#nothing like crying in my husbands arms on a Wednesday night about the friendship that changed the whole course of my life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years ago

Note

just a wittle request, could you do something where bucky comforts the reader who has mommy issues after she has a panic attack over the thought of turning out like her mother?

Hi there, sorry this took so long! I still haven’t processed my own so I had to take a few breaks. I apologize if this is off the path of what you meant, I’m going off of my own experience but I know it’s different for everyone.

You're nothing like her.

Bucky x reader

Word count: 3219

Warnings: mommy issues, toxic childhood, talk of divorce, panic attack/anxiety, negative self-talk

A/N: This takes place in a timeline where Bucky is retired

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You did everything you could to avoid it. To avoid her

You left home as soon as you could. When you were in college you were surrounded by people who were homesick, people who wanted to go home, people who finally had to take care of themselves. Things you couldn’t relate to.

You had been supporting yourself most of your life. Not that you had much of a choice. Your dad left when you were younger, your mother blaming it on you. If you had been better, maybe he wouldn’t have left. You, being young, believed her. What else were you supposed to do, growing up in a world that preaches ‘mother knows best’?

Load of bullshit to you.

You knew better now, being an adult, that she didn’t know best. She worked or went out with friends and left you to raise yourself, telling you it was your fault when she neglected her responsibilities. And when you would get upset she would play the victim, crying ‘woe is me’ because you were so ungrateful to the person who raised you after you drove her husband out.

“You know it’s your fault right?” she had snapped at you one night at dinner. There was a graded paper, a B written on the top of it.

“What?”

“You’re the reason he left me. He just couldn’t stand you. You’re the reason why he left and why I’m so miserable now.”

You had felt tears in your eyes.

“Tears, really? Tears aren't going to change the fact that MY husband LEFT.”

Her husband, not your father.

No, you knew better now to know that what she had done and said was wrong. But that didn’t make you forget. It didn’t make it any easier for you.

You went to college, saved up as much as you could, and gave tight-lipped smiles when people asked why you didn’t go home on weekends or vacations. You tried not to talk about her much, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about her.

You had stood at your college graduation, caps thrown and loud laughs and cheers echoing around. There were a bunch of people celebrating around you, taking photos, but you had stood on the outskirts. You had a small smile on your face for everyone else, but you couldn’t help but feel empty inside. You hadn’t made many friends, not close friends, but that was a good thing. You could take the photo so no one was left out.

Not so much of a text from her. She hadn’t come, she hadn’t called or anything.

In a twisted way, you were glad that she hadn’t. She couldn’t make a big deal about how you weren’t the top of your class or how you didn’t deserve to be. How you didn’t have a job set up to start the next week even though you already were planning on submitting your resumes. There wasn’t a way to please her, so it was almost better that she wasn’t there.

You had texted her after a few days and she made up some bullshit excuse that she had forgotten to put it on the calendar.

She liked your Instagram photo though. So thoughtful

You worried you would turn out the same way. Or that she had rubbed off on you in some way. You kept to yourself as much as you could, staying in, keeping your emotions to yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust people, maybe it was, but more so you were worried that you would seem like you were playing the victim.

You didn’t want to bother anyone or make anyone feel obligated to listen to you. You worried that behind your back they would complain about you being emotional or making everything about you.

You worried they would talk about you the same way you thought about your mother.

People are supposed to look to their parents to teach them what to be, yet you found yourself wanting to avoid everything your parents did to you. They taught you exactly who you didn’t want to be.

Your father left. Your mother hated you.

You didn’t share your opinions because you didn’t want to be told you were wrong. You didn’t want to force your ideas onto anyone. Not like what you said would make a difference anyway, not that it mattered in the first place.

You remembered all of the sentences you would start but not finish because no one had heard you. Trying to jump in a few times and eventually giving up when the conversation had moved onto a new subject. All the times people would interrupt or interject, making you feel like you didn’t have something to say that was worth hearing.

You thought it would get better when you got a job. But the pressure you put on yourself to do well in school was transferred to the job you had gotten. You still were afraid that people saw yourself as your mom used to and that you would never be good enough for anyone. You thought that achievements would make you feel fulfilled.

But if you didn’t believe in yourself, what were a few “job well done's” supposed to do?

It made it hard to get into a relationship. People say that “you have to love yourself before you can love someone else,” but that didn’t feel so true to you. It was more that you didn’t trust yourself to love someone else. You worried about hurting whoever you were with, and you told yourself that if you didn’t get close to anyone, you couldn’t hurt them.

But then you ran into him.

He was on a morning run and you were walking home from a night shift, both too tired to see each other coming. You because you had just finished a shift, him because he was running off the nightmare he had had the night previous. Both of you craving a sleep that seemed just out of reach.

You were very apologetic, as was he, both afraid that you had hurt the other. You avoided his eyes even though they were trained anywhere but your own, as he fiddled with his gloved hands and you scratched the back of your neck.

It was the first time either of you had seen someone as unsure as yourselves

You had parted ways with only each other's names. Bucky and y/n.

The two of you crossed paths a few times in the following weeks, eventually getting each other’s phone numbers and agreeing to meet for coffee rather than hoping the other left at the right time. Eventually, the subtle nervous tics each of you had died down as you got to know each other.

For the most part.

You still overly apologized for everything. If you were a few minutes late, if you spaced out...you took the blame for everything.

Traffic had been bad, a storm and an accident causing you to be 5 minutes late rather than 15 minutes early. You had run into the coffee shop, scanning the restaurant with wide eyes when you saw Bucky sitting there casually.

“I am so so so sorry, I should’ve left earlier, there was an accident, I’m so sorry I’m late -”

“Y/n, don’t worry about it,” he had said, a smile on his face and a slight flash of concern on his face. “Seriously, it’s a couple of minutes. It’s literally fine.”

“No, I’m really sorry, I should’ve known or called or something.”

“Relax. It’s totally fine, I promise,” he had said, concern a little more present on his face. “Are you okay though?”

“What? Yeah, I’m good. How have you been with everything?

You wouldn’t let him talk about you. The same way your mother never let you talk about yourself.

Don’t think about her.

He had started opening up to you but you still kept your personal life under lock and key. Your name, how work was, and your physical well-being was about as personal as you got. Even so, if work had been a shit show or you had to pull an all-nighter would go unspoken. He didn’t need the burden of your personal issues. Not when there was nothing he could do about it.

The past was the past, you just had to learn how to get over yourself.

You couldn’t change what your mother had said over a decade ago.

You worried if you talked about yourself at all then you would be making the situation about you. You worried you would project your anger or sadness onto him. He didn’t deserve that. Plus, it wasn’t like he would be able to do anything, right?

You promised yourself you wouldn’t let him get too close. That if he didn’t get close to you, you couldn’t hurt him.

But damn, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t start developing feelings for him. And from the way he had started acting, you thought maybe he was too.

The hugs that were ever so slightly too tight or when he smiled at you a little longer than normal. He had opened up to you about many things in his past, and from the way he talked about it, you could tell he hadn’t talked about it much with anyone else.

You found comfort in your friendship, the way he trusted you. You liked being there for him, and you were honored that he trusted you enough to open up to you. Yet it also made you uneasy that you would ruin it in some way or drive him out.

The same way your mom drove out your father.

Goddamn it don’t think about her.

The closer you got and the closer you and Bucky had gotten, the more nervous you were. That you would turn out like your mother. You were having a harder time keeping to yourself, keeping up the façade that everything was all bright in your world. You wanted to be a light for everyone.

But at some point, days turn to nights and the light gives way to the darkness.

And you weren’t sure how much time you had left before you cracked.

Bucky had started making small moves towards you, and you were trying your best to deflect them in efforts to not fall flat on your face for him. He came over Wednesday nights for a movie and take out with you, and what started as being on two opposite ends of the couch had moved to being next to each other to him having his arm wrapped around you. Sometimes you felt he was a little too close and you would either shift away or get up to grab another drink or ‘use the bathroom’.

When you came back you would make an attempt to sit a bit further away.

Sometimes when Bucky would say goodbye at the end of the night he would hug you. That was nothing new, you were both big on hugs, but lately, he had been hugging you longer or tighter, lingering a few moments longer than could be platonic. You had started ending the hugs earlier, giving him a small squeeze before pulling away.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with Bucky. It was that you were so scared that you would drive him away, leaving you as soon as you had started calling yourself his.

Which is what brought you here. Bucky had come over for another one of your movie nights and had his arm behind the couch rather than around you. An invitation for you to curl into his side, but he wanted you to make that choice. Eventually, you had found yourself curled up with him, his arm wrapped around you, and you could feel the tension.

You wanted to move away before you found yourself in too deep, but you couldn’t resist. It had been a long day and you found comfort with Bucky. Bucky turned his face slightly towards yours, kissing the side of your temple and you felt butterflies in your stomach. Your mind told you to shift away, to not let him get too close, but you found yourself turning your head towards Bucky and he leaned forward to kiss you gently.

After a moment you broke away, emotion taking over you. “I’m sorry, Bucky, I - I can’t do this,” you said, resting your forehead against his.

“Why not?” Bucky whispered, looking into your eyes.

Because I’ll hurt you.

I’ll disappoint you.

I’ll drive you away and I can’t lose the best thing that’s happened to me.

You sighed, standing up and moving away from Bucky. You couldn’t say those things to him out loud. Not without the entire story. And you weren’t ready to share all of that with him.

Bucky stood up with you, afraid he had just ruined the friendship or whatever relationship he had with you. “Y/n, wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You had already left the room and couldn’t really hear him over the sound of your thoughts.

This wasn’t supposed to happen

I wasn’t supposed to let this happen

How could I be so stupid?

You were feeling tears in your eyes and Bucky followed you, afraid of what he did. Your breathing was picking up and you had started mumbling some of these things to yourself.

“Y/n, what’s happening, what did I do?”

You shook your head “You didn’t do anything, but I need you to leave, please,” you said, trying to hide your emotions. You hated being like this.

“I’m not going anywhere y/n, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Get the fuck out of here Bucky! I don’t want your help!” you snapped suddenly, Bucky looking taken aback before your eyes widened.

“Oh god…”

You shook your head and started crying harder, stumbling over your words. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that, I didn’t mean to yell, I’m so sorry Bucky please don’t leave I'm so sorry.”

Bucky came forward and hugged you gently and you cried into his shirt. He whispered comforting words into your ear as you tried to breathe, embarrassed at how vulnerable you were being.

Bucky kept his breathing slow and even, trying to get you to match him. He had no idea what was happening but he knew he needed you to calm down before he asked. Whatever it was had to be something deep, and you weren’t in the space to talk about it right now.

He brought you over to sit on the corner of your bed, still hugging you as you cried. You were mumbling out apology after apology but Bucky wasn’t having any of it. He kept hugging you, telling you that he wasn’t going anywhere and that you were safe. He had never seen you so upset, or upset at all to begin with.

After you had calmed down a bit, Bucky asked you again what had happened. You shook your head, not knowing what to say.

“I’ve opened up about so many things to you, right?” he pulled back to look at you.

You nodded slightly.

“And you’ve never judged me for any of it.”

You shook your head this time.

“Then why can’t you let me do the same for you?”

You took a deep breath, fiddling with your hands. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” you said, not meeting his eyes.

Bucky drew his eyebrows together, still confused. “Y/n, you’ve been the nicest person I’ve ever met. How would you hurt me?”

You were already shaking your head. “No, see, that’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna be nice and sweet and...and I’m gonna fall in love with you, and you’re gonna fall in love with me. A-and then I’m gonna let you down over and over again and snap at you for things that aren’t your fault and...and you’ll get sick of it and leave and I’m going to hate myself for it, okay?”

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Bucky held your shoulders as they started shaking. You brought a hand to cover your mouth, Bucky hushing you again. “What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

You took a shaky breath as you ran a hand over your face. “I’m just like her, Bucky. I told myself I would never let myself be like her…”

“Like who?” Bucky asked, blood already boiling at who made you feel like this.

Her.

You weren’t supposed to think about her.

You promised yourself.

“Y/n, stay with me here,” he said, guiding your face back to look at him. “Who?”

“My mother.”

Bucky looked at you for a moment. “What?”

“You know, mothers bring you into the world. They say a mother knows when something is wrong with their kid, that babies are put on their mother’s chest because the skin-to-skin contact starts the bonding process. They’re supposed to protect you, and love you, and take care of you. But then you start to get older and it’s your fault that you were born when you didn’t ask, or your dad left and it’s your fault before you even knew he was gone. All I wanted was to be told what to do and all she would do is tell me what I did wrong. I can’t be like her and the older I get the more scared I am that I’m going to hurt everyone the way that she hurt my father and me.”

You had started crying again as Bucky looked at you, both broken-hearted and furious that someone would make you feel this way. Not to mention it was your own mother.

You took another shaky breath. “I thought the world of her when I was younger. And she barely even gave me the time of day. I keep telling myself that I’m not what she thought of me, but what if I am?” you shook your head again. “And I am so scared that I’m just like her.”

“Y/n, look at me, I need you to look at me when I say this, okay?” he cupped your face with both hands, wiping away your tears with the pads of his thumbs as he looked into your eyes. “You are nothing like your mother.”

You let out a small sob. “You don’t know her.”

“I don’t need to,” he said firmly. “You are kind and gentle. You work hard and you make sure that everyone is taken care of before you even consider yourself. You aren’t going to scare me away or hurt me.” He wiped fresh tears from your eyes. “You are your own person, your mother has no say in who you get to be. Who you are. You are not your mother, and you never will be.” he said, still holding your gaze.

You held his gaze a little longer, knowing he believed what he was saying. You didn’t, not quite yet, but maybe if he believed in you, you could too. You nodded slightly, giving him the smallest of smiles. “Thank you.”

Bucky returned the small smile. “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you too,” you said, smiling.

You meant it, and you knew he did too. And maybe one day, you would love who you’d become too.

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

Text

Pain in My Heart // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: Could I please request a Bridgerton imagine where Eloise or Daphne are trying to matchmake Reader with one of their brothers (you can pick which one) but Reader actually hits it off with another brother who's in love at first sight (again, your choice!!). - @libraryoffandomsuniverse

A/N: I am so sorry for how long this has taken!! I hope I have done your request justice. I had a lot of fun writing this, I’m pretty proud of what I’ve come up so I hope you like!! Thank you for requesting! Title: Pain in My Heart - Otis Redding

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Platonic), Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Romantic)

Warnings: pining, mutual pining, awful flirting (I can't write it for the life in me), unrequited love (?), a pride and prejudice moment, love confessions, fluff, very very light angst.

Word count: 4.7k

There wasn’t a lot that Daphne and Eloise Bridgerton had in common. It was thought by their mother that due to their closeness in age, they would get along swimmingly. However, by the time that Eloise could speak for herself, it became increasingly clear that there were to be no two people different than that of Eloise and Daphne.

