live in a brownstone in new york

Something no one asked for, I found and price all of America’s homes

Since we can used common denomination and figure out he lives in New York, New York except for his first home because there’s no mansions in NYC.

The first house it shows us he lives in is a gated mansion. Since there’s no mansions in NYC I went ahead and assumed this was Washington DC. I had to find a mansion with a gate and a big back yard since those are 2 things we know he has here. The closest looking one I could find came to 8 million.

This one was a lot easier. This is a Brownstone Style house that is in walking distance from to the city. This was really easy because I knew exactly what I was looking for I found almost the exact house. Because these are like my dream homes.

A house like this usually could be like 2-3 million. If it’s away from stuff. But since it’s that close to the city. This one within walking distance of central park is 11.5 million

Lastly we have his penthouse. If you don’t know much about NYC, then I’ll let you know you you can rent one for 14k a night if that tells you anything. Where Alfred lives it is very high up and has a view of the heart of the City. Also it’s huge and has multiply floors. and has a lot of windows and open rooms with a spiral staircase. so I found a pent house that was modern style with a city view. It went for 57.4 million. 

Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner?

Spoiler Alert: It’s Barba. Barba’s coming to dinner.

This was from a request received a LONG time ago regarding: Barba dating someone with a conservative/racist family from the Midwest. I can’t find the exact request to link to, but I had this in my WIP drafts with the bolded line as the title so… here we go.

Originally posted by sherrykinss

Please note: I absolutely mean no offense on any side for this little story, and am definitely utilizing stereotypes in both regards: My father’s side of the family was very conservative and blissfully-ignorant… I am absolutely basing this on people in my own Midwest-World experience.

“What kind of name is Barba?”

Rafael winced at the announcement of his name. “Cuban,” he advised simply, before leaning across and smiling at your aunt. “The dinner is delicious by the way, Ma'am.”

Why were you here? 

How had he convinced you that this would be a good idea? You hadn’t wanted to subject him to this. No, not at all, you had actually not even told him the invitation had arrived- he had found it on your fridge one evening he was visiting you after work.

An invitation. Who sends invitations for dinner parties?
Your sweet Aunt, of course.

“Cuban, eh?” Naturally, your father regarded this as an interesting opportunity(excuse) to be as passive-aggressive as humanly possible. “Is it normal over there to date younger?”

Younger? You were barely four years younger than your date…

Oh God; you took up your wine glass and gulped, calm Rafael only smiled and lay a palm atop your thigh to try and convey just how ‘fine’ this all was. “No, I just happen to be lucky enough to have caught youthful (Your Name)’s eye.”

Fine. That was how he said this evening would go- just fine.
The only Fine thing about this were the China dishes your aunt had pulled out from hiding.

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A New Start

“Bloody Hell!”

Daniel chuckled to himself as he heard his wife curse in the other room. Not that he could blame her of course. He was getting increasing frustrated as well but not nearly as much as Peggy.

They had been a year together in the L.A. house before the SSR was officially disbanded and SHIELD was formed. He was looking forward to the new agency and his role within it.

What he was not looking forward to was the process of moving.

Apparently he had accumulated a lot of stuff in the nearly two years since he had lived there. And then Peggy moved in with all her things and they collected things together and now there were moving boxes everywhere.

It seemed as if they had been packing for weeks but in reality it was mere days. They had less than two weeks to pack and move back to New York.

Last week they flew to New York to look at houses and quickly found a nice brownstone in a decent neighbourhood close to the SHIELD office. It was a stroke of luck that they managed to find it in such short of a time.

Of course, in Daniel’s opinion they paid a little more then he wanted to, but it was worth it. He could picture them both there, having coffee in the morning at the breakfast nook, lounging in the living room, perhaps even one day making use of the extra bedrooms with a few small children of their own.

He moved throughout the bedroom, checking to ensure all the boxes were taped up and ready to go. They still had the bathroom to finish and the kitchen although the living room was all packed up. They were so close to the end and that’s what made it so difficult.

Daniel sighed as he leaned against one of the boxes.

It was Wednesday and they were moving on Saturday. Luckily, Stark had offered the use of his private plane and they were having professionals unload their things in New York and take it to the house.

It was still going to be hellish though.

They would have approximately 48 hours to settle in before starting work on Monday. Already, Colonel Phillips had called several times and Daniel knew they would be diving right into work.

