#i don’t think he lives in my yard but he visits frequently

[butcherb1rd]

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

Living the DREAM

Much to my great disappointment, I don’t often remember dreams and only hazily recall them when I do. Lately though, I’ve remembered more of them, perhaps because in the work-from-home era I’m less often jarred to consciousness by an alarm clock. Now, my mind surfaces naturally, and floats between sleep and full consciousness, as dreams drift like fog around my pillow. 

In this semi-awake state, last night’s dreams are as crisp the memories of yesterday’s reality. But the dreams burn off quickly, leaving behind only snatches of imagery that don't make much sense. Some people have full recall of very structured dreams, with plots & character arcs that a screenwriter would be proud of. I’m not one of them, unfortunately.

I frequently remembered dreams in childhood. Children dream more than adults, who spend about 15-20% of their sleep time in REM (the part of sleep when we dream) whereas newborn babies spend 40-50% of their sleeptime in REM. It is debatable whether they’re dreaming in the way that adults do, but certainly after a few months, babies start to dream.

In my childhood, I believed that we all visit a real place when we dream. That dreams were memories of adventures our spirits had in an actual place each night, before journeying back to our bodies. I haven't thought this since being a wee child, but it was a firm belief at one time. Probably formed from an amalgam of ideas absorbed from all over the place - barely understood notions of the Catholic Heaven (learned in 2nd grade catechism classes) perhaps combined with hazy ideas of the Aboriginal DREAMTIME, learned at school. Add a few ideas heard in movies & conversation, and my half-baked cosmology was born. 

According to this belief, a dream where I met my childhood friend Stephen, meant that we’d both actually met in some kind of DreamLand outside our bodies. This theory was never challenged by the fact that he didn't remember any such encounter, when asked in the school-yard next day. Because I’d heard somewhere that we don't remember all our dreams from each night, and just assumed he’d forgotten this one. 

As we age, we dream progressively less, sadly. Even so, if adults get their standard 8 hours of sleep each night, they dream for about an hour and a half. Watching the equivalent of a 90 minute movie in the head-multiplex, every night of our lives. In early adulthood, I'd write my dreams down, but got out of the habit and soon lost ready access to my own subconscious.

Given that we spend so much time doing it, WHY do we dream? One idea is that dreaming is where problems are worked through subconsciously, much faster than conscious thinking can. This certainly rings true to me. Often, a creative issue I tangle with in daytime somehow clicks into place overnight and the solution is there waiting for me in the morning. There really is wisdom to the phrase ’sleep on it’ (fermentation is part of problem solving, it seems). Another theory is that dreaming preserves the visual cortex by keeping it active, even when the eyes are closed for a third of a day (and ancient humans would have spent a lot of time in the dark, especially in the northern winter).

Do animals dream? There is more & more evidence that even invertebrates may dream. That other mammals dream is no surprise. We’ve all seen our pets whimper and even run in their sleep. It is thought that all mammals dream, but some may do so in different ways. The sleep cycles of whales & dolphins are unique among mammals, in that falling asleep is fatal to fully aquatic air breathers. They get around this problem by sleeping with half a brain at a time. Migratory birds, continuously in the air for weeks, also use this technique, with one hemisphere sleeping while the other stays aware of the world. Perhaps this way of sleeping means they do not enter REM sleep. Does this mean they cannot dream?

Koalas doze for up to 22 hours every day, dreaming of lush eucalypt forests, I expect (or perhaps nightmares of DropBears.. ) For all this rest, in their brief periods of wakefulness they always appear groggily still half asleep. Humans aren't as dozy as koalas by any means, but it is a nutty fact that we spend one third of our lifetimes asleep. If I live to be 90, I will have spent 30 years snoring, and fully 6 entire years dreaming. Existing in an insane fugue state, flying around by flapping my arms, or being chased through molasses by giant nuns..

It has always been a mystery to me why the word “dream” is so aspirational? Freddy Kreuger is proof that popular culture occasionally acknowledges the disturbing aspects of dreams, but overwhelmingly, the word “dream” is positive. Simply by adding it to any other word - dream job, dream home, dream vacation, the American Dream etc - that other word gets levelled UP. I’m not sure why this is so. To me, dreams are not inherently positive. An actual ‘dream vacation’ would certainly involve involuntary nudity in a foreign country, and an actual ‘dream job’ would be utterly terrifying.. working in a slaughterhouse or something. Far from being a plus, "living the dream" sounds utterly horrifying to me. I am relieved that my real life is NOT "a dream come true".. 

However, I’d like to remember more of these nutty narratives that the screenwriter in my head writes every night. It seems a tragic waste to forget them all. It has occurred to me though, that my forgetfulness might not be a bug but a failsafe feature. That my own subconscious may be deliberately protecting me from some of the demented stuff it gets up to each night.. “Baker, You can’t handle the TROOF!”

Ha ha!

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 5

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You and Sam spend some quality time together.

Author’s Note: n/a

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

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Ugh.

After kicking a stray branch to the side, I lay my axe into a tree that seems to be set on never giving in.

“Fall, damnit!” I mutter under my breath as I swing again.

Another hit, and the tree’s looking a bit more wobbly. I’ve been at this for an hour, this tree being only my second.

“Please give, you… gigantic splinter!”

Thunk. 

Some leaves and twigs fall into Cannoli’s water bowl. I’ll scoop those out later.

Thunk.

Ooh, my shoulder popped. That felt kinda nice.

Thunk.

What if squirrels live in here? I frown. Well, they’ve had plenty of time to evict.

Thunk.

The tree finally falls. I fall too, voluntarily, giving myself a break. Grandpa must’ve been ripped. 

Cannoli walks up to me, meowing in my face with his smelly cat breath to see if I’m alive. I close my eyes and pull him onto my belly, wondering how it truly is that I got here. Like, obviously I just took a bus here , but I mean in the grand scheme, you know? How did life turn out this way?

It’s been a bit over a month since moving to Pelican Town, and with the exception of the Egg Festival, as well as visiting Pierre and Robin for some purchases, I’ve been working on the yard almost nonstop. It feels like I’ve barely made a dent. Hopefully this is rewarding at some point.

I hear footsteps approaching, but I continue to lay where I am. Maybe if I stay still they won’t see me… like bears, or dinosaurs or whatever. 

… 

Nope, they seem to be getting closer…

They’re actually, like, booking it towards me, holy shit—

“Whoa (y/n), are you ok?!” 

I recognize that voice.

“Yeah, I’m—”

I open one of my eyes mid-answer as Cannoli hops off of me, but don’t get a chance to finish, as there is a gigantic puppy mere inches from my face. 

Both my eyes now wide open, I squeak. “Sam, what the fuck!”

I tumble out of the way to create distance, signaling that my personal bubble has been invaded, and lean up on my elbows. 

“Sorry!” he responds, rubbing the back of his neck. Go off, anime protag.

I wave him off, accept the apology, and begin absentmindedly picking the debris off of my overalls and out of Cannoli’s water.

“What’s up?”

“I just wanted to see what you were up to!”

I nod and answer, “I hate to break it to you, but there’s nothing fun going on. Feel free to hang around if you want, though. I could use the company.”

“Will do, little lady!” 

He pulls a Joja Cola out of each pocket of his hoodie, and offers me one. I accept, but not without shuddering at the sight of the word “Joja.”

Since the night we hung out at Stardrop, I’ve only seen Abby twice, once being at the Egg Festival when she practically tried to fight some children for the egg hunt. 

I definitely hoped I would see Seb during my several trips to visit Robin — who I consider a friend now, in a motherly sense I suppose — and my prayers were answered. I got invited to tag along on his trips to their kitchen, and sometimes for his smoke breaks by the lake as well.

The Egg Festival was an eventful day for the two of us, and I think it strengthened our bond enough to have those little moments of quiet spent together count as something meaningful. At least, that’s my opinion. I’m probably just horny and delusional. Anyway. Our short and uneventful hangouts became more frequent than they had been, in the short time since meeting him prior.

But Sam, unlike the other two-thirds of the A.S.S. Squad, I’ve encountered a ton now and without really seeking him out. Not that I mind. He’s good company and easy to talk to. Whether he’s working on his kickflip technique, bugging Pierre to find out where his daughter is, or walking somewhere with his little brother, he always seemed to be around. And every time I’ve seen him, he’s been just as enthusiastic as the night we met.

I’m thankful to have some friends so soon. Especially this guy.

I get up to stretch, and he gets up as well, scooping Cannoli up off the ground with him. The cat meows in protest, but cozies up to Sam anyway.

“So uh,” he says, unusually serious, “I have some questions for ya.”

“Oh no.”

“Nothing bad, don’t worry!” he claims, “Just some things me and Abby have been curious about.”

I repeat myself – “Oh no.”

“What?!” he pouts.

I look at him expectantly, while picking up my scythe to get some more weeds and tallgrass out of my way.

Sam continues, “So, as you know, Abby is… a lot.” 

“Birds of a feather, etcetera.”

“Fuck you!” he laughs. “Anyway, she gets pretty territorial, and wants to know what your take on Sebby is. I guess she’s getting a little jealous.” 

“Are they dating or something?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“Is he into her?”

“Not that I know of.”

“So why is she being all weird about us?” I practically whine. “Does she think I’m gonna, like, ruin your friend group by trying to be a part of it or something?”

Hopefully the extent of this is “the new girl is stealing my man that isn’t my man >:(“ and nothing more.

“She’s just got some… issues,” he responds, shrugging.

You could say that again.

“Well, Seb seems like a chill guy. I don’t know him too well, so I can’t say much.”

That’s a lie. I know some dark shit about his inner demons and whatnot. I took a vow of silence on that. Made it a pinky promise and everything.

Sam nods, letting Cannoli escape and pocketing his hands.

“I’ve never really seen him warm up to someone so fast,” Sam explains. 

“You sure it wasn’t that liquid courage at the saloon that helped him, I dunno, secure his comfort with me so early?” I ask. “Sure as hell did wonders for me.”

He shakes his head. I shrug. 

“He talks about you quite a bit, too.”

I almost stop scything, but don’t want to look too curious, so I keep going. I wanna seem cool, for whatever reason. Even if I’m far from it.

“Yeah?”

“I mean, we both do.”

Sam blushes ever so slightly. Oh?

“You two talkin’ shit?” I joke, diverting any and all attention from my own rosy cheeks by dropping my tool and throwing some air punches Sam’s way.

“Nah, no, nothing like that!” He meets every fist with a bump from his own, laughing. “Sorry, this is, like, really weird. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

I sigh, knowing it would be cruel to pry answers out of the sweet boy. 

“It’s fine, dude. You can make it up to me by distracting me from… this,” I say, presenting the newly fallen tree and freshly cut grass with my arms.

“You wanna go play some Junimo Kart?”

“Mind if I shower first?” 

“Please do, you smell.”

I lightly whack his arm as he chuckles at his own comment, and I jog to the deck, trying to be speedy so he doesn’t get bored while waiting for me.

From the doorway I shout, “You should come in, I just got an AC installed by Robin yesterday!”

Sam beams and runs my way, with Cannoli in tow.

__________________

“Why are we here?”

“Just to suffer.”

“Ok, Sebastian.”

Sam gasps dramatically, as if jokingly calling him the resident emo boy was an insult. 

Since returning from the saloon – where we hadn’t planned on drinking, but did anyway – Sam and I have been laying on the beach, watching the sky. We’re sober now, but neither of us want to move. There’s a meteor shower going on. It’s hard to see the shooting stars through the clouds, but man, are they pretty when you can.

“I can’t believe Junimo Kart turned into this,” he says, barely above a whisper. He’s got a point. What seemed like an activity that would take up a few hours lasted all day.

I face him and smugly reply, “I can’t believe you were that trash at Junimo Kart.”

He mocks me, making his voice very high-pitched and annoying as he repeats back what I’d just said. Laughing, I look up at the stars, and study what I can see. I know nothing about constellations, but I do think I’m looking at Libra right now. I wonder…

“Do you know your zodiac sign, Sam?”

“You believe in that stuff?”

“Eh, just think it’s fun,” I shrug. 

“Y’know what, that’s pretty rad, actually.”

“Yeah, so are you,” I say half-heartedly, not meaning too much by it.

Sam doesn’t read it that way though.

He gasps and beams, and I brace myself, rightfully so, as he practically flops onto me and buries his hands into the sand beneath me for a hug. He doesn’t move for a hot minute. I pat his back, hoping it’ll solve this. He still won’t budge. I think I killed him.

“Yer heavier than y’look…” I struggle to say.

“You smell nicer than you look.” 

I’m trying to laugh and defend myself from the (hopefully) fake insult. Alas, I’m too winded to get anything out, with… you know, an entire 6’1”, maybe 6’2”, man on top of me . 

“S’that why yer not movin’?” I squeeze out.

Sam nods, and I manage to push him off. He repositions himself to lay on my stomach, and while I’m 99% sure whatever this is is platonic, it still made my heart skip a beat. I’m fucking depraved… 

I instinctively start to play with his hair. Considering how much gel he probably uses to get it so tall, you’d think it would be a lot crunchier than this — but it’s honestly really soft. 

The more we lay here, the more I think of how nice Sam’s hair is, and how nice he is, and that despite being such a big goofball he is shockingly attractive, and — Yoba. I’m sober as can be, so I can’t even use being drunk as an excuse. I try to distract myself by going back to the zodiac stuff. Hopefully he can’t hear my increased heart rate from down there.

“So, you never told me your sign,” I say.

“I don’t know it. Abigail tried to explain all that junk once, but it didn’t stick.”

“When is your birthday, then?”

“August 17th.”

“Ugh, a Leo.”

“What do you mean ‘ugh?!’”

“One of my exes is a Leo.”

“I thought you didn’t really believe in this stuff though,” Sam rebuttals, sounding slightly dejected.

“I don’t…”

I can feel him waiting for my explanation.

I giggle, “Except when it comes to Leos.”

“Mannnn…” 

Our laughing comes to a halt when we see a whole group of shooting stars fly by at once. I’m in awe, and from the quiet “whoa” that came from Sam, it seems like he is too.

Y’know those Winter Star lights that people hang up, that are shaped like icicles, and they flicker down in a line to emulate that the bulbs are melting ice? This meteor shower reminds me of those. Only difference is, the stars aren’t attached to each other by a wire. They have free will, and damn are they taking advantage of that. It’s the most beautifully chaotic thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

“That was so sick.”

“I’ll never get tired of seeing it,” Sam mutters dreamily.

We continue laying there, just taking in the sounds of the waves, the stars – and occasional shooters – that float above us. 

Every once in a while, a question comes up from one of us, and we both wind up answering it: What’s your full name? What’s the saddest thing that’s ever happened to you? What about the happiest ? What are your parents like? You ever feel like everyone in the world’s got life figured out, except for you? Ya know. All light stuff.

I slowly prop myself up onto my elbows, feeling like it’s about time to go home. As I move, Sam sits himself up to face me, leaving one of his hands next to my right hip, opposite from where his body is laying on the left. We’re in, like, a pseudo-kabedon sort of position right now and oh boy. My heart can’t catch a break with these Pelican Town babes, huh?

I stutter, because fuck me, I guess, “W-we should probably head home.”

It seems like Sam is about to answer, but instead he just looks at me. I think he noticed the intimacy of this situation too, but he doesn’t look at all embarrassed — he just stares. Not in a creepy way, but rather like he’s observing me.

It starts with my eyes, then his gaze trails to my lips, and it lingers. They follow my bone structure back up to my eyes, and further north to my forehead, where my (h/c) tresses are falling into my face a bit. He brushes the hair behind my ear for me, and keeps his hand there for a sec. I worry he’s about to bust a move, but instead he just smiles as softly as ever and looks back into my eyes.

This is the most calm I’ve ever seen Sam look, and frankly, he has me in a trance. Despite the heat in my cheeks and ears, and the rapid beats of my heart, I feel just as relaxed as he looks, albeit more confused than anything.

“You’re, like, totally pretty.” 

At that comment, I snap out of it and look down, trying to hide my ever-growing blush from the moonlight. At first, I just shake my head. I’ve never been good at taking compliments. I can’t help but smile super wide. Why am I speechless? I feel like I’m a third grader whose crush just told me he likes me on the playground. 

“So are you,” I manage to squeak out after a moment, laughing at myself.

Sam lets out a sort of exasperated laugh and stands up, helping me up in the process. The walk to town is quiet, and when we reach his house, the most of a goodbye we exchange is a quick “G’night,” that happens almost in unison (gross). It’s followed by a fist bump, before we separate.

I spend my walk home from there trying to figure out what the actual fuck happened. I stop in front of Marnie’s barn, and gaze at the one cow that decided to sleep outdoors tonight. I pet her through the fence, looking for emotional support in the form of a giant, fluffy animal. She lets out a huff but continues sleeping.

Was that a date? It sure as hell didn’t start off like one, but once Sam and I got to the beach… I don’t even know. It’s not like we had any romantic drunken moments together — we just played a bunch of games, and then decided to go there.

At night.

Alone.

I feel like a lot of people would call that a date. Though, if I didn’t know him better, that would surely be a recipe for a horror movie, wouldn’t it? The Murders of Pelican Town, starring Samson the Slasher. 

Wiping the cow dander off my hands and onto my shorts, I begin to walk again, I think back to what Sam said this afternoon: 

“[Seb] talks about you quite a bit… I mean, we both do.”

What did that mean? Oh Yoba, does that mean he’s going to tell Sebastian about whatever thing just happened? I wonder if he’ll get jealous... but why do I care?

I’m sure Abby will feel crabby about it, but I know I won’t care about her feelings considering how weird she is with me. 

God, I wanna know what her deal is. Like she’s totally seeming to be one of those types that sees other girls as competition, rather than a potential friend. I hope I’m wrong. I don’t want to deal with that sorta thing. Never thought I would again. 

I look up at the sky while navigating my way through the forest that is my yard, and see another shooting star through the trees. The sky, the people, the flora and fauna… everything about the deep rurals of Stardew Valley is so perfect. Grampleton can’t even hold a candle to this, and that town is gorgeous. This all feels too good to be true. 

When I arrive inside my cabin, I let the exhaustion I’ve built up throughout the day take over. I don’t bother to wash my face or change — I simply strip out of everything other than my sports bra and briefs, and throw myself at my bed, making sure to avoid crushing a sleeping Cannoli.

Maybe I’ll interrogate Sam sometime soon. Maybe I’ll visit Seb and get his take on how Sam feels about me and on what happened at the beach. I don’t wanna just barge in on him for that, though… he’s probably got better things to do than advise me. I just wish I knew if Sam’s a friend, or if he simply has feelings and is trying to shmooze me by being nice to me.

I guess these are problems I can worry about tomorrow.

[bonetrousled]

I just read the tape woman post and I am now desperate to know about your family curse.

alright so basically my dad’s side of the family has this statue of a little guy called the buddha (mind you it is not a statue of a buddha. i don’t know why it’s called this but it’s been called that since before my father was born) they’ve been passing around for YEARS as a gag gift.

it started when my great grandmother got it as a housewarming gift. she thought it was ugly so she gave it away to goodwill. eventually someone else bought said statue and sold it at a yard sale to one of my great grandmothers friends who had NO idea she’d already owned it and gifted it back to her.

the name of the game is to give the statue to someone else on that side of the family, though there are some unspoken rules like that it has to be for something. you can’t just go up to someone’s house and drop the thing off and then leave

the thing w the statue is that when you OR the people you live with are in possession of it your life will go to absolute SHIT until you get rid of it. the last time my immediate family had it i was like 2 years old and it’s the reason i’m afraid of stinging insects. i was attacked by swarms of wasps on a good few occasions, i got nosebleeds at the same time every night + was frequently sick, our house almost caved in, our car kept breaking down, but most notably broke down on the way to visit my siblings a state away. this thing began playing the fisher price nursery rhyme cassette i had in the radio while we waited for triple a to tow us out . said tape got stuck on the last verse of the farmer in the dell where it goes THE CHEESE STANDS ALONE THE CHEESE STANDS ALONE and when the tow truck guy showed up he was just like <:) oh um. that’s weird huh? haha while we stared at him

other things the statue has caused have been a man getting into a car accident immediately after using it as an ashtray at a family party, my cousin’s wife leaving him and taking all of his belongings, my friend’s little brother breaking his thumb after flicking it when i TOLD him not to touch it, and that’s just all the shit i can remember off the top of my head and have been present for. multiple people have tried to be nice to it, made it little clothes, talked politely to it etc and it just seemed to make it angrier

LUCKILY i don’t have it in my possession rn but i think there’s some residual Weird Energy because of how my life has been ever since. i refuse to keep a photo of it on my phone and i don’t wanna post it to a Mass Social Media Site so ur just gonna have to trust me on this one. friends of mine can vouch for me that this thing exists and is evil

said divorced cousin still has it because he “likes the way his life is going” but i doubt that. supposedly it’s from a spencer’s gifts and was sold as an incense burner and when one of my cousins got in touch w the company to ask if it was ever sold there they claimed they never once ever sold it. my life is hell

[fruitcoops]

hi <3 i hope you’re well and having a beautiful day so far. i was wondering if you could write a fic about sirius or logan’s brother like relationship to adele - for example, how they would approach her when she’s having a bad day or when she needs advice about something or maybe even after a disagreement with her parents. no worries if you can’t, i just thought it would be a wholesome interaction 💕

Oh, for sure! Katie and Logan get so much attention (for good reason--they're adorable), but I like to think of Sirius and Adele as the blueprint. Hope you enjoy! Combined with asks for Logan and Loops friendship, Papa Dumo (for @ jinxedjaz), Sirius coming back from visiting his parents while living with the Dumais, and Sirius-learning-to-people from this hc list. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

I

A little hand tugged on the hem of Dumo’s sweater. “Papa?”

