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cookieek · 2 years

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A Lord and Lace (one shot)

Ao3 Wattpad

Please note that the following fic is most likely not period accurate. I have done some research, but it has mostly consisted of skim reading regency blogs, Wikipedia articles, articles about fountain history and articles about fountains written in the late regency period (“The Repository of arts, literature, commerce, manufactures, fashions and politics”, 1809-1828, on archive./org). At it’s core, this fic is mostly based on a few contemporary historical romances I’ve read, and is not intended to be a 100% period accurate piece of fiction, set your expectations accordingly.

Content warning for ableism, family issues (including abuse) and depictions of meltdowns.

~~~~

Arthur felt like piss.

It had only been two weeks since his fiancé, or well, ex-fiancé had left to elope with someone else, in France, and he still could hear her last words ringing in his head.

“It just was too much Arthur.”

He remember wanting to shout, yell. What! What had been too much!? Was it his love? But how could love be too much? He didn’t know it could be that. At least he didn’t until she was already gone and he’d as a result spent two nights and days moping around the house. He would have probably stayed there wallowing in his self-pity had it not been for his friends arriving at the urgency of his parents to shake some sense into him again. Which was honestly impressive considering how spread apart they all were.

“What sort of friends would we be if we didn’t help out a friend in need just because of a few miles of traveling?” Hans had said to him as he patted his back, poured him some fresh water, and handed him a freshly baked pastry.

Arthur appreciated that, he appreciated his friends trying to help him get back up from the ground, but he still found himself questioning some of their plans on how to do that. Like he was doing as he stood staring over the large ballroom as people started pouring in.

It had been Jacks plan on getting him out to proper society again, making him co-host a party, even though he still wasn’t in any particular mood to do that. Still, he supposed it was better then doing nothing, and while he knew he’d already made a fool of himself with the whole situation with his ex-fiancé, he also knew he’d feel like the bigger fool the longer he shut himself away from society. Sure, he knew the situation had reached the papers, but he wasn’t ruined, he still had looks and a decent fortune, so there would probably be some beautiful and handsome people in the crowd would happily socialise with him.

Hell, maybe he’d meet the actual love of his life out there! A feeling of hope that he thought he’d lost started sparkling in his chest, and maybe, Jack had been right.

Still, he let himself take one final deep breath, reached into his vest to touch the old handkerchief from his mom for good luck, before walking into the crowd, and making a beeline to the first pretty face he spotted, eager to start making his introductions.

It didn’t take too long for him to realise that she was not what he was looking for, but he let the conversation die naturally before expertly lending her over to someone else, and moving on. The next one wasn’t it either, nor the next one, though Arthur soon found himself not really caring, so long the conversations were interesting enough, and so long they seemed enamoured enough. He felt a little bad leaving them afterwards, but it wasn’t like he’d made any serious signs of wishing to court any of them. It was just talk, and he considered himself to be more of a man of action when it came to courting anyways. Something the ton had been very aware of since the moment he’d entered high society.

It was around the time when the sun begun slowly creeping toward the horizon and was talking to another gentleman, as he spotted her.

While everyone in the party was happy and cheery, her look seemed to be one of gloom, her body stiff and her eyebrows tightly pushed together. She was a plump thing, yet slightly on the taller side, and holding a lacy fan up as if she was trying to hide her face from someone to the side of her. Her dress was an eye catching, frilly and lacy light blue thing with white satin gloves to match. Her dark brown hair was done up in a fancy and tight up-do, with even more lace adorning the hairpiece holding it up, her pale pink face was lightly dashed with a sweet rosy blush and her dark grey eyes looked sunken and haunted, yet also unspeakably piercing. And they were looking right at him.

It seemed to take her a moment to notice that their eyes had met, but when she did her body twitched, her frown deepened and she adverted her eyes, shifting the fan in front of her.

Arthur blinked a little, making his company turn his head to see where he was looking.

“Oh! The Scandinavian lady is here as well I see!” He remarked, before looking over at Arthur again. “Have her ‘unique charm’ caught your interest Lord Pendragon?”

“Unique charm?” Arthur asked him, the words certainly was something that could possibly describe her, but the tone he was using made it seem like there was something more to it.

The man laughed a little.

“It’s what her sister has been saying, the poor woman’s here with her husband desperately trying to get her younger sister wed,” he shifted his gaze over to someone standing a bit to the side of the woman with the haunted grey eyes, another lady, taller, lighter hair, slimmer, and with a pair of icy blue eyes. Though if he squinted he was able to make out a slight resemblance in the set of their faces. “They say that she must have done poorly at the marriage market back home,” Arthurs company continued “so they came to see if they’d have better luck here by playing up her as a unique foreign beauty.”

“I suppose she hasn’t had any better luck here?” Arthur asked, looking at the two of them, and honestly feeling sorry for the both of them, especially the grey eyed woman, no wonder her eyes looked so haunted. Despite her sunken look he would probably place her around the 23-24 age range, maybe only one year his junior, and there she was, having traveled over the sea for another opportunity to be wed, yet seemingly no one was approaching her.

“God no!” His company said, “well, there was those poor fools who tried at first, but the girl dances with two left feet, and is stiff as a board to boot.” He let out a small huff, almost as if he was talking from experience, “and talking to her is a whole other matter. She seems to be curt to a fault, and if she’s not being confused over whatever you said, she might just fully ignore every single word said to her in place of staring at an empty spot on the wall.” He took a sip from his champaign and turned back fully to Arthur, “Everyone has begun to really understand why she did bad in her home county, even with an impressive dowry and a decent singing voice.”

Arthur threw another look at the odd woman, despite her weight she would have probably appeared as charming and at the very least approachable, were it not for the glare in her eyes and the frown etched onto her face. He wondered if that look meant that she’d already given up getting a husband and resigned herself to spinsterhood.

Eh, whatever the case was he doubted he should bother her, it hardly looked like she wanted anyone to talk to her anyway.

He was just about to return to the earlier conversation with the gentleman as he noticed her move from her spot in the corner of his eye, and as he flicked his gaze to her he saw her cautiously glance towards her sister, before slinking through one of the doors to the side of the ballroom.

His attention was once more fully on her, what was she doing?

He excused himself from the conversation and moved towards where she had snuck away. It was one of the doors leading out to the private part of the house, but which the servants would often use. The door was usually kept unlocked for that reason, plus it wasn’t like the private part of the house it led to had anything extremely valuable, though Merlin would often argue for keeping the door to the dusty old library locked at least.

And maybe Merlin was right in some regard, because as Arthur entered the hallway and the door closed behind him, shutting out the noise of the ballroom, he could swear he heard soft careful footsteps inside that very room.

What was she doing? Why would she have left her chaperone for the old library of all places?

He walked up to the door and pushed it open as silently as he could, peaking inside after her.

She was standing by one of the big old bookshelves, an leather bound book open in her ungloved hands, the gloves laying discarded on one of the shelves. She had lost a little bit of the tension in her shoulders, and as she turned the page in the book something in her eyes glistened captivatingly as if looking at something promising, her lips twitching into an intrigued smile.

Before Arthur knew it he had pushed open the door to the library and let himself in, carefully trying to close the door quietly, not wanting to disturb the sight before him. The door closed with a faint click, and the woman immediately went rigid, her intense gaze snapping towards him.

They stood there for a moment, just staring at each other, until Arthur returned to his senses and pulled the most disarming smile he could muster.

“Ah, sorry m’lady, didn’t mean to startle you-“ he began but was cut off by the lady snapping the book shut and hurriedly pushing it back into the bookshelf.

“Got lost,” she said in a chipped tone, “someone’s probably looking for me.” She pulled on her gloves, fumbling with them a little before doing so, and then grimaced slightly as she seemed to impulsively scratch at the lace on the edge of her dresses arms.

“Oh,” Arthur said, “hold on,” he took a step closer, lifting his hands to show he meant no harm, only for her to stagger away from, temporarily shocking him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He then said gently, “I just wanted to see why you’d want to leave the party for this boring place.”

Her gaze flickered all over the place, he’d clearly not managed to convince her of his intentions, maybe he should not move any closer for the time being.

“There is a garden outside if you needed some fresh air, for example,” he stayed in place as he continued talking, “I would be a real bad host if someone thinks this place-“ he let out a small chuckle, but didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before she cut him off.

“You’re the host?” She looked even more alarmed then before, “I wasn’t stealing anything.”

“Wasn’t implying that!” He said in surprise, “If you came here to steal I’d expect you to go for something that wasn’t a dusty book.” He’d intended that to be a joke, but instead of laughing she simply tilted her head at him and frowned.

“It’s,” she glanced over at the book in the bookshelf, lifting a finger to trace against it’s spine as she read out loud, “Elements of Chemistry in a New Systematic Order containing All the Modern Discoveries, by Antoine Lavoisier, but translated by Robert Kerr I believe,” she shifted her gaze towards him meaningfully, “it compiles a lot of interesting theories, I would not call it just a dusty old book. Even if there are books that are more interesting in regards to narrative aspects, such as fiction.” She threw a glance at it again, “...though this book does dismiss things like atoms, which is… well something people still can’t really agree on really.”

“…You went in here to read a book about, uh, that sort of thing?” Now it was Arthur’s turn to tilt his head, was she one of those- what did they call them - Bluestockings? She didn’t look what he had expected one of those women to look like, well, at least not fashion wise. While he knew he hardly had a good grasp on woman’s fashion himself, the woman before him was dressed like a beautiful diamond, like someone had put some real effort in bringing out the most of her. Except maybe that shine that had been in her eyes a few moments ago. She was definitely not dressed in the sort of unremarkable and dull clothes he’d imagine when he thought of a bluestocking. “Was the party boring you that much?” He laughed a little.

She scrunched up her face, and made a vague gesture towards the door.

“Loud.” She paused a little, a flash of embarrassment crossing her face, “it is very loud, out there, and,” she glanced once more at the bookshelf, her fingers brushing against the spines of the books in it. “I like books.” She looked like she was about to say something more, but seemed to stop herself.

“…Loud?” Arthur repeated.

“Hard to think, and hear.” She said, a hint of hesitation in her face.

“It is-?”

The door to the library suddenly burst open, and in walked a tall blonde man, with a cold pair of baby blue eyes.

“Harriet Frodesdotter! Vad i hel-“ the man froze as he spotted Arthur, “Lord Pendragon.” His eyes gazed from Arthur to the woman and back to him. “Might I ask what you’re doing here with my sister-in-law?” He squinted at the woman for a moment, “She hasn’t done anything to disturb you has she?”

The woman seemed to somehow get even more rigid then before, her eyes darting all over the room except for where the blond man was standing, and her hands feverishly scratching at the edge of her collarbone.

“Ah no,” Arthur turned towards the man, “There’s no problem, was just curious about what a girl like her was doing alone.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to ask.” The man said coldly, “Harriet! You’re worrying your sister, stop that scratching at once, and get back to the ballroom.”

Once more the woman’s, Harriet’s, expression turned into a deep haunted frown as her hand dropped from her collarbone, clearly not comfortable with the idea of leaving the library.

“Hold on.” Arthur stepped towards the man, “She just told me that it was so loud out there for her that she couldn’t think, probably better for her to take a moment.”

“Oh, she told you that did she.” The man spoke coldly, taking a step forward himself, “The girl’s just overreacting, and there’s more pressing matters at hand then her thinking something is loud, we came here to get her married and by god so she will.” He started to try to move around Arthur, but Arthur stepped in front of him.

“There’s hardly a rush, the season’s still in full swing last time I looked, plus she’d probably have an easier time getting a husband if she can actually understand what other people are saying.” He argued back.

“Lord Pendragon.” The man said sharply, “Your worry about my sister-in-law is noted, but unless you’re planning to propose to her yourself this instant I suggest that you stay out of how I find her a husband.” He then elbowed past him and started dragging Harriet out of the room, “I’m sure you’d understand if she was your responsibility.”

Something tightened in Arthur’s chest as he watched the man pull at Harriet’s arm, making her wince, but in a way that made it seem like she was trying to hide it. The moment however seemed to made the arm of her dress slide up. And then, as the man tried to pull her past him Arthur saw it. The circle of red irritated skin around her upper arm, which also appeared around the edge of her collar, just around where she has been scratching, and all around the fancy detailed lace.

There was something not right with this, he could feel it in his gut, and his gut told him he had to do something to stop whatever was going on, so he once more stepped in front of the man and said the first thing that came to his mind.

“What if I am interested in her hand for marriage? Will you let her stay here with me then?” It was not his most thought out plan. His friends had told him his plans had the tendency to be like that. He on the other hand liked to think he thought well on his feet.

The man stopped and looked at Arthur.

“If you’re so interested in her hand, how come you haven’t asked her for a dance?” He scrutinised.

“A dance?” Arthur asked, he supposed that was reasonable, a man courting a lady was somewhat expected to share a dance with said lady. He glanced at Harriet, who was looking at him with a puzzled expression, like she was trying to figure him out. She didn’t look as uncomfortable as she’d been at the dance floor, so maybe she could still handle one single dance.

“Well,” He looked back to the man, “How about I ask for a dance with her now? Can I take her to a quieter place after that?”

“...I suppose.” The man finally relented, “but I hope you understand that a shut off place like this library is not acceptable, even if you believe her, issues. And she needs a chaperone, the last thing we need now is a scandal.”

“Loud and clear.” Arthur answered, being able to think of a fair share of other quiet places to bring her after the dance. He looked back at Harriet who’s eyes had just gone wide, her lips, soft and sweet looking, slightly parted.

You know what, this was actually a great plan, he thought to himself as he walked around the man and held out his hand to her.

“Well then, Miss Frodesdotter,” He said in the most charming tone he could muster, “Care for a dance? Just one and I’ll sweep you away from the noise again?”

Just like before his attempts to charm fell short as her face turned cautious, her eyebrows tightened in thought. She looked like she was about to say something, but before she could her brother-in-law pulled the arm of hers he was still holding towards Arthur so it landed in his outstretched hand. She somehow got even more tense then before, and Arthur was torn between shooting a glare at the man, or trying to calm her.

“Of course she will.” The man said sharply, before finally letting go of his tight grip on her arm. He turned towards the door again. “Now let’s go.”

Arthur watched the man move away from Harriet, glaring holes in his back, before turning to gaze into her once more haunted and disconcerting eyes. He lifted her stiff arm up to his lips and brushed them against her knuckles, worried that a full blown kiss would shatter her as she stood now.

“Just one dance.” he repeated to her. “I promise.”

She just nodded.

“Just one would be the best for us both.” She muttered in a flat tone, and followed by his side as they returned to the dance floor.

———

Harriet wanted to bite something. She often did nowadays. It wasn’t a rational urge, she knew that, especially when it made her want to bite down on the metal candelabra in her hotel room, or her horrid lacy fan. Sometimes however, she’d just feel, too much, and when your movements were restricted to the demure, gentle and unassuming moments expected of a lady, you would feel the urge to bite. Not that biting was something a gentlewoman, or any person for that matter, was supposed to do either, but it didn’t seem like the urge had quite understood that.

She flinched as she stepped into the loud ballroom once more, her hand involuntary squeezing the arm of the large man, the host of the party, Lord something something Pendragon. He looked down at her with a soft smile, placed a hand on her hand and gently squeezed her back.

“You alright?” He asked, though it took her a moment to make it out and process it.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She muttered back, glancing down at the floor as his hand dropped from hers, there was a fresh stain from what looked like champaign a few feet away from them and she let her eyes rest on it as she thought to herself.

She wasn’t sure what his aim was, but she was pretty sure it couldn’t be trusted, why else would he ask her for a dance. Surely if he was looking for a wife, or even just a girl to entertain himself with, he’d be looking somewhere else, someone who wasn’t a ghastly shambling excuse for a human person. Not that being a ghastly shambling excuse for a human being was a bad thing mind you, Harriet had started taking a silent sort of pride in appearing unseemly to others, carefully working against her sisters attempts at making her presentable, but it wasn’t something anyone but her seemed to enjoy very much. She definitely doubted a stupidly large and handsome (that is he looked like a person that people would find handsome) man like him would be the one exception.

Maybe he actually was mad over her sneaking into his library? And he was planning to humiliate her in front of everyone else, make her an example like the hanged pirates by ports? Or maybe he was simply making fun of her for being caught with her eyes turned in his direction.

Well, he was already pulling her onto the dance floor, so she doubted she really could do anything to escape now. Just in case she threw a quick glance to the people mingling, and quickly saw her brother-in-law Ragnar, and her sister Signe watching her like hawks. She sighed and turned back to Lord Pendragon who was now facing her, holding his now free arms out expectantly, clearly waiting for her to enter his embrace for what seemed to be a waltz. She hated waltzing, but she supposed it wasn’t the worst type of dance she had had to deal with so far (she silently cursed whomever decided that a quadrille had to be a staple of every ball), and she just had to accept her fate at this point.

Let’s just get this over with, she repeated to herself. She stepped forward and was immediately engulfed by Lord Pendragon's ridiculously thick arm, pressing her against his chest.

She had to physically fight herself not to immediately struggle and fight against his hold. She felt trapped, like she was being suffocated, like there was a monster above her about to bite her head off if she didn’t get free right away.

She hated this she hated this she hated this she hated this she hated this she hated this she hated this she hated this

His hold on her loosened, and Harriet felt as if a rush of air had returned to her lungs, at least for a moment. It was then she realised that people had already started moving around her, but he hadn’t yet, confusedly she looked up at him and met eyes full of confused concern. His eyes then lifted to somewhere above her, and his expression turned into one of determination.

He held her waist steadily with his hand, but kept her at a slight and respectful distance.

“Sorry, is this alright?” He asked her softly, looking faintly embarrassed.

It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it wasn’t the worst, so she placed her left hand in his and her right on his shoulder. Taking a hold of her senses a final time she then nodded and he started leading her in a slow waltz. Whatever game he was playing, she wasn’t sure if she liked it, many people had pretended to care for her comfort before, only to either get very upset with her when she declined them anything afterwards, and/or mock her behind her back for being so trusting and gullible, and presumably absolutely fawning over them.

Well she wasn’t going to fawn for this man that was for sure, the moment she got her chance she would slip away from him, making it clear that pity wasn’t something that would make her swoon for his and his friends amusement.

As they continued dancing Harriet did her best to simply focus on taking one step at the time, trying to pick out the tempo of the song from the rest of the noise in the room. She was sometimes able to focus on one noise specifically if she tried really hard to, or alternatively if her brain decided that the noise was interesting enough, which usually tended to happen at random and was rarely anything she had any control over. This seemed to be one of those latter days, as the music stayed faint and one with the noise, meaning she had to mostly intuit the rhythm from the way Lord Pendragon was moving.

One, two-three. One, two-three. One, two-three. She thought to herself as she moved her feet, doing what she could to follow his lead, and gripping his shoulder tighter as she occasionally stumbled. After only a few minutes she could feel the edge of fatigue, but she gritted her teeth, focused on the rhythm in her head, and kept moving. One, two-three. One, two-three. One, two-three.

After what felt like a painful eternity he suddenly came to a stop, once more making her stumble, and for a brief moment she wondered if he was going to let her fall for comedic effect. Was that his plan all along?

But such a thing didn’t happen, instead his grip on her hand and waist grew tighter in an attempt to steady her, and a few words left his mouth. What words exactly Harriet wasn’t sure, the noise around her closing in more as the rhythm in her mind faded away.

“I’m fine.” She still said, making a quick assumption that he probably had made some sort of remark on her almost falling. Looking up at his face she seemed to be correct, as his eyes was once more looking at her with serious concern.

He then said something else, of which Harriet only could make out a faint “-ve you“.

“…What?” She said after failing to figure out what on earth the rest of the sentence could have been, which she was frankly a bit to exhausted to figure out anyway. “I told you,” she let go of his shoulder and waved her arm around, “noise.”

Lord Pendragon blinked in surprise, saying something else which Harriet assumed was ‘that noisy?’, judging by the movement of his mouth an facial expressions. She just nodded in response, which Lord Pendragon mirrored before lifting his gaze to rake over the room. His eyes seemed to finally find what he was looking for, and he made a gesture with his head which seemed to mean ‘let’s go’.

Remembering what Lord Pendragon had said before the dance Harriet hesitantly followed his lead, it was not like she had any other choice really, she did want to get out of the cramped and loud room, and he was also leading her by her hand, not yet having let go of it from the dance.

They left the ballroom through a white door with large glass windows and entered into a sprawling garden. There was some people there already, but much fewer and far in between, and it was much less noisier. Harriet felt almost as if some weight had lifted from her shoulder, and felt almost giddy as the gravel of the gardens footpath crunched under her shoes. She’d almost temporarily forgotten about the large man beside her until Lord Pendragon spoke to her with his head way to close to her ear.

“Feelin’ better now Miss Frodesdotter?”

She immediately stilled and her giddiness faded. Right. He was still here, which meant she still had to be on guard. There had to be some secret agenda behind this, and the fondness of his tone only helped to aid her suspicions.

Steeling herself, she turned to look at him, and did not like what she saw. Or, to be exact, she liked what she saw and hated that she felt that way.

He was looking at her with gentle and fond eyes to match his tone, even worse, his lips was pulled into a sweet and threateningly sincere smile, that made her chest tighten.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She said curtly, and then after a moment of contemplation she added, “thank you.” Avoiding common curtesy would do her no good at the moment.

She took a step forward and slipped her hand out of his loosened grasp, putting distance between her and Lord Pendragon. You’d be surprised how much ill will and lack of even the most basic of respect could be hidden behind a smile, or hell behind a declaration of affection. And such a smile that Lord Pendragon was pulling… who knew what was behind it. Trusting her experience, it was probably nothing good.

So she turned from him and begun walking away down the path.

“You can leave me now.” She said, feeling the wind brush against her skin, making a happy feeling fill her body again. Flexing her fingers and fiddling with her fan she restrained the urge to rush into the greenery like a wild creature, maybe scampering up a tree or scuttling into one of the hedges. All things that sounded good and exhilarating in theory, but which she knew would definitely leave marks on her dress that Signe and Ragnar no doubt wouldn’t respond kindly to. And while they rarely ever responded to things she did in a way that she enjoyed, be it Signe’s incessant babying and patronising or Ragnar’s ‘tough-love’, she doubted drawing more of their ire like this would improve anything in the long term.

“You sure?” Lord Pendragon’s voice came up beside her again, seemingly insisting to make himself more of a nuisance, “It‘s not especially proper for me as a host to leave a guest without making sure they’re enjoying themselves to the fullest.” He added a smile evident in his voice, only serving to put her once more on edge, “How about I show you around? It’s my family’s garden, so I know my way around here and the best spots to visit.”

Harriet looked at him just as he extended his arm to her, smiling down at her in a way that struck her as oddly silly, maybe boyish?

“Do you do this to every guest?” She asked sceptically, “that seems time-consuming, you don’t have to do that with me.”

Lord pendragon cocked his head to the side, but didn’t drop his offering arm.

“Every guest? Nah,” he leaned towards her a little, “just the ones that seem to be in need of some accommodations, and breathing room, especially from stuffy relatives.” His voice came out surprisingly hushed and he raised his arm a little bit more.

…So he was playing the ‘knight in shining armour’ angle was he?

Throwing a glance at the garden she briefly reconsidered her previous thought about rushing into the grass, but as her eyes skimmed the door back to the ballroom she once more locked eyes with her sister standing by the outside of the door with her husband. Signe’s lips curled into a smile and she subtly nodded her head toward Lord Pendragon, making her thoughts on the situation very clear.

Feeling another hope for a brief reprieve be harshly tugged from her fingers Harriet sighed and accepted Lord Pendragon's arm.

“Fine,” she turned her head towards him, seemingly in synch with him as he look back at her from her sister. So he’d seen it too. No matter, she let her eyes steady on his face, more specifically his eyebrows which were pretty large and bushy. “But then you can leave me be.” She wasn’t sure why she made it a point to say that, it wasn’t like anyone before had really cared for her thoughts on these sorts of matters…but not saying anything would just make her feel weak, and she hated feeling weak.

For a moment he looked like he was figuring something out in his head, his brows pressed together in concentration, but then his face spread into a look of confident determination, and he straightened his back.

“Alright then Miss Frodesdotter.” he smiled at her, as he began leading her down the path. “As you wish.”