“What are you thinking about?”

Daniel turned and saw Peggy in the doorway, one hand on her hip.

“Just…this…” Daniel said, gesturing to the pile of boxes.

“I know, darling,” Peggy said, coming towards him. She pulled him into a hug, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s all a bit too much.”

“But we are almost there,” Daniel said, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Peggy pulled back and smiled.

“I know. And I’m looking forward to our new house. This house was yours first but the new house will be both of ours.”

Daniel hadn’t thought about it like that.

“Good point,” he said cheekily, pulling her in for a kiss. The kiss quickly grew heated.

“Now, now,” Peggy said sultrily, once she had pulled away. “No time for that. We have to pack the kitchen.”

Daniel groaned.

“Don’t worry darling,” said Peggy as she strutted towards the bedroom door. “I anticipate we will need a break soon.”

Daniel grinned and followed her to the kitchen.

The faster they could pack those damn boxes, the better.

Perhaps moving wasn’t so bad after all.


So this little story is based on my current situation. I found out I got a new job last Tuesday (hooray!), found an apartment on Wednesday and am moving this Saturday. I start my new job on Monday. It’s been a whirlwind but I’m super excited for this new opportunity. This is why I’m behind on all my Peggysous stories but I promise to be writing more next week when I’m settled!

On the Stoop of a Brownstone You Do Not Own

West Village, New York 10014

Spring crying is here!!!!! There is no better way to take advantage of the warmer weather than spending an afternoon crying on a great stoop! Plus - knowing the owner could come home at any moment and see you sobbing on their property is flat out exhilarating. You must try this cry immediately! The only downside is that you’re not fooling anyone - everyone walking by will know you don’t live here. People who own brownstones in NYC have absolutely zero reasons to cry in life and everyone knows this. Regardless, it’s still a wonderful crying spot, especially if enjoyed with an artisan cupcake and thinking about some recent mistakes you’ve made!!!! A+

Here to Stay || Justin & Brian

Justin had been lucky in the year and half since he had moved to New York City. He had found a couple of galleries that had asked him to do shows and had sold enough paintings to afford a beautiful brownstone in Brooklyn. The best part was the attic was a perfect studio for him. He was sitting in the window seat sketching a picture of himself intwined with his long distance boyfriend. He was excited because tonight he was flying in to visit him and he couldn’t wait. He hated being so far away from him but they both had their careers in the cities they each lived in. His heart sped up when the doorbell rang. Looking out the window he saw Brian with his luggage on his doorstep. He raced downstairs, threw open the door, and threw himself into Brian’s arms. “I missed you so much!”, he whispered in his ear. 


You taste so bitter and so sweet.

I needed some chering up over the weekend because of all the terrible thigs that took place in our world. Writing this gave me a little bit of help, and I hope it gives you too.  All my love to @supernim for the beta work.

This fic was inspired by this post. You can also read it here on Ao3

“Fuck this!” Stiles pressed the pillow in his face again and screamed “It’s the fucking fifth time just this week, I can’t take anymore barking from those damn hellhounds.” It didn’t matter what he did, he couldn’t get more sleep with all that noise .

See, Stiles loves dogs, he really, really does. But there is a big difference between liking a fluffy ball of happiness and having to put up  with two demon dogs barking at four in the morning when Stiles would love to get some shut eye. He had never laid eyes on the guy, but he heard his damn dogs barking all night, and every time he dropped by to ask the guy to do something about it, the guy was never home.

His apartment had a one bedroom suite, a kitchen, living room and a little balcony with a firescape. In all the honesty for the price they were asking, he would be actually living in pretty good conditions. Stiles loved his new home, it was small, looked like a hurricane had gone down on it  seventy percent of the time but it also had the impossible Stilinski charm.

The first few months were amazing, until his next door neighbour adopted two dogs and Stiles hero’s journey got his first villain.

Ugh, I might as well go earlier to work, he thought while taking a shower, and resigned himself to another day feeling unsettled and restless due to lack of sleep.

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Image: Langston Hughes (Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

In the 1920s and ‘30s, Langston Hughes was at the heart of the Harlem Renaissance. And after the movement ended, he didn’t go far: The writer moved into a brownstone on Harlem’s 127th Street, where he lived for the last 20 years of his life. The building is a national landmark, but it’s been mostly empty for decades. In that time, Harlem has begun to gentrify. Now, in an effort to keep Hughes’ former home from becoming one more high-end co-op, a neighborhood nonprofit is raising money to lease the building as an arts center.

