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#washington state attractions

hiddengemsreal · 4 months

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Get ready for an adventure in Washington State with "Hidden Gems"! Our video reveals the coolest places you might not have seen before. We check out beautiful towns and uncover secret spots that make Washington super interesting. From huge mountains to charming coastal areas, we're taking you off the usual paths! Dive into the local culture, hear unique stories, and enjoy the stunning views that make Washington State a hidden gem. Discover the extraordinary in the ordinary with "Hidden Gems" as your guide to a whole new side of Washington. Don't miss out—subscribe now for more awesome insights into the hidden wonders that make Washington State truly extraordinary! #hiddengems #ExploreWashington #subscribeformore #trending #washington #HiddenTreasures #WashingtonAdventures #OffTheBeatenPath #DiscoverNature #ExploreLocal #TravelMagic #CharmingTowns #SecretSpots #NatureEscape #LocalCulture #PacificNorthwest #ScenicViews #ExploreMore #TravelInspiration #AdventureAwaits #HiddenBeauties #UnseenPlaces #NatureDiscovery #TravelWithUs #WanderlustJourney #HiddenGemsTravel #LocalExploration #NaturalWonders #ExploreOutdoors #MustVisitPlaces #TravelGoalsNow

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phonemantra-blog · 7 months

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From San Antonio to Seattle: Exploring the Best of the West The Southern Charm of San Antonio Embark on a journey from San Antonio to Seattle and discover the best of the American West. From the southern charm of San Antonio to the majestic beauty of Seattle, this adventure offers a unique blend of history, culture, and natural wonders. Join us as we explore the iconic attractions, indulge in local flavors, and experience the vibrant festivals along the way. [caption id="attachment_60821" align="aligncenter" width="1024"] San Antonio to Seattle[/caption] Explore the Rich History and Cultural Heritage of San Antonio San Antonio, Texas, is a city steeped in rich history and cultural heritage. Known for its role in the Texas Revolution, San Antonio is home to the iconic Alamo, a historic mission that played a significant part in the fight for Texas independence. Visitors can explore the Alamo and learn about its historical significance. Discover the Iconic Attractions like The Alamo and River Walk In addition to the Alamo, San Antonio's River Walk is another must-visit attraction. This picturesque network of walkways along the San Antonio River offers a charming ambiance with its lush greenery, colorful flowers, and quaint bridges. Stroll along the River Walk, take a boat tour, or dine at one of the many riverside restaurants. Indulge in the Vibrant Tex-Mex Cuisine and Local Flavors No visit to San Antonio is complete without indulging in the vibrant Tex-Mex cuisine. From sizzling fajitas to mouthwatering enchiladas, the city offers a variety of flavors that will tantalize your taste buds. Don't forget to try the famous San Antonio puffy tacos, a local specialty that is sure to satisfy your cravings. Experience the Lively Festivals and Events that Showcase the City's Spirit San Antonio is renowned for its lively festivals and events that showcase the city's vibrant spirit. From the colorful Fiesta San Antonio, a 10-day celebration of the city's diverse cultures, to the lively Dia de los Muertos festivities, there is always something happening in San Antonio. Immerse yourself in the local culture and join in the festivities. Embracing the Wild West in Austin and Beyond As you journey north from San Antonio, you'll reach Austin, the capital of Texas, and a vibrant hub of music and culture. Explore the live music scene, with numerous venues showcasing a variety of genres. Take a stroll down Sixth Street, known as the "Live Music Capital of the World," and immerse yourself in the energetic atmosphere. Continue your adventure through Texas Hill Country, a region known for its stunning natural beauty. Hike or bike through the picturesque landscapes, explore the enchanting Hamilton Pool Preserve, or go tubing along the Guadalupe River. Along the way, make sure to visit quirky towns like Luckenbach, known for its country music heritage, and Fredericksburg, where you can explore German heritage and indulge in local wineries and breweries. These charming towns offer a glimpse into the unique culture and history of the Wild West. As you journey further, you'll reach Fort Worth, a city with a rich cowboy culture and history. Visit the Fort Worth Stockyards, where you can witness thrilling rodeos and experience the Western heritage. Explore the historic district, browse through the Western-themed shops, and enjoy a delicious steak at one of the many cowboy-inspired restaurants. The Enchanting Landscapes of New Mexico As you cross the border into New Mexico, prepare to be captivated by its diverse landscapes and rich cultural heritage. Begin your exploration in Santa Fe, a city known for its artistic haven. Stroll through the historic Plaza, filled with art galleries, museums, and adobe-style buildings. Experience the unique blend of Native American, Spanish, and Anglo cultures that make Santa Fe so enchanting. While in New Mexico, visit the Bandelier National Monument, where you can explore ancient pueblo dwellings carved into the cliffs. Hike through the scenic trails and learn about the fascinating history of the indigenous people who once inhabited the area. Continue your journey to Carlsbad Caverns National Park, a natural wonder filled with breathtaking underground caves. Take a guided tour or venture on your own to witness the stunning stalactites and stalagmites that adorn the caverns. Immerse yourself in the vibrant Native American culture in Gallup, known for its Native American art and jewelry. Visit the Acoma Pueblo, one of the oldest continuously inhabited communities in North America, and learn about the traditions and customs of the Acoma people. Before leaving New Mexico, make sure to visit White Sands National Park, a mesmerizing landscape of pure white gypsum dunes. Take a scenic drive or hike through the dunes and witness the stunning contrast against the blue sky. The Majestic Beauty of Colorado As you venture into Colorado, prepare to be amazed by its majestic landscapes. Journey through the stunning Rocky Mountains and explore the vibrant city of Denver. Visit the Denver Art Museum, stroll through the historic Larimer Square, or catch a game at Coors Field, home of the Colorado Rockies. For outdoor enthusiasts, Rocky Mountain National Park offers a plethora of activities. Hike through the scenic trails, spot wildlife, or enjoy a scenic drive along the Trail Ridge Road, the highest continuous paved road in the United States. Experience the historic charm of mining towns like Breckenridge and Leadville. Explore the well-preserved Victorian architecture, learn about the mining history, and enjoy outdoor activities like skiing, snowboarding, or hiking, depending on the season. Marvel at the natural wonders of Garden of the Gods, a park filled with stunning sandstone rock formations. Take a stroll or go rock climbing amidst the towering red rocks. Don't miss the opportunity to visit Pikes Peak, one of Colorado's famous fourteeners, and enjoy panoramic views of the surrounding landscapes. The Pacific Northwest's Urban Gem - Seattle After a thrilling journey through the Wild West, you'll finally arrive in the vibrant city of Seattle. Known for its iconic landmarks, thriving music scene, and natural beauty, Seattle offers a unique blend of urban charm and outdoor adventures. Start your exploration in downtown Seattle at the bustling Pike Place Market. This historic market is a food lover's paradise, with fresh seafood, local produce, and artisanal crafts. Watch the famous fishmongers toss fish, sample delicious treats, and soak in the lively atmosphere. Seattle has a rich music history, and you can immerse yourself in its thriving art scene. Visit the Museum of Pop Culture, dedicated to showcasing the city's musical heritage, or catch a live performance at one of the many music venues scattered throughout the city. While in Seattle, take the opportunity to experience its natural beauty. Explore the nearby Olympic National Park, where you can hike through lush rainforests, admire breathtaking waterfalls, and even soak in natural hot springs. Alternatively, head to Mount Rainier National Park and marvel at the majestic peak of Mount Rainier, surrounded by meadows of wildflowers. No visit to Seattle is complete without a trip to the iconic Space Needle. Take an elevator ride to the top and enjoy panoramic views of the city's skyline, the surrounding mountains, and the sparkling waters of Puget Sound. Don't forget to capture the perfect Instagram-worthy shot! FAQs How long does it take to drive from San Antonio to Seattle? The driving distance from San Antonio to Seattle is approximately 2,300 miles, which can take around 35 to 40 hours, depending on the route and driving conditions. It is recommended to plan for several stops along the way to rest and explore the attractions. What are some must-visit attractions along the way? Some must-visit attractions along the way include The Alamo and River Walk in San Antonio, the Fort Worth Stockyards in Fort Worth, Santa Fe's Plaza and Bandelier National Monument in New Mexico, Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado, and Pike Place Market and the Space Needle in Seattle. Are there any unique cultural experiences in Santa Fe, New Mexico? Absolutely! Santa Fe is known for its unique blend of cultures. You can explore the art galleries and museums in the historic Plaza, visit the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum, immerse yourself in the Native American culture at the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center, and enjoy traditional New Mexican cuisine at local restaurants. What outdoor activities can be enjoyed in Colorado? Colorado offers a wide range of outdoor activities. You can go hiking, biking, or camping in the Rocky Mountains, enjoy skiing or snowboarding in the winter months, go white-water rafting in the Arkansas River, or simply take in the breathtaking scenery while driving through the scenic byways. How can I make the most of my visit to Seattle? To make the most of your visit to Seattle, be sure to explore Pike Place Market, visit the Space Needle for panoramic views, take a ferry ride to Bainbridge Island or the San Juan Islands, explore the vibrant neighborhoods like Capitol Hill and Ballard, and indulge in the city's renowned coffee culture. Conclusion: Embarking on a journey from San Antonio to Seattle is an adventure filled with history, culture, and natural wonders. From the southern charm of San Antonio to the majestic beauty of Seattle, this road trip offers a diverse range of experiences. Explore iconic attractions, indulge in local flavors, and immerse yourself in the vibrant festivals along the way. Whether you're captivated by the history of the Alamo, mesmerized by the landscapes of New Mexico, or enchanted by the urban charm of Seattle, this unforgettable journey will leave you with memories to last a lifetime. So pack your bags, hit the road, and get ready to explore the best of the American West!

#Airlines #attractions #cities #distance #driving #Flights #itinerary #landmarks #road_trip #route #states #Texas #transportation #travel #vacation #Washington

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justdavina · 3 months

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Jessica Starling: Location: Washington State, USA ▶ How long you have been cross dressing : I’ve been dressing for about 5 years long but obsessed with all things fem my whole life.. ▶ Say something about your cross dressing experience: I had put on a few articles of clothing here and there, but after I opened up to my wife about it, she encouraged me to go all out, and I’ve been hooked ever since. ▶Reason you cross dress: I dress because it’s the only time I’ve ever looked at myself and felt attractive. It’s how I’ve always wanted to be.

#trans community #gay fashion #lgbtqia #sexy crossdressers #crossdressgirls #cute crossdreser #crossdresserlife #cross dressing #bi #queer #queer fashion #queer fashion

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harrysonlylover · 1 year

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Carolina (Part 1)

Summary: Her return to town sparks his interest, why hasn’t he seen her before? And does starting off on the wrong foot hide their attraction to each other?

Trope: Cowboy! H

Word count: 10.3k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption.

The west coast.

A place that citizens fawn over and pay their life savings to visit, some even manage the tiredness of flights and its jet lag just to see a glamorized land that is actually worthless.

She asks herself the same question everyday: “ How did I end up here?”. And every day she comes up with a new answer. For a while she was able to blame the whole planet and the Milky Way but later, she swallowed the hard truth and accepted that her fate was nothing but an influence.

Today she chooses to not think about , it is time to go home and despite it being a short period, she has learned to savor it in a memory that she revisits every morning and night.

The road is half empty as her feet rest against the dashboard, she can feel the northern wind pulling her in ,the farther they get away from Washington.

Oh, what a feeling.

Her friend Maggy is driving, allowing her to enjoy the leisure of doing nothing but enjoying the view as they pass through towns then back to Highways.

According to her all roads will eventually lead home.

Home is a farfetched idea for where they are heading, she isn’t exactly visiting her land, but anyplace in the North is home. Wide fields that stretch for acres of land, the friendly faces that can make a stranger find their roots, the animals that become family members, the fresh air and hard-working citizens that know each other since childhood.

There are many things that she can say about the North but afraid of never stopping she closes her eyes and raises the volume of the radio allowing ‘Edge of Seventeen’ by Stevie Nicks to play loudly.

She heads every month or two to Maggy’s hometown Great Falls in Montana, they have been best friends ever since they can remember. Maggy’s father is an old family friend and despite there being a long distance between the two states but they never missed visiting each other.

When she suggested studying at a university in Washington, Maggy’s jaw dropped to the floor, no one expected her to take that decision. But to be fair neither did she, yet what was she supposed to do when she had a fear of never doing something in her life or being stuck in one place.

Everyone spoke of the west coast’s glory, she had to see it herself, at least she wouldn’t regret any decisions later on.That was two years ago, now she dreads every class and every day spent in Washington. Give her a horse to ride, or a goat to care for, perhaps a dog to play with. Some beer while watching the sunset and sitting on the freshly mown grass, her family preparing dinner while her father and uncle quarrel on who makes the best gravy.

She has a week to spend in Montana before returning to Washington, she will learn to hold on to it before getting her BA in Fine Arts and fleeing away from that godforsaken place.

She wishes she can visit her homeland but it would be a waste of time as her entire family follows her up to Montana whenever she is there, they bring home to her, what else can she ask for?

“Home sweet home baby!” Maggy cheers as her car steps into the town’s entrance.

It is almost 4 in the afternoon but the day is still long, no hour is gone to waste in the North. She quickly puts on her brown leather cowboy boots and urges Maggy to stop the car.

“Where are you going, they’re waiting for us!”

“You go using your car, I’d rather walk all the way.” She gives Maggy no time to object before putting on her cowboy hat and running into the Lopez’s corn field.

Her hair is swaying with the wind, it is caressing her skin and cleansing any toxicity that she gained from living in an unpleasant place. She knows the field well after all everyone here is like her neighbor. The sun is out and about, forming a thin layer of sweat on her uncovered skin.

A smile is stuck on her lips as she walks around nearing the end of the field, another walk would not be a good idea as it is dinner time but maybe she’ll return in the evening with Maggy.

She can see the house clearly and begins to head towards it before a sound catches her attention. It is a horse’s hooves clicking against the ground, as far as she knows the Lopez’s do not have any horses.

The corns are tall and high and she is unable to spot it, what if he’s alone or worse.. injured.

She has no time to look, but she knows how to observe so she listens intently but it keeps getting nearer and nearer and nea-

“Hey girl watch out.” A man screams at her as a warning from the horse he’s riding.

He is late to alarm her but she is quick at ducking rapidly before the horse neighs and stands on his two hind legs, the man on its back holds on to him immediately avoiding a dangerous fall.

“Are you out of your mind?! You could have killed me.” She shouts at him as she stands up, removing some of the soil scattered against her skin. Luckily, she is intact but the edge of a fallen leave did graze her skin.

“Well I’m not the one strolling around in a corn field when I know it’s the easier route for workers to take. With horses might I add!” He stepped off the horse, caressing him gently as he scolded the foolish girl in front of him.

“Oh I’m sorry, how about I check your schedule next time?” She answers in a sarcastic tone at the man who she has never seen before.

Would it be bad to ogle a stranger that almost killed her?

He is wearing a cowboy hat just like her but it’s black instead, paired with his leather boots and low waist denims. She is trying really hard to recognize him but her memory fails her. He is shirtless and his skin is covered in tattoos, his abs are toned and are shining under the Northern sun that reflects the thin layer of sweat over a butterfly tattoo. His jeans are not enough to cover his V line or the tattoos peaking from his hips.

His biceps flex with every stretched movement he makes to pet the horse, his entire arms are also filled with tattoos. She is astonished to see a tatted cowboy, but hey there’s a first for everything.

“Oh you think you’re funny girl. Would ya be laughing right now if you were dead?” His northern accent isn’t very thick, but it is enough to show his anger. He was about to check if she is okay physically before she snapped at him and acted almighty.

“Seriously since when do you ride horses in an open field just to take an easier route, when you know that someone might be passing by.” Her tone is making him more furious by the second along with not recognizing her.

“Do not get sassy with me girl, it’s what we agreed on with the acceptance of field owners, even the cows know that.” He scoffed proudly getting back on his horse and fixing his cowboy hat. The black stallion seems to have calmed down a bit and is ready to be on the move.

“Don’t go around trying to get yourself killed, I don’t have all day to watch clumsy girls.” He tipped his cowboy hat and sped off on his horse in the direction he came from.

She can feel herself boiling with anger, and her entire body is dirty from the soil and corn dust, her hair has leaves in it and her hat gained a mini hole. She doesn’t even know who the hell that guy is but she is sure of one thing and one thing only.

No one talks to her that way at home.

She managed to sneak from the back of the house and climb up to Maggy’s window using a ladder that’s always placed in their ranch. She knocked continuously until her freaked out friend opened with a shriek.

“Why are you using the window and what the hell happened to you?”. She helped her get inside and closed the window again.

“Maggy do you know a guy with tattoos?”

She did not care less if her friend is worried about her. She must know who he is.

“W-what? What are you talking about and why are you covered in soil!” Maggy grabbed a towel for her and sprinted to the bathroom to prepare her a bath.

“He’s like shirtless with a butterfly tattoo on his abs and he has a black stalli-“

“Harry Styles.”

“I was walking in the Lopez’s field and then he jumps up on me with his horse out of nowhere and when I shout at him, he acts all smug. Doesn’t even apologise! And apparently the fields are a short route now!” She rants furiously as she paces around the room, aggressively getting a change of clothes and her shampoo from her duffle bag.

Maggy finally calms down after panicking about her friend, now she holds back a laughter fit knowing how Harry is. “First of all I told you about that decision but you were too busy watching The Office and Harry is nice, he’s my childhood friend.”

“Nice is a huge misunderstanding. He thinks he’s so cool, at least offer a sorry?! And he implied that I’m dumb.” Her body relaxes immediately in the ice-cold tub and the Pumpkin bath bomb melts quickly taking away her problems as well.

“Yeah well that’s Harry but once you get to know him he’s really sweet.” Maggy props up her change of clothes nearby and gives her another bath bomb.

“Plus if he’s your childhood friend how come I don’t know him? He didn’t recognize me too.” It is evident that she will not let it go, she hates unexplained situations and the whole ordeal will probably stay on her mind for a while.

“He left before you and I met, it’s quite funny now that I think about it, they were in Tennessee and visited rarely, they came back a while ago. The Styles’ are not to be messed with.”

“I really couldn’t care less, you should’ve seen the way he looked at me. That man is a dick.” She was scrubbing away the soil from her body with a local made loofah. The sun was beginning to set, and the view from the bathroom window facing the tub helped her nerves to calm down.

“Babe, let’s see what’s up later yeah? I’m starving.” It was as if the family knew of Maggy’s suggestion. The two girls overheard the bickering from downstairs about the mashed potatoes and gravy.