As they begun their walk Ragnar followed up behind them like a stalking shadow, like he always did. That was his idea of chaperoning, walking behind her and glaring at the back of her neck, making sure she stayed in line. Though she supposed he was also making sure that Lord Pendragon stayed in line.

They walked for a few minutes in silence, walking past the occasional groups that had also made an escape into the garden. Even the occasional couple appeared, whomst she assumed where already married, judging by how both Ragnar and Lord Pendragon did nothing but politely nod at them as they passed.

It was unclear why nobody was talking, and Harriet wasn’t sure if she should be worried or grateful. Honestly, she mostly leaned towards quiet frustration. Sure she usually enjoyed herself some piece and quiet, but she greatly preferred it without the surveillance. If anything the quiet made her more attentive to the noise around her, the sound of footsteps, distant talking, birds, flowing water…

Wait.

Flowing water?

She let go of Lord Pendragon's arm the moment she lifted her gaze and spotted the fountain. Dropping any other previous train of thought as she hurried up to it.

She liked fountains, they were an fascinating mix of engineering and artistic design, when she was younger she’d once spent a whole month (or was it two?), reading every book on them that she could get her hands on (Though most of the time she’d been stuck to looking at the images, because they were in languages she hadn’t been taught to read).

Studying the fountain, it looked like it was a fairly simple one about three meters tall and utilising a combination of a single jet at the top and two basins bellow it, in which the water from above would land and overflow the basins, finally reaching the small pool (she’d guess maybe 3-4 meters in diameter) beneath it. As expected for a private garden fountain it looked to be purely for decorative purposes, the basins styled with waves, and standing on top of the fountain before the jet was a hand holding up a sword, she’d guess it was made of a lighter material, maybe bronze? The lower parts appeared to be marble, and Harriet couldn’t help admire the handiwork of the pool, especially as she caught the sight of a wave pattern on the floor of the pool as well.

She leaned forward to look closer, ignoring the splatter of water against her face, wondering how they’d made the pattern look so seamless. They had to have used multiple tiles for the bottom right? Or did they carve the entire thing out of one chuck of marble? Either way the final work was amazing, and she couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to touch. She could vividly imagine taking off her glove and reaching down through the water to touch the pattern with the palm of her hand.

“I was hoping you’d like this.” The voice of Lord Pendragon quickly cut her excitement short as he came up beside her. “It’s one of my mothers recent additions.”

He wasn’t going to comment on her letting go of his arm? Huh. The dread that had suddenly spiked inside of her confusedly grew slightly smaller.

She glanced at Rangar who was standing just besides Lord Pendragon, his arm slightly lifted and brows deeply furrowed as he looked at him, not her. His hand then clenched into a first as he took a step back.

“I can see that.” Harriet answered cautiously looking back at the fountain, “It’s very nice.” She stopped the urge to drag her fingers against the edge, still feeling Ragnar’s eyes on her, but the familiar and interesting topic made the possible conversation seem a little bit more bearable. “Your mom made a good choice, the handiwork is admirable… Especially the floor.”

“The floor?” Lord Pendragon turned to look at her with a confused expression, before he leaned over and looked at the bottom of the pool. “Oh that!” He laughed with a slightly embarrassed expression on his face.

“Yes.” She nodded, “Very good craftsmanship, must have taken a long while to complete, especially out of such a hard material as marble.”

“Huh.” He said thoughtfully, “I suppose so.” He then tilted his head toward her. “You got any one of these back home?”

“One of these?” She asked, “No I don’t think I’ve seen one with this exact design before…” she briefly searched her memory for anything similar back home, “but, I suppose the one in my family’s garden also uses a basin, but only one, and two jets.”

“Oh?” He said, “how’s the craftsmanship on that one then?”

“Good I think?” She tried her best to think back to the fountain, scratching the corner of her collarbone at the infernal lace. “I haven’t been allowed to see it up close since I was a child so I can’t really say, but it looked well made from the distance.”

Lord Pendragon's eyes widened a little and Ragnar cleared his throat loudly with obvious displeasure.

Shifting her gaze down she dropped her hand and stared at the edge of the pool, silent and refusing to look either of them in their eyes. She’d probably said too much, and she wasn’t in the mood to see more of Ragnar’s cold anger or the pity she risked seeing in Lord Pendragon's.

The only noise around them was once more the distant chatter of other guests, chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves on the hedges.

At last the silence was broken by Lord Pendragon again, his tone unbelievably soft.

“I think we should maybe go to the next stop on our tour.”

Surprised, but also happy that she didn’t have to be the one shifting the topic, Harriet nodded and took his arm as he offered it.

“My apologies Lord Pendragon,” she said to him, hoping that it would suffice, because she wasn’t sure what else she could add.

“No problem,” he smiled at her gently, though he seemed to throw small angry glances at Ragnar, as they walked away from the fountain with him in tow.

And so they continued walking through the garden, Lord Pendragon showing her everything from paths gilded by tall colourful tulips on both sides, to statues commissioned from local artists. The whole time he seemed to be trying to coax longer conversations out of her, to which she found herself only being able to give short, simple, and safe responses. Ragnar had only been slightly deterred by Lord Pendragon's previous show of chivalry, meaning that while he’d yet to make another move at grabbing her, he’d doubled down on silently and critically scrutinising her every move. She swore there had to be holes in the back of her neck by now from how he glared at her, his eyes promising swift punishment for every moment she stepped out of line.

It was suffocating, and she silently cursed Lord Pendragon for even finding her in the library in the first place. At least in the ballroom she could find a corner where she could blend in with the wallpaper, but here she was as exposed as a large rock atop a plain hill.

The walk seemed to reach it’s crescendo as the sky had darkened and they walked through an opening of a large hedgerow, entering what seemed to be the centrepiece of the garden. It was a large field full of colourful flowers surrounded by hedges. The middle of said field was cut in two by a thin snaking stream of trickling water, which was paired with a small peach-coloured wooden bridge that was decorated with baskets of flowers matching the ones on the ground. On the other side of the stream, and in the very centre of everything, stood a small peach-coloured gazebo.

“So,” Lord Pendragon said, leading her up to the small gazebo, “How do you like this? Pleasant and quiet right?”

“It’s…nice.” Harriet said cautiously as they entered it, it smelled amazing, the sent of freshly cut grass and flowers mixed with the cold evening air making her toes curl, but she knew she had to stay on guard. She fanned herself with her fan in an attempt to stay focused. “Is this also something chosen by her, your mother?”

“Not this time actually.” He grinned to himself as he leaned against the gazebo’s railing. “My father had this place made for her as a wedding present, she really loves flowers. And he said he wanted her to have a place where she could have a view of so many different flowers as possible.” He glanced over his shoulder with a fond expression, though there was also something faintly melancholic in his eyes as well, or at least that’s how it appeared to her. The look soon disappeared however as he looked back at her and gestured towards the view behind him with his head. “This is her favourites spot, come look.”

Letting go of his puzzling expression, she was to preoccupied with trying to not look like a fool to bother with it now anyway, she took a step towards where Lord Pendragon was standing.

Only for the tip of her shoe to hit an invisible snag on the wooden floor, which promptly turned her attempted graceful walk into a pitfull stumble. The hand gripping her fan instinctually moved to steady herself against the bench inside of the gazebo, and her feet quickly moved to stop any further descent. Her other hand, as well as her waist, was then however suddenly firmly gripped by Lord Pendragon’s absurdly large hands, and she felt her cheek lightly brush against his cravat.

“Are you alright miss?” He said in a concerned tone.

“I’m fine.” She said, her voice coming out a bit more roughly then she had intended. She usually was better at saving herself from embarrassing tumbles like this, she’d had to learn to do so unless she wanted even more ridicule for her lack of grace, yet here she was, stumbling face first into a man’s chest.

Ragnar cleared his throat loudly again, though Lord Pendragon seemed to ignore him as he helped her up onto her feet again. Only letting go of her and turning to Ragnar when he seemed sure that she was alright.

“It’s getting late,” Ragnar said pointedly, flipping open his pocket-watch, “about time for us to leave, thank you for your company, Lord Pendragon.” He said the man’s name in an detached tone.

“Oh… it’s been an pleasure,” Lord Pendragon said as if he’d completely forgotten how late it was and his fist clenched a little, then he looked straight at her, “I hope I’ll be able to see you again soon?”

“She will be at the very next big ball,” Ragnar answered before her, “if you want to see her before that you will have to settle for a short visitation at the hotel we’re staying at at the moment.” He snapped the pocket-watch closed. “Now let’s go Harriet.” He reached forward to grab a hold of her wrist, making her involuntary flinch. His hands where almost just as her sisters, tight and cold.

“Allow me to lead Miss Frodesdotter back to the ballroom.” Lord Pendragon stepped forward, threatening to cut off Ragnar’s reach to her, making him stop. He eyed Lord Pendragon suspiciously, but then took a step back and gave him a small nod.

“Fine then.” He said simply, and then turned to walk towards the exit to the gazebo, making sure to throw looks back at them as he did. Ever so watchful.

Just wanting everything to be over Harriet accepted Lord Pendragon’s arm and let him lead her down after her brother in law. As they walked however she felt something gently touch her hand, and as she looked up at Lord Pendragon he looked at her with such a serious gaze it almost took her aback for a moment. Then he subtly leaned towards her, and muttered something to her so softly that she at first couldn’t make it out.

“Don’t worry, I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

Her instincts both wanted her to doubt his words, but was also concerned over that he might be serious. She knew he was playing the hero, but she supposed the question was how long he was going to keep it up before he grew too bored or frustrated with her. Her preference was for the ones that decided to drop her the moment she got out of their sight, they were only quick nuisances that she could easily brush off. The ones that kept going was so much worse.

Trying not to dwell on the memories she broke the eye contact with him and looked at the ground instead. Not entertaining his words as they walked back in silence.

They had yet to exit the garden properly as her sister appeared and gracefully hurried up to them.

“Your Lordship,” She greeted Lord Pendragon with a demure curtesy, “I do not believe we have been properly introduced, but I see that you have taken to my dear sister.” She smiled politely at him as Ragnar made a quick introduction for them, and then excused himself to go look for a coach back to the hotel. Leaving his wife to immediately begin interrogating Lord Pendragon, like she did to everyone else that she read as having an interest in Harriet. Though usually it happened before she’d force Harriet and the potential suitor together, and they often involved Signe trying subtly to convince them to give Harriet a chance.

It was such a normal occurrence that Harriet had learned to tune out most of it, even the switch to English only severed as a minute change. It involved subtle and polite questions prodding at his social standing, his finances, possible previous scandals, and then the questions pertaining to how he viewed Harriet, looking out after if he understood what she was in need of, at least according to her.

Lord Pendragon seemed to be in the middle of saying something about protection and such, before his name was urgently called from the ballroom. Yelling back an affirmative he said his goodbyes, pressing a gentle kiss on the back of Harriets hand, and then hurried inside.

“A Lord huh?” Her sister hummed as she stepped closer to Harriet, “With the title of Marquess Pendragon, not too bad.”

Harriet just huffed in response and unconsciously reached to scratch her arm, only to receive a firm smack on her hand from her sister.

“I’ve told you not to do that in public,” she chided a playfully stern look on her face, and which then broke out into a wide smile, “oh! I can’t stay mad at you! Come here!” She said in the same voice you’d use when speaking to a baby and dragged her into a hug.

It was tight. So horribly tight. Harriets arms and legs twitched as her body wanted to flee, but her mind knew she wasn’t allowed to make a scene. Death chanted in her mind like a mantra, and then after pressing a kiss on the top of Harriets head, leaving a cold, wet and uncomfortable feeling after it, her sister finally let her go.

She was still twitching, and still trying to control her breathing.

“Always so fuzzy,” her sister shook her head.

Harriet gripped for the fan, the stupid lacy, but socially acceptable fan that she could mess with without derision, she should have it hanging around her wrist, why wasn’t it around her wr-

Gazebo. Bench.

Oh no.

Wait, oh yes.

“I forgot my fan inside of the garden,” she lifted her arms to indicate the fan wasn’t where it was supposed to be for her sister, “I’ll run back and get it.” and before her sister could protest, Harriet had sprinted off for the temporary freedom in the garden. A temporary yet true freedom.

The shadows had gotten even more darker, and more quiet when she once more was inside of the shielding walls of the gardens many hedges, only making it seem more mysterious and even otherworldly, as if she could make a turn and run into a troll or fae. She dried her forehead with her handkerchief with great relief, and after folding it so the wet part was perfectly quarantined and putting it back in her bag, she picked up her speed. The gravel crunched against her shoes, the night wind flowed against her face, and she wondered briefly of what sort of stories about magical creatures they told children here in England, and did the stories tell of them living in garden such as this one.

It took restraint to not immediately try to tear of her headdress as she ran deeper into the garden, but she knew very well that she would only make an uncomfortable mess of her hair if she tried, so she let it be. As she ran she shortcut over the large grass fields and skipped over a patch of flowers, and her legs even did a few skips as she ran on the paths again, her body and mind relishing in the feeling of finally being able to let out the energy that she had pent up inside of her the whole day. She spun and danced to a tune that she knew was only in her mind, swinging her arms around as if they were bladed weapons cutting down imaginary foes. This didn’t last forever though, the stowaway energy from the day could only do so much to keep her already-exhausted-from-the-long-day body going like this, and she soon mellowed out. Which was probably for the best considering she knew it could only be a matter of time before her running and skipping resulted in her ruining her appearance and thus upsetting her sister.

So she took a long breath, the cold night air in the garden as pleasant as ever, and let herself walk the rest of the way towards the gazebo, tracing back the way she had walked with Lord Pendragon and her brother-in-law back to the ballroom before. She savoured the lone walk, her body having almost shaken the tenseness it had before and was now just letting her be, her. Sure there was a distinct lack of books or any of the chemist tools she would longingly glance at when they were pictured in a book or journal. And the path she took didn’t feature any fountains or anything else that was of specific interest to her. But even so there was no demands for posture or elegance, no unspoken rules about how to act or how to be. There was just her, the stars, the flora around her and the countless insects. And they didn’t care about how she was different and wrong, about her scratching, or unfitting interest, or that she couldn’t stand dancing, or that her natural walk was something her governess had once compared to that of a ‘rampaging cow’.

They didn’t care, and the people that did wasn’t around to care, she was free.

That final thought made another burst of giddiness flow up inside of her as she turned onto a part of the path surrounded by long trees and bushes, and practically scampered through it from the sudden bust of energy the feeling brought with it. As she came out of the trees however, she realised she was but one turn away from the entrance in the hedge that surrounded the field with the gazebo, and a slight feeling of melancholy came over her.

Soon she would have to turn back from where she’d came, and though she knew that this was temporary, everything was, she supposed she wished these happy moments lasted longer and happened more often then they did. Or that they wouldn't cost her as they did.

Still, she had time left, so she better savour it as it lasted.

In an attempt to summon back the happy feeling from before, she scampered around the corner of the hedge that stood parallel to the one surrounding the field, pondering that she might have the time to take the longer way back past the fountain since she now could short cut a little over the grass.

Then she lifted her head and saw someone walking out of the opening in the hedge.

Lord Arthur Pendragon, his hair no longer as slickly combed down as it had been before, and one of his hands preoccupied with buttoning a button on his waistcoat, the other grasping a fan, as he lifted his head and looked at her with eyes wide in surprise.

And then he smiled at her boyishly, successfully buttoned the waistcoat and lifted his hand in greeting, as if he wasn’t some sort of accursed spectre that insisted on making her day more troublesome and complicated then it had any right to be.

“Miss Frodesdotter!”

Harriets spine snapped straight so fast that she could have sworn it made a worrying clicking noise, and her arms straighten like sticks to the side of her body. She spun back around the corner and stared at the first thing her eyes caught, which was a small bench, as her mind raised.

He’d seen her.

He’d seen her scampering like a creature.

Dear god if he wasn’t going to turn around and treat her like an utter dimwit before he sure was going to now. What had she been thinking!

Then again how was she supposed to know he was going to be here! Hadn’t he gone inside of the estate last time she saw him?!

Her thoughts raced and she tried her best to control her breathing.

Maybe, maybe this was good, now he’d loose interest for sure... Or maybe he was going to tell all his friends and before she’d know it the whole of England would know and her family would be furious with her and-

Something warm touched her elbow making her involuntary jolt.

“Miss Frodesdotter?” Lord Pendragon asked her softly, unreasonably close to her, but thankfully not enough to suffocate her. He looked at her with a look of clear concern as he nervously pushed his hair back into place, “is everything alright?” he lifted his gaze and looked towards the direction of his mansion, his eyes hardening, “did that knobhead of an in-law do something to you?”

Somehow the surprise at hearing him, a somewhat distinguished gentleman, seemingly swear in-front of her threw her for such a loop that her thoughts immediately came to a screeching halt. Did he also just forget himself? Knobhead? She had to remember that one for future use. Either way it was just what she needed to get her head back in place.

“Oh- no, Lord Pendragon.” She said to him, taking a small step back, “I seemed to have misplaced my fan so I came back to find it, if that’s alright.”

A small grin quickly spread across Lord Pendragon's face.

“Your fan you say? You mean,” He lifted the fan he was holding in his hand up to her with a small bow and flourish, “this fan?”

It was indeed her fan.

“I went back to check something for my mum, and I saw it resting on the railing.” He said casually with a small shrug of his shoulders. “I wasn’t expecting to be seen by people before I saw it, so I apologise for, my uh, appearance.”

“I… see, thank you.” She said accepting the fan, trying not to twitch to noticeably as their fingers brushed against each other. Wasn’t planning to be seen? Maybe he took some hidden way inside of the garden if that was the case, that would account for his sudden appearance.

“No problem,” he made a dismissing wave with his arm, the grin on his face getting a bit wider, “this is actually good timing, I was hoping to talk with you, you know without your stuffy relatives lurking about.” He took a small step closer to her.

“…Really?” She said, immediately on edge, “Talking all alone? That’s… Is this a normal thing you… hope for, My Lord?”

He seemed to think about that for a moment, before his smile softened.

“Nah, only do it with pretty ladies in need of rescue like you.” He added a small wink at the end of the sentence.

“…In need of rescue.” She repeated back to him blankly, gripping her fan in her hand as she took a step away from him. “I think you’re mistaken, I don’t need rescue.” At least not by you.

“Really?” Arthur shot her a sceptical look, “I saw the way that bugger was handling you back there, that isn’t right.” He took another step toward her, “I’m not a fan of the strong hurting the weak,” he reached out his hand to gently brush her cheek as he looked at her with a serious gaze, “and something tells me that I’ve only seen half of it.” He straightened his back and shot her a confident grin, “So that’s why I, Lord Arthur Pendragon, shall save you.”

Out of her experiences with wannabe heroes, she was pretty sure this was the first one to actually outright proclaim himself her rescuer. All the alarm bells was going on in her head, and something just snapped in her. She was just so sick and tired, of everything, of her family, of her brother-in-law and sister never leaving her be, the suitors whom either looked at her with disgust, amusement or pity. And now this!

She shoved at his chest, hard, catching him off guard, and pushing him onto the bench on the other side of the small path. He blinked in confusion and tried to get up again, but Harriet swung her right leg up, slammed it down on the bench just by his left knee, and then clamped her left hand down on his shoulder, forcing him to stay put by sheer force of will. Leaning over, she brought up her fan and held it like a dagger to his chin, tilting it up so she could look straight into his eyes. Many governesses had criticised her before for having an unnerving gaze, but she was going to use that to her advantage. He had already seen her act like a child and make a fool out of herself so who even cared anymore! She was going to make sure that whatever his interest in her was, whether it was to soothe his own ego or to gain something from her, he’d loose it soon. She was going to put it out like one put out a burning matchstick with one’s fingers, quickly and efficiently.

“I don’t need your damn pity.” She growled at him through clenched teeth.

———

Arthur had never felt more attracted to someone in his entire life.

Okay, maybe that was overstating it a little bit, he had felt pretty intensely attracted towards others to a similar degree before, but that never made it feel less intense when it happened. His heart was almost beating out of his chest as he looked up at the now deathly sharp eyes of Miss Harriet Frodesdotter. She looked furious, and he knew in the back of his head that it wasn’t a good thing, but his chest would not stop fluttering.

It wasn’t just her eyes, it was also her sweet looking lips that now was pulled into a fierce snarl, and her voice which had deepened similarly as it had after she’d stumbled in the gazebo. He couldn’t put a finger on why it was, but it was so strangely entrancing.

Had she been hiding this from everyone? This demeanour, this voice? In the very same way she hid the odd yet beautiful smile that spread across her face when she looked at that book in the library or looked at the fountain? Or was it that she wasn’t able to show it to anyone, due to how her relatives treated her? Did that mean, he was the only one to see those sides of hers? The sides hidden beneath those deep and haunted eyes that stared at him from the other side of the ballroom. The very same eyes that could spark with joy and-

“Are you even listening to me!?” Harriets face grew closer to his, their noses touching. “I. Am. Not. Your. Charity. Case!” She hissed at him, as if she wanted to yell to the high heaven, but couldn’t allow anyone but him to hear her outburst. “I don’t need any of your heroics! And I refuse to be a catalyst for making you feel good about yourself! Take your pity and-!” The hand on his shoulder twitched, and then said a few words in a language that he couldn’t understand.

“What?”

“ASS!” She exclaimed through her teeth, as if she finally realised what word she was looking for, “shoot it up your ass!”

“Will do ma’am.” He said instinctually, it had been a long while since someone ever had had the gall to speak to him that way, and it was both refreshing and vaguely nostalgic at the same time. But then it finally clicked what she was saying to him. “Wait, pity?”

“Yes! Pity.” She said her lips tight, “Don’t look so surprised, I’ve dealt with others of your ilk before, and I’ve had enough of it! I’ve had enough of all of this!”

“But, I don’t pity you!?”

Harsh cackling left her mouth, and the fan flipped so it’s side was held to his throat, pressing against his Adam’s apple.

“You expect me to believe that?” She stared straight into his eyes, her eyes thrown into deep shadows from her furrowed brows and wild with distrust and anger to a frankly frightening degree. “It’s always pity with you people! Always! You people look at me and just see a sad little dimwitted girl who can’t seem to get any attention that is positive, and who is unreasonably fuzzy, clumsy, and air-headed, and not to mention hideous to look at. And, you pity me, talk to me as if I’m a dog unaware of it’s abusive owners treatment, and expect me to fall to your feet and kiss them, when presenting the exact same treatment as an greater alternative. Or! You whisper behind my back, make funny little bets on who can stand dealing with me for the longest, or who can sweep me off my feet to the most humorous result! Because I’m such a sad, desperate, yet entertaining creature am I not!?” She leaned away from him for a moment, her gaze lifting to the dark sky, “‘Come one come all. Watch in amazement as the ugly, dumb, shut in cow makes a damn fool of herself and looses another potential suitor once more!’” She looked down at him again, and he could swear he saw tears in the corners of her eyes, “I’ve seen it all. You can’t fool me.”

Oh god, he thought to himself, what have these people done to her?

…damn it all, had he really just gone and made the biggest ass of himself?

He was about to open his mouth and say something to her, only to feel his words freeze on his tongue as the look of rage on Harriets face was within an instant replaced by fear as she clasped a hand over her mouth, her head snapping back and forth as if listening after something.

“Miss Frodesdott-“ He started only to be stopped by her putting her hand on his mouth.

Arthur sat still for a moment, and then his ears caught the sound of distant footsteps. Oh.

He sat there for a moment as the both of them listened to the footsteps, near, and then depart, but not quite disappear. Listening, Arthur tried to figure out where in the garden the person was, where they would be coming from, before he stood up and took a step towards Harriet.

Unlike before this time she stood her ground, her hand still firmly clamped on his mouth, but he could see that the tears of frustration in the corner of her eyes had slid down her cheeks. She quickly looked around and then grabbed his hand with her other hand, pulling him off the path, behind the hedges and into their shadows.

“Be quiet.” She whispered harshly, before finally letting go of his mouth after he gave her a nod. She’d let go of his hand but rested one hand on his shoulder as if trying to keep him hidden in the shadow with her as she eyed where they had come from.