Langston Hughes’ Harlem Home May Get Its Own Renaissance — As An Art Center

Pretty Girls

So, I wrote a thing. A Quinncedes thing. A Quinncedes (belated) birthday thing for shaloved30. A little Tay birdie told me ages ago about Sha’s headcanon where Quinn (who lives in Paris) surprises Mercedes (who lives in New York) with a visit.Cue the reunion and thangs.

What better way to wish one of the loveliest ladies a Happy Birthday than with a little lady lovin’? Happy Birthday, Sha! You can blame Tay for all of this, btw. 

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anakins-skywalkr  asked:

prompt: klaroline have been together for 100+ years,but things change when *something happens* and caroline leaves klaus. angst pls? it can have a happy or sad ending,it's up to you :)

For Canon-ish day! 

So, it turns out I’m allergic to angst because there is maybe like a milliliter of it here, and the rest is fluff, so sorry about that! There is going to be a second part to this…eventually. It’s about half written and it’s gonna be smutty, so hopefully I can get that done within the next week or so. 


Caroline refreshed her browser one more time, groaning as her email box remained empty. Klaus walked past her with an arched brow and tugged on one of her curls affectionately.

“Everything all right, love?”

“Yeah,” she said glumly, spinning around in her computer chair to face her hybrid boyfriend.

He handed her a mug of coffee mixed in with blood and pressed a kiss to her forehead as she caressed his wrist in thanks. The corners of his lips rose and he moved over to the other side of his study to his own computer and settled in his chair. Caroline bit back a grin at the domesticity of the scene.

If someone had told her nearly a hundred years ago when she first met Klaus that she would spend the last sixty years shacked up with him in eternal bliss, she would have laughed until she cried. Now she couldn’t imagine her life without him.

After Caroline’s mom passed away during her final year at Whitmore University, she took off for Europe after she realized that there was really nothing left for her in Mystic Falls. She spent the better part of thirty years traveling on her own, meeting up with Elena and the Salvatore of the decade every so often. It wasn’t until she ran into Rebekah, in Russia of all places, where she finally saw Klaus again.

One night in Moscow with a bottle of vodka and the taste of his lips on her tongue, Caroline finally decided that she was through running and exploring on her own, and she and Klaus had been together ever since.

Over their years together, they’d hit every single continent at least a couple of times besides Antarctica. Despite Klaus’ points that Caroline couldn’t get cold, the chilly air was enough to keep her from ever going back. However, she did appreciate the snuggling in the igloo he’d made his hybrids create a few weeks prior when they visited that one time.

They were currently back in New Orleans with Caroline back to school to work on her fourth degree, this time in advertising. She’d applied for a prestigious internship with one of New York’s biggest ad companies and the day arrived for her to finally hear from it and she was on edge.

Klaus hated to see her disappointed so he’d offered to compel her a place in the program if she didn’t get an offer, but it wasn’t met with a positive reception. She wanted to get the internship by herself, to prove that despite her older age (which was hilarious to Klaus whenever she said that), that she still had IT.

“Heard anything?”

“No,” she sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. “It’s probably best if I didn’t get it anyways. It’s too much to pack up and move to New York for just the summer.”

“Nonsense,” Klaus said, rolling his chair over to her. “I’ll have Fredrich prepare the brownstone.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Or I could just stay in a small studio apartment.”

“I don’t think your closet would fit into a studio apartment, love,” Klaus grinned, kissing her temple. “Let alone both of ours.”

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anonymous asked:

How do you feel about Catholic Dex?

Ooohh! Okay I like this headcanon a lot- I discussed this with my friend the other day and we have so A+ ideas that I’m going to try and incorporate. I’m guessing this is for the drabble thing? I hope you’re cool with this.  

Dex grew up poor, and most of his teammates have figured that out and try not to discuss money around him. They also slowly realized that Dex grew up Catholic, and that his upbringing played into his heteronormative perspective from freshman year despite how he started to question his sexuality. What they don’t know is that Dex almost went to seminary. Dex grew up with Bible stories at bed time and he’s been in Church every Sunday since he was six months old. It’s only when Holster took a theology class as his second humanities that people began to realize how religious Dex is.