He glanced up from his crossword and smiled, turning to lift Adele into his lap. “Bonjour, mon papillon. Do you want to help me?”

“Is Sirius okay?”

Dumo paused. His first instinct was to lie—how could he even begin to explain the complexity of the situation to a seven-year-old?—but the brightness in Adele’s big eyes told him she already knew the answer. She was a smart kid. She deserved to know at least some of the truth. “He’s having a tough day,” Dumo said quietly as dishes clinked in the other room. No matter what he and Celeste tried, Sirius insisted on washing up. “He’ll be alright.”

A little furrow appeared between Adele’s eyebrows. “Is it because of us? Because he misses his family now?”

“No, sweetheart, not at all. He just…” The words were impossible to find. “He just doesn’t like holidays very much.”

She worried her lower lip for a moment before wiggling free of his arms. “I’m going to make him feel better.”

“Adele—” Dumo made a grab for her, but she had already scampered out of reach and around the corner to the kitchen. In the three days since Sirius had come back from Thanksgiving, he had already reverted back to his shut-down ghost of a self.

“Excuse me, please,” Adele announced. The sink shut off. “Are you sad?”

That’s certainly one way to do it. Dumo craned his neck to watch their reflections in the glass of the back door without revealing his position. Sirius was always more comfortable around the kids than himself and Celeste. “Quoi?” Sirius asked, turning to face her.

“Are you sad? You’ve been frowny.”

Silence fell for a few seconds. “Ouais, a little,” he said at last. “But I’m not sad because of you.”

“That’s good. Papa said so, too. He says you don’t like holidays, but that’s so silly, because we were just talking about Christmas last week.”

“I like some holidays,” Sirius said haltingly. There was a rustling noise; Dumo saw him pick Adele up and settle her on his hip with a thoughtful tilt to his head. “I’m very excited to spend Christmas with you.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

“Good. I want you to spend all the holidays with us. Will you be frowny on Christmas, too?”

“I don’t think so.” Dumo could practically hear Sirius’ smile. “See? I’m already better.”

“Will you open presents with me? Marc and Louis always open theirs together, and Mama and Papa, but Katie’s too little to do it with me. I like playing Santa, but it means I hafta go last.”

In the glass, Dumo saw Sirius press a raspberry kiss to her cheek until she burst into giggles; his grin lit up the whole kitchen. “Of course I will.”

II

“You have to smile,” Adele groaned. “You’re scaring off all my customers.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

She turned a big, sunshine grin on him, pressing her fingers into her dimples to exaggerate it. “Big smiles! You like being here! These are the best cookies you’ve ever had! Everyone should try them!”

“They should!” Sirius agreed. “I don’t know why you’re upset!”

She heaved a sigh and clonked her forehead on his stomach, knocking some of the air out of his lungs. “You look scary when you don’t smile.”

“I do not.”

“You do! You’re built like a brick wall and when you’re thinking, you get frowny!” She adjusted her Girl Scout vest and straightened up. “You have to be perky and fun and the cutest little kid on the block.”

“…I might have a problem with the last part.”

“Then I’ll be the cutest little kid on the block,” she said, exasperated.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you think I’m scary?”

“No,” she snorted. “But other people do.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way. Mama looks surprised when her face relaxes, but you’re, like, looming.”

“So…you’re upset with how my face looks?” he teased, dodging her attempt to poke his ribs.

“No, I just don’t need a bodyguard to sell cookies!”

“That’s literally what I’m here for,” he laughed, tugging one of her pigtails until she stuck her tongue out at him. “Alright, madame, I’ll try to be ‘perky’ and ‘fun’.”

“The air quotes weren’t necessary,” she informed him with great gravity, though she couldn’t hide the smile on her face as she turned back to the people walking across the street. “Hey, lady, do you want cookies?”

III

“So,” Logan began, then shoved another handful of pretzel sticks into his mouth. “Dating the captain. What’s that like?”

Sirius looked up from his phone and glared. “I am sitting right next to you.”

“Shush. Loops?”

Remus sighed and let his head fall toward Logan’s armchair; he was starting to get lightheaded from laying upside-down for so long, but it was doing wonders for his lower back and sore feet. “Dating the captain? Pretty cool, to be honest.”

Logan made a noise of disagreement. “I don’t believe that for a second. Does he make you run drills in the basement, or is it just a cuddle party all the time? ‘cause there’s no in-between.”

“Tabarnak,” Sirius muttered, flicking Logan’s ear as he headed out of the room. “You two gossip like middle-schoolers.”

“It’s really not bad,” Remus mused as he stretched one leg toward the curtains. “I’m the one who likes running drills, so he’ll usually watch tape while I do that for a bit. Cuddles aren’t as frequent as you might think. We’re boring.”

“Mmm, with some wild nights in there, eh?” Logan wiggled his eyebrows and Remus chucked a pillow at him, though it did not seem to deter him. “I seem to remember hearing a certain conversation about a new bedframe?”

“A headboard,” Remus corrected, pulling a face at him. “And it was already almost ten years old. You’re just jealous.”

“Ugh, for him? Nah. Peanut might have carried a torch—”

“You’re kidding. Did he really?”

“Oh, yeah,” Logan snorted, as if it was obvious. “But he has better taste now. Honestly, though, I’m glad you two are together. And that you’re happy in your boring domesticity, even if you’re breaking beds left and right.”

“Headboard, and it was one time.”

“Did I ever tell you about—”

The front door slammed open; both of them jumped as something heavy hit the ground with a thud. “Sweetheart?” Celeste asked from the living room, audibly concerned. Remus’ heart dropped and he shared a worried look with Logan, who was already on his feet. “Adele, what’s wrong?”

“Adele?” Logan called, his voice laced with worry. Remus’ heartbeat picked up as Adele appeared in the doorway to the living room with tears streaming down her cheeks, only to throw herself into Logan’s arms with a harsh sob. “Woah, hey, qu’est—”

“Boys are so stupid!” she half-shouted, half-wailed. “And I hate them!”

Remus stood there, useless, as she tore away and sprinted for the backyard, yanking the door shut with a bang before tearing across the grass. “Logan?” he asked after a moment. There was no protocol for this. He had absolutely zero experience with preteen breakdowns, and the Dumais kids always fell into Logan and Sirius’ territory. He could count on one hand the number of actual conversations he had had with Adele.

Logan’s nose twitched; he opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat when Sirius came through the doorway and made a beeline for the yard without a single glance to either of them. “She’ll be okay,” Logan murmured as Sirius walked slowly to the swings, where Adele was sitting on the bench seat with her arms wrapped tight around herself.

“She seems pretty upset.”

Logan shook his head, not taking his eyes off the pair. “I’ve got Katie, he’s got Adele.”

“Yeah?” Remus asked, surprised. Logan and Katie were famous for their bond, two peas in a pod. As far as he knew, Sirius was equally close with all the Dumais kids.

“Apparently, they bonded from day one,” Logan said with the flicker of a smile. Outside, Adele laid her head on Sirius’ shoulder and pulled his arm around her back, burrowing into the softness of his hoodie as he gently rocked the swing with his foot and gave her a light squeeze. “They’re both quieter. Oldest children and all that. You really didn’t know?”

“I…” Remus trailed off and shook his head. “You and Katie are much louder about it, but that makes sense. He talks about all of you all the time., I guess I just assumed it was different since he was so closed off at first.”

Logan hummed. “Ask about it sometime. Dumo always likes talking about them.”

Sirius and Adele walked back after a few more minutes, still attached at the hip as Sirius jostled her lightly and pulled half a smile from her; they entered the house in relative quiet and Adele wrapped her arms around him one more time. “Love you,” she said, voice muffled in his sweater. Sirius rubbed her back in slow circles until she pulled away and padded down the hall to the bathroom

“Children are so mean,” he said as soon as the door closed.

“Then I’m glad she has you.” Remus curled his hand around Sirius’ shoulder and felt him relax beneath his touch. “Is she alright?”

“Some little asshole told her nobody would want to date her because she plays hockey.”

Remus’ heart panged. “How can we help?”

“Teach her how to throw a right hook,” Logan suggested. In a rare turn of events, Remus couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not; from the look on his face, it seemed to be the latter.

“She’ll be okay, baby,” Remus said. Sirius didn’t look away from the closed door. “Kids have always been mean, but the best thing you can do is be there for her, which you just did. It’s hard and it sucks but as long as she knows you love her, that’s enough.”

“Does she?” Sirius asked, almost too quiet for him to hear.

Remus looped an arm around his waist and kissed the top of his shoulder. “She does,” he promised. Without a doubt.

IV

Sirius drummed his hands on the steering wheel with a wide smile. “I’m so excited,” he said for the fourth time in twenty minutes.

“I can tell,” Remus said, still reading through his missed messages. The cell service in customs had been abysmal, and for some godforsaken reason his dad desperately needed to send paragraph updates on his hunt for the perfect holiday lights. Some days, Remus wondered whether he was happiest with his family or in Home Depot.

“I missed them.”

“Yep.”

“And I can’t let Logan get there first.”

“Sure thing, honey. Speed limit.”

“Three weeks is a long time, did you know that?”

“Mhmm. Sirius, speed limit.”

“How do you manage being away from Jules for that long?”

“Very poorly,” Remus said as he typed out a quick response to his dad’s latest text. His mother would end him if he allowed their house to be decorated with anything green—in all honesty, he was starting to think she had a personal rivalry with the Snakes. They turned onto Dumo’s street and he felt the excitement radiating off Sirius kick up several notches. “Deep breaths, love.”

“Ah, fuck me, the cubs are right behind us,” he muttered, pulling over to the curb and unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Sirius!” Remus spluttered.

“What?”

“Turn the fucking car off before you get out!”

Sirius heaved a sigh and pulled the key out, then took off toward the house at a jog; Logan went sprinting past the passenger window half a second later, and Remus heard Finn shouting after him from the still-running car to no avail. They reached the front steps at the exact same time, shouldering each other in an attempt to reach the doorbell first.

“—want to push it!” Logan insisted, kicking Sirius lightly on the shin as Remus headed up the walkway.

“You did it last time!” Sirius argued.

“I’m the youngest, so I get to do it!”

“That’s not how it works!”

The door swung open just as Logan tried to bodily shove Sirius out of the way, only to be put in a scrambling headlock. Dumo regarded them with an exhausted look on his face. “Bonjour, Loops.”

“Hey, Dumo,” Remus called from the base of the steps. “Nice night, eh?”

He shrugged, ignoring the two grown men roughhousing on his welcome mat. “Not bad.”

“Are les enfants here?” Logan panted, trying to heave Sirius into the nearest hedge.

Dumo rolled his eyes and opened the door the rest of the way. “Kids, we have visitors!”

Thundering footsteps echoed off the walls; Logan and Sirius tripped over each other in their haste to get inside. “Tremzy!” Katie shrieked, launching herself into his arms with a beaming smile.

Sirius hoisted Adele straight off her feet and shook her back and forth as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. “You were gone forever!” she laughed. “We missed you!”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Logan teased as he set Katie down and opened his arms for a hug of his own. Marc and Louis slammed into him, nearly toppling him in the entryway.

“No, no, no!” Katie giggled as Sirius blew a raspberry kiss on her stomach, only to mimic it on his cheek a moment later. “You’re all scratchy.”

“Tough for kisses,” Remus agreed. “You should tell him to shave, Katie-bird.”

Katie squished his cheeks in her hands with a solemn frown. “No more porcupines.”

“You got it,” Sirius confirmed. “What do you think, Adele?”

She pulled a face and they all dissolved into laughter, exhausted from the long roadie and unable to contain their happiness. It was a tradition Remus was coming to know as he spent more time with the team—Logan and Sirius just couldn’t resist swinging by the Dumais house after a long trip, no matter how drained and battered they were. It was a combination of a competition and a family reunion, and the kids loved it every time.

“Are you staying the night?” Marc asked, lazily tying Sirius’ shoelaces together.

“Not tonight, no.”

“But it would be fun,” Louis said from his place hoisted under Logan’s arm, legs dangling.

“They’re tired, boys, be nice.” Celeste winked at Sirius as he leaned down so she could kiss his cheek before moving to Logan to do the same. “We watched all your games. You were wonderful.”

“Merci, Celeste.” The corners of Logan’s eyes crinkled, and Remus saw Finn and Leo share a smile behind him.

Sirius craned his neck to look back. “Oh, she wasn’t talking to you.”

Logan stuck his tongue out as the kids laughed, still clinging to them both. Remus happily accepted a quick hug and a hair-ruffle from Celeste before she moved on to Finn and Leo, and settled in for a cozy evening at home.

[serpentinearchitect17]

This idea was completely inspired by a story my friend told me recently. She and her husband live in the countryside, and they often have critters wandering around their home. So, I’m putting my own RW&RB spin on it because why not?

Here’s a short, quick look at Henry and Alex’s life after the brownstone.

****

After moving out of the brownstone and into a countryside house in New York, Alex and Henry find themselves with a bit of groundhog problem. There’s a couple - one female and male - who frequently visit their yard. Alex has taken a liking to them, and has started leaving treats for them. Henry, on the other hand, isn’t so thrilled about this development.

On a chilly day in early September, Alex watches the pair of groundhogs from the patio window. There’s a bowl of watermelon out there, and the groundhogs are happily munching on it. Henry wanders in a minute later, wrapping Alex in a warm hug from the back.

Henry: Hello, love.

Alex: *Leans into the hug* Hey, baby.

Henry: *Points to the pair of groundhogs, and tries to be firm, but gentle* You’ve been supplying them with food again. At this rate, they’ll never leave. You know we can’t keep them, right?

Alex: I know, but they’re cute! Just look at them!

Henry: *Melts, but fights desperately to remain firm* I see them, darling, but they will take over our entire yard if we allow this to continue. I nearly tripped into a hole that one of them made the other day.

Alex: *Chews on lip nervously* I’m sorry that you almost got hurt from that. But, we can’t get rid of them because I kind of, uh, named them?

Henry: *Dumbfounded* You named them?

Alex: Yeah, Romeo & Juliet.

Henry: *Raises eyebrow in disbelief* I know that you’re not the biggest fan of classical literature, but Romeo & Juliet is one of the most well known plays in the world. You do realise that love story ends in tragedy, yes? By giving the groundhogs those names, you’ve basically sealed their fate.

Alex: *Gasps* I didn’t even think about that! I just thought they were cute, and that it’d be awesome to name them after a famous couple. *Points to them* Look, the female is even wiping watermelon juice off her partner’s face! Like, that’s real love, sweetheart.

Henry: *Sighs, knowing he’s going to lose this argument* If you’re going to name them, at least pick a couple that has a happy ending, like Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.

Alex: *Groans* Pride and Prejudice again? Can’t you literally pick anything else?

Henry: Hey, you selected two names from a tragedy! Who’s actually the ridiculous here?

Alex: *Grins* Well, you just suggested some names, so I’m gonna guess that they’re growing on you. Does this mean you’re gonna let them stay?

Henry: *Rubs his face in exasperation* I’m positive I’m going to regret this, but as for now, I will not call anyone to remove them. They can…stay.

Alex: *Turns to kiss Henry* You’re the best, Hen. I’m sure R & J will appreciate it.

Henry: We are naming them something else!

Alex: Sure, whatever you want, baby.

Six months later…

Henry stomps around the yard, almost tripping and falling into another groundhog hole. Now, there are even more holes because Elizabeth and Darcy have four little pups to look after. They’ve decided to make this yard their permanent home.

Henry: *Shouts loud enough for Alex to hear* ALEX! Do something with this bloody yard! Your groundhogs are going to be the death of me, I swear!

Alex: *Opens the sliding glass patio door and laughs* Don’t you mean our groundhogs? You named them, after all.

Henry: *Flustered* You are a demon, you know that?

Alex: *Continues to laugh, but goes outside with a shovel in hand to fix some of the holes of in yard* I love you, too, sweetheart.

****

Yes, my friend seriously named her groundhogs Romeo and Juliet 😂 Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this ridiculous tale!

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - XII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 6,600+

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse

Previously on…

6 MONTHS LATER...

Dick threw his small duffle over his shoulder as he looked around at his surroundings.

It sure was beautiful.

The complicated and long journey to get there was definitely worth it.

Dick figured out his surroundings before starting to walk.

There weren’t many people he passed, even when he got close to the town. But ones he did, they all stared, immediately recognizing him as a tourist. The place was too isolated for people to be passing through frequently.

Dick used that infamous Wayne charm to give polite smiles and nods to the townsfolk who gawked at him.

An hour later, Dick was at the bottom of a small hill, outside the fence of a bright yellow house. On the other side of him was water – the Norwegian sea.

The air was crisp and fresh, and Dick’s lungs seemed to thank him every time he took in a deep breath.

He was lost in the scenery when she appeared at the top of the hill.

Dick noticed her before she noticed him.

But when she was just a few yards from her house, she finally raised her head and spotted him.

Y/N froze for a moment, convinced she was seeing things.

But then her face broke into the brightest smile and she was running to him.

Dick caught her in his arms and spun her around, laughing at her excitement. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked after he let her go.

“What do you think?” He chuckled.

Her smile faded slowly, and it was replaced with a contemplative look.

“Come inside,” she told him quietly.

Dick watched as she moved around the small kitchen and made them coffee.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“I’m surprised it took you so long to find me,” Y/N admitted shyly as she grabbed two bright red mugs from a cabinet.

“Well, it didn’t,” he looked a little bashful at the confession. “I found your location a couple days after I got your letter.”

Y/N stopped moving for a second.

“Oh,” she slipped out in surprise. “Did Bruce tell you?”

Dick shook his head. “No. I didn’t ask and he didn’t offer up that info.” He took in a deep breath. “I think he wanted to make sure I worked for it.”

Y/N nodded slowly. 

But it was clear that the mentioning of Bruce wasn’t making her feel all that great.

“I’m sorry he never came,” Dick told her softly.

“Why?” She challenged.

After all, wasn’t Bruce his competition?

“I waited to come find you because I didn’t want to mess up what you were trying to make here,” Dick admitted.

“You could never mess anything up, Dick.” Y/N poured coffee into both of the mugs and sat across from him at the tiny kitchen table. “I was the one always messing everything up.”

“That’s not true.”

But from her face, Dick could tell she was unconvinced.

“Why Norway?” He asked, trying to change the subject.

Y/N shrugged with a little smirk as she looked out the window that showed the sea just outside her door.

“I always wanted to visit. Just never got around to it.”

“What have you been doing?” He asked, surprised to see not even so much as a laptop sitting around.

It was strange to imagine her living without a dozen computer screens surrounding her.

“I work at the preschool. And I help on one of the farms nearby on the weekends sometimes.”

Dick smiled at the thought.

“What?” She pressed.

“Nothing. Just the world’s smartest and most badass hacker working on a farm.”

Y/N shrugged and laughed. “It’s relaxing.”

“I’m sure.”

“I’ve made friends.”

“Friends?” Dick repeated melodramatically to tease her.

“Shut up,” she laughed as she punched his shoulder. “Yes, I have friends. And get this…I go to therapy now.”

Dick smiled proudly at her. “Therapy, huh?”

“Yep. I talk about my feelings and everything,” she laughed.

His smile dropped a bit and he cleared his throat. “I’m proud of you, Y/N. Really. I am.”

Y/N winced at his sincerity a bit. She was never one to take compliments well. 

And before she could stop herself or hesitate, she stood from her chair and moved to Dick’s lap, hugging him.

“I’ve missed you, Dick.” She mumbled into his neck as he held her tightly and rubbed her back.

“I’ve missed you more,” he muttered.

Y/N pulled back to look at him. “Not possible.”

A single tear had escaped from her left eye. 

Dick gently wiped it away.

“Hey, none of that,” he whispered.

“How long are you staying?” She asked him.

