Underneath (A Tom Hiddleston Fan Fiction)

1. He's the One.

A/N: Okay, so, when I first joined Wattpad, I told myself that I wouldn't even read any fan fiction, let alone write any, yet here we are. And this is where @circa1927 comes in. I stumbled across her Tom fiction, Crumbs, one afternoon, and I was hooked before I knew it. So hooked that I proceeded to read all of her other Tom fics, too. I enjoyed them all so much that I was inspired enough to try my hand at fan fictions again, and so Underneath came about.

And I have to apologise for my poor excuse for a cover! Wattpad covers really aren't my forte, so if anyone would care to help me out (because, let's face it, I really need it), I would be eternally grateful!

Right, enough of my rambling. Here's chapter one and I hope you all enjoy!

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Everything was going to plan. She’d woken up on time; she hadn’t had to dash for her train to Waterloo; she’d even managed to claim a seat on the Tube. Lydia Andrews was having a good day.

Bright sunlight greeted her as she emerged from Knightsbridge Underground station. She slid her Wayfarers onto her face as her heels clicked purposefully down the street. The realisation that she even had enough time to grab herself a caramel mocha and a pain au raisin made her grin.

 Lydia had only been back in the open for thirty seconds before her phone started going berserk. E-mails, texts, and voicemail messages started coming through, one after another. Lydia slid the phone out of the pocket of her blazer, frowning; she’d never been this popular before. But before she had a chance to look at anything, it started to ring.

“Eliza, my darling, good morning!” Lydia chirped. Eliza was her agent, and usually the only person to ever contact her. It wouldn’t have shocked Lydia if all the messages she’d just received were from her.

“I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning!” Lydia’s heart sunk; that did indeed solve the mystery of the messages. “What have you been doing?”

“I’ve been on the Tube.” All phone signals were wiped out on the Underground. “What’s the matter, lovey? You sound irate.”

Eliza made a hysterical squealing noise. “They’ve changed it! They’ve changed the venue!”

Lydia came to an abrupt halt. “You what?” Her voice was flat. She ignored the grumblings of other commuters who had suddenly had to swerve to avoid her. “Where to?”

“Some little café off Oxford Street,” Eliza moaned. Lydia could picture her agent’s face as though she were standing in front of her – she’d have one eye scrunched shut, as though she’d paused mid-flinch, waiting for Lydia’s reaction.

“Are you serious!?” Lydia all but bellowed. She ignored the startled glances of passersby. “That’s a good twenty minutes away, Eliza. The meeting’s in,” she glanced at her watch, “ten!”  

“I know,” Eliza whined. “What are you going to do?”

Turning on her heel, Lydia began to march the way she’d come. “Eliza, I don’t pay you to have a breakdown every time something goes tits up,” she snapped. “I pay you so I can have a breakdown every time something goes tits up.”

 Eliza stuttered before clearing her throat. “Yes, right. I’ll get an e-mail sent out and explain what’s happened.” Lydia could hear the tapping of a laptop keyboard. “Okay, that’s sent.”

The sudden weight that had formed on Lydia’s shoulders lifted slightly. “Thank you,” she sighed, pausing at the stairs that led down into the station.