They were seated around the kitchen table as Holster is looking over his books and Dex walked into the room after Chowder kicked his ass at Mario Kart. Pie was acquired and Dex leaned against the counter to eat and listened to Ransom and Holster discuss the homework assignment that Holster had been putting off until the last minute. 

“Bro, I don’t know. You’re the one in the class not me,” Ransom said and turned back to his biochem homework. 
“Okay but like, what is the answer? Was the world made in seven days or not?” Holster asked, and Dex could hear the frustration in his voice.

“I mean, that’s not really the important thing, is it?” Dex asked and both Ransom and Holster look up at him like he’s speaking a foreign language. Dex’s ears turned red and he made a waving gesture with his fork. “I mean… You can support either argument with the text. Six days plus one for resting if you take it literally, but also the way the writing is structured it’s not the same as the rest of the book, so it’s probably just the way stories were told to give praise to God. It could have been hundreds of thousands of years. Personally I like that idea, and I like the Big Bang thing because it says that God spoke, and like… gasses in an exhale, gasses colliding or whatever? That’s pretty cool, right? But there’s no right answer. The important thing as far as I see it is that God made us and we’re here,” he explained, hoping that things made sense and that it was helpful despite the stares they’re giving him in return.

“Don’t go anywhere. Sit down,” Holster tells him and pulls out his homework, and they go over everything together until it’s done. They’ve drawn in a few of the other guys and Dex is giving his own thoughts and feelings in addition to the things he learned in confirmation class and from his own reading.

“How do you know all this?” Holster asked when his homework was done and Dex gave a small shrug.
“Catholic. My parents are really involved in the church. You pick up things here and there. And I always thought the stories were pretty cool.”
“So you’re like… A Bible expert?” Nursey asked, raising his brow and collecting up the dishes. 
“Oh no way. Not even close. I mean, I almost went to seminary but… I dunno. I think I felt God more here at Samwell than I did at most of the other schools I went to visit. And I like engineering and it pays better than being a pastor, and I don’t really have that gift so. It makes more sense to be here. Plus hockey scholarship, so that’s swasome.” Dex said and though maybe no one but Bitty had heard of ‘feeling God’ before, they nodded. At the very least they understood the hockey thing.

Afterwards, Dex helped Holster with his homework on a regular basis, and while Dex gave the disclaimer of not being an expert, he would give his views on some of the Christian teachings and pointed out flaws in the way many conservative Christians thought. He made sure to be open with his friends when they had questions, and told them truthfully when he didn’t know the answer to their questions. When Dex got into a fight defending Bitty and told the offender who was holding his broken nose that the God he loved would never turn someone away for loving other people as deeply as they could in any way they could, Bitty made him pies for days and Dex reveled in how much it felt like the team had his back now more than ever before.

By the time Dex was a senior, he’d stopped going to mass in favor of the non-denominational churches near by, and he’d dealt with his own internalized homophobia though there were some days he did better than others. He and Nursey were dating, and though his family wasn’t pleased, they were very much against abandoning him. Even so, Dex decided that New York was probably a better place to live in a homosexual relationship than Maine. He moved into the Brownstone Nursey’s parents owned after graduation, happy to have found a balance in his life between his love for God and his love for Derek Nurse. 


January 31st 1988 - The Limelight, New York, NY
One of the few acoustic/electric shows by the band. That night they played the only known live performance of “Cornshucker”.  Before “Mr. Brownstone”, Axl sings a few lines of ”Not Fade Away” by The Rolling Stones.  Axl was pissed because GN'R wasn’t supposed to play this show, so he leaves after “Patience”  The band then jams on some songs. Then one roadie go on stage to sing a couple of songs. Axl returned to the stage occasionally to help on vocals.


This was a prompt I saw from @omeliafics that read, “Derek is alive and Amelia tells him about the unicorn baby,” and since I hate myself, I had to write it. Also, rather than making an AU where Derek is still alive, I set this shortly after she came to Seattle.

The middle of the night held a particular silence to which Derek would probably never become accustomed. All his life, he had lived in chaos; from the Shepherd home filled with screaming sisters to the bustle of New York outside the brownstone he shared with Addison and the never-ending series of pages for a doctor on-call most of his adult life. And now with a wife and two small children, a moment of silence was a rare thing – one he both loved and hated all at once.