“Just two days.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s it? You traveled all this way just for two days?”

Dick Grayson was a romantic. 

His face turned serious. “I was serious about not wanting to mess up what you have going on here. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright.”

“I’m doing great,” she clarified.

He smiled. “I know. I can see that.”

“OK. Well…want to go to the pub with me tonight? You can meet my friends and get to see the town.”

Dick didn’t know why she bothered to phrase it as a question. Surely she knew by now that he was going to go anywhere she would.

But he nodded anyway.

——

Dick sat back and watched Y/N interact with the locals. They seemed to have taken her in as their own. He couldn’t help but wonder how they’d react if she were to ever leave. Surely she didn’t intend on staying here forever. Or maybe she did.

But he was surprised when she introduced him to a few of her new friends and their eyes widened with joy at hearing his name.

“Oh, you are Dick? We’ve heard so much about you!”

“We didn’t know you were coming to visit!”

“Come! Come! Let us buy you a drink!”

Dick tried not to blush when they all seemed to know who he was already.

Y/N sang along to songs with them and danced with anyone who asked her.

Dick had never seen her like this. She seemed to be glowing.

“Come on, Dick!” Y/N suddenly grabbed his attention. “Come dance with me!”

He laughed as he did as she requested, and let her spin him in too many circles.

-

A couple hours later, they were walking home.

They were both happily buzzed, but were by no means drunk.

Y/N wrapped her arm around Dick and leaned into him the whole walk.

When they were just outside her house’s gate, Y/N stopped them. 

“Look how bright the stars are here!” She exclaimed quietly as she tilted her head up to look at the sky.

Dick was instantly thrown back to that night, laying on the ground of Wayne Manor and looking at the smoggy sky of Gotham. The stars seemed so bright to her then and now she was amazed at how bright the Norwegian sky was.

Y/N realized Dick hadn’t tilted his head back.

“You’re not looking!” She accused before shifting her gaze to him.

When she did, she found that he was staring at her.

“What?” She whispered.

“I wasn’t completely honest about why I came here,” Dick confessed.

She tilted her head questioningly. 

“I mean, yes, I did want to check on you. But there’s more to it than that...”

Y/N had untangled herself from him now and turned to look at him.

“I know things have always been…complicated. And I know you loved – or love Bruce. I don’t know. But I just…I needed to tell you this.”

Dick took in a deep breath. “I’m gonna wait for you.”

“Dick…” Y/N exhaled in surprise.

“Wait. Please…let me finish.”

She did.

“I’m gonna wait for you. And you take as long as you need. I mean it. I know you think that I don’t know how to be alone…but I’ll wait for you as long as I have to.”

Y/N stayed quiet.

“Unless it’s Bruce. Then I’ll–”

“It’s not Bruce,” she quickly cut him off.

Y/N stepped forward and softly captured Dick’s face in her hands.  

“It’s you, Dick.”

And before he could ask her if she was messing with him, her lips collided with his. It took him a second to react and kiss her back. But when he finally did, it was with everything he possibly had.

When Y/N pulled away, she stared into his eyes and took his hand, guiding him into the house.

As soon as the door shut behind them, she started kissing him again.

She tugged at his belt and became frustrated with the amount of buttons on his flannel. Dick would’ve been more helpful if he wasn’t so preoccupied with taking off her clothes. He seemed to be doing much better than she was.

Once they were both in their undergarments, Y/N dragged Dick to her bedroom, giggling when he tripped over the edge of her couch on the way.

It wasn’t until Y/N’s thumbs slipped under the elastic of his boxer briefs that Dick stopped them.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he breathed as he paused their kissing and grabbed her wrists.

“What?” Y/N gasped, worried that she’d read all of this wrong.

“I just…Are you sure?” Dick asked quietly.

Y/N couldn’t help herself, but she started giggling.

“Oh, come on,” Dick groaned in embarrassment, pressing his forehead into her shoulder.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” Y/N said as she controlled her amusement. “It’s just…you’re too sweet for this world, Richard Grayson.”

He rolled his eyes.

But Y/N’s smile softened as she stared into his eyes. “I love you. You love me. And that’s all I care about right now.”

Dick just stared at her in awe.

“OK?” She asked.

Dick nodded quickly, so desperate not to mess this up.

“OK,” he agreed before kissing her again.

——————

It was the dinging of the buoy bells and the sound of soft waves that woke Dick up. 

Maybe it was the unusual soundscape. He was so used to the sounds of cities that this was triggered as unusual in his mind.

Dick opened his eyes and his mind slowly reminded him where he was.

Y/N was asleep on his chest, held in his arms.

He smiled at the feeling of her naked skin against his.

It was going to be harder to leave than he original anticipated.

Dick tried to untangle their bodies, waking Y/N up in the process.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered to her. “I’m going to make us some coffee and breakfast.”

“Don’t bother,” Y/N mumbled sleepily. “I don’t have any food.”

“Stay,” she added in a whine. “You’re so warm.”

Dick chuckled. “I know you have coffee, Y/N.”

“I do,” she hummed with a mischievous smile, eyes still closed. “But I want you to stay in bed.”

“I promise I’ll be right back,” he whispered to her before kissing the top of her head.

She finally allowed him to leave.

Dick quickly put on his underwear and got to the kitchen, trying to be quiet as he shuffled around to find everything to make coffee.

When he returned to bed it was with two filled mugs.

Y/N had rolled onto her stomach, her face buried in Dick’s pillow.

Her shoulders and upper back were exposed as she slept.

Dick paused and allowed himself to take in the scene before him.

He’d spent so much time dreaming of having such bliss. And now it sat before him as a reality. It felt too good to be true.

He sat on the very edge of the bed, putting both mugs on the nightstand beside him.

Dick bent down to place a trail of kisses up Y/N’s spine and then to her shoulder.

She hummed at the feeling.

“Come on. Wake up,” Dick whispered in her ear.

Y/N slowly woke up, and pulled the sheet to her chest as she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“You know…you’re very adorable when you first wake up,” Dick told her with a smirk.

“Oh, shut it,” Y/N warned him as she grabbed for one of the mugs.

Dick allowed her one sip before he pressed his lips to hers.

“Morning,” Y/N smiled after.

“Good morning,” he huffed a laugh.

She sighed. “What would you like to do today, Mr. Grayson?”

“I really don’t care,” Dick admitted.

He wanted to say, ‘As long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter.’ But he knew it would come out cheesy and she’d only laugh at him. So he saved the thought for himself.

“How about a hike?” She offered.

“A hike sounds perfect.”

She tilted her head. “Maybe a shower first?”

“Shower first,” he confirmed. “Would be even better if it was together.”

Y/N threw her head back in a laugh. “I’ll allow it.”

A hike did turn out to be perfect.

Y/N pointed out landmarks or the property of friends. 

And then she’d ask Dick about his life back home. And she asked about his brothers – to which he gave great detail about each.

But it didn’t go past Dick that she hadn’t asked about Bruce.

They’d finally reached the top of their goal peak.

They were both breathing heavily. It was by no means an easy hike.

“Do you miss him?” Dick finally had the courage to ask.

Y/N shrugged, but wouldn’t look at him. “Of course I do.”

“Be honest. Were you expecting him to find you?”

“No,” she answered truly. “I knew he wouldn’t.”

Dick didn’t know how to respond to that.

“But I think the worst part was that I was so okay with that,” Y/N admitted.

Then she sighed.

“Obviously I’ve had a lot of time to think about…everything. Me and him…we would be terrible for each other, Dick. I don’t know how to read his mind. And he doesn’t know how to talk to me. We’re both so stubborn and so bad at communicating. We would’ve just grown to resent one another.”

Y/N took in a shaky breath and exhaled. “And once I realized that, I was terrified that I’d completely fucked things up with you – and that I’d hurt your relationship with him.”

“You didn’t, Y/N.” Dick tried to reassure her.

“Things would be so bad between him and me. Then there would be one single moment of good…and I’d hold onto it for dear life,” Y/N added. “And I realized that would be our whole relationship.”

Dick nodded in understanding.

He knew she was absolutely right, and it had been his biggest fear for them.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly apologized. “I shouldn’t talk about him with you like this.”

“Don’t apologize.”

Dick wrapped his arm around her as they looked at the view together.

“Come on,” he told her. “We should get back soon. I have to catch a boat.”

She nodded.

——

The walk to the boat went by far too quickly for both of them. And their goodbye had arrived too soon.

Dick held Y/N in his arms on the dock.

When they pulled away he saw that Y/N’s eyes had filled with tears.

“Why do you have to go?” She muttered, clearly trying not to cry.

“You know all I want is to stay with you. But you said it yourself: you gotta figure stuff out. And I don’t want to be the one that gets in the way of that.”

He kissed her slowly.

“I wasn’t lying when I promised that I’d wait as long as I needed to, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“You take as long as you need, hear me?”

She nodded quickly.

“But I gotta go now.”

Dick gave one final and abrupt kiss before rushing away and jumping onto the boat. 

He knew if he lingered, even a second, he might not be able to leave her.

He wouldn’t even let himself look back at her as the boat started to drift away. Because even then he was at risk of jumping off and swimming back to her.  

——————————

9 MONTHS LATER…

“Seriously, Jaybird?” Dick asked as he held his cellphone to one hear and the steering wheel with the other.

He turned to Y/N, who sat in the passenger seat. “He says he’s not coming.”

“Gimme,” she muttered impatiently as she held out her hand.

Dick passed her the phone.

“What the fuck has you so busy that you can’t have a family dinner?”

Dick chuckled at his girlfriend’s sass.

“Jason, I haven’t seen you in over a year! Please? For me?”

Dick immediately heard the tone in her voice that always brought him to his knees – and she already had him wrapped around her finger. He wondered if Jason was immune to it.

But when he saw Y/N start smiling widely, he knew his brother was no stronger than him.

“Can’t wait to see you!” Y/N sang before hanging up.

The car went silent then. The only sound being the commercials on the radio.

“Is this going to be weird?” Y/N suddenly asked quietly as she stared out the passenger window.

“No,” Dick answered confidently.

She turned to look at him. “Sure?”

“No one is better than Bruce Wayne when it comes to pretending everything is alright. Trust me.” Then he sighed sadly. “Plus, Damian texted earlier and said there was last minute Justice League business. I doubt he’ll be back by dinner.”

“Sorry,” Y/N told him softly as she grabbed his right hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles. “I know you’ve missed him.”

Dick had been jumping from place to place for the past year and a half that even when he was in Gotham, he barely had time to see Bruce. It was always in passing.

“It’s fine.”

When they pulled up to Wayne Manor, Dick barely closed the car door before Damian was tackling him into a hug.

“Hey, Damian,” Dick chuckled softly at the boy.

Y/N smiled at the interaction and walked to the door to find Alfred waiting patiently with a smile.

“Hello, Alfred.”

“Ms. Y/L/N,” he bowed his head slightly.

“Alfred, we’ve been over this…” she warned playfully.

“A hard habit to break, Y/N.” He answered with a wink. “Welcome back.”

“Jason will be late,” she told him before hugging him hello.

“Master Wayne had another engagement,” Alfred said to Dick as he walked up with Damian glued to his side.

“Damian gave me the heads up,” Dick answered before hugging Alfred, too.

Damian gave a rushed side hug to Y/N as if he was embarrassed to show her any sort of affection and then ran away.

Dick and Y/N laughed at the gesture.

“Mr. Clark and Ms. Brown are here, as well.” Alfred informed them.

Y/N gave Dick a questioning look.

“Superman’s son and Tim’s girlfriend,” he explained.

“Ahh.”

Jason did end up coming to dinner – late as usual.

But he made up for it by wrapping Y/N in a giant bear hug and lifting her off her feet.

“Easy, punk!” Dick warned protectively as he heard his girlfriend shriek in surprise. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Jason shooed.

This particular meal went off rather differently than Y/N’s first Wayne family dinner.

It probably helped that Damian was distracted with his best friend, Jonathan – who was the sweetest little boy Y/N had ever met. And Tim kept having a quiet conversation with his girlfriend, Stephanie – who was a social butterfly and asked Y/N about a million questions before dessert.

Jason claimed to only have come for a free meal and to ask Y/N why she was dating such a loser.

After dinner, Y/N convinced everyone to have a game night in the family room. Jason blasted some music. And everyone – to no surprise – got way too competitive with each other.

Y/N found it amusing to see Dick’s brother interacting with their own friends or significant others. Tim looked absolutely love stricken every time he looked at Stephanie. And even though Jon and Damian seemed like total opposites, Y/N could see that Damian really did enjoy the boy’s company.

“How did you not get The Searchers?” Jon groaned at Damian, but he clearly wasn’t actually mad or upset at the loss.

Y/N laughed at the boy. “Jon, how the hell do you even know that movie? It’s form the ‘50s.”

“Me and my dad watch westerns every Friday night,” he beamed proudly.

“I have better things to do than watch movies all the time,” Damian mumbled.

Y/N turned to Dick, who had her locked onto his lap with his arms.

“You gotta let me go,” she muttered to him with amusement. “It’s our turn.”

Dick did as she asked, but not before giving her a quick kiss.

“Eww!” Damian screamed.

“They’re in love! Leave them alone,” Stephanie reprimanded Damian, and looked at the couple – almost with admiration.

“Damian and Jon only got three in their round,” Jason announced just before he started the timer. “You two idiots ready?”

Y/N nodded and bounced on her feet in excitement.

Her and Dick ended up doing better than the younger boys. But they only got 5 right in the time limit and that was not good enough for Y/N.

“Can you please watch more movies?” Y/N moaned. “Or I’m going to partner with Jason next time.”

“Who knew pop culture was gonna be the thing that broke the two of you up…” Jason snickered.

Dick punched him in the arm before he pulled Y/N back down onto his lap against her will.

“You sure you wanna threaten me?” Dick asked before tickling her.

“I’m a winner. And you are becoming our weakest link!” Y/N managed to say through her laughter.

Even with the room filled with nothing but joyful chaos, a thought was nagging away at Y/N’s mind the whole night. She couldn’t ignore the disappointment of Bruce being absent. Dick knew she missed him – and he couldn’t acknowledge that without also feeling jealous.

Y/N just wanted to know how Bruce was doing.

But she also wanted to make sure there was no water under the bridge.

Yes, Bruce could go on living without ever clearing the air between the two of them. But Y/N couldn’t. She wasn’t that person anymore.

She was dating Dick now, who was basically his son – no matter how much they all tried to ignore that. 

Just went Jason was about to partner with Stephanie, there was a throat clearing in the doorway of the family room.

Y/N looked up to see not only Bruce, but also Clark Kent standing in the doorway, watching all of them.

Or should she say Superman? Because he was still in his uniform.

“Hi, dad!” Jon smiled.

Clark smiled at the chaos before him. “I see you’re having fun with the Waynes.”

“Dad, can I sleep over tonight? Pretty please?” Jon whined.

“Yes, father. May he?” Damian urged to Bruce.

Clark and Bruce shared a look.

Y/N had to hide her amusement at the tired-dad role she was seeing Bruce fill. It never failed to surprise her.

Clark sighed, clearly sad he was about to disappoint his son. “I promised your mom that I’d bring you home tonight. Another time, alright?”

Jon’s head lowered in disappointment. But he didn’t fight his father on the decision.

He got up to walk to him.

“What do you say?” Clark asked.

Jon turned to Bruce. “Thank you for having me over, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce smirked at the boy. “You’re welcome any time, Jonathan.”

Jon turned to wave bye to the rest of them. But then his eyes widened when he got to Y/N.

“Oh!” The boy practically yelped and skipped to where Y/N sat on the couch.

She was taken by surprise when the boy wrapped her into a hug.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” Jon hummed with a smile. Then he turned to his father. “Dad! This is Y/N.”

She stood up when Clark walked to her. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

Clark reached his hand out. Clearly Jonathan got his manners from his father.

“Clark,” he introduced. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Y/N turned to eye Dick for that.

“Oh, not from that one,” Clark clarified with a smile and then nudged his head in Bruce’s direction, who was still standing in the doorway.

Y/N blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly.

“I hope they weren’t too much to handle,” Clark commented with a wince, knowing that Dick and her were probably supervising the kids the most.

“Not at all,” Y/N said. “Jonathan is better behaved than any of these monsters…”

“Hey!” Dick and Jason called out in unison.

Clark chuckled.

Then he looked down at his son. “Come on, Jonathan. Time to go.”

Y/N peaked through a window as the two of them walked outside and took off into the sky. 

A second later, she heard the sonic boom.

When she turned back to the room, no one seemed to have watched their exit like she had. They hardly noticed people’s inhuman abilities anymore.

“You guys are way too used to that…” Y/N mumbled.

Jason laughed lightly at her amazement. “You should ask Bruce about the first time Dick met Clark.”

“Absolutely not,” Dick immediately shut down.

But when Y/N looked up to ask Bruce to elaborate, he had already disappeared from the room.

Maybe her being here wasn’t as easy for him as she had expected. But that was so hard for Y/N to believe.

“He was his biggest fan,” Jason continued as Dick tried to tackle him into silence. “He asked for his autograph like a fuckin’ nerd.”

Y/N shook her head at the two of them. “Aww…cute little baby Richard.”

Before she could ask more questions, Damian tugged on her hand and pulled her out of the room.

Dick didn’t call after them, too relieved to get away from his past childhood obsession with Superman.

“Where are we going?” She asked Damian with a laugh.

The boy tugged her harder, clearly annoyed by how slow she was moving.

“I wish to show you something.” Then he hesitated before adding, “It’s a secret.”

When they got to his room, Damian double checked the hallway before closing his bedroom door behind them.

He walked to his giant, walk-in closet.

When he opened the door, Y/N knew exactly what he was hiding.

There was a litter of kittens and their mother in a large cardboard that had food, water, and toys for them.

“Damian…” Y/N cooed at the sight of them.

“I found them on patrol a week ago. It was raining and they were freezing cold. Father and Pennyworth don’t know.”

She arched an eyebrow. There was no chance that they didn’t know. Bruce was aware of everything that happened in this household.

“You can hold them,” Damian offered as he held a kitten up to her.

It warmed her heart. And she took the kitten out of his grip.

She watched as Damian played with them and their mother, who seemed to be alright with this new human touching her babies.

“How’s your father doing, Damian?” Y/N asked carefully after awhile.

He shrugged. “Fine, I suppose. Though I think he was rather sad when you left.”

Y/N hummed.

She was surprised that such a thing could be perceived by Damian. It had to have been rather obvious for him to notice. 

But this was most likely all she’d get from the boy.

“I see Grayson is quite happy,” Damian added.

“Think so?”

He nodded.

“I liked Jon. He’s a little cutie.”

“Yuck. He’s my friend.”

Y/N laughed. “You know, I think you’re a little cutie, too. But I would never tell anyone that. I know you’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Damian glared at her.

But the look just caused Y/N to laugh more.

“Maybe I can convince them to let you keep all of ‘em,” she told him.

His head whipped up to from the kittens to her, surprised by her offer.

“You would do that?” He asked.

“Yeah. I just don’t know how much power I have...”

“More than you think…” Damian mumbled.

“What?”

“I think he still loves you,” the boy said as he looked down at the kittens.

“I’m not so sure. After all, he didn’t seem to even want to talk to me.”

“He doesn’t know how to behave around you and Grayson. He’s scared to get in between the two of you.”

Her brow furrowed. “How do you know that?”

“A couple nights ago, I overheard father and Pennyworth talking about you visiting. Father thought it was best to keep his distance.”  

“Overheard or eavesdropped?” She challenged.

Damian smirked mischievously.

“We should probably get back before everyone get’s suspicious. I don’t want to expose your secret,” Y/N finally told him.

The boy nodded in agreement.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed back.

——————

Dick and Y/N had already planned to stay the night at the manor.

The two of them stayed in Dick’s bedroom, which only got Y/N to make a dozen jokes about sleeping together in his childhood room.

But the fun ended there.

While Dick quickly fell asleep, Y/N laid wide awake.

She went over her conversation with Damian again and again.

Was Bruce really that worried about her visiting?

After failing at going to sleep for hours, Y/N finally gave up.

She started getting out of bed.

“You OK?” Dick mumbled, her movement instantly waking him up.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just gonna go get some water from the kitchen,” she told him quietly. “Go back to sleep,” she urged before kissing his cheek.

It was a bit of a white lie.

Y/N was going to find Bruce.

However, she expected to have to trek all the way down to the cave.

Imagine her surprise when there was a slit of light leaking from the office.

Y/N froze, realizing her moment of confrontation was coming much sooner than she’d expected.

Her inhale was shaky the second before she slipped into the room.

Bruce immediately sensed a new presence and looked up from the computer.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted quietly.

Her body language screamed how uncomfortable she was.

But Y/N knew she had to stop running away from the hard questions.