There was footsteps on the gravel of the path, footsteps which grew closer quickly, and then passed the two of them.

Then they just stood there for a few moments, listening.

“…I’m sorry.” Arthur finally whispered, looking down at her still damp cheeks, pretty sure that a few more tears had slid down her cheek as they waited for the danger to pass. This was his fault wasn’t it? He’d gone and mucked it up. His friends had told him he sometimes tended to do that, to get caught up in his own emotions, his own idea of how things was supposed to work… Hell, maybe that’s part of why his ex-fiancé had left him, and now he’d gone and done it again, with yet another person who made his heart speed up, and one he’d just met. God, even if he could tell himself he couldn’t have known about what she’d told him before now, he now had gone and put her in the precarious situation of her possibly being seen alone with him, hadn’t he?

He had to do something to fix this.

He tried to catch her gaze, but her eyes stayed fully on the same place as before, unwavering, so he slipped his hand inside of his waistcoat -taking care not to bump his arm into her- and searched for a handkerchief. He felt the edges of lace and was about to pull it out before he remembered the red irritated skin around her arms and collarbone, and thought better of it. Maybe he could…

He dug deeper into his waistcoat before he found it, his old good luck handkerchief his mother had made him as a child, that was completely without a single bit of lace. Feeling proud of himself he pulled it out and presented it to Harriet.

She didn’t look at it.

“You… don’t have to take anything I offer if you don’t want to.” he said, speaking gently but also frankly, “You definitely don’t have to take any pity, and I’m sorry for making it seem like you had to do that, but…” he took a deep breath “I just want you to know that there’s help, or support, here, if you want it… if you think you might be comfortable with taking it.”

She shook her head at him, the sparks of anger and distrust in her eyes showing themselves.

“I mean unconditional support,” he said as steadily as he could at the moment, “Not in a, saviour way, but as, you know, the thing everyone needs, something,” he let out a soft chuckle, “it’s something I need from my pals and my family all the time, never been good at party planning for example,” Harriet only huffed a little at this, but Arthur continued, “it’s also something, I think you could, at least I hope, find helpful. I promise I’ll at the very least do my bloody best. Since the support you get from those bastards you got for family members is pretty piss poor if you ask me.”

There was a faint hint of a smile on her face, but she just turned her head further away from him.

“I’m serious.” Arthur continued, “You don’t, have to accept my support if you don’t want to, but know that you can always call for me, Arthur, if you need something, anything.”

She let out a small huff, and glanced at him from the corner of her eyes.

“And what do you get out of it?” She asked, and then she let out a small snicker as she turned her head to look at him properly. “What if I ask you to…” she trailed off as her eyes fell on the handkerchief in his hand, her eyebrows raising in surprise. She lifted her hand and pointed at it. “Stain.”

Embarrassment hit Arthur like a stampeding horse as he looked down, remembering the light grey stain that at this point was imbedded into the cloth, and then he immediately adverted his eyes from hers as he tried to explain himself.

“I uh, I’m sorry, I know it isn’t that fancy as you might deserve, I do carry one that is meant for pretty ladies like yourself, but uh, it has a lot of lace, and it seemed like your skin didn’t like it and all.” Oh he was doing so bad, he usually was better at this, but now he could just hear himself rambling like a nervous schoolboy, his face growing warmer as she looked at him in both surprise and suspicion. Nervously he brushed his thumb against the cloth and cringed at the roughness of it. “If I had one that was good enough and without lace I would have given you that one, I swear. You shouldn’t have to choose in between an old rag like this and something actually fitting you. It is clean, but-“

There was a tug at the handkerchief making Arthur stop his babbling, then another tug, rougher this time.

“…Are you letting me borrow this or are you going to keep gripping it?” Her voice piped up and as he turned his head to look at her he found her turned toward him, a small, cautious and crooked smile playing on her lips as she tugged at the handkerchief and looked up at him. Her hand that rested on his shoulder relaxed a little and moved so it was only on his chest, he wondered if she could feel his thundering heartbeat under it.

He hadn’t dared imagine having her smile turned towards him before, and he felt his embarrassment being replaced by a feeling of joy that spread from his chest. He wondered what he had to do to make her smile towards him more, and if he could summon that same smile that grazed her face before in the library and by the fountain again.

It was almost like his wish was immediately granted as he let go of the handkerchief, and Harriet lifted the piece of cloth up to her face with a look of intrigue.

“Why are you carrying it around if it’s not for offering it to people?” She asked, drying her face with the cloth, quickly and efficiently, completely unbothered by it’s roughness.

“Oh, uh,” he mumbled and then cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, for luck.” He admitted feeling a little of the embarrassment from before returning, “My mum, uh mother made it fo-.”

“Harriet!” A restrained but angry yell, cut him off as Ragnar briskly walked up on the gravel path behind them. They both went fully quiet for a moment, but he too thankfully passed.

“What an absolute piss-stain.” Arthur muttered under his breath.

Her eyes went wide and she let out a very unladylike snort, which Arthur to his surprise realised fitted her, and not in a bad way.

“Piss-stain?” She repeated shifting so her elbow was resting on his chest, lifting the hand to cover a small crooked grin hidden under her fingers, “you have some interesting insults.”

“Eh,” he said, scratching at his chin, and feeling the bloom of joy at her smile one more. “It’s not that spectacular, I’ve got some better ones if you wanna hear them sometime.” He laughed to himself softly at the ridiculousness of what he was saying.

More footsteps came into hearing shot, this time two of them, and they passed quickly.

“So, should I… do you want me to do something?” He asked her seriously, his gaze flicking from her to behind them.

“About wha- oh.” She mimicked his eye movement, a look of confusion crossing her face. “Huh.” She muttered, “Nothing? I already told you I don’t need you playing hero.” She said in a sharp tone, leaning back from him and returning her hand to his shoulder.

“And I won’t.” Arthur agreed, he admittedly still felt reluctant about it, but following his instincts seemed in this case to only cause more trouble for her, so he thought it was the best to just stand back and listen to her thoughts on the matter first, “I just, if there’s anything you want me to do… you just have to tell me.”

Harriet let out a huff as she raised her eyebrows at him.

“And what could you do realistically?” She asked him, “Kill him? Kidnap me? Wed me? I don’t want that.” She took a small contemplative pause, “Okay maybe the first one doesn’t sound too bad, but it’s still illegal which makes it messy, and the satisfaction only temporary,” She waved her hand in a circle, “and morally questionable.”

“If it makes you feel better I felt the urge to strangle him a while ago.” Arthur said, although slightly shocked she would admit to such thoughts herself, “But… I’m sure I can do… something?” The fact that she outright stated how she didn’t wish to wed him stung more then he knew it should, but that couldn’t stop him from doing what was right and help the woman where she’d let him. If she’d let him. Please let me do something, he pleaded with her silently.

She looked at him appraisingly and still with a certain caution, and then she sighed, patted her palm on his shoulder before dropping it.

“Maybe,” she simply stated, “but I don’t think we have the time to think of something, I should get back to my sister before she loses her wits completely.” She took a step away from him, and then set her unwavering gaze on him again. “Do not tell a soul about this meeting, or I’ll make sure you’ll regret it.”

“I won’t, not a single soul.” He said, knowing full well that he wouldn’t put her in such a situation if she didn’t wish it.

The she took another step away from him and his heart leaped for him to embrace her and not let go. Thankfully he didn’t, but the idea of her being whisked back to a horrible family that mistreated her hurt.

There had to be something he could do, there had to!

“You’re welcome to come to any future balls held by my family, if you wish.” He said after her just as she was about to walk out to the path “Or any other sort of outing that works for you. If it, uh, can give you some sort of relief from, everything.”

“…I’ll consider it.” She nodded, and then disappeared past the hedges, her shoes meeting the gravel, and her footsteps eventually fading away.

The evening wind brushed against his cheek, as he once more stood lonely, alone and chest throbbing with longing. He had been right, he had found another love of his life, but she was in a situation that… well, he didn’t like one bit, but he wasn’t sure what he could do for her. He wanted to make it stop in an instant, he wanted to act now, but that seemed like it wouldn’t be happening. Following his protective instincts to hold and save her had backfired spectacularly, so now he stood there hoping that he would get to see her again. She had struck him as intelligent, hell even brilliant, so a part of him hoped they could figure something out, but that hope rested on the assumption that she even liked him enough for that. Either way, his eyes felt wet, and he felt so goddamn useless.

He slumped to the ground and reached into his waistcoat for his good luck handkerchief…

Only to realise as he dug deeper that he’d never gotten it back from Harriet.

…She had said that she would consider his offer hadn’t she?

And as he then sat there, staring at the suns last rays disappearing bellow the horizon and some faintly hopeful but confused feeling of warmth filling him, a few moments away a tired, jaded and haggard looking woman got into a carriage with her frustrated sister and brother-in-law. Having hidden the handkerchief out of her relatives views in her handbag.

She stared out of the window as they discussed todays happenings (leaving her out of the conversation completely as per usual). As the sister expressed intrigue over the Lord that had shown such interest in her little sister, and as the brother in law stood critical against the Lords abilities to be a fitting husband, the woman held her handbag against her chest, conflicted, but sure of one thing and one thing only.

Tomorrow she would send a letter to him, if only to make sure he got his lucky handkerchief back, and maybe, only maybe, risking it in order to see if the two of them could figure something out.

And maybe in order to once more see that dumb, genuine and flustered smile, and those gentle and expressive eyes of his once more.

#red shoes and the seven dwarfs #red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #my post #tw ableism #tw abuse #(just to be safe)

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snoopyearss · 6 months

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When jjk characters call you “clingy” pt. 2

Feat. crybaby-ish!reader

Gojo, Geto, Toji

I’m sorry it took so long! I triiiied to make them as realistic as possible based off of their characters so pls don’t bite my head off if it’s not accurate omg it’s call fanfiction for a reason

Part 1 if you missed it!

Satoru Gojo

Guilt and shame filled his body after that little interaction. He didn’t even know where that behavior came from. All he knew was that it was a shameful thing to do. The meeting didn’t go well, and he took it out on you. He felt disgusting. Now all he can hear is the clanging of pots and pans along with the smell of a familiar dish.

His favorite meal.

It made his heart feel heavy. Here he is practically cursing at you and calling you ‘clingy’ while you’re in the kitchen cooking his favorite meal. You didn’t even have to, you could’ve made him order takeout for pulling a stunt like that. But you didn’t. And the fact that you didn’t, hurt him even more. Satoru stepped out of the shower and quickly put on some more comfortable clothes so he could go and apologize to you.

He walked out of your shared bedroom to only one plate by the table with food on it. He presumed it was his. But what he didn’t see was your plate. You both always ate together, “so why didn’t she place both plates on the table?” He thought to himself. He looked around to see where you had possibly gone. He turned to his left when he heard you sneeze. There you were, sitting on the balcony with a fluffy blanket over you, staring at the city before you.

He smiled softly as he admired you so snuggled up against the mini sofa. His eyes traveled to your face filled with sadness, you were sniffling as you wiped away excess tears. His smile dropped and it finally hit him as to why you didn’t set your plate at the table. He knew he had to make things right.

He made his way toward the sliding door, giving you an apologetic smile as he looked into your teary, red eyes. My poor baby.

“Hey, sweetheart,” He says softly and has a seat on the ottoman in front of you. “Hey,” Now it’s you who doesn’t greet him back with a pet name. He notices. “I looked on the table and noticed only one plate. Did you eat already?”

“Wasn’t hungry.” You mumbled. Satoru sighed quietly in response. He knew you didn’t want to eat with him. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” He started. “I’m so sorry for snapping at you and for calling you clingy. Today wasn’t the best day and for some stupid reason, I took that out on you. You didn’t deserve that, you were only just trying to help. It breaks my heart to see you this upset and have it be because of me. I'm so sorry my love.”

You took a deep breath before speaking. “I didn’t mean to annoy you,” Your bottom lip slightly quivering. He got up from the ottoman and sat down next to you. “Hey, no..baby,” He cooed as he scooped you up and placed you on his lap. “You could never annoy me, sweetheart. I love you so much and I never want you to think that I don’t.” He reassured as you softly cried in his chest. He then kissed your forehead and rubbed your back, repeating the phrases “I’m so sorry” and “I love you so much”.

Eventually, you calmed down and you both were just staring at the brightly lit city. “How’re ya feeling sweetheart? Feeling any better?” He tilted his head to the side to look at you, very comfortable in his lap. You nodded yes and he kissed you on your temple. “Would you like to eat dinner together?” You nodded in response. “Ok, good because I want us to eat dinner together.” He chuckled.

He knew that you were a bit sensitive, and it would take a few hours for your mood to change. So to make it up to you, he called off work and took you on a shopping spree the next day.

Suguru Geto

Suguru ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. He knew he had to make things right, especially since you left everyone to run away with him too. Suguru put himself in your shoes for a second. You left your family and friends as well. He couldn’t imagine what you must be going through and it made his chest ache.

“Mr. Geto, where did Y/n go? We wanted to give her a present!” They ran up to him and Nanako opened her hands to show him a flower crown. “Do you think she’ll like it? She taught us how!” She softly asked. He looked at the gift they made and smiled softly. “Of course, she would love it.” he held his hand out for the gift. “It’s lovely, girls.” She giggled in response. “You should give it to her! We made it to cheer her up!”

“Cheer her up?” Suguru frowned. Did they hear your mini-argument? Did they see how you stormed off? He was confused. “Yeah! She seems a bit sad. When she took us to the mall today, she was super quiet.” Their response made him feel worse. “Let me talk to her.” He got up from his seat. Before he was able to walk back in, Mimiko tugged on his shirt. “Don’t forget our present!” She reminded him. “Of course, how could I forget?”

He knocked on the door to your shared bedroom and saw you wrapped up under the comforter. You back was facing the door so you didn’t see when he walked in. “Honey,” he softly said. “Can we talk?”

“So now you wanna talk? I thought I was bein’ clingy.” You scoffed and pulled the comforter over your head. You heard his footsteps get closer to where you were lying and felt a dip in the bed. “Y/n, I’m sorry angel. I’m just so frustrated with everything at the moment and I didn’t mean to say those things. It wasn’t my intention to yell at you, baby.” He said rubbing your thigh. You remained silent for a bit. “You know,” You removed the comforter from your face and sat up. “I left my family and friends too. We all did. I understand your frustration, but you aren’t the only one struggling, Sugu.”

“I know, I’m so sorry baby,” He pulled you into him and wiped your tears. “I couldn't be more glad that you came with me. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You both sat in silence for a while.

“You make a great mother for the girls too. I see how they react to you. They love you so much.” He pointed out. “Really?” You sat up in amusement. “Of course! They even made you a gift,” He handed you the flower crown they made for you. “This is so sweet,” Tears began to well up in your eyes again. “They told me you taught them how to make it. You’re way better at this parenting think than I am. But I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.” You smiled in response. “You gotta make it up to me though. You know that right?”

“Of course I do. Anything for my favorite person.”

Toji Fushiguro

Toji has never yelled at you before so it made you jump a bit. Your legs feeling like jello as you walk to baby Megumi’s room to see what was the matter. You wiped your tears from your cheeks before greeting the tiny baby. “Hey ‘gumi, what’s the matter?” You cooed as you picked him up from his crib. “Aw, were you awoken by the noise? It’s okay, my love.” You held him and checked his diaper just in case.

“It’s been a while since you last ate. How ‘bout we give you a bottle hm?” You prepared his bottle and sat with him in the rocking chair. You tested the bottle on your hand before feeding him. A few seconds passed and you heard heavy footsteps walk to the door. “Y/n,” Toji called out, not wanting to startle Megumi anymore. “Toji.”

He sighed at your choice of response. He knew he really fucked up if you resulted to being petty and giving one sentence responses. “Baby-”

“I’m not doing this with you right now. Not in front of him.” You interrupted him, placing Megumi to lean against your chest and burp him. You both waited for him to swiftly fall back asleep before addressing the slight tension between you two.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I was just-“

“Really frustrated?” You cut him off. “Don’t act like that baby. You know I’m not good at this whole..apologizing thing.” He scratched the back of his neck.

You said nothing.

“C’mere little girl,” he opened his bear arms and like a magnet you attached yourself to his big frame.

“If I ever yell at you like that again, take my gun and shoot me.”

TAG LIST: @hikachipsz @dontxevenxask @dianexo-v @chilichopsticks @koko-1025 @stevenknightmarc @ladyaggaga @satoreo @queenmimis @constawrites @satorugirlie @bluechocolatemint @teenagedreamlandstudent @dvc4 @yanjunify @ressespearlz @nxxun-blog @yinyinyinyinyinyin @honoredalone @iheartlinds @lwyourx

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vole-mon-amour · 2 years

Text

#genuinely surprised i fell into this hole again cause it didn't feel right in the first place #it's way too old and in the last for me to obsess over it but apparently my grain decided differently #clown shoes squeaking of course but umm #folks i think you'll have to bare with me for a bit #genuinely thought 2 days would be enough but now my brain can't focus on anything but mlor sooo...#guess we're in it now #it's ironic cause I'm not even into musicals. at all.#and yet here i go again #lrs in the next few days it is then #maybe I'll even manage to find some fanfiction?#personal #writing this as mlor is playing 2x speed in my head. my brain forces it on me.#mlor #falling in love with salieri again would be fun if it wasn't that old and mothe was some irl drama queen on yt #and yet i followed him on ig even though he has a wife and a kid and that is a red fucking flag for me #don't mind me please

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pinguwrites · 10 months

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Ooooh, what about this? Future!reader accidentally time traveled to 1940s when she met William Killick, and he had to take care of her due to injuries she had. She ended up staying with him while rejecting his advances because she was trying to find a way to go back to future, and it wouldn’t be fair to him if she were to accept his advances, but she didn’t know William was sabotaging the solutions to ensure she would stay with him forever.

THIS IS ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL LIKE HOLY SHIT. I was about to write something like this with Tommy in Black Heart, but I opted out, and I hadn't even considered this with William, so I'm so glad you requested it!!

this was supposed to be a short-length fic lol, it's like the longest thing I've ever written on here

Home Is Where the Heart Is ⸻ William Killick

pairing | william killick x future!reader

summary | You don't think much of the box when it arrives at your front door. That is, until you open it and are transported decades into the past. There, you fall into the arms of a handsome soldier, who is intent on making you stay.

word count | 9k

Warnings: DUB-CON, possessive!william, future!reader, period typical sexism it's okay when it's william, reader has a software job, weird time travel plot (who knows how the box got there? it's totally not going to be revealed in part two ;) ), mentions of war, reader simps so hard, p in v sex, breeding kink

Disclaimer: The Edge of Love characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

A/N: I'm honestly not too proud with how rushed it was, but I'm glad it's out there. I'm definitely doing a part two. Be warned for errors.

You were lying in a field of grass, tall, bushy trees lining the area around you. You seemed to be in some type of countryside because in the distance you could faintly see quaint little houses and farmland (at least, you assumed it was; your vision was awfully blurry), but other than that, you had no clue as to where you were.

“Ah,” you hissed, noticing the cut on your body. When you arrived — however that happened — you had scrapped your arm on a sharp rock embedded in the dirt, and now it was bleeding, red blood trickling down your arm.

You sighed miserably, trying to make sense of the situation.

Yesterday, a packaged box arrived on your front doorstep. No address, no company, just a note in pen, To [Y/n] [L/n]. You were a little wary of its contents but brought it inside anyway. You opened it and uncovered a machine, steel and simple in its construction, yet difficult to understand. There was no instruction manual or labels for the buttons, and it took you a while to know if you were even looking at it right, the only hint being the Roman numerals inside the dials.

After tinkering around with it, you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew, you were in a completely other place. All you had on were your clothes, some money, and your phone, which, surprise surprise, had no signal, so all you could do was look at your downloads — completely useless — and take a photo.

I must’ve been drugged, you thought, still feeling hazy. I should have called the cops the moment I realized something was off.

You got up and took off your socks, trying to stop the bleeding with it. It wasn’t the most hygienic, but it was all you had at the moment, and you weren’t about to tear off pieces of the shirt you had on, especially not when you were already shivering.

The contraption had traveled with you, and though you were aware it was the reason you were here in the first place, you thought it better to bring it along, as evidence. You could show it to the government, and they could use their little science ways to find the culprit. All would be fine.

All will be fine.

You started walking. You didn’t have any shoes on for protection, so it was difficult to step across the dirt, with all its rocks and insects swarming about, but you managed to get to grass quick enough, and it felt much better, almost healing to walk barefoot on the softness of mother nature.

But you didn’t get very far. Eventually, your stomach started grumbling, and you felt like your intestines were twisting inside with desperation. Your sock was now red, and your hand was trembling, so with a defeated sigh, you let go, of both the sock and the heavy machine, allowing the blood to flow freely. You bent over to pick the sock back up first, but the sudden movement made your head reel, and before you knew it, you were out again.

+++

“You’re awake,” a voice said, a male’s voice, a British accent that sounded like butter. Oh, butter, if you could get your hands on that alone you would be satisfied.

You opened your eyes, blinking. A figure, with pale skin and dark hair made it’s way over to you, and in a panic, you crawled away, eyes darting across the room. You were on a bed, bandages on your arm, but before you could calm down or even begin to think properly, panic took over, your heart rate elevated, and you sighed, before passing out again.

+++

For about the third time today, or however long you were out, you woke up. This time your vision was much clearer, but you still had this nasty migraine in your head. You were sick inside, the kind of sick that happens when you haven’t eaten in a while but can’t eat because you feel like you’ll throw up.

You wondered if you were in the same place again. You remembered a man, with a soothing voice, but he wasn’t here right now. Though the possibility that you had been kidnapped entered your mind, you noticed the lack of bonds and chains on your body. He was probably just helping you, you reasoned.

You slowly got out of bed, wincing at the shooting pain in your arm. You observed your surroundings. The bedroom was very minimalist, and . . . quirky. You loved the design and the materials used, as it reminded you of a cottage, but there was nothing helpful in sight. All the technology you could see, like the kitchen, needed to be updated and was worn out. There was some type of record player, or CD tape, or whatever that was called, on one of the counters and a radio beside it.

You didn’t bother with any of that. You were thirsty, throat dry and gnawing at you, so you went to look for water, hoping that whoever lived here didn’t go out and get it from a fucking well. He probably does. Look at this place!

“Shit!” you swore, your knees buckling from underneath you. You felt so weak and miserable and vulnerable. It hit you at this moment that you were probably a hundred miles away from home, in a strange place in a strange home you’d never seen before. How were you going to get back? What were you going to do?

Tears started welling in your eyes. You hated that you were being so emotional. Why couldn’t you toughen up and deal with the situation like a proper adult?

You leaned onto the counter, trying to balance yourself, when the front door opened up, and the man you saw before walked in, carrying a bag full of vegetables and other foods. He quickly placed the bag down and held you in his arms, his warmth comforting and relaxing.

He had short, dark hair, and a sharp jawline, and from this distance, you could see light freckles scattered across his cheeks. He had the most beautiful blue eyes you’d ever seen, like glaciers, like the ocean. Fuck, he was so handsome.

“Here,” he said, guiding you back to the bedroom. He set you down on the bed, gazing at you with such intensity, like adoration or devotion.

“W-who are you?” you asked, voice cracking. “Where am I? Hngh.” You rubbed your temples. Didn’t he have any pain medications?

“My name is William. William Killick,” the man introduced softly. “Don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you.” He went off into the kitchen and brought back a glass of water. You drank it slowly, the cool liquid flowing through your body, wetting your mouth. “I didn’t know if you had family nearby, so I took you to my place.”

William paused, as if thinking of what to say next. “Get more rest, it’s night.”

You hadn’t even noticed the time, but one look out the window told you he was right. It was pitch black outside.

“You’ll wake up tomorrow, and have some breakfast.”

You shook your head, and handed the glass back to him, only for him to set it down on the nightstand table. “Where’s my phone? Where’s my . . . box?”

He stared at you blankly, before clearing his throat. “Your stuff is in the back. I didn't know what it was — hey, don’t move.” William’s strong hands kept you in place, pushing you back down to the bed as gently as he could whilst still keeping a firm grip. “Rest,” he ordered. “Don’t need you fainting on me again.”

