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singeramg · 4 years

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Ruin Me

Quick little reader insert imagine based off this post. Based off a non-ask...

*Update: Now a full length story! Check out Masterlist for my chapters?*

Pairing: CEO! Henry Cavill x Female! Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Power imbalance, dom! Henry, sub! reader, fingering, dirty talk...

Song choice: Funny How Time Flies- Meshell Ndegeocello

PART 2 HERE

“ Y/N can you bring me a cup of coffee...please.”

His voice wasn’t raised but his tone told you all you needed to know.

He was not happy. Not happy at all.

He had called you from the phone in his office, not even bothering to call through the door or better yet come to the door himself which he usually did when he needed something from you and was in a good mood. You don’t dwell on it much and you get to your feet, and hustle over to break room to make a fresh pot of coffee.

It doesn’t take long; you wait the ten minutes to brew, taking note that your coworkers are packing up for the night. You look at the clock and realize you better do the same.

Although you have nowhere special to be the last thing you wanted to do on a Friday night was spend more time at the office. You didn’t complain much, the job wasn’t had for you. You hadn’t been with the company long but you were sure you liked it thus far.

You were Executive Assistant to the CEO of Cavill Industries. a company he started with his brothers years ago and had grown to be a world wide force. Henry Cavill may not have been the eldest brother but he certainly was the most determined and invested of the 5 and more so than any man you had met. This was why they made him the CEO.

You also thought that had something to do with the fact that he honestly was the best looking brother out of all of them.

The face of the company.

He had to stand out in a crowd, oh and Henry Cavill certainly did.

You could admit to no one but yourself that you had found him extremely attractive during your third and final interview where you finally got to meet him. If he wasn’t your boss, he would be exactly the type of guy you went for in terms of looks. Tall, dark curly hair, a jawline that could cut glass, dazzling smile and sharp blue eyes that seemed to pinpoint everything

Including any mistakes you made.

He had made adjusting to this new job hard for you.

Pointing out every mistake, forcing you to redo whole reports that people who got paid a lot more than you should have been doing

But nooooo

He ‘trusted ‘ a.k.a could hover over you while you fixed it.’ causing more late nights and overtime than you cared to think about.

Forget a social life, everything had to be about him.

You had to be everything.

In your job interview nobody had mentioned you would be basically in charge of his life.

Dry Cleaning, arranging his groceries to be delivered, you were even his dog walker on the days he brought his cute Akita Kal-El to the office.

Yea that was totally fun in the heels he forced you into everyday.

You had tried wearing respectable flats after your first week with sore feet and he vetoed that almost immediately.

Saying it wasn’t “seemly“ and that you were the assistant to the CEO and you should dress like it. Needless to say half of the time you wanted to slap him. The other time you were ridiculously turned on. I mean despite being an ass sometimes he played right into your masochistic streak. The way he spoke to you, wasn’t nasty but it had a very direct way that left no room for arguing or confusion. Just like with the heels. You normally would have argued your point, maybe even seen if he would come to some sort of compromise but you didn’t with him. You just kept the flats in your car and a pair under your desk for when you were sitting at your desk and for the days he was out of office.

That sort of sneaky was not like you at all. You just preferred to pull off the band-aid so to speak, but Mr. Cavill was not for any of that.

All you said to him when the response he wanted was obvious was a yes sir or no sir.

You made his coffee just as he liked two cubes of sugar, and a splash of cream. He always would like three extra cubes of sugar on the side, adding the extras depending on how his day had been going. The more sugar added the better his day. You walk as smooth as you can to his office, the large dark door. You don’t bother to knock, sliding open the door to his office, begging your heels not to catch on the floor. You sit his coffee on the desk, to his right, and far enough from his hand that he doesn’t accidentally knock it over.

You smooth out your black mid length dress, and try not to fidget with your red belt that gives a retro theme to the look, and you even had a red purse and red blazer to wear with it (which you had ditched mid-morning). You slip back out the door when he doesn’t look at you. You pick up the tablet you use to keep track of everything on a mobile basis. You pull up his calendar and head back into the large office.