She loves home a lot.

The dining table was filled with homemade meals that feel like heaven after long months of Cafeteria lunches. The bath put her at ease and the pumpkin scent lingered around her skin, bringing home closer to her. Maggy’s father and grandmother hugged her tightly like their own as they welcomed her presence in their house.

Soon enough the obnoxious man faded from her mind and she found herself surrounded with loving people that make her heart burst.

“Literally we kept chasing him for a whole hour, I wouldn’t have been surprised if we reached Carolina!” Teddy, Maggy’s brother was telling the story of when his horse escaped and worried everyone.

“Ugh it’d be a shame if he reached Carolina, I would have had to come down there and bring him myself!” She joked, making everyone let out a laughter fit.

“As if you never returned for sillier excuses before.” Teddy replied making her shrug her shoulders like an innocent girl.

“But to be fair, we couldn’t have gotten him without The Styles’ help.” She dropped her spoon at Teddy’s remark and suddenly the gravy was no longer delightful.

“The Styles’ huh? How come I don’t know about them.” She ignored Maggy’s leg bump and continued to question everyone, despite them being clueless.

“Well I’m surprised you don’t. They own half of Montana and Tennessee.” Maggy’s father answered her between mouthfuls of Turkey.

“Harry Styles was the one who helped me get back Ray. He’s the State’s most famous bachelor and cowboy. He kept chasing Ray and reached him before us, then risked his life by standing in front of him but somehow, he managed to tame him. He’s a very talented man.” Teddy gave her a brief rundown on Harry and the more she learns about him the more she gets irritated.

“Oh how I love that cheeky boy.” Maggy’s grandmother mumbled as everyone around the table agreed.

And he’s loved by everyone. Isn’t it just great?

As the sun began to set, she found herself sitting near the barn with a bottle of beer in her hand, the scarlet colour of the sky reflected in her eyes as she fixed her sight on the burning clouds, even the baby goat in her lap was gazing upwards in awe, the shadow of the sun casted an orange paint against her skin. Just the same as the pumpkin bath bomb melting in the bath tub.

Maggy joined her with an enthusiastic smile, that told her all she needs to know. “I’m guessing Tim invited you for a drink?” She smirked at her friend before taking a sip from her beer.

“Invited us, so C’mon missy get dressed, everyone will be there. Time to get some threads loose.” Tim was Maggy’s crush, and she can tell it goes both ways. His family owns the town’s bar so whenever she’s around, her friend drags her there and honestly it’s not so bad.

“Only if you give me the hat you got from Missoula, that asshole ruined mine.” Her hand caressed the baby goat on her lap that is now dozing off to sleep.

“Oh my god, you are unbelievable. Fine whatever get dressed now.” Maggy groaned at her friend’s cheekiness as she knows that she’s after that hat.

“Oh what would I do without you!” She shouted to Maggy who was heading inside the house, her cheek got a bit sore from smiling and she gently wrapped the lamb in her arms, placing him inside before sipping the last drop from her bottle, thinking about what suits that amazing hat.

The Miller’s bar was packed just the right amount for her, she was able to spot friends and neighbours, familiar faces that put her at ease as she greets Tim. The smell of Whisky was lingering in the air, and the choice of songs was tasteful. She did not need guidance nor Maggy’s company, maybe she would’ve if they were back in Washington, but it is different here.

She got another beer bottle and conversed with an old friend as she stood in a corner, it could be just her tipsy mind or her confidence, but she can see how the girl is eyeing her up and down in a seductive way, and she knows exactly why.

She wore beige shorts that suit her tan and give her booty some acknowledgment along with her favourite white tank top that sits above a lace bralette, holding her cleavage perfectly. Her collarbone was prominent, and she smelled of pumpkins. Perhaps the hat is playing a role as well.

She decided to make a move after the girl got dangerously close but instead a commotion nearby interrupted the moment, she groaned internally knowing that Tim has kindly asked of her to keep her eyes around even though nothing ever happens, but isn’t it just her luck?

The sounds were coming from the other side of the bar where the Miller’s installed an electric bull machine as a monument, but what they didn’t expect is the town’s infatuation with it and their constant use of it. Some even had contests with bets and money involved, all was harmless of course and she hoped that is the case now as she headed there.

A group was gathered in front of the machine, and laughter was echoing around the room. She gently passed between them expecting a worst-case scenario and was instead met with the worst person.

The same man who embarrassed her in the field today and posed a risk to her physical safety was in front of her in all his glory, he was still in the same attire and shirtless, but he seems to have washed up and spent some time getting himself tipsy.

There doesn’t seem to be a contest but somehow he got everyone to gather around him and fix their attention on him. He was riding the bull at the highest speed, something that only real professionals can do, he is not completely conscious as well, no one is at a night in Montana.

His system seemed to work well as he acted the same way a non-tipsy man would. His ring clad hands were not holding on to the rope provided by the machine, instead his thin waist moved around along with the thrust of his hips as he stretched his arms wide as an affirmation and demand for the group to cheer.

Only insane people would not hold on to safety ropes at a high speed, but after her encounter with him, she’s not so sure she’ll ever consider him as sane. No one even acknowledged her presence despite being the princess of the town, not a glance in her direction.

His head was thrown back as he urged on the cheering more, his fingers were flexing in demand to raise the tone higher with a sly smirk on his face. One of the girls in the crowd threw a cowboy hat at him that he caught and placed smoothly on his head.

His continuous rutting against the machine, and hips’ roll allowed a boner to appear, and everyone cheered for him even more, his jeans tightened around his thighs due to the amount of weight and pressure he’s placing on his legs in order to balance.

He spotted her in the crowd, and she could’ve sworn that his smirk got bigger, he winked at her the first time, and when she crossed her arms over her chest with an angry expression on her face, he pointed at her and shouted.

“Hey clumsy girl, you should be careful from this bull coming alive and walking over you.” He was making an effort to speak, his voice overpowered by the music made a vein appear in his neck as he shouted loudly.

Despite no one knowing what he means, they laughed thinking it was some sort of joke which made her even angrier, she did not care anymore if the machine was on high speed or if it will actually come to life, she made her way near it and cut off its source of power.

He stumbled forward due to the sudden stop, and everyone murmured and went silent. He was caught off guard with her act, yet he raised his fist up in the air as his way of controlling the cheering that resumed.

He stepped off the bull smoothly and strolled in her direction, and she could see how tall he is, the cowboy hat was still on his head, with some of his curls peaking from beneath it.

“An eye for an eye girl? Fair. I’ll go find another riding activity.” He winked for the second time in a night, and the longer he stands in front of her the more she feels her blood boil.

“Yeah? I’m guessing you have a kink for throwing people off the bed.” She smirked back at him grabbing a new beer bottle.

“Only if they beg for it.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear, taking the bottle from her and having a long sip down his throat, before placing it back in her hand and walking away with a lazy stroll.

This is going to be a long week for her.

The field work waits for no one, ranchers are up from dawn ready for another day consisting of herding, saddling up the horses, checking on machinery, filling up hay wagons along with countless tasks that are no obstacle against Montana’s mighty cowboys.

There are days where the temperature rises rapidly bringing with it an unbearable heat, the same heat that distinguishes these beloved towns from other parts of the country.

She awoke with a fuzzy brain, having no energy to be angry or employ any type of emotion, today her parents would arrive and not being concentrated is the last thing she wants to be.

A simple breakfast skillet made her feel full and got her mind off things she doesn’t want to think about. She’s glad to have brought her sketching kit with her, so she tip toed around Maggy’s bedroom and fetched what she needed before heading out to the ranch.

The sunrise was a scene that she loved to sketch, a never old drawing that she will stack along with the other sunrise paintings she’s done before. And so she begins mixing all the colours varying from scarlet, fiery red, orange, golden yellow, baby blue, and a subtle white that only the delicate eye can catch.

She can’t tell for how long she sat down in front of her sketch; it could’ve been hours or an eternity, but what’s important is that she managed to lose herself in her art like she always did.

Teddy surprised her from behind making her yelp and clutch her hand at her chest, the young boy fell into a laughter fit as she gently pushed him around for scaring her.

“Can you pretty please help us?” He asked of her after calming down and wiping his tears that resulted from his intense laughter.

“You don’t deserve my help for what you did but maybe you can ask”. She rolled her eyes at him in a dramatic way sending a sly smile that tells him about her payback for his prank soon.

“It’s your vacation, so nothing serious. Take Ray and patrol the field, we’ve been experiencing burglars’ shit from out of town. They’ll just escape if they saw someone out there.” She nodded and packed up her kit, giving it to Teddy who was making funny faces at her.

She saddled up Ray and prepared a basket to pick some fresh onions and potatoes, she had planted them herself the last time she was here, and she believes it is time to see how pretty they have become.

The cowboy hat she ‘stole’ from Maggy is shielding her from the scorching heat that she does not mind. She’s a northern girl after all. On the way she hums a melody her mother used to sing for her back when she was a kid, it soothes her and has become another one of her distraction methods.

Ray appeared to be calm and she began to wonder what idiot Teddy did to let him escape a while ago, but if she thinks about it a bit more, her mind will take her to the man who rescued Ray so she begins humming again.

The field is quiet with no companion but the whistle of the wind, the torment of the sun and the steady soil beneath her. Her task is pretty easy compared to what she has done before so she continues patrolling, occasionally patting Ray’s back who seems to be enjoying their little walk.

She closes her eyes for a moment and allows the northern wind to consume her as she breathes in the scent of home coming from Carolina.

Harry had his head tipped back and eyes set towards the blue sky, it was an attempt at easing his hangover that he now regrets deeply. He is a responsible man, never late for work, and never reckless in matters related to his cowboy life outside of entertainment. He was by no means allowed to taint his family name.

What he did yesterday was nothing but some fun after a working day, his friends had lured him inside that bar when he knew damn well that he should be at home preparing for the day he is about to endure.

He loved a drink or two occasionally, but he loved the crowd and attention even more. Harry Styles is a sucker for the praise and acknowledgment of his neighbours, as well as tourists and strangers that he’ll never see again.

Speaking of strangers, her face has been stuck in his mind ever since he laid his eyes upon her soil covered body after their little incident. She felt like a force, making his way into his daily life, with no intentions but to lay in his daydreams and he’s not so fond of the idea.

Seeing her at the bar may have sobered him a bit, that pout on her lips and the dangerous anger reeking off her gorgeous body. Her boldness and fierceness made him light up on fire, he is yet to know who she is, but he must find out soon.

He sighs and balances his feet against the ground then remembers that his work today is in Maggy’s family field. Yesterday the girl was heading towards their house, it’s a long shot but he pushes it to the front of his mind and begins working.

The Northern sun provides no mercy, it penetrates one’s skin, passing through the blood vessels to sicken and weaken the body. How cursed is the sun but how pretty it shines. The residents of Montana welcomed it like their own, but Harry Styles was a different story. It is not evident whether he challenges the sun or loves it, perhaps both.

His Greek God like physique stood proudly against the temperature, salty sweat trickling down his always half naked body. His blessing of muscled biceps contracting with every push of his shovel or grip to the rope. He walks gracefully with his manly hands placed on his bony hips, examining the towns’ fields, any work done would require the strong clenching of his thick abs that feel like stone when pressed on. If you are lucky you’ll observe his back muscles that call for you to touch on.

The sun does not take it easy on him, in fact it envies him for his good looks but when it paints him with sweat, it helps him appear prettier, more angelic, it aids him to be known as Montana’s best cowboy. After all even the sun isn’t immune to his charm.

He wiped the sweat that was already forming on his forehead and took a large gulp of water that trickled from the corners of his mouth down to his collarbone and toned midsection. He could see a figure from afar on a horse, and he rubbed his eyes to make sure it is not his hangover playing games on him.

It was that mysterious stranger.

She was on the back of a familiar horse, her figure perfectly shaped as she guided the horse around. She wore a plaid blue flannel with a tank top beneath it and skimpy shorts revealing her toned legs that dangled perfectly.

He was not ashamed to look at her, he knows for a fact how she ogled him yesterday and he wishes for it to happen again but for now he enjoys gazing at her intently.

She steps off the horse and takes off her shirt, allowing the pretty combination of her bony collarbone and strong arms to appear, the cowboy hat she has on shields her long shiny hair, and her shorts hold her curves in perfect ways that he might crawl to her for worshipping purposes.

She begins to pick a variety of vegetables as she kneels, and Harry could’ve sworn that the sun was reflecting golden rays on her perfect skin making an angelic light surround her figure. Her position had him in a chokehold, it showed her feminine beauty that he was a sucker for. With a certain bend, he was able to catch her lower back dimples that he would die for.

Harry considers himself to be a sensual person, he loves details about every human’s physique whether it be any form they have, he will delve into its beauty and savour it for his dreams that he visits often.

It didn’t take long for her to notice his presence, she was a clever girl after all, and if not for the familiarity of his face she might’ve mistaken him for an intruder.

It seems that luck is not on her side, as she dreads the sight of a man that appears in every corner she walks in. He was away from her by a good distance yet near enough to see his act.

His smirk was shameless as he lazily walked around preparing his kit for work. He was fixing the fence and she can point out some details that will make any man or woman go crazy.

He has his right leg bent upwards against the base of the fence, his cowboy hat is different and seems brand new, with every bang of his hammer she notes the contraction of his biceps and clenching of abs. His rear form is not something that she expected to stare at, but there she was, eyeing a man that is like a forbidden apple to her pride.

He suddenly takes off his hat and for the first time she notices his chocolate curls now drenched from moist and humidity, he tips his head backwards , allowing his Adam’s apple to show.

He then brings both of his arms together and stretches them above his head, she can spot every outline of his muscles, almost feel their thickness, as the sun hugs his godly physique.

Veins along his neck and forearms become prominent with every flex he makes before picking up his hammer again and effortlessly fix the fence in a short period of time.

She managed to collect the vegetables she wanted but not without a quick subtle glance to him every moment, neither did he avoid gazing at her figure.

He dug an area of the field with his personal shovel, and she kept staring at him for a good amount of time before realising that she can watch him work all day in the field just to see the effect of his hard labour on his athletic body.

Who knew a hammer and a shovel can play with one’s hormones.

A shout nearby and the rush of hooves in the field alarmed both of them, he immediately jogged to check out the source, but she appeared to be rather unbothered, happy even.

She mindlessly ran towards a man on a horse before catching up to him as he quickly stepped off and lifted her up in the air. Harry suddenly stopped in his tracks realising that there is no threat at all, and it is only a relative of hers.

But upon another glance, he squinted his eyes and fixed his hands on his hips with an attempt at recognising the stranger. Memories came back to him abruptly, and the more he stared the more he got closer to revealing the mystery girl.

The man spotted Harry and waved, before shouting for him.

“Oi Styles! Come over here. How’s your old man.” The voice of the man brought him back to years ago as he suddenly realised why the girl’s features are familiar to him.

“A Carolina Princess, well I’ll be damned.” He whispered under his breath with a chuckle and passed his tongue on his teeth before approaching his father’s childhood friend.

Her laughter has exceeded the normal limit of a human being, she was above the clouds and on a different energy level than anyone around her. Her parents were home and that was all she needed.

She was sitting in the passenger seat next to her dad who was driving and telling her all about her home. She doesn’t get to see them that often, she feels a piece of her getting restored as he fills her in on everything she has missed.

In her lap lies a bouquet of Blue Stars flowers picked from her garden back in her hometown. It is her favourite type of flowers, one that she adored ever since she was able to differentiate colours and count numbers.

Harry sits in the backseat of her father’s truck upon a heated insistence. For the first time in over a day, she managed to flee away from the web of tangled thoughts surrounding a green eyed cowboy, it didn’t matter if he was right behind her.

Now the roles were reversed and a web in his mind began to form.

He expected everything of her to be but the daughter of a family friend, her face was so familiar yet so far from his knowledge. Her father hugged him like he was his own, and asked of him to ride with them despite not having his work done.

He couldn’t say no, not when it means he can find out more about her, so he eagerly packed up his kit and situated himself behind her.

The enthusiasm on her face when she received the Blue Stars bouquet was priceless. She matched the energy of a little kid, an adorable innocence but deadly stubbornness.

His family left Montana when he was five, what he remembers is nothing but glimpses that he sometimes stretches in front of him for a hint of his past life that he didn’t savour enough.

He mapped his entire brain, recalled Maggy and her family, dinner nights and bull riding contests, barbeque Sundays and Fairs. But her? He remembered her father, and his friendships with the family, almost an unbreakable bond. But no matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t catch a blue star.

Instead of his keenness on going back, he focuses on the present moment and he’s pretty sure he looks like an idiot or a creep even as his eyes never once leave her figure.

Her head was angled towards her dad who was chatting her all the way, she has a dimple on her right cheek that only appeared if she laughed hard. Her hand cups her mouth whenever her laughter gets too loud, and she doesn’t seem to mind the tears that come with it.

He has never seen someone so infatuated with flowers, her eyes lit up like she was offered the whole world, and she kept asking if the bouquet was from Carolina, smiling even more upon the confirmation.

If for a moment the conversation gets lost, she fixates on the road ahead of her and sways left to right gently with the song on the radio that she has never heard of.

He was praying for her father to not question him so that he can sneakily continue studying her in every way. But after checking on his daughter, Harry assumed that he’d talk to him.

“Son, hope we are not ignoring you there. How’s your pops?” Her father spoke as he looked to Harry through the mirror.

His jaw twitched upon her frown and face drop when the spotlight turned to him, she seems to have remembered his existence and for once in his life Harry wanted to be invisible.

“He’s doing great but he misses your contest nights.” He put on a daring smile and restored his charming demeanour.

“Oh boy he better be ready for me then.” Her dad chuckled and began speaking of old times as Harry hummed back to not appear disrespectful, but in fact his green orbs were set on hers that glared back at him through the car side mirror.

Her father and his greeted each other like little kids, it was evident that their bond was strong, and she was gazing in awe at their relationship. On the road, she wiped Harry’s existence so she can delight in her father’s arrival.

No one was able to notice that something was wrong, but they do know that she and Harry are strangers, so what they thought were doing to introduce them to each other was in reality her worst nightmare.

“Hey son, forget about the fence I have a hay delivery from Mr.Lanny , why don’t you pick it up with the lovely girl?” Harry’s father Luke pointed at her, as her own father Eddie agreed with a shrug.

“Go with him sweetie and have fun, I know you like road trips. Mr.Lanny has cats too. When you come back your mother will be here.” Her father kissed her temple and guided her to the truck.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded before hesitantly getting in the passenger seat. Harry’s cologne filled the truck as he entered, and she hoped this ride won’t cause her a headache. She was not in the mood for his cheekiness and high ego.