You wanted to argue, but you couldn’t. You laid your head on the pillow, without a choice but to trust William, and fell asleep, wrapping yourself in the blanket with a content sigh. All the questions you had, all the thoughts, faded away and were replaced by darkness.

+++

You dreamt of yourself and yourself. You, the spectator, were standing outside a window, but it wasn’t just any window. It was your window, the one that led to the inside of your bedroom, where you could see you and William — the strange man — entangled in the sheets. Lovers. You two were lovers. You two were making love.

Anyone would have felt creepy watching someone else, and anyone would have noticed someone watching them, but none of that happened. The sun should have cast a shadow on you, but it didn't. The passerby should have called you out, but they didn’t.

You had just enough awareness to realize that this was a dream. How were you back at home already? Why were you and William kissing?

While originally you felt nothing, like a simple observer without thoughts, you were suddenly flooded with heavy emotions. Confusion, shame, lust, confusion.

But in just a few moments, the world around you crumbled, like an earthquake, and the sun and moon passed by, stars moving across the heavens, and you were warped by time, back in the same place you were before.

+++

You woke up with a gasp, cold sweat running down your body, and immediately William was by your side. You rested your head on his chest, grasping onto his shirt desperately, not wanting him to leave.

“Shh, shh,” he cooed, running his fingers through your hair.

“Sorry,” you muttered, making no effort to leave his side. “I don’t know . . .”

“Shh.”

You both were like this for a while. Faint images of your dream passed through your mind, and from what little you remembered, you assumed it had been a wet dream.

I can’t believe it, you thought. Having a wet dream — about a guy I barely met. Control yourself!

You pulled away, already missing his warmth. William frowned a little but didn’t say anything. “What’s your name, darling?” he asked.

You hesitated.

“I told you, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“[Y/n],” you finally told him. “Where are we?”

William narrowed his eyes. You had a feeling he knew more than he was letting on, but you didn’t want to press.

“Wales,” William answered.

You froze. How the fuck did you get to Wales? What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

“Um, that’s nice,” you said awkwardly. “How long has it been since you found me?”

“A few days.”

You tried not to panic, but all you could think about was your job and your friends and your family. Have you been reported missing yet?

“You must be hungry,” William said. “I’ll cook something for you. I’m not the best, but I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

“It’s alright.” You waved his concern off, though it did tug at your heartstrings that he was worried. “I'll get some fast food.”

You dug through your pockets, hoping your wallet was still in there. Thankfully it was. You pulled it out and grabbed two crisp twenty-dollar bills, but William hissed and pushed it back in, his hand not leaving yours.

“What are you doing carrying around that much money?” he asked, giving you an incredulous look. “How are you meant to protect yourself? Where’d you get that? Do you have a husband?”

You pushed his hand away. “I work. And what’s the problem?”

You knew that the American dollar wasn’t equivalent to a British pound, but was the difference that bad? Sure, forty dollars was a lot of money if you were just going to a gas station or something, but nothing to get excited over.

William huffed. “You can’t just show me that much money like that. What if I was a thief, hmm? What would you do then?”

“Are you?” you asked, not understanding why he was making such a big deal out of it.

“No. I’m a gentleman.”

You scoffed, amused, but there was a little smile on your face. “A gentleman?”

“Yes,” he insisted. “A proper man.”

There was a moment of silence between you both. You wanted him to hold you again, but you thought it would be best if you just went on your way.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, getting up from the bed. “And bandaging me and all.” You gave him one of the bills. “I know it’s in dollars, but I’m sure you can convert it.”

William didn’t take the money. “You’re not leaving — you’re still hurt. I’d be remiss if I let a lass half as pretty as you alone on the streets.”

You chalked up his way of talking to the region. You honestly found it quite attractive. That, coupled with his British accent, made you feel like you were in one of those romance movies. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t in love with you and that you were just acting irrational and horny.

“I’ll be fine. We’ll exchange numbers, do you have a charger?”

“What?”

“A phone charger. My phone’s probably dead.”

“The box?”

You narrowed your eyes. “No, the rectangle. The phone.”

“Ah, the one that glows?”

You briefly wondered if he simply didn’t know what a phone was. You knew some people preferred not to have modern technology in their life.

“Yes. I need to call someone — ”

“ — It stopped glowing.”

Great. William obviously didn’t have a charger. And if he didn’t know what it was, no one nearby would. All that was next to do would be to walk to a big city and hope someone there could help you get back home.

“Look, darling.” You ignored the way your heart fluttered when he called you that. “I don’t know what a phone is, or why you’re here, but I know that you still need to recover.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. “But I really have to go. I have work and — ”

“ — Surely you can take a day off. What is it you do?” William asked.

“I’m a software developer. I code.”

William had a blank face. A pink blush dusted his cheeks. He cleared his throat, “I, er, I’ve never heard of that. You mean computers? The big ones that take up a room?”

“No, it’s not the fifties.”

“Well, 1946 is close.”

You didn’t know what to make of that. “What does 1946 have to do with this?”

William observed you intently. “The year. The year is 1946.”

You blinked. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be the 20th century — that was impossible. So many things were wrong with that. How come it was you who traveled in time? Why didn’t the government know about this? Even if you were ignoring the question of how, there were still so many whys.

“No,” you said slowly, inching away from William. What kind of sick prank was this? He was supposed to be helping you, not confusing you. “You’re messing with me.”

William sensed that you were uncomfortable, because he backed away, his hands in the air. You could tell he was waiting for the perfect moment to get closer.

“I’m not a liar . . . Are you from the future?”

Fuck. You weren’t sure. How could that even be possible?

“No,” you said hesitantly. “I dunno, I must be . . .”

Your eyes subtly peered past William and at the door. If only you could get past him . . .

You looked straight at the window, making sure to grab his attention. “Oh,” you whispered, putting on your best shocked expression. The moment he was distracted you sprinted past him and bolted out of the room and out the house, running across the field to the next house you could see. Your arm still hurt, but you were willing to shove down the pain.

“No, no, please!” William shouted, running after you.

In just a minute, he had caught up to you and tackled you to the ground. He pinned your hands above your head and sat on your lower stomach, rendering you useless. His lips were so close to yours, and the look on his face was pissed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice forceful, gripping onto your wrists tighter.

“P-please,” you pathetically sputtered out. “Don’t hurt me.”

He didn’t budge. “I’m trying to help you — I’m not lying to you, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me now,” you cried, squirming.

William’s eyes softened as he realized what he was doing. “You promise not to run again?”

You nodded, your lower lip wobbling.

“Alright.”

He still didn’t let go of you, but he did pull you up from the ground, wiping the dirt off of your back. Tears flowed down your cheek like rainwater, and you couldn’t help but curl in on yourself.

William held onto your arm as he walked you back to the house, not allowing you another chance of escape, but he did wipe your tears gently and soothe you. You felt embarrassed. Why did you run? You had acted purely on instinct there. This man was clearly only trying to help.

“Look,” he said softly, sitting you back down on the bed like a child. “I’ll take you into town, hmm? Show you around and all — maybe that’ll convince you. You must be quite far into the future to be dressing like that and to have a . . . phone with you, so things will be different, right? What year are you from?”

“. . . 2023.”

“I knew it. On your phone, there was a date. I wasn’t sure then, but . . .” William suddenly reached his hands up and rubbed his thumb across your chapped lips, catching you off guard. “They’re dry,” he said. “I’ll draw up a bath for you so you can bathe while I cook. I’ll get you some lotion afterward.”

You nodded. What else could you do?

+++

William had cooked some simple fish and chips while you cleaned yourself. You had to use a tin tub, which was insane to you, but you didn’t complain about it. He supplied you with clothing, an old-fashioned dress his mother had accidentally left here. You were grateful it was not from some ex-girlfriend or wife, even though you had no right to feel that way. You put aside your other clothes to wash later.

After finishing with that, you sat down at the dining table, and like the hungry girl you were, you gobbled the food down eagerly. It was so fresh and delicious, not at all like the food you had in the future, pumped with chemicals and artificially bred. You tried to be as neat as you could, but it was difficult when you were starving. William had watched on with amusement, telling you to slow down and straighten your back every once in a while.

He took the plates away when you both were done, and then did as he promised and gave you some lotion, but instead of letting you apply it, he took a bit of cream on his fingers and rubbed it on your lips. “Stay still,” he murmured.

“I-I can do it—”

“No, you can’t. You’re still injured.”

You understood his reasoning. And you didn’t mind him touching you like that.

“The rest of my body is dry, too,” you blurted out.

What were you thinking? You didn’t even know this man. Trying to get him to touch the rest of your body — stupid girl.

William’s breathing hitched. “As in . . . your knees as well?”

“. . .”

He cleared his throat. “Well, then. Put them out, over my lap.”

You bit your lower lip, watching on as he rubbed his hands over your legs. His touch was so warm and it felt more like a massage. You felt bad about doing this, leading him on. If he was right about the time travel, then you couldn’t entertain any sort of relationship with him. It wouldn’t be fair.

But it was just an act of service. It didn’t mean much, right?

“Oh, that’s nice,” you said, resting your head on the bed. You felt a bit off allowing a random man to do this to you, but he wasn’t random now, was he? He had saved you. And besides, he was he who insisted he rub the lotion in the first place.

“What is the future like?” William asked. “Is there another war?”

“Sort of. Not really,” you answered, which panicked William. “Don’t worry. If you’re talking about America and Russia, no one dies.”

William chuckled. “I should hope not. I don’t fancy serving in another world war.”

“You served?” you asked curiously.

“Yes. As a captain in the British Army.”

You supposed it was normal. Most men in this time either signed up for the military or were drafted. You couldn’t imagine the horrors William must have gone through. You would never be able to understand the trauma he carried with him. You were curious, but you knew better than to ask. He didn’t need your pity, and you certainly didn’t want to offend him.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“For what?”

“That it had to happen. War and all that.”

“Does war not happen in the future?”

Now you felt a little stupid.

“Well — yes. It does. I’m just sorry. We learned about the world wars in history — and I just — I’m not claiming to know anything. Yeah, sorry.” You looked down.

William didn’t say anything to that. He just kept rubbing your dry skin. Afterward, he put the lotion away and sat next to you, running his fingers through your hair.

“I expect stories from you. I want to hear everything about the future.”

You still didn’t believe you were in the past, at least, not completely.

“You can tell me as we pass through town,” he added.

“I need to wash my clothes first.”

Willian narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to wear that anymore.”

“Why not?”

He pursed his lips. “It’s too revealing. A woman should never go out wearing those types of clothing.” He sighed. “Perhaps it’s different in the future, but here, you’ll get hurt if you dress like that.” He continued playing with your hair. “I want you to be safe. So, you have to promise me that you’ll stay by my side at all times, yes?”

You nodded. You always thought that if you caught men talking to you like this, you would slap them, but here you were, turned on by William’s sexism. It was different, you reasoned. He was more focused on protecting you than restricting you. Was it bad that you found that hot?

“Good girl,” he said proudly. “Good girl.”

+++

Walking through town had been more of a frightening experience than you expected. You realized, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were indeed in the past. Producing a prank with this level of investment and money was pointless, and you never had any mental issues in the past, so why would one suddenly show up now? And even if it did, you couldn’t possibly be imagining this all in your head.

All the cars were shiny and new, yet old models, ones that wouldn’t be produced in the future. All the women and men wore traditional clothing, like the dress William picked out for you. The hairstyles were medium-length and curled, or slicked back, with lots of gel and products used to keep them in place. You were grateful William didn’t ask you to do any of that. Not that you would have let him. At a certain point, you would have drawn a line.

“I have to get back,” you told William as you walked on a trail. “The machine has something to do with it. I just have to figure out how it works.”

“That’s an engineering job,” he pointed out.

“I’m good at math and science. I work in advanced technology, so I should be able to figure something out. All it needs is a bit of testing . . . I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while until I figure out a place to stay. I’ll give you all the money I have and I promise I’ll find a job — ”

“ — No need. Stay as long as you like. I don’t want your money. I won’t stop you from finding a job, but it’s not necessary. I can handle any expenses.”

You didn’t argue with him. He didn’t seem averse to the idea of letting a stranger stay at his place. It made sense. People in this time were more hospitable and open (at least, when they felt like it), and William, being a man from the forties, would never allow you to carry any of the financial burden.

You still felt a little bad.

“Thank you. It means a lot to me. Now, what is it you want to hear about the future?”

William’s eyes lit up excitedly. “Do flying cars exist?”

You chuckled. “No. But we have self-driving ones.”

“Self-driving? How do they work?”

You paused. You had no idea. “I’m not sure. They probably have sensors to detect other cars. And, well, there’s a map. So it’s connected to a satellite . . .”

“Satellite?”

“It’s this thing in space. It does . . . stuff. It’s manmade.”

“Space? Have we discovered alien life?”

“No. But we have sent rovers to Mars and we’ve landed a person on the moon.”

William stopped walking. “The moon?” he repeated, bewildered. “Have you gone?”

I wish. “It’s only for astronauts. You have to be trained for that sort of stuff.”

“And when did this all happen?”

“Around the 1960s. There was a space race between America and Russia, and America won.”

Once you got the ball rolling, William would not stop asking questions. You answered them as best as you could and avoided topics like the current political climate and weaponry and all that. After he was done with all the serious stuff, like advancements in science and whether robots had taken over the world yet, he moved on to more social and cultural topics. You were relieved to find out that he wasn’t racist or homophobic or incredibly misogynistic. If anything he was rather tame about it all, and was glad that women had earned more rights, though he seemed upset that the dynamic of a gentlemanly husband and lady-like housewife wasn’t pushed upon society.

“There’s nothing wrong with things going the opposite way around,” he had said. “Two people of the same gender marrying. It’s only that women need to be looked after, and if she doesn’t want to work, then it is her man’s obligation to do it for her. And in return, she must be obedient and serve him whenever he pleases — whether it’s by cleaning the house or . . . other things.”

“And what if she doesn’t want it?” you questioned, referring to the other things.

“A man should always make sure she likes it.”

You could practically feel all the feminism leaving your body at that.

The conversation ended when you reached back home (home? It’s not your home, you reminded yourself). William replaced your bandages with care. You were already starting to feel better, since the cut wasn’t too big, and you offered to help with cooking dinner this time.

After that, you decided to tinker with the box.

It was made out of some type of metal, with two different dials on the top and a button on the side. But it wasn’t like anything you’d ever seen before. The first dial went from zero to nine (zero being nulla) in Roman numerals, and had four hands, each of them colored in order: red, green, blue, and yellow. Respectively, there were four tiny colored knobs on the side, like the ones by a watch, where you could move each hand. The other dial was the same case.

“It must be the date,” you said aloud to yourself. “But which is which?”

Taking a gamble, you pressed the button, but it didn’t do anything. All it did was signal a small lens to start blinking red.

“Are you sure you should do that now?” William asked, coming up from behind you. “Look at this.” He crouched to your level on the floor. “Your eyes have bags underneath them. You’re still tired.”

You rubbed the area beneath your eyes. Did they really have bags? You hadn’t realized.

“I should probably go to sleep then,” you said, putting the box down and getting up.

William walked you over to the bedroom, and was about to leave when you asked, “Where are you sleeping?”

“The couch.”

You frowned. “It’s your house and I’m your guest. You’ve already done so much for me – ”

“— If you’re going to suggest you sleep on the couch, then it’s a no. That’s final.”

“But — ”

“ — Final.”

You sighed. “Then come sleep with me. I’ll stay on the floor—”

“ — No—”

“ — Then we can share the bed. We’ll put a wall of pillows between us, like this.” You grabbed a pillow and placed it in the middle of the bed, separating the two sides. “Not so bad, see?”

William relented. “Alright.”

He crawled into bed with you. His hair fell over his face as he adjusted, and the last rays of sunlight coated his body in colors of orange and yellow. If your phone wasn’t dead, you would have asked him to sit still for a picture, because at this moment, he truly looked breathtaking. He was a beautiful man. You wondered if he knew it.

“What?” William asked when he noticed you staring.

Flustered, you turned your head to look up at the ceiling. “Nothing. I was just making sure you were comfy.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see William lick his lower lip.

“You’re a sweet lass,” he commented. “You always think about others first.”

He reached over, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you (which, admittedly, despite having had a wet dream about him, scared you), but he only brushed a small speck of dust off your shoulders and murmured “Goodnight”, before burying his chin into the blanket and drifting off into sleep.

You followed in suit soon after. A part of you was hoping that you could start a life here. You’d buy a nice house and live out a simple and peaceful life. You and William didn’t even have to be romantically involved. You could just be friends, and you would be happy with that.

But a part of you also hoped that when you woke up the next morning you would be back in your own bed, in your small one-story house that you remember being so excited about buying. You knew you would never like living here in the long term. There were too many things wrong with this time and you didn’t want to be the brunt of its issues. Not only that but being aware of all the tragedies that would soon occur . . . Did you want to be faced with the moral dilemma of whether or not you should stop them? How would your presence affect things in the future? After living your whole life in 2023, you could never adjust to life in 1946.

You had to find a way back. There was simply no other choice.

+++

William showed you many things. Just as he was interested in the future, you were interested in the past. The things that excited you most of all were old-school versions of what you had in the future. Washing machines, refrigerators — they were all so different, yet the same, and it was fascinating.

You even met a few people in town. They were nice enough to hold a conversation with, though they found it weird that you lacked decorum and the social understanding of the time. The women were chatty and mildly passive-aggressive, and the men — well, the men flirted with you quite openly.

William had told people that you were family, someone related but not close enough to be bothered with technical terms like cousin or niece. No one asked questions when you two explained it like that. All the men must have thought that if you were his family and that if you had no ring on your finger you must be looking for a partner.

You were charmed by their advances, but never serious about them. Besides, William hardly let them get a word in before he shooed them away.

By the time weeks and weeks had passed you became acquainted with everyone, seen every sight to see — including the swan lake William took you to — and become close enough to William that he opened up to you. You learned that while he wasn’t an orphan, his parents never held much interest in him other than the occasional birthday letter, and the reason he came out here so far away from the city was to find peace of mind.

You grew to admire him, and you were sure he grew to admire you, too. And soon, you started to feel a certain type of way. A way that made you daydream about all the things that could be, only for reality to stomp across it and remind you of the harsh truth.

+++

William was driving a car, a modern car, your car. He was humming a little tune on the radio, singing some lyrics, hands loosely holding the wheel as he passed by a gas station. It was some Taylor Swift song, and you remember faintly thinking: Of course, he likes Taylor Swift.

He looked over to you. You were sitting by his side, a passenger princess, looking out the window. All of a sudden it was night and you two were driving down a lonely road, parking by the side of some lake. In the distance, you could hear crickets and ribbits, but you paid them no mind.

You were curled up in William’s arms, looking out the sunroof of the car, the light of the moon gently descending through the glass. You offered him a piece of chocolate, and you two just sat there, in the dark, nibbling on snacks and observing the sky, until you woke up.

+++

William had to leave for work, like usual. He again told you not to leave his property line or stray out too far, which, again, was fine by you because most days were cold and bitter.

You spent your time messing around with the box, careful not to touch the wires in the back. Once you put your mind to it, you figured out how it worked. You paid attention to where the hands were currently located and found something promising. The first dial’s hands had the numbers I, IX, IV, and VI, and the second dial was nulla, IX, nulla, and V. Alone, you wouldn’t have been able to tell what the numbers meant, but with context, you understood. The first dial was the year, and the second one was the month and date.

You didn’t quite understand how the box brought you from the future, but that didn’t matter, as it was broken. There was a little loose piece on the backside that had been damaged — a little dent, probably when you were first transported here. All you had to do was plug it back in, but the only problem was, you didn’t have a screwdriver, and you certainly weren’t going to wrench your fingers near a bunch of wires.

When William came back you told him your solution. He agreed and said that tomorrow he would take you to a local store to buy a screwdriver, and he even apologized for not having one in his house. But for now, he said he wanted to take you out to lunch.

“Lunch?” you questioned nervously. Was he asking you out on a date?

You thought about it for a moment. You did want to go, but your mind was too preoccupied with getting back to your time. Besides, it wasn’t fair to him. You did like him, but you two could never actually be together. It was all in your head.

It’s all in your head.

“You know I’ll have to go back someday,” you said, watching William’s expression become more neutral as if he was hiding his emotions. “I dunno . . . I’m getting a little attached to you,” you said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

William seemed to understand where you were going with this. “It won’t be like that. I wouldn’t blame you,” he said earnestly, taking a step forward. “We ought to enjoy our time together, while it’s still here.”

He made a valid point, enough to convince you. He had been doing that an awful lot. Convincing you.

William took you out to a nice restaurant. The food was a bit plain, but it was good and wholesome. It reminded you a lot of William’s cooking, only fancier and more well-presented. Not only that, but the atmosphere felt calming and almost romantic. You noticed that most of the people here were couples, holding hands and giggling with each other, however young or old.

Was this William’s intention? Did he like like you? Or was this just him being courteous? You couldn’t imagine that many people here were used to dating or one-night stands. But you wouldn’t know unless you asked him, and you were too nervous to do that. Besides, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. William was a very traditional man, would he even want a woman like you? A 21st-century girl?

After you two were finished eating you engaged in another walk.

“Come closer,” William said, holding out his arm for you to take. If you didn’t have any self-control, you would have jumped his bones right then and there. He was right. He was a gentleman. No man in the future would have done this for you unless they were trying to make a joke out of it.

You placed your hand on William’s arm hesitantly, trying to figure out the exact placement, walking side by side with him. It was a little cold, however, and you shivered, catching William’s attention almost instantly.

“Oh, you poor thing,” William cooed, talking of his coat and wrapping it around you. It smelled of him, a little musky, smoky like a cigarette, but in a very subtle way. “You’re so nervous. Have you never had a man do this for you?” he asked. “Hold out his arm for you to take, give you his coat?”

“No,” you admitted. “Men don’t do that in the future.”

“I do,” he said, stopping both of you in your tracks. The area was secluded, mostly covered in trees and bushes, far away from any passerby. “I would do that for my woman.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Well,” you said, wistfully, “whoever she is she’ll be a lucky woman.”

+++

William took you to a local shop to buy a screwdriver next. It all felt very domestic, something that you could get used to. You imagined running errands like this with William in the future. He would be absolutely fascinated by a grocery store, by the internet, by everything. If you thought hard, you could see it — a wondrous smile on his face, a giggle escaping his lips.

You tried not to think of it that much. After your fantasy passed your thoughts turned sad and cold, because you knew that would never happen. It will never happen. As much as you liked William, you missed your family, you missed your house, you missed everything.

When you both got back home, you plugged the broken piece in and screwed the nail. William watched on beside you, a frown on his face, drinking some tea.

“Here,” he said, inching closer, “I don’t want you exerting pressure on your arm. Let me do it.”

He grabbed a hold of the screwdriver, but he bumped into you in the process. With a gasp, he dropped his cup of tea. It shattered across the floor, glass pieces flying every, hot liquid (thankfully not boiling) splashing all over. You shrieked and backed away, watching as one of the glass shards cut right through one of the wires.

“William!” you snapped, but then your eyes turned watery, because of the cut on your hand.

He immediately went over to you, careful not to step on any glass, and picked you up bridal style, moving you away from the mess and towards the couch.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, looking panicked. “It was an honest mistake — I’m so so sorry, I can’t believe I just did that — are you hurt?”

You laughed at the absurdity of it all, even though you were clutching your finger in pain. It was a very small cut, something that would be healed within a day. “Calm down, William. I’m fine. Are you hurt?”

He shook his head, looking worried, or perhaps, scared was the right word. Yet, you couldn’t figure out why.

“William,” you said slowly. “It’s fine. You do realize we can just fix the wire? I just need a heat-shrinking tube and a soldering iron, nothing I haven’t done before.”

“. . . Oh.”

His tone made you wonder about his intentions. You’d been so caught up on how good of a person he was, helping you and giving you room and food, but really, what was his motive? Because it almost felt like he was trying to get you to stay . . . It sent a sinister feeling down your spine, albeit a tug on your heartstrings as well.