However, whilst the two did not share the same tastes in music or literature, they were united in the hope that they would see their elder brothers happily in love.

It is on a Wednesday in the middle of February when Daphne decides that it is time for her eldest brother, Anthony, to find a wife.

Her decision is made when Anthony stalks into the family drawing room. The only sign of his anger being the blazing of his eyes. Dramatically, he throws himself onto the closest couch, his legs stretching across the pale blue fabric as he laments the meddling of mothers.

Daphne barely represses the urge to roll her eyes. She could tell that Eloise was having a hard time not telling her brother how easy he had it in comparison to rights of women and marriage.

Thankfully, however, Anthony is saved from such a lecture by the announcement of a beloved friend. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had known the Bridgerton family for as long as she had been alive. The same age as Daphne, the two had fallen into an easy friendship that grew more cherished the more time passed.

Upon her announcement, Anthony sits up with keen interest. An action not missed by both Daphne and Eloise – they share a look, one only understood by sisters with masses of brothers.

“Dear (Y/N),” Daphne greets, standing from her chair to greet her lifelong friend, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been very well though it has only been a couple of days since you saw me last.”

Daphne laughs; a light and airy sound. “I can still miss you in that time. Come, sit by me and we can catch up.”

The two women are soon joined by Eloise who places her book down on the table, spine up so she does not lose her page. From where they sit, neither Anthony nor Benedict can hear what the women seem to be whispering about though it seems to be of a serious issue with grave looks on their faces.

Benedict decides that he doesn’t like the look of frustration on her face; the furrow of her brows. If it wouldn’t raise questions of his sanity, he would press his thumb to the furrow, smoothing out her brow so not a trace of the worry remained.

“(Y/N),” Anthony calls, interrupting the conversation currently taking place between the three women, “Would you be attending Lord and Lady Hopton’s ball later on this week? Lord Hopton has done nothing but discuss the expense being put into the event.”

(Y/N) swallows her small sip of tea, placing the cup and saucer down on the table before answering the eldest Bridgerton. “I do plan on attending,” She smiles, fiddling with her gloved fingers.

A pleased smile breaks out across Anthony’s face as he nods. Turning away from her, Anthony walks back to the pale blue couch that only mere moments ago he had thrown himself across in vexation at his dear mother. Now, he sits down gently, making sure every ounce of his nobility is on show.

Benedict cannot help but roll his eyes at the antics of his elder brother. As if on a covert mission for the crown, Benedict’s gaze slides back to her – runs over her figure, taking in the way her dress sits on her form and the way her smile lights up her whole face. He’s a fool in love, he realises, but he would rather be a fool in love with her than a fool in love with anyone else.

It’s as if he finally understands what the poets write about; how the artists never paint more than their muse. As Benedict peers down at the sketchbook in his hands, he comes to realise that he has been drawing her for months. He has found his muse and it’s close to breaking him when he sees the plotting glance shared between Daphne and Eloise.

(Y/N) sits at the table, utterly unaware of the plan being concocted between his sisters. He has the urge to scream, to yell but he keeps quiet. Benedict becomes the very definition of decorum; smiling politely at her when their eyes meet from across the room. The very moment sends his heart skipping a beat before picking up a rhythm he isn’t certain is compatible with life. He has to stop himself from reaching up to grab his chest to ensure his heart doesn’t beat right out of it.

All too soon the moment is over, and she returns to laughing with his younger sisters, but even she knows that something has changed between them. (Y/N) wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight; the very notion belonging only to fairytales, but she, herself, could not deny the thrill that overtook her body when she met the blue eyes of Benedict Bridgerton.

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Lord and Lady Hopton owned one of the last remaining Tudor residences in London. Many had fallen during the reformation, but in some strange stroke of luck, the Hopton’s home had remained largely undamaged. From there, it passed down the male line as all properties and titles were wont to do in such a society.

The current Lord and Lady prided themselves on the tracking of their lineage, dedicating themselves to the conservation of their home. It was rare for them to throw a ball such as this one, but with the favourable weather, Lady Hopton was able to convince her husband it would be well enough for the courtyard to be used to entertain their nearest and dearest.

There was no set theme; an idea many were grateful for. As much as (Y/N) loved the dress up, the competitive nature between eligible ladies wasn’t something she was in the mood for.

The atmosphere is much more relaxed as (Y/N) takes a turn about the room, smiling politely at the women she has grown up with in London society. They would be civil towards each other, but there was no real friendships forged. (Y/N) was quite content with the Bridgerton brood.

Though they had arrived together, (Y/N) found herself wandering from the comforting presence of the family. She could feel Anthony’s eyes on her, and she thinks of Daphne’s suggestion from the other day; the eldest Bridgerton girl had all but suggested that (Y/N) marry Anthony.

Whilst the suggestion was flattering, (Y/N) hadn’t stopped thinking of the moment she shared with Benedict. She thinks of the moment often; remembers the way his stare felt, as if he was staring into her very soul and he liked what he found. She thinks of the way her body responded; the shiver sent through her and how she realised that she liked the way he looked at her. As if she hung the moon and stars in the sky for him, and him alone.

(Y/N) loses herself in the crowd. She wanders and wanders, watching new love form and old love strengthen as she catches sight of couples beginning their night. (Y/N) continues her ruminating until she bumps into something hard. Another body.

(Y/N) cringes when she finds herself face to face with the chest of Benedict Bridgerton. “Benedict!” She gasps, “I’m sorry.”

He steadies her with a gentle hand to her elbow. “You have nothing to apologise for. You looked to be deep in thought, I’m only sorry for interrupting you.”

(Y/N) feels her skin begin to flush. I was thinking of you, she wants to cry at the man, but she only just manages to refrain herself.

Benedict laughs before he can stop himself. “If you’re reacting like that, I have to know what you were thinking of.”

“Nothing for nosies,” She responds, a coy smile crossing her painted lips.

Benedict gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, (Y/N).”

“I’m sure you’ll recover,” (Y/N) laughs, patting Benedict’s arm in mock pity.

“I don’t know,” Benedict expresses, his eyes running over her face and outfit. “I think I’m going to need someone to nurse me back to health.”

(Y/N) feels her skin once again begin to heat at the insinuation in his words. She had encountered banter before with the Bridgerton brothers, but she had never encountered such overt flirting. Benedict’s eyes glittered with mirth; his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes – this was him. This was Benedict in his element; he was an artist, a gentleman, and a man that could render her speechless with a simple line of speech.

She finds it hard to respond for a moment; finds it hard to string two thoughts together in his intoxicating presence. She flounders for a second, watching Benedict continue to smile widely as if he had nothing better to do than waste time with her.

Eventually, she collects herself enough. She peers up at the man from under her lashes, fluttering them to the best of her ability as she whispers, “Such requests may make the recovery period a lot longer and a lot harder.”

Leaving the man speechless, (Y/N) pats his arm once more before taking her leave. Feeling hot and bothered by her encounter with Benedict, (Y/N) ambles over to drinks table. Daphne and Eloise stand there nursing their own drinks; they smile widely at their friend as she approaches the table.

“Have you given thought to what I suggested the other day?” Daphne asks; watching her best friend over the rim of her lemonade glass.

“Courting Anthony?” (Y/N) clarifies, reaching for her glass of the tepid drink. She frowns absentmindedly; it was one of the main issues with balls, they never could keep the drinks cold enough to be refreshing throughout the night. They almost always turned sour.

“The very suggestion,” (Y/N)’s dearest friend states with a smile.

“It wouldn’t work,” (Y/N) protests, urging her friends to see the truth. “We aren’t suited for each other.”

“Anthony disagrees,” Daphne chimes, looking and feeling all to superior in the conversation. “He confided to me only yesterday that he wants to court you.”

The ground is close to swallowing her whole; the walls becoming far too close for her liking. Her mouth is dry when she tries to swallow around the lump in her throat. “That wouldn’t be fair to him,” She croaks, feeling all too close to tears.

“Why not?” Daphne demands, making her vexation known by placing her hands on her hips.

“Daphne,” Eloise interrupts, glancing warily between the two women. “(Y/N) isn’t in love with Anthony. She’s in love with someone else.”

The fight leaves her beloved friend in an instant; she brings a hand to her mouth to cover the shock of Eloise’s words. “I didn’t know,” She whispers, “I wouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” (Y/N) appeases, “I’m rather new to this.”

“Do we know who it is?” Daphne asks, unable to keep the excitement off her face as she thinks of the handful of men worthy enough to love her dear friend.

(Y/N) sighs, deciding whether to come clean and tell her longest friend that she has found herself hopelessly in love with her brother. She hadn’t even expected it. “It’s Benedict,” She eventually confesses, feeling pressured by the investigative gaze of Daphne Bridgerton.

“Benedict?” Daphne asks, confused, “As in my other brother?”

“The very same,” (Y/N) comments lightly… too lightly as if ready to be on the defence for her feelings for Benedict.

Daphne blinks once, twice before her face breaks with the most beautiful smile. “Oh (Y/N)!” She cries, “This is wonderful!”

“He might not love me back,” (Y/N) whispers, doing her best to keep a light spin on the situation but the idea that Benedict may not return her feelings hurts far more than it should.

“And Anthony still wants to court you,” Eloise reminds her, her voice close to pity.

“Speaking of the devil,” Daphne murmurs with a smile on her face, “Anthony is heading this way.”

“He is?” (Y/N) asks, pivoting on the spot to the find the eldest Bridgerton making his way through the crowd. He smiles at his sisters, briefly checking their glasses to ensure they were sticking strictly to the lemonade offered. When he is suited with what he finds, he turns to (Y/N) and holds out his hand. “Would you care to dance?” He asks her with a confident smile.

She nods her consent, taking his offered hand and allowing herself to be led to the floor. Anthony leads her expertly across the floor; lessons as a child and years in the London society forging him to be an impressive dancer. He makes her laugh as they continue dance, and whilst (Y/N) has a good time with the eldest Bridgerton, she cannot see herself falling for the man like she can see her entire future with Benedict.

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The ball had wound down naturally; families and lovers beginning to make their way home through the early morning London streets. (Y/N) travels with the Bridgertons, having arrived with them in the first place. Daphne focuses on the streets of London, doing her best not to fall asleep before getting home to her bed.

“How are you getting home?” Daphne asks, not removing her gaze from the darkened streets of the capital city.

“I’m not sure, I don’t want to have to wait for another carriage,” (Y/N) complains, holding a hand to her mouth to cover a yawn that had slipped out. The tiredness was clinging to her bones now; she wanted nothing more to crawl into her own bed, sink into the pillows and fall into a dreamworld where Benedict climbs into the other side of the bed.

“Stay with us,” Eloise invites, meeting Anthony’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t be an imposition?” (Y/N) asks smally; the last thing she wanted was to be burden on her friends.

“You never could be,” Anthony smiles, “You’re always welcome to stay the night.”

“Thank you, Anthony,” She whispers, reaching for his hand in the dark and squeezing.

Silence falls for the rest of the ride; the weariness of each of them punctuating the air, creating a warmer atmosphere that leaves (Y/N) blinking away sleep. Eloise does her best to remain awake, but her head soon winds up on Anthony’s shoulder to which the man looks the surprised. He recovers quickly, adjusting his younger sister to make her more comfortable.

The Bridgerton siblings and (Y/N) all sigh in blessed relief when the carriage rolls to a stop outside Bridgerton House. The door opening lets in a cold blast of air, making her shiver as she reaches for the handle to help herself down.

“Here,” Benedict’s voice sounds in the dark light of night, “Let me help you.”

His hand reaches for hers; it clasps hers gently as he helps her down from the carriage. All too soon, his hand falls from hers and (Y/N) is left feeling bereft from the absence of his touch. “Thank you,” She whispers, taking a risk and glancing up at the blue eyes already fixed steadily on her.

“You’re welcome,” He murmurs. Benedict glances back to the carriage to find the rest of his family descending on them. “Goodnight,” He whispers, ducking his head in a bow and leaving her on the steps of Bridgerton House.

(Y/N) watches the man depart in somewhat of a daze. If she focused hard enough, she could still feel his hand in hers. She could feel every fingerprint, every crease, every line in his palm. She could feel it all; she wanted to feel more. She wanted everything with that man; would happily offer up her everything for a single glimpse at what it could be like to wake up in his arms and be happy.

Sighing heavily, she touches a hand to her forehead, pausing in the grand entryway of the Bridgerton family home. She felt so keenly for the man that she knew she would suffer the worst fate to man should he not return her feelings: heartbreak.

“(Y/N)?” Anthony calls from the door, his arm around Eloise’s waist. “Would you meet me in my study? I need to talk to you.”

“Of course,” She allows, smiling at the sight before her. Anthony whispers something to his sister to which Eloise offers her goodnights and begins to climb the stairs to her room, Anthony following behind her with a worried look on his face that only a beloved brother could master.

Anthony’s study smelled of wood polish; the mahogany desk sitting by the windows being the main feature of the room. It’s dark wood providing the much of the fragrance in the room; it’s a comforting scent. (Y/N) smiles when she realises that it’s comforting as it reminds her of the Viscount; the scent of his spicy cologne intermingled with the wood, becoming one and the same.

“Thank you for waiting,” Anthony whispers, closing the door behind him, “I know how tired you are, but I really wanted to speak to you.”

“Whatever’s the matter?”

Suddenly, Anthony no longer holds the prowess of a Viscount but rather, looks like the eighteen year old boy handed a peerage all too soon. He runs a hand through his hair out of nerves, pacing back and forth behind his desk. Eventually, he comes to a slow stop, resting his hands on the back of his father’s ageing chair. “Have you given any thought to your future?”

“It’s been on my mind more and more these days,” She answers honestly. It’s all she has thought of since her eyes met Benedict’s across the room and she got a glimpse into what her mornings, afternoons, evenings with the man could be like.

“I think we could be good together,” Anthony argues, offering up a slice of his heart for the taking, “I think we work well together.”

“Anthony, may I be honest with you for a moment?”

“I’d hope for nothing more.”

She takes a deep breath; steeling her nerves before smiling at the Viscount. “With all due respect, I don’t think you do love me.”

Anthony moves to interrupt her; a flash of anger and upset in his eyes. He quietens when she holds up a single hand; begging him to let her continue. “Anthony, I think you were looking for someone to stop your mother from pestering you about marriage. I just happened to walk into the room at the right moment.”

Anthony frowns; he takes in (Y/N)’s words, letting them roll around his mind as he thinks back to the first day when he realised he could truly love the woman sitting in front of him. Violet Bridgerton had been on him from the moment he walked through the front door; producing yet another list of eligible women in London that he could find a potential match in. He had taken the list from his beloved mother and in the privacy of his study, he had ripped the list to tiny pieces making sure that none of the names were legible.