“Hold on Blue Star, or the truck will make you fall out the window.” He grinned at her as he turned on the ignition making the engine roar.

“Shove your jokes up your ass.” She gritted through her teeth as she looked forward. ‘Your nicely shaped ass’ she thought. He turned on KISS’s music and drove off in a rush as she tried to ignore the way his hands look on the steering wheel.

It was no wonder that she loved road trips, she felt as if they rejuvenate her soul whether it be with the company of the night breeze or the day’s sun.

But hard was her attempt to hide the discomfort oozing from her body, not when he was sitting next to her. What she didn’t know as well is that the place they’re headed to is 45 minutes away, so that’s a hour and a half in the car with the unfathomable Harry Styles.

“You’re too quiet Carolina.” He rasped making her shiver at his deep voice.

“Carolina?” she inquired, feeling quite irritated at the idea of him knowing things about her as simple as her hometown.

“I reckoned you didn’t like clumsy girl so Carolina it is. “He fiddled with a key chain that dangled smoothly between his fingers, hitting his cross tattoo.

“Do you like the cross tattoo on my hand? Some have considered it a necklace bef-“

“Can you stop being annoying for one second. The world does not revolve around you.” She groaned and closed her eyes before pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Actually when I was born the stars-

“Bloody boots I mean it.” She shouted at him and that only made him smirk more as he lifted his hands up in the air like an innocent man.

He chuckled softly before changing the song to ‘Uptown Girl’ by Billy Joel and pulling the window down fully, he continued to spread his legs with one hand mindlessly placed against the steering wheel while the other one was resting on his cowboy hat.

She tried to have subtle glances on details to enjoy. His hat had a ‘Styles’ embroidered on its front and a cross necklace was dangling against his pumped tatted chest. For once in her life she was attracted physically to someone that made her blood boil.

“What brought you here?” He tried to start a conversation knowing that he can’t fathom her silence, he wanted to see her lips move.

“I have a week off from university and it’s a necessity for me to come.” She answers formally with her gaze set on the road.

“Why not Carolina then?” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel as he watches her intently.

“It’s farther than here so that’s two days less from my vacation, besides Maggy is here and all of my family in Carolina comes down to see me.” She ties her hair feeling irritated from it pricking her eyes and he can’t take his sight off her as she styles it into a ponytail.

He can see how she left her plaid flannel in the field as well as the basket and Ray that Teddy will come after. She is left in a tight tank top that is showing her perfect cleavage.

“And you? I heard that you’re from Tennessee.” She caught him off guard as he wasn’t expecting her to actually make small talk with him and thankfully his eyes had shifted from her gorgeous form.

“True I am. We have family business here; I stalled and had some fun in Tennessee before moving here a while ago.” She was now looking at him and not the road and he felt like he scored a victory.

“What are you studying Blue Star?” He kept inquiring as they both tried to not stare at each other.

“Fine Arts in Washington, I love drawing and painting, and you Montana?” Her energy shifted to match his playfulness and he felt like he was back in the game.

“Well well Carolina, we’re both in the art field. I occasionally teach Music at Montana’s elementary and I sing for fun in some events.” He reached a turn and controlled the steering wheel with the edge of his right palm making her unconsciously clench her thighs, as this exact move is her weak spot.

“Maybe I’ll listen to you sometime if you’re not sitting on my nerves.”

“Ehhh, teasing is like my second job.” He mumbled before sending her a wink and holding eye contact with her.

“I have no idea how everyone loves you in this town.”

“Stare a bit more and you’ll figure it out.” He made a devilish grin as she gazed at his face, specially at his emerald irises that change colour upon the contact with the scarlet sun that’s setting.

Little does he know that she’s been trying to find this exact shade of green ever since she began her degree and now under the Montana sun, the company of Billy Joel and an intriguing man she found her inspiration.

“You need to be humbled Harry.” She laughed letting her arm dangle from the window as the wind allowed her to catch a whiff of his tobacco vanilla cologne, and she tried not to squirm around in the seat.

“Have a shot at it Carolina Princess”. He reached his hand to move some of the fallen hair strands on her face, his hand felt so soft yet so cold from his giant rings.

“Now I better not hear your voice, let me enjoy the road.” She kicked her feet on the dashboard with no care if he minds or not, and placed her hat on her face to shield her from the scorching sun.

“What if you’ll have to shut me up.”

“By all means necessary Montana.”

He groaned lowly trying not to show his visible attraction to her, the sexual tension in the car was thick whether it be her ignoring the wetness pooling in her shorts or him who’s regulating his breath to avoid an embarrassing teenage boner.

Her father Eddie was right, Mr.Lanny does have cats. He greeted her with a handshake, immediately knowing who she was as she’s ‘a copy of her father’. She left Harry to do his business and had some playtime with the cats.

Although the kittens were adorable, she didn’t want to miss the chance of checking out the area, so she placed the little munchkins back in their crib and stepped out to the ranch.

What she saw wasn’t what she was expecting, but it was enough to take the sun’s role making her whole body heat up.

Harry was on the top of a stacked hay pyramid; he was already tall as it is but now he looks like a model agencies would fight for. If that was even possible, it seemed as if his abs became more prominent upon the torture of labour and the northern sun.

She swallowed down her throat and watched as he threw heavy stacks of hay in the back of his truck like they weighed nothing. His entire body flexed together in sync, from the veins in his neck, to the tightening in his thighs and from the contraction of his biceps to his back muscles that can be studied.

He pulled out a cloth from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his face with it. There were two options for her: either stare at him like a weirdo (she wouldn’t mind) or help him so they return home faster. So she fixed her hair into a bun and headed towards the hay pyramid.

The next 24 hours were a blur.

After Harry drove them back to town she immediately left his car without a goodbye as she ran to greet her mother, and stacks upon stacks of hay were waiting for him to be delivered.

He didn’t see her for the rest of the day but that didn’t stop her from visiting his dreams, the only place he can feel the delight of life in and now that she’s a character, he may never leave.

When he woke up in the morning he had prepared himself for an encounter with her, but when he moved around town with work all day and didn’t spot her he felt a certain kind of disappointment that made him anxious.

He even took a different route near Maggy’s field just for the odds of bumping into her and even that didn’t work out.

But would it change things for him if he knew that she was like a buzzing bee all day having not seen him?

It wasn’t until she entered the house that she realised how she abandoned him without a goodbye, she was too excited to see her mother that she disrespected his presence.

He seemed to have improved a little bit personality wise, although being full of himself was his entire job but he had some nice things as well. On the way back he insisted on buying her a sandwich with a soft drink, and he came back with a shirt having ‘Carolina Swag’ printed on it.

‘You can now walk around and let everyone know that you’re a Carolina Princess’. He chuckled as he took a long sip from his own drink.

“Now it’s only fair I get you something but I’m not sure anyone sells a ‘I’m a dick’ shirts”. She laughed at him with her legs dangling from the window.

”Ehhh just get me a ‘ Big dick is back in town’ shirt.”

Maggy’s whole house was buzzing with people; members of the family on both her and Maggy’s side as they prepared a huge lunch. But peeling potatoes or feeding the baby lambs seemed to be hard as her mind refused to let go of him, so much that she imagined her sketchbook whispering for her to draw him, his eyes, his body and everything that she saw.

She knew that Harry wasn’t invited to the lunch, she began having thoughts about going down to the bar in hopes of seeing him, but it seemed silly even for her.

Since when does she hang so much hope for a guy that does nothing but tease her.

Maggy could tell something was off, but she didn’t question anything nor the bar incident two days ago, but she knows her friend and knows Harry as well. She can tell how they fit like a piece of puzzle. It is said that opposites attract but both of them are ever changing like tides and Maggy knows well that each of their alterations are equal to the other.

A bonfire night in the North was a tradition that dates back to her grandfather’s generation, there are some things that have changed including her longing for the Carolina bonfires which she cannot attend now.

If you ask her she’d blush as she knows well that she isn’t invited, but how bad could her presence be?

She doesn’t consider herself to be an intruder, but she is not one to miss fun as well. Maggy has been talking her ear off non stop about it, and she thought why spend the night in when she can crash a party.

Technically she wasn’t being rude or disrespectful. Everyone knew everyone in town, she wonders who the party is for and if he is there. She’s been getting a continuous flow of thoughts about him.

What he does in a day when he isn’t working, how his nights are, the other side of his personality. Would he continue his playfulness with her or shift onto something else. She can feel her regret readying itself to come out if she doesn’t go. Better be safe than sorry.

She acted as if it was her first time going out, taking extra time in front of the mirror, attempting to apply some makeup despite having no expertise in it, and rummaging through everyone’s closets till she decided on a white sundress, slightly above her knees. Maggy let out a sigh and recreated a drama scene having restored her cowboy hat.

“My mom’s will look better since I have matching boots.” She mumbled as Maggy made victory dance moves as a form of an inside joke.

Even the whole family could see her enthusiasm that was a bit out of hand, usually she’d be happy to stay in and be cocooned in the cosiness of the northern home, playing with her cousins and telling stories.

She and Maggy agreed to go on foot, knowing that they may be tipsy on the way back. But they didn’t give it further thought, as the town is safe and secure day and night.

It wasn’t far as they can spot the fire, but to her surprise it was in Harry’s own field. She confidently made her way through the grass with Maggy behind her and she can see how everyone turned their heads upon her far figure that is slowly approaching.

“Good evening ladies and Gentlemen.” She smiled in a nonchalant way noticing Harry’s change of body language when she arrived.

She can spot a few familiar faces that she isn’t too close with but can recognise, a girl was sitting next to Harry and laying her body against him.

“Hello Carolina.” He winked at her and motioned to a seat facing him seeing as the ones next to him were occupied.

“And who exactly are you?” The girl next to him mocked as she became too self-aware of Harry’s plastered grin.

“Do I know you?” She replied with a friendly smile, making the girl frown and turn red.

“You’re seriously asking who Carolina is?” Harry replied to the girl without once looking at her. His gaze was set on the Carolina Princess, and the sight of fire reflecting on her bare legs.

He didn’t want to make a fool out of himself and invite her, what if she didn’t want to come and then he’d be disappointed. He considers his ego to be quite delicate but broad.

Seeing how she is here tells him all he needs to know, even If he met her once he can see how she’d prefer being with her family right now. So why come to a bonfire with no invitation.

She indulged herself in a conversation Maggy was having with an old friend, as Harry continued to entertain the girl sitting next to him who was now brushing herself against him on purpose.

He was not sure of what he was thinking, why did he want to make her jealous when she was right in front of him?

He whispered nothings in the girl’s ear, things he can say out loud, but every once in a while he got the attention he wanted and he smirked knowingly.

Except that his fun didn’t last long as a guy sat next to Carolina and began chatting her, it was now obvious to the companion next to him who stomped her foot and left with a huff.

Harry watched the guy intently, he knew him well and he knows how much of a nice guy he is, he’s just her type and Harry felt his jaw twitch at the thought. The beer bottle in his hand was now empty as he consumed it quickly.

He lazily walked over to her side making both hers and the guy’s head turn upward.

“Hey man can you give us a minute? I want to talk with her” Harry rasped as he looked down at her unbothered figure, allowing his eyes to linger a bit on her collarbone and neck.

“Sure yeah.” The guy got up with a nod and smile making Harry sigh as it was a confirmation that his intentions were friendly.

“Did you actually think I didn’t notice your little glances.” She smirked as Harry situated himself next to her.

“I was hoping you would actually.” He whispered in a deep voice as he got himself dangerously close to her.

“Yeah?” she grinned at him.

“Uh huh.”

The fire was reflecting on both of their faces, and he couldn’t give two fucks if it he was being obvious, he needed to stare. Needed.

The dress hugged her body perfectly and the lily odour was reeking off her heavily that he wanted to bury his face in her neck.

Her neck that is adorned by a flower necklace that he will later on recall how it was a blue star, when he dreams about her.

Her legs stretched in front of her, made him realise that he was about to ask her if she wants to lay them on him. But maybe that was too straightforward even for him.

“I see that your little friend left, I hope I was not a bother.”

“She did? I didn’t notice.” He lied as he looked around pretending to look for the girl.

She rolled her eyes and laughed before bending her forearms backwards against the wooden seat. They both know how dangerously close they are but thankfully everyone seems to be preoccupied.

He is not shirtless, she noticed that. He is wearing a white flannel with a leather jacket adorning his muscles in every right way.

“You don’t have a drink in your hand, why so?” He asked as he pointed for the box of random drinks.

“Not feeling it honestly.” Her position and the way her arms are stretched backwards made her cleavage more prominent and Harry was about to choke on his beer.

“You know, down on the west coast they got a sayin’ , if you’re not drinking then you’re not playing. You should know all about it.” He grinned at her trying to take in all of her expressions.

“Fuck the west coast.” She rolled her eyes in a dramatic way.

“Hmm why so? You’re studying there.” He inquired.

“I just do not belong to that area, i’m a Northern girl.” She shrugged cutting her answer short.

“I reckon that you’re not staying there after the graduation?” He was leading the conversation somewhere unknown, why does he care where she’ll live or what she’ll do?

“Definitely not. The last time I was in Carolina my Nana said that I better swim before I drown” she smiled covering her face from embarrassment.

The fire was crackling and the conversation of other people died around them as they delighted in each other’s company, and tiny secrets. She found out shocking things about Montana’s beloved boy and he the same , where her traits were taken in as perfection.

“She’s right, Carolina is like no other.” Any information he had on Carolina, was being pushed to the front of his brain. Anything to impress Blue Star.

“Yeah? What do you know about it? Actually it’s a bit far from Montana but you remind me of home.” Her smile was genuine and the corners of her mouth were stretching with every word. Her soft hair cascaded on her face and the despite the fire that’s lit next to them, shivers and goosebumps went through their bodies.

“I remind you of home?” He felt his heart flutter at her words even though he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad one, but at least it means he’s been on her mind.

“Hmm I feel so far away and I can’t always visit, it’s frustrating. But you’re like that distant memory one goes back to for a hint of Nostalgia, it’s kind of hard to decode.” An expression of interest covered her face, as if she was explaining some sort of mathematical equation to him and not a complicated feeling.

“I do know that, your face feels distant yet familiar too.” He muttered then immediately continued rearing the end of their conversation.

“When my pops used to take me to Carolina, we’d stop by an ice cream shop, his name was Uncle Pe-“

“Uncle Peter?!” She cut him off in excitement and playfully gripped his bicep upon his confirmation.

He has never seen someone get excited this much for an ice cream shop, but again no one ever told him that he reminded them of home or made him feel like wanting to be attached to their hip all day long.

“There’s no way.. I- , that was like my childhood shop. I escaped classes in middle school once to spend an afternoon there and eat the Uncle Peter’s special flavour.” She had her hand on his as she excitedly told him about her childhood. Her laughter was echoing without a care to anyone around them.

“Was it the Vanilla strawberry cheesecake?!” Harry’s eyes gleamed with hope.

“Yes!!” They both held on to each other from the amount of laughing they let out.

“You know you’re such a –“ he stopped mid sentence with his rosy lips parted.

“A what Harry?” She whispered as she shamelessly stared at his mouth.

A true Blue star and I don’t want to sound like a creep but we would’ve met even if both of us didn’t return here at the same time.

“Nothing. Erm would you like a beer?” He cleared his throat and got up to grab a bottle.

“Yeah why not? For the west coast I guess.” She made herself more comfortable and kicked off her boots, trying not to think about what he was about to say.

“Sure for the shitty west coast.”

They stayed up till 1 in the morning, sharing tales on everything and nothing, she told him why the North means a lot to her and why she is studying in Washington, her first pony and that one time she got mad at Maggy and cut her hair.

He listened intently, and If he could write them down he would. He didn’t care if he had work in the morning or if his eyelids were betraying him, he must listen.

He told her about the family business, about Tennessee and his passion for music, how the kids at school love it. But he tried not to share a lot, not because he’s a closed book but to allow her to indulge in the moment.

Gaze at her lips as they move, get a whiff of her lily scent when she gets too close, notice her expressions as she tells different stories and which one means the most. Listen to to her angelic voice and try not to coo when she says his name.

Her soft skin that’s touching his made it hard for him to not imagine her back against his chest at night, touching him however and whenever she pleases, yes he would, he would surrender his body to her.

After all his own body is betraying him with the need for her touch.

“I think I’ll just head home, it’s late.” He noted the soft blush in her cheeks that he wanted to kiss.

“Okay I’ll give you a ride.” He didn’t give her time to object before getting up and fishing his truck’s keys from his pockets.

She followed him after letting her friend know where she’s headed and saw him waiting patiently in the car.

The road home took almost ten minutes, in which he playfully teased her grand entrance to the bonfire.

“It’s not like you minded my presence.” Her feet were yet again kicked up against the dashboard.

“Maybe, maybe not.” He let out a lie that none of them believed.

When they reached the front porch of her house, she straightened her posture and grabbed her purse from the backseat, he had his sight fixed on her as she thanked him and reached for the truck door.

“Hey Carolina?” she looked back at him before he gently reached for her chin, and brought it closer to his face, their breaths were heavy as they both had their eyes fixed on their lips.

His mouth hovered over hers, as his brain was already savouring the small details like the curve of her upper lip and her minted breath.

The front porch suddenly lit up with several lamps making both of them jolt backward in shock and confusion.

“Hey Styles , My boy!” her dad shouted and waved for Harry who was cursing himself for stalling the kiss.

He looked at her shocked figure who smiled almost immediately offering him a toothy grin, as she stepped out of the car sending him a flying kiss.

And for the first time, she winked before him.

——————————————————

Dividers from @firefly-graphics

A/n: Part 2 will be posted this week and it’s very very steamy…🥵🥴 Please send asks or comment to give me your opinion xx

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wardenparker · 3 months

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 2

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle* Mentions of sick loved ones, mutual pining, personal guilt, relationship turmoil. Summary: After only knowing Marcus for a brief time, you can already feel emotions beginning to build. Will that spell trouble for the relationship you've worked so hard to build with Sam, or will something else altogether begun to sow seeds of doubt? Notes: Once again I'm afraid I have to ask forgiveness in the edit of this chapter. I went away for a few days this week and ever since my chronic illness has been utterly kicking my ass. Hopefully I didn't miss too many errors here.

Game night will probably go down in the year's history as one of the best and most fun times that Marcus has had in a long time. He had laughed until his stomach hurt, his abs aching the next week for at least three days. He's gotten an open invitation back, but he doesn't know if that was a good thing, if he's honest with himself. His attraction to you is something that he's got to get ahold of if he's going to socialize with you more. It seems like everything about you just makes the heavens sing and the sun shine. It's crazy and he hates that, considering you are very happy in a relationship.