What was the point of going to therapy if she wasn’t going to use the resources and advice to improve her life?

Bruce straightened in his seat, almost as if he’d been caught.

“Hi,” he replied softly.

His eyes held a smile that didn’t reach his lips.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked her.

Y/N nodded and crossed her arms.

But she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out, “I’m sorry if it’s hard – me being here, I mean.”

Then she blinked and her eyes widened, fully processing what she just said. 

“Or maybe it’s not hard at all and I’m completely projecting,” she added quickly.

Y/N cringed at her mess of a mind and inability to actually communicate what she wanted to say.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Bruce assured her before she could panic any further.

He slowly stood from his desk and walked out from behind it.

Y/N was a bit caught off guard by how close he stood to her, arms crossed and radiating poise.

She was so used to him keeping a distance – literally and figuratively.

“I’m glad you and Dick came to visit,” Bruce shared.

Y/N nodded.

Of course he would say that. It was the polite thing to do. And Bruce Wayne was raised to be polite, if nothing else.  

An awkward silence settled.

“It is hard, you being here,” Bruce finally confessed.

Y/N was caught off guard by the honesty.

“I shouldn’t have kept the two of you apart,” he told her tenderly.

“It wasn’t just you, Bruce. I kept pushing him away,” she tried to defend.

Bruce shook his head. “But you wouldn’t have done that if it were not for me.”

Y/N took in a deep breath. “I’m glad you didn’t come find me.”

It was like they could both feel the gravity of the conversation drop.

“I needed time and space to see our relationship without,” she hesitated, “without being distracted by wanting you to want me.”

She shook her head at her own racing thoughts. “We would’ve been terrible for each other, Bruce.”

His instinct was to tell her that he disagreed.

But that was only because she saw the truth before him, and it made a part of him bitter – bitter that she wasn’t scared of it the same way he clearly was.

So Bruce’s silence said more than any words.

“I finally understood that the issue was never you not being able to find the right person. It was you never finding the person who would make you give up everything else.” Her head bowed in defeat. “And it just…it fucking sucked to realize that wasn’t going to be me. But I had to realize it at some point.”

Bruce cleared his throat. It was more to hold back his emotions than anything else.

“After everything, does it even mean anything when I say that I will always be sorry for what I did to you?” He asked her faintly.

She gave him a sad smile and bowed her head, “It does.”

Her smile brightened. 

“Bruce, I really love him,” she whispered.

It was desperate and almost frightened, like she was scared saying it aloud would ruin the whole thing and Dick would disappear.

“I promise…he loves you even more.”

Once again, Y/N was taken aback by Bruce’s words.

But it was the truth.

From the short time Bruce had been in the room with Clark, he was hit with the absolute infatuation Dick had for her. Bruce noticed the way Dick looked at her, how his body was always facing her direction, and the love-sick sparkle in his eyes. 

It had made Bruce wonder, ‘Could I have ever loved her that way?’

And he knew it was the what Y/N deserved.

“I won’t allow my mistakes to be the thing that keeps you two away,” Bruce finally disclosed. “I want the two of you to be happy.”

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, trying to stop her voice from shaking.

Y/N faltered before she asked, “Are you gonna be OK, Bruce?”

He nodded. “Always am.”

She laughed lightly at his answer. “No, you aren’t. You’re just way too good at hiding it. And that’s why I worry.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Y/N.”

“Well, I’m going to.”

Bruce gave her a shy smirk. “I will be fine.”

Y/N gave a stiff nod. That was as good as she was going to get.

“I should try to get some sleep,” she told him with a shrug.

He nodded. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

With that, she walked slowly out of the office and left him.

Tiptoeing back into the bedroom, Y/N got back into bed and nuzzled close to Dick.

He pulled her into his arms without opening his eyes.

“Hi,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Hi,” she whispered back.

She brushed some hair off his face and took in the sight of him sleeping.

They had officially been together as a couple for the past six months, bouncing around the country together.

Dick had done what he promised and gave Y/N her space.

She ended up staying in Norway for a year, spending 6 more months there after Dick had visited.

It was a real testament to Dick’s self control, the way he stopped himself from texting and calling her every day. He managed to keep it to a single text, once a week. He’d always kept it light, using it more as a check-in to make sure she was doing OK and staying safe.

Now Y/N looked at him as her boyfriend.

Someone she’d never had in her life before.

It was definitely a learning curve for her. But Dick was patient. More patient than Y/N believed she deserved. But that was something she had to work on still, too.

Dick was nothing but loving and gentle with Y/N. He made her laugh and smile – sometimes at his own expense. He taught Y/N that relationships could be filled with fun and jokes. They didn’t always have to be weighed down by tension and uncertainty. 

And even though Y/N didn’t understand it or agree, Dick still saw himself as the lucky one.

“I love you, Dick,” she finally breathed as she brushed his cheekbone with his thumb.

“I love you, too.” He mumbled back.

And she had no idea if he was talking in his sleep or not. 

Regardless, it was absolutely adorable.

————

Dick was a product of Bruce’s bad habits, often waking up early even when he was disturbingly sleep deprived.

When he walked into the manor’s kitchen the next morning, only Bruce was occupying the room. Alfred was probably working in the gardens.

“Morning,” Dick greeted as he poured himself coffee.

“Heading out early?” Bruce asked.

Dick shook his head. “Y/N didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. So I wanted to let her sleep in as much as she wants. Then we’ll probably head out.”

“Where to?”

Dick shrugged, “San Francisco.”

Bruce just nodded in interest.

“I can feel a lecture coming on…” Dick pointed out before he quirked an eyebrow and took a sip of coffee.

Bruce moved in his seat. “Don’t ruin this, Dick.”

Dick couldn’t help but smirk. “You do understand how ironic that is coming from you, right?”

Bruce sighed, but it was his equivalent of rolling one’s eyes.

“She talk to you last night?” Dick asked.

As soon as Y/N had come back to bed, he knew that’s where she’d been.

“She did,” Bruce confirmed.

Dick shifted his weight.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Bruce said with a smirk. His amusement only earned him a glare from Dick. “She chose you, Dick. And I’m not going to do anything to hurt either of you.”

Dick knew there was nothing but sincerity behind Bruce’s words.

But he also spent most of his life comparing himself to Bruce. This was the first time he’d ever done so with women or love or even sex. It would take a bit more effort to get over it like he had with his other insecurities.

“I know,” Dick finally said quietly.

———————

A few hours later, Y/N had woken up, showered, and gotten her things together.

Dick and her had said their goodbyes to the boys and Alfred.

Just as they were at the door, Y/N noticed Bruce leaning against the wall, watching them leave.

“Go,” Dick urged her quietly when he saw her hesitate. “I’ve already said my goodbyes.”

Y/N’s fingers fidgeted as she slowly walked to Bruce.

“Guess this is goodbye,” she laughed awkwardly.

“Guess so,” he offered with a sad smile.

‘Fuck it,’ she thought before wrapping him in a hug.

“Keep in touch with him, please. He misses you more than you think,” she whispered into his shoulder.

“You let me know if he gives you trouble,” he answered seriously.

But Y/N pulled away with a laugh. “We both know he would never.”

She took a step back. “Bye, Bruce.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

And then she was gone.

Bruce watched them leave through the windows.

When Y/N got into the car, Dick reached over with his hand and gave her a sympathetic look. “You OK?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed before kissing him.

“We got a long drive ahead of us,” Dick sighed.

Y/N smiled. “Yeah, but it’ll be fun.”

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

THE END

I just wanted to thank everyone who commented or messaged me about this story. I don’t know if I’ve ever written a story this quickly before. And it was honestly because I felt like people were reading it and they cared. I haven’t had that experience for quite some time. So thank you. 

Let me know how you’re feeling and what you thought!!!

If you’ve been reading this and not commenting/messaging me, or you’ve waited until I finished writing the whole series so you can read it in on sitting and not engage at all... we’re not friends. 

LOL. 

[sireniana]

More healed AU please?

Heck yeah let's go!!

-Alcina-

-Her daughters discover malls and the internet. She's totally doomed.

-Her new abode is a lovely yellow mansion on one of many low sloping hills. Her favorite thing to do is walk through the grape arbors as the sun sets and enjoy this strange new freedom.

-Since they aren't allowed human blood, she sets her daughters to the task of eliminating the pests that plague her grapes. When people visit unexpectedly they think Alcina has a bunch of cats. The girls like to leave "gifts" just to bug her.

-Absolutely a neat freak. Will randomly grap servants and lift them up to show them a dusty surface they missed.

-Spoils and scolds her daughters in turn, as tough as she tries to be on them they inevitably get away with several war crimes.

-Donna-

-Eventually she gets the courage to open a little arts and crafts store, since even though her Etsy was monetarily profitable, she was still very alone.

-Pretends Angie's her ventriloquist dummy while she's working, people stare a little but her wares are top quality so they don't mind too much.

-Her scar does disturb people a bit, but one day when she's very low someone tells her it "looks badass". She can't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

-Has on the phone spa days with Alcina where they paint their nails and lovingly harass each othet for "not getting out more".

-Once she realizes you can paint whole rooms their is no stopping her, ever room in her house changes color so frequently most people wouldn't recognize it a week after they saw it.

-Admittedly most rooms are various shades of purple but no one could ever guess her favorite color. Right?

-Moreau-

-Has a love hate relationship with large bodies of water now. He's loved them since he first toddled into the ocean, but there's.... less positive memories associated with them now.

-Constantly paranoid that he's going to change back at any minute, feels peoples eyes on him constantly.

-On a happier note, he gets to see musicals! Live!

-He goes to every performance for every show within driving distance (and he's not above driving several hours).

-Starts, eventually, working as a doctor again. It'll take a long time though. Trust, especially self-trust, is easily shattered and not so easy to repair.

-Enjoys the little things the most. Humming without choking on his bile, walking around without stares, ordering food from someone other than the Duke! He's over the moon for life.

-Heisenburg-

-Practically lives in junk yards. I don't know if stealing from them is illegal, but he could NOT care less.

-Prep talks younger mechanics in a supposedly threatening way, but he comes off as a gruff dad who's not-so-secretly proud of you.

-Makes giant coffee makers with unnecessary features "Of course it needs to be able to bissect someone in half with a hot stream if coffee, what if my enemy wants a cup o' joe?"

-Watches those "making fictional tech real" Youtube videos all the time and critiques people methods in the comments to the point that he's been banned on several occasions.

-Very perturbed by the idea of a bed, since he just falls asleep wherever his body decides. Makes side eyes at it as he passes out on the floor again.

[y0itsbri]

Hi Bri 🥰

C-16 if you'd like to 👀

Coffee dates and disasters

au with college!lip and barista!mandy where ian is a frequent visitor at the campus café and meets mickey under rather unfortunate circumstances. don't cry over spilled milk, buddy.

which also fits under a.u.gust for @gallavichthings

words: 2.4k

"never would have thought you the type to come to one of these places," ian mused, looking around the small café with only lamps and string lights illuminating the space. "can't believe college changed you, man," ian clutched at his heart dramatically.

"don't worry. 'm still the annoying bastard you love so dearly," lip squeezed ian's shoulder before he sauntered up to the counter.

the barista's bored expressed brightened when she saw them. her perky demeanor was matched by a high pitched voice, "hey lip," she smiled, dark lipstick striking. she appraised ian with a somewhat predatory eye, "hello, lip's friend."

"uh, brother," ian coughed.

lip rolled his eyes, "and he's gay so don't even try it, mandy."

she pouted and flicked her hair behind her shoulder, "not that it's any of your business, anyways."

ian chuckled besides him, drawing another smile out of mandy, this one kinder, sweeter.

"what can i get you boys?"

the pink highlights glistened in her dark hair as she whipped up lip's cold brew and ian's caramel macchiato, then proceeded to insist that this one is on the house. neither of them argued, but thanked her before they settled down in some stools by the window.

"fucking the barista privileges?" ian asked, raising his eyebrow at his slut of a brother.

"i think of it more like fellow south sider charity," he rubbed his bottom lip, "but yours works too," lip smirked around the edges of his coffee cup.

"you're an idiot."

"can a man who got us free drinks really be deemed an idiot?" lip philosophized.

ian paused, taking a moment of thorough consideration. he looked lip straight in the eyes as he answered, "if that man is you, then without a doubt."

lip tried to knock ian's cup out of his hand, but failed at his attempt. ian thanked his well-practiced jrotc skills and a lifetime experience of growing up in a house packed with annoying siblings for his victory.

they chatted about the robotics classes lip was taking, how he got full-time access to one of the labs, and his weird ass roommate who may or may not be gay if ian is at all interested. ian scrunched up his face. after hearing so many horror stories about the guy, ian didn't want anywhere near him. he wasn't that desperate yet.

the second that lip was out of his seat and heading to the bathroom, the beautiful mess that was mandy descended.

"hiiii lip's gay brother," she leaned against the table.

"it's ian," he spun his empty cup in his hands. he couldn't help himself from smiling at her charisma.

"well hi, ian, i just wanted to say sorry if i spooked you earlier. i just had no idea lip's brother would be so cute!"

"his ugly mug's not too hard to beat." ian laughed. "he got the short end of the gallagher stick, literally."

"cute and charming. you're funny, ian gallagher, i like you." she placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment, a movement so soft compared to her rather frantic appearance. "come back here anytime and it's on the house, yeah? i work most evenings after three."

"oh. uh- okay," ian scrambled for words, "thanks."

she squeezed his shoulder once before lip returned with a rather obnoxious entrance.

"ayo mands, stop harassing him!"

ian ducked his head in embarrassment.

"oh, shut up! i'm just clearing your cups," she winked at ian as she left.

mandy was something else. but she was kind and good company. ian could get used to the chill atmosphere over the chaos of the gallagher house anytime. he might just take up her offer.

--

"you'd think with all the time you spend here, you'd be offered a scholarship or something by now." mandy sipped on her chocolate frappuccino as she laid her feet across ian's lap. he always made sure to come visit during her breaks at least twice a week during the past couple months.

ian shrugged, "guess they only had room for one gallagher."

mandy hit his arm in a way that hurt. lip was fucked if he ever broke her heart.

"does fiona even know that this is where you sneak off to?"

"yeah." mandy's look said she didn't believe him. "well, kinda. she thinks i'm visiting lip, brotherly duties and all."

"yeah? how are those brotherly duties?"

"fuck if i know."

she laughed.

"i still think you should apply here for next fall," she encouraged, "could take some art classes."

"i suck at art."

"chemistry?"

"failed that."

"business?"

"yeah, no thanks."

mandy flipped him off, "fine. botany?

"ya know what? sure." he had always wanted to grow tomatoes.

"really?!"

"heart wants what it wants, mandy. we can't all be psychology brainiacs."

"brains and beauty, what can i say?" she teased. ian laughed, eyes glistening towards his friend. mandy made things better.

"hey," she continued, "there's this concert on the main campus lawn this weekend, you should totally come!"

"isn't that just for students?"

"they don't card, dummy."

"right, right, i knew that."

"sureeee. you in?"

ian mentally checked his work schedule.

"i'm in."

--

lip and ian strolled into the café a few days later. okay, maybe ian had felt a bit guilty for abandoning his brotherly duties lately, but at least this way he could hang out with both his best friends. well he could have if he remembered the fact that mandy had the day off for her behavioral neuroscience midterm. they had literally spent her previous shift reviewing the terms, he should have known.

ian's couldn't help his face from falling as another blonde barista took their orders, mostly eyeing lip the whole time.

"hi lip," she smiled a little too sincerely, "what can i get for you today?"

ian had ordered something new at the recommendation of the blonde and he was not a fan. and to make matters worse, he had to actually pay for the atrocity that he wouldn't even be able to finish.

"so how's your little coffee dates with mandy?" lip asked over his cup.

ian nearly choked on his god-awful americano. "how'd you know?"

"please. she's obsessed with you. every time i see her, it's 'ian this,' 'ian that,' 'ian might apply here in next year.'"

"oh."

"yeah, oh. when were you gonna tell me?!"

“it’s all mandy’s idea, i’m not even sure i want to,” ian muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

“dude, i’ve literally shared a room with you since the day you popped out of monica’s wretched womb, you think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

okay maybe ian had been getting increasingly more excited about the idea of attending school and actually learning things that he wants to learn. something that might actually lead him somewhere real since rotc was looking more and more like a poor man's fantasy the more that he thought about it.

“I was gonna tell you, swear on it.” and he was. once he convinced himself that lip wasn't going to straight up laugh in his face. but the look in his eye seemed genuinely supportive.

“mhm, i gotta catch my english lit class," lip stood up, swinging his tattered tan backpack across one shoulder. he patted ian's shoulder in his big brother ways, "don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah for sure! have fun learning a language you already know!” lip flipped him off at his smartass remark.

soon after, ian stood up to return his drink to the counter, the anxiety from the conversation making him entirely lose whatever appetite he might have had. plus, it wasn’t the same here without lip or mandy. he just wanted to be wrapped up in a cocoon in his own bed. but that was so far away. maybe he could catch an early ride—

thump.

ian crashed into a guy’s sturdy body.

the remnants of his shitty drink spilled in an americano nightmare over both of them, ceramic pieces shattering on the floor in a truly horrific manner.

ian yipped and the other man let out a grunt of irritation.

they were fucking soaked. well, at least the coffee wasn't hot? ian tried justifying the situation, but, nah, this was bad.

"shit! i'm so sorry, lemme," ian reached out and the shorter man flinched away.

they were now far enough apart that ian got a good look at him. a leather jacket.. now covered in ian's drink -- shit. and shockingly piercing blue eyes that lingered too long on ian's before his cheeks turned a shade of pink that made ian's stomach flutter.

he might have seemed cold if he didn’t make ian feel so warm.

"it’s cool, man. i gotta go, uh," and he walked out of the café without looking back.

fuck.

ian smelled like coffee the entire train ride to the back of the yards. he laid in his bed regretting his entire life.

no mandy. no lip. no dignity.

--

the day of the concert that mandy had invited him to rolled around. ian wouldn’t admit it, but he was nervous to spend a coffee-less evening with mandy, their entire friendship built inside that one room. his little bubble of safety was bursting.

well, to be honest, the bubble had burst the moment that his disaster of a coffee was spilled onto one of the most ridiculously pretty guys that he's ever seen. every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the guy’s face shift from hostile to something else. he was torn between wanting to know the his name and also on never seeing him again in fear that he would simply pass away of embarrassment.

hopefully mandy hadn't heard about it. they may not have been friends for a long time, but he already knew that she would never let him live it down.

"hey ian!" her familiar voice called. that sounded promising.

his face fell with relief as he finally spotted her at the corner. she embraced him in a warm hug before pulling back and giving him a once over.

"huh, could have sworn you'd still have coffee behind your ear or something after the description karen gave me of your little disaster the other day." she smirked, quite literally double checking behind his ears as they turned hot under her gaze.

"ugh, fuck, how much did she tell you?" he itched his forehead and scrunched up his nose.

"oh, calm your tits, it's funny as fuck." she giggled, punching his arm in a way that still unintentionally hurt.

"whatever. are you excited for the concert tonight?"

their reunion conversation lulled eventually, and ian noticed that they weren't necessarily standing alone.

no. fucking. way.

just his luck, if he was being honest. he probably deserved this.

there he stood. the man that has plagued his dreams the past few days. in a light wash jean jacket that was a little tight on the biceps, leaning casually against the wall, kicking the pebbles on the ground with his boot.

"uh, what's he doing here?" ian gestured towards the victim of The Coffee Incident.

“what, you know him?” mandy asked, walking them towards him.

“vaguely.” if that wasn’t the understatement of the year.

"huh. i didn’t think my idiot brother had any friends."

brother? how did ian not realize she had a brother?

"what, did you think i was going to babysit you all night? i can't let everyone here thinking you're my boyfriend, no offense or whatever, but you're in good hands!" she kissed his cheek, clearly not helping her own not-looking-like-her-boyfriend rule.

ian eyed said brother's good hands only to see the faded letters of FUCK U-UP on them. oh.

mandy pushed ian over to her brother, "ian, mickey. mickey, ian," she introduced before pushing and shuffling her way through the crowd of college students to find herself someone’s cheap ass fruity alcohol to mooch off of.

mickey. ian's brain repeated over and over, a chime against the murmuring sea of voices they found themselves enveloped by.

"nice jacket," ian pointed out, an awkward attempt to converse before shoving his hands back in his pockets.

"it's my second favorite." the corners of his mouth lifted like there was more to the statement. ian took the bait, as if he could resist.

"what's your first?"

"first is still airing out the fuckin’ coffee smell," he smirked as ian groaned. "oh c’mon, man, don't go crying over spilled milk."

how could he not? on the bright side, he didn’t seemed to hate ian for it.

