Warning! Contains a dark England! There's language, violence, etc.
For (F/n) (L/n), living with Francis Bonnefoy had its disadvantages as well as its obvious advantage. For instance, he spent a lot of money on good quality wine because he didn’t “care for” the cheap kind that people on budgets got. However, he tried to make the bottle last and would wait a few weeks before getting a new bottle, so it wasn’t a weekly problem.
Although, the worse problem she had with him was centred on the women he brought to the apartment. There was always some woman that had a serious problem that it seemed only he could solve, but whoever it was would shoot her a glare as soon as they saw the (birthstone) ring on (Y/n)’s finger. He’d gotten it for her a year ago, but he was insistent that they have enough money for a proper proposal and a big, romantic wedding back in Paris. That meant that they’d have to wait for who knew how long until they’d be financially set. Then, with him bringing in a new woman every time the weather changed for some problem, she worried over her place at Francis’ side. After all, she wasn’t one to be very outspoken and was even a bit shy when it came to day-to-day flirtations.
But she knew she was the only one that Francis spent his nights with. After all, he loved her, and she loved him, too. Who wouldn’t love the Frenchman with his beauty and sweet nature that made even shy (Y/n) feel good about herself? However, sometimes, he just really upset her.
Especially when he was flirting with that tramp from 3D.
“Fleur, don’t you worry about sugar,” she heard him murmur when she came home one evening. The woman that sat on their counter, in their kitchen, blushed and then giggled, making (Y/n)’s blood ignite.
“Hello, Lia,” she said softly from the doorway. Francis and his lady friend turned towards her, and she hated the way that he was blushing, as if she’d caught him in the process of kissing the woman.
“Mon amour, welcome home,” he said sweetly, taking her in his arms for a cute little kiss. She returned it heatedly, stroking his face for just a moment before pulling away to look at the whore decorating their countertop. Francis followed her gaze, and (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.
“What do you need, Lia?” she asked, (e/c) orbs narrowed suspiciously. There had been several “problems” in the woman’s life since she’d moved in the apartment three doors down. Plumbing complications, moving heavy boxes, and now Lia dared to come when she wasn’t home?
“I need sugar,” the tramp replied lamely. She shot Francis a look, but a quick glance at Francis showed that he was obviously nervous about the two of them being in the same room.
“Listen, Lia, we’re all out of sugar,” (Y/n) lied softly. “You’ll have to ask the man in the apartment next to yours. He bakes a lot, too.”
“Mon amour, surely you are mistaken, non? We have sugar right here,” Francis said as he held up the bag of sugar he’d retrieved from the cupboards. Lia shot her a smug smile before turning back towards Francis, her face innocent and wide-eyed.
“Thank you, … What was it that you called me?” She smiled, her expression that of someone who knew they were about to win but didn’t want to be overly smug about it. “Ah! Yes. Thank you, mon cher,” she purred, nailing the French pronunciation perfectly like the A-class tramp she was.
She took the mug of sugar he prepared for her and sashayed out the door, Francis staring after her. (Y/n) shook her head in betrayal before slapping him across the face.
“Mon amour!” he gasped, clutching at his face, looking into her (e/c) orbs. “What was that for?!”
“That? That’s the least of what I want to do to you! Why is she always over here? Why do you never just turn her away and make her leave?”
“Lia needed sugar,” he spluttered.
“Oh, I bet she did,” (Y/n) replied, not believing a word. There was nothing innocent in Lia’s visits. “Either keep her out of our apartment, or you-” She jabbed at his chest with a finger. “-can have it all to yourself to bring any woman you want into it!”
“I only want you in it! You’re being outrageous!” He grabbed her hands in his larger ones, eyes begging. “(Y/n), please, have some sense.”
“Francis, are you going to keep letting her in this apartment?” (Y/n) asked, a (h/c) brow raised. He sighed, and she did as well. It hurt that after two years he couldn’t even be there when she needed him to stand up for her and respect her.
Slowly, ignoring the frustrated noise he made and the swears in French, she made her way back to the door, yanked it open, and walked out, heart shattering into a million pieces.
“Alfred, that’s the point.” He chuckled and leaned back in the booth where they ate. “You can’t hire someone to help you if you have no money to hire them with.”
The poor American was having problems with the local mob boss damaging his shop- his livelihood- and then taking whatever money he’d made and needed for his family. Of course, he would love to help the poor guy with Lovino, but he needed a way to put food on the table as well.