The office itself had never intimidated you despite the large solid oak desk in the middle of the room. It felt open because of the floor to ceiling windows that had automatic curtains that came down on command. You actually loved his office despite the fact that you didn't spend a lot of time in it. You re-enter his office, and stand in front of the desk looking down at the calendar.

“Okay before the day ends I would like to go over your schedule for the weekend.”

He finally looked up at you, his blue eyes giving direct contact, that you couldn’t hold and went back to the glowing tablet, where the sun was starting to set outside.

“You have a dinner meeting tonight which starts at 6:30pm; a 30 minute commute time which means you need to be out of here in the next 45 minutes, if you would like to arrive with your 15 minute grace period as normal.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, then takes off the reading glasses off his face and tosses them on the desk.

“Continue.”

“ Not too many things on the agenda for this weekend except for family brunch on Sunday. Your mother requests you arrive on time this time.”

You regulate a smirk to the side of your mouth.

“I’ve arranged for a bouquet of flowers to be delivered to your house by 9am for you to take over there to her.”

“I don’t suppose I have any missed messages from today?”

You look at him confused.

“Ummm....no. Were you expecting a call?”

He sighs and rubs the temples of his head, clearly upset something.

“No...yes...don’t worry about it. You’ve already arranged for a car for me?”

Yep, he was upset and he was not about to share it with you. You didn’t press him, only prayed it didn’t result in a hell of a clean-up for you later. You had been the bad guy with no less than 4 woman, all of them glaring and spiting nasty vitriol at you when you wouldn’t give them access to Henry. You had seen them all come and go.

“Yes.”

He looks you over, getting to his feet, walking over to the door you knew to be an en-suite bathroom and keeping his extra changes of clothes.

“ Do you have any plans for tonight?”

He asks you suddenly and puts you on the spot. You don’t even have a lie to cover up how pitiful your life was, but you had to try. He didn’t need to know you don’t have anything planned tonight but a glass of wine and catching up on your TV shows you missed for all the overtime you’ve been working.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

He asks almost immediately as if knowing you were lying. You had to try and get out of some crazy overtime he was known for. You didn’t want another late night in the office.

“Ummm...”

As noted earlier you didn’t think well on the spot. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“You know I don’t appreciate liars Y/N. Anyhow if you are done lying to me, the meeting for tonight requires a...feminine touch.”

“Feminine touch?”

You echo. He goes into the closet and you can hear him changing. You try not to think about him behind the wall.

“Yes. The people I am meeting with require a bit of finesse. The negotiations always go better when we bring our women to the meetings.”

“Soo... would you like me to call someone for you. I can have a dress sent over in their size to smooth the deal over.”

He laughs at you.

“No. Grab your things and call the car service to get here in 10 minutes.”

“ What stop the press? Are you putting me out of the office before you for once?”

You quip at him. He comes from around the corner his attire changed into a black button down shirt, left with the top few unbuttoned. He adjusts the sleeves and looks up with you.

“No you are going with me Y/N and we must hurry, you are going to require another dress.”

“But...”

“No buts. I need you and you are wasting time.”

He picks up a black suit jacket, his cologne hitting you with an umpf he walks by you to get to the car...

*********

The dinner had gone great from what you could tell. You saw a whole other side of Henry. One that was only observed under the rarest of occasions.

At least for you.

Overall you weren’t asked for much, Henry had bought you another black dress only this one was a bit more leggy than you were used to around such important people. Its spaghetti strapped and sweetheart neckline, offering way more cleavage than you would ever consider wearing around him, but Henry had literally come in with you, pulling it from the rack along with a few other choices and this was the tamest all the options he left you. You damn near had a panic attack in the dressing room. The women in the boutique had fixed your hair and makeup in the little amount of time you had, once again at Henry’s behest. You hadn’t be so pulled together since... well you couldn’t remember....

Henry had even been nice to you all evening, but you knew it was all an act, even if your body did respond to the compliments and lingering looks, the smile he would shoot you, he had even let his hands skim across your lower back.