“if it was anyone else,” mickey drawled, “they’d have to get a beat down for it.”

“why do I get a free pass?” ian mused.

“well, you’re mandy’s friend, right?”

“yup,” ian tried to suppress his disappointment. he really did. but fiona always told him he wore his heart on his sleeve.

“yeah, that ain’t why, though,” his eyebrows waggled suggestively and ian nearly felt his heart drop out of his ass.

ian blessed whatever coffee god was out there for sending him both mandy and the beautiful man in front of him.

“you wanna go listen to the band?” ian nodded his head towards the stage with passionate players jumping around like they were playing lollapalooza or some shit.

“lead the way, stud, just try to keep your drinks off of me this time,” mickey knocked into ian’s own flannel covered shoulder.

yeah, ian couldn’t believe his luck. maybe karma was finally on his side.

—

mandy smirked at her brother and best friend not-so-subtly checking each other out over the course of the night, bopping their heads to the music and downing whatever free booze they could get their hands on.

she hoped that adding mickey to the equation would be enough incentive to convince ian to stick around. things were better when he was near.

the way that ian followed mickey around like a lost puppy with that dopey moon-eyed look, it seemed like her hopes would come true.

and when both ian and mickey strolled into the café to come visit her at work the next week, mickey in his worse-for-wear leather jacket and ian in borrowed denim, she thanks the coffee gods for her luck.

[egcdeath]

checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;) 

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics  *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me. 

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in. 

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there. 

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy. 

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise. 

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was. 

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy. 

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now. 

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what. 

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup. 

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another. 

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you. 

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side. 

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent. 

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t. 

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale. 

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you. 

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries. 

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared. 

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper. 

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

 The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home. 

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance. 

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell. 

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious. 

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.” 

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat. 

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case. 

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you. 

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times. 

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm. 

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall. 

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat. 

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…” 

You nodded again. 

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly. 

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted. 

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!” 

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement. 

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of  “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less. 

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless. 

You finally won.  

[butwhyduh]

Ghosts

Tim Drake x reader

Warning: grief, maladaptive grieving strategies, alcohol, smut, ghosts

I wrote this probably 3 months ago and just now edited it.

You met Tim Drake at the graveyard. It was a blustery early February day. The snow was on the ground but hadn’t snowed in a few days. A short dry blessing for Gotham. Graveyards were the few places that were treated as sanctuaries that they were. Most people in Gotham knew more than their fair share of loved ones residing in multiple across the city.

You walked down the stone path. In the summer the lazy shade of oak trees covered the path but right now, the bare branches just hung mockingly as they protected only a little from Gotham’s frequently bad winds.

You pulled your coat a little tighter and wished you had grabbed a scarf too. Nevermind, your visit was going to be short. You moved with practiced ease through the tombstones. You knew exactly were they were buried. A delicate iron fence surrounded a small spattering of stones. His family plot.

You walked through the gate to a grave on the right side. A small stone vase was attached to the tombstone. You placed a single white daffodil before standing silently. You had nothing to say. Funny when you miss a final goodbye, you often run out of things to say afterwards. You couldn’t cry. It was too stiff. Too odd. All you could do is sigh deeply before walking out of the yard.

You swiftly walked down the path as you hoped to escape the place that caused so much pain. In your hast, you hadn’t bothered watching for others. People very rarely visited on such cold days. You ran into someone.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasped. You’d ran into a man that was clearly grieving. How terribly rude.

“I’m okay,” he said steadying you with a hand on your elbow.

“I’m so sorry to bother you. I’ll let you be,” you said, flushing even in the cold weather.

“Are you alright?” He asked looking at you carefully. You nodded but didn’t move. “Grief is odd, isn’t it? I had to come down here but feel nothing. Not a damn thing.”

You froze. Most people weren’t this honest. “I get it. Grieving sucks. And it never makes any sense, hu?”

“No. It really doesn’t. I think that I’ll come down here and have a deep conversation with him but nothing comes out. I get over here and feel silly talking to a stone,” he said with a sigh. You looked at him. He was about your age and wore a long black peakcoat and a red scarf that whipped in the wind. His clothes were impeccably tailored but looked almost too mature for him. Something a man closer to 30 would wear rather than a guy around 20. Black hair, icy blue eyes. A little bit of a natural sarcastic smile.

“Sometimes the words come when I sit for a while,” you offered.

“Do you- do you mind if I ask who you were visiting? Not their name but who they were to you? You don’t have to. I just wonder,” he said. You hesitated before speaking.

“My boyfriend. He was my boyfriend. And you?”

“My best friend,” he said. “I don’t visit enough. Not near enough.”

“I understand. I’ll let you be then. So you can talk to them instead,” you said carefully. Most people wanted quiet alone time with their dead loved ones. Unlike you. You felt a sense of relief. At least your ghosts weren’t speaking to you when there was someone there.

“Please don’t,” he said quickly. Perhaps not. Maybe you weren’t the only one haunted by ghosts, even if his was more metaphorical. “I just hate being here alone. You don’t have to stay. I’m just a weirdo asking you to hang around a random grave.”

“It’s okay. I really hate being here alone too,” you said barely over a whisper. He nodded. “Do you- do you want to talk about them?”

“Him. Not really. He was just so young. To be dead already,” he said. You looked at the headstone. Yes 22 was far too young to be in the ground. You didn’t say anything.

“I’ll wake up and forget he’s dead sometimes,” he said playing with his fingers roughly. “And it’s like he dies all over again.”

“I’m so sorry. I’ll have a dream so vivid that it’s like he’s back. Sleeping can be so cruel, can’t it?” You said, feeling your throat tighten a little.

“It’s the worst. I just see his death over and over. I think my mind hates me sometime,” he admitted before gulping. You nodded again. You didn’t trust your voice not to break and you could bear to cry.

“You’re freezing,” he said suddenly, looking at you. “Here,” he offered you his scarf and put it around your neck before you could truly protest. His soft cologne invaded your senses. “Do you want get a drink? Or a coffee?”

“I could use a drink,” you answered and he nodded. He kicked the dirt with the tip of his shoes.

“There’s a little pub around the corner. They play cliche Irish music but it’s pretty quiet with good drinks,” he said.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Tim. Yours?” He asked back and you told him your first name. “Drinks? It’s cool if not.”

“Yes. I’m half frozen at this point,” you admitted.

“I can tell. You need to wear more layers,” Tim said with a small smirk.

“Is that Gotham’s version of ‘you’re not from around here?’” You asked. He huffed in amusement.

“Basically. You’re from somewhere warmer,” he said. You shrugged in agreement. “Let’s get going before you freeze.”

“It would be the most ironic place to die,” you responded. He shook his head but didn’t seem upset at your dark humor.

The pub was Irish themed in a way that made you wonder if they did anymore research besides the color green and putting on Flogging Molly which isn’t really Irish anyways. But it was warm and smelled like fried food. You sat in a cramped booth in the back and you couldn’t help but notice just how out of place Tim looked. Everything about him screamed rich and this was a working class bar. Tim didn’t seem to mind though.

“Are you hungry,” he asked and you realized you had a rumbling in your stomach. When was the last time you ate?

“Yeah. I wasn’t hungry until just now,” you commented.

“Yeah I usually force myself to eat,” he said waving over the waiter, a tall skinny guy that looked about 14 with almost white blond hair wet with sweat. You both ordered food and drinks.

“What do you do for a living,” you asked Tim as the food arrived. You were finally warm.

“My job is really boring. I work in investment in a technological corporation,” he said and your eyebrows rose. Tim shedded his coat. “I told you, boring.”

“Sounds... serious,” you said with a little smile and he chuckled. His smile was handsome and he had pretty blue eyes.

“Well, yeah. What do you do? Is your job fun?” He asked in a teasing voice. Even as you smiled back at him, you felt guilty. How could you be happy right now?

“I’m a painter. Or I’d like to be. I mainly design advertisements for companies right now,” you said.

“Painting? That actually sounds fun,” he said a little surprised. “Sorry. I haven’t really been around people since...”

“Yeah. It’s hard to be there when their happy and you’re...” you said. Great. You just made it dark again.

“Yeah...”

“Hey pretty lady,” a drunk man said, sitting next to you in the booth, pushing you closer to the wall. “Have I seen an angel on a star, or whatever.”

“Okay, let’s get going,” Tim said standing up and putting his hand on the guy’s shoulder and the guy shrugged him off. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“How do you know, rich boy? Maybe she wants to talk to a real man,” he said with a lopsided grin.

“I don’t,” you breathed as he leaned towards you. You pulled back against the wall. Tim pulled the man out of the booth. The guy growled and sized Tim up. He must have thought he had a good chance, being at least 4-5 inches taller and 50 lbs or more heavier.

He took a drunken swing at Tim who easily deflected away from him. The man didn’t stop but tried to punch Tim again. When he deflected another attack, the man grew even more red faced and tried to tackle Tim against the table. Before the gasp you made could fully come out, Tim had slipped out of the way and grabbed the back of the man’s neck and popped his face on the table. The man slid down unconscious to lay on the floor.

You stared with your mouth slightly agape. What the hell just happened??

“Are you okay?” Tim asked and you stuttered before assuring him you were. “Then we should probably get going. The bar won’t like this.”

“It’s a pub,” you corrected.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he said and you snapped out of it as he grabbed your hand and left out the building before the owner could throw you out. He instead screamed out the door that neither of you could come back. You and Tim ran down the street before stopping at the next block. You laughed loudly and after a confused second, Tim joined. He was still holding your hand.

“That’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” you said loudly before Tim shushed you. “How did you? He didn’t even get one hit in,” you breathed.

“Luck I guess?”

“Not a chance. You do karate or something,” you said, standing way too close to him. He grinned at you.

“Some Krav Maga. A little Jui Jitsu,” Tim said almost shyly and you nodded.

“I’ll pretend to know know what those are,” you said and he chuckled. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Tim said staring at you. You caught him looking down at your lips. He was really handsome and had just saved you. Cliche? Totally. Did you care? No.

You put your arm on his other shoulder, Tim’s free hand slid to hold your waist. He bent until he was just short of kissing you. All you had to do was lean up to kiss him.

“Can I?” He breathed.

“Yes,” you whispered. He pressed his lips against yours. The kiss started gentle but before long Tim’s hand held your jaw as he pushed his tongue in your mouth. You made a little breathy moan. Tim pulled back to catch a breath but still rested his forehead against yours. You grabbed his collar and pulled him back in. He grasped your back and pressed your body against his. You were panting when you finally pulled your lips apart.

“My place is a few blocks away,” you breathed. He gave you a questioning look. “If you, if you wanna come back.” He nodded before giving you a dizzying kiss. “Through this alley and we’ll be there in 2 minutes.”

“You shouldn’t walk through alleys,” he said before giving you another kiss. You pulled him along.

“I think I’m fine with you.” You said kissing him before walking some more.

“Okay but still. Alleys are dangerous.” He answered before you placed another kiss on his lips.

“Yeah, and we’re out of the alley now,” you said. “And here’s my building,” you said suddenly shy. You didn’t want your neighbors seeing you kissing some random guy. Especially one obviously rich like Tim. He probably didn’t even know he stuck out. You pulled away from him.

You unlocked the door and quietly offered for him to walk in. Where did your boldness go? Tim stepped in and you thanked your stars that you had cleaned up that morning.

“Do you want a drink?” You asked as you shut the door. Tim hung his coat on a coat rack that had come with the places. He shook his head and walked over to you. His eyes looked over your body like he wanted to eat you.

“What do you want?” You whispered. He looked down at you with dark eyes. His lips were red from your kissing.

“You?” He said more as a question. Can I have you?

“Hmm,” you said with a little smirk before pulling him down by the collar to kiss more. Tim’s hands roamed your body, gentle at first and then more aggressive.

You knew you shouldn’t bring a man home. Not a one night stand. Especially because you were grieving. Emotional. But as dusk fell outside your window and his hands held you firmly, you couldn’t help but be grateful that he was chasing your ghosts away. He leaned over your in bed, his lips pressed against your collarbone as he fingered you.

“Do you have condoms?” He breathed against your skin in a rough voice.

“Bedside table, top drawer,” you answered. Tim reached over to grab one. “Are you sure? Do you want this?” He asked, holding it in hand.

“Yes,” you said taking the condom to roll it on yourself. Tim breathed out quickly as you jerked a few times before sliding it on. He leaned over you and carefully looked over your face before sliding in.

You arched into his touch as he moved. His touch was soft, sweet, cautious. But not in the way anyone in your life treated you. There was no pity. You weren’t a broken doll to be tiptoed around. He was grieving too. His movement sped up as you both got closer and you got out of your head.

You softly moaned his name as you came. Tim groaned before resting his forehead against yours as he finished. He pulled out and threw the condom away. He pulled on his boxers but didn’t seem to know what to do next.

“Stay,” you said and he looked at you surprised.

“Are you sure?”

“Just-just tonight. I hate sleeping alone,” you said, feeling small. The idea of him leaving had the place feel colder, darker. Tim seemed to deliberate in his head before nodding.

“I can stay just tonight,” he said and you weren’t quite sure if he was telling you or himself. He climbed in bed and you scooted closer. He laid on his side and you slid closer to spoon. It was comforting to hear another heartbeat and feel the warmth of a body. It’d been months since you’d had that. Even if it was just one night, you didn’t feel alone. It felt secure and you quickly fell asleep.

You woke up to the unfamiliar but pleasant sensation of laying on a man’s chest wrapped up tight in blankets. A steady heartbeat and warm skin was soothing in the early morning light. You almost drifted off to sleep to the sounds of his breathing when you saw her.

A ghost. A woman in her late 30s or early 40s in conservative upper class women clothing that wasn’t too out of date. She had her arms crossed over her chest and she looked down at you both in disapproval. Her nose looked like Tim’s and she had the same black straight hair as he did.

You gulped and tried to blink her away. That worked some times. Not today. It was weird to see her anyways. Wasn’t it his make best friend that died? Who was she? She stepped closer and you stiffened. She was self-aware and was trying to speak to you. A very determined ghost indeed.

Tim moved in his sleep as if he could sense her presence. She reached out her hand as if she wanted to push the hair back on his forehead. You gasped as she moved closer. What kind of fucking ghost...? Tim woke up and she disappeared with a pop.

“You okay? You look scared or something,” he said in a rough pretty morning voice. You debated answering him truthfully that he was haunted by a mean looking woman but decided against it. He was a one night thing right?

“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” you said and he nuzzled closer.

“Hmm I’d rather have breakfast,” he muttered kissing your neck. You flushed. You hadn’t bothered shopping in a while.

“I don’t really- my fridge is-“

“Not the kind I’m talking about,” Tim said gently pushing you to your back.

“Oh,” you said as he slid beneath the sheets. You certainly weren’t complaining as he kissed down your body. He was good at it but it was also a great tactile distraction. Ghosts weren’t there when you were far to busy to see them.

It’s a little different so let me know what you think.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

It's Delicate: Part II

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author’s Note: Here's the second part in It's Delicate, my first chapter fic. I've planned out kind of where I see this eventually going! Thank you to anyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs. It really means the world to me.

Content Warnings: Expletive language (3 uses), mentions of drug use, sexual innuendo

READ PART I

It's Delicate Masterlist

It's Delicate

Sitting on the plane, Spencer looks out from the little window. For hours, there’s been nothing but corn fields and clouds. It’s eerily peaceful, being there high above the clouds. His whole life Spencer has felt this distance between him and everyone else, but nothing makes that feeling more prominent than being strapped in a glorified metal box 35,000 feet off the Earth’s surface. But the thing is, Spencer does need to be flying above the trees to feel lonely. He can do that with two feet on the ground.

Luke sits across Spencer, the table between them and a deck of playing cards are spread out across its surface. He has to nudge Spencer’s leg from under the table, trying to bring him back to reality as he stares out the window.

“Whatcha thinking,” Luke asks, Spencer has been noticing more and more that Luke is one of the few people that actually listens to him.

Spencer, whose mind is racing too fast to even formulate an articulate thought, attempts to dodge Luke’s question with a noncommittal shrug.

“Reid, these cases are hard for all of us, you gotta know that man,” Luke says, laying down a four of a kind.

Spencer narrows his eyes, shocked that it hasn’t clicked yet for the rest of the team. He cracks his neck, preparing to answer Luke.

“We almost locked up an innocent man, Alvez. I almost sent another man to the same fate as myself. What kind of fucked up message is that?” Spencer says, throwing down the cards on the table. He doesn’t wait for Luke to respond.

“I fold,”

Spencer walks off into the small kitchenette to make a cup of coffee. He doesn’t want to think about his increased reliance on coffee, because he knows it’s a hot cup of coffee or a cold needle of Dilaudid in his veins. Spencer checks his watch, it’s 10:17 pm, maybe too late to find a meeting at a church or rec center somewhere.

He sneaks a peak at his phone, which was still unfortunately on Airplane Mode, he hasn’t even gotten a chance to see if Y/N has responded. He doesn’t know much about her, just as much as she knows about him.

It’s a brave new world for Spencer and he’s knee deep into the unknown.

Spencer can feel Luke’s eyes on him. He just knows that the minute he gets home, a certain tech expert will be ringing him. He knows that it’s Luke’s way of caring, but for someone who’s been alone for so long, having people that actually care is almost drowning.

Walking back to his seat, Spencer hands Luke a coffee. He smiles slightly; it’s the awkward smile that he used to make when intimating police chiefs and idiot cops would look him up and down like he’s a TA. It’s a peace offering for Luke, who despite his tough looking exterior, is one of the kindest people Spencer knows.

“Look, Reid. I’m sorry that we didn’t put it together. It’s just that man that we caught, he’s not like you. He’s not innocent of crimes, he’s just innocent of this crime,” Luke says in an attempt to make Spencer feel a little bit better.

“The thing is Luke, I’m exactly like that man,”

Spencer returns to staring out the window. The cards and the coffee on the table are long ignored for the silence that is found when you’re high above the clouds.

--

Spencer hears Tara and Emily murmur quietly about going out for a round of drinks. Luke accepts, while JJ and Matt decline, eager to get home to their families. Emily looks over at Spencer, her eyes silently scanning him, his body language. Spencer knows that there’s nothing he can hide from Emily, so there’s no use in trying to pretend he’s alright when she can take one look at him and know that nothing is right.

“You guys have fun, I’m going to head home and get some sleep. I plan on visiting my mom tomorrow and mornings are usually better for her,” Spencer says, slinging his go bag around his shoulders and making the trek back to the security to check out.

He walks slowly, enjoying the sound of the crickets chirping as he trudges along. Spencer tries not to think about the man, Richard, who was almost locked up for a crime that he didn’t commit. Spencer is pretty sure that being the person to throw an innocent man in jail is worse than being the innocent man in jail.

Spencer’s phone buzzes loudly, disturbing the silence of his walk. He looks at the phone to see a couple of messages from Y/N. Spencer slides open the lock to his phone and hits the button to read her messages.

Y/N: Spencer...that has a nice ring to it. So tell me a little bit about yourself. Your big three, but as books. Go! 🌞🌙⬆️

Furrowing his brow, Spencer reads the message over again. He does not have a clue what “big three” means, but it seems like some sort of pop culture thing that he’s not skilled in. He wants to text Garcia for a translation, but he’s also not too keen on telling her how he came across Y/N’s number.

Y/N: I assume you’re working, but I'm kind of impatient so I’ll give you mine 🙃 I’m a Little Women sun, an Emma moon, and an In Cold Blood rising.

Y/N: Oh no….I hope my astrology didn’t turn you off

Y/N: Not that I was trying to turn you on

Y/N: omg Y/N please shut the fuck up

Astrology? Spencer isn’t one to judge, but he’s a scientist first and foremost. The idea that there is something written about him in the stars seems like ludicrous. He decided to ignore the other messages, particularly the ones with a little more than slight innuendo.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m sorry I just got out of work. As for my big three, I’m not sure about astrology. I don’t particularly believe in pseudoscience. But those are good choices. In Cold Blood is an excellent choice. Capote spent years researching the case. In fact his prose and technique inspired the entire “Nonfiction novel” genre. The world of journalism and true crime would not be where it is without Capote’s work.

Y/N: Oh my god. You are a total nerd. 🙀

That stops Spencer right in his tracks. He’s only a couple of yards away from the Volvo at this point, but somehow it feels a million miles away. You are a total nerd. The words replay in his mind as the small gray bubbles pop up again. Spencer can feel his heart constrict at Y/N’s words. It’s ridiculous, he’s nearly 34 and is getting upset that a stranger called him a nerd. Spencer unlocks his car and tosses his go bag, phone included onto the passenger seat.

After a couple of minutes his phone buzzes again. He’s half tempted to answer it, but the way his heart seems to beat faster tells him to ignore it.