“I don’t have any money!” Alfred sobbed, his blue eyes filling with tortured tears. “Please, just help me now and let me pay you back,” he begged in a panicked whisper. “As soon as I start getting money again, I’ll pay you back- with interest.” He placed his pale palms together. “I need your help, Arthur.”
“How about we barter, hm?” the Englishman proposed after mulling over his options. After all, this was a man who had two beautiful children to provide for, and Lovino had become a thorn in his side over the years. Maybe it was about time that he brought the meddlesome Italian to his rightful size. However, he couldn’t do something for nothing.
“What do you want? My car? My computer?”
“No, no.” He watched as an attractive young woman entered the diner and slid into a booth near the front, across the room from them. Her (h/c) locks were a mess, and her make-up was smudged from crying. She was obviously in work attire, wearing a (f/c) dress that clung to her curves but stopped at her knees appropriately. She wore black boots to accompany the dress that came up to her half-calf and reminded him of military boots.
After her waitress served her coffee, she held it in her dainty hands, (e/c) orbs glued to the table top. He recognized the signs of heartbreak written all over her face and internally sighed.
“Here’s the deal,” Arthur told the American quietly, leaning across the table to avoid anyone eavesdropping on their little discussion. “I help you with Lovino, but first, you have to bring me her.”
Alfred glanced at the girl, his blue eyes widening in terror. “Kidnap her?” he whispered, stunned. “Who is she? What do you want with her?”
“Well, do you really want to know?” Arthur asked, his green eyes gleaming viciously. It was about time he had someone to care for again, and it was only gentlemanly of him to care for this poor, broken-hearted girl. It was a crime for someone so beautiful to look so sad. “Bring her to me this evening, and I will make the message clear to Lovino to leave you and you shop alone.”
He knew he had his client trapped. He couldn’t afford to turn Arthur down, what with his daughter still trying to fight the cancer that was doing its damnedest to kill her. If he was still dealing with Lovino in another month, he wouldn’t have enough money to pay the hospital and her insurance. As soon as her insurance was gone, Alfred would be entirely unable to pay for her hospital bills, which would mean that they’d turn the little darling away. If Alfred wanted her to live, he had to do this, which was why Arthur wasn’t surprised when he saw the tortured submission in Alfred’s eyes.
“All right,” he murmured, bowing his head. “I’ll bring you the girl.”
(Y/n) made her way back towards the apartment complex, fully prepared to apologize to Francis and take whatever she could of him back. Even if she’d ruined everything between them in terms of their relationship, she’d do anything to keep him in her life. She still loved him so much.
She sighed and crossed the street, folding her arms around her chest as she ran and noticing that the light to their bedroom was on. It was midnight, and Francis was still up? She stopped on the sidewalk as she regretted treating him so badly hours before. She knew she should’ve just let him explain, and it made her feel stupid that she even imagined that sweet, loving Francis would cheat.
She could see him, pacing and talking to himself. Her heart broke for him, and she started towards the house, pulling out her key from her pocket…
…only to stop as she saw Lia, naked but for her undergarments, wrap her arms around him and stop his pacing.
“No,” (Y/n) whispered as she watched Lia pull Francis in for a slow, heated kiss. He returned her kiss for a few moments before pulling away, smiling and yanking off his shirt. Lia said something, and he nodded. (Y/n) watched as he came to the window, grabbing the cord to the blinds. “Francis…”
His blue eyes locked onto her (e/c) ones and then widened. Fighting tears, (Y/n) pressed the heel of her hand to her mouth, shaking her head. His lips formed her name in shock, but she started to back away, feeling more than just the cold night numb her from head to toe.
Suddenly, he froze and then banged on the window, looking as if he was shouting her name and something else. Fear was sketched into his features so obviously, that she attempted to read his lips.
Someone grabbed her from behind, pressing something cloth-like to her nose and mouth. The sickly-sweet smell of chemicals overwhelmed her senses, and she fought, trying to twist and turn in the muscular arms that held her tight against their body.
Right before she lost consciousness, she heard a man whisper in her ear, “I’m so sorry for this.”
When she awoke again, she was blind. She tried to touch her eyes, but her wrists were bound and tied to some sort of wooden pole. There was a cloth gag in her mouth; she knew that much. However, the ground beneath her wasn’t the down of a bed or the rough carpet of a car. It seemed like she was lying on linoleum.