What do you want from me, William? What do you want?

+++

More time had passed. It was difficult to acquire things in this small town, and it occurred to you that such resources were not readily available at this time. You didn’t want to bother William by pestering him to go into the city for materials, so while you would bring up the topic every once in a while, you mostly kept quiet.

You took the chance to relish your break. After all, you weren’t working. It was like a fully paid vacation, so you might as well take advantage of it.

William still had a job, but when he came back, you two would just talk and talk and talk, conversations so smoothly flowing that it felt like you’d known him for years. When you weren’t talking, you were still in each other’s presence, doing your own thing. Occasionally, William would make sneaky moves like wrap his arm around your shoulder, or do the la bise. He claimed he was part French, and it was part of his custom, but even if that were true, you knew the la bise didn’t involve full-on smooches on the cheek.

You never stopped him from doing things like that, but you also never reciprocated, despite how badly you wanted to. All this stalling wouldn’t change the fact that you still had to leave. Not only that, but you were starting to feel homesick.

You missed calling your friends late at night, you missed watching colored TV, and you missed hot showers. You missed easy-access painkillers for your periods, and searching all your queries on the internet. You missed the future. Badly. And you could just feel that the day of return was near.

+++

“You dance, yes?”

Snapped out of your thoughts, you turned to William. You were both lounging on his couch, relaxing, talking, as the time passed by. He had given you a magazine to read, but you weren’t reading it, just dozing off.

You shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve gone to clubs. But — no, I can’t dance like that — William,” you whined, half-heartedly struggling as he pulled you up to you feet. “I’m going to ruin it, I don’t know where to place my feet or — ”

“ — You could never ruin anything, darling. Your presence alone is enough to satisfy me.”

You looked away. “You can’t say things like that, William.”

“Why not?”

You took his hands off you before he could even start the music.

“I don’t like it,” you lied.

William frowned. “That’s alright. Let me hold you. I know you enjoy that.” He chuckled. “When we first met you wouldn’t let go of me.”

The memory, still fresh in your mind, made you flustered.

“. . . William, what do you want from me?” you decided to ask.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean — what do you want from me?”

William licked his lower lip. “Nothing. I just want to take care of you.”

“But why?”

You could practically feel William’s nervousness. It was like when he dropped that glass. He radiated an almost jumbled energy, a desperate energy.

“Haven’t I made it more obvious?” he finally said, his hands on your waist. He brought his fingers up to brush the hair out of your face. “Am I not clear?”

You knew what he was going to say. But you wanted to hear it from him. “Clear about what?”

“I want you.” Your heart started beating. “I don’t care if you’re not from this time. I don’t care if you have a life in the future — I can be better. I can be your life.”

“. . . William.”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” he said, tilting your chin up so you could look him in the eyes. “I know you want me too. I can see it.”

“But we can’t,” you weakly protested.

“So is this what you do?” His tone grew more sharp. “Imagine things in your head and never act on them?”

You stayed silent. He was putting you in such a difficult position, couldn’t he see that?

“What’s wrong?” he continued. “Am I not good enough?”

“William,” you tried to pull away. “I have to go — ”

He locked you in his arms. Your body was so close your noses were brushing up against each other, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe you’re worried I can’t please you right.”

You could have shouted. Why was he being so forceful? You ignored the way your body grew warm — you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t and so you wouldn’t.

“I don’t want it,” you lied again.

“Well, I told you, a wife should always submit to her husband’s desires.”

“We’re not married!”

“We will be.”

You froze.

William took your silence as an opportunity. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, turning his head slightly as his hand rested on the back of your head. You were caught off guard but didn’t try to push away. It felt so nice, and warm and inviting. Why you were denying yourself this? Why were you denying yourself love?

When your lips parted, a string of saliva connecting you both, you placed your hands on his chest. You had an idea. A brilliant idea. Why hadn’t you thought of this before? “William. I still have to go, but — ”

He growled and lifted you up, carrying you over to his bedroom, tossing you onto the bed, and pinning you down on the mattress. “No. I won’t let you. I won’t let you! Don’t you understand? I’m perfect for you — I can — I can.” He looked miserable. In fact, he looked like he was about to cry. “Let me show you,” he said, determined. He started unbuckling his belt with one hand. “Let me show you what I can do.”

You hadn’t realized how hard William was, but when he finally took out his cock — fat and pale, with pre-cum leaking at the tip, his balls a little hairy, you gulped, the area between your legs getting wetter.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered. “And lift up that damn dress.”

You didn’t. To be honest, you were a little frightened by his behavior.

William sighed and did it for you, spreading your legs apart, only for you to shut them close. “You don’t even have a condom!”

“I’ll put out,” he said impatiently, forcing your legs apart again. You gasped, not expecting contact to be made so soon.

He rubbed his cock against your wet cunt, soaking himself. He had this satisfied smile on his face, eyes closed for just a moment, before he looked down at you.

“I thought I’d have to warm you up a little,” he said. “You’re beau — stop it! Don’t struggle.”

He held your arms down as you writhed. “Please, William — I believe you,” you said. “You can fuck me good. Just listen — ”

William shook his head. “You’re the one who's supposed to listen. Listen and take it.”

With that, he pushed his cock in and started thrusting, hard and fast, your hands still pinned, his face contorted in pleasure. His moans were loud and shameless. He had his head right above yours, peppering small kisses on your lips. You tried to ignore how good it felt — him inside of you, but it was becoming increasingly difficult by the moment.

“Ah, I knew you weren’t a virgin,” he said, noticing the lack of blood or discomfort. “That’s okay — I still love you.”

“Love?” you repeated, trying to focus, but your abilities were lost when he used his thumb to rub your clit. “Wa-a-it!”

“Don’t say that,” William said, his tone surprisingly soft given how rough his movements were. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought you didn’t want it. Just enjoy. Enjoy me.”

The bed was starting to creak, moving back and forth, rubbing up against the wood floor. Your breasts were bouncing, catching William’s eyes every once in a while. His cock slid in and out of you with precision, hitting that swollen part inside of you every time. His thumb on your clit only added to the intense sensation.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you stopped struggling. You let your head hit the pillow, mouth parted, breathing heavy and hot. At the same time, you were overcome with a feeling of hurt. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it, but for him to take you so forcibly . . . and for you to actually like it . . .

“Are you alright?” he asked, slowing down his pace a little. He looked you in the eyes. “Do you feel good?”

You thought about lying, about crying out No, please stop!, but that wasn’t the truth, and in the end, your desires overcame you. “Y-yes. I want more.”

William relaxed, and his grip on you loosened. He placed one hand on your hip, the other by the side of your head.

“You’re beautiful,” he praised. “Every day I look at you and think of how grateful I am that I found you. Laying there in that field, little flowers around you. An angel. My angel.”

You wanted to tell him how grateful you were, too. That it was him who took you in and not someone else, but the words never came out, only sighs and moans, but he seemed to understand what you were trying to say.

Another kiss.

“You’re soaking me. You’re soaking the sheets.”

A little embarrassed, you turned your head. “M’sorry.”

William forced you to look back at him. “Don’t be sorry. I like knowing how eager you are for me.”

Another kiss, but this time he slipped his tongue in, sweeping against yours before he pulled away, a string of saliva breaking as he did.

“We’ll live here,” he continued, his thrusts becoming more erratic, “in this house. Together. I’ll take you to the movies, we’ll have picnics in the garden, and I’ll write you love songs on the piano. We’ll have children — a girl, I hope — and she’ll look just like you. It’ll be wonderful,” he promised. “I’ll make you so happy, and you’ll make me happy, too.”

You couldn’t help but ruin the moment. “If I did that I would never see my parents again.”

He frowned and didn’t say anything. Then, “I think you’re getting agitated. You need to come, that’s it. You need to come and then you’ll finally understand what it is you’ll be missing out on if you leave.”

“T-that’s not the point — ”

“ — I’m so close,” he murmured. “Fill you up, so damn tight. Ah, you’re perfect.”

When you realized what he meant your eyes widened and you shook your head adamantly. “You said you’d pull out!”

“That was before. I’ve changed my mind.”

You felt familiar pressure build up inside of you. You could imagine yourself, breasts big with milk, belly round and smooth, William reading children’s books to your unborn baby as if he could be heard. The thought alone made you sickly sweet, the idea that life between you and him could be so domestic.

But couldn’t he just wait for a moment?

“I’ll — ah — be with you — every step of the way,” he grunted. “I won’t leave you. So, don’t be scared.”

“William,” you said shakily. “Just listen — ”

But it was too late. Collapsing on top of you, William poured his hot seed inside your cunt, his whimper addicting, like it was something you could hear a thousand times over. A few seconds later, you fell victim to the same fate, and there you two lay, with each other, chests heaving, bodies sweaty and sticky, coming down from the heights of ecstasy.

You could feel his heart pound against yours. Thump, thump, thump. And you could feel yours as well. To think that this man had just gotten you pregnant. It all happened so quickly. It happened so quickly and you were completely fine with it.

“William,” you said after finally catching your breath, turning to face him. “You know I still have to go.”

It was his turn to cry. His tears watered up, glassy, his lower lip trembling, but you could tell he was doing his best to keep it in. “But I love you,” he whispered. “Am I not enough?”

It broke your heart to see him like this. So vulnerable in front of you. It was then you knew you were making the right choice, a hundred percent. You had finally found your match. And to think that you almost let him go . . .

“But I want you to come with me,” you said, hopeful. “Come with me, William. Come with me to the future.”

Taglist: @henrywintersdearestgirl @shroombloom-rry @meetmeatyourworst @mrkdvidal1989 @madnessandobsession @slut4thebroken @qqquartz7 @madeinuk

#william killick #william killick x reader #william killick x you #william killick x y/n #cillian murphy #fanfiction #the edge of love #pinguwrites

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deadlyangelofpurity · 4 months

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I'm being honest here, Viv more or less played herself by setting her shows in Hell because not only can she not handle these topics, but her writing style and unwillingness to commit to the bit she created only caused the problems down the line.

Not only did Helluva stray from it's dark comedy assassin premise to a weird soap opera yoai fic, but the longer these shows go on, the more the pointless the setting feels. The setting is not Hell, it's just Detroit with furries and red people and Heaven and Hell motifs thrown in.

It doesn't help Viv let's her favoritism for certain characters get in the way of the story. It's why Viv has been working backwards to try and salvage Stolitz and it's taking it's toll on the story. Stolas was originally meant to be a villain and it's obvious Viv is trying to backtrack this by shoving a fanfic tier backstory that clearly wasn't planned into the mix and changing Stolas's characterization to make him more likable on a whim rather than developing him properly. It seems Viv has a tendency of woobifying characters to a high degree and whilst Stolas is the most obvious example, Ozzie, Fizz and Lucifer can fall under this as they initially had a more antagonistic role only to be reduced to a goofy two shoes misunderstood bois. This show would've worked better on Earth because the Hell in the show is legit just Earth with an overabundance of red and furry people.

Seriously I think we have a serious problem with the writing when we're having lust demons give consent speeches. Seriously this show is for adults yet it feels like it's written for teens. I've read fanfiction with better writing than Viv's current stuff.

#hazbin critical #helluva boss critical #helluva criticism #hazbin critic #spindlehorse criticism #vivziepop critic #anti vivziepop #vivziepop critical #rant #anti hazbin hotel #vivzipop critical

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imaginetheonewith · 1 year

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The one where Y/N gets jealous

Pairing: Joey Tribbiani x f!reader

Warnings: none (I think)

Author's note: It was not easy to imagine reader in the "Friends" universe, but .. hey! I tried my best and I do hope you all enjoy it. The lack of fanfiction about this tv show is criminal x

Red.

That is all could see in front of you at this moment. But it was not the type of red that you see when you are in love and the world seems to suddenly become a better place.

Oh no, it was way worse than that. It was the bright crinkly red, which was currently barely covering the tall blonde’s chest from lustful eyes. Or more specifically Joey’s.

“You know”, Chandler’s voice sounded next to you, “If you keep staring at her for 30 more seconds her head may catch fire. Or preferably that tight, low-cut…”

Your head whipped towards him and he quickly raised his hands in defence.

“… shoes!”, he cleared his voice, while pointing aggressively towards the girl’s feet, “These tight, low-cut shoes! Burn them! Burn them!”

Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention back to the bar, where Joey was shamelessly flirting with his ex, Angela. She was a beautiful and lean part-time actress, with an amazing fashion style, and wild blond locks. She was also the only girl who managed to keep Joey in a relationship for more than a few weeks. 3 years, to be exact.

It was not a secret that you did not harbor any warm feelings toward her. Not only did she break your best friend’s heart, but she was also the only one of his girlfriends that managed to catch on to your feelings towards him and use any chance she got to remind you that you will always remain stuck in the friend zone. It was almost as if she enjoyed inflicting pain on people around her and seeing them suffer.

“I can’t believe he is still talking with her”, you groaned, clapping your hands on your tights, “Look at him laughing! What could she say that is so funny?”

You didn’t wait for a response, before turning towards Chandler and pulling the newspaper away from his hands.

“Sure, I was totally done reading that”, he fake-smiled at you while grabbing his cup of coffee. His sarcastic remark went right above your head, as you grabbed his hands and squeezed them in yours.

“Chandler, you are one of the most, most special and valuable people in my life!”

“Well, I do have this effect on people”, he winked at you, while getting himself in a more comfortable position. You smiled with tightly pressed lips, doing your stop any smart remark that was sitting at the end of your tongue.

“And I would do anything… well, almost anything for you. Because I believe that when I need your help, you will do the same for me and-“

“Is it by any chance my birthday today?”, he interrupted you with a suspicious glare and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “Because the Y/N I know is never, ever so nice, unless he wants something and-“

He paused for a second, his face falling with realization. He quickly pulled his hands away from you and pointed an accusing finger at your face.

“NO! Whatever is going in that pretty head of yours, I am not going to do it.”

Chandler tried to get from his seat, but you were quick to lay down and throw your legs over his, trapping him in his place.

“You didn’t even listen to me!”

“I don’t have to”, his words were mumbled through a fake smile and squinted eyes, “I already know what you are thinking. And I am not going to do it.”

You raised your eyebrow, challenging him:

“What I am thinking? Maybe I just want to show you how much I love you as a friend…”

“And also send me to the bar, so I can eavesdrop on Joey and Angela.”

“Damn, you’re good”, you mumbled under your breath, finally releasing your friend from your leg trap. Your head fell in your hands and you closed your eyes in a weak attempt to stop yourself from thinking about the couple just a few feet away from you.

There was no reason to feel like this. You knew Joey for over 6 years now and you’ve been best friends for just as long. You two became close almost immediately after Chandler introduced you to each other and much to everyone’s surprise, including yours, the actor never showed even a slight romantic interest towards you. On the other hand, you fell head over heels for him from the moment you met him. His charming smile, flirty jokes, and kind soul made you overlook all his bad qualities, and “red flags” Monica and Rachel warned you about. Sure, he did have a bit of a reputation with the ladies, but seeing how loyal was he toward his friends, you knew that he was capable of commitment.

He just needed to find his woman. His one true soulmate, who would love him and cherish him the way he deserves.

What wouldn’t you give to be this one woman?

“Hey”, Chandler tried to catch your attention, while his hands started rubbing small circles on your back, “It’s going to be okay.”

Besides Joey, Chandler was your second closest friend. Before he moved to his current apartment, he was briefly your roommate and with both of you being new to the city, it didn’t take long for you to form a strong bond. From being children of divorced couples to having a career in statistical analysis and not-so-lucky love life, you two lived almost identical lives. It was not a surprise you often found comfort in each other, knowing that there is no other person who can understand you better than him.

Just as you were leaning back towards Chandler’s shoulder, Joey jumped on the sofa next to you with a wide smile on his face.

“You won’t believe who I am having dinner with tonight!”

“Winona Ryder?”, Chandler tried to guess and you bit a smile. Joey on the other hand did not find the remark funny, rolling his eyes instead.

“Remember Angela? My ex-girlfriend? The one that I thought I am going to marry because we were dating for so long?”

“How could we forget her?”, you mumbled under your nose, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “She is very…. memorable.”

Joey eyed you with furrowed brows, his eyes stopping at your shoulder, where Chandler’s hand was still gently massaging you. He let out a scoff, before moving to his favorite chair next to the bar. He knew that you and Angela had a bit of a strained relationship in the past, but he was hoping that you would at least try to act excited for him, instead of being all cozy with his roommate.

“Wow”, he breathed out, “Still jealous, I see.”

His words made you freeze in place, your cup of coffee just millimeters from your lips. Chandler tensed next to you and while you could not see, you were sure he was mouthing something to Joey. You slammed your cup on the table and turned towards the actor, only to find him glaring at you.

“Excuse me?”

“Look, Y/N, I know you girls love to be competitive and compare to each other all the time…”, he stayed silenced for a second, his hands moving in slow circles in front of him as if it was helping him gather his thoughts quicker, “But there is no reason to feel that way towards Angela. You know you will always be my best friend. Nobody will change that.”

You let out a dry laugh, turning towards Chandler, who was watching the happening with wide eyes. He shook his head as a warning for you to not continue this conversation, but he quickly realized your mind was already set when you shook his arms away from you and stood from your place.

“Is this what you think? You think I feel threatened by Angela?”

“Well, I did not use exactly that word…”, Joey mumbled, trying his best to avoid your furious gaze. The regret of saying anything was already clear on his face. If he could turn back time by just a few minutes, he would’ve just kept his mouth shut and enjoyed a nice quiet afternoon with both of his closest friends.

You, on the other hand, were not about to let this go so easily. Jealous? Of Angela? Pffftttt. Pushing your hair behind your ears, you tried your best to keep your voice low and not startle all of Central Perk’s clients.

“Joey, as your best friend, I can assure you that not even a cell in my body feels threatened by that manipulative and sly snake.”

“Okay, you are just being mean now”, the feeling of regret quickly vanished and his eyes hardened in a glare, “What is your problem?”

Before you can even open your mouth to reply, Chandler jumped between both of you and raised his palms towards both yours and Joey’s mouth, preventing you from saying anything further.

“Ah, this is exactly how my parents were acting just before they got divorced”, he made a disgusted face when the memory flashed in front of his eyes. He turned towards Joey, “We are happy about you, Joey. All of us. But… you know… we all remember what Angela did to you.”

“She’s changed”, Joey whined with a high-pitched voice, earning another mocking laugh from you. This gesture immediately resulted in his features becoming serious once again, “You know what… I don’t care if you approve of Angela or not. I love her and I will not give her up. I know she is the one and we will be together… once she breaks up with Bob.”

“Bob?”, Chandler moved his hands away as if burned, “Who is Bob?”

Joey opened his mouth but then closed it again when he didn’t get the courage to say anything. For you, however, it was enough to confirm your suspicion.

“This is ridiculous!”, you groaned, “She has a boyfriend and she is still trying to get in bed with you. She is using you, Joey! I can’t even believe you are agreeing to take her out on dinner!”

“It’s not like I am taking only her. I am taking Bob as well!”

“Oh, that’s great. So all three of you can be one big happy… throuple.”, you grabbed your coffee cup and matched towards the bar, where Gunther was not even trying to hide his interest towards your argument.

“I don’t mean I am going to go out with both of them”, Joey argued, looking at Chandler to check if he agrees, “You don’t think I am trying to get both of them, right?”

Chandler just shrugged his shoulders in response, too scared to get any more involved.

“I am going to ask Monica to come with me, so it’s like a double date. That way I keep Angela for myself and Monica can keep Bob.”

“Monica?”, the name fell as a surprised yell from your lips, “Why not me?”

Joey let out a scoff as if you were asking the stupidest question he ever heard, “Well, you and Angela do not get along well… And also I don’t think Bob is going to be your type.”

The last sentence made you raise your eyebrows and you crossed your arms in front of your chest. A tiny voice inside your head was telling you to not dwell on his remark and leave instead before you do something that can ruin your friendship forever. However, your bruised ego could not handle Joey having the last word in this.

“What do you even know about “my type”? For all you know, Bob may be exactly the man of my dreams.”

“Yeah, right”, he laughed under his nose, directing his attention toward the sandwich Gunther just brought, “The guy is a dog food tester. How can that be your soulmate?”

“Well once I thought my soulmate is always an out-of-job actor”, you stomped towards the coat hanger, grabbing your coat and purse, “So how much worse can a dog tester be?”

Without sparing even a glance towards them, you made your way outside, ignoring Chandler’s calls. You didn’t know where you were going or what were you going to do. All you knew is you just need to be alone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days passed since your and Joey’s argument and you have not seen each other since. Despite your friends telling you it is valid to feel the way you feel, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about the way you reacted. It was unreasonable to expect that he would not pursue a woman he clearly had feelings for, just because of your opinion of her. You wanted him to be happy, even if it was with someone who was not you.

Still, it hurt. Not only the idea of him being to another woman but also the fact that you certainly ruined your friendship. You did not realize what slipped past your lips before you left the coffee shop that day till Chandler came to your apartment later and informed you of the talk he and Joey just had.

The actor did hear you and did put two and two together “surprisingly quickly”, as Chandler described it, which lead to a big argument between the two. On one hand, Joey thought it was unacceptable that you kept this secret for so long from him, instead of just talking. On the other hand, Chandler thought he was judging you unfairly and was unhappy with the fact that Joey still went ahead with the date with Angela.

It seemed that everyone heard about what happened the same day, as later that night Rachel, Ross, and Phoebe all showed up with some Chinese takeaway and five boxes of ice cream. You appreciate that they all showed up for you, but you could not shake away the tight feeling of anxiousness in your chest. You needed to know how the date went and if Joey and Angela were back together, and the only way to find out was to speak to Monica.

Now, finally being the weekend, both of you were off work and eager to catch up with each other. Sitting on the floor in her living room, you ate homemade biscuit cake and spilled gossip about the events from the past week.

“I would’ve never agreed to go with him if I knew all the details” Monica exclaimed, “He told me they were siblings. And I did believe him, till I saw her tongue in his ear. It was disgusting!”

You choked a laugh and quickly covered your mouth, trying to keep the food inside. Apparently, Joey told Monica Bob was Angela’s brother in order to convince her to go on a double date with them. And while they did manage to break the “happy” couple and keep the pieces to themselves, Monica was far from impressed by Bob’s performance in bed and has decided to not see him anymore. Listening to her detailed story from that night, you could not judge her at all.

You finally swallowed your bite and were about to respond, when the door opened, and the man you least wanted to see came into the kitchen.

“Hey Monica, I know you said to not bother you tonight, but we have no beers left and… Y/N?!”

Joey froze in his place next to the fridge, his eyes dancing between you and the dark-haired woman. Monica has told them to stay away from her flat earlier, but he has just assumed she was having a date over. He definitely did not expect to see you.

“Y/N, um… What are you… uhm.. doing here?”, he shuttered and you had to bite your lip in order to stop a smile from spreading on your face. Flustered Joey was a rare, but cute sight.

You quickly jumped on your feet and grabbed your bag from the sofa, giving an awkward smile.

“I was just about to go, actually”, you turned towards Monica and pulled her into a hug, “I will catch up with you soon. Bye, Mon! Bye, Joey!”

You hurried towards the door without sparing your friends a second glance and were almost down the stairs when you heard heavy steps behind you and felt a hand pulling you back by your wrist. You stumbled back, almost losing your balance, before another hand wrapped around your shoulder in order to stable you.

You looked up only to come face-to-face with Joey, who was staring at you with wide eyes. He was so close his breaths were hitting your face like a warm breeze and almost closed your eyes, trying to save the feeling of closeness in your mind.

“Y/N…”, he whispered, “Listen, I…”

“Yes?”, you tried to push him to finish a sentence, eager to hear what he has to say. There were a million and one things you wanted to tell him, but how could you after you threw away years of friendship in just a few seconds of pure rage? You were simply not ready to talk about it yet.

But did not stop you from trying to hear what he has to say.

“I made a mistake. I should have never gone out with Angela.”

There was a skip of your hearbeat. Were you dreaming? You were sure you did get up from your bed morning, but then again the only times Joet was saying the words 'mistake' and a girl's name in one sentence it was in only in your imagination.