You did your best not to read into anything. Had even gone along with the little game he was playing, being over sweet, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck, your hands lingering on his arms. Enough to suggest without being outwardly desperate and trashy. You were ever the smiling damsel to his associates, laughing at the jokes, ignoring the sexist comments about your dress or the ‘arm candy’ they referred to you as, despite it pissing you off.

You stayed to yourself most for the ride back to the office, and he stays quiet as well. Only then once the car parks do you realize in your haste earlier you left your keys upstairs. He insists he needs to come up as well to grab some files from his desk. You offer to bring them back down but he insists. You scurry to your desk, not finding them in the drawer where you usually kept your purse.

You don’t see them. You panic and look for them intensely.

Oh you hoped you didn’t leave them at the boutique where you changed dresses.

“Y/N. Could you come in here please? I would like to discuss something with you before you leave.”

He calls to you, the voice losing the soft tone he had with you all night, this only serves to make your blood run cold. Have you done something wrong? Said the wrong thing to the wrong person and cost him millions of dollars? You needed your job, and hoped pretty badly that this wasn’t the end of it.

You honestly couldn’t tell if you missed it or not. You disregard the thoughts you are having and push them back in your mind, offering to sort them out later. Preferably with alcohol nearby. You look into his office and see that he is standing behind his desk. Once you come in, thinking he needed something from you.

“Close the door.”

You close the door behind you, the lights on a dim shade, enough for you to see but not enough to over power your eyes.

“Did you need anything from me, because it’s late and I should be heading home...”

He surprises you by cutting you off in a tone that was even softer than any other time he had used with you before.

“I just wanted to say thank you for accompanying me tonight y/n.”

“You are Welcome. I’m just going to go...”

You smile and turn to leave but his voice stops you with a sharp tone that makes you freeze.

“Did I say you could leave?”

You feel your face get hot and you turn back around to face him. The lighting only showcasing the angles of his face, making you ever more nervous.

“No but Sir it's 12am...”

“I know what time it is. You are so stubborn all the time. Can’t even take a simple compliment.”

“I thought you were done.”

You shrug, and immediately regret being so nonchalant with him., his gaze intense.

“I wasn’t. Now before you interrupted me, I was saying thank you not only because you came with me but for playing your role so effortlessly. I didn’t expect you to be so ...reciprocating to me.”

“I figured that would be best. How would it appear if you showed up with a staff member we rather than a significant other like the other at the table.”

“Well your quick and astute observation saved me tonight.”

“All in a day's work. Now if I can just get out of these heels tonight and maybe into a pedicure tomorrow I will have made this all worth while.”

He surprises you by coming from behind the desk where he had been standing, coming to stand in front of you.

And you cursed yourself because it was back again.

The arousal you fought with every lingering look and touch he gave you tonight. How honeyed his words were with you, combined with the animalistic power you knew was just boiling under the surface.

“I have had many secretaries before and none of them take your position as seriously as you do. You put a lot of effort into your job and does not go unnoticed.”

Having him so close was unnerving. Especially when you had his direct attention. You can’t hold eye contact and look down at the floor. Henry touches your chin, his fingers tilt your chin up and you lock eyes. It wasn’t the first time you noticed the space of brown in his left eye, but the first time you were close enough to appreciate it.

You feel your pulse quickening.

“I don’t think I told you how beautiful you look tonight.”

He blinks slowly and you don’t breathe at all as his lips move toward your own. He is seconds away from kissing you, tension heavy in the room.

“Wait....Henry...I just...I Can’t go there.”

You say it out loud and it’s like someone let the air out of your balloon. He lets your face go and looks at you confused, for the first time you see just Henry. Not your boss, not the CEO who always had to be ‘on’ and in charge, you just saw Henry. His face was open and unguarded.

“It’s not that I don’t want you. It’s just you are my boss...”

Henry moves suddenly, and yet simultaneously time slows as he crashes his lips onto yours. The odd duality of soft, yet firm, calming yet passionate overtakes your mind and short circuits you. His hands are holding the side of your face on one side and behind your neck. His kiss steals what little breath you had away. You almost forget why this would have been such a bad idea but he pulls away.

“Darling, Didn’t anyone tell you? The boss makes the rules...”