“You’re awake. Capital.” The accent was English and came from some man that probably stood above her and to the right. She heard the clink of china and then the rush of liquid being poured. “You’ve been out for some time. I told Alfred to only use a little, but he’s rather new at all of this, so you’ll have to forgive him. However, his debt was paid all the same.” She felt him nudge her ankle with his shoe. “What’s your name, love?” he asked, and she felt the gag being removed.
“(F/n) (L/n),” she murmured fearfully, not entirely understanding what was happening. “Who are you?”
“Well, love that’s an excellent question. I’m simply just a secret admirer who saw how upset you were and decided to help out.” She blinked under the blindfold. “Are you hungry? I made food for us.”
“I’m fine,” she replied weakly, not sure that she should trust a man who had arranged to have her kidnapped. “Can you untie me please?”
“I’ll think about it.” She heard the clink-clank of a spoon stirring in the china, and a distant and odd part of her realized he was making tea. “Are you thirsty? I have some real tea not that rubbish you Yanks drink.”
“I can drink if I can’t hold anything,” she replied, knowing that she was fighting on unbalanced terrain, what without knowing how unhinged he was or how short his patience was. “At least let me sit up.”
There was a sigh, and then she felt the heat of his body all around her as he straddled her hips. Terror shot through her, and she started to struggle. His thighs quickly held hers immobile, which allowed her to feel the hard ridge of his arousal through his jeans. She let out a squeak and felt her cheeks flame.
“Look how cute you are when you blush, (Y/n),” he whispered, his face close enough for his breath to hit her face. “So un-ladylike for you to try and hit your fiancé.”
“M-my what?” Francis’ ring! He must’ve thought that she was actually engaged. “I’d never hurt Francis!”
“Francis? Oh, you must mean the man who gave you this ring.” She felt his fingers touch the (birthstone) ring and made a noise when he slid the ring off. “I was talking of myself, of course. No, it’s obvious that he doesn’t care about you, or else you wouldn’t have been standing outside all alone.”
How did he know that? “Well, I was walking home! Of course I’d be standing outside. I was throwing rocks at the window because I needed him to buzz me in,” she lied, trying to defend Francis despite his betrayal. “He saw me being taken. The moment he finds me, he’ll take me away and then destroy you.”
Her words were met with a finger on her lips. “Hmm… Alfred, it seems, was not completely honest with me. I guess I’ll have to take it out on Liberty.”
“Liberty? His wife?” A sick feeling settled in her stomach.
“No, no, his wife died a few years ago in a car crash.” Relief flooded her, only to evaporate and die when he murmured, “No, Liberty is his little darling. Sweet little tot with cornflower hair and pretty little button eyes that are just the most precious shade of blue.” She felt tears prickle in her eyes. "It doesn’t really matter. She’s dying anyway.”
“God, please don’t hurt her,” (Y/n) cried. “She doesn’t even know what’s going on, probably. I was lying. I was just standing on the street. Don’t take it out on her because I lied!”
She knew by the tension that had gripped his body what he thought of that. Choking back a damning sob, she turned her face from him, feeling the cold linoleum of the floor against her cheek as she tried not to imagine what could happen next.
“Why,” he murmured in her ear eerily, “did you lie to me?”
“Because I’m ashamed,” she admitted, hating the way her body trembled under the man she couldn’t even see. Before she could help it, she also murmured, “Because you’re scaring me.”
“Well, that’s not very gentleman-like of me,” he said, rolling off her. She then felt him pick at her bounds, and a sigh escaped her as her wrists were freed. Grabbing her blindfold, she lifted it from her eyes to see her captor for the first time.
The first thing she noticed was that he had thick, bushy eyebrows. His eyes were a deep green- a contrast from Francis’ beautiful blue irises. His hair was an ash blonde colour that lay in layers on his head. His face was handsome enough, even if it was staring at her in a way that made her heart beat uncomfortably and made her skin prickle.
Why are all the crazy ones good-looking, she wondered before she could help it. She pushed some of her (h/c) locks out of her face, scooting back towards what she realized was a table; he’d tied her to a table leg. Frighteningly, he followed her on all fours, causing her to crawl under the table in fear. The gleam that shone in those emerald eyes made her skin crawl.