Eastern Market is his usual haunt on the weekend, preferring it to a generic grocery store, and he’s lost in thought enough that he doesn’t notice a familiar face at the florist’s stand across the way as he’s walking through the stalls. "Some peaches will be good." Marcus decides, looking through some of the fruits that have been trucked in from warmer states. "Peach smoothies." He decides, walking towards the gorgeous plump peaches on display.

If you were any other person in the world, it would be you who bumped into him and not the Secret Service agent contractually obligated to come along on your errands. As it is, when Agent Bailey defends you from being bumped into by the familiar figure of Marcus Pike, you’re the one who apologizes. “Oh! I’m so sorry, excuse u—Marcus?”

“Oh, hi!” Marcus shakes his head, reaching out and taking your arm. “I am so sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” He apologizes. “Was focused on getting some peaches and didn’t notice anything or anyone, obviously.” He flushes slightly, feeling that pull towards you and hating that he looks like a jerk, or maybe just thoughtless, in front of you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

"Not at all." The flowers in your hands and the canvas shopping bags on your arm aren't harmed either, and you find yourself smiling much more brightly than you were even a second ago. "No harm done to me or to Agent Bailey, not to worry. Is it errand day for you, too?"

“Trying to eat healthier.” Marcus admits, slightly upset by the prospect but he figures that just comes with getting older. “Figured the produce here would be better than in a grocery store. Are these for the inn?” He asks, looking at the flowers in your hands and immediately reaches for them. “Let me help.”

"I thought my apartment could use some brightening up." He's seen the organized chaos that you live in and you're not embarrassed by it by any means, but there is a small sting to buying your own flowers just a few days before Valentine's Day. Sam isn't a flowers guy and that's perfectly fine, but you're definitely a flowers girl. When Marcus scoops them up without a second thought and stays by your side, you can feel your cheeks heat up. "I, um—thank you.

“Of course.” He huffs, as if newly made acquaintances should always scoop up flowers from you. “You chose brilliantly. They are gorgeous. Have you already paid for them?”

"Yes, so don't even try." It's just a playful warning that comes with a waggle of your finger, but you really have a feeling that he would try to pay for them if you hadn't.

He grumbles at that slightly. “Well, okay.” It’s almost pathetic that he takes note of what kind of flowers you like and he smirks. “So which flower is your favorite in this?” He asks.

"These," you point out a geometrically fascinating flower with petals that seem to spiral endlessly. "They're called camellias. We called them Winter Roses when I was growing up, but I've always loved them." The intimacy of the question goes straight over your head, just excited to have something pretty to split amongst the small vases in your little space.

“Camellias.” Marcus repeats the flower, filing away the information even though he shouldn’t use it. “They are beautiful.”

"Not everyone has them, so I tend to get my flowers here just to make sure they're in the mix." Barely aware that you're standing in the middle of a bustling market with people trying to move all around you, you have to shake away the warmth settling in you that is definitely not due to any kind of attraction. Nope. Not even a little. Not at all. "You, um..." you gesture to the next stall, where he was originally headed when the collision happened. "Peaches?"

“Peaches? Oh right, peaches.” Marcus laughs at himself and shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, I’m – I forgot.” He snorts. “I was thinking about fresh peach smoothies.”

"Ooooo, that sounds incredible." All of a sudden it's the best idea you've heard all day, and you grin mischievously. "It's not exactly standard, but the next time you're craving a sweet after having Indian take out? Make a peach smoothie. It's got that same vibe as a mango lassi but it's slightly sweeter, and it's the most refreshing thing ever."

“I was actually thinking about having Indian tonight.” Marcus admits with a grin. “To reward myself for eating healthier.”

"Best reward in the world." You agree easily. "I told myself I was going to cook tonight and make sure there were leftovers for another day this week, but I am teetering dangerously close to just calling for take-out as well."

"Well..." Marcus almost doesn't offer, because of the fact that you have a boyfriend, but he is truly meaning this as a friendly offer. "If we went to have Indian together, it wouldn't be as bad as ordering it as take out, would it?" He ventures, raising his brows in offer.

You should say no, You should absolutely say no. Not because the invitation is improper in any way — after all, he's a friend. But because of the way your heart bumps and skips at the offer like you hope he means it as more. He doesn't, and that is a good thing. In fact, Marcus and Sam got along fairly well at game night. But you can't help the way your cheeks burn pleasantly. "DuPont Circle?" You ask, confirming that he means he was intending to order from the same place you were. When he nods, you do too. "That sounds really nice."

"This way..." He's immensely happy you are agreeing to come to eat with him. "We can order the samosas and pakoras and not feel any guilt what so ever." He tells you, grinning at you.

"No guilt, but definitely extra time at the gym." His smile is dangerous, but apparently your self-preservation instincts aren't nearly as good as you think they are, because the only alarm bell going off in your head is the one that says Don't Let It Become a Date! which you just brush off. Surely that won't even be a possibility. It can't, because you and Sam have a good thing going. "Although, you're not masochistic enough to have my little brother as your biweekly gym buddy, so your trips are probably far less traumatic than mine," you offer with a laugh.

"Nope." Marcus chuckles. "I just torture myself by running around the Mall during my lunchbreaks instead of spending it in museums or at the food trucks." He snorts. "I just get to smell them just off the Mall."

"Have you lived in DC for three years without doing any of the food trucks out on the Mall?" That might be the most appalling thing you've ever heard in your life, and you nearly drop the peach that you had just picked up to add to your basket.

"Oh no." He laughs at that. "First six months I was here, I fucking lived off food trucks." He admits. "I was undercover and my contact checked in with me through the food trucks."

"Oh, thank God." The both of you laugh as you wipe imaginary sweat of your forehead as though it had made you nervous. "If you had never had Julia's Empanadas, I might have had to drag you down to the Mall right now."

"Then I wouldn't have room for Indian." Marcus groans, rolling his eyes at the thought of how many empanadas he would try to fit in his stomach if you went to Julia's Empanadas. "And I'm really craving Indian."

"I am too." Although, now you're going to be thinking about empanadas for ages. Maybe you'll have to try making some. "How has your week been?" Making small talk is easy with him, as you poke through the fruit bins to find peaches, apples, and pears to snack on this week.

"It's been alright." He shrugs slightly. "Depositions for a few upcoming cases. So I've had to revisit case files and work with the district attorney's office to make sure that there aren't any surprises."

"Paperwork and meetings," you nod in understanding. "I get that. Being my own boss is a hell of a lot more paperwork and meetings than I ever thought it would be."

"Ordering supplies, creating events to drum up interest. Balancing budgets." He nods. "I can imagine that it feels like it's hard to get a free moment for yourself."

The way you nod is tired but proud. Every ounce of hard work that you put into that inn is worthwhile, and you do it with straight shoulders and as much determination as you can possibly summon. "Today is my first day off in...two or three weeks? It's...a lot. But it's so worthwhile. And it means that Syd has her place, too. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"So how did you come to have the inn?" Marcus has been curious about that. "Was it always your dream? Or something you fell into?'

"I really, really liked throwing parties when I was younger." That's the easy way to start, as you both move to the line to pay for your bundles of fruit at this particular stall. "That grew up into loving to have guests over all the time. And then dreaming about running a hotel. So I took my sociology and history double major and got a job a hotel in Philly after college, putting myself through a hospitality degree while I started learning the ropes. It was a lot of years of working my way up, but eventually I got hired as the manager for the Inn at Jones Point under the old owners. They were struggling to keep up with new technology and losing clients because of it, and then..." Your eyes flick up to Marcus, almost apologizing for telling him the whole story. "We found out the reason Anita was having so much trouble learning the new technology was early-onset dementia alongside a sizeable brain tumor. I bought the inn from them when they made the decision that a comfortable end to her life was the most important thing they could do. Michael – Anita's husband – he comes around once a week for dinner and to check up on the place now that she's gone. He likes to keep an eye on it for her."

“That’s….” Marcus softens so much at the background story. “Beautiful. You are maintaining their legacy while adapting it to the new realities of time. Weathering time.”

"That farmhouse has been standing since the 1700s. We're just part of its legacy, not the other way around." The pair of you step up to be next in line, with Agent Bailey standing mere feet away managing to look imposing and nonchalant all at once. "The best part is that it could give Sydney her restaurant, and Juan a way to find himself in all the event planning. We didn't know what a team we'd be until we got going and now it's...it's just amazing."

“That’s incredible, and the fact that the place runs so smoothly is a testament to your hard work.” Marcus praises. He’s read some of the reviews and they are all positive, even the ones that had events beyond your control.

“That’s very kind of you.” Kind is an operative word for Marcus. As are sweet, funny, intelli— Nope, stop it, you’re getting dreamy again. Even the momentary distraction of having to pay for fruit is a welcome one if it gets your mind off that track.

Ouch. Kind is such a word that lands him in the friend zone. Which is where he has to be with you, but it still hurts. No longer edgy or cool like he was when he was in his old band. “What else do you need to get?” He asks, swinging his head around at the options available.

“I’m almost done actually.” It didn’t escape you that he flinched slightly when you were trying to be grateful and at least a little complimentary, and suddenly your stomach flips in fear that he might not like spending time with you are much as it seems. Or that you’d done something wrong. “I just wanted to get some fresh bread. But…I don’t know how much more you have to do.”

“Nothing.” He promises, shooting you a grin. “The least I can do is carrying things. Since you are saving me from a night of trying to cook.”

“Never learned to cook or just never got good at it?” There is a difference, after all, and it isn’t about want. Some people find cooking to be an incredible challenge. He gives you a look when you take your parcel of fruit from the vendor and accepts it on your behalf with thanks. Like a damn gentleman, you think with a pant in your chest.

“Never really had the time or the inclination.” He admits. “It’s hard to be enthusiastic about cooking for one, you know what I mean?”

“But that’s when you get to experiment!” Maybe it’s years of being friends with Sydney, whose world revolves around her tastebuds, but cooking has always been an outlet for you. It’s one of the only things you dislike about your apartment —the teeny tiny kitchen. “You can test out new things and weird combinations, and if it’s not great then the only person who knows is you. But if it’s awesome?” You grin up at him like you’re unveiling some kind of ultimate secret. “You become a rockstar at the next office potluck.”

Marcus chuckles. “I’m a rockstar anyway.” He jokes. “I’m the one who brings in the pizza and Chinese for the late nights in the office.”

“Okay, actually, that does count for a lot.” Walking in the direction of the bakery where you get all of your sweet treats and fresh bread, you readjust your shopping bag on your arm and try to glance around the place to survey your surroundings the way Agent Bailey has been teaching you. A comprehensive knowledge of your surroundings, she calls it. “I can’t really cook for my staff much when they have Sydney’s kitchen nearby, but I leave baked goods in the break room from time to time as a thank you. They work so hard.”

“There’s nothing better than snagging a muffin or a cookie when you’re rushing around.” Marcus agrees wisely.

“Or a slice of pizza.” It sounds like he works hard to keep his team in good spirits the same way you do, and you have to commend that in someone who works in such a dour field. Even art crimes — being less violent in nature, according to what you looked up the other night out of sheer curiosity — can’t possible be all sunshine and roses.

“Exactly.” He nods. “Sometimes we have all night surveillance or going through the evidence when something is time sensitive. My teams work better when they are well fed, and know how much they are appreciated.” He shrugs slightly, “everyone could benefit from know that every now and again.”

"Sometimes the weddings we run are just...they're insane. Or last year we had an entire family reunion take over the grounds for four very long days. I can't imagine it's half as stressful as what you deal with but the days can be really long and busy in their own right." For what it's worth, at least, you do love your job. And it's obvious that Marcus feels just as passionately about what he does.

“Oof.” He winces. “I bet the staff wanted to break out a bottle of bubbly when they were checked out.” Marcus jokes, chuckling slightly. “Yeah a lot of people don’t understand that when you love your job, the long hours are worth it.”

"Yeah." A tinge of regret breaks your smile, barely twitching in the corner of your mouth, and you barely nod. He can't possibly know what kind of a nerve he's hit — hell, you barely know yourself and you're the one feeling it. It just...it stings.

“Did I say something wrong?” He asks, immediately concerned when your smile seems almost sad.

"No." You reassure him much too quickly, and flinch in your own right when he looks skeptical. "It's just...not everyone thinks what I do is as worthwhile as, say, something like what you do. A—and that makes sense. Running an inn and upholding the law are—they're not the same. I'm not saying they are. It's just...that important to me. That's all."

“Whoever believes that is wrong.” Marcus insists wholeheartedly. “Running an inn is absolutely crucial. Maybe not to everyone, but to the people who need a little escape, a retreat to relax and revive themselves, your inn is a haven to them.” He is speaking passionately because he believes it. “When I’m out of town on a case, I hope that I can book a little inn. Something more personable than a Holiday Inn, so when I come back, it’s like a little slice of home.”

“I appreciate that. Really. It’s—I guess it’s a sore spot at the moment and I didn’t realize it. That’s all.” And you are absolutely not going to allow yourself to indulge in the image of Marcus coming back to the inn for you. Your place is not his ‘ little slice of home’. Even if you’re wondering what the would feel like if it was real.

“Well, you can always gripe and complain if you need to.” He promises.

“No, that’s—that’s not it.” It’s a little embarrassing, if you’re honest, but that’s only because you’re fighting being attracted to the man beside you. Otherwise you would just be chatting to a friend. “I just…don’t get to spend as much time with Sam as he would like. That’s all. Because we both have busy jobs.”

Marcus winces. “With the job he has, it would be hard unless you didn’t work.” He murmurs quietly. “But what counts is that you make the time you do have together special.”

“That’s what I said. Making the most of our time it’s what is most important.” The topic had come up again in conversation when you and Sam had talked about next steps — through the odd avenue of discussing your commute. His house to the inn isn’t a prohibitive drive, but it will warrant either having a lot of work done on your car or getting an upgrade. Right now you have no commute whatsoever, so you’re barely using your car outside of town.

“My favorite thing to do with my ex-wife was to curl up and watch a movie.” He admits. “Or work on a crossword together.”

“Those…” You laugh quietly, almost self-consciously, and shrug with the air of someone who is just about to give up. “Are the things I do with my good friend Agent Bailey, here. Though she kicks my ass at the Times Sunday crossword every single week.”

He rolls his eyes at himself. “I know it’s an old person’s activity, but I was normally exhausted from the academy.”

“Don’t you dare besmirch the Times Crossword.” A waggles finger and disapproving tsk seems to amuse him and it makes you smile, too. “That’s a mandatory topic of conversation at my mother’s dinner table.”

“Your mother enjoys the Times Crossword?” He asks, grinning at you. “She would get along with my parents. They have two subscriptions just so they can each do their own.”

“I’m keeping that in mind for Dad’s birthday this year.” It’s a brilliant idea. They would love to make a competition of it. It would be the highlight of their week.

“My parents got it as a wedding present and they enjoyed it so much, they kept it.” He tells you, smiling fondly at the memory of the two of them arguing playfully over their crosswords.

“That’s incredibly sweet.” There is a crowd at the bakery, as to be expected, so you and Marcus step into line to wait your turn. “I love the idea of being able to share small things with your partner. They’re every bit as important as the grand gestures, if not more.”

“Sometimes the smaller gestures are the most meaningful.” He admits with a grin. “I love cherry Danishes, and so did my ex. We would find these combo boxes of assorted and she would get the cherry one.”

“Giving up your favorite Danish flavor is not small.” An attempt at lightening the already light and sweet conversation is maybe…just trying to keep your own mind off of things. But that somehow doesn’t keep you from admitting the truth before you can stop yourself. “I have yet to meet the man I would give up my lemon poppyseed muffin for.”

“That’s only because you’ve never traded for a raspberry crumble muffin.” Marcus vows, smirking at the way you look stingy, even though he knows for a fact you aren’t.

“You’re on, Pike.” The smirk on his lips spreads to yours as effortlessly as breathing. “But lemon poppyseed is pretty impossible to unseat.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever had a raspberry crumble then.” He huffs, looking offended at the idea. “But I don’t think this place has them. I get them from a little bakery near the Bureau. I’ll have to bring you one.”

“I’ll get you a lemon poppyseed from the coffeeshop I go to in Old Town.” Even as its coming out of your mouth you know it sounds like flirting, but the fact is that you just feel so naturally comfortable with him. There is nothing flirtatious about muffins, you tell yourself. Nothing at all. “We can compare notes.”

“That sounds like a plan to me.” Marcus is extremely happy that you would like to make plans with him, any plans. Even if it’s just a friendly wager. “I’ll get the raspberry crumble. I say we each get two. And if you like the other one so much, you have to give up both.”

“Deal.” You put your hand out to him, willing to make a friendly bet on almost anything. That’s gotten you and your brother in trouble before, but this is harmless.

Marcus grins as he takes your hand, imagining that lightning bolts are shooting up his hand. Winking, he laughs, “just don’t be disappointed when you break that little rule of yours for me.” He boasts.

“We’ll see.” The tone of the thing really tries for teasing, but you end up so taken aback by the electricity in shaking his hand that you fluster — which is only compounded when you end up next in line and completely forget the word for ‘sourdough’ in the process.

“I, uh, I want-“ you seem completely out of it, and the bored looking boy behind the counter seems to be getting annoyed with you. “Can we have just a second?” Marcus asks, pulling you back and allowing another couple to go ahead of the two of you. “I’ve completely forgotten what I wanted.” He takes the blame, not wanting to embarrass you.

“Bread?” You manage to supply, feeling like a world class idiot for clamming up on something so routine. If being around him is going to be this big of a problem, you need to get yourself in order.

“Yeah, bread.” He nods, wrinkling his nose slightly. “What’s that type that I like?”

At this point he could mean him or he could mean you, or he could even just be speaking in theoreticals, but you have you head in straight enough again to blow out a breath and remember yourself. “Sourdough. I forgot the damn word for sourdough.”

“Thats it.” He snaps his fingers and looks back at the boy. “Could we get some sourdough bread?”

“Sure.” The kid looks at the both of you like you’ve gone insane but turns around to bag a loaf of freshly baked bread without a second thought for his strange customers.

Marcus pays for the bread, even with you huffing beside him and guides you towards the clearing. “That wasn’t that bad.”

“Only because you saved me from sputtering like an idiot.” It’s beside the point that he is also the reason you were sputtering in the first place. That doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that you couldn’t keep it together that bothers you. “Thanks for that.”

“Not at all.” He waves off your thanks. “Everyone has those moments.” He promises, smiling at you.