On some level, he has always loved her. (Y/N) had been in his life from the very day she was born; mother being friends, Violet able to offer (Y/N)’s advice as she was her firstborn. At this point, Violet was a seasoned expert on motherhood. Anthony had always known of the girl that was best friends with Daphne; he had watched her grow up. On some level, he has always had some feeling for her.

He knows know, though, that those feelings could never broach romance. There was too deep an affection between them.

“You’re right,” Anthony states, “It wouldn’t be a love match.”

“It wouldn’t,” She affirms, taking a seat in front of the large, wooden desk. Silhouettes of his parents and siblings decorate the space; it brings a fond smile to her face. Anthony presented a strong front, but in private, he was as much the adoring son and brother.

“But you think you have found your love match,” Anthony declares, wanting to clear the air.

“I’m not sure,” She laughs mirthlessly. “I have no clue as to whether he feels the same.”

“He’d be an idiot, not to,” Anthony compliments, “Do I know the lucky man?”

(Y/N) looks sheepish as she stares at the Viscount. She had already confessed to Daphne and Eloise – what harm could one more person do?

“It’s Benedict.”

“You love him,” Anthony whispers; not an accusation, not an ounce of anger in his voice. A simple fact stated for the room.

(Y/N) nods. “I do. I love him with all that I am and all that I know I could be.”

A sad, bittersweet smile crosses Anthony’s face; he won’t speak of how the words hurt him. He reaches for her hand and clasps it tightly between both of his.

“Go to him,” He whispers, “You have my blessing.”

(Y/N) stands. Her intention is to leave the room and find the Bridgerton who had so readily taken root within her heart, but first she crosses to where Anthony stands behind his desk. He watches her with curious eyes as the silk of her glove brushes his cheek; his eye flutter closed when he feels the featherlight press of her lips and the whisper of her gratitude.

Anthony keeps his eyes closed when she pulls away from him; he keeps them closed until he hears the tell-tale click of the door. It is only then that Anthony allows himself to open his eyes and peer into the heartbreak now cracking open his chest. Not for the love he though he felt, but for the utter want racing through his body. He wants a love like that; he was going to find a love like that.

They would be happy together; he thinks to himself as he breathes in the floral scent of her perfume. They would be happy together, perfectly suited to the point that Anthony craves such intimacy. One day; he promises, one day he would hold such a treasure within his hands.

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

Bridgerton House remained warm and inviting even after the family had long retired for bed. The sconces lining the walls still lit; their warm light easy on anyone’s eyes should they need to traverse the hallways for whatever reason.

The path to Benedict’s room isn’t one she has taken often. Thinking on it, (Y/N) realises that save for being shown the door on her first ever visit to the London home, she has not stepped foot close to the room since. Until tonight, that is.

Her skirts swish delicately underfoot as (Y/N) makes her way to his room. She doesn’t dare utter a single breath for the fear of being caught; all around her slumber her closest friends. If she were caught by a member of staff, her reputation balanced on being ruined.

Her hand trembles as she clenches it into a fist, raises it to the plain white door and knocks twice. She waits on the threshold, twisting her fingers into her skirts �� a nervous habit she’s had since she was a child. She was thankful that she no longer bit her nails down to the bed.

“Come in,” calls his quiet voice and her nerves only heighten. Taking a deep breath, she pushes open the door that could reveal her future.

“(Y/N),” Benedict gasps, the deep v of his shirt falling open, revealing far more of his bare chest than (Y/N) had expected to see tonight.

“I wanted to talk to you,” She whispers, hovering between the doorway and his room. She does her best to not stare at the defined muscles on display but loses the battle. Her eyes run over the parts of his muscular torso and the strong forearms shown with the sleeves of white shirt rolled up. She didn’t think it was possible to be attracted to the forearms of a person, but here was Benedict proving her wrong.

“What if you get caught?” He whisper-asks, worry lacing his tone as he glances at something behind her. She turns on instinct only to find an empty hallway and three lit sconces.

“Anthony knows where I am,” She retorts, stepping further into Benedict’s room.

“Anthony?”

“He gave me his blessing.”

“To enter my room… unattended… late at night?”

“Essentially, yes,” She smiles, thinking back to her conversation with the Viscount.

“Why were you talking to Anthony?” Benedict asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t like the simmering jealousy he feels that the picture of (Y/N) alone with Anthony in his study. He clears his throat to chase away the hollow ache of envy; he doesn’t want to picture the conversation. He doesn’t think he could handle it.

“He asked me to court him.”

“Oh,” Benedict responds, feeling his heart begin to crack in his chest. “What did you say?”

“I told him I couldn’t. We wouldn’t suit each other and one other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“I don’t love him. I love someone else.”

“You do? Do I know them?”

(Y/N) laughs, stretching her arms out as she gestures to Benedict’s bedroom. “I’m stood in your room in the middle of the night, Benedict, with full knowledge that if I were to be caught by any of the staff, I would be ruined. What does that tell you?”

Benedict frowns, refusing to let himself fall into the hope growing in his chest. He feels like Icarus; too close to the sun, too close to thing he wants most in this world.

“Stop this pain in my heart,” She commands weakly. “Stop this pain and tell me if you feel the same. If you don’t, I understand but I’d ask you not to tell anyone of this midnight visit.”

His mouth runs dry, and he finds it hard to answer. He’s falling, falling, falling for the woman stood across from him and he cannot find the words to accurately describe the depth of his feelings for her. That day in the drawing room – he’s known her for years, always been aware of her, but that day, it was as if he was finally seeing her for the pure beauty that she inhabits. She could rival Aphrodite herself.

Upset shutters across (Y/N)’s face as she nods twice, trying her best to keep the burn of tears at bay. “It’s okay, Benedict,” She whispers, turning for the door, “Thank you for listening.”

At the last moment, Benedict reaches out and snatches her wrist. “Don’t go,” He pleads, “Don’t leave me. I don’t think I could live with myself if you left me.”

“I don’t understand,” She whispers; confusion lacing her voice. Her eyebrows furrow as she stares at the man before her, “You didn’t say anything. You stayed silent; I took that as my cue to leave.”

Benedict shakes his head. “Don’t go,” He whispers, bringing a hand up to card through the loose strands of hair framing her face. He almost preens as she leans into his touch. “I feel the same, I love you just the same,” Benedict confesses; feeling the weight leave his chest.

“You do?” She asks; her voice small but hopeful.

“I do,” Benedict smiles, brushing her cheek with his finger, “I think I always have, but I didn’t realise until recently.”

(Y/N) sniffles as tears threaten to make an appearance. She laughs wetly, unable to stop the giggle from leaving her mouth as Benedict wipes away the tears. “I hope those are happy tears,” He murmurs wryly.

“They are,” She answers, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her level. “They definitely are.”

“Good,” He answers.

Their faces are so close now it would only take a fraction of a movement to press their lips together; to seal the promise of their union. “Kiss me, Benedict,” She whispers; need lacing her voice as she stares into his famously blue eyes.

Benedict doesn’t need to be told twice; it isn’t often he gets to kiss a goddess.

********

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @magicalxdaydream @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley @spideysz

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durmstrange · 4 years ago

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Don’t Go - Newt Scamander

Welcome to my newest Newt blurb!

enjoy!

word count: 1,506

Throughout life, you had always been rather unsure of yourself. You never knew what you wanted to do with your life, or even how you felt about anything. With most aspects of your life, you were just unsure general.

Throughout your schooling, this made life rather difficult when others tried to court you or get you to open up to them. Rather than trusting someone or even knowing how you felt, you often pushed others away and favored solidarity over friendship. Despite this policy of yours, there was one student you were simply unable to push away. Newt Scamander met you in his first year, and although he was typically an outcast, he did not allow you to push him away. ��And, oddly enough, you didn’t fight it too much.

Over time, you only got closer and closer to Newt. The day he was expelled from Hogwarts, your heart shattered and the rest of your life at Hogwarts was bleak.

Every holiday and time away from school was spent with Newt, where ever he was at the time, and when you finally graduated from Hogwarts, you and Newt were inseparable once more. You lived in the same quiet apartment, in separate rooms, both going to your jobs at the Ministry of Magic every day, and even going on various endeavors together to all kinds of foreign lands.

People often assumed the two of you were married, but, rather honestly, neither of you knew much what you were to each other. Given your personalities, you didn’t talk about it.

You were personally convinced that you and Newt were soulmates, destined to be together, but you never actually expressed this to him. You were mainly platonic with Newt. Of course, given the fact that you were two grown adults living a rather intimate life with one another, there has been instances where you slept with Newt, and shamefully, those were the best nights of your life.

The next morning, you were silent about what happened and acted as if nothing had actually happened, but your slightly reddened faces and side glances while caring for Newt’s creatures the following morning told otherwise.

As your life progressed and Newt’s did as well, you found yourself getting anxious with how things were going to end with you. You wanted a husband and a family, and there was a nagging thought in the back of your head that told you if you didn’t leave Newt and go on your own, none of that would ever happen. You began scoping out opportunities in your future for you to move out of country entirely, and start new.

Of course, you didn’t want to leave Newt. Up until now, he has been your everything. Your shoulder to cry on, your laughs, your smiles, and just about anything else. You just wanted more. You wanted his last name, to have his children, and there was an aching feeling he wouldn't be too keen on that.

One Wednesday afternoon, you were informed that there was a job opening in America for MACUSA, in which you would work in the same position you were in now. In mere hours, you were informed that the job was yours if you wanted it.

That night, as you sat across from Newt at the dinner table, stirring your tea absentmindedly, you contemplated how to bring the position up to Newt. As you thought, he spoke without looking up from his book and meal. “What’s bothering you?” He asked quietly, his eyes low.

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. “How do you know something’s bothering me?” You questioned in return, causing Newt to finally look up at you.

With a crooked smile, he motioned to your tea. “You have added triple the sugar and double the cream you usually have.” He replied, causing your heartbeat to pick up. “You’re also suspiciously quiet.” He glanced at his watch and continued, “Around this time, you usually tell me about work. Did something happen at work?” He asked you further and caused your mouth to run dry. Why was he so good at reading you? It wasn’t out of character for Newt to know how you felt before you knew yourself.

You bit your lip and looked away from Newt. His freckles and innocent eyes were too much for you at the moment. “Erm, kind of, yeah.” You answered ambiguously, setting your spoon down next to your tea. As you looked down at it, it was truly far too light. Newt marked his place in his book and set his fork down, looking at you worriedly. Why were you acting so oddly unintentionally? “Newt, we’re getting old.” You sighed, putting your head in your hands as your elbows rested on the table. You really didn’t want to look at Newt right now.

He tilted his head to the side. “How do you mean?”

With a quick breath, you spoke bravely. “I mean that I only have so long to get married and start a family, and I have a feeling no man will want to be with a woman who is already living with another man. Quite frankly, more than living.” You told your closest friend, whose face reddened as it did the morning after intimacy, and you put your head back into your hands. “There’s a job in America, for MACUSA, and it is mine for the taking.” You finished and felt tears pricking at your eyes. Why was this so hard?

Newt swallowed hard, so hard you could hear it, and you knew he was struggling to keep calm. You knew him too well. “You want to leave?” His voice squeaked and it reminded you of the day he was expelled from Hogwarts. The thought made you feel like you were about to be sick on the kitchen floor.

“No! No, Newt, I don’t want to leave. I would love to be here forever, with you, the creatures, the beasts, even with the Nifflers. In fact, that is my dream.” Your voice broke as the tears that formed in your eyes fell down your cheeks rather unceremoniously. You sucked a sharp breath in, holding it for just a moment. “I love you, Newt. In more ways than just as a friend. But life isn’t very long, and I want more.” Your voice was coming out at just above a whisper by now, and Newt was on the verge of falling apart. You could see it in his eyes and the way his scarred hands shook.

Without a word, Newt stood and walked around the table quickly. He stood in front of you and as you looked at him, you saw something unfamiliar in his eyes. Slowly, he got down on one knee and took your hands into yours. “(Y/N), will you marry me?” Newt asked you with a crooked smile playing on his freckled lips.

Your eyes widened to the size of saucers and you looked at Newt incredulously. Was this some cruel joke? Did he think you were being funny? “You can’t be serious.” You managed to get out of your mouth as you continued to stare at your friend, tears streaking down your face.

With the smile still playing on his lips, your friend nodded. “I am. It is rather long overdue.” He insisted, growing nervous as you stared at him. “Sweetheart,” he began, using the only pet name he has ever called you, “you have been by my side through every bit of my life. Even the worst bits, you never left me once.” Newt murmured, rubbing his calloused thumbs on the back of your soft hand rhythmically. “I’ve been foolish to lead you on so long. I love you and I have for a very long time and I am now asking you to marry me, so I can love you for a very long time after today.” Newt told you as you sunk onto the floor with him, landing on your knees and staring at him pathetically.

With a hesitant look, you asked one final question. “You actually want this?” Newt nodded and the tears falling down your face were no longer of pain. They were blissful tears falling from your face as you threw your arms around Newt, holding him tightly. “I’d love to marry you.” You murmured in his ear, and his arms wrapped around you just as tightly, burying his face into the crook of your neck and smiling widely.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again with this ‘leaving’ business.” Newt warned you as he pulled away.

With a light blush playing at your cheeks, you laughed. “Well, what do we do now?” You asked him honestly as he kissed your forehead.

Newt thought for a moment, and then he checked the watch on your wrist, and he smiled widely. “Do you want to go get married?” He asked you eagerly with a boyish grin on his face.

“Now?”

“Yes!”

With a laugh, you checked your watch as well, and nodded feverishly. “We better hurry!”

#newt scamander #newt scamander fanfiction #Newt Scamander fanfic #Newt Scamander imagine #Newt Scamander one shot #Newt Scamander oneshot #harry potter #Harry Potter fanfic #Harry Potter fanfiction #fantastic beasts fanfiction #durmstrange

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agadorable · 5 years ago

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May 3rd

Hi again,

I have a therapy appointment on Tuesday. I have no idea what I should talk about though. Like.... where do you start? This will be my first appointment and I feel like there’s just so much, and I need to sift through it and figure out what the meat of my appointment should be.

I saw a counselor for a month or so last year. Maybe it was more than a year ago... It was during my divorce. I told my husband that I didn’t want to be with him anymore, that I’d reached the end of my rope and had nothing left to give. He kept pushing and pushing and saying that he could change if I just gave him another chance. I told him I’d given him nothing but chances and this is what the end of the road looked like, that I couldn’t stay in this life anymore and if I didn’t make a change then I was afraid of what that would leave me with.

Hurting him was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. He hurt me in so many ways. He broke me down to nothing and still... all I feel is guilt that I hurt him.