“Hiding under the table will get you nowhere.” She screamed when his hands curled around her ankles, pulling her back to him so that he knelt between her knees. He dragged her further, sliding her forwards as he moved back and stopping when they were in the middle of the kitchen floor. He used the gag cloth to tie her wrists together and the other bound to tie her ankles together. After he was done, he dropped his head to kiss her.
“Please don’t! Leave me alone!” She turned her head, trying to struggle from his grip. One hand clamped hard on her breast but then gently kneaded. She shook her head. “Stop it! Let me go!” Turning her face enough to aim, she hit him in the face with her joined hands and crawled out from under him. Moving quickly, she slid under the table again to the way back. Thankfully, the table was shoved against the corner, so, short of crawling after her, the psycho couldn’t get his hands on her.
“Come out, (Y/n),” he said, standing up. She shook her head, struggling with the bounds. She managed to get the one off her ankles and then worked on her wrists. “It wasn’t a request, love.”
“No!” She got the last tie off and then hugged her legs to her chest, hiding her face in her knees. “Let me be!”
The muffled plea was nothing to the man as he crawled under the table to get her. However, surprisingly, instead of hurting her, he only pulled her in his arms, resting his head on hers. The feeling of being placated made her edgy, but she couldn’t do much since she’d gone under the table and was already up against the corner. His hands ran along her sides, fingers working to soothe taunt muscles.
“Don’t be scared of me, love,” he murmured, and she relaxed in his arms slowly. Maybe if she put on a calm, trusting façade, he’d let his guard down long enough for her to escape? It was worth a shot. Hopefully, all she’d have to do was run down to the nearest house down the street and call for help. Then Francis could come get her and would take her away from this nightmare.
“I’m thirsty,” she murmured, recalling his offer from before.
“I’ve still got the tea.” She slowly moved out from under the table after him, and she looked around. Unlike every other house she’d seen, the kitchen didn’t have any type of door or window to provide any natural light. There was a pot on the stove across the room from the table, yet she couldn’t see what was inside due to the lid covering the contents. Beside the pot was a kettle, but it currently had a tea cosy covering the upper half of it. Of course, on a nearby counter, there were two antique-looking teacups and their matching saucers, accompanied by the set of a tea pot, cream pitcher, and a sugar bowl and spoons, on a tray.
Her captor helped her into a chair and then brought the tray over to the table, placing the individual cups and saucers in front of her and the chair beside her. She eyed the black tea, not entirely trusting it. However, in order to appear like she was giving in, she politely asked for (tea preference) and waited patiently as he fixed her and then himself some tea. His green eyes watched her like a cat, but she could hint that she had a plan, so she kept her head down.
Sipping the tea once it was cool, she was aware of the tension in the air. Was she supposed to yell at him some more? She had already tried to unnerve him, but he’d retaliated with proving his insanity by threatening a little girl’s life. Her conscience couldn’t excuse another’s freedom in place of her own. After all, how would he treat some poor girl, whose father he was sure had betrayed him, hoping that the girl’s suffering would become her father’s? She shuddered at the thought.
“Can I use the bathroom?” And scope out your house for an exit?
“Of course, love, but after you’ve drunk a bit more of your tea.” His green eyes then became sharp. “Unless you wanted to try and escape because you might as well try now for all the good it’ll do you.”
His hand crept toward her wrist, and she immediately panicked. Grabbing the tea pot off the tray, she yanked the lid off and threw its contents all over him and setting it down as quick as possible as she raced out the kitchen door. Luckily, the front door was in the very next room in a straight line across from her. She booked it and threw the door open, racing down the steps…
…towards empty farmland. She shook her head and started back for the house to skirt around it, but he was already at the door. She gasped and sprinted for the farmland, using any energy she had left in her body to put as much distance between herself and him as possible. Fear poured extra adrenaline through her veins, and she ran faster, heading towards trees that were coming closer and closer to her. Perhaps if she outran him and made it into the brush-
“Oh, (Y/n), why do you make it so easy?”
In the next second, a heavy weight slammed into her and pressed her into the ground. Her face was shoved into the rocky soil and held her there as her captor gripped her skull in his hand, shoving her face in the dirt. She thrashed, unable to breathe. Her heart ran a marathon against her chest, and her lungs began to ache worse than when she if she had been on the treadmill high speed for hours. A weight gathered in her chest as black spots clouded her vision.
