(no subject)
Character: Molly Seagrim
Fandom: Tom Jones (novel)
Community: DF
Word Count: 201
Rating: PG
Prompt: A rose.
His first present was a pink rose, plump and new and wild. She had marveled over it as if it had been the only rose in Christendom, and he had smiled. It was a lovely, awful, quirked smile that made him look half angelic and half demonic and utterly handsome. He never spent money on her, she would realize later. His gifts were mainly wild roses and kisses, and both could be had for free. But that first gift was as wonder-filled as if it had been a singing clockwork nightingale. Because it was for her. It was hers.
Molly never knew the full infamy of Will Barnes, though she did eventually hear it in part, from her sister and others. But try as she might, what she remembered most clearly was that smile and that rose and the way that he whispered that his heart was hers when they made love. It wasn’t that he loved her that truly mattered, though that did go to her head at the time. He was hers. And the dried rose in her window reminded her of the pretty, brittle lie that had first won her, no matter how many conquests she made later.
Fandom: Tom Jones (novel)
Community: DF
Word Count: 201
Rating: PG
Prompt: A rose.
His first present was a pink rose, plump and new and wild. She had marveled over it as if it had been the only rose in Christendom, and he had smiled. It was a lovely, awful, quirked smile that made him look half angelic and half demonic and utterly handsome. He never spent money on her, she would realize later. His gifts were mainly wild roses and kisses, and both could be had for free. But that first gift was as wonder-filled as if it had been a singing clockwork nightingale. Because it was for her. It was hers.
Molly never knew the full infamy of Will Barnes, though she did eventually hear it in part, from her sister and others. But try as she might, what she remembered most clearly was that smile and that rose and the way that he whispered that his heart was hers when they made love. It wasn’t that he loved her that truly mattered, though that did go to her head at the time. He was hers. And the dried rose in her window reminded her of the pretty, brittle lie that had first won her, no matter how many conquests she made later.