Y/N: I fucking love it and I think you’ll love this too

Spencer’s entire demeanor changes as he reads the message. He’s always had difficulties reading emotion in writing, especially when he can’t analyze the handwriting. Sometimes, it’s even harder to judge inflection during conversations. Maybe that is why Spencer has spent all this time studying people, studying the way that their minds work. Before he can get too lost in his thoughts, another message pops up.

Y/N: Meet Capote and Second Cat

Y/N: They are the loves of my life

Spencer: They are very...distinguished looking. Capote is an excellent name choice then. Second Cat is also quite catchy.

Spencer hesitates before sending the message, he notices that Y/N uses what Garcia calls “emojis” quite frequently. He assumes that it’s some sort of “texting lingo” that expresses emotion in small graphics. Great, he thinks. He already has a difficult time deciphering Y/N’s cryptic wording and now he’s got to analyze these emojis.

Maybe he should profile her. He re-reads the message and settles on a “😄” because he figures that he can’t go wrong with offering Y/N a smile.

Spencer: I don’t have a cat, but when I was a kid I always wanted one, they’re quite good companions for those that live several different kinds of lifestyles. From active to sedentary, they are adaptable and independent. Honestly they are the perfect pet.

Y/N: Is this your way of telling you’re a crazy cat man? 😜 🙀

Spencer, still sitting in his car that’s parked in the parking lot, chuckles at Y/N’s response to his message. Maybe it’s just easier to ignore his rambling when it’s done through 1s and 0s and there isn’t a face to the words.

Spencer: I’m actually more of a fish guy

Y/N: Like a “I-like-to-go-fishing-and-post-picture-of-myself-kissing-my-catch-on-Tinder” kind of fish guy or...I can’t think of any other kind of fish men

Spencer, not totally understanding the obvious joke that Y/N is trying to make, settles on something that he hasn’t really ever tried: being himself.

Spencer: Not quite sure what a Tinder is, but I think fishing is terrifying and kissing a fish is something out of nightmares. But his name is Leo

Y/N: DiCaprio?

Spencer: Uhh, Tolstoy

Y/N: Good😉 ⚔️🕊️ 🇷🇺

Spencer glances at his clock on the control panel, it tells him that he’s been messaging with Y/N back and forth for nearly 22 minutes. He nearly forgot how tired he was.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m so sorry but, I just got to my car to drive home from work. I’ll text you tomorrow morning about the book club, maybe we can figure out some things.

Y/N: OMG Spencer!! you should have told me. I’ve been talking ur ear off. sleep well and yes please tomorrow we can talk about the book club

Y/N: Good night, Book Buddy 😴

Spencer wants to respond to Y/N, but he doesn’t know what to say. She seems to text so easily, and judging by that, she must be around Spencer’s age or a little bit younger. Besides JJ and Penelope, Spencer has never had a friend close to his age. It’s a strange new territory for him and he’s walking in head first into No Man’s Land.

He starts his Volvo, the check engine still lights but, reminding him once again to go get it fixed. Driving away from the parking lot, Spencer hands over his ID to Gina, the security guard. She checks his ID and gives him a tired smile. Spencer, as he drives home to his apartment, thinking about what books he and Y/N will read together. He wonders what kind of books are her favorite, if they have any authors that they can obsess over together, or if what she thinks a poet’s prose is.

The summer air rushing in through the window is nowhere as warm and as comforting as thought of Spencer finally having a friend that isn’t able to read the scars of his past in the text bubbles that pop up on her screen.

--

When Spencer opens his eyes for the first time that morning, he isn’t sure where he is. Sometimes, before he can stop his thoughts from travelling there, Spencer thinks he’s still in jail. He hates the feeling of terror that rushes over him but he hates the idea of being vulnerable a little bit more. But the softness of his pillows and the coolness of his cotton sheets remind him that he’s not sleeping on a hard cot with only a layer of fabric over his body. The light streams in through the half closed blinds, and Spencer judges by how brightly the sun shines in, it must be around 9:45 am.

He supposes that he prefers the way the sun’s rays paint horizontal bars across his face more than the vertical bars that cast gray shadows over his cell at Milburn Penitentiary.

It’s a day off from work, so Spencer didn’t set an alarm, instead allowing his mind and his body to catch up on some much needed rest. The nightmares have been getting better, but his dreams are still haunted by the way that he hardly recognizes himself anymore. Deciding that it will be a day spent in pajamas, Spencer goes to his bookshelf in his bedroom to pick out a couple of novels to read while he drinks his morning coffee and defrosts some of Luke’s strawberry pastries.

Before heading out of his room, Spencer stops himself in the doorway. He replays the events of last night. He declined to go out with the rest of the team, while he walked to his car he thought about the crickets telling the temperature, and he read over Y/N’s messages.

Y/N.

He promised he’d text her back in the morning about their book club. Last night, she didn’t seem to mind Spencer’s long messages and awkward phrasing. He still doesn’t really know how this Book Buddy thing would work, but since he found Y/N’s number on the flyer, he can only assume that she knows what to do. He leaps on his bed, landing with thud on his belly, to grab his phone that charges on his nightstand.

Spencer settles at his kitchen table, a cup of steaming hot Dark Roast coffee in a Captain Spock mug in one hand and, surprisingly, his phone in the other. He scrolls through the messages from last night, Y/N’s cat and emojis tempt a smile to Spencer’s face.

Not entirely sure how to start the conversation again, Spencer looks around for inspiration until his eyes land on a certain fish tank in the corner of his apartment. He snaps a quick picture of Leo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: Good Morning from Leo & Spencer

Spencer sets down his phone after a moment when he realizes that Y/N is probably not going to answer him back in a couple of seconds. He takes out a strawberry pastry from his freezer and puts it into the toaster oven on a non-stick baking sheet. His thumbs run across the texture of the book he started on the plane ride after his and Luke’s ill fated poker game. It's a thin book of collected essays on the meaning of life. Camus, to Spencer, is a little pessimistic with his droning on about the meaninglessness of life. Though Spence has seen the absolute worst that humanity has to offer, he still has to believe that there’s a deeper meaning behind it all.

His toaster oven rings, altering him so that his toasted strawberry pastry is cooked. He plates his breakfast and pours himself another cup of coffee- he’ll need it to get through Camus’s section on Absurdism this early in the morning. But the flash of Spencer’s phone screen sends him reaching for his phone. Y/N replied to his message.

Y/N: hi leo!!!

Y/N: and you too Spencer :) Did you get a good night’s sleep. You got back late it seems.

Spencer, taking a bite of the strawberry pastry, ignores the burning sensation in his mouth. He types out a response to Y/N as he washes down the bite with a swing of coffee.

Spencer: I did, thank you. Can you tell me a little bit more about this book buddy thing. From what I gathered from the flyer it’s like a little book club of our own and we meet at the bookstore?

It doesn’t take long for Y/N to respond. The little gray dots pop up almost immediately after Spencer’s message is delivered.

Y/N: That’s about right! Is it okay if I call you? Kinda easier to talk that way 🤷‍♀️

Spencer reads over the message a couple of times. He doesn’t really like to talk on the phone and only does it out of necessity. He’s pretty sure that his voice is grating and his vocal fry is quite irritating. Yet, he finds himself replying “yes” to Y/N. Soon enough, his phone buzzes in his hand and Spencer has to remind himself how to pick up a call.

“Spencer? Um, this is Spencer Reid, right?” the voice says. It’s a woman’s voice and he can only assume that it’s Y/N, considering it is her phone number calling him.

“Y/N, uh hi. This is Dr. Spencer- I mean this is Spencer,” he says, nearly forgetting that Y/N doesn’t know him as Dr. Reid, but as just Spencer. It’s been a long time since someone has known him as Spencer.

“Oh great! It’s wonderful to finally have a voice to your name. So about these buddy reads. You seem to have a good grasp of what they are,” Y/N’s voice trails off a little bit at the end and Spencer finds it natural to fill in the silence.

“Yes, the flyer was quite informative. But I was wondering, do we read the same books or do we read different books?” Spencer asks, trying to restrain himself from scaring Y/N off. But something about her made him think that she didn’t scare easily.

Y/N chuckles lightly in the speaker of her phone, “that’s a good question, uh, I was actually going to ask you what you would rather. We can read the same books, or if it’s okay with you we can choose what the other would read for that week,”

“Oh really?” Spencer says, very much aware how his voice rises a couple of octaves. He can’t trust himself to hold back on rambling over the phone Y/N, so he resorts to using his strained, brittle voice that’s full of hesitation and restraint.

“That’s the plan, so whatcha thinking, Spencer,” Y/N says playfully, like she can sense that phone conversations maybe not make him feel at ease. There’s something so natural and silvery about her voice; it reminds Spencer of an audiobook reader. While he’s not too keen on audiobooks, he’s sure that he’d listen to anything she reads or has to say.

“Um, I think it sounds interesting to pick out books for each other. I tend to gravitate towards more technical books or even books that aren’t in English so, uh, I think it would be interesting to get out of my comfort zone,” Spencer says, cringing internally at using the word “interesting” twice in a couple of sentences.

“Well, as long as you don’t pick out something in physics or anything by Ayn Rand then I’d say we’re good,” Y/N says. Spencer thinks it’s a joke, but he’s not too sure how to respond.

“Will you still be my Book Buddy if I read 1 out of 2 of those?” Spencer asks, hoping she’d get that he is trying to continue the joke.

“Oh no Spencer please don’t tell me you’re an Ayn Rand fanboy,” she says, and by the airy way she laughs, Spencer ventures to guess his joke landed successfully.

“So,” Spencer starts, he never has made plans with people outside of his team, and on top of that, there’s something about Y/N’s quickness that makes him a little nervous to meet her.

“I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I? Please Spencer, if you’re going to be my Book Buddy, you’re going to have to get used to me talking a lot, especially you pick out good books, which, I already have a feeling you’re going to be favorite Book Buddy,”

For once in his life, Spencer doesn’t really know how to respond. He lets out something in between a strangled laughter and a noncommittal chuckle.

“So,” Y/N says, mirroring Spencer’s earlier words, “so are you free tonight, I can meet you at the bookstore..”

Y/N’s voice trails off and Spencer leaps to finish her sentences. It doesn’t feel like his interjecting or interrupting, but like he’s snapping a puzzle piece together.

“Does 7 work?” “7 is great, Spencer. It’s a date,”

Those three little words send Spencer’s eyes flying wide open. He scrambles to come up with answer to louden the silence that falls, but he swears he can hear a string of quiet curses before Y/N manages to squeak out a small “goodbye,”

Y/N’s last words play back in Spencer’s ears. He scolds himself for being so weird and awkward that the very idea of going on a date with him would send Y/N in a tizzy. It’s not a date, because Spencer can’t think about it being a date. It’s not a date because of the looming photo above his mantle that freezes his future in the past. It’s not a date because of the nightmare of vertical bars that haunt his dreams

It’s not a date. It’s so not a date because Spencer would call Luke to come over to help him if it was.

“Hey Luke,” Spencer says, trying to control the nervous waves in his voice, “no man, I’m fine, it’s uh, easier if you just come over. I’m fine, really,”

Y/N: I really hope you're not an Ayn Rand fanboy 😉

It’s so not a date.

--THANK YOU FOR READING--

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[noonastopride]

Pride, Chapter 3

The Northern Pride formed to give some of the female Alpha Hybrids a safe place where they could live, and thrive, away from the aggressive advances of weaker males.

The idea of Mates was like a fairy tale to them, until one of their own finds hers on a business trip.

Agust was happy working as a chef in his mother's restaurant in South Korea, but dropped everything to be with his Mate. After a tense introduction to her Pride, he makes himself at home and finds he fits in with the women his Mate considers her sisters.  

Now that he’s met them, he suspects the females of the Northern Pride might actually have Mates; his brother and friends from his Pride back in Korea.

Chapter 3

   The winter months seemed to fly by, and before they knew it, it was time for the group of men to arrive for their vacation. The weather was warm and beautiful. The garden was flourishing, and the lake was warm enough to swim in. Rayne could almost have forgotten about the incoming intruders, but the excitement of the rest of the women wouldn’t be ignored.

“You guys,” Fae said as they sat around the fire pit in the back yard the night before the men’s arrival, “Do you think it’s weird that I am super attracted to Agust’s twin brother? Like, Agust is handsome, sure. But his brother is so sexy! I’ve seriously been wondering if he is my Mate. Like, what if our Mates are coming?!”

“Oh my Gaaawwwd!” Scarlett couldn’t help the wanting in her voice as her eyes rolled back and she tilted her head toward the heavens,

“Could you imagine? This time tomorrow, one of them could be making me make those same noises Natalie gets to make every day!”

Angel giggled and held her hands together in prayer before she all but yelled,

“Please! God, yes! I got a wax today, just in case.”

Rokki couldn’t hold back her laughter,

“You really are a fore-thinker.”

Angel smiled wide before answering,

“A man likes a clean dinner plate.”

Ana leaned over to clink her beer bottle with Angel’s, praising the way she thought.

Rayne sat, peeling the label off of her bottle and quietly listening to her sisters wax poetic about what these men could be like, and if any of them could be their Mates.

   Agust had damn near had to sign a contract in blood for her to relax about this visit. He repeatedly told her that no one was trying to take over. It wasn’t until he finally shared his suspicion about the men possibly being Mates for her sisters with her that she finally relented. The women didn’t know about that. Agust and Rayne had decided that it would be best to keep that to themselves, in case he was wrong. But, watching their reactions to the men during their frequent video visits, Rayne was almost positive there were a few Mated pairs that would be meeting the next day.

   Agust took the Suburban to the airport the next day to meet with his brother and their friends. The men were planning on renting a couple of cars for their stay, but they’d decided it would be best if he met them there to be their guide. Plus, the women decided that he could go shopping for the extra necessities while he was out. It was a win-win.

“It’s going to be HOURS before he gets back,” Natalie whined as the group of women gathered for their morning coffee around the table on the back patio.

“Oh My Gawd, Natalieeeee” Scarlett scolded, glaring at the woman, “You are so thoroughly well laid that you reek of him all the time now. In fact, I don’t even remember what your individual scent smells like anymore. I think you can live without him for a few hours.”

“Didn’t you blow him before he left, though?” Angel asked, taking a sip of her iced coffee, “We only heard him, and you are not that quiet.”

Natalie smirked at them, “Of course I did! Couldn't have my man leaving without a friendly reminder of where he belongs, could I?”

Rokki snorted at that, “You give each other plenty of reminders. That’s why we had you move over to the hut in the trees. So we could actually sleep without being woken up by your constant reminders.”

   There were several smaller houses around the property. Some had a bedroom, some were studio style, but all housed beds, bathrooms and small kitchenettes. There were several bedrooms in the “big house”, and Natalie had been living in one of them until recently. The group all tended to spend a majority of their time together in the big house, and listening to Agust make Natalie cum constantly was wearing on them.

“When is Bam supposed to come by with the meat, again?” Angel asked, thinking about the dwindling meat supply freezer and the pile of men that she assumed had large appetites that were due to arrive in a few hours.

“Next week, I think.” Ana answered, “Do you want me to send him a message? Make sure?”

   Bam-Bam was a human that had a ranch right down the road from the compound. They tried to buy a majority of their meat from him. He was a good guy. Always up to help with anything the women needed without assuming anything.

“He’s a cutie. I’ve always been disappointed that he’s human,” Alice sighed before taking a sip of her brew.

“You think every man is a cutie, Alice,” Fae said, rolling her eyes at her boy crazy friend.

Alice gasped in outrage, “Not every man! Just the men that are worth it. And, I don’t know if you’ve looked, but Bam-Bam is definitely worth it.”

    The women finished their coffee and went about their day before eventually being called into the garden, or Scar’s Garden, as the painted sign above the wooden archway said, that afternoon. Scarlett had the greenest thumb of them all, and fully enjoyed her time digging in the dirt. There was even a plan in place to build a big greenhouse for her to be able to expand their home grown food supply. The Garden was huge, with lines of raised beds, and log fencing surrounding it to keep the local wildlife out. On a special day like that, she wanted to show how lush and plentiful her work had been by making a few dishes with the ingredients she grew.

   While Scarlett had the women occupied in the garden, Agust pulled the large, black suburban up to the front of the big house, with another SUV parking right behind.

“Here we are!” Agust said cheerfully to the other 3 men in his vehicle. Yoongi, his twin brother, Namjoon and Taehyung all looked around, impressed with what the women had done with the property. Agust had filled them in on the history of this little pack, and what they’d accomplished in their time together.

   The men exited their respective vehicles and stood in the sunshine, appreciating the breeze that was coming up from the lake as they stretched their legs after their long day of travel.

   As they were getting ready to unload the luggage and the groceries, the direction of the wind changed the slightest bit, causing all 7 of the newcomers to stop in their tracks. Their heads all jerked to face the wind, inhaling the scents it carried with looks of curiosity and wonder on their handsome faces.

    Agust closed his eyes and smiled as he picked out Natalie’s scent, the knowledge that he was home sinking into his pores. He’d only been gone for a few hours, but just knowing his Mate was near soothed everything in him.

    With a huge, gummy smile he turned to the others and took in their glazed over eyes,

“Let’s take your luggage into the foyer for now, then can you guys help me load the groceries into the kitchen,” Agust directed as he opened the back of the suburban. He had already explained to the men that he wasn’t positive where they would be sleeping. But, if their reactions were correct, they would not be sleeping alone after today.

   Seven curious men followed Agust into the house to get things in order and grab their bottles of micro brew before he led them out onto the back patio. They were all naturally being drawn to a wooden fence to the side, their noses and instincts controlling their movements.

Agust chuckled at them before suggesting they relax at the table,

“Relax, fellas. The girls will be up soon. We don’t want to spook them. I expect they’ll come say hi as soon as the wind changes direction.”

A few of them frowned, but understood what he was saying between the lines… Don’t overwhelm them. No one would be happy if seven strange men barged in to claim their Mates. At the same time, anyway.

“As it is, only Rayne knows about my suspicion that they are your Mates. It was the only way I could calm her fears and get her to agree to this visit.”

Agust tipped his bottle toward Jungkook, “I left out the part about her Mate coming, too. She’s very wary and doesn’t trust hybrid men. From what I gather, the males around here are not very strong and have tried to impose their will in ways that left a mark.”

Jungkook growled low in his chest and the rest all winced and nodded, having seen their fair share of bad dealings with male hybrids that are lower in the hierarchy trying to dominate.

   As the minutes passed, the Alphas relaxed in silence as they each spent time picking their Mates’ scents out of the air. It was an odd feeling that none of them were expecting. Sure, they were well aware that there was a possibility that these women could be their Mates before they arrived, but now that they’d had the smallest taste of their scents, there was a feeling of being home. A knowledge that they didn’t need to search anymore, even if they didn’t realize they’d been searching in the first place.

   Luna, Rayne’s cat, appeared from her hiding spot, and slowly made her way over to one man in particular. The others tried to get her attention, wanting to pet the long haired fuzzball, but she was having none of it. Only one man at that table held any interest for her. She jumped onto Jungkook’s lap and settled in, growling at any hand that wasn’t his that tried to pet her.

   Again, Agust had to chuckle at how the day was progressing in such a short amount of time, “That is Rayne’s cat, Luna. She hates everyone except for her person.”

Jungkook looked down at the feline that was purring loudly as he scratched underneath her chin, “She seems to like me just fine.”

“If I’m not wrong, that IS your Mate’s cat, Jungkook.” Seokjin said before looking at Agust  “Rayne was that first female we saw on the video call, right? The one that doesn’t like you?”

Agust nodded in agreement as he took a sip from his beer bottle. Seokjin laughed heartily at that, “Perfect! Jungkook needs a woman that will make him work for it. Arrogant cub.”

    In the garden, Scarlett had set the women to their tasks, sending Alice and Rayne over to pick strawberries since they were more likely to eat what they picked than save it for dinner, and the strawberry patch was flourishing, so there was plenty to keep them occupied.

  Fae and Rokki were sent to tend to the tomatoes, Angel and Ana were cutting lettuce for the salad they had planned, and Scar was overseeing their care of her garden while collecting the rest of the ingredients they would need for the evening.

  Natalie was not a huge fan of playing in the dirt, and had taken up her spot with a blanket on a soft grassy area near the entrance with her overly large sun hat and sunglasses.

“Can we stop soon? I want some wine,” She complained “And I need more sunscreen.”

Rayne giggled through her mouthful of strawberries,

“Is the strain of not having a penis inside of you for a few hours taking its toll?”

Natalie’s whiny response of “YES” had the group rolling with laughter.

When the wind changed directions and she caught a whiff of her Mate, she squealed “He’s here! They’re here. My man is here!” as she scrambled to get up off of her blanket.