You furrowed your eyebrows and were ready to argue that the only person in this hallway who made a mistake was you, but before you can start talking, he pressed his finger to your lips, shushing you.

“No, let me finish”, he moved his hand away, “I have… I have prepared this speech for a while.”

He got silent for a minute, moving his eyes away from you and focusing on the floor instead.

“I have been in love with you pretty much since the day we met. Your smile, your wit, your beauty… I have never seen another woman like you. And I know you think I didn’t like you, because I’ve never made a move, but I was so scared… You know? And I was trying to forget you by seeking someone else, but I could never do it. All I ever wanted was you. Which hurt, because I knew that I will never be good enough for you and-“

His words were interrupted by your lips on his. A wave of electricity passed through your whole body and you could swear your feet became jelly. His arms circled your waist, pressing you against his hard chest.

It lasted only a few seconds before you both pulled away with wide eyes. With uneven breathing, you pressed your forehead against his, enjoying the warmth of his hands on your lower back. A small smile broke on your lips and Joey mirrored it.

“Wanna do it again?”, he asked, giving you a wink.

“Absolutely”, you whispered before catching his mouth with yours again.

#f.r.i.e.n.d.s #joey tribbiani #joey tribbiani imagine #joey tribbiani fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #writing #imagine #oneshot #scenario #friends fanfic #friends imagine #joey tribbiani x reader

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purplemoonabove · 3 months

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Chapter 14, Start of Something Right, Is Out!

#fanfiction update #achieve of our own #red shoes and the seven dwarfs #red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #ao3 #ao3 writer #it’s been over a month since I last posted #that’s a little sad but at least I didn’t give up #I just hate needing to find motivation to actually do the work you know?#I blame my job and comfort zone #ao3 link

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glorismorningstar · 6 months

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THE LION CHRONICLES

Pairings: girlfriend!Lute x f!reader, fatherfigure!Alastor x f!reader, motherfigure!Rosie x f!reader, siblings!Emily and Sera x f!reader

Summary: Y/N, older sister of Emily and younger sister of Sera, mysteriously disappears from Heaven. She is found by two quirky overlords, who give her a fresh new start. Meanwhile, those close to her mistake her for dead.

A/N: this is just many thoughts put together, this would be the first time I'm making a serious project with fanfiction, so it could take me a while to get the hang of it :3

Warnings: mentions of sex, grief, canon-typical violence, WLW, eventual smut (probably), angst, daddy issues, mommy issues, approval seeking

| OPENING // PART 1 |

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

They said I'm a traitor.

Maybe I am. All I know is that I did what I had to do.

I was raised to know that falling from grace was the worst thing that could ever happen to an angel. In my eyes, that was another of the multitude of lies I'd been told. The worst thing that happened to me wasn't falling, it was never seeing my sisters, my love or my home again. To never walk on the fluffy clouds. To be unable to protect Emily. To leave Sera to deal with responsibilities on her own. To never feel Lute's skin against my own.

What was true, however, was that falling was the most painful thing an angel could experience. The excruciating pain of my wings being torn off my back, the horror of seeing the six feathery stumps on the ground, golden blood spattered everywhere I turned my gaze, the agony of my halo being snapped, the tumble through the portal and the crash with the stony street of wherever I had stumbled upon.

Two people approached me as I laid stranded on the ground. Their shoes were right in front of my nose: one pair was black, red at the toes and above the ankles, the shape accommodated to hoof-like feet; the other pair was all black, a black and red striped gown draped over them. My blurry vision could just make out spots of colour and the lady's feminine appearance, while the one with hooves was more difficult to distinguish in the moment, but it was at best an effeminate man.

"A fallen angel?" A radio-filtered voice spoke right before I blacked out.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Look who's up!"

I opened my eyes, finally seeing more clearly than before. I was lying on my stomach on a red-pink couch and weakly lifted my head to look at what I could: the room was of hues of red, pink and boysenberry, a somewhat pleasing palette for Hell. I rolled on my back to get a better look around but the pain that radiated from my shoulder blades stabbed me again, making me cry out and sit up, leaning my shoulder on the couch. I could feel that the tiny stumps that were left of my wings were bandaged with gauze, the difficult tying of the material limiting the movement of my arms.

"Be careful with those, darling, don't push yourself." The lady from before spoke, seated on the bed in front of the couch.

"Thank you for rescuing me, Miss...?" I trailed off.

"Rosie, darling. Welcome to Cannibal Town." She introduced herself with a smile. She seemed quite lovely, almost motherly with the way she spoke.

"Cannibal Town?" The notion made me a little uncomfortable, but if she wanted to hurt me, she'd have done so already.

"Don't worry, dear, no one's out to eat you," the voice from before spoke, the man with the hooves, I guessed. "Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure!"

This Alastor seemed like a quirky fellow: his never-ending smile, his moxie, his mannerisms and his radio-like voice, to name a few, were quite charming, but at the same time off-putting. I didn't know whether he was to be trusted or not, but he did save my life along with Rosie.

"The pleasure is all mine, sir." I replied with a weak smile and a small nod.

"Now, tell us, however did we stumble upon Sera and Emily's kindred in such an unbelievably unpleasant condition?" Alastor asked. The names of my sisters sent chills down my spine. I wondered what they were even thinking of me, their own sister, vanishing like that. What if they thought I died? Or worse... what if they thought I left them? That I didn't love them anymore and found a better way to live? And what if Lute thought that?

My breathing quivered and my eyes brimmed with tears at the mere thought. I sniffed quietly and began telling them what happened, voice thick with tears. "Sera approved the extermination. It's disgusting, it's inhumane, it's hypocritical... I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let Emily find out about such a thing. I couldn't let Lute get involved in such danger... and for what? I know she can handle herself, but I couldn't risk losing her... and Emily's far too innocent know. I- I tried to stop it, I tried to make peace, but what I got instead..."

"Oh, you poor darling..." Rosie frowned and sat beside me, patting my head with affection, and I couldn't help but lean into her touch.

"Say, let's keep your... old titles a secret, dear Y/N, hmm?" Alastor said with an exaggerated tilt of the head, his neck emitting a loud crack with the motion. The noise made me flinch, but the fact that he seemed to be perfectly fine only added to my wonder and curiosity about him.

"Yes, sir." I agreed, looking down at my torn-up gown littered with clumps of feathers.

"To do that, you need a new look, darling." Rosie smiled, to which Alastor agreed with enthusiasm.

"Indeed you do, my dear!" He said and paced back and forth in front of the couch, examining my figure. He seemed to disapprove of the tousled hair, ripped angelic gown, gashes and stumps. "You need new clothes, a fresh new start, and- oh! Animal ears!"

"Animal ears?" I ask with a confused tilt of my head.

"Yes, darling. It's already hard to hide your glow, dim as it may be, and your wings are still a little visible on your back. You need a little something to redirect focus," Rosie explained, resting her chin on her hand. "I bet a nice purple will look great on you."

"Hmm, agreed." Alastor quipped and snapped his fingers. In a heartbeat, the gauze and wounds were gone, replaced by a bright purple striped dress suit, a white shirt, a black and purple bow tie and a darker cloak draped over my shoulders. I was still weak from the fall, but the pain was gone and the look made me feel a little better.

I got up and looked at my reflection in the mirror, a small smile spreading on my lips at the sight. Perhaps it wouldn't be that bad here. "You look stunning, darling."

"Thank you, Rosie." I smiled.

"We're not done yet, my dear," Alastor snapped his fingers again, another beam of light flashing around me. "There we are. Perfect."

I opened my eyes and gasped softly at the reflection in the mirror: fluffy golden lion ears twitched atop my head, the tiniest rebellious mane sprouting from between them; a long tail curled and swayed back and forth from under my spine, fuzzy brown tip flicking idly. "A lion?"

"Indeed, dear child. The lion has been a symbol of courage, dignity and nobility for centuries. All qualities that fit you like a puzzle." Alastor encouraged, tapping my back with the back of his cane to correct my posture.

"What about me says courage, dignity and nobility?" I asked, ears drooping with sadness as I gazed up at him with a small frown. A fallen Seraphim, alone and damned forever could never be worthy of such appellations.

"Ha, ha, my dear child, you attempted to stop the extermination-" he began.

"And failed..." I interrupted with a soft sigh.

"Failure is the greatest teacher, Y/N. However much it hurts, what you can do is run from the consequences or face them and learn from them." Rosie spoke with a gentle smile. The feeling of approval, of being guided was so foreign, yet so warm and incredibly welcome. What she said made me think, I had never looked at it that way.

"Nevertheless, you stood up against something you deemed incorrect and you bore the title of Second High Seraphim with class," Alastor continued, tapping the bottom of my chin with his cane. "Walk with your head high, as if you still own your title."

I look at my reflection in the mirror and smile, my new fangs sparkling with cleanliness. Whereas before I saw a broken princess, a gangrenous limb that had been deemed infectious and severed from the organism, now I saw a woman with elegance and panache, the feline traits accentuating the good of my character. There was my new philosophy.

Courage, dignity, nobility.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Lute had spent the entire afternoon combing through the denizens of Heaven to look for you. Her and Adam had split up to find you, and had had no luck. She hadn't tried asking your sisters yet, they must know where you are better than her, surely. Ever since Lute had made her relationship with you official, she had become a part of the family, treated like your consort.

"Your Highnesses, forgive me, but have you heard from Y/N?" She asked the two sisters.

"No. She was supposed to be here hours ago." Sera said, anxiously placing back and forth, throwing an occasional glance out the window for news.

"We were hoping you had." Emily spoke, approaching the taller soldier. She was trying to keep up morale for Sera, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so.

"No, I wish," Lute ran a hand through her hair, letting out a small sigh. If something were to happen to you, she didn't know what she'd do. "She spent the night before she left, she only told me she'd be back by noon."

"We'll find her. Don't worry." Emily offered with a soft, reassuring smile.

Before Lute could say anything else, a frantic knock on the door brought the women's attention to the matter at hand. Sera and Emily scrambled forward while Lute rushed to open the door, met with Adam's solemn gaze. When she saw the look on his face, she felt something eating her stomach from the inside. In all the time the three of them had known Adam, they had never seen him out of his obnoxious, conceited character.

"Sir? News?" Lute asked, the suspense so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Adam opened his mouth to speak, debating how to say the words, then closed it and sighed, handing a piece of a broken object to Lute and one to Sera.

Y/N's halo.

Sera cried out, the anguish in her sobs palpable as she dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands. "No!"

"Adam, it can't be true...! She- she has to be out there somewhere!" Emily pleaded, trying to convince herself of what she was saying rather that everyone else.

"We found this outside the gates. It was in a pool of angelic blood with a clump of her feathers," he sighed, looking at the ground and closing his eyes. "I'm really sorry."

The eldest Seraphim felt her stomach dropping to her feet. She had failed to protect her own sister from this. Her gut-wrenching cries were difficult to hear, especially for Emily. The young Seraphim gently pried the halo from Sera's hand and held it in her own, trembling as her sister's blood stained her fingertips. The sobs racked her body as she clung to her older sister, the only one she had left.

Lute's airway felt like it was closing up. Whatever could you have done to deserve such a fate? The last time she had seen you was when you left her place to go to the meeting. The night before she had laid with you, spent feverish hours making passionate love to you. If only she had known, she never would have stopped. She never would have let go.

When Adam noticed her hyperventilating, he tentatively rested a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. However, Lute shrugged off his touch and slammed the doors open, flying away with a choked sob while holding the chunk of bloodstained halo in her hand.

Her black and white wings flapped with reckless abandon, carrying her to a quiet, isolated corner where she could think. Sobs of agony racked through her during the flight, bloodshot eyes blurring with ugly tears as she reached a lonely building and landed on the rooftop. Lute dropped to her knees and held the piece of you in her hand, resting her forehead against the object while her breath trembled and stuttered. Her other hand buried itself in her pristine white hair and she screamed her throat raw. She screamed for the love of her life, for her grief, for her anger. For never getting to see your face again, to kiss you, to hold you, to feel you. Because she'd lost who she was fighting for.

And all because of sinners.

Filthy demon scum had taken away her reason to live.

A low growl rumbled from her burning throat as her grip tightened around the halo, knuckles going white with the force. The thought of some disgusting unholy creature even breathing the same air as you made her blood boil.

In that moment, she vowed to do whatever it took to avenge you.

Starting with the extermination.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel lute x reader #hazbin lute #hazbin emily #haznin sera #hazbin alastor #hazbin rosie #hazbin hotel rosie x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel emily x reader #hazbin hotel sera #lute x reader #the lion chronicles

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saintescuderia · 6 months

Text

pancakes (pt. 3)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: don't come for me. i love daniel. it's all for plot. (also, if the timeline seems odd it’s bc creative liberties have been taken 😌)

P3 - stairmaster endurance

As you walked down the steps to the Drivers Gala in your stunning red dress, you were unaware how one Ferrari driver couldn’t take his eyes off you. Looking at you smiling elegantly to one of the reps who greeted you, Charles realised just how much of a mistake he had made. Carlos was at his side, saying something that was back ground noise. All Charles could focus on was you. Your flowing hair, your eyes glinting in the light as you smiled your beautiful smile at whoever was talking to you. You always spoke with such passion. Charles always loved that about you. He would always love every little thing about you—

The alarm went off.

You blinked and stopped the timer notification that essentially shook you out of the deep rabbit hole of F1 fanfiction you had found yourself falling into. Closing the purple app, you wondered why you still remained on Tumblr even after the 2013 hype of it died and everyone shifted to Twitter. Let alone the fact that your Tumblr had become your closeted way to fangirl about the sport you had dedicated your life to.

Then again, what were you to expect? The algorithm clearly picked up on your interests. That or the government was listening in and knew that Formula 1 was your day-to-day. That would explain how, one day, you were simply scrolling through the random, niche memes and BAM! You were met with the completely random gif-set of Arthur Leclerc and Oscar Piastri sat in an interview for Prema.

It had caught you off guard, seeing that come up on your phone screen. It had also been a while since you had seen Arthur. For the whole duration of that single and endless moment, you didn't know how to react.

So your thumb double tapped the screen.

And maybe it was your fault for liking it, for encouraging the algorithm. But you could’t help but smile at the gif of Arthur confident and proud of his 18 hour screen time. That boy had no filter and never gave a fuck about the social norm. That and he often just didn’t read the room. Even after all these years, and his climb up the motorsport ladders, that youthful element about him had remained. It made you smile. You always liked that about him.

However, with that gif-set came more stuff. Innocent stuff. More F2 bits - you really missed those boys - and then everything else. Funny bits of Max at Red Bull. Carlos and Lando. All the Guenther Steiner moments. It was a little weird to be liking gifs of a team principal, you were well aware, but if anything it just made you feel proud of how far the German-Italian had come.

Back in the old Red Bull days, Guenther would always tell you about his dreams of directing his own team. It was nice to see him finally achieve that. It was also an endless source of amusement for you.

For example: the day Kevin had shattered the door.

When it happened, though, it was definitely not a laughing matter. You had been just finishing up the lunch service at the Haas motorhome - making sure to pack up some food for the drivers and mechanics who still were in a meeting - when you had heard the loud noise. Mack, the sous-chef, had stopped and looked at you with wide eyes.

You had both exited the kitchen to walk out to the main space of the motorhome and see other Haas employees equally as confused and whispering. Not getting a clear answer, you patted Mack on the shoulder and returned to the kitchen to finish plating up Kevin and Romain’s lunch for later.

Fifteen minutes later, however, and you had gotten your answer when Guenther stormed into the kitchen fuming. “He does not slam my fucking office door! What am I going to do? Call Gene and tell him his drivers are some fucking idiot babies?!”

You had simply stared at him, blinkingly.

Guenther had then spied a plate of food sitting on the bench. “That fucking driver doesn’t deserve any of your fucking food!” And he picked the plate and dumped plate with its contents in the bin.

“Guenther," you had began in a calm voice, "that was my lunch. Kevin’s plate is in the fridge.”

“Well eat his fucking food! Or—" Guenther reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card and slammed it onto the table in front of you. “Go to a fucking five star hotel and have lunch there on that fucking idiot baby's pay.”

And the two of you had actually done so.

Even after he calmed down, Guenther had been adamant to take you to lunch which, admittedly, wasn't the most odd thing ever. Guenther was removed enough from all the driver drama and you had known him a for long time. You were the reason he had helped in the debut in 2016 anyway.

Still, no matter how Guenther Guenther was, Kevin was still a driver. You knew how it might look.

Said driver, however, had thankfully just dismissed it when you offered to pay him back. "Make me those mini pizzas next time you're with us and we're good."

And so when you clocked on this morning to see you were covering Haas, you immediately smiled and went to make good on your promise to K-Mag.

You always loved working in the Haas motorhome. If only half the stuff you saw Guenther did and said ended up in gif-sets on Tumblr.

Pushing yourself off the stool, you pocketed your phone and grabbed the oven mitts to pull out the mini pizzas. You had made extra for the engineers since there was an issue with Nico’s PU and knew they would be up late working on the engine. It wasn’t a secret that your pizzas were a coveted snack, being low-carb and high protein enough for even the drivers to consume. You were half expecting Fred Vasseur to pop in and steal some. He did love these pizzas. Any time you were stationed at Alfa Romeo, it was a guarantee you would be making them at his request.

Though, now Fred was moving to Ferrari. So you weren't sure if he was still going to be nice to you. Mattia Binotto had always treated you like the fucking plague.

"Ah, Y/N. For fuck's sake!" You heard the German accent and felt your mouth curve up into a smile as Guenther arrived on scene. He was dressed in the Haas gear for 2023, lanyard around his neck. "You still here running the coffee when you can beat any of these idiots in the car."

You gave him a fake two finger salute. "If I drove, no one would stand a chance."

"Well maybe you could help us score some fucking points." Guenther said. Immediately, he got down to business. "Harry Kane did well last night. Scored two fucking goals."

You snorted. One of the many reasons you and Guenther bonded so well was that you one of the few people amongst this Paddock that took football seriously. Almost as seriously as Formula 1. Almost.

"Didn't see it." You said, shaking your head. Bundesliga was lower on your list of priorities when it came to games. You only paid attention to the German league when it came to teams making it into Champions League. Besides, Guenther should’ve known what game you were watching last night. Still, you reminded him. "The Reds were playing."

He rolled his eyes, though unsurprised. "Of course you're going to watch English fucking football."

"Hey, only because of Salah.” You reminded him and hit your chest proudly, “I gotta represent."

"That much is fucking obvious." Guenther said. One of the many reasons you liked working in Haas so much was that it was by far the most relaxed garage out of them all. For example, you hadn't yet taken off the hoodie you wore which had, on top, the number 10 Liverpool jersey. It looked unprofessional, having a t-shirt over a jumper like that, especially mixed with the headscarf you had tied on your head like a durag, but Guenther couldn’t care less. If anything, he was probably just offended at your choice of EPL team.

“United is fucking Red.”

"Ah, Guenther. You know my heart really lies." You reminded him.

Your uncle, with his love for football, had brought you up following the iconic Real Madrid. He literally visited the hospital with a teddy bear and Bernabeu membership, adamant he would get his newborn niece into the sport. No matter what.

From the moment he found out your number one team, Guenther was salty. “Los Blancos.” He scoffed. “The fucking villains of football." He came round to see the circular pieces of bread covered with sauce and an array of different toppings. Guenther picked one up - and immediately dropped it. "Fuck!"

"It's hot." You said, dryly. You took out another tray and set it down. You closed the oven door and turned it off. You flipped the towel over your shoulder as you watched Guenther now at the sink, running water over his burnt fingers.

"You don't fucking say." Guenther blowing on his fingers.

“Stop being a baby.” You laughed, bringing up your hands to your head to fix your headscarf.

Guenther ignored that comment. "Fred fucking loves these things. Don't tell him you made them. I don't want him in here stealing them."

You said nothing and turned around to pretend to busy yourself with the trays of mini pizzas. It was best to just remain quiet sometimes. Bahrain testing had kept everyone occupied and at that start of the season F1 Hospitality were usually running around after Stefano Domenicali and the FIA Co. for last minute set up. It was only into the race calendar that Hospitality were eventually went around to the teams.

So, no. You hadn't seen Fred. You hadn't seen anyone. You were just grateful that your first race of 2023 was in the safety of Haas. Nico and Kevin were older and, therefore, a little more out of it when it came to driver drama. If they knew anything, they were old enough to be mature about it.

Though, that couldn't be the same of others from their generation. You were already losing sleep from the feelings that arose from seeing Daniel in Red Bull gear. It didn't help that the last time you two had spoken, things hadn't exactly been civil.

You were on the stair-master. The clock on the machine read 37:48. The sweat was dripping off you.

Your grey jumper had darkened in shades, wet from the sweat. You kept your hands on your head as you stepped and stepped and stepped and stepped. Angsty rap music blasted into your ears. Tinnitus was likely to worsen, but you would take that over the shit storm that was currently breaking all over the Paddock.

I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press statement late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. This is wrong and I have not signed a contract for Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year.

Oscar hadn’t even yet joined Formula 1 and he was already stirring trouble. That was a problem. For you. You were supposed to lay low. The whole point of this was to lay low and not drawing any attention to yourself. The agreement was that you could still be there if only in the role of Hospitality.

And the idiot had tweeted that and then, ten minutes later, decided to follow you.

How he even found your Twitter was surprising? It wasn’t very personal - your profile picture was solid black - so no fans would be able to recognise you. But the Paddock? The FIA and your bosses? They were raising confused eyebrows that Oscar Piastri would drop that bomb and then follow you.

You could already imagine what Otmar was going to say. God, the 2023 season hadn’t fully started and you were already dreading walking into the Alpine home. And then Jos Verstappen was rumoured to be attending more races this year and who could forget about Daniel coming back to Red Bull? The universe apparently needed to give you some character development, it seemed.

Your legs ached, begging to stop. Your mind thought about pressing the red emergency button, to just end it. But you knew better. You knew this was all a mind game. Pain is an allusion. Keep going. Shit hurts but you push through. Keep going. Keep going. Keep fucking going. It's what you always told yourself. It's how you got yourself through everything. It's how you'll get through all of this. If you can push through the pain of the stairmaster, then you can push through the pain of anything. You had learned that pain was temporary and it was just a mind-game. You could always go longer than you thought possible. You just had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. So, right now, it was just practice. Each step you took right now was practicing the endurance of pain from this stairmaster fucking filling your legs. If you could get through this, you would be able to handle any drama in the future.

Unfortunately, drama walked through the door before you could make it through the current pain of said stairmaster.

Daniel Ricciardo stormed into the Driver’s Only Gym, knowing all too well that this was where you would be. He had been the one to tell you about this fucking place in the first place. Before everything, you had always loved working out and exercise was part of the reason you two ended up as you did. Now, you didn’t have the luxury you did before. You didn’t have the lanyard.

So, now, you had to workout in the shadows.

That didn't mean Daniel didn't see you. Didn't hear you. Didn't know what you were doing every single day of every weekend the both of you avoided each other at the Paddock. He knew you still wore your sneakers according to the race location. He knew you still wore headscarves when in the Middle East and covered your tattoos when in Japan. He knew you still avoided Charles just he like he knew you still avoided him. He knew you.

So Daniel knew you woke up at 4am every day to work out. And after Zak Brown told him the news, he spent the night dealing with his spiralling career through a bottle of Jack Daniels. Then he had the idea to come out from the four walls of his hotel room and see you.

Because Daniel knew you had made your pancakes for the rookie, that fucking Oscar Piastri. And Daniel was one of the few people who knew, who fully understood just what that meant to you.

Drunk and emotional, Daniel planted himself right in front of the stair master. He stared at you, caught like a deer in headlights and got right to it.

“You must be fucking happy.”

It was the first time he had directly spoken to you in five years.

So it took you a second to process what was happening.

Daniel Ricciardo was right here, in front of you, at 4:50 in the morning as you sweated your body weight out through the repeated steps you took on the machine.