He resumes kissing you and you offer little in the way of resistance as he picks you up, in fact you lock your legs around his waist and he deposits you on top of his desk. Everything you had been feeling for him was bubbling up in that moment. You were caught in being wanted to be treated like silk and wanting to toss him down and take exactly what you wanted in no uncertain terms of hatefucking him for all the jackass behavior he had exhibited since you started 6 months ago.

You slide his jacket off his broad shoulders, tossing it to the room, igniting the soft thud it makes when the expensive thing lands in a heap on the floor. He pulls your hips toward the edge of the desk and his large hands are hot as they slide up your skirt over trembling thighs and his lips move to your neck. He finds the sensitive spots there quicker than anyone ever had while also moving his fingers to play with your clit through the lining of the black lace panties you were wearing.

Your breath hitches in your throat and Henry grins against your lips, letting you take a second before he kisses you again. His fingers dance around before latching to the hemline and yanking them with enough force that they are torn from your body. Your hips sting from the pull, but you are more than turned on. You fumble with the buttons on his shirt, and don’t look at the skin revealed, but he doesn’t let you take it off him and instead pushes one of his fingers inside of you, you lewdly moan, and grasp his biceps quickly, having been taken off guard. It wasn’t that you weren’t wet, because you were plenty wet, your now ruined panties had been testament to that, but you had expected more of a playful teasing, but as one of your last coherent thoughts, you knew this man never wasted time.

He was a do-er...

And right now he was doing you. The amount of focus and precision he took in his work, pouring over contracts, logs, inventory and the like, he was putting in on you. As his finger moves in and out he is staring at you with such intensity you think you might explode.

“You are dripping baby girl. Melting right into the palm of my hand to be exact.”

He removes the finger that had been inside of you, raising it to his lips, tasting you from it, and you shudder. He kisses you again, you closing your eyes, then you hear in his deep tone like melted chocolate, luxurious to your ears,

“Open your eyes and suck them.”

He held two of his fingers and you opened your mouth. He wanted to hold your gaze.

“Get them nice and wet for me.”

You suck on them, imaging the girth that had been teasing you for months in his sacks, was what was actually in your mouth. You had wanted so badly to taste him and feel him you reach down, palming his obvious erection and you hear him growl. It was your turn to smirk, and as soon as he felt that smirk, he pulled his two fingers from your mouth and thrusts them into you.

You whimper and the one hand you left on his bicep clenched in, digging into his skin. His fingers glide in and out almost painfully slow. You need faster.You try to move your hips to make him move but he chuckles.

“That won’t work y/n. We do this at my pace. Be still or I will stop.”

He didn’t go any faster, his movements deliberately slow. You could tell he was getting a kick out this, and you whine again.

“Beg kitten.”

He whispers in your ear, his thumb teasing your clit again.

“Please.”

He moves a little faster.

“Come on love. You can do better than that.” Teasing.

“Please Henry...”

He slaps your thigh with a sharp tap and it sends the zing of arousal.

“That's not what you call me. Try again.”

While your brain is shorting out, you fumble on what he wants from you.

“I..i don’t know sir...”

He rewards you by speeding up more. Your torso drops backwards, your head follows as you rest back on your elbows, and legs move wider, making your dress bunch up around your hips.

“There you go. There’s what I was looking for. Now beg me to make you come.”

You worry your bottom lip, ignoring how your chest heaves, pulling against the black fabric of the dress.

“Fuck! Please sir please let me cum.”

“That’s more like it. Begging me like the dirty little slut you are.”

He speeds up, his fingers curling inside, tapping that spongy space that made your eyes cross and your vision blur. You didn’t think you would like being called a ‘little slut’ but it was more of a turn on than you had ever thought it would be.

“Sir let me cum please let me cum.”

His dexterous fingers speed up, his thumb rubbing your clit and you were glad no one else was in the office as your moans echo throughout the room.

“You want to be my good girl hmmm?”

You nod furiously, the edge of your orgasm coming up rapidly, as your walls begin their tell-tell sign of fluttering.

“Good girls wait until they have permission. You hold it.”