There is such a moment of relief when you exhale again that you have to make light of it or else you’re in danger of feeling far more grateful than is probably necessary, and that makes your chest ache in a dull and insistent kind of way. “That’s either very sweet of you or a complete placation, but either way I appreciate it.”

“No placation, I promise.” He crosses his finger over his heart and smiles at you. “Anywhere else?”

“That was the last thing for me.” Even though you have plans to have dinner with him that night you still can’t help feeling a little disappointed that the impromptu shopping trip has come to an end. “Unless you needed something else?”

“Well…” Marcus looks around, not wanting to let you leave just yet. “Maybe I could find a plant to kill?” He asks. “Something to brighten up my place?”

"Bit of a black thumb?" The excuse to not say goodbye yet is welcome, and you end up smiling more broadly than you mean to. "Let's see what we can do about that."

“More that I forget to set up someone to water my plants when I go out of town and they die miserable, thirsty deaths while I’m away.” He flashes you a guilty grin. “I’m a murderer.”

“Very rude of you to do to your plants.” The wholesome, straight-faced nod that you cry for cracks on a giggle, though, and you nod in the direction of an entirely different florist stand than the one you were at before. “What you need is a succulent.”

“That sounds a little dirty.” Marcus admits, not even realizes how flirtatious that sounds.

It does. And you didn’t mean for it to. You were just talking about the type of plant he could get. But then there’s that grin on his face and it’s so fucking puckish and * handsome* that you practically groan about how unfair the whole damn thing is. “Whoops?” You offer, obviously not apologetic in the least.

He snorts and winks at you again. “I don’t mind. Sometimes being a little dirty is a good thing.” It’s borderline inappropriate, so Marcus doesn’t say anything else.

“Sometimes it’s the fun of an otherwise boring day.” But since you’re genuinely afraid you might say too much if you go ahead with this line of thought, and since Agent Bailey is steadily avoiding your eyes like an older sister trying not to bear witness to your trouble making, you clear your throat and change the subject. “I think I snake plant would work for you. They’re really easy to care for and great for beginners or busy people.”

Marcus takes your lead and nods seriously. “I’ll take some advice. Any advice.” He shrugs slightly. “I wish I had the time for pets, but I don’t and it’s wrong to do that to them.”

“If I could have a dog, I would have a little corgi or a Yorkie in a heartbeat.” It comes with an almost wistful sigh, but you feel the same way he does. It would be cruel to the animal you’re supposed to be taking care of. “But since I have no concept of work-life balance? I have plants.”

“I’ll start with plants.” Marcus huffs. “If I can keep one alive? Maybe I’ll move on to cats? They are low maintenance.”

“Cats are fantastic. Sydney and Anna Leigh always had a couple when we were growing up and they can’t be the sweetest animals in the world.” There is a florist that specializes in succulents and potted plants further into the market and you head that way, chatting as you go. “I just always said I would want my kids to grow up with a puppy.”

“Puppy, a swing set in the yard and dinner together.” Marcus adds wistfully, having his own version of that same dream. “Every kid needs a puppy pal.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” And the knot in your stomach tells you that that isn’t a coincidence — that the future you’ve dreamt about probably lines up with the one he wants in so many different ways.

“We had my dog for nearly twenty years.” Marcus tells you. “He was my best friend and the best soul I’ve ever met.”

“I got Alex instead of a dog,” you giggle, silliness tinging the edge of his sweet nostalgia. “My little brother.”

“Isn’t a younger brother the same thing?” He asks with a grin.

“Very much so. And Alex is as much Golden Retriever as he is human.” If he were here, he’d give you so much grief for that comparison, but you stand by it. “What kind of dog did you have?”

Marcus chuckles. “A golden retriever.” He tells you without skipping a beat. “I’ve got a picture of him, wanna see?”

“Absolutely!” They say you’re either a kid person or a dog person, but you’re definitely both. Anything cute and squishy is right up your alley.

Digging out his wallet, it might be a little old fashioned to carry a physical photo of the favorite family pet, but he likes looking at it sometimes. He’s holding his dog, Hansel, in the picture. The white around the dog’s snout indicative of the older age of the golden retriever. “Here he is. Hansel.”

“What an angel!” If you could jump right through the photo and squeeze his beautiful face you would — the only problem is that you don’t know if you mean young Marcus or the dog.

“Wasn’t he?” Marcus hums happily. “He slept in my room growing up. Hated me leaving for college, although I hated being apart from him too.”

"How could you possibly leave that face? Look at him!" Yeah, it's definitely the dog that you're talking about. At least right now.

“Yeah.” He smiles down at the photo, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the canine face with happy memories flooding through him. “He was the best.”

"So would you want another Golden Retriever?" Looking between him and the photo, you think you might be able to guess the answer yourself. "Or will no other Golden ever live up to him?"

“Probably not.” Marcus shrugs. “He was from a litter of puppies at the shelter. It was just a coincidence that he was a pure Golden.” He frowns slightly. “I would want to adopt. It’s the best way to give a loving home to an animal.”

"Adopting is the only way." On that, you can firmly agree. But you point to the florist stand up ahead and touch his arm gently in an unconscious moment of casual comfort. "First, let's get you a plant to adopt."

“Yes, I would prefer adopted over nursery grown.” Marcus jokes, trying to ignore how easy it is to be with you. You can just be a friend. It’s possible and it’s possible he’s lying to himself.

"Wild, orphaned plants wandering the lonely roads with all their belongings tied up in a little bandana on a stick," you tease, conjuring the image of a cartoon orphan as best you can. To the girl behind the counter, you turn your full attention and the best conspiratorial smile you can conjure. "We're looking for something he'll have trouble killing," you confide with a chuckle. "Something like a snake plant, maybe? Or if you have a better recommendation we're all ears."

“It’s best to start them out with a plant before having pets or kids, isn’t it?” She asks with a grin, eyeing Marcus in amusement. “But he seems like the trustworthy type to me.”

"A fine, upstanding citizen if ever I saw one." The smirk you offer her is playful, and you glance up at Marcus beside you. "Plus, I'll be keeping an eye on the situation. For the good of the adoptee, of course."

“Of course.” She nods seriously, even though there is a definitely shaking to her voice, like she’s holding back laughter. “Let me show you the best options for a recovering black thumb.”

It's several minutes of back and forth with the florist who parries your playful banter well, and you end up leaving her stand with not just a lovely potted snake plant for Marcus, but an identical one for your apartment as well. "I had to!" You coo, when Marcus laughs at the little plant that you're cradling like a newborn. "It's so precious! And they're twins! I couldn't just leave it abandoned."

“Well, we have to name them.” Marcus decides. “Twin names.” He grins at you, “what do you think?”

"Luke and Leia," you joke right away, because that will always be the first pair of twins you think of in any situation. "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum? Oh, do the creepy girls from The Shining have names?"

Considering The Shining was his first foray into horror when he was younger, it was also one of his favorites. "No, they were just called Grady Daughters one and two." He tells you. "But..." He whips out his phone. "They are Lisa and Louise Burns, in real life."

“So are the plants Grady and Burns, or Lisa and Louise?” Either way they’re exceedingly silly choices, and you’re going for it.

“Either one works for me.” Marcus laughs. “It depends on if the plants are male or female.” He jokes.

“I think we probably get to pick,” you joke right back, making a show of rolling your eyes at him even though you’re laughing.

“Hmmmmm.” He pretends to take a closer look at his plant. “I’m going to surprise you.” He decides. “My plant is female.”

“Oh, that’s no surprise to me.” The smirk you shoot back at him is probably the lightest and most carefree you r felt in ages, and just for the moment you’re not going to second guess it. You’re just going to revel in the moment. “All my plants are female.”

He snickers with you and then tilts his head. “Lisa or Louise for you?” He asks, before he answers. “I bet you want the name Louise. You’ll pretend it’s for Thelma and Louise.”

“I—how—” Staring at him in utter confusion does not help matters one bit, but you still don’t have any clue as to how he could possibly have guessed that about you after only having met you two whole times. “So?” You ask after a second, realizing you’re laughing with the absurdity.

You have the most beautiful laughs Marcus has ever heard, and he loves that he caused it. There’s a flash of guilt that comes with the thought and he decides to reel it back into the scope of reality. You are becoming a friend, nothing more. “Who wouldn’t?” He asks, still chuckling. “They were the greatest female duo in modern cinema. In my opinion.”

“They line up against Idgie and Ruth from Fried Green Tomatoes.” You’ll stand by that pairing until the day you die, but the way warmth is spreading through your chest and your fingers ache dully from wanting to reach out for him is a special, damning sort of agony. “And I will die on that hill.”

“I had completely forgotten about Idgie and Ruth.” He admits, hanging his head in shame. “Forgive me.”

“Just this once.” There is still a teasing grin on your face when your phone goes off in your pocket. Sam’s name splashed across your caller ID and guilt crawls through your veins immediately. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, glancing up at Marcus. “Just give me one second.”

Marcus catches a glimpse of the name and it’s like he’s doused with cold water. “Of course.” He murmurs politely, turning towards a little book stand to give you some privacy, beating himself up for flirting with another man’s significant other.

“Hey honey.” The second you pick up the phone with a plant in your other arm and your groceries weighing on your shoulder, that is the second you feel most self-conscious.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice comes over the line and he has a straightforward attitude, jumping into the reason for his call. “I’ve had a dinner invite tonight, some potential donors.” He tells you. “Can you make it?”

“I—” It’s not like it’s an unusual request. If he has a work event tonight then the best possible person he can have at his side is you. The idea of having dinner with Marcus had been so uplifting, and now cancelling on him makes you feel awful. But this is your boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it. Where and when? Is there a dress code?”

Sam rattles off the address and dress code. “Thanks honey, I knew I could count on you.” He tells you before he murmurs to someone else. “Hey, I’ve got to go, I love you.” The line clicks off immediately.

“I love you too.” It’s said to the silence, and you look down at your phone for a moment before pocketing it again. Marcus has stepped away to give you privacy, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other before walking back over to him. “I’m really sorry,” you murmur, actually looking as apologetic as you feel. “Can we postpone dinner tonight?”

“Oh….yeah, of course.” He hates the way the feels rejected, but you have priorities, ones that aren’t him. “That’s no problem at all.” He nods quickly and looks around. “Well, we should probably get your things to your car, right?”

“I—I’m really sorry.” Repeating it just makes you feel worse. But both of you feel worse, unbeknownst to you, and you walk in the direction of your car with Agent Bailey her usual two steps behind. “Something came up.”

“Not a problem at all.” Marcus promises you, plastering on a smile as you turn to him at your car. “I understand. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of things come up.”

"It was really nice to run into you today." There is no word of a lie or even exaggeration in that, and you take your flowers from Marcus's arms carefully, loading it into the backseat with your other bags and Louise the snake plant.

“Yeah, it was nice seeing you. Marcus holds up his plant. “Thanks for the help.” He hums. “Hopefully I won’t kill Thelma.”

"If you do, try to make it as spectacular as possible." Offering him a half smile, you realize that you just wish you could give him a big hug, but that would be totally out of line. So instead all you can think to do is shift your weight awkwardly again before opening your car door. "I'll see you around, Marcus."

“See ya.” He nods and turns around to walk to his car. He doesn’t turn around, knowing that it would look weird if he did.

Once you’re in the car with Agent Bailey and focused on getting back home to put everything away and make a cup of coffee before you have to start getting ready for the night, you sigh softly and sit back in your seat. You can feel the curiosity of the Secret Service agent beside you and you wonder if you look as guilty as you. “That was a nice surprise.”

“Yes.” Agent Bailey hums. “Special Agent Pike was quite a surprise.”

“He’s nice,” you defend, very aware that you’re defending yourself and not him.

“He’s very nice.” She agrees. “And exactly who he says he is.” Of course a background check had been done on the agent, which she was glad of now that he had popped back up on radar. Not quite sure what to make of the interaction at the market, it’s also not her place to judge it.

"Well, that's a comfort." The drive back to Alexandria won't take long, but you twist your hands around the steering wheel a few times before pulling out into traffic. "Unfortunately, tonight will be the opposite," you tell her with a dramatic sigh that cushions the blow of having to attend an impromptu event. "Sam asked me to come to a dinner party tonight. Last minute invitation, I guess somebody had a seat they needed filled and asked him."

“I see.” Now she has to find out where you are going to be, who is on the guest least and it means overtime tonight. She doesn’t sigh, but she wants to, much preferring to go to small Indian restaurant over some political function. “I’m sure it will be a lovely evening.”

"I know you have to vet everything." The process seems exhausting, but you would never question the agent's ability to get her job done. "It's a private party at Arthur Connesby's house. The aerospace tech guy? Apparently it's a party for his wife, but everybody invited are Sam's constituents. I have a feeling they're going to spend the night trying to pitch their own interests to him, but if nothing else they might donate to his next campaign if they feel like they got to be friendly with him." It sounds like it will be a fairly boring night of overly rich old men feeling self-important, but Sam asked you to be there and that's why you're going.

“Noted.” The agent is immediately firing off a text to her support team, letting them know about the change of plans tonight.

"I know it's not what we had in mind." The night has gone from staying home and watching a movie and maybe playing cards, to dinner out, to an entire party. It's a lot of jumps in not much time. "And I appreciate you being flexible. Truly."

“It’s my job to protect you no matter what.” She reminds you softly. She enjoys you, has gotten to know you and thinks you are lovely, but you are Hummingbird to her. The First Daughter of the President of the United States and her assignment. She would guard you regardless of what you were doing because it’s her job.

"Right." You nod slightly, eyes cast back out on the road, and try not to slump even a little as you drive. It's not necessary to be everyone's best friend. You know that on a practical level. Right now your energy is better served focusing on the night ahead. "Well, I can still be grateful. So thank you. For...being professional. An very good at your job."

She knows that you are disappointed, but one of the cardinal rules of the secret service is to not be emotionally attached to your assignment. It would be too difficult to make life or death decisions. “Protecting you has been my pleasure.” She promises.

"I appreciate that." For better or for worse, the Secret Service will be a part of your life for the rest of your life. So if you can't be friends, at least you can appreciate each other. For now, though, you ought to focus. A party with your boyfriend's constituents is no place to have your mind wander.

The dinner party is exactly what you imagined it would be. Self important people, boasting about how important they are as they fawn over ‘more’ important people. Or the people who could give them access to the power they wished to have. Sam was in his element, smiling and shaking hands. Listening to ideas with a feigned interest that comes naturally to politicians.

He's charismatic enough to keep their attention but has enough of his own heart left that he does seem to care about issues being brought to him. Unfortunately for these folks, they're talking about a whole lot of things that just one man can't change on their behalf. So all he can really do is listen and express interest in whatever plight it is they have.

You have found yourself in the rather unfortunate position of being inundated by the significant others of these men, and when the party turns to mingling after dinner they somehow manage to whisk you away to the garden where you aren't sure if they're planning on trying to get you to dance with various people, or maybe join their country clubs, You really can't tell which.

“You must tell me, how is living in the White House?” One asks you, under the impression that you are still living with your mother.

“I understand it’s very comfortable.” It’s almost a relief that these women seem not to know a thing about you beside who your mother is. Your greatest fear about the whole thing was being hounded through every day of your life — so far that hasn’t been the case. But it’s been barely more than a month. There’s time. “However, I chose not to reside there.”

“Oh, what a shame.” She hums, wondering why you wouldn’t want to call the most famous house in America home. “I hear that it’s haunted.”

“That is what they say.” And according to your little sister, it’s absolutely true. But an upscale party of relatively stuffy guests like this doesn’t seem like the place to spout tales of your sister taking her homework to the Lincoln bedroom. “And it’s certainly very beautiful.”

“I would love to take a tour sometime.” She tells you, hoping that you might offer to set it up for her. An intimate tour would be amazing.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” You aren’t the sort of person who would exchange favors, so the thought that this could mean a donation for Sam’s campaign in the near future. Instead, you just know it would be something nice. “I can have something put together for you if you like?”

“That would be lovely!” She exclaimed, sending you a warm smile. “You know, you and the congressman make a beautiful couple. Possibly even presidential one day.” It’s a fishing expedition, feeling you out for your thoughts on a possible run.

"Possibly." And two weeks ago, you might have beamed at that implication. At the idea of Sam moving through his career with such gusto and motivation that he makes it all the way to the White House. But seeing what your father contends with as First Gentleman, the idea of being First Lady sounds overwhelming to you. It's even less likely that you would end up in politics yourself. "Sam takes his work very seriously, and he has high hopes for the future of our country."

“And what about you?” She asks. “You made waves, positive ones in my opinion, during your mother’s campaign about your stance on soulmates.”

"I don't have any political ambitions for myself." Of that, you can absolutely assure her. "While I'm more than happy to support the people around me, I'm very happy with my own career."

“At least until Congressman Chase makes an honest woman out of you.” She hums. “Then it’s so hard to balance your own career while supporting the ambitions of your husband.” There’s a rueful chuckle on her part. “Believe me, I know.”

"I won't be giving up my career." This is always a topic of conversation amongst significant others, you've found, and a topic that your father has contended with on multiple occasions. As your mother's career grew, he became a stay-at-home-dad and raised three kids. Because it was something he wanted to do, not because it was forced on him. And that has always been the key to you. "I own a business. So it's essentially my first child already."

“Oh?” Her brows wing up in surprise. “My apologies. I must have misunderstood.” Her eyes slide past you. “Excuse me, I must go catch Mrs. Jackson before she leaves.” She cuts off the conversation and hustles away.

It's a bit on and definitely abrupt, but the conversation wasn't very enjoyable to begin with so you smile politely and just let it roll off your back. Whatever she 'misunderstood' doesn't really concern you. Some gossip article must have speculated on the next steps of your relationship with Sam and you try not to let that kind of nonsense get to you.

“Having fun?” Sam comes up to you, his hand slipping around your waist and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You look amazing, especially since it was so last minute.”

"You always like this dress." The first time you wore it was the nominating party after the Democratic National Convention, and then again to a fundraiser in Chicago. That was the night you met Sam, and he had remarked even then that the dress was particularly beautiful. It seemed like the logical choice for tonight based on that alone. "It's a nice party." The food was predictable but tasty, and the drinks are flowing, just like the way you expected the night to go. "Do we think there will be birthday cake?" You ask conspiratorially, looking up at him beside you with a smirk. "Is that something people still do for fancy fiftieth birthdays?"

“Cake is universal.” Sam snorts and nods. “I have it on good authority the cake is a chocolate raspberry mascarpone cream cake.” He tells you, knowing it will be an idea you carry back to Sydney.