The rest of the women went still, their eyes were wide as they, too, carefully sniffed the air. There were a lot of new scents coming their way, but each woman felt their bodies relax and go soft with the comfort only a Mate can bring.

Whether they wanted it or not.

   Rayne frowned and blew out a harsh breath, resigned to the knowledge that her Mate had arrived. Mates never rejected each other. It just wasn’t done. But that didn’t mean she was going to jump on him and accept this blindly. If he truly was her Mate, and he truly was strong enough to love her for her, he would be able to work for it. Prove himself strong enough to be her Mate.

   She looked around at the others, they looked a little shell shocked.

“You guys,” Alice whisper-yelled in between deep inhales, “You guys! I smell something. You guys! I... I think one of them is my Mate!”

The others all murmured in agreement, saying that they were having the same experience.

Natalie had run out of the garden the moment she smelled Agust, but the rest of them were almost stuck in shock. Excited and unsure of what to do.

“Well we aren’t going to accomplish much if we just hide in the garden, ladies,” Scarlett said as she double checked everyone had their baskets full of food, “Come on. Let’s go!”

“Thank God I thought to get that wax yesterday,” Angel said under her breath as she, too, collected her things, causing nervous laughter to ripple through the group.

On the patio, Agust’s smile could have lit the planet when he heard the screech of his Mate as she ran out of the garden. He chuckled as he stood and took two steps in her direction.

“Babyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!” Natalie yelled loud enough for it to echo off of the water as she sprinted toward her man. Her giant hat had flown off before she lunged at him, jumping up to wrap her legs around his waist and attack his face with kisses, “I missed you!”

  The couple’s moment was interrupted by the laughter of several of the men.

“AHEM,” said the carbon copy of Agust.

Yoongi was ready to give his brother as much shit as he possibly could for this display. He would never do such a thing, he had his pride.

Natalie didn’t bother unwrapping herself from Agust when she acknowledged the visitors with a wiggling of her fingers. She wanted to be as close as she could to her Mate. He’d been gone for so many hours!

   Agust pulled her legs from around his waist, assuring her that it was only so they could settle into a chair together.

“Jesus”, Seokjin, the eldest of the bunch, said from the other side of the table, “What’s happened to you since you left?”

Agust chuckled, “We will come back to that question in a couple of days, Seokjinnie.”

Next

Chapter List

[sumsebien]

by design pt. 3// Prince Friedrich

series masterlist

summary: friedrich and y/n’s arrival in prussia! ft. frederica ;))

word count: 4.7k

warnings: none

a/n: apologies for the long wait darlings. here she is though. and she is a long one. also a side note for those who love symbolism as much as i do 💐 ;) also, my banabaer @milkbaer this one is for u baby. thank you for all of your help!!!

a german lesson: Gänschen means goose🦆 (that’s a duck but we can pretend) and schloss means palace/chateau/mansion

The massive railway station stood proudly as the gateway to Potsdam, located right where the forest met the city. Three archways made of worn bricks welcomed old friends and strangers alike. There was something in the slightly tinted mossy green that offered you an odd sense of home. Like you had been here before.

Friedrich stood next to you near the exit. You had had breakfast together, then got ready separately before meeting each other again here.

“I had a lot of memories with this train station,” Friedrich said as the train finally passed the great archway.

You didn’t realize that you had been holding your breath the entire time, waiting for the wheels to come to full stop. You had been storing information from Lea and Ilse about Friedrich’s mother all morning. Anything that might help you strike up a decent conversation with her from her favorite flowers (gardenias) to her pets (a schnauzer named Fifi). Since then, you had been a little preoccupied by your own imaginations of her as a mother.

From the way Friedrich talked about her, your first guess was that they were extremely like-minded. Aside from that, there was the fact that she was a Queen to consider. She obviously must be extremely elegant and poised. Even her dog sounded posh-Fifi the Schnauzer...

You were still listening to Friedrich though, just not closely. “Really?” you asked, your eyes following the platform numbers as they passed by.

He nodded proudly. “I ran here from the Palace and caught the train to Berlin for a boxing match.”

You laughed, now entirely engaged in imagining little Friedrich fleeing from his guards. “And how old were you?”

“Thirteen. I skipped a dancing lesson.”

“Shame. You could have become a ballerina and outdone my stunts at your Christmas party.”

“Who’s to say that I did not? There are still many shocking things that you don’t know.” His plan to distract you from your own nerves had worked wonderfully well. You two continued to discuss his boxing match up until you were escorted out of the station.

There, you were greeted by a great spectacle of carriages and a horse parade. Everywhere you looked there were men in uniforms. They were on horses, in open top carriages, on the streets, all waiting for you and Friedrich.

Back in London, your family frequently had two to three carriages to accompany you to social functions. It was already considered excessive for the ton. You would have laughed at the idea of this. Or to be honest, wouldn’t have even been able to imagine having an entire parade to accompany you a couple of blocks down the street.

And of course, you could not forget the icing on the cake-the largest carriage you had ever seen. The one you saw in France could not compare and certainly not the one in England. This one was completely enveloped in gold from top to toe-or rather from roof to wheels. On the top of the roof, there were golden cherubs holding up an olive branch and flowers.

It was a harsh reminder that Friedrich, someone who you had grown to identify as your friend over the last several hours, was also the firstborn son of the King, heir apparent to the throne. And you were his wife. Whatever agreement you had made with each other in private was not valid in the public eye. Here, you were a Princess. The Princess.

As Friedrich watched you marvel in the magnificence of the royal parade, he turned to Heinrich with a last minute decision. Well last minute for his father and valet but not for him. Friedrich had wanted to visit his mother for ages.

“I’m heading to my mother’s. We’ll catch up with the staff afterwards and meet you at the Berlin Palace.”

All of this was not on the schedule his father had drawn out and Friedrich was well-aware. He had even cancelled the state train that Friedrich specifically ordered to Potsdam just to make sure he would not take you here first. But Friedrich was not one to lose.

At the same time, however, he knew that his valet was absolutely terrified of his father, as did most people. Soon enough, when his father found out that his son was not on the train to Berlin and was nowhere near the Royal Palace, he would definitely not be happy.

“But your Highness, we really must get going now or we won’t reach Berlin by noon.”

“If he asks, just blame it on me. I’ll be in and out in one hour.”

Heinrich didn’t say anything after that, just nodded. For that, Friedrich was thankful, he did not want to ruin this magical moment for you. It was not going to be this magical for long.

As Heinrich left with your staff, Friedrich turned back to you. “Y/N?”

“I-Is this for us?”

The look on your face made him laugh. Your jaws were grazing the floors, your eyes slowly sweeping across the scene then glanced at him and back to the carriages again.

“I believe it is,” he smiled, offering you his arm.

…

The entire ride back to the Palace was essentially just for you to fathom the welcome wagon.

You could barely string a sentence together, nodding along as Friedrich picked out places that he mentioned in his stories last night, especially enthusiastic about the candy shop he was never allowed to go in.

Potsdam was charming. You could certainly imagine a very fulfilling and peaceful existence here where it wasn't hectic like London but not entirely placid like the countryside.

Just when you thought you could not be more impressed, you arrived at Sanssouci Park.

When Ilse briefly mentioned it, you had expected a park. Like Hyde Park or Regent’s Park or the little garden behind your house that your parents insisted was a park. Whatever you had imagined, however, could not hold a candle to what it was in reality.

“Welcome to Sanssouci Park,” Friedrich said casually, casting a brief look out the windows while your eyes were completely glued to the towering gates opening up for your parade to pass through.

The name was not meant to refer to a park. It was definitely not a park. It was a bloody forest. As you entered the road lined with dense trees, the temperature dropped slightly with the shade, effectively cooling you both from the outside in.

“This is what you call a park? Whatever do you two think of Hyde Park then? A child’s sandbox?”

Before he could answer, your attention was quickly captured by a glimpse of something magnificent as the carriage passed a gap between the tree trunks. You pointed towards the dash of yellow you’d seen. “Is that where your mother lives?”

Friedrich followed your gaze and promptly nodded. “That’s Sanssouci Schloss. Here is the back of it.” Just on cue, the carriage rounded the corner and headed towards the back of the Palace.

Your jaws were officially off now as your eyes feasted on the very picture of splendor.

From personal observations, people usually spent a great deal of time and fortune on making the fronts of their homes as extravagant as possible. It was all in the face, as they said. But not here. Here, even the rear side was grand.

There was a huge water fountain in the middle of the yard, the blue sky printed on the surface. Naturally, your eyes followed straight ahead, past the window behind Friedrich’s head towards the most elaborate set of marble stairs you’d ever seen. On either side were tall walls of hedges and rose bushes that covered the hillside.

“Can we walk up those steps?”

Friedrich turned to look at the steps and then back at you again.

It was not a steep hill. More of a gentle slope but exactly because of that, the steps were long and the landings were wide. Anyone in breeches would find it challenging enough as it was. But you were in a gown, in the sweltering July heat and you were volunteering to walk. “You can. People usually go straight to the entrance though. Are you certain you’d want to walk? It is a long way.”

You nodded, brushing off his concerns. All you cared about was the sight.

Per your request, the carriage stopped right before the grand stairs to Sanssouci Palace. You and Friedrich got out of the carriage.

From where you stood, you had to crane your neck up slightly to be able to see the Palace up the top. The strip of yellow you’d seen from afar turned out to be much more intricate than you’d expected. Beautiful white windows lined the yellow walls, right in the center was an oval shaped room with a cyan dome on top, perfectly aligned with the stairs. Even though it only had one story, its width certainly made up for its height, stretching across the hill.

As you walked ahead, Friedrich decided to stall a little bit. Memories of endless summer days spent on these lawns came flooding back.

He had missed this.

The last time he was here was the summer before he left for England. It was actually here that his aunt Charlotte came to visit with an invitation to Cambridge-the day that changed his life.

And now he was here with you. Someone he had dreaded to marry a mere few days before. Now a dear friend to him.

Straight in front of him, you were marching up the steps with admirable determination, your hands holding onto your skirt, lifting it off the ground. With sun on your skin and wind in your hair, you laughed and told him to hurry up. For that split second, he wished he was not just your friend. Though he discarded that thought as quickly as it came, it stayed stuck in the back of his mind as he matched your pace.

“These are a lot of steps,” you remarked after the first flight of stairs was behind you. There were at least five more ahead. The excessively wide spaces between each step did not help with the general morale either.

“I did warn you,” he chuckled. “It was too exhausting a trip that Marie Antoinette rode a horse up these steps after her stroll in the garden.”

You paused for a moment.

Friedrich thought you were imagining the French queen trotting up the steps with her stallion. But as it turned out, he was wrong.

“Did he invite her over during one of the military clashes between Prussia and France?”

To say that Friedrich did not expect that was an understatement. You had told him you read but he never asked for the specifics on what exactly you were interested in. At that moment, he simply thought you’d be interested in a made-up tale to forget about the stairs. He did not think for a moment you’d be interested in foreign conflicts enough to know the feud between Prussia and France. He knew he certainly wasn’t as a student.

“You can’t fool me. I know,” you said, laughing at the shock on his face.

Pleasantly impressed, he remarked, “Full of surprises I see.”

“You’ll see that in this friendship,” you motioned between yourselves, “you’re not the only one who can shock.”

He gave you a nod, lowering his eyes and watched his steps before he murmured to himself. “Friendship, yes.” He reminded himself of how grateful he was to be your friend. And that maybe pining over you for the rest of his life was better than having you hate him.

If there was one thing for certain, it was that you two would not repeat his parents’ mistakes.

“Darling!”

The voice caused Friedrich’s eyes to snap upwards, slightly alarmed as they weren’t expected on this side of the Palace. Everyone was supposed to be at the front.

The first thing he saw was that you had stopped as well, only standing two steps above him. And then, on the top flight, he saw his mother, waving at him. She wasn’t supposed to greet them outside. At the same time though, he wouldn’t expect her to wait that long for anything anyways.

He waved back with a laugh. She hadn’t changed one bit since the last time he saw her nearly a year ago. A straw sunhat on top of her head, a basket of flower and gardening tools in her hand.

“I-is that-“

Friedrich nodded. “Yes, that’s her. That’s my Mama.”

The nervous jitters came back to you. You knew how much his mother meant to him. She was the true hero of his childhood and you were just excited to meet her. However, you also knew that in no way was this arrangement made by her. And no matter how friendly you were with Friedrich, as his mother, she would not easily trust you.

You quickly masked your nervousness with a gentle smile. It was the safest route after all. Better look like a smiley fool than a grumpy idiot. You thought.

The Queen began to walk down the steps briskly, meeting you halfway up the last flight of stairs. Immediately, she threw her arms around Friedrich, pulling him into a bear hug. “There you are, you Gänschen! You’ve kept your mother waiting long enough!” She said, messing up his hair and only letting go of him once he was shaking with laughter.

When he and your maids said she was very carefree in private, you did not expect her to be this carefree. A lady was not supposed to be out in the sun like this, no less a queen. She was also much more beautiful than you could ever imagine, with her honey blonde curls tumbling down her back in waves and her big blue eyes which were now on you.

“Apologies, Mama,” he stepped back, allowing you to take a step forward. “This is Y/N, my wife. And Y/N, this is my Mama.”

“It is such an honor to meet you, your Majesty,” you said, bending your knees into a curtsy, praying you wouldn’t stumble backwards and ruin the first impression.

You had an overwhelming want for her to like you. And you felt like this first meeting was of paramount importance in deciding that. If it did not go well, she would never see you as anything more than a girl her son was forced to marry. And that was terrifying even in the case where Friedrich remained a good friend.

You were not wrong. Frederica did not expect much from a match made by Louis, a man who clearly did not know his own son or even cared to try. Assuming he did know his son, it would not even be of any matter at all. The only thing he had ever cared about was grooming an heir. This arrangement, no doubt, served that.

But Frederica could not ignore the large smile on her son’s face as he ascended the steps with this young lady.

That? That was not by design.

Frederica shook her head and offered you her hand to help you stand up straight. “I prefer Frederica. At least when we are not in court.”

She gave you a cheeky wink and plucked a gardenia from her basket, tucking it by your ear. “Come on now! I am sure it has been a long trip for the both of you. Let us have some tea before you go.”

...

Frederica led the both of you into the Palace through the doors into the oval room. Inside it was just as spectacular as its exterior. Tall columns held up the painted dome where a chandelier was hung. The three arched windows looking out to the gardens were pushed open by three footmen, allowing sunlight and fresh air to gush into the space, lightening up the entire room.

“Please have a seat, dears,” Frederica said, gesturing to the rounded table in the middle of the room.

You were still too in awe to be able to settle down calmly in your seat but obeyed her anyways. Beside you, Friedrich was glancing around the room, like he was in search of something.

“Is Fifi not here?” he asked as a butler approached the table with a cake stand.

Just on cue, Fifi-his mother’s Schnauzer, shot through the doors. You nearly gasped out of sheer excitement when you saw the ball of salt and pepper fur fly into the room like an arrow. You had always shared a fondness for dogs. Yet you never had one. The only dogs you had were your father’s hunting hounds and he made sure you remained far away from them.

“Speak of the devil...” Friedrich turned to you, “this is Fifi, hated by most but very loved by my mother. Mostly because she smells like fish.”

He kept his eyes on the dog as she strolled around, heading in your direction and getting alarmingly close. “Fifi!” he said, shooing her off. The dog didn’t care, just kept on going forward.

“Oh, it’s quite alright! I love dogs,” you said, fighting the urge to pet Fifi who was quietly sniffing at the hem of your skirt.

Frederica was absolutely surprised when she saw her Schnauzer so quiet. Her dog was not friendly with strangers. By this time there should have been an accident.

The delayed accident happened right after that. Fifi bit down on your dress, tugging at it playfully.

More surprising, however, you didn’t seem scared of the feisty little old thing either. You just laughed.

“Fifi! Leave the poor girl alone!” Frederica said, tapping her shoes against the floor.

Friedrich quickly leaned forward and picked her up. Being lifted off the ground, she released your skirt and focused on wiggling out of Friedrich’s grasps instead. When she eventually succeeded, Fifi headed back to you, circling your feet, her tail wagging.

Friedrich clicked his tongue, about to bend over again to shoo Fifi off. Not that she would care. But the dog plopped down between your chair and his mother’s, out of Friedrich’s reach.

She looked up at you with big eyes, begging for a pet, which you were happy to provide. You reached down and scratched her ears. It was all rather brave, if he must admit.

“I know it is hard to believe but she seems fond of you,” Frederica mused, seeing Fifi transform into a whole other dog under your touch. She was not usually this sweet.

Friedrich scoffed. “The devil almost ripped her skirt off,” he gestured to the hem of your dress, and glared at Fifi.

“It’s fine, honestly. I think it was a compliment if anything,” you said with a smile.

He sighed. “Don’t defend the perpetrator! She has a terrible temperament. And you know it,” he turned to his mother.

“Fifi does. as much as I love her,” Frederica nodded. Fifi’s ears perked up at the mention of her name, blinking at her owner. “But you seem like a very experienced animal whisperer.”

“No, actually. I never had one.”

“Well, that’s a shame. You’re great with Fifi. And if you can handle her, you can handle any dog.”

“Any dog is better than Fifi,” Friedrich said under his breath. Nevertheless, he was glad to see the two of you bond. Even if it was over Fifi the Ferocious.

On the bright side, at least she wasn’t coming back with them to Berlin. It was the only thing Friedrich and his father had ever had in common-a dislike for the Schnauzer.

...

Heinrich was being escorted into the Palace towards the audience room. A place he would much prefer not to go to on his own. He had arrived for over an hour and still you two were nowhere to be found and it was only for so long he could hide the train of carriages. Eventually, one of the butlers alerted the King of his presence and he was immediately requested inside.

Heinrich had suspected that you would arrive slightly late. He just didn’t think it could be this late. He had no idea what he was supposed to say. One misstep and off with his head.

When the doors to the room were swung open, the King was throwing a fit. His deafening yell rang across the room and bounced against the tall walls. It certainly did not help with the nerves.

“WHERE IS MY HORSE?” he demanded, rising up from the throne. From where he stood, he towered over the poor footman. “I am late for hunting!”

“Your Majesty, you cancelled today’s hunt.”

“And why on earth would I do that?”

Heinrich kept quiet, remaining invisible as he approached the throne behind the butler. He was not about to be caught in the middle of a crossfire during one of the King’s fits.

The footman blinked. Heinrich could see the man debating whether or not to answer, lest it was a rhetorical question.

“B-because the Prince is back from England, sir?”

“Oh,” the King said. His voice quieter than before and sat back down again. The crease between his Majesty’s eyebrows disappeared, his expressions softening slightly. Then he turned to the footman with a quizzical look. “And where is the Prince?”

The footman turned around and met Heinrich’s eyes. And then the King followed his gaze. So much for not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

“I-“ Heinrich began, his mind drawing a blank.

If he were to tell the truth, Friedrich and you would no doubt be in trouble. However, if he didn’t tell the truth, he’d be in trouble and so would you two. And if he just said he didn’t know, he’d be on the first ship to an island far far away.

“Well?” The King barked.

“I’ll go get them, your Majesty!”

“Don’t just stand there. Hurry along then! Before I chop all of your heads off.”

Heinrich had never walked so fast out of a room his entire life. His heart was pounding as it began to dawn on him that he had just lied to the King. Well, it was not exactly a lie. He was going to get them. They just weren’t here yet. Unfortunately, none of that mattered. There was no reasoning with such a powerful man. All he could do was hope that he would still be alive to see another day.

Just when all of his luck appeared to have run out, he heard the distinct sound of hooves against cobble and rushed outside.

Friedrich helped you out of the carriage, still engaged in the never-ending tales of Fifi the Ferocious. You were laughing when you caught sight of the magnificent Royal Palace-Berliner Schloss. It was much boxier than Sanssouci Schloss with towering walls that casted a great shadow over the front lawn.

Household staff lined the steps on either side, straightening up as Heinrich dashed past them. Some had their heads turned, the younger ones especially, their curious eyes on you, trying to catch a glimpse of the new Princess. The more seasoned staff near the top stayed perfectly still, resisting the urge to look anywhere other than straight ahead.

“Your Highnesses!” He said, bowing so quickly you were worried his head might snap off. “Your presences are requested. Immediately!”

...

Through the doors you could faintly hear your titles being announced. Your palms were clammy so you hid it behind you, focusing on what you might say in a couple of moments.

Friedrich was not nervous, of course.

He was the one who planned the detour in the first place. And while you had enjoyed the time with Frederica very much, perhaps a little too much, it had delayed your schedule by well over a couple of hours. It meant that you made the King of Prussia, your father-in-law wait.

The only person more nervous than you was probably Heinrich. Every time you caught a glimpse of his face, he seemed more haggard than the last. You were not certain whether he was really sick or just worried.