When I told him this, he sprung to action. He was convinced that if he just got me to talk to a professional they would tell me that I’m seriously depressed and anxious and that’s why I’m lashing out at my marriage. Together they could ‘get me the help that I need’ and we could stay together.

He found a counselor and made an appointment. He wanted us to go together but I and the counselor agreed that maybe just talking one on one would be best for the first one. He was so caring and supportive and did all the things I’d been asking him to do for years. He reached out to my friends and told them that I was going through a really hard time and could use their support. He cleaned our bedroom and found pictures of my dead best friends. He propped them up front and center on my desk and hugged me after showing me the clean room he’d worked so hard on. “I just thought you’d like to have those out so you can see them,” he said into my ear as he hugged me. In that moment.... it felt so manipulative. He’d made me an appointment and then put it out to all my friends that I was struggling. He showed me pictures of my friends to make me sink lower. He wanted me as broken as I could be so that he could put me back together, and be the hero.

I went to my very first therapy appointment at 8pm on a Wednesday. By 8:15 I was being told that my marriage is a textbook example of emotionally abusive.

You know when your reality kind of... shifts? Like when you learn what sex is, or that everyone ha to eventually get their wisdom teeth removed, or you get diagnosed with something for life. Everything looks a little different. Some doors close and others open. That’s what it was.

At first, I thought... yeah but everyone could say that about their relationship a little, that’s just a trigger happy counselor wanting to point you in a direction, give you something to work with. So I took it in stride, tried not to over analyze. I went over the things I’d said in the first 15 minutes and thought I might’ve exaggerated a bit.

Then I left.

I sat in my car for a very long time. No radio, no phone, no cigarette, just silence. I stared at the fence and the falling snow and tried to figure out where to go from here.

I went home.

I went into the basement and sat on the couch. I might have texted my roommate and best friend before I left the parking lot, but I can’t be sure.

Also I didn’t have a couch, I sat on the busted armchair with the arm that’s falling off. I stared at the blank tv in front of me and he came tentatively into the living room. He asked what she said and then said that I didn’t have to talk about it. I sat and thought while he stood and wondered. I stared straight ahead and said ‘she told me that this sounds like a textbook example of an emotionally abusive relationship.’

He stood there, silent. I could see the anger and hurt building behind his eyes and then being forced back so that he could smile and tell me that that’s a really hard thing for him to hear, and that he’s going to think about the way he’s been acting and how it can be interpreted by me as abusive.

Here’s the thing, he never had any restraint. He would blow up at the drop of a hat and not care where we were. He’s thrown drinks at our roommates and then we laughed it off as playing around. He kicked a garbage can across the room and said that he tripped. He threw my cat across the room when he dug his claws into his leg accidentally and then fell to the floor like he’d been stabbed. He reacts and then deals with it later.

But right then, he was very calculated. He knew if he blew up then it would prove my point, and he needed to prove me wrong.

I’ve never been that numb before. It’s like I’d taken so much that I was full, and no longer had the ability to take any more, to feel any more. I’d said the words, ‘I want a divorce,’ and all that was left now was to stick to it. Dig in your heels, don’t let up, don’t slip backwards, don’t let go, you’re almost there, you’re almost free.

Thank god I have roommates. I never wanted to live with him alone. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust him to pay bills, or keep a job, or to treat me with respect when there’s no one there to impress, no witnesses to confirm that he’s a loving husband.

Don’t get me wrong, he was a very loving husband, I think. He was lots of fun and could be very helpful if the circumstances were right. We were together for eight years, there were of course good times. But the thing is... They don’t feel like they happened in my life. They happened in someone else’s. I was slowly thickening my walls, creating coping mechanisms, telling myself that everything was fine, looking for flaws in other’s relationships to validate mine.

I had very different reactions from my friends when I told them what I was told in therapy. Here’s the thing, most all of my friends were his friends first. Not all of them, but most. He’s got really, really good friends. They all told me that I was too good for him, and how lucky he was to have found me. They became my friends, and my support system. We lived with a married couple, and he had known them since high school, me since we started dating. They were not surprised. B was like, ‘yeah that seems about right.’ J was sad. He’d known G the longest, and put up with more abuse in their friendship than anyone over the years. He didn’t want to accept it, and hoped that things might be okay, but they weren’t. They were broken.

Now C was our friend from Pizza Hut, where G and I first met. We all worked together for years and became really close. Eventually, C moved onto another restaurant, and I followed a couple years later. Then a couple years after that, G came to join us there too. C officiated our wedding, and was always a huge support of our marriage. I never told her the really bad things, because I felt like showing that our marriage wasn’t perfect would be kind of like throwing away the gift they got you. I felt like I’d let her down.

I came to work and she asked right away, ‘how’d it go?’ I told her, and I could see her pulling away, putting up walls. She shook her head and said, ‘I feel like that’s something being thrown around a lot recently, and that people are too quick to jump to that conclusion.’ I don’t know if that was the exact wording but I know it hurt. It hurt really bad. It felt like I was making it up, like it wasn’t real, like I had to man up and not act like a victim.

Weeks later, maybe a month, I met up with C again. By that point I’d shared more of what had been happening. How he’d try to have sex with me while he (and I) was asleep, and then swear that he didn’t remember. Almost every night I’d have to try and push off 200 pounds of my 6′3′’ husband, shake him awake and yell for him to stop. HIs eyes were open when he did this, but his eyes weren’t seeing me. For all I know he had no control over himself, but after enough times, that doesn’t matter anymore. It would happen when he was awake too. I had to wear bras and pants and long shirts to bed or it would be too much for him to handle. We’d start by cuddling and soon he’s forcefully humping my hip or my ass and grabbing my chest, then pulling away and saying ‘sorry! God I’m so sorry, you’re just so sexy.’ I’d laugh softly and say ‘it’s okay, I’m sorry I’m just really tired.’

That would go on and on until he got mad that I wouldn’t let him go for it, or I would give in and let him. I’d sometimes get into it if I shut off my brain enough. If I stayed too present in my mind it would start to hurt, it would feel wrong, and I would panic and make him stop. But if I did that, it ended with me crying and apologizing and him feeling hurt and betrayed. It was easier to go somewhere else, and cry silently to myself after he started snoring.

C started seeing how G was acting at work. He was pulling people into private conversations and planting seeds of doubt on my behalf. He was talking about how much he’s trying and how little I was .How mean I was being and how much he still loved me. His smile was ever present, and he was always doing things to publicly help me and show me affection. It was manipulative, and effective.

I was talking to C and something in our friendship shifted. She said to me that she understood now, and she could see what I was talking about. She said that she was defensive because she didn’t see it before, and also that my situation was a little too familiar to her own, and hearing it labeled like that was hard. I completely understood. Looking in the mirror is fucking hard; you can put up with way more than you think, for way longer than you should.

I lost some friends, but none that I miss. It was a horrible time. He wouldn’t move out, so we had to do it for him. I wasn’t allowed to be home alone with him, but I had to work with him. He was served divorce papers at work. I agreed to go to one couple’s therapy appointment with him, on Valentine’s day, the day we first met.

G had started seeing a therapist on his own, and said that he was very depressed, and that’s why he was acting the way he was, and that he needed help with his issues and we could fix things.

When we got to the couple’s appointment, I noticed that there were a lot of pamphlets and signs about addiction and substance abuse. We went into a back room and started talking. Immediately, his argument shifted. All of our problems were suddenly because of my drinking, his put use, and our recent use of cocaine. We were addicts whose addiction was causing us to fall apart, that our problems weren’t real, and we couldn’t possibly separate before ditching the substances and going from there.

Here’s the thing... he’s right. Drugs were a huge problem in our relationship. I took a hit of weed early on, and he almost left me. He was disgusted that I’d do that and said he couldn’t be with someone who smoked weed. Okay, fine, I don’t even really like weed, it makes me sick and panicky. A year or so later he started smoking it. I said that I didn’t want him to do it all the time, but I understood that it was calming and if he wanted to occasionally that was fine. It turned into a bowl every couple of hours throughout the day, and I held my tongue. I brought it up once and it caused a fight, and he said that it helped keep his sex drive down since I would never have sex with him anyway.

Then, at a friend’s bachelorette party, I tried coke. And damn... I loved it. I was so ashamed of myself when I admitted to him that I tried it. He wasn’t upset, and said he wanted to try it too. So we did, and then we didn’t stop. I was working two jobs and like 75 hours a week at the time, and being able to stay up and read a book after I got home was frankly awesome. But then the next day would come. The next day is the worst. You’re so low, and everything is awful, and you never want to be sober again. I did let us continue to spend my money on it for a while, I did. But after a while, my extra cash was gone, and I was worried about the effects it was having on my mental health. I told him over and over that I wanted to stop, that we shouldn’t do it anymore, not to ask me because it was too easy to make an exception and say ‘just one more time.’

I don’t know if that’s fair. I don’t know if it was all his fault that we kept going, that my money was disappearing. I started hiding it in different places, pretending that I was just trying to save it. But he would find it. He’d ask in a way that I couldn't say no to. It started causing big problems, and I was afraid of the path that I was going down. My savings was gone, I was losing weight, and I didn’t feel anything anymore. But still, he’d be in a situation where it just made sense to buy more, and could he please just borrow my debit card? He’d pay me back as soon as he could.

It got to the point that enough was enough.

The fight in the snow.

J and B were out of town, and we had the house to ourselves. We didn’t have any drugs, I had to work in the morning and didn’t want to do anything. He came downstairs, looking a little tipsy, which meant he was very drunk. He told me that he had an idea for my birthday, he wanted to get backstage vip passes to see of Monsters and Men. Now, I know like one song. Maybe it was a different band, I don’t remember. Either way, it was a band that I liked but wasn’t important enough to me to justify spending 400 dollars of my money so that we could go see and meet them on my birthday. Because he didn’t have any money at this point. He was working 12 hours a week and hadn’t found anything else yet.

I told him, as gently as I could, that I thought that was a great idea but that maybe we could just get regular tickets since they’re not one of my favorite bands and maybe saving our money was more important.

He broke. Instantly he was a failure, I hated the idea he had worked so hard on, that he had put so much thought into. He drank more. He went and smoked a bowl, then another. He put pizza in the oven. He started some toast.

I came upstairs when I heard something burning. he was swaying, listening to music in his phone, and the toaster was smoking. I popped the toast and asked if he wanted me to make him some more toast since this burned. He started muttering about how I just thought he was drunk, that he was just a drunk asshole again. He said that I’m better off without him and should just leave him.

I tried to talk him down, to say that I didn’t think he was stupid or an asshole, I just wanted to help him with the toast. He said he was just going to leave and grabbed his keys. His keys to the car that I bought him. It was our roommate’s car and he was trying to sell it. G borrowed it and hit another car, so instead of repairing it I just bought it off our roommate.

G was way too drunk to drive. I went outside after him and said that he was NOT driving tonight, and to please just come back inside. He turned to me and shouted something. I don’t remember because the look on his face was terrifying. It was like he didn’t even recognize me. He turned and threw his keys as hard as he could into the snow. It was 2 in the morning by this point, and there are no street lights in our neighborhood.

I said to him,’did you really just throw your keys??’ And he said, quietly, ‘you see what happens when you make me mad?’ That’s when I shut down. I’d had enough, there was no coming back from that point. That sentence spoke volumes about the past 8 years, and I had had enough.

I searched for his keys for hours because he wouldn’t come inside until he found them, and he was never going to find them. I came inside, pulled his burned pizza out of the oven, and he collapsed on the kitchen floor and started sobbing. He said he was a piece of shit and he treated me like shit, that I deserved better. I combed his hair with my fingers, his head in my lap, and told him that he was wrong, that I loved him, and that I wanted to be with him.

The next morning I woke up at 7, found his keys right away, hung them on the hook, and went to work. He texted hours later telling me that he was sorry and could I ever forgive him? I said yes, and didn’t even know I was lying.

So yeah... There’s that. I’ve got a lot of issues. I’m not sure how many of them are mine and how many of them were learned from G, but I’ve got em. And I don’t really know where to start in talking about them. I guess we’ll just have to see on Tuesday!

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 5 years ago

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The French Connection - Chapter 1

A HardyxMiller AU

Ellie Miller is left to go on her honeymoon alone after a devastating secret about her fiance comes to light - halfway through the wedding ceremony. Sitting in St Pancras International in London waiting for her train, she runs into none other than her uni rival/best friend Alec Hardy, on the run from his own recent heartbreak.

They decide to make use of Ellie’s pre-paid trip, rekindling their friendship and escaping real life; yet, it turns out their years at uni are the hardest to outrun. Based on this prompt from @timepetalscollective

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday and Sunday. Beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma

Masterlist | AO3

---

Ellie Miller sat slumped over a table for two, picking at her unappetizing, healthy breakfast wrap as she waited for her train. She still had twenty minutes before she could begin boarding, and despite having already made the effort of getting into London, wasn’t even certain she would be on the train when it pulled out.

In fact, she might be quite happy to remain at this table forever. No one who knew her, no one to bother her, offer advice or sympathy, scold or belittle her. She might, if she was lucky, never have to hear her own name ever again.

“Millah?”

Spoke too soon, she thought bitterly, eyes slipping closed and turning her head away from the direction of the voice, hoping whoever it was would believe they were mistaken and continue on.

“The hell are you doing?”

Her eyes snapped open as her table jostled, and sure enough, it was exactly who she’d suspected (feared) now in front of her.

“Fuck off.”

While most men would cower at her vitriolic tone and icy stare, Alec Hardy had been her rival for top of the class at uni, and was therefore all but immune to her intimidation tactics. Being a Scot, he probably considers that a friendly greeting, she rolled her eyes.

He’d helped himself to the chair opposite her, folding his arms on the table and leaning towards her, that curious look in his eye that said he thought he was on the scent of something. “Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine? I thought I was the grumpy one. I distinctly remember you ordering it to be so.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and despite her irritation, hers quirked in response.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Running away. You?”

“The same.”

Staring down at her sad breakfast, she could no longer stomach the thought, and pushed it across the table at her one-time schoolmate. “Here, it’s rabbit food, you’ll like it.”

Hardy made a face, poking at it, before shrugging. “Thanks.” He took a bite, grimacing as he chewed, and gingerly set it back down. “You know attempted murder’s a crime, don’t you?”

“You should arrest the bloke in the shop then, ‘cause he promised me it was good.”

That got her a soft laugh, and they sat in silence for a minute, not quite meeting each other’s eye.

“So, how long has it been?” he eventually asked, brow furrowing as if trying to do the math himself and getting nowhere.

“Eight years?” She hadn’t seen him since graduation – or more specifically, the morning after graduation. Involuntarily, her cheeks flushed at the memory.

