!”
You nod slowly, falsely promising. But there was no way you are about to give up the one chance you have at real, true love. You can feel it.
You spend the next couple of hours dully chatting with some wealthy people you don’t even know and had never heard of, with a fake, glamorous smile pasted on your face. You feel trapped, and utterly bored out of your mind. You see Scarlett eyeing you meaningfully, reminding your of your promise.
You wake to the sunlight streaming through the port window. Chris had already gotten up and left, leaving behind a note that read “gone down for meeting.” You toss it down. Ugh! You think. Another dull meeting with all the dull high society people.
You get dressed in a pale blue morning dress with a white shawl. As you open you’re the door to the deck, the strong wind blows your skirt up a bit. You look around, embarrassed.
Oh! You think. Maybe I should go up and check the observation deck… No… what am I doing? I don’t even know him, and I shouldn’t know him. But you decide to look anyway. You make sure to carefully hoist your skirt as you climb the stairs. You peek up, and - your heart sinks. He’s not there.
"Looking for someone?" says a voice behind you. You’re so surprised that you slip on the step, and tumble backward. He catches you, his hand fitting perfectly around your waist. You take a moment to register in your mind everything that’s going on, and realizing, you blush deeply and quickly stand up, smoothing your dress. "Uh, no," you say, "I was actually looking for the restaurant." "Up here? On the observation deck?" "Well… not exactly." He smiles at you.
"So, have you told him yet?" You remember what you told him last night. "Oh…No. Not yet." He looks deep into your eyes, but doesn’t say anything else on the subject. "Speaking of restaurants, would you like to have a bite sometime?" he asked you. The question hits you like a brick. "I-I can’t. You know I can’t."
"Meet me here tonight, 10:00 PM, at the front of the ship," he said with a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
You both part ways, you going down to the banquet hall for lunch. You feel tingly inside. This is preposterous! You think. This is highly inappropriate! But you can’t deny the feeling he gives you when you’re around him, your little glimmer of want for more of him.
"Ah! Darling!" says Chris. "Glad you could make it!" You sit down next to him. "Everyone, we have an announcement." Oh no! You think. "Darling, I have a better idea," you whisper, "why not wait until the day after tomorrow, so we can make the announcement at the ceremonial tea." He thinks for a moment. "Yes.. I suppose that would be fitting." He sat back down.Sitting to your left was your sister, Scarlett. She looks at you.
"You’ve been acting very distant lately," she says. "Is everything alright? Because you know sweetheart, if it’s about your wedding, you don’t have to worry about a thing! Everything’s covered-" "Well maybe it’s not about my wedding!" you snap at her. Was this all she cared about? Your stupid wedding?! You get up from the table. "I’m very tired. I must rest," you say as you walk away, your sister watching you with shocked eyes from your outburst. As you get into your room, you throw yourself onto the bed. I wish I could run away from my life, my duties, my expectations! You think, and roll over. At least my dreams will be adventurous…