"I know exactly what Saturday's dessert special is going to be." Somehow your best friend will turn a classic cake into something elegant and thoughtful, and you know the entire restaurant will go nuts for it. They always do, when Sydney gets to show off. "Are you having a good night? I know you had high hopes for networking tonight."

“It’s going well.” He hums happily and beams at you. “How about you? Working the other side for me?” He teases playfully, aware you don’t usually like campaigning.

"Nothing that will get me in trouble with my Mom's staff." Not that he would ever ask you to do anything like that. Sam doesn't go in for most of the entitled bullshit that other politicians do. "One request for a White House tour that I'll put through the appropriate channels. Nothing too odd."

“Interesting.” Sam looks thoughtful. “Who asked for that?”

"Shelly D'Amario." The wife of District Attorney-turned-Superior Court Judge Raymond D'Amario was one of the few people you had recognized from press coverage of events supporting your mother's campaign. Her husband's politics were lined up with most moderate Democrats, and he tended to hand down verdicts with thoughtful conclusions at the end of each case. He's one of those people you wouldn't have minded at all sitting at this dinner party with, but unfortunately the Judge was not able to attend.

“Oh.” Sam nods. “I was at another dinner with her and the judge just the other night.” He tells you. “Picking his brain about Constitutional law.”

“She was very nice.” Though instinct takes over, and you chew on your bottom lip for a second before going on. “Did you guys talk…about me at all? About us, I mean? At your dinner?”

“Well, naturally you came up.” Sam admits with a slight frown, wondering if Shelly had somehow insulted you. “Not everyone is dating the daughter of the current sitting President. But I didn’t share any private details about you.” He promises. “Or your family.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that.” If he was the sort of person who went around sharing personal details with anyone and everyone, you wouldn’t have been able to trust him. Especially not under the condition you met in. Campaigns are cutthroat. “She just…said something that kind of confused me, that’s all.”

“What confused you?” He asks, trying to recall the exact details of the dinner with the judge and his wife.

Without wanting to imply that he might have said anything, you still glance around you to make sure that Agent Bailey is the only one close enough by to overhear you. “She seemed to be under the impression that I would be quitting my job if we ever have a family. And when I said that wasn’t the case, she said she must have ‘misunderstood’ something and walked away immediately.”

Understand dawns in his eyes and Sam shifts slightly. “Well, that’s not something we’ve talked about just yet.” He reminds you. “That’s a conversation we need to have.”

"Right." You couldn't agree more. "Which is why I was confused that she seemed to have heard an opinion about it somewhere before. But it was probably just some gossip article."

He hesitates and then decides to come clean, you don’t like liars. “I might have voice my hopes for our future.” He admits. “It’s not so unexpected, is it?” He asks. “I’ll be spending a lot of time at different events and I will want you by my side.”

"Sam..." There's disappointment in your voice that you don't bother to hide. Of course he's absolutely entitled to talk about hopes, as he puts it, but you can't believe that he would ever think you would give up the inn. "I own the place, honey. It's not like taking a smaller role in an office or shifting to part time somewhere."

“Yes, you own it.” Sam stresses. “But you can have someone else manage it.”

"But I don't want to have someone else manage it." It's really like you can't believe your ears. Sam has never voiced anything like this before within the dynamic of your relationship and he knows very well how proud you are of your work at the inn and how much it means to you.

By the set of your jaw and the frown on your face, Sam knows that he can’t argue the point right now. He shakes his head, smiling at you and taking your hand. “You’re right. I—I wasn’t thinking about how much you love your inn.” He admits softly. “Let’s just forget about it, hm?”

"O—okay." There he is again. Your understanding, supportive Sam smiling at you and taking the stress out of the situation. The man you started dating almost a year ago. Dependable. "Okay."

“Good.” He pats your hand gently and leans in to kiss you softly. “But I do still want to talk about moving in together.”

"After our date on Tuesday?" The Valentine's night you had settled on together is dinner at a small, family-owned restaurant in his hometown followed by a fundraiser screening of short films made by local high schoolers looking to update their school's resources with the proceeds. Community-oriented is the theme of the night.

“That sounds appropriate.” He agrees with a nod. “For now, let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening.” He looks towards your secret service agent. “Will you be allowed to come to my place tonight?”

"I think that can be arranged." The invitation means you'll be sleeping over at his place twice this week, which is definitely more than you've been able to do lately and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe you just need to refocus yourself. And stop thinking about Marcus, for fuck's sake. You slip your arm around Sam's waist and lean into his side. "I just have to let Bailey know. Her relief agent will have to be told to go to your place instead of mine."

"Of course." Even though it irritates him, he nods. Understanding that you cannot help it right now. After your mother's term, perhaps you will decline protection.

"I know it isn't perfect." He's bristled about lack of privacy before, and though you can't say that you really blame him? There's nothing you can do about it. Secret Service protect for the President's immediate family is mandatory. And hell, you have a Secret Service agent in your apartment every night. At least when you stay with Sam, your agent usually stays in the living room or their car like a stakeout. It's typically left up to them. But still, you do understand the objection. "I'm sorry. It is what it is."

"I know." He sighs softly, hating that the evening has been sidetracked from what he imagined. "I understand. I just don't like them be so close when we are alone." He admits.

"I know." The last five minutes have become increasingly uncomfortable, but you still stick close to Sam and continue smiling, aware that eyes at the party might be on you just like they are anytime you go anywhere outside of your little haven at the inn. "But better that, than someone breaking into your house."

He doesn't point out that he has a security system and his townhouse is in a gate community. There's no point and it would just further cause an discussion that is best left for the relative privacy of his bedroom - with a secret service agent parked outside in his living room. He sighs. "Shall we get more wine?" He asks, trying to change the subject.

"Sure." There are people starting to dance to the music being piped through outdoor speakers, but you're not really in a dancing mood. There's too much swirling around in your mind to be light on your feet. "Wine sounds like a good plan."

Sam leads you over to the bar, ever the gentleman and stands beside you to look at the drink selections. "They have a nice pinot grigio." He murmurs softly.

"Is that what you want too?" The bar is open, of course, but the catering company has allowed the bartender to put out a small and discreet tip jar for the reasonably large party tonight, and you have a few more bills in your purse that you're happy to add to the jar.

"I think I'm going to stick with the pinot noir." He tells you, holding up his almost empty glass.

You order both glasses without hesitation and tip the very pleasant bartender, handing Sam his glass after it's put on the bar top. Just something nice to get the night back on track. At least as far as the two of you go.

"So I think that we should drink our wine and then dance." Sam suggests. It would be a good visual and romantic as a bonus. He's not calculating, but he does understand that optics are important in politics. It's a good opportunity to romance you and look good for the discreet photographers that are roaming around.

"And at some point, eat cake." Trying to lighten the mood a little is really your go-to for diffusing tension in any situation, and the air around the two of you feels a little thick, so you offer him a big smile instead of getting serious again.

"Eating cake is always a good way to spend a night." Sam agrees, smiling back at you.

"Morning." You haul yourself into the restaurant's kitchen the next morning when you arrive bright and early for your eight-a.m. start time looking vaguely less drowsy than usual. The other member of your Secret Service detail — Agent Sisson — has music taste more in line with yours and you'd listened to Duran Duran on your way back to town this morning. That and a cup of strong coffee means that you're feeling okay but definitely in need of breakfast.

“Wellllllll,” Sydney’s grin is bright as she eyes you. “I see the walk of shame has taken on a festive air.” She teases, laughing as she moves over to pour you a cup of coffee. “I take it last night went well?”

“I have enough time to go upstairs and change before work,” you grumble, though you’re smiling and accept the cup of coffee gratefully. “Usual boring party, but I bring you home a new cake flavor combination to try, and it was nice to see Sam.”

She snorts. “Nice to see Sam.” She mimics. “It’s like you ran into him in the store.” She huffs at you. “This is your boyfriend. The man you love.”

“And that’s why it’s nice to see him more than just one measly night a week.” Given that you have a few minutes, you hop up on a stool at the counter beside her work station and groan in appreciation at the slice of sweet Italian brioche and carefully cut piece of frittata she plates up for you without hesitation. “Oh my god, thank you. All I’ve had so far is coffee. We overslept and both had to run out to get to work on time.”

“Overslept…” she rolls her eyes and rubs her stomach. “I wish I could remember what that was like.” She grumbles. “This one is giving me heartburn all the time and keeping my sleep short.”

“They just really want to make sure you remember they’re there,” you tease, picking up a forkful of frittata and not even caring what’s inside. Everything Syd makes it incredible. “Twenty-seven whole more weeks of this, Mama. Get excited!”

“I am, I promise. But the kid can let me sleep in a little, right?” She huffs playfully. “So how was the dinner? You came back from the market in a hurry so I didn’t get to talk to you. Did you forget about this or was it last minute?”

“It was last minute. He got a spontaneous invitation to a potential supporter’s wife’s birthday party.” Oh my god, spinach and artichoke frittata, so fucking good. “She got the gift of bragging rights that a Congressman and the First Daughter came to her party, and a very nice bottle of champagne.”

“Sounds like a ton of fun.” Sydney likes hobnobbing even less than you do, preferring to be on the service side of fancy events. “So you ate mildly bland catered food and drank way too much wine?”

“Exactly. Which is why this tastes even more incredible than usual.” You point at your plate even while scooping up another bite. “So did you and Juanito ever decide what you’re doing tomorrow? I know you scheduled yourself for the dinner rush, but you’ve got to do something.”

“My husband is amazing.” She promises, beaming in delight. “He actually got us reservations at St. Regis for the Valentine’s Day Afternoon Tea.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet! It’s so utterly romantic I could barf.” The momentary flash of jealousy is nothing, and you’re genuinely happy that they’ll be able to get out and do something. They work so incredibly hard and never complain for a second. “It’s perfect, Syd. I want a full report.”

“I’m excited.” She admits, biting her lip and fiddling with her practical silicone wedding band that she wears in the kitchen. “I’ve also been promised a very relaxing massage and a few orgasms.”

“All things which you deserve very much.” You raise your coffee cup in salute to her and grin.

“At the very least.” She huffs, her own grin one of pure happiness. “I am growing Badillo’s baby.” She reminds you, as if it isn’t common knowledge at this point. She’s so proud of being with her soulmate and she cock her head at you curiously. “Have you given any more thought to that tattoo?” She pries gently.

“Yes and no…” It’s much more yes than no, if you’re honest with yourself, but the fact is that it’s probably not good to think about it as much as you have. It’s like a never-ending loop in your mind and you absolutely can’t shake it. “I just don’t know what good it would do to bring it up. Or who I would even bring it up to.”

“You know who you should bring it up to.” She huffs.

“Who?” You challenge, feeling like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place without doing so much as being awake this morning. “My boyfriend of almost a year who asked me to move in with him and wants to start planning our future? Or the guy I barely know who invited me to dinner yesterday when I ran into him at Eastern Market and looked so hurt when I had to ask him to reschedule that I still feel like I kicked the world’s cutest puppy?” Clearly it’s been on your mind, and Syd is really the one person you can talk to about any of it. But admitting that you’ve been thinking about Marcus feels like cheating and you have always despised cheaters deeply. Being cheated on will do that to a person.

“You ran into Marcus?” Her eyes widen with the new information and she immediately sets down her spoon and walks around the counter to hug you. “Oh honey, talk to me. What happened?” She asks softly. While she might be pushing you to at least ask if you might be soulmates, she doesn’t want you to be upset.

“It wasn’t a big deal…we ran into each other and we finished our shopping together.” It’s such a relief to have a space to talk about it, and yet you know you’re blowing it out of proportion in your head. It was just a coincidence that you ran into him. Not fate. “We were both talking about wanting Indian for dinner so he asked if I wanted to go to the restaurant with him. We were just going to hang out. Then Sam called.”

“And of course you said yes to Sam.” Sydney doesn’t exactly approve of the way Sam seems to think that you wait for his call and will drop everything to accommodate him, but she doesn’t say anything. “How did Marcus take the change of plans?”

“He said he understood and that it was fine.” Which is, technically, what happened. So when you shift your eyes away from hers, Sydney makes a noise and you cave. “He seemed disappointed,” you admit, throwing up your hands. “But I’m probably just projecting that.”

“Anyone would be disappointed to not spend time with you.” Sydney defends immediately, always the best cheerleader for you. “Maybe text him and reschedule?” She suggests. “Friends have dinner, it’s not cheating. You aren’t going out on a date.”

“I know it’s not cheating.” Syd knows better than anyone why you hate liars and cheaters. “I texted him on my way in this morning to reschedule, but I don’t…I don’t know if he’ll respond. He was probably just being polite asking in the first place.”

“I doubt that.” Sydney had seen the covert looks that each one of them had given the other when they weren’t looking during game night. Both of them were curious and she is interested to know about that hummingbird tattoo, it’s not common, despite what you might say.

“Then it’s because I’m best friends with his friend’s soulmate,” you reason instead.

“No, it’s because Juan said that Marcus was trying to be polite but that he was interested in you.” Sydney tells you.

You feel the blood drain from your face shamefully fast, and your eyes dart up to meet your best friend’s. “He said that?”

“Yes.” She isn’t going to lie to you, Juan had told her that. “But, he also said that Marcus respects relationships and he’s not the type of man to make a move on you if you’re in a relationship.” She knows how you feel about that kind of thing and she agrees with you.

“Well…I mean…that’s good? Isn’t it? That just means he’s respectful.” Still , you find yourself sitting on the idea that Marcus likes you and being halfway between mortified and grinning. It feels ultimately childish and yet like your chest is filling full of something very much like joy.

“According to Juan, Marcus Pike is the best man, the best person that he’s ever known.” Sydney acknowledges with a nod, deciding not to comment on your giddy expression. “Even though he was busy with training at the academy, he was always helping with housework or running errands to take care of things.” She shrugs. “His ex-wife was a med student. So I guess she’s a doctor now.”

“It’s just a coincidence.” This mantra of yours is going to get old quick, but you have a partner. A long term one, even. One that until a week or so ago, you had thought you had a future with. Now that resolve is waning and you don’t really know how you started to question yourself so easily.

Sensing that you’ve dug your heels in, she backs off, giving a small shrug. “I’m sure it is.” She hums. “So what are your Valentine’s Day plans with Sam?” She asks. “Did he plan something romantic?”

“We’re going to dinner and then a community fundraiser in his district.” It doesn’t sound romantic, you will admit that, but anything too luxurious you did can be perceived in a very wrong way by the general public if it gets out. A Congressman and the First Daughter going to a spa getaway or the symphony would be seen as being out of touch with the people. “He…wants to talk about the future.”

“And you don’t sound like it’s a conversation that you are eager to have.” She sits down, her own herbal tea in front of her and she frowns slightly.

“I’m…not sure, honestly.” Without hesitation and without filter, the explanation about your conversation with Judge D’Amario’s wife and what Sam said at dinner with them comes tumbling out of your mouth and you can’t help but cringe to yourself when you get it all out in the open air. “Am I overreacting? Please tell me I’m overreacting.”

Sydney winces and gives you a small shrug. “He has known from the beginning that you aren’t the type to want to be a typical politician’s spouse and give up your career.” She reminds you. “Remember that night out in Alexandria? Where we were bar hopping? I had a very frank conversation with him about that.”

“You did?” Your forehead scrunches as you take a sip of coffee. “Then why would he think I would be willing to have someone else manage the inn?”

“I don’t know if I can answer that.” She admits quietly. “But I think he gave them his true ideal. You quitting and being by his side for all his accomplishments.”

“It’s not that I’m not proud of him.” Some would argue that that is what it signals, but you and Sydney are not those types of people. “He’s doing such good work, and I do want to have kids and a house and all that domestic stuff. I just…I don’t want to give up working. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life standing behind a podium waving politely. I’m—I want to be me, not an extension of my partner.”

“I know that.” She reaches out and takes your hand. “But does Sam? Really? I think that he can convince you that it’s what you want.” She huffs. “I know he’s a good guy, but is he the right guy?”

“Not everybody finds perfect,” you remind her quietly, knowing that that is exactly what she has with Juan. Their version of perfect is about support, respect, and unending silliness, and you’ve always craved the same. But there aren’t many men in the world like Juan. Not many at all.

“That doesn’t mean you need to settle.” She tells you, squeezing your hand gently. “If you are happy, I’m happy. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“To be honest?” Closing your eyes for a second to swallow a sigh, the best you can do is shake your head. “I didn’t think I was settling. But now I can’t help but wonder…”

“Then you owe it to yourself, and to Sam, to make sure before you commit any further.” She suggests, knowing that you would feel horrible about divorcing later on.

“How?” It’s an honest question, since the situation is tangled up in guesses and implied maybes. “Break up with Sam because Marcus might be my soulmate? What happens if I’m wrong and I regret the whole thing? Sam would never take me back and I would deserve it.”

“Ask Marcus to show you the tattoo.” She hums. “That’s not cheating. It would be no different than seeing him in swimming trunks.”

“If he ever responds to me.” Which you sort of doubt. You sort of did just drop plans with him the second your boyfriend called. But you are the kind of person who makes your relationship a priority. You always have been.

“And if he doesn’t….” She shrugs. “You just deal with that.” She frowns. “But I would be upset if you had done the same to me.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t have a right to be upset with me.” Marcus has a right to feel however he feels. He’s human, after all. “This whole thing is just so out of left field. Especially after spending all of last year talking about freedom of affection and being happy with a partner who isn’t your soulmate.”

“Except you had never potentially met your soulmate.” She pauses and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, if you don’t want to pursue it, don’t. Juan won’t say anything and I’ll just encourage him to hang out with Marcus on a guys night.”

“I don’t know,” you admit honestly, poking at the remains of your breakfast with a frown. “First let’s see if he speaks to me again. I gotta go change my clothes for work.” A heavy blanket of tension works on you that wasn’t there when you came home, and you drag yourself off the stool with a swallowed sigh. “Thanks for breakfast, honey.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs, wishing for a moment that Juan hadn’t run into Marcus. Hadn’t mentioned a tattoo that was throwing you into a spin. “I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thank you.” Coming around the counter, you wrap your arms around her tightly and inhale, trying to remember your yoga and let the stress roll off your shoulders and not carry it into the work day. “And I’m always here for you. No matter what.”

“I know.” She grins into your shoulder. “You’re my best friend, bitch.” She teases. “I will go to war for you, bury bodies and not even think twice.”

"No hesitation." You link your pinkies together, the same way you have since you were little kids. "I really have to go change now. But thanks for listening to me ramble and fret."