Hardy froze for just a moment. “Right,” he said, perfectly neutrally, the moment growing more awkward by the second as they both tried to pretend everything was normal.

“What’re you running from?” Ellie asked, just to change the subject, before wincing.

“My girlfriend was having an affair with one of our coworkers, I decked him in the middle of the bullpen, and am now on forced vacation.” He rolled his eyes, slumping down in his chair. “I’d been working thirty-six hours straight so they let me off with just a warning, but strongly suggested I take the next two weeks off.”

Ellie hummed in sympathy, cuddling her coffee cup to her chest to resist the temptation to reach out to him. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “Me too.” He paused a moment, before glancing up with a wry grin. “It was a shitty punch, didn’t even break his nose.”

She laughed, some of her tension easing, though it reappeared instantly when he continued speaking.

“What about you? What’re you running from?”

“Eurostar, London to Paris, now boarding. This is the first call for Eurostar to Paris.”

That was her, but she ignored the announcement to confess, “Yesterday was my wedding day. Halfway through the ceremony, my husband-to-be was arrested on child porn charges.”

“Shit.” Hardy’s eyes went wide, and let off a low whistle. “Shit. Sorry, yeah, that’s worse.”

“It’s not a competition,” she tried to laugh, lower lip wobbling. Don’t cry. Whatever you do, do not cry in front of Hardy. “But, thanks. Anyway, I’m off on our honeymoon alone. Maybe. Where are you headed, though? Where’re you spending your time off?”

He shook his head, shrugging. “I was just going to buy the cheapest ticket and see where it took me. Anywhere but here, you know?”

“You could come with me,” slipped out before she even thought about it, cheeks flaming as she realized what she’d said.

“What?”

“I have two tickets,” she explained, ignoring the little voice saying what’re you doing? Wouldn’t you rather be alone? “Everything’s paid for, and I promise not to ask about your ex if you don’t ask about mine.”

“Second call for Eurostar to Paris. All passengers please make their way to Track Two for boarding.”

Hardy stared at her, a slightly incredulous expression on his face, but after a moment, he shrugged. “What the hell. If you’re sure, why not?”

“Excellent!” Ellie chirped, jumping up and grabbing her luggage. “Shall we go, then?”

As soon as they found seats and settled in, Ellie fell asleep against the window, leaving Alec alone with his thoughts as he watched the countryside fly past.

Eight years, he wondered, slightly amazed. Has it really been that long? In some ways, it did feel that way – it felt like ages since she’d been a part of his life, and it had been jarring, going from seeing her near every day to never again. They’d had a complicated friendship while in school to say the least, one that barely even qualified for the word ‘friendship’, but it was the best description he had.

In other ways, it felt like only yesterday they were antagonizing each other, fighting for top of the class and trying to out-perform each other. In the moment, he hadn’t realized how much fun it was to have her for a sparring partner. For as much as they would argue, it never felt like fighting.

Focusing on her reflection in the window, he considered the utter coincidence that they had both ended up at St Pancras’ on the same morning wanting to run away from their relationship problems. He wouldn’t go so far as to say it was fate, given he didn’t really believe in the concept, but he also didn’t believe in coincidences after so long as a detective, and yet running into her had to be one.

If nothing else, this will be a memorable trip.

Doubts plagued Ellie as soon as the train began to move, and she quickly feigned sleep to avoid any conversation.

Apparently she feigned a bit too well, because the next thing she knew Hardy was gently shaking her shoulder.

“We’re here,” he said quietly, and she sat up, yawning and brushing the hair from her face, horrified to find a bit of crusted drool on the side of her mouth, which she tried to frantically swipe away as they shuffled off the train into Paris’ famed Gare du Nord dragging their luggage behind them.

“Now what?” Hardy asked when they came to a stop in a relatively quiet, out of the way corner, and Ellie let go of her suitcase to dig through her purse for the folder she’d made with all the arrangements.

Yawning again, she re-committed the hotel address to memory before safely storing the documents. “Taxi to the hotel.” She reached for her suitcase again, only to find his hand already there.

“I got this,” he shook his head, “you just lead the way.”

Feeling disoriented for so many reasons that had nothing to do with the foreign country or language, she led him through the train station and out onto the street, joining the queue for a taxi. Thankfully it moved quickly, and soon enough, they were settled in a cab and winding their way through Paris.

“Look at this,” she murmured, staring out the window at the architecture flying by. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” They didn’t pass any famous sites on the way, but Ellie wasn’t bothered; she’d be seeing them soon enough.

On the plus side, I’ll actually get to accomplish my itinerary instead of staying in bed all day, she thought wryly, focusing on Hardy’s reflection in the glass. He was looking out the other window, which was probably for the best. She was still more than a bit stunned at his presence, but after the chaos of the previous twenty-four hours, it was low on the ‘shock’ factor. And he’s certainly not going to ask me about Joe.

The thought of her former fiancé hurt, but she couldn’t quite muster the energy to cry – she’d spent the entire night doing that, curled up alone in her bed, sobbing why? over and over.

She’d hadn’t gotten an answer.

The driver cleared his throat, and she realized they had arrived at their hotel. Situated on the north side of the Seine directly across from the Île de la Cité, it offered an amazing view of the city, and was conveniently located for walking to all the top sights.

“Merci,” Ellie said, but before she could pull out her money, a few notes crossed in front of her nose, and she turned to find Hardy with his arm outstretched.

“I got it,” he shrugged, gesturing his head for her to climb out. He followed quickly, unloading their suitcases from the back, and with a final check, they sent the cab off and headed into the hotel. Again, he grabbed her suitcase before she could, sending her ahead.

I don’t remember him being such a gentleman, she thought, before pasting on a bright smile and checking them in with her admittedly rusty French.

Within moments she was handed two plastic room keys with a cheery Felicitations!, and with a nod, she led him back towards the lifts.

They rode in silence, smiling awkwardly at each other, but thankfully it was a short trip and they quickly spilled out into the hallway. It wasn’t until she opened the door that Ellie remembered she had booked the premiere honeymoon package.

“Shit,” she muttered, holding open the door as she stared inside, Hardy looking over her shoulder. It was a romantic’s dream, but at the moment, the vision just made Ellie want to throw up. “Oh, fuck.”

It was a fairly decent sized room for Paris, a small bathroom immediately on the right before opening up into the main area. A desk and chair sat under the window, offering a view of Paris and in the distance, the towers of Notre-Dame rose above the rooftops.

The main feature, of course, given that it was the honeymoon suite, was the bed.

“Am I losing my mind,” Hardy asked from behind her, “or is that bed really heart-shaped?”

It was, with a delicate canopy to boot. Loose rose petals covered scarlet sheets, while battery-operated white candles were arranged on every flat surface, giving the room a romantic glow despite the lack of real flame. A bottle of champagne sat nestled in an ice bucket next to the desk, two flutes ready nearby.

“Uh huh,” she said faintly, finally moving forward enough to enter the room and letting him in behind her, neither paying any mind to the door slamming shut behind them.

He coughed, shifting his weight. “This is cozy.”

“This was a terrible idea.” Tears welled in Ellie’s eyes, and she had to viciously bite her lower lip to keep it from trembling. “This whole thing. I never should’ve come – what was I thinking? Oh, fuck.”

“Hey, Miller, it’s okay,” Hardy fumbled, patting her back, only pushing her closer to tears.

“Just give me a minute,” she sniffled, turning into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind her before letting her emotions go.

Left alone in the entryway, Alec looked around the room with a frown. Doing his best to ignore the sobbing from the bathroom he stepped further into the main area, crossing his arms as he took it in.

Deciding to try damage control, he cleaned up the rose petals and shut off the candles, doing his best to remove the more romantic overtones. Not that he could do anything about the shape of the bed.

Glancing towards the bathroom door he saw no indication she would soon be emerging and investigated the room a little, pulling open drawers and closet doors to see what they were working with.

No evidence of a sleep sofa meant they would have to share the bed, and he grimaced at the thought. Not that he didn’t think they could do so without incident, but more because he feared it would absolutely send her over the edge.

Eyeing the champagne, he decided to open it – it came with the room, and maybe a little alcohol would ease the tension.

Not too much, the little voice in the back of his mind warned as he popped open the bottle, the last thing either of us needs is a repeat of graduation night.

He kindly told the voice to get stuffed. Just as he finished pouring the second glass the bathroom door opened, and he held out one of the flutes towards Ellie, hoping she wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

“Champagne?”

#bbatcfic #broadfic #Broadchurch #HardyxMiller #Alec Hardy #Ellie Miller #AU #The French Connection #platonic honeymoon fic

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yoi-fanficrecs · 6 years ago

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Fanfic Writer’s Appreciation Day 2018!!!

I’m so thankful for all the fanfic writers in out there and especially the writer in the Yuri! on Ice Fandom. Here’s a list of some of the fics I’ve read this week & some of my favs all mixed together! (THIS IS BY NO MEANS A COMPREHENSIVE LIST OF ALL THE FICS I THINK ROCK)

Don’t forget if you’re a fic reader to go and leave an extra comment on your fav stories or drop an ask in the author’s tumblr about how much you appreciate the work that they do! Some of the authors in the fandom are FANTASTIC and I can’t believe that they aren’t paid, professional writers!

Much Ado About Something by @eternalsunshine13 & Skowronek

AO3 Summary: By day, Victor Nikiforov is the head of European operations for LearX, a company on the forefront of private space travel. By night, he is makka-baby on Tumblr, a prominent figure in the small but passionate poodle fandom.

By day, Yuuri Katsuki runs F.O.O.L., a subsidiary of Katsuki Enterprises, whose stated goal is to bring LearX down one lawsuit after another. By night, he’s oodlesofpoodles, an active member of the poodle fandom and possibly makka-baby’s biggest fan.

By day, they duke it out in court. By night, they become friends—and maybe something more—as they fall for each other one Tumblr message at a time.

Or: a romantic comedy starring two idiots in love, the Katsuki family, the mothers Nikiforov, the husbands Chulanont-Giacometti, two doggos, six hamsters, one Yurio, and many, many schemes to get our favorite lovebirds together.

I devoured this in one sitting. They were so frustratingly adorable!!!! This fic is a great enemies to lovers filled with poodles, matchmaking Chris & Phichit, and a futuristic Tumblr app that is still the worst. :P

In Regards to Dynamics by ICanSeeClearlyNow, Oxytreza

AO3 Summary: In a world where betas ruled, alphas and omegas were treated as less than human. After centuries of prejudice, they rebelled, commandeered a colony ship and left Earth for the Proxima Centauri system, vowing to create a new world where all people, regardless of gender, would be treated equally.

200 years later, a reformed Earth approaches Proxima asking to reestablish contact and to reconcile their worlds. Victor Nikiforov, a popular and successful politician on Proxima, is chosen to lead the mission to Earth and accompany a team from Earth back to Proxima for a scientific exchange.

The team from Earth consists of ordinary people descended from omegas and alphas who chose to remain on Earth. Yuuri Katsuki, a researcher into transporter technology and completely ordinary and unremarkable Earthling (a PhD and excellent service record don't count - shush Phichit!) is both thrilled and terrified at the prospect of meeting the handsome ambassador who has taken the Earth by storm.

I’m a sucker for ABO fics. The history and world-building in this fic fascinated me and gave our boys some interesting backstories.

Cherry Blossom Winter by Ars_Matron

AO3 Summary: The war was over, and they had lost. The invading army covered Japan in a show of complete dominance. All bowed before them in hopes of being spared. And Hasetsu was no exception.They couldn't fight, there were no more battles to win, yet they were bound and determined to keep their omegas safe. All Yuuri and the others had to do was keep low until the soldiers were gone. Blend in. Never be caught alone.Yuuri hadn't meant to catch the attention of the blue eyed alpha.Viktor wasn't going to let him slip away.

ABO FICS FOR THE WIN!!!! This fic is an ABO version of another one of Ars_Matron’s stories Snow in Spring - so if you like the summary but not the A/B/O aspect hit that story up! I think the A/B/O aspect really raises the stakes for this story. Just from reading the summary you think it’s going to be a Dark Viktor, but Ars writes his POV as well so we get his thought process too! This is a great conquering Alpha! Viktor and dancer Omega! Yuuri that you’ve got to stop and read it!

Hide and Seek by senshoo

AO3 Summary: Thankfully, the walk only took a few moments and soon, Yuuri was juggling both the child and the key while he shouldered his way into the apartment, set the kid down on his secondhand couch, and then sighed, sinking to the floor.

One deep breath.

Maybe two.

And then, it hit him.Holy shit.Did he just kidnap a child?--

Or: The one where Yuuri accidentally becomes a father at twenty three. Oh, and there's still skating.

EKKKKKK!!!!! I love baby Yurio and this fic warms my cold dead heart! Not to mention this fic is HILARIOUS! I’ve literally laughed out loud reading multiple chapters from this fic much to my embarrassment during professional development workshops. It’s just a cute pinning fic with a cute little Yurio and a dash of angst but mostly humor. <3 <3 <3

Plus: the writer is a consistent updater!

Can I have some of that, Please? by TheLittleSeven

AO3 Summary: If there's anything he learned during his mate's pregnancy, it was to never, EVER question a craving of a pregnant person. Ever. Unless he wanted to deal with a crying fit that resulted from him asking the omega why he wanted mango ice cream with siracha and peas topped on it. Pregnant people usually have weird cravings during their pregnancy. Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov is no exception.

I stumbled upon this little one shot over the summer and absolutely love it! The writer says this is their first fic and it’s so cute! You’ve probably read the story somewhere on the internet and it fits our sweet boys so much!

Dearly beloved by Sophia96

AO3 Summary: This is the story about unconditional love between true mates. When they are destined to be together, there will be nothing standing in their way. Not even language barriers or great distances. As long as they have each other, they will never need anything else.

I couldn’t make a fanfic writer’s appreciation post without including my main writing KWEEN @sophialala1 !!! All of their fics are amazing! Long, fluffy, plot twists, little angsty Viktuuir goodness! Also, they are a dedicated writer and right now going on over a week of daily updates! I’m so thankful they are writing for this fandom and cannot express my gratitude enough!

Between Sixes by D_Toska

AO3 Summary: When Yuri Katsuki is hired as a caretaker for an elite competitive stable owned by Viktor Nikiforov, he knows he's in for trouble with his stunningly handsome new boss. When he makes a major mistake on his first day, he learns just how far Viktor is willing to go to ease his guilty conscience.

HOT HOT HOT!!!! This story is spicy, flaming, sexy, and OMG! I’m pretty sure I have a perpetual nosebleed the ENTIRE chapter. There’s also a lot about horses, which is very lengthy and detailed so I’m sure the writer knows what they’re talking about, lol (bc I know nothing about horses). But I love the chemistry between the dom Vitkor & sub Yuuri and i am on this rollercoaster for good.