But in the silence, anything could be heard; any sound, no matter how faint. A small hum, soft sniffles he followed out into the den. Flipping on a light, his eyes took a minute to adjust, and he blinked a few times before the ducked head of his baby sister came into view. The backs of her thumbs dabbed at her eyes and she tried to hide herself from him to little avail.


“Hey.” Her voice was unusually cracked and weak – an irritating tell, if ever there was one – and she cleared her throat. “What are you doing up?”

Derek offered a smile, laying a hand on his belly. “Meredith told me you and Zola baked a cake earlier,” he answered, earning a small laugh in return. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?”

Amelia shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get up and watch a movie or something.”

Eyes flickered toward the blank television screen. “Sounded more like crying,” he exhaled, forgetting the cake and moving around the couch to take a seat at her side.

Jaw locked, teeth clenched together. She didn’t answer. She didn’t want to answer. They both knew.

“Amy, come on. Talk to me. Did something happen with James? I know you don’t want me to Big Brother you, but if he hurt you–”

“We broke up,” she replied. “But that’s not– This isn’t–” She cleared her throat again. “I’m fine.”

“If you’re fine, then I’m Dora the Explorer.”

Eyes narrowed, lips tugging into a smile just for a hint. “What?”

“Hazards of having kids,” Derek chuckled before allowing solemnity to take over his expression once more.

She nodded, biting down on her tongue to distract from the twist of her gut. Hazards of having kids. Of course. He was a good dad. Zola and Bailey were lucky. But that didn’t stop the vibrations of the blood in her veins or the ice that seemed to shoot outward from her chest, pooling in her fingers and toes. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Amelia pulled her knees up against her chest, tucking her feet beneath her.


Nails picked at the skin around her cuticles. The heartbeat in her ears only drowned out by a familiar squeak, and then a yell – the same which had roused her from her sleep. Muscles tensed from the roar in her mind, and she swallowed hard. Nights were always the worst, but none quite so bad as this; the anniversary of his short life’s start and end. His birthday.

“Do you know why I never called you back when you needed that nerve transplant?” she mused.

“Because you don’t take calls from lowly interns when your brother should be telling you things himself?” he tried.

She shook her head without bothering to muster even a small laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you,” Amelia corrected. “I didn’t want to see anybody. Or anybody to see me.”

Brows furrowed. That was not what he expected to hear. She had been doing so well; or so she had insisted. Was she okay? Had she relapsed again without his knowledge? Eyes fixed, scrutinizing her every move. Was she high right now? Had he allowed her to babysit his kids under the influence? Fists clenched, nerves and anger starting to boil before they were given proper reason.

“I had a baby.”

Wait, what? Her words echoed a few times in his mind before they could be processed. She had a baby? His sister had a baby and he never knew about it? Was he being punked? ( Was that still a thing? ) And yet the gravity felt by the red rims outlining cerulean orbs, the jut of her lip, the salty remnants of a river across her cheeks told him this was far from a joke. She had a baby….but she didn’t have one now. His heart seemed to stop, breath ceasing altogether.

She closed her eyes, letting her head drop off to the side as she did all she could to turn away from him, unable to view the fallout of her bombshell. Shoulders stiffened almost up at her ears as the youngest Shepherd curled in on herself. “I had a baby, Derek. And he was…the most beautiful baby I have ever seen,” she exhaled, fresh tears burning at her eyes. “He would have been two years old today.” And instead, all he got were forty-three minutes, but at least the comfort he had known was the warmth of his mother’s arms.

And in that moment, his heart seemed to shatter against the walls of his chest. What words were there to say to a grieving mother that could ever take away her desolation? What words were there when you just found out your nephew had died before you knew he existed? “Amelia, what–”

Lips smushed together, eyes lifting toward the ceiling as she tried to compose herself to little avail. “Anencephaly,” she answered without bothering to let him finish the question. “Real ironic, right? A neurosurgeon having a baby with no brain? The universe has a sick sense of humor.”

He choked on the lump in his throat, wrapping an arm around the younger woman. For a second, she resisted, tempted to pull back or recoil, but arms wrapped around him and Amelia melted into her brother’s hold.

“You should have called me,” Derek whispered, salted sorrow pricking at his own eyes.

“So, what? You could 3-D print him a brain? That’s not how it works,” she muttered.

“So I could have been there for you.”