"My father will say things. Things that are aimed to test you. Do not mind any of it," Friedrich said quietly.

"Something tells me I should take that as a suggestion. One look at Heinrich and I know what I am in for."

Friedrich sneaked a glance at his valet and gave you a small smile. "Heinrich has always been that way. Worries a little too much."

"Maybe that is for good reason-"

The trumpets sounded, prompting you to straighten up, smooth your dress and put on a smile. In the corner of your eyes, you could see Friedrich cracking up. Had it not been for the fact that you were being presented right then, you would have given him a slipper to the chest. He was still smiling up until you had to walk through the doors.

Then, his demeanor shifted completely. You did not dare to make eye contact with the King. All you saw was brief glimpses of a man, wearing a red cloak on the throne. But Friedrich, he was looking straight down the room, challenging his father.

From the stories he had told you, you knew that Friedrich had a rough relationship with his father. Once he got a chance to break away, he vowed he would allow his father to have full control of his life again. And from the suffocating tension in the air, you knew his father would not make it easy.

“The Prince and Princess of Prussia, your Majesty,” a footman announced.

"Your Majesty," you said, giving the King a curtsy.

"Welcome, welcome. I hope the journey was not too rough for you.”

You smiled and nodded. Not a bad start.

However, it was a completely different story when you saw Friedrich’s face. He raised his eyebrows, clearly unconvinced by his father’s concern. "You do, father? Wasn’t it on your orders that the state train never arrived?”

“Now, now, Friedrich. That was none of my doing.” The King turned to you with a small smile. “I must say, you are much prettier than I expected, my lady.”

He had made such an effort to emphasize the last two words that even if you weren’t listening, you still would have caught them. The King was smirking on his throne, his icy eyes sending chills down your back.

“I believe it’s your Highness, father.”

This row was your fault. You could tell.

“No, I don’t think it is. You didn’t get married.”

“We did.”

“That did not count.”

“How? Because you weren’t invited?”

“I see all of your manners have gone out the door since you stepped foot out of this country.”

Friedrich wanted to scoff. It was always going to be about England. If they were going to have this conversation, he was going to do it properly. But not in front of you.

He turned to Heinrich. “Take the Princess to see the chambers.”

You didn’t want to leave. You were responsible for this in one way or another. You should be here to take the blame. But Friedrich shook his head like he knew what you were about to say. “Come with Heinrich. I’ll meet you later.”

“No need for that. Lady Brandt, your chief lady-in-waiting, will take you for a tour. Bernadine?”

You remembered Lea and Ilse mentioning her as well. However, at that time, she didn’t have a name or a face for you to attach her to just yet. You just knew that she was going to be in charge of all of your affairs like Heinrich was doing for Friedrich. Now she had a name and a face.

At the mention of her name, she nodded and stepped forward from the line of staff on your right. She was dressed in a blood red dress, a strand of pearls wrapped around her long neck. She came towards you, giving you an impressive curtsy, tipping her head forward slowly yet keeping her hat perfectly still on her dark raven hair.

When she looked up, you were finally able to see her striking hollow eyes, tall cheekbones and an ever so slightly upturned corner of her lips. She looked awfully familiar. Like a much younger version of your mother actually. And she was just as terrifying.

“Come with me, your Highness.”

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[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam's who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he's not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Read Part 2

---

After everything that happened with the Flag Smashers and the GRC, Bucky thought that laying low with Sam in Louisiana was a good idea. He had been looking for a fresh start anyway. Between losing Steve and making his last amends, New York as of late had only been full of sad memories and regrets. Louisiana was so different- slower paced and fresh, no negative feelings. No feelings at all, actually. Sam was more than understanding, letting him stay with them until he found a semi-permanent place here.

Currently, Bucky was staring out the window, watching the breeze make little waves in the grass as he ate his sandwich. Sarah and the kids had gone out to the boat, making the house feel virtually abandoned. There was too much space and not enough people. For just himself, it was only a reminder that he would continue to stay as he always had- alone.

Sam walked into the kitchen where Bucky was, effectively breaking his train of thought. He raised an eyebrow at Sam’s mischievous smile- or maybe it was a regular one. He always looked like he was up to something, at least to Bucky.

“Great news,” Sam started. “I just got off the phone with a friend of mine. She’s moving down here for some work and is looking for someone to live on the property with her.”

“She?” Bucky questioned.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking but before you say anything else, let me explain. So she already bought the house, it’s less than 10 minutes from here so you can still see us whenever you want. The property’s a couple acres so it’s got tons of space. It comes with an apartment over the shed, so you don’t have to share walls. She keeps to herself so she won’t bother you,” Sam said, counting the pros on his fingers as he talked.

“And the best part is: you don’t need to pay rent. I explained the situation, with you being a hero to the world and all, and she said as long as you can help her out with the heavy-duty stuff like taking care of the property and the occasional repair, you don’t have to worry about it.”

Bucky eyed the couch that had been his home for the past several weeks. Don’t get him wrong- being here with the boys was fun. Unfortunately though, he was still in a place in his life where he needed time to think, heal and meditate. The nightmares, although less frequent, were still occurring. Sam was always supportive, but Bucky didn’t want to keep putting him out. Sam noticed the hesitation and spoke.

“You don’t have to decide right now, but she’s moving here in a few days and could at least use some help. She said we could go look at the property now- no pressure though. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

Bucky paused a moment before nodding.

“Okay, let’s go.”

---

Sam turned into a dirt driveway lined with low hanging trees on one side and a field on the other. Bucky wouldn’t have even noticed it if not for the mailbox on the street.

“See, well this is perfect for you, it’s back in the cut.” Sam said.

Bucky could understand from context clues that that meant secluded. Probably.

It took a few seconds down the driveway before the trees on the left cleared and the water was visible. On the other side, there was a light green house with white trim. With the typical Southern architecture and porch, it was the picture perfect place to live. No neighbors- just trees and water.

Sam whistled as they pulled up at the end of the driveway by the house. Now that they were closer, Bucky could see the large garage on the opposite side of the driveway. It almost looked like another house but much smaller, and with a small dock in the water. The bottom floor of the garage had two large doors that opened upwards, and one regular doorway. The top floor had several windows with curtains in them, shrouding the inside. Getting out of the car, Bucky walked around the car to where Sam was opening the door to the garage.

Going in to inspect the garage, Bucky blinked to adjust to the dim light. He looked around to find several yard tools, some cans of paint on shelves, and a riding mower. On the back wall was a door. Hearing a rustle, he turned to find Sam feeling up on the highest shelf.

“Found it!” He said triumphantly, holding the key to the apartment up.

Walking over to the door on the back wall, Sam unlocked it and pulled it open. Bucky poked his head through the doorway and looked up to the staircase at his left. He turned to meet Sam’s eye, who shrugged before gesturing to Bucky to take the lead. It led up to the top floor of the garage, which was fitted with an apartment that turned out to be nicer than he thought.

It was simple but in good condition. Dark hardwood floor, white trim, pale steel blue walls. Where they had walked up was the living room. Directly across from it was a kitchen area with a veranda to walk out on. The open space then shrunk to a hallway to the left. The bathroom being the first door and a bedroom at the end of the hall. Overall, plenty of space for one person.

“I don’t know about you Buck, but this place seems perfect.” Sam said as he opened the glass sliding door to the veranda. It overlooked the undisturbed landscape, hidden from the nearby town.

“It does.” Bucky responded simply.

He took a moment to walk out onto the veranda with Sam and view the birds wading through the water.

“Well good,” Sam said with a chuckle. “This way, you can stop hitting on my sister.”

Bucky laughed and punched him in the arm. Sam feigned physical and emotional injury.

“Haha, Very funny.”

Sarah was a nice gal, but focused on her life at the moment. Sure, there had been a few sparks, but ultimately she had made it clear that her priority at the moment was her boys and her business. Bucky had been a good sport about it. It just felt good to be back in the game without it feeling forced.

Sam watched as Bucky stared out at the water before switching to a serious note.

“So… You feel like you’re ready?”

Bucky slowly nodded.

“Yeah. This is it.”

Sam smiled wide as he handed the key over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Welcome home.”

---

Bucky had very few belongings from New York that came with him. A small wooden table with chairs. A few books. A bed, a couch, a TV. There wasn’t really a whole lot that couldn’t be replaced if needed. He had been able to take the trip to and from in a few days, already moving his belongings into the apartment. The only big thing he had done was bring Steve’s old Harley out of storage. He probably should get a car at some point since it wasn’t the city anymore but he’d figure it out.

After saying goodbye to Sarah and the kids, Bucky opened the door to Sam's truck.

“Promise you’ll visit?” shouted one of the boys before clinging to him.

Bucky smiled and patted the kid on the back.

“Of course, I will.” He said, looking at the other boy before gesturing for him to join the hug.

“Uncle Buck’s not going anywhere boys,” Sam promised across the center console from the driver’s side.

Both boys eventually peeled off of Bucky’s side. He got in the truck and rolled down the window.

“Be good for your mom okay?” He said to the boys as he waved and nodded at Sarah, who smiled back as the truck started.

“Okay, bye!” They shouted until Bucky could no longer see them in side view mirror.

He really would miss those kids.

They drove in comfortable silence until they pulled up to the house where a light blue sedan was parked next to a storage pod that had been delivered. After parking by it, they exited the truck as you were stepping out of your car.

“Sam!” You exclaimed cheerfully, as you went in for a hug. He lifted you slightly off the ground and you laughed, smiling wide. Bucky stood to the side and observed the interaction, giving you a once-over. You were dressed appropriately for the work you were about to do- light-wash high-water jeans, a white t-shirt with a chest pocket, canvas shoes, and hair up in a slightly messy bun with a few gold bobby pins thrown in to hold back any loose wisps of hair.

After Sam set you down, he turned to Bucky and introduced you.

“… and we met during a charity event that Tony hosted. She offered her services free of charge to help us raise money for the VA.”

You held a hand out to Bucky.

“It’s very nice to meet you! Thanks so much for helping me move in, I really appreciate it.”

Bucky smiled lightly and nodded as he shook your hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

You smiled and took back your hand before looking at the house.

“Shall we?” You inquired, gesturing towards the storage pod.

“Of course,” Sam replied, opening the door to the pod. As Bucky looked inside, he noted that it was mostly just boxes. The noticeable items were the same as his: the bare minimum- besides a fancy electric piano.

“How’re you gonna fill up this house with a few pieces of furniture?” Sam joked.

“Hey, it’s better than having too much stuff! Besides, don’t guys always say that women have too much stuff?” You quip back as you reach for one of the larger boxes in the pod.

“Ah-ah-ah, no you don’t,” Sam said as he intercepted you and picked up the box.

“Oh, c’mon Sam. I’ll feel bad if I make you guys do all the heavy stuff.”

“You’re not making us do anything. Besides, I’ll be fine, and the old man could use some exercise,” he said, nodding towards Bucky.

You smiled timidly at Bucky.

“I have a bad shoulder.” You explained while gripping the top of your right arm.

“I get what that feels like,” he sympathized, nodding to his metal arm.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry, it’s not nearly as bad-”

Bucky cut you off.

“Don’t be sorry. If it’s hurting you, don’t worry about it. We can handle it.” He said gently, pausing for a moment before continuing.

“Or at least I can.”

Sam tilted his head back and feigned hurt feelings while you picked up a lamp base and shook it lightly at him.

“Does this meet your approval, Mr. Wilson?” You asked teasingly.

“Why yes, yes it does. Now come on.”

He walked into the house, you right on his heels. Bucky eyed the two of you together for a moment before picking up a few boxes himself.

---

A few hours later, he was sitting on the worn leather couch next to Sam while you went to get them some drinks in the kitchen. You appeared under the white trimmed archway into the living area holding three glasses.

“One sweet tea for the guest, one lemonade for my new neighbor, and a half and half for the gracious host.” You said, holding up your glass after handing the others out.

You three clinked glasses and you sunk into a sage green armchair with dark wood.

“So… how does this work?” Bucky asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Mmm, yes.” You said, swallowing the sip you had taken.

“Uhm, basically whenever you’re not off saving the world with Captain America,” You started, smiling with pride at Sam. “If you could just make sure the grass doesn’t get too long and help me with some of the more physically demanding repairs and jobs around the house, that’d be great. Of course, that only applies if you’re here, and even then, as long as it’s not urgent, you can take your time getting around to it. Other than that, you’re free to do as you please.”

“That’s very generous of you.” He remarked.

“Well, don’t say that yet,” you said while laughing. “The property is huge so it might be more of a challenge than you think. But like I said, there’s no need to rush to anything. Besides, I should be thanking you. You’ve done a lot for the world.”

Sam interjected before Bucky could respond, which was okay because he still wasn’t used to accepting thanks instead of apologizing.

“Where’s my thank you for saving the world?”

You rolled your eyes and sarcastically rattled off a thank you. Bucky cleared his throat after a moment.

“Anything you want me to start working on?”

“Oh, please get settled in first. I have some furniture getting delivered that I might need help assembling in a few days but otherwise, there’s nothing else. If you have any expenses like paint or tools, you can just use this card and let me know.” You said, handing over a credit card.

“We should also exchange phone numbers too. What’s yours?”

Bucky stalled a moment before rattling off the numbers. It was a foreign feeling- giving out his phone number. He was most definitely having PTSD from his therapist chucking his phone at him. He watched as you typed away on your phone. Feeling his phone ping, Bucky looked at it and saw a message from an unregistered number.

“Hi, It’s me :)”

“That’s my number. Obviously.”

Bucky nodded his head in thanks while registering your number. It had been a while since he had added anyone’s number. You and Sam started talking about something else while Bucky exited back to the main list of contacts. There, your name was italicized and highlighted at the top. What a strange feeling.

…

Later that night, Bucky was relaxing, enjoying the peace. It was warm for autumn, and the water was reflecting the moonlight. He couldn’t sleep. Not that that was surprising. He walked out of the apartment down to the small dock to sip on a beer and celebrate his newfound independence. Sitting on the edge where his feet barely touched the water, he leaned back onto his hands and took a deep breath in.

That’s when he heard it.

Just barely, with his enhanced hearing, he could hear your crying. It was like you were wailing in pain. Not a sharp new pain, but an intense never ending one. The kind that you hear from an animal that’s been maimed- the kind you put out of their misery. Whatever you were holding in, it had been building up for an impossibly long time and finally, exhausted, you found a chance to let it out. Being able to hear it felt like a dirty invasion of privacy.

Bucky swallowed and took another deep breath before trying to focus on the sound of the wildlife around him. But it was no use. Here you were. Here he was.

No longer the only runaway seeking refuge.

[avvidstarion]

ok here it is here's ruthie and carrion <3

It’s always awkward running into old friends, especially if they have a blade pressed to your throat and you had just tried to rob them blind.

Carrion had found himself in quite a few predicaments over the years, but never one quite like this. He prided himself on his intelligence and his planning capabilities; one does not run the most successful thieving crew the Capital City has ever seen without the ability to think things through. Impulsiveness was a foreign concept to him– until, for whatever reason, today. 

He blamed the beautiful woman. Beautiful women always made his head spin, especially when they seemed to be easy marks. He saw her in the Main Street marketplace, which he frequented not because he had a fondness for shopping (which, admittedly, he did; the only feeling better than stealing coins was spending them) but rather because Main Street was high-end, and rich people were stupid and, well, rich. Carrion was there for business, not for pleasure.

The beautiful girl, on the other hand, was there for anything but business. Carrion easily marked her as a tourist after tailing her for just a few yards, noting her Bayou accent and her apparent wonder at sightst that anyone who lived in the Capital City would find mundane. She paid no mind to her bulging coin purse except for when she was paying for something. An easy, easy mark, Carrion decided. 

But perhaps he was jumping to conclusions. If he had been using that intelligence of his, he might’ve noticed that the way she carried herself– gracefully, purposefully– spoke of someone with at least a little bit of martial training. If he had been paying attention to her body (which he was, just not in the “thief sizing up his mark” way), he would have noticed the toned muscles and steady hands that spoke of someone with more than a little bit of martial training. 

If he had bothered to retain what he read in the morning paper, he would have remembered a headline that announced that a woman from the Bayou was visiting the Capital City. A very important woman. Champion-of-a-god, savior-of-a-town level of importance. And she was visiting so she could be crowned as a Lord.

And perhaps he could have inferred that this woman was so unguarded not because she was naive, but because she knew she could handle herself in a fight, should a stupid, smitten tiefling decide to do something impulsive.

But, again, beautiful women always made Carrion’s head spin, and he felt drawn to this particular beautiful woman, so instead of taking the time to size her up properly he tried to pick her pocket the moment she walked onto a sparsely populated side street. 

Which led to his predicament. Because as soon as he reached out to rob her, she whirled around, grabbed him by the collar of his coat, and swept his legs, making her the only thing holding him up. She also had a sword leveled at his throat– a sword that definitely was not on her person a moment before.

“Uh, hello,” Carrion said after a moment. “So, funny thing. I was setting out to rob you, but it seems there is now a major complication to my admittedly impulsive plan.  Namely your sword, which is pretty close to cutting my throat, which would be a shame because I do love the sound of my own voice. Also, I think we know each other.” It was true– there was something about her face that pulled at his memories.

The woman blinked. “Is that supposed to be some kind of line? ‘Cause it ain’t workin’.” Yeah, her accent was definitely Bayou, alright. She was probably from the heart of Grimmurk itself, nestled right in the center of the swamps. 

Carrion laughed slightly, raising his hands. “Trust me, even I know that there’s a time and place for flirting, and this is absolutely not it. I’m being serious. What’s your name?”

Not lowering her sword, the woman studied his face. “My name’s Ruthie,” she said slowly. “Although I don’t–”

Suddenly, it hit him. There was something about her freckled, round face that he recognized: she had a cleft lip! She had a cleft lip and she was from the Bayou! He knew her!

“Wait! Is your last name Langtree? Does your family live in Grimmurk, next to a house that used to belong to an old-as-dirt tiefling woman? A tiefling woman whose two nephews would come and visit every summer? I think we used to make mud pies together as kids.”

Ruthie’s face lit up. “Carrion?” 

“Yeah!”

With a flourish, she vanished her sword into a puff of mist and hauled Carrion back up to a standing position, right into a bear hug. Then, suddenly, she pulled back. “Wait, you were just tryin’ to rob me. I ain’t gonna hug you.”

Carrion smiled, rubbing the spot on his throat where the tip of Ruthie’s sword had dug in. “Deserved, I suppose.”

“But, uh…” Ruthie gave him a once-over that made his cheeks burn, just a little. “Are you…still goin’ by Carrion?” 

Which, Carrion figured, was the polite way to ask, “Hey, you were definitely not a guy the last time we saw each other, like, ten-ish years ago, so has that changed?”, to which Carrion would have to respond, “Well, you yourself definitely were a guy the last time we saw each other, and that’s definitely changed, so it seems we’ve swapped places.”

But that would be uncouth, and Carrion prided himself on his way with words, so all he actually said was: “Carrion’s still good. I guess we’re both pretty different now, huh?”

Ruthie laughed. “Yeah, I reckon we are. Not different enough to be unrecognizable, though, but who could forget a face like yours?”

“Who could forget a face like yours?” Carrion purred, putting all his charm into it.

“Okay, now that was definitely a line,” Ruthie said, swatting his arm. “Take me out to dinner first.”

“Are you asking the guy who just tried to rob you out to dinner?”

“I forgive easily. ‘Sides,” Ruthie held up a coin purse– Carrion’s coin purse. “Who doesn’t do a little light pickpocketin’ every now and then?”

Carrion patted down his pockets, knowing it was in vain. “How–”

“Mage hand, bitch. Don’t accept hugs from strangers.”

Holding out his hand, Carrion said, “We’re only partial-strangers. Surely those halcyon summer days meant something?”

Tossing the coin purse back into Carrion’s open hand, Ruthie snorted. “The thirteen years in between meant quite a bit, too, Carri.”

He smiled at the old nickname. “Oh? And would you care to fill me in on the marvelous adventures you’ve been getting up to in the past decade?”

Ruthie looped her arm through his. “Use that coinpurse of yours to buy me dinner and we can do all the catchin’ up you want.”

Carrion laughed. “Alright, Miss Langtree, where to?”

“Wherever you want. Also, my last name isn’t Langtree anymore, it’s St. Cyr.”

St. Cyr. Lord Ruthie St. Cyr. How could Carrion have been so stupid? “Oh, god,” he said, “You’re the girl from the papers. The Champion of Cyr who saved Grimmurk from werewolves. You’re here for your Lordship ceremony.”

With a grin, Ruthie said, “Bet ya wouldn’t’ve tried to rob me had you remembered that.”

“What can I say,” Carrion said as they began to walk back to Main Street, arm-in-arm. “Beautiful women make my head spin.”