Suddenly you were aware that you had rolled yourself out of bed with a little less motivation than the norm. You had been extra tired, hitting snooze more than twice. You hadn’t washed your face and you wondered if Daniel would be able to spot the stain of egg yolk on your hoodie. It had been some time since he had been this close to you and you were in bike shorts and currently on a bulk. Suddenly, you wished you were on a cut. Why did the one time he came this close to you had to be so big and puffy?

"Excuse me?" You found yourself saying, shifting one headphone off your ear. “Can I help you?”

"Did you know?" Daniel asked. He didn't give you a chance to respond. "Of course you fucking did."

Without even thinking, you pulled the red plug your mind had obsessed over and jumped down. The pain was already here so there was no point going through any more than necessary. You looked up at Daniel, panting. He, too, was exhaling a little heavier than normal. Too angry and, judging by the smell of his breath, drunk to be stable.

There was no point lying to him. Aside from the fact that Daniel was emotionally charged (and drunk - and he got super passionate when he was drunk) you knew he would immediately pick up on it. You don't spend three years with someone and not know them like the back of your hand. And, unlike him, you can safely say that you hadn't really changed since 2018. If you lied, he would know.

"I signed a NDA, Daniel." You said simply, walking to your gym bag sat on the red bench. You picked up your bottle to take a sip, your throat dry. You tried to keep yourself calm and not shaky. Do my legs look too big? God, Please don’t let me smell like BO. Your thoughts were still running rampant. Despite the extensive cardio, your body was buzzing from the anxiety of having Daniel so close.

Daniel. To think you had once been so deeply in love with the man stood before you.

"Fuck off." He spat. You recoiled. "No one gives a shit about that."

"I do." You said, trying to keep your voice from growing small. "Sorry I care about my job."

Daniel let out a sardonic laugh. You braced yourself, knowing what was to come. You had experienced this many times before during your fights. "What? Making coffee and fucking washing the dishes? Yeah, great job you got there, babe."

"Don't call me babe." You spat back. "And can you not be a dick for two fucking seconds, Daniel."

You said it. His name. When was the last time you had said it? It made you both take a second to process what was happening, to acknowledge how long it had been since the two of you had actually spoken to one another, how long since you had addressed the other as a human being that actually existed.

In that moment, Daniel finally seemed to lose a bit of anger and, instead, show a glimmer of vulnerability. "I lost my seat. I don't know what I'm going to do."

You looked down at your shoes at show of helplessness. New Balance 350s. Red and yellow. They had been on sale. You liked them for stable LISS circuits but hated the colour way. Now, they were the most interesting thing to look at.

Everyone knew that Daniel Ricciardo was always all smiles and that, no matter what, he was optimistic. Happy. He never showed any weakness.

Except, you had seen him when the smiles fell away and the laughter died. In the safety of your private hotel rooms and Daniel could just be, you saw him vulnerable, you saw him hurt, you saw him stress, worry, cry, swear and be open to how he was really feeling. Like right now.

“Daniel I—“

"You didn’t even think to fucking tell me."

You looked up at the change of tone and how he was frowning-- no, sneering at you. This made you change and any remorse, any pity, you felt for the man in front of you immediately vanished. You weren’t in a hotel room. You were in the gym. And it had been five fucking years.

"Are you fucking blaming me right now?"You snapped back. "What the fuck do I owe you, exactly?"

"I’m the reason you’re here!"

By now, your heart was racing. And not from the exercise. This, this was it. You finally had your moment to say it.

"Yes, exactly, Daniel. You’re the reason that I am, as you said, making coffee and fucking washing the dishes! If it weren’t for you, we both know where I would be right now. But you got fucking scared of Max and blamed me for it!"

This hit a nerve. "I was not scared of Max! I outperformed Max!"

"Yes, on the weeks I fucking trained you!"

"Fuck me,” Daniel was shooting straight daggers at you despite the wry grin on his face, “do you really think that was all you?"

You put your hands on your hips and squared up to meet his eyes, narrowing your own. "Considering how your teammate took me on as a trainer and then became the number 1 driver, yes, I will take some fucking credit for that." Daniel's face dropped when you said it. And you knew it was a low blow, but you couldn't help the words before they tumbled out from your mouth. "The world’s fucking moved on from Monaco 2018. Maybe you should too."

"Fuck you!" He shouted.

"Fuck you!" You shouted back. You grabbed your phone and found yourself tapping onto a recent chat and speedily composing a text. You hated how your fingers shook. You also hated how you were texting for help.

"Well, clearly you haven’t moved on from Monaco if you’re bringing it up." Daniel said, no longer shouting, but his tone still as icily. "You’re going to be mad about that until the end of time?"

You closed your eyes and willed your eyes not to think of the image of him with her, the pain you felt walking in and seeing that. Instead, you opened your eyes and stared him dead in the eye and spoke as calmly as possible.

"Jos Verstappen will be coming to the races more often this year. That means I won't be able to work in the Red Bull garage. If I'm at AlphaTauri, do not fucking come."

Daniel ignored this, undeterred. Instead, he kept grinning down at you thinking he found something. "You seriously aren't over it, are you?"

"No, the memory of you putting your dick into another woman still keeps me up at night." You rolled your eyes despite how it still did admittedly hurt. You pretended it didn’t and hoped he believed it. "Please stop thinking so highly of yourself. Remind yourself of why you're here, right now, talking to me."

Daniel's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something but the sound of the doors opening had him closing it. You grabbed your gym bag and finally made a move to turn around and escape the gym.

Ignoring the looks of one very confused Carlos Sainz as you breezed past him.

"I have to go deal with idiots who can’t tell me what’s wrong with the engine." Guenther said. You had brought forth two plates and slide two pizzas onto each.

"Here. For you and Nico." You said, knowing Nico would join the meeting about his car. "I'll bring a tray in a little bit for the rest of the engineers."

"Make me and Nico some coffee, please." Guenther said, taking the plates. "And pour in some fucking whiskey." You laughed and watched him disappear down the hallway of the offices set up. Haas' lack of financial support meant their motorhome was mediocre at best. Still, you loved being here more than anywhere else. It was the safest, really.

Wiping your hands on the towel, you went outside to where the coffee cart was situated. Another example of Haas' lack of funding was needing a Formula One coffee cart and not having an in house machine like everyone else did. You went about preparing the coffees like how you knew Nico and Guenther liked - as well as making yourself one while you were at it.

"No Real Madrid today?"

You found yourself jumping at the familiar Spanish lilt of the other Ferrari driver. Carlos Sainz was someone you never really paid any close attention to. He wasn't close enough to either Daniel or Charles' circles to ever have been on your radar. He had left Red Bull before you did and since he was Ferrari associated, it meant you never really had much to do with him.

Still, he was pleasant and nice. He always had been. He was one of those drivers that if word had spread to him - and it was very likely that it had - he didn't show it. Or care enough about it. Any time Carlos saw you around the Paddock, it was with a warm smile and a quick small-talk question about your thoughts on Real Madrid's latest match. But that was really ever it.

Until that time he had walked in at 5am to see you and Daniel Ricciardo screaming at each other.

"Uh, no. Liverpool was playing yesterday." You said, wondering if he knew you also cared about the Scouse team. Admittedly, you didn’t have the same love for them as you did for the Spanish legends, but you couldn’t have Egyptian heritage and not care about Mo Salah.

"You're Egyptian, no?" He asked. You focused on frothing the milk, unable to really look him in the eyes so soon after this morning.

"Yes." It was there in the mix, yes, but you really weren't up for explaining the complicated heritage of your ethnicity this morning. Looking at the milk circling in the silver jug, you realised your face was heating up. You were slightly surprised he even knew you were Egyptian in the first place. Unlike with Guenther or the splattering of other football fans in the Paddock, you and Carlos only ever had brief snapshots of Real Madrid small talk.

Still, this wasn't an odd conversation, you had to remind yourself. You were talking about the one thing you and him ever talked about. But, again, this was after Carlos had walked in to see you, a Hospitality worker, arguing with a driver.

"Please don't tell anyone about me being in the gym." You finally said, turning off the frother to gently tap the metal jar against the bench and settle the bubbles in the milk. "I could get into a lot of trouble since it's only for drivers."

Carlos waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. When it was clear he wasn't going to, you breathed a small sigh of relief. But then he leaned against the cart and you felt yourself starting to get anxious again. There was a quiet moment for a second as your poured the latte for Nico. Carlos' eyes followed your hands.

"I will say something if Ricciardo upset you." He said in a quieter voice.

You immediately shook your head and finally looked him in the eye. "Please don't. There's enough complication with... everything." You finished lamely.

"So I've heard." Carlos said.

You looked away. He knew.

"So then you'll know I don't need anymore complications." You said through gritted teeth, hating very much the confirmation that word had spread about what had happened.

"You haven't done anything wrong, though."

This caught you by surprise. It was the first time anyone - or, at least, a driver - had said those words to you. At the start, everyone had immediately pointed fingers at you. You were shunned and blamed. Some saw your position with the Formula One Group as part of Hospitality too light a punishment for what had happened. For the longest time, it was the confusion as to why everyone had reacted that way that did that hurt you. You hadn’t thought you had done anything wrong. Not really. You struggled to understand why no one else saw it that way. Least of all any of the drivers that knew what had happened.

Hearing Carlos say that really threw you for a short second. Carlos even caught it. He said your name and you finally looked up at him when you heard him say your name.

"Sorry it’s just - uh, Carlos, man.” You laughed a dry laugh. “You're probably the only driver who thinks so."

"I'm not." Carlos crossed his arms. "I might be the only one who has said so, but if I've understood correctly... then I'm not."

You looked down at metal jug in your hand with the extra milk you had frothed for yourself. Suddenly, you didn't feel like any caffeine. Your anxiety was already through the roof.

"Do you want a coffee?" You asked, sounding, again, very lame as that was your response to Carlos' comment.

The Spaniard looked back down at the spoon and jug in your hands. He nodded. "Have you had one already?" You asked. He shook his head and so you went about pulling down another paper cup to make his piccolo.

"You remembered." He said, laughing slightly.

"First coffee is a piccolo. Second and third are black." You recalled his order. Carlos smiled at you as you poured the milk. "I know everyone's coffee orders."

You didn’t catch how his smile lessened slightly at that.

You looked back at him and tried to ignore the thought of whether his kindness was exaggerated for your sake. A pity thing or something. Carlos accepted the coffee and then he actually offered a thank you in Arabic. You found your lips turning up hearing the marhaba on his Spanish tongue. “Es un placer.” You came back with his own native language.

You don’t work in Formula 1 without picking up a few things here and there.

Hence how you could recognise the German swears that sounded from within the motorhome as Guenther suddenly appeared.

“Where is that Y/N? Liverpool fucking tops the league and thinks she can take her time with— ah, you Ferrari fuckers!” Both you and Carlos looked to where he had come up behind the driver and slapped a friendly pat on his back. “Tell Fred he can’t have any pizza.”

“Pizza?” Carlos asked and looked down at you. “You made your pizza?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before some Haas engineers appeared behind Guenther and called for you and him. Carlos took this as his sign - he was technically on Haas territory - and nodded at you and Guenther, holding up his piccolo in salute. Guenther had already taken the coffees you’d made for him and Nico and disappeared behind the sliding doors. You made a move to follow when Carlos called out.

"I want to try some famous Y/N pizza!” He said, turning on his heel as he walked backwards and called out to you.

You smiled and shook your head, walking back into the Haas home. You went back to the oven and set about plating up the pizzas to be a little more presentable to them. You also made sure to put some aside especially for Kevin. This was supposed to be for him.

You thought idly of saving some for Carlos when some Haas engineers you vaguely recognised walked past.

"Oh nice!" One engineer said, coming up and immediately reaching for one to stick it in his mouth. You watched him do the same blunder that Guenther did.

The other engineer, a woman with a thick Irish accent? was staring at you. Smug. "Damn, who got you smiling like that, missy?"

"What?" You asked, eyes going wide. You hadn't realised the wide smile on your face that was likely the direct result of one Carlo Sainz. Your face became hot again and it took every ounce of will to not seem affected by her words. “No one.”

"Mmm. If you say so.” She said in a sing song voice. “Well and me Mr Cool over here,” she gestured to the the other engineer trying to breathe through the hot pizza, “are heading to the garage now to see Kevin. Can we take them?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Go ahead."

"Not saving some for anyone?"

"No." You shook your head firmly. "Take them all."

< prev ch [2] | next ch [4] >

taglist:

@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3

@hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej

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chocsra · 1 year

Text

"I Can't Hear You, Speak Up!"

15! Chuuya x fem! reader

content: you stain your skirt and a certain mafioso comes to help you, swearing, periods/blood, fluff, pre-relationship, mutual pining, teenage romance

Reader is fem! mention of periods

based off a reddit story 😭

Please give some more ideas and characters for fanfiction, I love teen skk btw

12:13

It's been about 8 minutes since you left an important mafia meeting, excusing yourself to Boss to go to the washroom.

Yet now you stare at your bloodstained skirt and underwear, sighing to yourself in defeat. "No pads either.." You mutter, digging your palms into the luxurious marble sink in thought. Theoretically, you could tell Boss that something happened and you taught an underling a lesson while you were out, or you could be frank about your period; which was something really embarrassing considering you'd have to stop the meeting infront of a bunch of grown criminal men for hygiene products.

So you hid behind the ajar white bathroom door, calling out 'hello?'s and 'is someone there?'s everytime a gust of wind made the slightest creek. "11 minutes.." You leaned your head on the steel door, trying your best to cover your skirt.

Then you heard it.

A quiet murmuring coming from the hallway outside the bathroom, you sighed in relief and poked a leg out of the door; the shadows covering half of your face. There he was, Chuuya Nakahara walking around the hallways like there wasn't a highly significant meeting going on; he had a scowl on his face and his fists clenched like something had happened, muttering about 'killing that bastard'.

"Ahem." You cleared your throat, peeking out to the ginger boy, he spun around in mutliple possible directions the noise could have come from. "Huh?!" the short boy shouted, before locking his blue eyes with yours. "The hell? Aren't you supposed to be in the meeting?" He cocks a brow, folding his arms over his chest. Chuuya seemed to be all dressed up for the day, wearing his signature fedora, choker, white dress shirt and black slacks; but a new large raven overcoat that reached his ankles was loosely thrown over his shoulders, even a new silver hat chain.

"I need something from here, that's why." You purse your lips into a pout, crossing your arms behind the door. "Why are you here anyway?" You ask curiously, slowly easing into the topic, the stylish boy only scoffs with irritation. "Got kicked out, all cause of that fuckin' mackerel." Chuuya rolled his tongue across his inner cheek in annoyance, of course you knew who he was talking about; Dazai, his only friend, you think? You did see them attempting to act serious as they kicked each others leg under the table, maybe he deserved it.

"So then where's Dazai?" You question, tapping your shoe against the marble floor. "He got to stay because he was important, or some bullshit!!" Chuuya shouted again, gritting his teeth harshly. "Woah, calm down." You motion before pausing, "Can you just get a girl, please? Like Kouyou or something.. I don't know." you ask politely, a light blush tinting your cheeks; the redhead's eyes only furrow at your request. "I told you already, I got kicked out, Kouyou's inside. What do you need anyway? I'll just get it for you." He feigns a sigh, shoving his hands in his slacks pockets.

You inhale in annoyance, before stepping further into the washroom, "Nevermind, forget it." you dismiss, causing Chuuya to clench his fists even more. "Just tell me, damn it." He scowls in annoyance, before noticing the blush creeping on your cheeks, and the fact that you did not turn around once from facing him. It all clicked together. "Oh, uh-" The boy paused, red tinting his ears and nose. "You want that thing?" Chuuya asks, causing your eyes to light up at seemingly the only boy who knows what hygiene products are. "Yeah, that!"

He then fishes out something from his pocket and hands it to you, you were a little confused as to why he'd keep pads in his pocket, until he placed a silver safety pin in the palm of your hand. "What is this?" You ask with a blank, despairing face; Chuuya only blushes more at your reaction. "Your.. your skirt ripped, right?" He stammers, making you internally facepalm. "No, no.. pads." You whisper the last part awfully quiet, making Chuuya lean his ear closer to your face, his hands still in his pockets.

"What?" He asks, knitting his brows. "Pads, tampons.." You repeat again, motioning with your hands. "What the hell? Speak up!" The boy scowled, leaning even closer to your face, you almost wanted to push him from inching so close to the girl's bathroom; and the close proximity of his breath tickling your lips.

"Pads!"

You shout in his ear with a frown, Chuuya stepped back at the loud noise, now blushing profusely. "Oh shit, my bad- I just thought your skirt-" You cut him off, crossing your arms. "It's fine! Just please get them, damn.." You brush off with a scowl, seeing the boy scurry off to the hallway.

And after a few minutes of agonising silence, you hear loud shouting coming from Mori's office.

"You can't just go thru Rintarou's stuff!!" A high-pitched girl yelled.

Chuuya quickly hushed her, the loud sound of rummaging through drawers audible. "Shh, shh! He's gonna hear us, shit!"

"I don't care if he hears us! Just let me colour!!" Elise then countered, throwing what you assumed was a crayon at him.

The boy soon rushed to the bathroom with multiple types of pads in his hands; night, day, winged, super. "What the hell is winged?! Does it fly to you or somethin'?!" Chuuya yelled, making you laugh. "Did you really fight Elise for this?!" You laughed, taking them all from his hands. "Shut up!"

And as you finished thanking and mocking him, about to spin around and leave to a stall, he tapped your shoulder.

"Here, uhm.." The redhead took off his overcoat and draped it over your shoulders to cover the stain. A pink blush spread on his cheeks, you only did the same. "Thanks.." You grasp onto the coat, walking inside the stall.

And even as he waited for you to come out of the bathroom, walked you back to the meeting room, and parted ways with a meek wave and blush; you walk into the room with a big smile on your face, only seeing that the meeting was already empty and done.

Fuck.

Even so, it wasn't all that bad; even if the incident happened weeks ago, there would always be a certain redhead giving you a casual nod or wave if he saw you wandering the mafia's hallways or available in meetings.

It made you want to make him steal pads from Mori's office and give you his coat all over again.

Double fuck.

#Spotify #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #15 chuuya #bsd x reader #chuuya nakahara #15 light novel bsd #chuuya x reader #fem!reader

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panchatea · 6 months

Text

GREEN

#1 of 3 Colors Series.

TRIGGER WARNING is expected, proceed with caution

Dreamcatcher Fanfiction

6322 WORDS

chacha story commissions

It was cold light blue…

Really cold and these red mosquitos were everywhere feasting and leaving itchy marks on each arm and leg. It was crippling, it was dark, but at least it was quiet.

Finally quiet.

It was white.

A sweater or a hoodie would be quite useful right now, but there was no point, right? After all, it all doesn’t matter now, there was nothing to lose or gain anymore. Just take mindless steps… mindless heavy steps with no direction. Grab the gray asphalt underneath. Feel the cold, feel all of it…

Blink.

It was dark, yet it was bright.

It was white.

All of these blinding lights were everywhere from store signages and street lights. Countless lost red and yellow souls passing by each other, and not caring about one another. After all, people have their own problems to deal with.

Problems.

If only it were that simple, but it wasn't.

It never did.

Wish it was all monochrome but no, everything was bright, too bright to begin with, too colorful, too complicated, and there was no side ledge to stand on top off to. There was no compelling, pulling, and captivating clear dark blue body of water to drown in.

Not that everything wasn’t already drowning and suffocating.

All there was just darkness, this asphalt underneath, and all of these bright street lamps.

Just breathe.

It’s not that hard. It’s not that hard to just breathe.

Hard to breathe.

“You’re green.” That was what she said before grabbing onto your hand, without asking and pulling you away from these heavy mindless steps. She held tightly as every color blurred out, and each step kept getting lighter.

Run.

Her hand was soft, but she was gripping tightly and she was shaking as if… you looked at her. She was purple.

It was fast and blurry. All these colors mixed up and there was no clear path and all you could focus on was her. Her color oozed with purples and violets. Her blonde hair. That black sweater and gray skirt. And run to god knows where she would take you.

“What are you thinking about?” She yelled, still running.

“I don’t know…

Like maybe why are we running?

Who are you?

What are we even doing?

Aren’t you running out of breath?”

“Hey calm down, Green. Geez, you have too many questions.” She didn’t answer any of them.

“Are we lost?!” You yelled back.

You could just stop and let go of her hand but you didn’t. Why because for some reason…

“It’s okay, Green.” Once again her answer didn’t answer the question, but her words, felt like they meant something else.

Like it was okay to be lost.

“Why are you calling me Green?”

“Breathe.” She stopped. You both stopped.

“What’s that expression on your face?” She added.

“How about you? What are you so afraid of?”

Once again, she didn’t answer… She just looked at you while she caught her breath.

“You can see it, right?”

“I don't know what you are talking about.”

“The colors. Tell me what color I am?”

“You’re purple or violet… I don’t know, I don’t care. What does it even mean?”

She just laughed, loudly until it was all you could hear, breaking the whites, mixing in the dark.

“Can you just talk to me like a normal person!?” You shouted and she just looked surprised. She pouted but she didn’t say anything.

“Look, I’m sorry for yelling. I just, can’t deal with this right now. I don't have time for this.” You tried to walk away but her next words stopped you.

She was really pushy.

“I'm not normal, Green.” She laughed.

“You’re silly, you know.” She squatted looking at your toes, at your shoeless feet.

“It's just that sometimes or most of the time, I get into these moods. I say what I want. I do what I want. You’re right… I’m purple. You’re funny, you don't know the difference between purples and violets.” She pointed at your feet happily.

“Your toes are dirty, aren’t they cold? Don’t go running without shoes or a flip-flop. I like violet more than purple, so I appreciate that you thought I was a violet.”

She says one different thing after another.

“You’re weird.” You sighed out of frustration as you grew aware of what she pointed out, yes your feet were cold.

“It’s my first time seeing your shade of green,” she muttered.

“Usually, I would see it in restaurants or children who don’t like their veggies. Did you eat something weird? But you’re different, it’s as if you’re disgusted by yourself.” She looked at you intently, studying your expression or rather studying your expression and peeking into your soul.

“That’s none of your business scaredy fox.” You reached inside your pocket and took out the single stick of cigarette left in there and a lighter.

“Hey, don’t smoke, Green.” She jumped up while simultaneously snatching the stick slipped in between your fingers, and threw it away. “It’s bad for you.”

“What’s your problem?!” You shouted at her and she just smiled.

“How about you? What’s your problem?” She retorted sternly as if she really believed that snatching that cigarette was the right thing to do. You just sighed in defeat.

She had this commanding and carefree aura or in other words she was weird and she just didn’t care.

“Come on, just calm down and enjoy this view,” She tapped your shoulders before turning to look around. What view? All of it was just empty dark streets lit by white street lights, colorful street signage of 24-hour establishments, and the occasional passing of cars, and red and yellow souls.

“You’re weird,” you commented and she just smiled back at you.

“Keep telling me that, Green. It’s better to be weird than be normal, that sucks.”

“Stop calling me, Green. I don’t know what it means and I have a name,” you retorted while you stared at her. Now that you have a chance, you realize how beautiful this girl was… She looked like an idol, and the street lights weren’t blinding for once, they just illuminated this girl enough to show her violet self.

“So go ahead and tell me your name,” She challenged as she turned back and made eye contact.

“I don’t want to.”

She pouted, “Come on, I’ll tell you mine so tell me yours.”

“Why should I, you’ll keep calling me green anyways, Violet.”

“Haha, maybe I should dye my hair violet soon. Sure, that’s fine, let's just talk like this. Do you wanna walk? Or do you wanna sit?”

You laughed as you took a sit on the sidewalk underneath one of those white street lights.

“You made me run and then you’ll make me walk, don’t forget that I’m barefooted, Violet.” She laughed before sitting beside you.

“Here let me even out things,” She said before she removed her shoes and socks, and then threw them away.

“That’s not what I mean,” You said in a tone of frustration, “and that doesn’t even out things since we’re sitting.”

“Come on now, it’s better this way. Now go talk your heart out, Green.” She looked at you. Those eyes of hers, expecting something to come out of your mouth—the story of your shade of green.

She was really pushy(2).