It was damn near impossible, but you try to focus on anything but how good his fingers feel. He pulls your body back up from the desk with his hand gripping behind your neck. His lips crash on your again, he lingers around your lips you breathe heavily against his lips.

“I’ll be your good girl!”

You yell.

“Good. Cum then come for me.”

It’s like the world goes silent and all you can focus on is his fingers as your orgasm pulls you under. It’s an out of body experience where you could hear your moans and groans of Henry’s name, where you were literally shaking, but you could bring yourself down. Destroyed, Henry is whispering praises in your ear. Calling you his and how good you were for him. It doesn’t take long to come back down, but when you do you feel wrung out, and as Henry pulls away, you notice the sheen of fine layered sweat on his forehead. You feel self conscious as he stares down at you, and without the haze of lust in your eyes it settles in you that your boss just gave you one of the best orgasms of your life and hadn’t even taken off his pants.

Pants that were currently begging you to be taken off. He begins to chuckle and you realize you’ve been staring at his cock outline, and he was laughing at you. He unbuttons his pants, and finally takes off his shirt the rest of the way, finally revealing the god sculpted body that he clearly worked for.

The look on his face says he is going to ruin you and you are going to like it.

Only then, as he begins to work on the zipper to your dress, do you look to your left on the desk and see your keys sitting there...

***************

A/n: Hope that was what you were looking for @thiccgeralt Hope this met your expectations and thank you!

I am thinking of coming back to this, but honestly I am waiting until @laketaj24 finishes her CEO! fic The Rules, because its so freaking wonderful and I don’t want to ruin anything by stealing any thunder with a CEO fic OR Ficlet I would plan on doing. BTW if you haven’t read The Rules then please do yourself a favor a go over to her page and check out all of her work. You will not regret a second of it....

However I am tossing this out to see if there would be any interest in a continuation of this fic. Let me know and as always thank you for reading, re-blogging, and liking!

Henry Cavill Taglist: (OPEN! Let me know if this is something you want on!

@msblkfire84 @magdelen69

#Henry Cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader

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abiteofnat · 3 years

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If you’re reading this, I’m coming back to Chicago, beetch

The non-existent rumors are true. After a brief 10-month exit from the city to soak up the fresh air and social distance-friendly suburbs, I am now returning to Chicago as a single, slightly more anxious version of myself. While I’m still trying to kick some of the anxiety and OCD that COVID-19 pushed from “lifelong tagalongs” to “all-controlling demons”, I feel 97% ready to be back where I feel most myself, and cannot wait to welcome that change. While that 3% still makes me a little uncomfy and hesitant, I’m a believer in pushing your boundaries to allow yourself to grow, and also, I am really sick of suburbs food.

Ha! I joke. I wouldn’t move downtown simply for access to more diverse & higher quality food... or would I? All I know is while there are plenty of gems in the North Shore, I’ve eaten take out from all of them ten times over, and I did not foster my dislike of cooking out of nowhere. My parents do not enjoy cooking, my sister pretends to enjoy cooking, and I will cook if it is 5 ingredients or less. My latest speciality is a toasted bagel with butter, hummus, and EBTB seasoning. Voila. So when it comes to dinner, we are living off of a carousel of suburban favorites, and are losing steam as we are still not comfortable with dining inside (or dining inside in the city, where the fun food is).

All of this to say, it’s exciting to imagine what life is going to be like in a few short weeks. While I’m still extra precautionary, I can’t wait to have my own space downtown, where I can enjoy coffee on my little balcony (!!!) and dream of the days friends can come squeeze into my studio safely while I lay out an entire table of sharable spreads and snacks from Ema (Charred Eggplant Spread is the best one, don’t fight me).

So you may ask, how did you come to this decision to move to the heart of downtown out of seemingly nowhere, you hermit?