“Anytime.” She scoffs, waving away your thanks. “You’ve listened to me plenty.” Lately it’s been about being a good mother and not completely wrecking Baby Badillo, but she understands the need to just vent. You’re there for one another, both of you, through thick and thin.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #love triangle

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joelswritingmistress · 1 month

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You Scare Me Professor (Chapter 57 - The Final Chapter)

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Healing. There would be an infinite amount of healing to do; though over the next six months there were little victories that aided in the process. Will plead guilty. It was an act that everyone was shocked about and ultimately it spared Carol a lot of extra heartache that she didn’t deserve. The evidence was already stacked against him, but now that Will admitted guilt, Carol would not have to sit on a stand as a defense lawyer grilled her and tried to twist her trauma around. For that, everyone was thankful.

Upon a leave of absence for the remainder of the school year, Carol returned to her job in September. In turn, she received a standing ovation from the student body and gained the full support of the staff there. Again, another part of the healing process. I knew Carol was hurting, but she persevered and thrived in her profession. She was going to make it because that’s what women like Carol did. They rose above. They made it.

“She even started coaching volleyball,” Joel informed me. “She was all-state in her younger days.”

Joel. My Joel. I had no issue calling him that all the time now. I tried to prove him wrong every day, and after a little bit of time and a lot of convincing I think it’s clear to him now that I will forever keep his secrets.

He went into a temporary retirement, and I changed my mind and pursued the rest of my Master’s Degree online. Without having to twist my arm too much, Joel convinced me to travel a bit to get away from New York State for a short while. It was therapeutic, to say the least.

I allowed him to take me to Nashville near the end of the summer, and then over to the Grand Canyon. We spent two weeks exploring California, extending our stays from a little ranch near the Joshua Tree, up to San Diego where I unsuccessfully tried surfing and concluding in wine country as autumn really set in. We hiked Washington State, made our way to Yellowstone Park, spent a few romantic nights on Lake Michigan before making it back to the East Coast in time for Halloween, where we crashed the small city of Salem, Massachusetts. It was the perfect ending, really.

Joel found us some cheap masks, and we blended in with the crowds that literally paraded every downtown street in the area. It was welcomed chaos and we spent the day taking pictures with spooky characters, sharing laughs, having some drinks and waiting in lines to slink into shops littered with folklore and magic.

When a light rain began near nightfall, Joel towed me away to a rooftop bar at the top of our hotel where he’d made a reservation earlier in the day. A gentle pitter-patter on the roof of the outdoor patio where we sat was relaxing. It was soothing music to our ears after a day of crowds.

From where we towered above the world, we could see two lighthouses in the distance over the blackened water. Below, people still gathered by the masses for whatever attraction, bar or restaurant they were seeking - if anyone.

“Here are your drinks.” A waitress came back to our two-person, high-top table with a pair of martinis and I sighed as she walked away.

“Ready to go home?” Joel asked, smirked as he placed a hand gently on top of mine.

My fingers squeezed around his and I nodded. “This has been a wild ride.”

“Happy Halloween.”

I grinned again and raised my glass. “Happy Halloween.” Our glasses tapped together and Joel leaned two-thirds of the way across to peck my lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kissed me another time and then settled back in his chair. At the same time, we took sips from our drinks and I felt my body relax.

“This has been great,” I told him, unable to think of another adjective. “It really revived me.” I gave a nod and looked him in the eye. “How do you feel?”

“A lot better.” He grinned and added, “Thank you for sticking by me. You had every right to run in the opposite direction. You still do.”

“Dr. Miller,” I said sternly, making him chuckle. “I’m going to need you to stop trying to convince me to leave you. Unless you’re secretly trying to get rid of me.” I sipped on my cocktail and kept my eyes on his.

Joel leaned forward, never breaking eye contact. “I would never want that.”

“Then stop saying things like that,” I ordered lightheartedly, leaning back toward him just a little bit.

“Okay,” he agreed, “I’ll work on it.”

“Thank you.” When he lingered, I leaned forward and left a long, closed-mouth kiss on his lips. When I pulled back he was grinning and I chuckled.

“I’m thinking the exact opposite of that, actually.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I want you to be with me forever.”

I felt a blush form on my cheeks and I couldn’t help but smile wider. When Joel leaned back, reaching a hand into the pocket of his khaki pants, I felt like my body went numb. And then he pulled out a small, black box and pushed it across the table. I was frozen. My eyes were glued to the box and if it was anything other than what I thought it was, I knew it would be like a kid opening an empty box on Christmas.

“What’s this?” My words barely made it out past my lips.

Joel’s eyes remained on mine as he opened the box. My eyes dropped, staring at the silver ring in the center of it. A Diamond sparkled even in the dim lighting.

“Marry me,” he said quietly, linking his hands to mine on either side of the ring.

“Marry me.” I repeated the words to myself to make sure I heard them right. “Marry me.”

“Marry me,” Joel said again.

My gaze found his again and finally the tears that welded up in my eyes were tears of joy. “Okay.” I laughed and cried at the same time, “I’ll marry you.”

“Yeah?” He kept his voice quiet as mine grew louder, drawing a few glances from other patrons in our direction.

“Yeah.” I giggled and put my face in my hands as I continued to cry at the same time. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Joel!” I popped my face up. “Yes! Yes!” People were staring at us now and Joel looked around the immediate area, giving a wave and a smile before returning his attention to me. He reached for the ring in the small, black box and slid the ring on my finger.

I jumped up from my seat and I couldn’t help it. I rushed around the table and threw my arms around him, pulling him in to kiss him hard.

“I thought Halloween was a fitting night for us to get engaged,” Joel admitted, holding me close as he spoke in my ear. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“It’s perfect.” I whispered back, holding him close as my fingers gripped the hair on the back of his head. “I love you.”

“Did you two just get engaged?” A female voice shouted from a few tables away.

We both pulled back, still holding onto one another and I responded by showing off my ring. “Yes.”

The costume-clad crowd in the immediate area all began to clap and I couldn’t contain my wide, beaming smile and the tears that continued to fall. When a waitress got wind of it, she brought us over a bottle of complimentary champagne.

“I know it hasn’t even been a year since we’ve known each other,” Joel said, “But life is too short to wait. You changed my life, (Y/N). I’ve never loved or trusted someone more than you. I don’t want to ever risk letting that go.”

“I know how you feel.” We shared another kiss and then took our glasses toward the edge of the balcony that overlooked Salem. I couldn’t help but smile to myself.

A breeze passed through and made me shudder, causing Joel to pull me close.

“Any regrets?” He asked.

I smiled up at him. “None, whatsoever.”

**Thank you everyone for following this story. I appreciate everyone reading, reviewing and following. It made it fun to write. This is the longest story I've ever written and it's been fun because people were interacting and guessing whole the killer was and I loved it. It made it great for me, as a writer. So THANK YOU!

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandojojo @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @smolbeanzzz @bandluvr97

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socialjusticeinamerica · 11 months

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They don’t even know of a time when life was better in America. Actually Gen X was the first generation in America not to do better than their parents. The same being true for the last few years of the Boomer generation. Y also is struggling.

The lady Boomers and X’ers remember what it was like before Reagan took over and busted unions in 1980. Wages dropped, factory owners took their shops to the Deep South where unions had long since been busted or never allowed to set up in the first place. Then the oligarchs outsourced their work and shuttered factories nationwide.

Before Reagan one parent working 40 hrs a week at a union job could afford a mortgage, a new car, medical insurance, and college for their 2.5 kids. That also applied to “minorities” or marginalized people who benefitted from union protections and negotiated standard pay scales.

With Reagan a home went from two years salary to 10+ years salary. Tuition did the same. Cars that cost a month’s salary soared to a year’s salary. Wages have remained stagnant for about 40 years. The wealthy paid high taxes and we had everything. Now the remnants of the middle class pay the bulk of taxes while multimillionaires and billionaires pay little or even nothing. Credit card interest soared to over 20% in some cases while Republikkkans passed laws making it easier for those card companies to sue you whilst making it nearly impossible for you to sue them. Mentally disabled people were literally dumped into the streets causing widespread homeless which is criminalized in affluent areas and red states. Guns and drugs flooded the streets. Bigoted white nationalists became radicalized when Reagan granted Australian Rupert Murdoch citizenship so he could open Fox News and then shut down the Fairness Doctrine so propaganda could be spread under the guise of news.

All the societal problems we suffer today began with the birth of the modern RepubliKKKan party led by their racist Dotard Ronald Reagan in 1980. The GOP became an organized crime syndicate and the government became a tool for the rich. The middle class shrunk from a sizeable percentage of the population to a handful of areas in the north and along the west coast. Many foolish people believe themselves to be in the middle class but in fact they are just perpetual debtors.

If you’re young your first reaction might be to blame the Boomers because that’s incorrectly become a marketed belief. The Boomer generation fought against the GOP and its wars, racism, pollution, big oil, corporate welfare, and black hole military industrial complex. They were the hippies and political activists that marched on Washington and other places. They booted the racist Dixiecrats (southern conservative racist Dems) from the Democratic Party while shifting educated liberals left. Sadly the GOP under Nixon and his colleagues welcomed the racists and conservative nut jobs. Don’t fight a generational war when you should be fighting a class/culture/political war.

The younger generation needs to educate itself about the political parties and how life was better just a few decades back and begin to vote. Vote, then organize in the workplace through unions and in the streets to attract more young voters and to counter protest the Republikkkan right-wing oligarch take-over of America. Complaining and taking refuge in the internet won’t turn things around. Become politically active, become stoke, bring back lower tuition, affordable health care, labor unions, workers rights, voters rights, etc.

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vs120shound · 14 days

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Can argue that no SF model/actress for defunct Lady Madonna Productions had any of its Smoking Angels reach stardrom. Naveire here did not but should've. A "Poster Child" for Marlboro 100s!

NAVEIRE RELAXES WITH HER TRUSTY MARLBORO 100s!

Super Stardom never claimed Naviere from LMP, based in Washington state (U.S.A.). Get the feeling this Marlboro 100s Gal was never tempted to try any other brand for any reason at any time. Lady Madonna was famous for a stable of nearly exclusive smokers of Marlboro Lights 100s! Cannot say she strayed for she is a Marlboros-only kind of BHYSW (Beautiful Hot, Young Smoking Woman)! Only several hundred of them sprinkled about SF!

Say Hello to Naveire. Should have been done long ago before today's introductory video post! She's been in SF since the turn of the century!

Dual-Media 2-Post, 44-Pack Megapost!

Lady Madonna Productions, from Washington, U.S.A. (perhaps in the Greater Seattle area), had a fine little SF shop going just after the turn of the century and boasted some unique qualities in contrast with the other SF websites of the time. Most noticeable was the marching out of SF models/actresses who had a strange affinity towards one brand ⏤ and one brand only ⏤ Marlboro Lights 100s. Two models, one of whom was Naveire, preferred Marlboro 100s and there were two Camels Filters Gals and three who were Newport 100s Babes as well. More than three-quarters of the stable expressed allegiance to ML100s. Naveire, with Latina blood from at least one biological parent, collected two votes when firming up the Honorable Mention awardees for the "unofficial" official Top-25 all-time favorite SF models list released here on vs120s-1 nearly 15 months ago. Two votes didn't do it ⏤ but, although we are big fans of Naveire, that was the just result! Why? Well, for starters, this could be her debut post in our franchise in terms of a video as the media. That would have been ironic for an SF model/actress to make "The List" without any video of her posted. Did not happen. So we threw something together to get her in to our domain video-wise. The first half of our compilation video is from Instagram@instasmoketv uploaded on April 13, 2024, with the longer, tail end of our clip uploaded on April 16, 2024 by Instagram@ciggietime10. Attractive young lady, most likely in her mid-30s by now, or older, who had a fine smoking style except for her squarely established tendency to produce consistently weak and shallow exhales. . . . and . . . she is the spitting image of the young adult daughter of one of our administrators here, who is N-S but experienced a "light-bulb"/"duh" moment when she was informed that smoking hookah was actually smoking tobacco! A BHYSW who isn't!

Photographs of Naveire of Lady Madonna Productions (all from its Facebook page)!

Previous Post on Our Network of Naveire!

From vs120shound on August 28, 2022, a re-blog of lung-masturbation-2 . . .

Videoframes (Screen Captures) of Our Centerpiece Video Clips!

Compiled by vs120shound staff!

YouTube Videos of Naveire!

From YT's "Girls Smoking in Silk Satin" webpage in 2022 . . .

youtube

From YT's "Sexy Smoking Glamour" webpage in 2022 . . .

youtube

From YT's "LadyMadonnaSmoker" webpage in 2010 (full scene) . . .

youtube

From YT's "LadyMadonnaSmoker" webpage in 2009 . . .

youtube

From YT's "LadyMadonnaSmoker" webpage in 2009 . . .

youtube

From YT's "Puff Pass" webpage in 2015 . . .

youtube

From YT's "Puff Pass" webpage in 2015 . . .

youtube

#SF #Hot women who love smoking cigarettes #Smoking cigarettes #Smoking #Naveire of Lady Madonna Productions!#Naveire from Washington state!#Marlboro 100s Gals!#Instagram@instasmoketv!#Instagram@ciggietime10!#YouTube!

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buckybarnesb-tch · 2 months

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Hybrids Mafia Princess Pt3

Series Masterlist

Tag List: @a-beaverhausen @ranisingsnew @ronswhoree @susannahmikaelson @skulliecadaver-blog @yeaiamme2 @nataliewalker93

Compelling Tony Stark to plan the party was surprisingly easy.

Klaus had found that Tony was an exuberant, spirited and animated person who was much too into over indulgence so when he announced a birthday party for his dog, no one was shocked. His dog was old and a loved member of their family so it worked out and the irony was not lost on Klaus, knowing that James forcing his daughter to go to a birthday party for a dog after what he had just done to her dog was a cruel and painful thing that her father wouldn’t think twice about but that she definitely would.

Waiting was the only painful part of his plan and so he distracted himself by focusing on getting Y/n away from New York. Just from listening to her talk and watching her for the last few days he knew she loved rainy/cloudy weather, preferred having privacy, and wanted to be around nature. He had found a perfect house in Washington state that he knew she would love (and knew her father would have trouble finding) that was in the woods away from other people, in a rainy place with plenty of privacy and a maid and chef already hired to work the house. Not to mention he will have an army of Hybrids to help protect his mate as soon as he finds a wolf pack to turn (which in Washington won’t be hard). He bought everything she could possibly want and everything he thought she would like, especially as his Princess had absolutely no experience in sexual situations and he would be able to teach her everything he wanted. An inexperienced Princess with Daddy issues? She would be so eager to please she would give him anything he wants.

The party came about a week after him getting shot and he stayed off to the side away from as many people as possible unless Tony was “introducing him” to one of James’ friends, thinking it would be beneficial to have them compelled to like him at the very least.

From the moment she walked in, Klaus couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He wanted to tear that dress away from her, she was gorgeous and he found himself mesmerized, even as he felt the glare James Barnes had set on him as Klaus wasn’t exactly being subtle about him ogling his mate. James directed Y/n into one of the rooms with himself and his wife while he went to schmooze with the assholes and Klaus waited, watching his girl and watching James as both himself and his wife began drinking with Tony (as Klaus had compelled Tony to do to excess) before approaching Y/n.

She was sitting in the corner alone with the long forgotten “Birthday Boy” who was a white XL Pitbull named Ghost.

‘Mind if I join you?’ Klaus asked and her head jerked up in surprise.

‘Oh, sure, if you want. Though I’m sure you would be much more comfortable over there.’ She nodded her head over to a group of women by the bar. Parties for people like these men always have the option of women to take home, many of the men never getting married and staying “terminal bachelors” as if it makes them attractive. Klaus believes it just makes them stupid. You have everything except someone to love you and give you a family but you’re content with whores for the rest of your short life? At least Klaus had eternity to find Y/n, when you don’t have that kind of time and you waste it you are just stupid.

Y/n had noticed the girls that had been watching him for the better part of an hour with flirty faces, twirling their hair but he never gave them a second glance which Y/n noticed immediately. Growing up here, every man, even the married ones, stared at those sort of girls at every party but this attractive seemingly single guy isn’t…it struck her as odd but she brushed it off until now.

‘No, here is perfectly comfortable, thank you…I’m Klaus. It’s nice to meet you.’ He held out his hand and when Y/n moved to take it Klaus pulled her hand close and leaned down, pressing his lips to her knuckles, never taking his eyes off of hers.

‘It’s lovely to meet you Klaus. I’m Y/n Barnes, though I’m sure you knew that.’ He could instantly see that she had issue with her name when it came to meeting people.

‘I did know that, Tony told me earlier when you arrived, why are you so sure though?’

Her eyes widened and she stammered a moment. ‘B-because-Well because everyone does. People want to get on my fathers good side and they act like getting to know me first will achieve it. A little advice, just so you don’t fuck yourself on this one. My father hates men talking to me, so getting to know me first is a terrible plan, he’s going to hate you before he even meets you so you should probably just go introduce yourself to him.’

Klaus found the sad look in her eyes to be heart breaking. Her entire life she wasn’t allowed friends, boyfriends, interaction with anyone who didn’t work for her father and even at these parties, something she should enjoy if not just for the human interaction, all anyone and everyone wanted was to get to her father. Men flirted with her and made her feel desirable just to pull the rug from under her by wanting to get on her fathers good side.

‘Thank you, that was very kind advice. However I have no interest in your father, I was just hoping to sit with a lovely girl and have a drink…can I get you a drink?’ She looked stunned but shook it off before nodding her head.

‘Sure Klaus, that sounds nice.’ He moved to the bar and got her a glass of wine and him a bourbon before returning to the couch, sitting on the opposite side of the dog, wanting her to move closer at her own pace knowing it will make her feel more comfortable. ‘Thank you. Are you a new friend of Tony’s? I’ve never seen you here before, the faces here are always the same so it’s easy to spot a new one.’

‘Yes, we met a few weeks ago and he invited me to this, said he wanted me to meet some of his friends. I’m a painter you see, and Tony has bought some of my work, he knows some other men here who love art and might like my paintings.’ Y/n smiled at that, loving that he wasn’t another asshole just trying to use her.

‘Oh wow, I would love to see your work sometime. I admit I’m not much of a great judge but I enjoy seeing how people’s interpretations of art differs from others.’ Klaus couldn’t keep the smile from his face, loving her honest and intelligent answer before standing and holding out his hand for her to take and she did, following him out of the room and into the den to see the paintings that Tony had bought from Klaus as an explanation as to why he’s here. ‘My God, Klaus! These are amazing…I like seeing artwork that makes you feel something…they feel angry but in a sad way, like…like a grasping for control sort of way.’ He watched her face as she looked at his work and he loved that he could make something that could make her smile. ‘Oh God, I’ve offended you, I didn’t-‘

‘Not at all gorgeous, you’re quite right actually. Painting is a metaphor for control. Every choice is mine, the canvas, the color. As a child I had neither a sense of the world nor my place in it but art taught me that one’s vision can be achieved by sheer force of will…you have no control in your life either, do you?’ She looked back at him away from the painting and he instantly reached out to brush away the tears in her eyes, hesitating only a moment as she flinched before gently brushing her tears.