Learning Life & Love (Work) by BellaBear13

AO3 Summary: Yuuri Katsuki gets admitted to the hospital for his anxiety and Viktor Nikiforov becomes his therapist. They fall for each other and develop a prohibited relationship, while dealing with problems and situations along the way. Yuuri befriends another patient, Yuri Plisetsky, where they find friendship in one another and open up about difficulties they have with their mental health and relationships.Together they all learn the meaning of life and love.

I was hesitant to start this fic only because I thought the power balance between Viktor & Yuuri would be skewed bc of the therapist/patient bit. I WAS SO WRONG!!! This fic is beautiful and heart-wrenchingly angsty and you know, a little pinning. The writer takes so good pace with their budding relationship && how they approach Yuuris (&&Viktors) mental illness. I really love this story and it updates consistently on Wednesday. Take a chance, and read this fic!

Seven Years and Twenty-Four Hours (Work) by Glaucus_Atlanticus

AO3 Summary: A time-traveling shower transports 18 year old Yuuri into the body of his future self—and into the arms of his idol, Victor Nikiforov. Now Yuuri must pretend to be his older self until he can return to his own era. Which would be a lot easier if Victor weren't so attentive. Or so affectionate.But as time goes on, Yuuri finds himself torn between his old life, and a new one that would hand him everything he ever wanted...but at the cost of his real identity.

COMPLETED! So beautiful. The younger time-traveling Yuuri is so heartbreakingly anxious and Victor is just a sad sac without his time-appropriate Yuuri. This is an angsty fic, but such a great read.

P.S Sorry this turned into an A/B/O fic appreciation post, lol. (but not sorry)

#yuri on ice #yoi fanfic #yoi fandom #fanfic writers appreciation day #much ado about something #dearly beloved #hide and seek #seven years and twenty-four hours #learning life & love #between the sixes

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hillnerd · 7 years ago

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Taking a Shallow Breath Ch 3

Ships: Rose/Scorpius, canon and others | Fanfiction.net link

Romance friendship comedy family & drama |

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

Scorpius Apparated to a secluded alley near his building. He had never much cared for the Apparation spot, as it seemed to be a good place for trash to accumulate, and a favorite spot for the local stray dogs to do a number of unseemly things. He was relieved he didn't land in a pile of something unpleasant, and made his way to the front of his apartment, which resembled the Apparation point's alley as much as a unicorn resembled blast-ended skrewt. Scorpius was excessively fond of the home he had. Rose had helped him pick it out.

"Scorpius, this is the one!" Rose cried as she spun in the middle of the empty living room.

"I don't know… I mean, it's awfully big for just me," he said, running a hand along the stair's banister.

"But, it's beautiful. Think of the history it has," Rose said looking with longing at the closet that had centuries old graffiti. "Plus, it won't always be just you, you know. This would be a perfect place for a family. That little park is just across the street, and the neighbors are lovely."

It was without doubt a charming place, but seeing her look so pleased was all he really needed to decide to take it there and then.

The elderly lady next door was outside with her small bug-eyed dog on a leash. Her hair was piled high on her head, and every piece of jewelry she owned hung off of her, giving her a slightly dotty look.

"Scorpius, how are you doing today?" she asked, jerking the homely dog's leash as it started licking Scorpius' trouser leg.

"I've had better days, but thank you for asking, Mrs McNavis. How are you?"

"Snotgurgle has a cold, I'm afraid," she said, pointing to the dog whose eyes were running, making the ugly creature look even more deranged. Scorpius had long ago decided that not looking directly at the dog made it somewhat less revolting.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Are you going to visit the vertrinorian, then?" he asked with a polite smile.

"Veterinarian. You need to work on that dyslexia handbook I gave you if you ever want to get better, dear boy," she said with a pat on his arm. For some time she had thought his lapses in Muggle terms were the result of dyslexia.

He quite liked Mrs McNavis, though she kept trying to diagnose him with different learning and behavioural disorders. From her perspective he never seemed able to pronounce things correctly, was always 'forgetting' things like electricity bills and locking doors, and was unfamiliar with things he should have learned around age twelve in Muggle school. He also would have a fire going in his fireplace year-round, which she thought was a sure sign something was off with him. Though it was annoying for someone to think he was mentally handicapped, he was fairly contented to let her keep thinking it. After all, explaining would break the Constitute of Secrecy.

"Yes. I'm afraid I haven't been working on that dyslexia handbook."

"How was Rose's wedding?"

"Delayed until Friday, I'm afraid."

"You'll have time for lasagna night, though?" she asked, a small frown on her face. For the last two years every Wednesday he would attend a lasagna night at Mrs McNavis's house, along with a few of the other neighbors.

"Of course. I always make time for that, Mrs McNavis."

"Really, Scorpius, the way you always call me that makes me feel so old. Why don't you just call me Barbara already?"

"Very proper upbringing and force of habit. I'll try and work on that," he said, waving her goodbye with one hand, while his other hand surreptitiously waved his wand to open the door.

"You need to lock your door, young man. This may be a nice neighborhood, but you still need to lock the door," he heard her call from behind him. Snotgurgle gave a wet, hacking bark in his direction.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs McNavis," he said with a smile, before going into the house as quickly as he could. He gave a sigh and leant his head back against the closed door.

He could hear Mrs McNavis talking to her dog on the other side:

"Strange boy… Polite, but never seems to have his head in the right place… Come along, Snotty."

He slid down the door until he was sitting on the wooden floorboards, his eyes closed. He heard the padding of small feet, then felt a wet nose on his hand.

"Hi Libi," he murmured as the undersized striped cat purred and rubbed its head against his hand. Her soft fur and blatant affection brought mild comfort to him.

"Scorpius? Darling, are you there?" a voice called from the other room.

Scorpius gave a start and headed towards the living room, cat in tow, but not before checking that his hair was in place and his robes weren't askew.

"There you are!" she said in a relieved tone. Her dark hair was done up in a chic hairstyle and her makeup was impeccable, as usual. People always commented on how lovely she was, and he knew it to be true.

"I was so very worried about you. You need to be careful with that asthma of yours."

"I know. I usually am," he said, leaning down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"You look nice in those robes. Turn around. Let me see," she said with eager eyes.

He did as he was told, though he had grown to greatly dislike this tradition between them.

"Very smart! I would have been honoured to be seen at your side," she smirked at him.

Scorpius nodded, though considering that he went to the wedding with the intention to break it up and steal Rose, it would have proven to be an even more awkward affair if she had been his date. He could just imagine her apologetic expression to the crowds of onlookers for Scorpius' undignified behaviour.

"What a handsome young man I have!" she cooed.

"Mum…" he let out, knowing she enjoyed embarrassing him.

"Where's Father?" he inquired, not seeing Father's head alongside Mum's.

"I'm here," he heard a voice say. A pair of polished shoes arrived next to Mum.

"He hurt his back a few days ago and refuses to see a Healer about it," Mum said with a roll of her eyes.

"It's nothing that requires a Healer. I'm sure it will be just fine," said Father.

Scorpius didn't need to see his face to perfectly picture the slightly sour expression on Father's face.

"Yes, we both know you have absolutely wonderful judgement when it comes to your physical state," Mum said, giving one of his shoes a pat. "He's fifty and thinks he can simply move a large oak cabinet by brute force. Excellent judgement."

"My wand had rolled behind it, and I had no idea that cabinet was made of oak," Father muttered.

"You had lots of important spells to do at midnight that just couldn't wait, I'm sure," Mum teased.

"I didn't want to wake you to use your wand."

"And I'm sure the House Elves were grateful for the lie in," laughed Scorpius.

"Oh! That hadn't even occurred to me! Yes, why didn't you ask Flumpy or Snoozy to get it for you?" said Mum, giggling a bit behind a well-manicured hand.

"We called to ask about Scorpius, if you remember," said Father.

"I'm sorry. You're quite right. Scorpius, did Rose look pretty in that dress?"

"Oh, honestly!" said Father. There came a great grunt, and after a moment Father's head was next to Mum's.

Mum gave a cry of "Draco! Your back!" which he heartily ignored.

"Never mind all that nonsense. Are you quite well, Scorpius?" asked Father, a look of concern deeply etched into his face.

"I'm really fine. Lily Potter was there and she healed me up quick as one can."

"Hmm," Father said, nodding. Every time Scorpius mentioned the Potters or Weasleys the same unpleasant look crossed his face. The look of bored distaste was present now too, and it hadn't lost any of its vigour in thirteen years.

"Lily's the one who Flooed us to let us know about you. We were both quite worried," Mum reiterated.

"Yes, well, as you can both see, I'm fine," Scorpius said, holding his hands out in an open expression for them to inspect him.

"Did Rose look pretty in that dress?" Mum asked. Father rolled his eyes, but quickly gave Mum a look of tolerant fondness.

"If you had accepted the invitation she sent you both, then perhaps you would have gotten to see her in it," said Scorpius.

"And make that idiot father of hers die of a heart attack on her wedding day? What a loss that would be," said Father in a sardonic tone. "You know, on second thought, I think we should have gone."

"I want to know if that dress worked. After all, I went to the trouble of sending her the catalogue and thought it would suit her best," Mum added, not acknowledging her husband's comments.

"She looked beautiful in it. Quite perfect," said Scorpius, staring despondently at a stray ember in his fireplace. He never thought the image of Rose looking so lovely could be such a source of displeasure, but seeing her looking so beautiful for another man made his blood boil, and his stomach plummet.

"Oh," said Father, interrupting Scorpius' thoughts. A cold look, unfamiliar to Scorpius, was on his face. Mum looked between her son and husband, eyes wide.

"I'm going to go find my will and cross some names off of it," said Father with a roll of his eyes. He struggled a bit to rise from the floor with dignity, before forgoing such measures. He gave an undignified and painful grunt as he shakily rose. Mum rose a bit to make sure he was steady, before quickly returning to the fireplace.

"I'm sorry, Scorpius. It's just the pain talking, I'm sure."

"Yes, probably," Scorpius lied, putting his hands in his dress robe pockets.

He knew Father's views on the Weasleys very clearly. Though he had always, in his own way, tolerated Scorpius' friendship with that most dreaded of families, Scorpius knew the very notion of him being involved with one of the red haired offspring was as distasteful to Father as Scorpius taking up with a goblin. Mum was a different story altogether.

She was very fond of Rose. Rose met all of Mum's standards when it came to future daughter-in-laws: She came from 'good stock' genetically ('despite that fuzzy hair, she is rather pretty'), she knew how to politely introduce herself to adults, she had at least one long line of purebloods in her background, had made good grades, and would one day be wealthy, if her parent's jobs and copyright placements had any say in it. After meeting those qualifications, any girl Scorpius wanted was OK by her.

"Darling, I'm sure she'll make the right choice in the end," she said very quietly, so as Father couldn't hear.

"She made her choice years ago, Mum," he whispered back.

"We'll see," she said, a knowing look on her face. "According to her horoscope she's due to have a change of heart any day now."

"That would be a great comfort if I put any stock in that Divination rubbish," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"You really should, Darling. After all, I'm right so much of the time."

"I wouldn't brag over a forty-five percent accuracy rate, Mum," he smiled. Libi started playing with dust motes near his feet.

"You're as bad as your father," Mum scolded, though she smiled in turn. "My knees can't take much more of this. They really need to invent a new way to talk to others."

"I heard that Rose's Uncle George has been working on a prototype for a more convenient way, actually. It's based on some Muggle idea from way back. They've been talking on a telephone system for over a hundred years. It used to be connected to a wall, but now they transfer voices through these little portable boxes the size of the palm of your hand, without them being attached to a network you can see. I'm not sure how it all works, but it involves some sort of setilites floating above the earth. He's trying to adapt it to a lighter or something."

Mum rolled her eyes.

"You'd best not mention any of that to your grandparents. They are coming in this week, and I don't want you to say a word about Muggles and their silly contraptions, no matter how interesting you find them. If they knew the things you get up to…" she trailed off.

"I wouldn't mention them to Grandmother or Grandfather."

"You've done it before!"

"I was twelve the last time I did that, Mum," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, I wanted to make sure. Will you be all right with this whole wedding thing?"

"Yes, yes… I'm going to be helping Rose plan the wedding for Friday," he answered, picking up Libi and scratching her head so as not to look Mum in the eye.

"Spending time with her already?" Mum grinned.

"It's of no consequence," he said in a formal tone that reeked of finality.

"Fine then," she said, getting up gingerly. "Be good. I love you."

"Love you too, Mum. Send my regards to Father," he called back.

"I'm here! Don't do anything stupid," Father shouted from across the room.

"I'll try not to," Scorpius dutifully answered, pulling away from the fireplace.

He went to his bedroom and changed into some casual clothes, and went into the bathroom. Scorpius stared at the pale, blonde man, his knuckles white as he gripped the side of the sink. He only had an hour to contemplate on his strategy and bolster his own spirits. The time with his parents had made him no more enthusiastic about his impending task. In fact, he was now more hesitant about it than ever before. He didn't lack determination: no he had that in spades. What he lacked was an idea of how to go about it. He usually prized himself as intelligent, but as he glared at himself in the mirror, he realized not even the most minuscule bit of inspiration was going to hit him.

Al had talked about it like it was something people did every day. Scorpius knew of no precedent for stealing a woman from her fiancé days before they are supposed to get married for a second time. He was just about to bring out a history book for inspiration when there was a knock at his door. He gave a great sigh: at the rate he had visitors coming over he wouldn't ever have a moment of revelation.

Another, more pounding knock thundered in his ears.

"I'm coming," he said, not wanting to reward their impatience with a speedy reaction.

He went at an ambling pace until he heard a shouted swear and the sound of many things being dropped. He hurried and opened the door to see Lily looking venomous, assorted boxes and bags strewn around her ankles.

"Lily?" he asked, quite befuddled. She had never shown up on his doorstep without at least two other people present before.

"I'm not picking that up," she said, indicating the mass of boxes and bags on his doorstep. Walking in with much entitlement, she walked up his stairs and started opening doors.

"What are you doing here?" he hesitated to ask.

"Trying to find your bedroom," said Lily, opening the door to one of his quest rooms. "How many bleeding rooms does a bachelor need?"

He reached for a box when he saw a pair of feminine green shoes standing in front of him, a striped skirt waving in the crisp breeze. Looking up he saw Magnolia Longbottom, holding a large amount of boxes similar too Lily's collection.

"Where do you want these, Lily?"

She walked into the house with the same amount of authority Lily had.

"Found it! In here, Mags! Third door to the right!"

Scorpius gathered the rest of the fallen bags and ushered them into his bedroom, feeling thoroughly bemused. Libi was quite taken with the paper sacks and started playing with one.