It starts with my mom and I having a brief, simultaneous breakdown and coming to the conclusion that we would both feel comfortable doing a staycation downtown, as long as we wore masks, sanitized always, and braved the cold to eat outside. This was big for me! As a person with real OCD, not cute TV show “I have to keep my pens straight” OCD, this would be the most exposure I’d had to a lot of uncontrollable variables since the pandemic started. If you’re thinking, “you get to spend a weekend downtown in a hotel with your mom, shut up”, know that I hear you. I am unbelievably grateful that I’ve gotten this time with my parents, and that we can do a staycation. However, having anxiety comes at a cost, and that cost is blowing everything way the fuck out of proportion instead of being able to rationalize it sometimes. Let’s! Normalize! Having! This! Discussion!

So, we went downtown in early March for a two-night stay, and oh my goodness. The realization that we got to be in a different space, and do different things, and eat different food for a weekend made it feel like a legit vacation, and not like we drove 30 minutes to get there. The view from our room was of Michigan Ave, and hearing the traffic and seeing the people out and about instantly made me feel a sense of peace I wasn’t expecting. I’ve lived downtown for 6 years, but it always shocks me how much the city feels like an extension of me once I’m in it after being away. My mom and I went out for a walk (gentle yet forceful reminder to please wear a mask), then decided to grab dinner while we were out. The plan was to bring it back to the room, but there was a warm spell, and there just happened to be a table for two at Topolobampo on Clark, and suddenly we were sitting on the patio under the lights eating masa quesadillas dipped in a spicy salsa verde. It just happened!!!

Before getting downtown, I was tentatively looking at apartments for the spring. I was looking at Lincoln Park, Old Town, maybe Lakeview, and came across a listing in the Gold Cost that caught my eye. That one was swiped out from under me within days, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the area. Then I discovered another unit that was available, and couldn’t shake it from my mind. Over mushroom tacos I discussed it with my mom, and we decided to go see it. Totally not what I had been planning for in terms of location, but why not?

Once we polished off breakfast the next morning (Eggs Benedict with fried eggs, extra hollandaise) we headed out to see the place. Let me say I have never seen my mom fall in love with a single apartment I’ve lived in, and she was ALL. FOR. IT. Unreal reaction on her part. Once I saw the west-facing views and the incredible natural lighting, I was 100% in as well.

We spent the rest of the weekend wandering the downtown area, enjoying another dinner outside at The Gwen and my mom’s first visit to the Starbucks Reserve Roastery, which was 95% more empty than I’ve ever seen it given we went in a pandemic at 8:30PM. Shit on Starbucks all you want, but that Roastery is an incredible use of space (in non-pandemic times) and the coffee & Princi pastries are really, really good.

When we got back home feeling refreshed and like we had actually gone on a vacation, I jumped into apartment shark mode real fast and signed as many documents as the very kind realtor could send over. One week later, whabaam, I was a Gold Coast girl. Ahem, *lady*. What better way to celebrate than going to Somerset and having the Rapini & Roasted Garlic Flatbread and Wild Mushroom Risotto? No clue. As I sat outside, yet again with my mom, I felt a wave of excitement come over me and realized, this is it. This is the sign and feeling I’ve been waiting for, telling me it’s time to move back to the city and start over. The creamy, herbacious risotto also helped solidify that.

SO. After all of that, the news is I’m moving, and you’re probably wondering why I shared all of this on a blog about food. I meant for this post to be about everywhere I ate during my staycation, but realized quickly we ate at some very basic places - DELICIOUS, but still basic. Oops. Below are all the dishes I had and a rundown of the flavors, textures, etc., however don’t expect to find any new, revolutionary restaurants. Sorry!