I didn’t want anyone, she wanted to say, but that wasn’t true. She hadn’t thought she could be strong with her family around. She hadn’t thought she could make it through alive and sober if she had to deal with their looks of pity and sadness. It made it too real. But now she craved the real; any reminder that he once had been. The solitary photo that Addison had snapped when she wasn’t looking. The stretch marks so faint no one could see unless they knew just where to look. The tiny blue cap in the drawer of her night stand. Anything to which she could hold beyond the nightmares that kept her awake on nights like this. The nightmares of beautiful images of little boys with dark hair and creamy skin and eyes a shade of blue so bright it could put the sky to shame. Nightmares of tiny feet trampling across the deck of Addison’s beach house or laughter echoing through the halls of St. Ambrose. Dreams of a life that should have been turned to horror for the truth to which she would wake each day. He was gone. And she didn’t want to be the only one who remembered.

He didn’t say anything more, just pressed a kiss to the side of her head, tightening his hold and letting her rest against him until at last she could pull away.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Amelia whimpered, brushing away her tears as cheeks began to burn.

“Like what?”

“Like some pathetic little girl crying in the corner of a convenience store. Pity. Guilt.”

“That’s not how I’m looking at you,” Derek stated, earning him a sardonic eyebrow raise. “Amy, you are one of the strongest, bravest women I have ever known. That’s one of the things that terrifies me the most. You don’t need your big brother to swoop in and protect you, I just wish sometimes you’d let me be there to cheer you on while you protect yourself.”

Her gaze fell, thumbs pressing together in her lap as she mulled over his final words. “Thank you,” she muttered.

He nodded, quiet for a moment as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, blinking away the tears that had formed. Shifting his gaze toward the television, an idea struck. Sleep didn’t seem much of an option for either of them right then, and when they were kids and she crawled into his bed in the middle of the night after a bad dream, he used to take her out to the living room to watch cartoons until inevitably Carolyn discovered them and sent them back to bed. Well, no one could send them back to bed now. “Well, I’m going to grab some of that cake. How about we watch that movie you were talking about?” Derek suggested, climbing to his feet and making his way to the adjoining kitchen.

“You’re big brother-ing me,” she returned.

“Yeah, but I was hoping you’d allow it just this once,” he replied, cutting himself a much more than generous slice.

Amelia bit down on her lip, weighing her options before giving a nod. “Fine. But only if you grab some of that cake for me, too.”

“Deal,” Derek agreed, grabbing a second plate as she turned back to set up the first trashy film she could find on Netflix. “Made of Honor? Really?” he judged, handing over her cake as he plopped down next to her.

“Shut up and watch.” She rolled her eyes, taking a single bite of the cake before laying it to rest on the cushion beside her. And just as when they were kids, she laid her head to rest against his shoulder, one arm looping beneath his as she nuzzled closer, barely waiting for the opening credits to pass before letting her eyes drift closed.

“Goodnight Amy,” he whispered.

“Goodnight Derek.”

prompt: The lows and highs of trying for a baby.

They’ve been trying for months now, and though everybody is telling her that it’s too early to worry, Rachel can’t help but feel a niggle of doubt with every negative result. She went through fertility tests when she was preparing to give Kurt and Blaine the greatest gift, and an incredible stroke of luck left her pregnant on their very first attempt.

She and Jesse haven’t been quite so lucky.

She knows that have a good six months before they can even begin to get worried about it. But each time she finds out she isn’t pregnant, it’s like feeling her dreams of motherhood and family pulled further away, each time a little more disappointing and a little more worrying. They never expected it to happen overnight. They did, however, expect it to happen eventually.

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Sports Reporter Riley Matthews whole world is turned upside down with Shortstop Lucas Friar signs with the Yankees, can she keep the secrets she’s held onto for the last thirteen years, can he keep the secrets he’s held onto?

Cross-posted to 


“Do you Riley take Lucas to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

Riley’s eyes shot open as she looked around trying to figure out where she was at the moment. Reese’s apartment, yes she knew by the windows, the lights of Manhattan pouring in between the blinds.

Here she was having that damn dream again.

She hated that dream, but she loved it as well.

Thirteen years, and dreams of him still haunted her, this one though really only the last three years.

She slipped out of bed, stealing a glance at Reese’s naked form twisted in the sheets.  She went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, taking a deep breath, looking at her reflection, here she was thirty-one years old, only a few hours ago she’d made love to her fiancé, but yet still dreaming of the man who broke her heart far too long ago.

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