“You go first, then I will go.” You smirked at her and she just pouted before breaking eye contact and looking at the sky.

“How about we play a game, Green? Let’s take turns, I’ll answer your question and then you answer mine. So that it’s fair, right?” She smiled in between her sentences.

“Sure, I’ll go first,” you quickly said and she just side-eyed in response before nodding and looking up again to the sky—that dark empty sky.

“What does Green, Purple, or Violet mean? Colors, what do colors mean?” You asked her. You could always see them everywhere but didn't really know what they meant. What do they mean? How could she even tell you could see them?

She snickered at your question, “You can see them but don’t know what they mean? You’re funny and weird.”

“I’m the one who is asking here, Miss.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll answer,” she said as she gestured as if she was grabbing something in the sky above her, “Green means disgust, and Purple is fear. Violet is still fear, but I guess for me, it is sadness mixed with little bits of anger. You know what’s funny, violet is made with more blue than red, and purple is just more red than blue. They, Purple and Violet are basically the same thing but they mean differently.”

Her explanation had raised questions. What she said wasn't clear honestly, but you just listened intently.

Her words… were just like she was yapping about something but they held meaning.

“So if red is anger, and blue is sadness. Then Purple, do they root from anger and sadness? Does that mean you’re overwhelmed by anger but were slapped with the reality and blueness of not being able to do anything with that fear? Hence, maybe that’s why you’re afraid. What does Violet even mean then, when you’re too sad but also a little bit angry?” She lowered her fist and looked at it intently before opening it.

She grabbed nothing out of the vast dark sky but there was something.

“You’re being unfair, you already asked three questions you know,” you smiled unknowingly as you watched her. “Anyways, I think you’re right though. There is nothing to be afraid of if you are happy.”

“Yellow?” She cut.

“Yes, yellow maybe as you said. Hence, fear is rooted in sadness, but sadness is just not enough. Maybe that’s why we need anger to experience fear. Sadness from the helplessness and anger from the hopelessness. Which do you prefer though? Violet or Purple?”

Once again, she looked at you straight in the eyes and something way beyond your eyes.

Perhaps the colors? Or maybe your soul?

“I prefer Violet, I already said that to you earlier. I think I’m violet… I wish I could be Violet, Green. What do you think? What am I?”

“Okay, Violet, I guess you’re too sad then, but I think you’re more purple. But I’ll keep calling you Violet 'cause violets are nice.” You smiled at her.

“Why?” She asked quickly.

“Because violet. Suppose you become more than just a violet. Let’s say super? Ultra?”

She smiled.

“Ultra-violet is all the colors at full brightness,” you joked.

“Haha, Ultra-violet? That’s so weird!” She exclaimed as she stood before once again looking up in the sky.

“Look who's talking, calling someone else weird,” you teased back.

“Just ask your question, don’t forget about it.”

“I don’t know, I’ll ask later, Green. I’ll reserve my question for later.”

“Green? I don’t think green means disgust, but rather disappointment. Yellow is Happiness? Green is made with blue and yellow, and all I can think about with that combination is disappointment. I don’t think you’re wrong though, Green might as well be disgust.”

“Why?” She asked and stood up beside her.

“Because I hate, myself.

Because I’m disgusted by myself.”

“That’s why you’re green.” She commented almost too quickly. “Why are you disgusted by yourself?”

“Hold your horses, it’s my turn to ask.” She smiled in acknowledgment.

“What are you so afraid of?”

And for the first time tonight, she didn’t look goofy, and she wasn’t smiling without any care in the world. There was violet, there was purple in her eyes. You suddenly remembered her shaking hands earlier, so you instinctively held her hands.

There were shaking.

She held your hand tightly and said,

“I’m afraid of dying.”

“Why?”

She smiled, “Hold your horses, it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Touche, Violet.”

You tried to let go of her hand but she intertwined hers with yours instead.

“Answer my why first.”

“I started to believe, that’s all.”

“And?”

“I started to loathe, and I started losing love for myself.”

“What was it that made you believe? What do you believe in?” She asked continuously. Now the game was getting more interesting.

You smirked, “My turn to ask a question.”

“Aish, go ahead.”

“Why are you afraid of dying?”

She laughed and smiled again, and for some reason, it looked and sounded forced—there was sorrow behind her smile and laugh.

“That’s simple, because I’ll die,” she stated nonchalantly as if it was the most obvious thing to say. Does she have some kind of illness? A terminally ill patient? She looked rather healthy honestly.

“Come on now, everyone will die sooner or later.”

“Yup, you’re right.”

That was when you saw, something unforgettable that would haunt you forever—may that be in a bad way or a good way.

It was her smile.

Different from the one she did before, it was the brightest. It wasn’t white or yellow, but rather was violet. It was something beyond beauty. And it wasn’t because of how the sides of her lips or the way her cheeks puffed or the way her eyes smiled along with her lips.

But it was the genuineness of it.

Her smile was filled with sorrow.

Her smile harbored acceptance for something beyond what you knew about her.

Her smile hinted reds of regret.

Her smile was not just blue.

It was violet.

“Ul—”

“I’ll die tomorrow, Green,” she cut as she let go of your hand and took a few steps forward.

You could no longer see her smile, or if she was still smiling even. You stare at her back while trying to process what she just said.

Her die? Tomorrow?

That ridiculous.

“Come on don’t joke around, you’re not terminally ill, are you?” You asked worriedly but she laughed once again...

“Is that a question? You're funny, I'm not sick or ill.”

If not that then…

“Are you gonna kill yourself?” she looked back, her smile wasn't there anymore.

“It’s not your turn to ask a que—”

“Forget about the stupid game! Answer the fucking question! Are you gonna kill yourself or not?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill myself,” She answered rather quickly and surely.

“Don’t ever kill yourself,” you said sternly, and she responded by holding out her pinky finger.

“I won’t kill myself, I promise.” She wiggled her finger, tempting you to take it. You took it, and she locked on it before playfully pressing her thumb onto yours.

“Why do you even care?” She teased as she broke the lock between your pinky fingers and quickly intertwined her hands instead, “You have to answer two questions in a row now, you took two turns earlier. I won’t let go of you until you do.”

You held her hand tightly.

“My best friend killed herself.” You almost choked out of your words.

“That’s why, so don’t kill yourself, and don’t ever kill yourself.

I don’t ever want someone I know to kill themselves again, because I’ll actually start to believe it, and maybe, I might just end up going after them...”

“What exactly is it?”

“That's your second question,” you said as you smiled at her.

“Yes it is, but this time you don't have to answer if you're uncomfortable.”

She smiled back.

“Because everyone blames me for her death, and today, I visited her grave for the first time. I went away. I wasn't there for her funeral after all so I visited and I couldn't do so for the longest time… because I was afraid. I thought I didn't deserve to visit her until I… I was finally able to make our wish come true but—”

You bit your lip, as you felt all of it, the memories, the emotions, and the trauma weigh down on your shoulders.

“but when I came to her grave… her Mom was there, and she… she said that…

I didn't change.

I was still the same monster who drove her daughter to kill herself.

I… they all said it before. That it was because of me.

And now I'm starting to believe it.

So you're right…

I’m green.

I’m disgusted by who I am.”

Tears started flowing. Words were said. Everything came gushing out. All of those that were heavy were released.

You just wept and cried.

*SLAP

“Hey, it’s not your fault.”

As the pain registered, it went silent—it went monochrome.

There were only her eyes and her mouth saying the words.

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated.

“I —I kn—know,” you struggled.

“It's not your fault,” once again as she caressed the cheek she slapped.

“I know and I tried, but—”

“Whatever it is, whatever you did. It’s not your fault.” she cut.

“But! Sometimes or most of the time, there are voices in my head saying how it's my fault that she had died. That I was the one who,” you bit your lip, “That they are right.”

“And I! Most of the time, I tell myself that they are not wrong for saying that.

So I… yes… I hate myself.

I am utterly disgusted by my own being.”

Green.

She pulled you into a hug and for one last time she said, “It’s not your fault.”

“So where did you lose your shoes?” she asked jokingly and you just bursted out laughing while tears flew down your cheeks.

“You are taking advantage of this, are you? That is your third question.”

She giggled.

“Come on, tell me about it.”

“You know, we probably look weird like this. Hugging in the middle of the streets and crying and laughing.”

“Do you want me to let go?”

Honestly no…

There was this kind of comfort and discomfort being engulfed by her arms.

Why would you let a complete stranger hug you like this?

A complete stranger saying the words you wanted to hear the most?

“Haha, I forgot about it… my shoes. I just ran and later realized that I didn't have one.”

“Here, I’ll give you this instead.” She broke the hug to reach for something from her pockets and took out a violet pen.

“Always keep this with you and don’t ever lose it.”

“What's this? A kid toy pen? It doesn’t even work.” You tried it on your hand but the pen didn't have any ink.

“Haha, it's my treasure so take care of it.”

“I will.” You kept it inside your pocket, replacing the cigarette from before.

“So tell me? What do we do now?” You asked her.

She took a few steps, before looking back.

“What else? We keep playing the game, Green.” She said as she held out her hand.

“Come, walk me home?”

You took it.

“Where are we even? Do you even know from all that running?” She took her steps and you followed her.

“Of course, are you not from around here?”

Once again, upon these empty streets illuminated only by white street lights, you two walked barefooted as if it was the most normal thing ever, grabbing the cold pavement while relishing the strange comfort of each other’s company.

“No, my best friend's parents decided they were going to bury her here, in their hometown so I came here to visit, but I can just look at my phone—” you patted your pockets to look for your phone only to find out that.

“I don’t have it!” you said surprised upon the realization of this predicament.

“I lost my phone,” you said to her but she just shrugged.

“Can I borrow yours?”

“I don’t have one,” she replied as she noticed the worried look you had.

“Maybe it's in the graveyard? Do you wanna come and get it?” She asked.

“No way! It's too late and there's no way I’m going to a graveyard this late. Aish, we don't even know what time exactly it is.”

She just laughed and you just sighed in defeat. Of course, you at least knew how you got to the graveyard from your accommodation, and how to get out of town, but you had been wondering without any care for some ample time, the running and now walking with this violet stranger girl seemed to have led you to someplace you had no idea about. Of course, this also means you didn't know how to get to the place you were residing at. You just know too little about this town and it was harder in the dark.

“Scaredy Cat, it's not that scary.”

She knows where things are, maybe you could ask her. You sighed in defeat.

“Let's just go, I will walk you home, and just give me directions to my shared house and then I hope I can figure the way.”

The walk by itself was uneventful, after all that happened and the things that you two shared about each other, the silence was a breath of fresh air. Her silence was odd, but everything was honestly odd about her so...

The girl you call Violet just has too many questions surrounding her.

She was a mystery.

A single-colored mystery

“What were you even doing out this late at night?” You looked at her hand, the one you were still holding.

“Hmm,” she pointed at her temple, “I was taking a walk?”

She joked and you bumped at her playfully.

“I wanted to feel the air.

I wanted to see the stars.

I wanted to see those white streetlights,

those colorful store signage,

those lost souls colored uniquely on their own.

I wanted to see the town.

Many more.” She smiled but her tone was filled with blues, yellows, and a new color, you had seen for the first time, orange.

What is orange?

“You’re being weird again, Violet.” you didn’t what to say so you just said the first sorry banter you thought of.

“But hey, I got to meet you, Green.” She looked at you, smiled and it was yellow.

You blushed…

She was strange.

She was weird.

But she had a smile that could not be described by just the words beautiful, pretty, or attractive.

Her smile was colorful.

“I don’t know, I think I was unlucky that I met you,” she punched you and pouted cutely. “Haha, I’m just kidding, I’m glad you found me.”

Yes, the word was found.

She found you.

“I can’t even imagine what could have happened to me if you didn’t do what you did.” You smiled.

“So thank you, Violet.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and her cheeks turned rosy. Is she blushing?

“Oh shush, don’t mention it.” She smacked your shoulders. She’s shy?! This girl…

“You looked green.” That was maybe her own way of saying You look like you needed help.

“We’re here.” You weren’t really paying attention and you just followed her so you didn't notice until you looked around to find out you two stopped in front of a massive gate, and from afar, you could an even more enormous mansion fitting the massive gate.

On the gate, you noticed circular geometric patterns, but you didn’t think much of them.

“This is your house?” you asked her and she just nodded.

“This is my family’s. My sisters and I live here,” she explained and you nodded in response. You also told her the name of your accommodation and asked for directions but she just… shrugged…

You couldn't believe it… there was no way.

You would have no choice but to sleep in the streets.

“You could stay here if you want?” she offered.

“I don’t th—”

“Lee Gahyeon!” a voice cut came from the other side of the gate before you could finish. From afar, you saw a figure of a woman. She was walking towards the two of you.

“Lee Gahyeon?”

“That’s my name, Green.”

When the figure was finally in sight it revealed an elegant woman wearing a pure white night

gown. Red lips, sharp nose, and lazy hazy eyes of a predator.

“That’s my sister, Kim Minji,” Gahyeon whispered as the said woman opened the massive gate of the mansion.

She was gray.

“Your sister looks really attractive, Vio—” she elbowed you and you just giggled. Kim? They are sisters, right?

“Where have you been?” she asked her before looking at you up and down. “And who is this gentleman?”

A strict mom? Wait, she’s her sister.

“I just took a night stroll, we took a night stroll,” she answered as she hugged your arm.

“He’s my boyfriend,” she added, which made your eyes widen.

“I see… A stroll, without shoes. A boyfriend without shoes,” She pointed out. The older sister stared at you as if she was waiting for you to say something.

“Hi—hi! O—older Sister, I’m,” you stuttered as you introduced yourself. You held out your hand for a handshake but the older woman ignored it and turned around.

“Come Gahyeon, it's late. We should rest, everyone has already retreated to their rooms.” The older gestured for the younger to come.

“JiU-unnie wait. ” This halted the older and looked back. “Can he stay? He has nowhere to go right now and it's too late.”

“We don't have any guest rooms ready so just show him to Father’s bedroom. Let him borrow his clothes and… shoes.” Minji continued walking towards the manor while Gahyeon dragged you.

“Violet, is this okay?”

“Yup don’t worry, if she says it's fine then it's fine. JiU is the oldest amongst us 7 and she's the leader so what she says goes, and besides, it's the least she could do.” you sighed in defeat.

“The least she could do?”

“Yes! I mean her youngest sister brought home a man for the first time, the least she could do is to make him feel at home and give him some shoes.” she pointed at your toes before dragging you to go inside the mansion.

What’s with them and toes… and shoes…

The place was quite big so it took a while to even go to the front door of the mansion. It made you wonder, where did the older woman walking a few meters in front of you and Gahyeon. You saw a gazebo near the gate so maybe that was wear Minji was hanging out while she was waiting for Gahyeon? Alone, that late at night?

Along the way, you saw a vast green field lit by post lamps, well-kept plants and flowerbeds, and a few marble angel statues holding some sort of ornament with patterns similar to the ones on the gate. It was creepy looking at them so you tried to ignore them up until you arrived at the front door. Although, it was hard not to notice as even the front door had them engraved.

“Violet, what are those?” you pointed at the door.

“Those are dreamcatchers, you’ll see them everywhere,” Minji explained instead of Gahyeon.

“They are all valuable so don’t touch them,” Gahyeon added before guiding you inside the mansion.

The word magnificent wasn't enough to describe it. If only there were a word for something terrifying yet grandiose. It was only the entrance, where you were greeted by a massive grand oval staircase solely lit by a crystal chandelier. Angels on both the left and right ends of the staircase, each holding their own dreamcatcher.

The light from the chandelier was not enough to illuminate the whole place, but it was enough for you to see the place with the sunroof helping with a little bit of illumination from the moon.

Minji was right, they were everywhere from the patterns of the stair railings, to many of them hanging in the ceiling, railings, and walls. Even the crystals of the chandelier looked like individual dreamcatchers on their own.

The open space was big enough to be a function hall. At the end of it, there was a hall with what seemed to be full rooms. Similar to the one in the middle, the left and right way had a hall passage leading to parts of the mansion that you haven’t seen yet.

The place had at least three floors but it seemed like the grand staircase connected only the first and second floors but you could see a third floor from the open space above. As you looked up again, there seemed to be a silhouette looking at the three of you.

“Someone is up there,” you pointed out to the two women.

“Probably one of our sisters,” Gahyeon answered.

“Come on, I’ll take you to Father’s bedroom.” Gahyeon took your hand again and you just followed her.

“Are there elevators in this massive place?” You asked them.

“What’s that?” Gahyeon asked back sincerely as if she had never seen an elevator before.

“Really?” You asked back, but she laughed loudly.

“Gahyeon, please not be too loud,” Minji

“Of course, I know what an elevator is. We just don’t have one. My father is an old-school grandpa so he didn’t like technology so much,” Gahyeon joked.

Come to think of it, she also didn’t have a cellphone.

Soon Minji headed for her room and you two headed for their Father’s bedroom. You assumed that their father was not in the mansion because they were renting his bedroom away, but you didn’t ask about it because it might be a sensitive topic.

The room was just as you had imagined but it didn’t fail to impress you. It was the master bedroom—a king-size bed, a walk-in closet full of unbranded tailored clothes, shoes, and accessories, a bathroom of its own, and other things that screamed wealth. Gahyeon had let you borrow most of it. It was embarrassing being treated so well, but she firmly assured you it was okay.

When you came out of the bathroom after freshening up, you looked at the balcony, where you found her watching the night sky. For a moment, you stared at her before she noticed you, smiled at you and gestured for you to join her. You thought to yourself as you walked towards her that she finally looked like the color she wanted to become. Violet.

Maybe more than that.

Ultra-violet.

“I’m your boyfriend?” you teased her as you leaned on the balcony railings. You stared at her while she continued watching the stars and the moon. Beautiful. You thought to yourself. It was picturesque, her glowing under the moonlight.

“Why do you not want to? Is this my first rejection?” She giggled.

“Wow, you’re just gonna turn me into a heartbreaker if I say no?”

Any guy would want to be hers. You were sure of it. You were not even sure if she was serious about the boyfriend thing. It was just an excuse to let her older sister let you inside the mansion. She was kind like that.

“I’m serious, be my boyfriend,” She declared as she slowly inched towards you until she was close… too close.

“Do you love me?” You asked, even though you knew what was the answer.

Her violet turned into pink. Weird.

“Hmm, I find you interesting and I think you’re cute. I like you, but I don’t think I love you yet,” She explained as you backed down a few steps away from her.

“How about you, Green? Do you love me?” She threw the question right back at you.

It feel like you two were playing the game again.

“You’re be—beautiful… You’re re—really nice. Kind. Although you’re kinda odd and weird, I think any man would fall in love with you.” She inched forward, once again in an uncomfortable distance.

Yellow.

Was your eye tricking you?

“I would love to be your boyfriend, but I don’t think it’s the right time to do so,” you blurted out nervously. She pouted. She smiled differently—almost bittersweetly.

Also, how could one truly love someone when one only has hate for themselves?

“Aish, what a heartbreaker.” She flicked your forehead before running inside the room.

Now once again, her usual Violet.

“Hey! What was that for?” You chased after, but she ran circles around you, outmaneuvering you using her speed, by throwing throw pillows at you or putting distance between the two of you using the furniture. You didn’t even know what you were going to do once you caught her but you kept chasing.

Up until she stepped into one of the pillows she threw earlier and slipped. Time slowed down, and in that moment, you tried to break her fall or maybe catch her from an impending disaster. You couldn’t catch her. Thankfully, she didn’t hit her head and instead, she fell onto the bed. You sighed in relief when you saw that she wasn’t hurt in any way. But there was something strange. Her cheeks turned rosy. She had let out a strange noise.

“I’m no longer pure,” she whispered… What did she mean by that?

That was when you realized, you fell into a position where you could only see in dramas or animations, a girl accidentally falling and the boy trying to catch her only to end up in an awkward position.

Maybe, fate was rather playful at that point as you felt your body press onto her. You could feel her soft body on yours, and her face… she was too close. Gahyeon was so close that it was only an inch keeping you two away from kissing. Luckily, it wasn’t that cringe trope where the guy accidentally grabbed the woman’s breast, but luck couldn’t suppress biology as your body reacted embarrassingly.

“Green, your thing… is pressing against me,” Gahyeon said shyly to which you quickly responded by jumping out of that position.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it! It’s a natural thing!” You reasoned out, but she just laughed as she fixed herself.

“Pervert,” She whispered into your ear before kissing you on the cheek.

“Haha, you’re blushing, Green!” She teased as she walked to the door.

“That’s what you get for rejecting me,” Gahyeon said before leaving you speechless inside that massive room.

What?!

Why did she do that?!

What’s with her?!

You had so many questions, but you just retreated to the bed. So much happened, and meeting Gahyeon somehow made it bearable and for a moment you forget about all those hardships.

Gahyeon/Violet was really an oddball.

“Ultra-violet,” you muttered to yourself.

Maybe it was worth trying again at this complicated colorful life.

Somehow, it not being monochrome was great as before it once had her, and now it has Violet.

Tomorrow would be a great day, you thought to yourself before closing your eyes.

What kind of questions should you ask her tomorrow?

The next day came full of anticipation. The questions still lingered.

Her kiss.

Her smile.

Her color.

That brightness.

They all lingered.

You opened the door of the master room only to be greeted by the warmth of the bright yellow sun. The sunroof filled the mansion with natural light. Light creates the ambiance of the place, as well as the expression of the structure. The wealthy took this to heart. What kind of family do they even have to afford this?

This place wasn’t so creepy after all. The marble statues, and the dreamcatchers. Maybe the dark tense vibe of the night made it creepy. The master room/Gahyeon’s father's room was located on the third floor and the fact that the mansion was vast meant it was a trip to even to the second floor.

You hummed as you walked and tried to reflect on what happened yesterday. You remembered Gahyeon’s pen, you remember putting it inside your pockets. You checked if it was still there, and to your surprise, something else was inside your pocket.

A note that said the following:

“Don’t trust anyone. Don’t keep this note. Swallow it.”

Chills went down your spine. What does this even mean? Is this a prank?

“AHH!” a scream came from below. The first floor.

Does this mean the note is not a prank?

What’s happening?

Before you could even think straight, you just did as the note said. You crumpled it and swallowed it whole before heading to the first floor. Suddenly, you remembered something from yesterday.

“I’ll die tomorrow, Green.”

You completely forgot about what she said. Your steps became heavier, but you found yourself running the flight of stairs.

Hearts were booming. Imagination was going wild. Anxiety kicked in.

It only got worse when you arrived at the grand staircase when you saw something hanging off the chandelier. The steps felt endless. You closed your eyes. You could only wish that your eyes were lying to you.

It’s not real, right?

Open your eyes. Look again.

Her smile.

Her color.

You reached the bottom.

That was when the high came crashing down as you looked at a scene that would haunt you forever. It hit hard before, but it hit harder today. Your hope was quite literally hanging in front of your eyes. It didn’t crash down. It floated, and it would never reach the ground.

That was when the colors faded.

There was so much to ask.

But there was no more chance.

A game played by one person would not be fun at all.

It was your turn after all.

Ask the question.

As your tears flew down your cheeks endlessly, they were crawling slowly from behind, hugging you. A weight on your shoulders. A blow of air right beside your ear whispered. It was a feeling you know of too much already.

Her hugs.

The way she held your hand.

The way her lips curved when she smiled.

Her bright color.

“It’s your turn, Green.” That was her sweet kind voice, but how could it be? How could it be her when she was literally hanging in front of your eyes?

“Violet,” you called her name, “who killed you?”

The game continues.

This is for a good friend of mine. Thank you for waiting for this after so many months of hiatus.

Not as good as I was and maybe too many errors but here it is.

#reader insert #kofi commission #panchatea #kpop #dreamcatcher

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