1. Topolobampo

This Rick Bayless restaurant has been around forever, and unfortunately, you can tell by the interior. We’ve eaten here as a family a couple of times before, but never had a noteworthy experience. I can confirm that in a pinch, the patio covered in fun lights & mini piñatas, and the sharable, filling bites will do just fine. This was my first time going to a Mexican restaurant as a non-alcohol drinker, and instead of my typical mezcal margarita, I opted for a Fresh Limeaide which was refreshing and flavorful. We split the Guacamole and Chips, which if you’ve ever stopped at the Frontera in O’Hare, you know is good as fuck. It’s smooth, creamy, tangy, and topped with chopped onions and cilantro for a little crunch. It’s not the most life-changing, but it is consistently satisfying. Next, we got the Mushroom Tacos and Masa Quesadillas. The Masa Quesadillas were a fun surprise, as instead of a tortilla, the masa is what makes up the outside. They are almost like empanadas and stuffed with gooey, melty cheese, and come with a spicy salsa verde on the side. I would come back for these alone - they’re rich yet light, warm, and comforting, all the things you would want when dining outside when it’s still a little chilly. The Mushroom Tacos were quite frankly unreal, because whatever they seasoned the mushroom slices with and grilled them on made them taste unlike any mushroom I’ve had before. There was definitely some meat crossover on the grill, so don’t order those if you’re vegan, or ask them to prepare the mushroom separately. I however was LOSING MY MIND. Over mushrooms. The joys of being vegetarian!

2. The Gwen

On a happening Saturday night in Chicago, Upstairs at The Gwen is sure to be a packed scene. Located in River North, this hotel bar/restaurant offers a somehow cozy rooftop filled with loungey couches, fire pits, and ambient lighting, even though you’re surrounded by apartments and skyscrapers and there is nothing “cozy” about River North. Every table was filled, yet since you’re outside and it’s fairy spread apart, it still felt safe. I got my new classic, a Lemonade, and we got the Burrata to start. With sourdough, roasted beets, squash, pomegranate, pistachio, & arugula, this plate was nothing short of mouth-watering. It has textures! It has flavors! It has pomegranate seeds, the TikTok must have of the moment! The bread was 10/10, the burrata was 8/10, and all of the toppings made for a very find bite of salad on their own. For my main I got the Lobster Fettucine, a beautiful bowl of “charcoal fettuccine with saffron-tomato sauce, lobster, calabrian chili butter, and basil-brioche crumbs” as listed on their website. Take any of those ingredients and it’s going to be delicious, but all of them TOGETHER? INCREDIBLE. The chunks of lobster were huge, absolutely making the dish worth its price tag, and the sauce was flavorful, unique, and unlike any sauce I’ve tasted in the last few years. It’s typical to do a squid ink pasta with seafood and tomato sauce, but the saffron added a new element I very much appreciated.

3. The Starbucks Roastery

I KNOW. THIS IS A TOURIST DESTINATION. All I am saying is if there’s no line, go get an iced latte with two packets of sugar in the raw. That’s all. It’s really good after something like, I don’t know, Lobster Fettucine.

4. The Penninsula

You cannot go wrong with hitting up The Penninsula for breakfast or brunch, especially if you are staying there and have the option to do room service. Typically we would go to Pierrot Gourmet, the cafe in the ground floor of The Penninsula, however it has been closed temporarily. If there’s one thing to order with your breakfast, it’s the smashed fingerling potatoes. Delish.

5. Somerset

Somerset is becoming a quick go-to of mine for an impromptu dinner downtown, given it’s in the heart of Gold Coast and is cute if you’re sitting indoors or outdoors. The food is nothing too innovative, but it is done well, which is the most important part with “cuter” restaurants that may focus on the Instagram appeal over the food sometimes. Each time I’ve gone I’ve gotten the seasonal flatbread and a pasta or risotto, usually something with mushrooms, and it’s always been plate-licking good. To drink, I got -you guessed it- a Lemonade! For dinner I went with the Wild Mushroom Risotto which was everything you could hope for in a risotto, topped with olive oil, herbs, and local parmesan. We split the Rapini & Roasted Garlic Flatbread which was as it sounds, flatbread covered in rapini, garlic, and ricotta, which added a nice crunch and had enough rapini to feel like it was replacing a boring vegetable side dish or salad. The patio vibes were wonderful, the judgemental girls in the greenhouses looked like they were having a good time, and our waiter couldn’t have been sweeter. I will be going back to try the Fontina Arancini, which I just noticed on the menu. FRICK.

So there you have it, a very long-winded explanation of the last few weeks of my life and where you can find me on a staycation in Chicago. Hopefully once I move back to the city I’ll have endless new spots to try and won’t be basic anymore!

Until next time, Happy Eating!