“When I let you up, you will stand and stand still, got it, love?” His breath tickled her ear in a way that made her shudder, but she nodded. He let go of her, and she propped up on her forearms, gasping and choking loudly. His fingers curled around her shoulder, and she was forced to stand with him. Then, he grabbed her by a large part of her (h/c) hair, dragging her back towards the house. She screamed and tried to pull away, but that only resulted in more tugging and more pain.
When they got back to the house, he continued to drag her through the front door and then through the living room to a metal door to the left of the kitchen. She watched in horror as he yanked it open to reveal a dark staircase. Ignoring her pleas, he let go of her hair.
And then he shoved her down the steps.
Unable to keep her balance, she rolled headfirst down the hard stone steps. She hit her head multiple times, and pain exploded through her skull along with the rest of her body. Something metallic filled her mouth as she accidently bit down hard on her tongue. As she hit the bottom of the steps, she crashed into something that felt like a wire fence. She looked up through the black spots in her vision to watch as he slowly descended down the stairs.
“Now be a good girl and go back to sleep,” he hissed as consciousness slipped through her fingers.
Arthur sighed as he tucked his patient into the small bed downstairs. Her face was a bit torn up from small scrapes and wire pieces, but he was sure that he’d finally gotten them all out. The gashes on her head had been a harder trick, but he’d always had a fair stitch. Her internal bleeding was thankfully nothing more than some bruises, yet he’d needed to give her painkillers for the mess she’d done to her tongue alone.
Her face was awash with tears, but he didn’t dare wake her up from whatever nightmare she was in, only for her to feel horrible pain. Her lovely dress had ripped, so he’d given her a tee shirt to wear after he’d bathed her. Her (h/c) locks were still drying, but at least he’d gotten the blood and filth from her lovely (s/c) skin. Soon, he’d have to wake her in order to give her some sustenance, what with her not eating in nearly a day, but he also wanted to savour the peace her sleepy sounds brought some more.
Throwing her down the stairs hadn’t been very civil, but she’d wasted perfectly good tea and then had tried to leave him. Did she expect him to just let his lovely (Y/n) go without a fight? He would’ve lost the chance to nurse her back to health and earn her love. Besides, if Alfred’s story was true, (Y/n) had no one to go to, nowhere to live. How could a gentleman like him turn out such an innocent woman to the streets?
Her hand clenched around his, and he looked down in shock. Sweetly manicured nails gently dug into his skin, her fear processing through the need to find someone close. He engulfed her cold, clammy hands in his two, offering his warmth and presence to calm her.
“It’ll be okay, love. As soon as I make sure your medication has kicked in, I’ll wake you up from your nightmares, and we’ll have something to eat.” He kissed the smooth side of her forehead, trying to avoid the bandage to a gash that started at her part and ran down to her eyebrow. “How about I read to you, poppet?” he asked and then glanced around. He frowned. “Oh, dear. There aren’t any books down here. I could’ve sworn that I brought at least one down here while I was waiting for Alfred.”
He started to stand to get one from the living room, but (Y/n) whimpered in her sleep, her lip trembling noticeably. Sitting back down, he stretched out beside her and sighed softly as she gently snuggled closer to him. Even though there were three layers of bedding between them, he could feel the warm energy that radiated off her skin. He kissed her ear, smiling when the low whimpers stopped.
“How about this?” he proposed, speaking low and soft in her earlobe. “Why don’t I tell you a bedtime story? I used to tell them to my little brother, Peter, all the time. Of course, I’m not used to telling stories to sweet girls like you, so bear with me, okay?”
Arthur thought, trying to decide what story he’d tell her. Settling on a story he felt like she should know, he bent his head toward her ear, murmuring, “Once upon a time, there was a lonely prince. His mother, father, and brother had been the only ones to ever love him, but they all died one day in a tragic accident. So, the prince became king and was left all alone with a big castle and no one to care for him.
“One day, he realized what he needed and set out to find a princess to marry. So, he sent one of his men to find the prettiest girl in the kingdom, and the man came back with a lovely girl. As soon as the prince saw her, do you know what he said?” He kissed her ear again, the action making her tighten her grip on his arm. “He told her that no one would ever have a chance with his lovely fiancée ever again.” He giggled. “He had a girl he could love and would never let go.”