"So, what are all these boxes for?"

"Take off your shirt," Lily replied.

"I– What?"

"He should take his trousers off too, that way we know what we have to work with," Mags added.

"What? No!" he declared with as much dignity as he could, taking a step back from the two perilously indecorous women. He would be hesitant no matter who they were, but given that they were two years younger than himself, and he didn't know either intimately, he couldn't help but recoil from this effrontery.

Lily gave him a knowing look and smiled.

"Honestly, it's not as if I didn't see you naked earlier today when I put you in that hospital gown, Scorpius. We're not asking you to remove your boxers."

Scorpius stood agog and his cheeks flushed. Lily rolled her eyes and put out a demanding hand.

"Now are you going to take your clothes off or am I going to have to spell them off of you?"

"Why are you asking me to take my clothes off?" he asked in an embarrassingly wobbly voice.

"To figure out what you should dress in, of course," Mags added with a cheerful beam.

"I told you you'd need my help, and so I'm here with backup. We only have fifty-eight minutes until lunch with Rose, and we want you to look your best," Lily explained, giving him a fond smile that somewhat calmed him.

"Now strip!" she ordered, and this time he complied.

His ears started to burn as they studied him with the same cold precision a potions master would an ingredient he was about to slice into pieces.

"His shoulders are wider than I thought. We'll need to up it a size, I think."

"And take in the waist, for sure. He certainly is thin."

"I think we should go with green. It brings out an intensity in his eyes."

Mags pulled out a mauve colored measuring tape that started to magically whir around him. They had to place the cat outside the room, as Libi seemed to find it the most entertaining toy she'd seen in ages.

"Hands out at the side, please," Mags said as she and Lily started up-ending the contents of the boxes and bags onto his bed.

"Where did you get all these clothes from?" he asked, looking over at the ever growing pile of expensive looking garments.

"Giordano's."

Mags started holding different tops up to his chest. Upon seeing his questioning look she elaborated, "He's the fashion designer I work for. He lets me have a go at last season's clothes, though I've never needed to go after his Wizard's collection before."

Scorpius felt a bit guilty for not keeping up with Mags after he graduated. She had always been rather polite to him, and one of Lily's best friends, and he had no idea what she was doing working for a fashion designer.

After a few more moments of holding things up, the girls decided on an outfit and had him dress in it. Mags set to work pinning it so she could resize it.

"They look Muggle… Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added after receiving a glare from both of the girls.

"Scorpius, these are the latest fashions from one of the top Wizarding designers in Europe," Lily admonished, her arms akimbo, making her very much resemble her mother.

"I thought you said they were last season?" he quipped.

"Only on a runway," Mags added. "Now stop moving and complaining. If I stick a pin in your side it will nearly be unintentional."

After much pinning, scolding, and waiting, the outfit was finished and on him. Looking in the mirror he felt he looked a bit too well polished and trendy for his liking, but knew he should show deference to their opinions.

"Scorpius, you look so posh!" Lily cried.

"Much more modern than those other clothes you were wearing," Mags said. She said it in such an earnest, kindly way he couldn't find it in himself to get mad at her.

They had about ten minutes to spare, but Lily decided he should get there early, as it would give Al adequate time to make fun of Scorpius before Rose arrived.

Scorpius Apparated outside of Al's door, and Al answered the door presently with a large bark of laughter.

"Please don't laugh," Scorpius let out before stepping inside the dark apartment that looked like a disagreeing committee had put it together. The walls were bottle green, the furniture an assortment of orange, black and white worn furniture. There was a collection of odd-colored lamps, posters and rugs scattered haphazardly around the tiny apartment.

He sat down at the table and gave the sniggering Al a frown.

"I'm sorry, but you just look like such a wanker," Al laughed, setting up a variety of serving dishes for when everyone arrived.

"This looks quite good, Al," Scorpius said eyeing the Indian feast Al had whipped up.

"Oh it's nothing, really," Al said with humility. In almost anything else, Al would be boasting, but when it came to his cooking, it was a Fwooper of a different color. "I'm still learning."

Al started to munch at some of the naan bread when he let out a strangled noise.

"Oh my God… Scorpius, they dressed you like Brian!" Al spluttered. Scorpius never corrected Al when he used the wrong name for Rose's fiancé, Brad. It gave him a hearty sense of satisfaction each and every time.

"No… No, they didn't dress me like him," Scorpius said, more to comfort himself than because he actually believed it. He now knew why the clothes had felt odd. They looked exactly like the kind of fashion forward trendy clothes he'd seen Brad wearing.

"They did! That looks exactly like something that arse would wear!" said Al, aghast.

Scorpius looked to the clock. With only minutes left before Rose got there, he wouldn't have time to go back and change. Lily and Mags would still be in his apartment, and the last thing he wanted to do was insult them after everything they had just tried to do.

"Well, don't just stand there! Do something!" demanded Al.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Wear something of mine?"

"You don't have anything clean."

"True," Al acquiesced. He tended to only clean things as he needed them, which usually meant a large accumulation of dirty clothes at the bottom of his closet, and only his dress robes hanging from a few lonesome hangers.

"It doesn't matter," said Scorpius, looking glum. "At least I'll look as… as fashion forward as her fiancé."

"Augh!" Al said with a shake of his messy hair. "Never say anything remotely resembling that phrase in any way ever again!"

Scorpius laughed.

They heard a knock at the door, and Al languidly answered it with a wave of his wand. Rose came in, looking flushed and lovely. Scorpius fidgeted with his robes.

"Hey mates," she said with a quick wave, removing her blue cloak. Without a second glance at Scorpius' new attire, she made a beeline for the dining room table. "I'm famished! I haven't eaten anything since yesterday."

"Why?" asked Al. The thought of not eating food for extended periods of time was clearly a disturbing thought, according to his look of horror.

"I didn't want to be burping up essence of breakfast at the ceremony," said Rose, serving some chicken tikka masala to herself, and promptly eating a large amount of it that made her freckled cheeks bulge out in what should be a repugnant manner. After years of eating around Rose, both Scorpius and Al had grown quite immune to her inability to eat daintily without a concerted effort.

"Dish ish delishush, Aw," she said through a full mouth.

"You just think that because you're hungry," said Al, serving himself.

Both Rose and Scorpius rolled their eyes.

"Al, if you weren't any good, you wouldn't have become a sous chef to such a prestigious restaurant," said Scorpius.

"You'd be serving slop at some rotten food stand," Rose said bracingly. "You're the best cook I know!"

"And she knows the likes of Hagrid, so you know what high praise that is," smirked Scorpius.

Rose harrumphed. Al just stared into his dish.

"No, no, Al," said Scorpius. "I'd wager you are a bit more proficient in the kitchen than Hagrid."

"Much! Though you can never outshine his rockcakes—"

"I think you might be able to cook soup even better than his."

"Your tea might even have less dust in it than Hagrid's."

They both started laughing. Al gave a mutinous glare into his masala, but finally gave into a smile when Rose elbowed him in the side.

The rest of the meal was spent eating, laughing, and scheduling a bevy of tasks for the upcoming nuptials. Everything from picking out new flower arrangements (and discerning which were the cause of Scorpius' asthma attack) to getting new Portkeys arranged were put into Rose's planner with a flourish of her blue quill.

"That should do it, then," said Rose, giving a relieved sigh. She laid her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes, as Al gathered the dishes and started cleaning them meticulously buy hand.

"No more asthma attacks," Rose moaned to the room.

"I'll try not to interrupt your wedding with one again," Scorpius said quietly.

Rose opened up an eye before sitting up and looking suddenly cross.

"It's not that you interrupted my wedding, you berk. I was really worried about you!" she said, pointing a finger into his chest.

"You were so pale, and weren't breathing. All I could do was panic and cry. At first I couldn't even get my bloody wand out of my stupid dress, and then I couldn't remember the spell to help you. I just sat there useless as Lily saved you, and I couldn't remember a single spell to help."

Rose's eyes unexpectedly began to look glossy.

"I never want to see you looking like that again. You can interrupt a thousand weddings, just never let that happen again, Scorpius," she said with a vigorous shake of her head, holding her arms around her stomach as if the very thought made her ill.

"I'm sorry I worried you," he said, putting an arm around her shoulder.

She leaned her head onto his shoulder and took a deep breath. Her hand snuck up to his chest and patted it.

"I'd be lost without my best friend," she said in a small voice. Scorpius inhaled deeply, smelling that earthy scent that always followed Rose wherever she went. His arms snaked their way around her, while her red curls were splayed across them both, and Rose released the breath she had taken. One of her hands was making circles on his chest, while the other seemed pleased to just hold him. He could stay there, holding her forever, and be perfectly contented.

A self-consequential knock disturbed them both out of their reverie.

"Who in the world is that?" Al harrumphed, making his way over from the kitchen. He opened the door with a wave of his wand.

Looking over Scorpius saw, to his horror—

"Brad!" cried Rose.

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#fanfiction #Taking a Shallow breath #fanfic #harry potter #Rose Weasley #Scorpius Malfoy #scorpius/rose #rose/scorpius #scorose #romance #family #cute

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violecentstrs · 8 years ago

Text

Our True Love - Chapter 6

A/N: Bucky doesn’t appear in this one but he is mentioned. But, still it helps with the storyline a little. Thank you for those who have been following my series! I really appreciate it. Please enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think! (Sorry in advance for any grammatical errors in my stories!)

Previous Chapter(s): Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: None Word count: 2,086 Summary: Reader and Bucky doesn’t get along well after his marriage to Rosaline. Will her friendship with Bucky last or will they crumble and fade?

★ ★ ★

“Why should I give him another chance, Y/N?”

Rosaline’s angry voice echoing in the shop. I look around at the other people there, hoping they would just go back to continuing their own work. I watch Rosaline sip on her cup of coffee.

Bucky had left early in the morning of the day after. He left a note saying “I’m sorry, Y/N, but thank you.” on my coffee table. I tried contacting him, but he didn’t pick up his phone. He must be crashing at Steve’s since Steve returned from his mission that morning too. I asked Rosaline to meet up two days later since it is my day off.

“Bucky really cares for you, Rosaline. You know that. He didn’t mean to do that to you.” I plead with her. She looks at me with her angry brown eyes.

“The nerve to accuse me of cheating! I’d never. He embarrassed me in front of my friends. I never want to see him again!” She folds her arms over her chest. I let out a sigh.

“Yes, it’s fine to be mad at him, but really to the extent of that? You know the things he had gone through in the past, right?” I say while holding onto my cup of coffee.

“The past in the past! He needs to learn to accept what happened to him and get over it. I did when he saved me from HYDRA seven months ago!” She is still raising her voice.

If I could, I want to crawl into a hole and hide out. I know she’s not angry at me, but the attention she is attracting is enough to make me want to crawl inside of my own self and disappear. Keep your voice down, woman.

“Besides, he’s a man. He should be strong and learn to be in control of his own mind again.” She says while looking down at her cup. That statement made me furious. If I could, I’d love to strangle her for treating Bucky like this.

“Rosaline. It’s not a matter of him accepting the past or not. It’s the matter of his mind being a wreck. You kept his mental status stable as Winter Soldier. But now he, as James Buchanan Barnes, lives with the pain of memories of his past. Memories of crimes he doesn’t remember committing as himself.” I say gritting my teeth. She has the right to be angry, but to bash on Bucky’s condition is too much.

“I don’t care. If he doesn’t get his mind fixed, then I don’t want to see him.” I can see tears in her eyes as she looks away. She wants to help Bucky, but doesn’t know how. It’s not like she has the tools and machines she had before.

I clench my fists together, feeling the anger heating up inside of me. So much for being his wife. This is what happens when you rush into something so quickly without thinking first. Then, a memory of Bucky’s tears from the other night comes flashing through my mind. I take a deep breath to calm myself down.

“Rosaline. I ask you to please consider Bucky’s feelings. He is an emotional wreck who needs the support of others to stay on his feet. He says he can manage on his own, when really he can’t.” I plead with her again. Rosaline looks at me, her eyes staring right into mine.

“Please, for Bucky. He needs you.” I say feeling the sadness replacing the anger. I don’t like seeing Bucky upset. It really is painful.

“And you? Don’t you both have some kind of history together?” She asks straight on. I blink before backing away onto the back of the chair.

“Not… so much of a history. We… we’ve only been friends.” I answer. She leans forward on the table.

“Just… friends?” She asks again. I feel a lump growing in my throat. Not from the fear, but from how painful that reality is. But right now, I’m more concerned about Bucky than anything else.

“Yes. Just friends. I’ve just been there for him most of the time.” I answer again, not showing the hint of my voice shaking.

“It makes me wonder why he comes running to you instead of Steve the other night. He usually does when I kick him out.” She crosses her arms over her chest again. I raise an eyebrow. Steve was out during a mission four nights ago. But to my surprise, apparently, it wasn’t the first time Bucky got kicked out by her.

“S—”

“What did you both do that night?” She asks. A sense of fear wraps around me at how darkly she is staring at me. But I brush that feeling away. We were innocent anyways.

“Nothing happened.” I answer truthfully. She keeps her gaze on me.

“You’re lying.”

If there’s one thing I hate, it is being called a liar. I stand up, reaching over to her shirt and pulling her up to look at me properly. I have to admit, the sudden fear in her eyes was satisfying.

“If you are trying to accuse Bucky of cheating on you. You are dead wrong. You haven’t been the proper wife he deserves. Who turns away from their husbands the second he does something wrong? You stay there and you support him through it all. Not run away and kick him out. What kind of a wife are you? I thought you were a gentle and kind woman, Rosaline.” I say darkly at her. She looks at me, still with a hint of fear and anger mixed together.

I didn’t care how many eyes were on us now despite what I felt earlier. I wanted to get my point across. I push her back down onto the chair before picking my bag up and getting ready to leave.

“Think again about Bucky, Rosaline. You both share a history in HYDRA together. You should understand better than anyone else of how cruel things can be there. When you do remember, then you’ll be able to find the heart to help Bucky again. You have no idea what kind of pain he’s going through.” I say. I can feel Rosaline’s eyes staying on me as I make my way out of the shop.

Even though I left in such a cold manner, inside, I was beating myself up.

How can I do that to Rosaline?? I’ve never done anything like that to anyone. Oh gosh. I want to run back inside and apologize to her. But then again, if I didn’t, she probably wouldn’t think twice about Bucky’s situation. It was the right thing to do.

Tough love.

I sit on the park bench with a sandwich in hand. I watch the little kids play on the field with their parents watching them or sitting on a picnic blanket. After meeting Rosaline earlier that morning, I needed to air myself out. I don’t like being angry at people to the point I would lash out at them.

I toss the crumpled up paper into the bin.