‘How long did it take? Finding your place in the world?’ She asked and he wished he could give her an answer.

‘I have no place in the world…however finding people that you love and being with them makes it all worth living with the little control that you can have-‘

‘Why can’t I have all of it? My father gets to have complete control of everything in his life, and I’m just…’ Klaus took Y/n’s hand and pulled her to sit on the desk, looking at her firmly.

‘Listen to me Princess, your fathers control is an illusion, it’s called money and it’s not real. It’s a social construct that we put way too much worth on and pretend it means we rule the world. Your father is a billionaire, right?’ She nodded. ‘And with that he has men with guns to enforce his rules and push his sense of control on everyone, but if that money was gone that control wouldn’t exist. It’s not real. I mean look at me, I have billions of dollars in money, artifacts, paintings, jewelry, but I don’t try and rule the world. I control my life and what’s important to me, that should be enough…you should be enough and if you’re not then…then he doesn’t deserve you Princess.’

Klaus was sure to leave out the part about him planning to have an army and control much like that of her father but it didn’t matter, because he would do that and still take care of and love her the way her father didn’t.

The next thing he knew Y/n had grabbed ahold of his jacket and pulled him down to press her lips against his. He couldn’t say he was surprised, or displeased, resting his hands on her waist and taking control of the needy kiss. For having no experience she was actually quite good at it and she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her against his chest.

Just as Klaus was about to trail his hands down to her skirt they both jumped, hearing her name being shouted. ‘Hide!’ She whispered harshly.

‘Y/n-‘

‘No time for arguments, I’m not letting you get shot! Hide! Now!’ Y/n pushed him behind the desk and he sighed, crawling under it after pulling her in to kiss him one final time.

‘This isn’t over Princess, you’re mine now.’ He warned, enjoying the blush on her cheeks before she moved back around the desk to the wall where she looked back up at the painting before the door opened and Klaus could hear Steve’s voice.

‘Did you not hear me calling you?’ He questioned, exasperated.

‘No, I heard you, I just didn’t care.’ It took everything in Klaus in that moment not to laugh.

‘Y/n-‘

‘I would appreciate it if we kept all speaking to a minimum of what is absolutely necessary. Why did you come looking for me?’

‘Your parents are leaving, time to go home.’

‘Fine. Let’s go then, I want a shower and my bed.’ The door shut a moment later and Klaus moved quickly, crawling out and returning to the party before anyone suspected anything, watching the family leave.

He was happy to finally know what her lips tasted like on his own but it wasn’t enough. He would have her.

Tonight.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 7 months

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By: Louise Perry

Published: Jun 8, 2023

When we get home from the supermarket, our two-year-old likes to assist with taking the groceries out from underneath his stroller and carrying them to the kitchen. He will pick up a carton of milk and heave it towards the fridge like an atlas stone. “Well done darling” I say to him in a pitch slightly higher than usual, “you’re being so helpful.”

Of course he isn’t actually being helpful. In fact, he’s slowing down the process of unpacking and risking an enormous milk spillage all over the kitchen floor. But my goal is encouragement and kindness – he’s only two, bless him, and that carton is awfully big and heavy.

My husband regards these exercises with more of a gentle briskness. “Thanks mate” he’ll say in his usual tone of voice, excising my white lie. In this, I’ve learnt, my husband is typical of other men. In a 2015 study led by Mark VanDam, a professor in the Speech and Hearing Sciences department at Washington State University Spokane, researchers outfitted preschoolers and their parents with recording devices to monitor social interactions over the course of a normal day. The mothers, they found:

… used higher pitch and varied their pitch more when interacting with their child than with adults. The fathers, on the other hand, did not show the same pattern, and instead talked to their children using intonation patterns more like when they talked to other adults.

As an instinctive speaker of so-called ‘motherese’ – that is, baby talk – I find that when our son mispronounces a word (‘tawtah’ for ‘water’ or ‘mulack’ for ‘milk’) I will automatically echo it back to him, while my husband will automatically respond with the correct pronunciation. These differences persist despite the fact that we share childcare almost exactly equally within our family.

It turns out we’re not alone in this sex difference, and that it may well have some adaptive purpose. "We think that maybe fathers are doing things that are conducive to their children's learning but in a different way,” writes VanDam, “the parents are complementary to their children's language learning.” Mothers speak down to children, while fathers speak to them like equals – in combination, these two kinds of stimuli promote the development of adult language.

The adoption of motherese is an instinct that, in its correct context, is both comforting and developmentally useful. But it can also, in some circumstances, be dysfunctional. And, as I have become more and more fluent in it, I have started to notice that motherese is no longer confined to the nursery or the classroom, but is now to be found also in public life. Not in its full expression – “have you got a boo-boo, honey?” – but in a more subtle form.

I heard a lot of motherese, for instance, in the responses to philosopher Kathleen Stock’s appearance this week at the Oxford Union – a political event considered significant enough to attract commentary from the Prime Minister and rolling updates on the homepages of several national newspapers.

Students at risk of being traumatised by Stock’s mild-mannered, centre-left brand of politics were ushered towards ‘welfare rooms’ offering ear plugs, bottles of water, and snacks. “The Union has made the choice to amplify a voice that actively harms trans students, trans people and the trans community at large” wrote one student politician, “we’re tired of [the Union’s] refusal to listen to the communities they hurt” insisted another. It was as if Stock was a rampaging bully on the playground, knocking other children to the ground, and her critics were leaping to the defence of the persecuted toddlers.

Witnessing the backlash against her, you’d never guess that Stock’s only sin is to offer a careful academic critique of the doctrine of gender identity – that is, the claim that one can become a member of the opposite sex (or some other identity category in between) merely by force of will. As she reiterated in her Oxford Union speech, to reject this doctrine is not to deny the humanity of trans people, but rather to balance their interests against those of other people, particularly women.

But I am by no means the first to notice an unexpected feature of the crowds that formed outside the Oxford Union this week, and indeed all of the crowds that congregate in support of trans activism (now a regular occurrence, and not just in the Anglosphere). While the occasional acts of outright aggression are overwhelmingly committed by men, the crowds in general are mostly composed of young women.

Polling reveals this to be a wider pattern. In the UK, women – and particularly young women – are far more supportive of trans activism than are their male counterparts. The same gap can be seen in US polling. The public figures who have received the most flak for their criticisms of trans activism are disproportionately women – I’m thinking not only of Kathleen Stock, but also of JK Rowling – and yet so, too, are the movement’s most devoted allies. This is, in the main, an intra-female conflict.

But if trans activism poses a threat to women’s interests – as Stock and Rowling insist that it does – then why have so many women come out in support of it? I want to propose two explanations for this seeming paradox.

Firstly, in socioeconomic terms, the women who have the most to lose from the disintegration of female-only spaces – prisoners and domestic abuse victims, for instance – are not actually the same women who are draping themselves in blue and pink flags outside the Oxford Union. This is a textbook example of what Rob Henderson has termed a ‘luxury belief’ – an idea that confers status on the rich, while causing harm to the poor.

But then I am begging the question, because why on earth would trans activism confer status on the rich, or indeed anyone? This is where we come to the second factor: the extraordinarily well-documented differences in personality that have been observed between male and female populations cross-culturally.

Note that there is a crucial distinction to be drawn between average and absolute differences. It is not true that all men or all women exhibit only masculine or feminine personality traits, in the same way that not all women are short and not all men are tall – rather, average differences between the sexes are obvious only at the population level.

One trait on which men and women differ substantially is agreeableness. To put it bluntly, women are usually nicer than men – that is, they are “more nurturing, tenderminded, and altruistic more often and to a greater extent than men,” as psychologist Professor Yanna Weisberg puts it.

This nurturing instinct often finds its way into polling on political questions. For instance, a typical study from 2017 asked 3,014 college students the following question: “If you had to choose, which do you think is more important, a diverse and inclusive society or protecting free speech rights.” 61% of male students chose to prioritise free speech, compared with only 35% of female students – exactly what you would expect from two populations that differ in this most crucial of traits.

Don’t think that I’m bashing agreeableness per se – it’s one of those personality traits that really does offer advantages and disadvantages all along the spectrum. Disagreeable people are often rude, but they can also be refreshingly honest; agreeable people are often pleasant, but they are easily taken advantage of. Think of agreeableness as motherese: soothing and lovely in the right circumstances, cloying and foolish in the wrong ones.

The problems arise when an agreeable style of politics gloms onto a group that seems to offer plentiful opportunities for babying. Right now, it is trans people who have found themselves in the hot seat (or the high chair). For just one example of this babying tendency in action, observe the progressive response when then-66 year old Caitlyn Jenner came out as trans (a response parodied exquisitely in a South Park episode titled ‘Stunning and Brave’). When Glamour honoured Jenner as the magazine’s 2015’ Woman of the Year' – despite the fact that Jenner had not yet lived as a woman for a full year – I couldn’t help but hear the high pitched notes of motherese (“you look so pretty sweetie”, “well done that was very brave.”)

Observe, too, the trans celebrity Dylan Mulvaney’s recent appearance on Drew Barrymore’s talkshow, which culminated with Barrymore kneeling on the ground, looking Mulvaney straight in the eye, and offering a heartfelt pep talk on self-love. Some gender critical feminists looked at this scene and saw a woman prostrating herself before a man. What I saw was a mother kneeling down to reassure a young child – for some bizarre reason, Barrymore was speaking motherese to a grown adult on national TV.

At the risk of stating the obvious, trans people are not babies. Nor are they pets. They do not need earplugs and snacks to withstand an academic discussion, and they do not need to be spoken to like toddlers. Real two-year-olds may benefit from the gentleness of motherese. The rest of us need to grow up.

https://policyexchange.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/The-Politics-of-the-Culture-Wars-in-Contemporary-Britain.pdf#page=57

Women are more likely than men to say a trans women should be able to enter a women’s refuge, favouring this by a 36-32 margin while men oppose it 40 to 30. In fact, across all 6 questions pertaining to the trans issue (Stock, Rowling, refuges, gender identity, pronouns, teaching biological sex), women are significantly more supportive of the trans rights position even when ideology is taken into account. Women even exceed LGBT identifiers in their support for the pro-trans position on many questions.

Why? Is this not against the female interest? The likely answer is that women are more likely to be cultural leftists than men across most of the 25 attitudinal items in the survey. The inclination to empathise and care for groups perceived as vulnerable best accounts for the pattern. The result of the empathy dynamic is that the gender-critical feminist position, while intellectually prominent, is still a contested view among women. Indeed, the largest source of opposition to greater trans access to women’s spaces comes from cultural conservatives.

This isn't a war between men and women, as some would like to assert.

It's really a war between different denominations of feminism. Like Catholicism vs Protestantism. Or Sunni vs Shi'a Islam.

One thing that's hilarious and worth pointing out: gender-critical feminists will sometimes say things along the lines of, well that agreeableness was socialized into women by "the patriarchy" to make them compliant. Which means they're denying the same evolved sex-based differences that they started off defending. Like claiming to be a Catholic while denying transubstantiation.

Either sex-differences are real, and can explain different participation rates in physics and kindergarten teaching, different career priorities and trajectories (and thus, the mythical "pay gap") and different work patterns as readily as they explain differences in swimming, cycling and weight-lifting performance, making "the patriarchy" as unnecessary as a god is to the existence of the universe... or they're not, and the gender-critical argument goes up in smoke in the flames of social constructivism. God can't be both good and unknowable.

#Louise Perry #stunning and brave #gender activism #gender ideology #queer theory #genderwang #motherese #infantilization #mothering #western feminism #sex based differences #sex differences #religion is a mental illness

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she-is-ovarit · 7 months

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Ashli Streeter said Stevens Transport did not hire her because it had no women to train her. Credit...Montinique Monroe for The New York Times

The trucking industry has complained for years that there is a dire shortage of workers willing to drive big rigs. But some women say many trucking companies have made it effectively impossible for them to get those jobs. Trucking companies often refuse to hire women if the businesses do not have women available to train them. And because fewer than 5 percent of truck drivers in the United States are women, there are few female trainers to go around. The same-sex training policies are common across the industry, truckers and legal experts say, even though a federal judge ruled in 2014 that it was unlawful for a trucking company to require that female job candidates be paired only with female trainers. Ashli Streeter of Killeen, Texas, said she had borrowed $7,000 to attend a truck driving school and earn her commercial driving license in hopes of landing a job that would pay more than the warehouse work she had done. But she said Stevens Transport, a Dallas-based company, had told her that she couldn’t be hired because the business had no women to train her. Other trucking companies turned her down for the same reason. “I got licensed, and I clearly could drive,” Ms. Streeter said. “It was disheartening.” Ms. Streeter and two other women filed a complaint against Stevens Transport with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission on Thursday, contending that the company’s same-sex training policy unfairly denied them driving jobs. The commission investigates allegations made against employers, and, if it determines a violation has occurred, it may bring its own lawsuit. The commission had brought the lawsuit that resulted in the 2014 federal court decision against similar policies at another trucking company, Prime. Critics of the industry said the persistence of same-sex training nearly a decade after that ruling, which did not set national legal precedent, was evidence that trucking companies had not done enough to hire women who could help solve their labor woes. “It’s frustrating to see that we have not evolved at all,” said Desiree Wood, a trucker who is the president and founder of Real Women in Trucking, a nonprofit. Ms. Wood’s group is joining the three women in their E.E.O.C. complaint against Stevens, which was filed by Peter Romer-Friedman, a labor lawyer in Washington, and the National Women’s Law Center. Companies that insist on using women to train female applicants generally do so because they want to avoid claims of sexual harassment. Trainers typically spend weeks alone with trainees on the road, where the two often have to sleep in the same cab. Critics of same-sex training acknowledge that sexual harassment is a problem, but they say trucking companies should address it with better vetting and anti-harassment programs. Employers could reduce the risk of harassment by paying for trainees to sleep in a hotel room, which some companies already do. Women made up 4.8 percent of the 1.37 million truck drivers in the United States in 2021, according to the most recent government statistics, up from 4 percent a decade earlier. Long-haul truck driving can be a demanding job. Drivers are away from home for days. Yet some women say they are attracted to it because it can pay around $50,000 a year, with experienced drivers making a lot more. Truck driving generally pays more than many other jobs that don’t require a college degree, including those in retail stores, warehouses or child care centers.

The infrastructure act of 2021 required the Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration to set up an advisory board to support women pursuing trucking careers and identify practices that keep women out of the profession. Robin Hutcheson, the administrator of the agency, said requiring same-sex training would appear to be a barrier to entry. “If that is happening, that would be something that we would want to take a look at,” she said in an interview. Ms. Streeter, a mother of three, said she had applied to Stevens because it hired people straight out of trucking school. She told Stevens representatives that she was willing to be trained by a man, but to no avail. Bruce Dean, general counsel at Stevens, denied the allegations in the suit. “The fundamental premise in the charge — that Stevens Transport Inc. only allows women trainers to train women trainees — is false,” he said in a statement, adding that the company “has had a cross-gender training program, where both men and women trainers train female trainees, for decades.” Some legal experts said that, although same-sex training was ruled unlawful in only one federal court, trucking companies would struggle to defend such policies before other judges. Under federal employment discrimination law, employers can seek special legal exemptions to treat women differently from men, but courts have granted them very rarely. “Basically, what the law says is that a company needs to be able to walk and chew gum at the same time,” said Deborah Brake, a professor at the University of Pittsburgh who specializes in employment and gender law. “They need to be able to give women equal employment opportunities and prevent and remedy sexual harassment.” Ms. Streeter said she had made meager earnings from infrequent truck driving gigs while hoping to get a position at Stevens. Later this month, she will become a driver in the trucking fleet of a large retailer. Kim Howard, one of the other women who filed the E.E.O.C. complaint against Stevens, said she was attracted to truck driving by the prospect of a steady wage after working for decades as an actor in New York. “It was very much a blow,” she said of being rejected because of the training policy. “I honestly don’t know how I financially made it through.” Ms. Howard, who is now employed at another trucking company, said she had worked briefly at a company where she was trained by two men who treated her well. “It’s quite possible for a woman to be trained by a man, and a man to be a professional about what the job is,” she said. Other female drivers said they had been mistreated by male trainers who could be relentlessly dismissive and sometimes refused to teach them important skills, like reversing a truck with a large trailer attached. Rowan Kannard, a truck driver from Wisconsin who is not involved in the complaint against Stevens, said a male trainer had spent little time training her on a run to California in 2019. At a truck stop where she felt unsafe, Ms. Kannard said, the trainer demanded that she leave the cab — and then locked her out. She asked to stop the training and was flown back to Wisconsin. Yet she said she did not believe that same-sex training for women was necessary. “Some of these men that are training, they should probably go through a course.” Click the article to read more. The author is Peter Eavis.

#women in the trades #women's oppression #women truck drivers #truck drivers #sexism #misogyny

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kokote · 3 months

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Mark Tinker, chief investment officer and managing director at ToscaFund Hong Kong, says the West "spent years assuming that China was just another emerging market."

youtube

I think this is the central dilemma is that the West basically has spent years assuming that China was just another emerging market, and it was going to do exactly the same, and it was going to drive everything with lots of borrowing and lots of Leverage and the sort of, the Wall Street, and if you like the Washington consensus, what Xi told us two years ago was that's not what they're going to do they're not going to privatize and create a lot of monopolies which will allow massive rent extraction and very attractive profitability for corporates that we can all invest in. They don't see that as the role of the stock market or the state. Like I said, the state is there to provide, as it said, Common Prosperity.

China, they tell us what they're going to do. They told us two years ago that they were going to deflate the bubble in the housing market, not in the market, but in the developers. But we kept on buying the stocks in the developers. We kept on buying their overseas debt, and then we turned around and said "how's China done this to us? It needs to support this sector." We know it works in the west. The politicians say okay yeah we'll put lots of public money in to bail out the foles of private investment, but in China they basically said, well, we told you this was going to go, you're down 95%, sorry, but it's not that we're doing it deliberately against you, but we were just you know we told you what our priorities are, so I think there is value in China, but I think we have to understand that they're not following our script.

#China #Youtube #economy #transcript

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