That night had been so painful to see how broken Bucky was. I wanted nothing but his happiness. I wanted to see him smile again. I wanted to hear his laugh again. I just want the James Buchanan Barnes that I know back. So, this morning was my chance to help him out with Rosaline. I hope she does do the right thing to help Bucky.

The browning leaves and cold breeze are giving me a sense of peace within. I walk down the path of the park, listening to the leaves crunch up under my shoes. So satisfying.

I pass over a particular bench where Bucky and I used to sit on one winter morning after returning home from a trip together.

Just friends.

The words ring out in my head. I laugh to myself and run down the path since I was alone. I dash down that path until I reach to the fork. I stop by a lamp post and hold onto it as I catch my breath. I laugh again loudly to myself, feeling my cheeks growing cold from the tears on my face.

I slide down onto the patch of grass, laughing and crying at the same time. Emotions swirling around in my mind. Was I still somehow in love with Bucky? Is this why I was doing all of these for him? Sacrificing my own feelings to see him happy? I wanted to see him smile and laugh.

But who is that person making him smile and laugh? Is it not myself that I imagine making him laugh? Is it not myself that I imagine holding him at night when he gets his nightmares? Is it not myself that I imagine spending the rest of his life with?

I don’t know anymore. I hit the back of my head against the lamp post while taking a deep breath.

“Y/N?” Richard’s voice calls out from behind me. I turn to look at him. He’s with another man next to him. Equally beautiful and fashionable man. I wipe the tears away quickly before getting up.

“Richard. I didn’t know you are here.” I say while approaching him for a hug. My voice is a little shaky, but not enough to tell that I had been crying. He returns the hug a little nervously.

“Yeah. I was just taking a walk with Harry. Harry, this is my friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is my photographer, Harry.” He points towards the man. Dark skinned, curly short hair and glowing brown eyes. This man looks like a model himself. Jawline, neck and shoulders a little sexier than Richard’s. I smile and shake his hand.

“Hi, Harry. I’m Y/N.” Harry gives me a shy smile before nodding.

“What’s good, Y/N?” He says. His voice was deep.

“So I assume you took the modelling job, then?” I nudge Richard’s arm gently before turning to look at Harry. He laughs and nods.

“I did. You promised a celebration, no?” He asks while looking at me. I nod.

“Yeah. How about a nice dinner at a restaurant of your own choice?” I say before looking at Harry. “And you should come too, Harry!”

“That would be cool.” Harry answers back, nodding at me. Richard smiles.

“Okay, well, Crissie’s then?” Richard says pulling the sleeves of his sweater down a little.

I nod while exchanging glances between them. When I finally realize that there are actually two beautiful men standing in front of me, I blush. My mind was so clouded from before that I didn’t process this situation right now.

“When?” Harry’s deep voice shaking my core a little. So attractive.

“Wednesday night?” Richard suggests while looking at Harry then at me. I nod quickly. I feel really small among both of these men. And Steve and Bucky are the ones given the serum to turn into such beasts themselves.

“Wednesday night it is!” I say.

“We’re about to get lunch. Want to join us?” Richard asks, slipping his hands into his pockets. I shake my head.

“I had lunch. I’m about to head home. I’ll see you on Wednesday though.” I say before giving him a thumbs up. I’m channelling out my cheery attitude to throw off any suspicions Richard might have when he saw me sitting by a lamp post earlier when there’s a bench just a foot away from me.

“Okay, I’ll see you then, Cherry.” Richard leans in to kiss my cheeks again. I blush and wave at them when they make their way down the path again. I yelp inside happily watching the way they walk. Truly beautiful men.

I let out a sigh, making my way back home. I pull my sweater a little tighter around my body. The wind is giving me chills. I remember to the night again. How Bucky held me tightly in his arms. It felt like he was afraid that I would disappear from him if he didn’t. But he was the one that disappeared that morning.

I look up at the clear sky, stopping in my tracks momentarily. I want to make Bucky happy again. I want to make him shine again. That’s all that I’m really sure of right now. When everything is cleared out and returned back to normal, then I’ll deal with my own feelings.

Who knows I may even find an answer for myself after it all too.

★ ★ ★

A/N: Not so much happened in this one. I’m sorry for those who expects a little bit more of Bucky. Next time there will be Bucky, I promise! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Inbox me if you’d like to be tagged in my series! Thank you for reading! Guys, again, thank you for all the likes, reblogs and comments. You have no idea how they really make my day. So thank you very much! <3

Next chapter coming soon!

Tag(s): @ipaintmelodies @goldwanderer @hairdye-enthusiast @bexboo616 @chipilerendi @typical0001 @damnbuckyishot @mrsnegan25

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #captain america #captain america fanfiction #fanfiction #OC #otl #ourtruelove

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 5 years ago

Text

The French Connection - Chapter 5

A HardyxMiller AU

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday and Sunday. Beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma

Masterlist | AO3

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When the alarm went off mercifully at seven the next morning, Ellie’s hand snapped out to silence it. It was pointless; she hadn’t gotten more than a few minutes sleep the entire night, and Hardy had been far too restless on his side of the bed to have gotten much more, though it had been somewhat hard to tell through the barrier of pillows she’d erected between them the first night.

“D’you want the shower first?” he asked, proving he was awake, voice quiet and weary.

Ellie stared up at the ceiling, not moving for a moment as she contemplated her options. Shower or coffee first? “You can have it,” she finally decided. “I’ll ring down for coffee.”

Hardy just grunted in reply, and she waited until the door shut behind him to leverage herself up and reach for the phone.

With boatloads of caffeine imminent she stretched her back, rolling her head side to side to try to relieve the stiffness there. After the… incident at the Eiffel Tower they’d returned to the hotel, Hardy all but fleeing to the hotel’s small library while Ellie mindlessly flipped the channels, settling down to sleep just as he returned.

It had been a silent, sleepless night, and she cursed them both for making it weird.

A knock on the door startled her, and she threw it open to see a man with two carafes of coffee.

“Oh thank God.”

The tension eased once they made it out of the hotel, Hardy apparently quite content to trail behind her as Ellie led the way.

To his obvious surprise, though, they only walked about a block before stopping.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ellie said automatically, pushing all thoughts of the incident away, before realizing he was probably wondering why they were standing near the curb of an otherwise unremarkable block. “Oh. We’re waiting for- that,” she cut herself off, pointing towards the bus pulling up as she spoke. “It’ll take us out to Montmartre, and Sacre Coeur.”

“All right,” Hardy agreed readily enough, as they shuffled onto the bus and found seats together, Ellie taking the window. “Couldn’t we take the underground, or metro, or whatever they call it here? Won’t this take ages?”

The bus pulled away and Ellie practically smushed her nose to the glass, trying to take it all in as they drove down the street. “Yes, but there’s nothing to see that way. It might be faster, but it’s all underground. I wanted to see more than just the landmarks.”

He didn’t argue so she considered that a win, watching the city go by. Everything was so beautiful, the architecture and awnings, the wide boulevards. I could stay here forever. Given what was waiting for her at home, the idea was incredibly tempting. They must need cops in Paris. It would do wonders for my French.

After a fifteen-minute bus ride that felt far too short they got off at the Boulevard de Rochechouart stop, just past the tree-divided wide boulevard.

“Now what?”

Ellie grinned at him, tilting her head to the left. “This way.”

She led him down a side street, confident in her directions. The road changed names three times before they stopped at Place Saint Pierre, a concrete plaza with a small carousel and children’s play area, and more importantly, a view up the hill to the church. “Bienvenue a Montmartre,” she beamed, “famous for art, the Basilica, and its nightclubs.”

“That’s an eclectic group.” Hands on his hips, Hardy peered up the hill. “Not a natural pairing, but somehow, very French.”

“I suppose so. There’s a few ways to get to the top. You don’t mind funiculars, do you?”

“No?”

“Perfect. Come on.”

The inside of the terminal was as charmingly French as everything else she’d seen, and she quickly purchased the tickets to ride to the top, managing to jump on the next one just before the doors closed.

In less than two minutes they were at the top of the hill, Ellie once again leading him only a few yards to the right to the top of the stairs they’d looked up. From there they found a breathtaking view of Paris. It was a brilliant morning, with a bright blue sky and plenty of sunshine illuminating the rooftops of the city. Despite not including any of the famous landmarks, Ellie found she didn’t care, too enchanted with what she could see.

“I love it here,” she murmured.

“It’s not bad,” Hardy agreed, and she side-eyed him. Standing next to her with his hands in his pockets, the bits of his face she could see around his sunglasses suggested he was unimpressed.

“You’ve seen better?”

He turned his head, lips curling upwards. “I’ve always been partial to the view from Edinburgh Castle. Old town on one side, new town on the other.”

“I thought you were from Glasgow?”

Hardy ignored her. “But this is a nice view, I’ll give you that. Peaceful.” Raising his sunglasses, he arched an eyebrow. “Now what?”

They spent the morning exploring Montmartre, splitting their time between the official sights and the little stalls, hundreds of artists selling their works. More than a few pieces tempted Ellie, but in the end she resisted – at least for now, she consoled herself as she kept glancing over her shoulder at one landscape in particular even as they walked away.

For lunch she picked a small bistro with city views, sitting right on the edge of the patio with unobstructed views of the rooftops of Paris.

“This is lovely,” she gushed, sliding her chair in and settling her napkin across her lap before looking up to see Hardy standing awkwardly beside the table. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you sitting?”

“Loo,” he gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’ll be back shortly. Feel free to order for me.” Then he was gone, winding his way back into the restaurant proper and disappearing from view.

“Well, okay, then,” she said in confusion, shaking her head. In truth, it was nice to have a moment alone; they’d reverted to their normal bickering, but she suspected it felt as forced for him as it did for her. For the thousandth time the kiss floated through her mind, and she didn’t understand what had happened any better now than she had when it occurred. It’s a natural reaction, she rationalized once again. Someone goes in for a kiss, you kiss back. It’s automatic. It doesn’t mean anything.

The buzzing of her mobile made her yelp in surprise, digging through her bag for it and answering without checking the caller id. “Hello?”

“El, where are you?” her sister demanded, and Ellie groaned quietly. “What the hell’s going on?”

“I’m in Paris, as I had planned. I had to get away from everything – besides, it was already paid up. I can’t exactly go throwing money away.” A rustle on the other end of the line and a few hushed voices told her she was on speaker, making her roll her eyes and slump back in her chair. “Who all’s there anyway?”

Her father’s disapproving tone came through loud and clear. “It’s your mother and I as well. Eleanor, you should be here. Your husband needs you.”

She snorted at that. “He’s not my husband, Dad- we didn’t get to ‘I do’, and more importantly, we never signed the license. And I don’t care what he needs. He can hang for all I care. I want nothing to do with him, and more importantly, I want you lot to have nothing to do with him either!”

“Eleanor,” her mother’s pseudo-soothing voice pleaded, “you spent the last five years of your life with this man. Don’t throw that away!”

“Oh, for fuck’s- I didn’t. He did. How dare you lecture me!”

Hardy slid into his seat just then, arching an eyebrow, and she realized her volume.

“Look, Mum, I’ve got to go. Stay away from Joe. He’s dead to me. No- as far as I’m concerned, he’s never existed. I want nothing to do with any of this. I’ll talk to you when I get back.” And, ignoring the three protesting voices coming through, she hung up the call and threw the mobile back in her bag, burying it at the bottom for good measure. “And where the hell have you been?”

Expression not changing, Hardy picked up his menu to peruse it, eyeing her over the top of it. “Loo. D’you really want more information?”

Ellie scowled at him, eyes flickering over him. Does he really think I don’t know when he’s full of shit? “Whatever. Just pick something to eat. Wanker.”

And, raising her menu to hide her face, she ignored the tears leaking from her eyes.

Why did this happen to me?

Arms folded on the table, Hardy studiously stared out at the Parisian rooftops in front of them and ignored his travel companion. She’d lost the menu when their orders were taken, and now had her sunnies firmly situated on her nose as they both pretended she wasn’t crying behind them. The occasional soft sniff would emanate from her direction, but she’d thrown out Allergies and he nodded like he believed her.

“So, what’s on tomorrow’s docket?” he asked just as their food arrived, waiting until the waiter had vanished to look at her.

“Um, a day-trip to Versailles. Pre-booked, they’ll meet us at the hotel. Tour of the palace and gardens. A few minutes free time in the city itself. Should be most of the day, but spectacular. I’ve always wanted to go.”

Digging into his salad, Hardy nodded. “Sounds good. And the rest of the week?” It was only Wednesday, and he knew they would be away until the following Wednesday, giving them another six days plus the day to travel back to London. “Seems like we’re seeing quite a bit of Paris all in a rush. Why not spread it out more?”

Ellie froze, fork halfway to her mouth, and the guilty, sheepish smile she gave him said he had missed something. “Funny you mention that…”

“Oh, no, Miller. What did you do?”

“On Saturday we leave for Disney.” She gave him her brightest smile, which did nothing to help his plummeting mood.

“Seriously? Miller! You could’ve mentioned that,” he complained, grimacing at the thought. “Why?”

Her face dropped, head tilting down towards her plate, and he closed his eyes. Shit, shit, shit. Please don’t cry. A sniff proved that wish to be in vain, and he sighed.

“I’m sorry. Miller, c’mon. Why d’you want to go to Disney on your honeymoon?”

“It’s stupid,” she mumbled, before her head jerked up. “Oh, God, and now I know why he was so keen on the idea. I’m such a moron.”

Hardy ruffled his hair in frustration before leaning across the table towards her. It’s the fourth day and the first time she’s gotten so emotional. This could be worse, he reminded himself. “Ellie, please.”

“Don’t do that,” she sniffled, “don’t call me Ellie. I don’t want your pity.”

He waited her out, and eventually, she took a long drink of her water and dabbed at her eyes.

“Fine. I thought it would be good for us to go and have some fun, just blow off some steam. I’ve always wanted to go, and… the last year has been so stressful, planning the wedding, I just thought…” she sniffled, shaking her head with a sardonic smile. “I thought it would be a good balance. That by getting married we’re not sacrificing our inner child, that we can still play. That life isn’t just mortgages and jobs and babies and brunch. It’s silly, I know, but…” Ellie shrugged. “I know it’s probably not your thing, so if you don’t want to go that’s fine. I appreciate your company but you’re under no obligation. If you’d rather stay here or go back to London, I understand.”

She looked so sad, eyes watering as she put on a brave smile, and his stomach sank.

“Looks like we’re going to Disney.” He tried to keep the derision out of his voice, and judging by her brightening eyes, he mostly succeeded.

Oh boy, Disney. What fun.

Shit.

#bbatcfic #broadfic #Broadchurch #HardyxMiller #Alec Hardy #Ellie Miller #AU #The French Connection #platonic honeymoon fic

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