-Natalie

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rosewood-liars · 3 years

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I’m disappointed that the producers of the PLL TV Series wrote out the fact Hanna is canonically Jewish even if she is non - practicing and had a blended tradition family ( Ashley Marin is not to my knowledge also Jewish ). There’s a whole scene in the books where Tom tries to bond with Hanna again, recognizes that the christmas celebrations are bumming her out & makes it up to her by celebrating Hanukkah. ( I’ll probably transcribe that encounter from the companion novel at the end of this post. )

I mean, maybe I should not be as upset by this as I am - because I’m not religious and have never been Jewish ever in my life.

However, I’ve also had experienced the frustration and big sad™ when something that me and a loved one did together was discarded and this just doesn’t set well with me.

( I think I will make more references to this ( even if she is non - practicing ) as a nod to the fact Hanna felt it was important enough to mention to Isabel during the Christmas party. )

First Reference:

Hanna drove slowly the rest of the way home, taking deep, cleansing breaths. After gunning the car up her family’s driveway, she nearly crashed into a line of vehicles she didn’t recognize. There had to be about fifteen sedans, SUVs, and crossovers parked in the circular drive. Then she noticed something blinking by the garage. Christmas lights. And was that a glow-in-the-dark Santa and an inflatable gingerbread man in the front yard? She took tentative steps toward the house. Dot, wearing some kind of bizarre headpiece, yipped at her feet when she walked inside. Wait. Were those reindeer antlers? Hanna scooped him up and stared at the two plush stalks on his head. Each was tipped with a tiny jingle bell. “Who did this to you?” Hanna whispered, ripping them off. Dot just licked her face. She looked around the living room and gasped. Holly leaves snaked around the banister. A mechanical Mrs. Claus waved from the console table that had once held Hanna’s mother’s austere ceramic vases. A tall, tinsel-laden tree stood in the corner, and the fireplace, which Hanna couldn’t remember the family ever using, was ablaze. “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” played on the stereo at maximum volume, and the whole house smelled like honey-glazed ham. “Hello?” Hanna called out. Laughter floated out from the kitchen, first Isabel’s goose-honk chortle, then her dad’s booming guffaw. Hanna rounded the corner. The kitchen was packed with people holding champagne flutes and appetizer plates filled with mini quiches and wedges of Brie. Many of them wore Santa hats, including Hanna’s dad. Isabel stood in the corner, wearing a red velvet dress tipped with Mrs. Claus white fur on the cuffs and hem, and Kate had on a tight-fitting red jersey sheath and black-and-white Kate Spade heels. Mistletoe hung from the chandelier, a carafe of mulled cider sat on the counter, and plates and plates of the most delicious-looking Christmas cookies and appetizers filled the island. Isabel spied Hanna and glided over. “Hanna! Feliz Navidad! O Tannenbaum! Merry Christmas!” Hanna sniffed. “Um, actually, I’m Jewish. And so is my father.” Isabel blinked dumbly, like she couldn’t comprehend that anyone, let alone her own fiancé, could celebrate anything other than Christmas. Mr. Marin appeared at Isabel’s side. “Hey, sweetie,” he said, ruffling Hanna’s hair. Hanna stared at him incredulously. “Since when do you celebrate Christmas?” She said the word like she might have said Satan’s birthday. Mr. Marin crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I’ve been celebrating it with Isabel and Kate for the past few years. I told Kate to tell you.” “Well, she didn’t,” Hanna said flatly. “We do the Twelve Days of Christmas every year. We always kick it off with a bash.” Isabel took a sip of champagne. “It’s a wonderful tradition. We started early this year with tonight—kind of a housewarming-meets-Christmas thing.” “And we’d like you to be a part of the tradition too, of course,” Mr. Marin added. Hanna stared at all of the red and green paraphernalia. Her family had never been that religious, but they lit menorah candles every night of Hanukkah. On Christmas Day, they ordered Chinese takeout, watched movie marathons, and went on a long family bike ride if the weather was decent. She liked those traditions.

Second Mention:

She pulled into the driveway of her house, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and watch hours and hours of bad TV. Strangely, her father’s car was still in the driveway—not at Longwood Gardens. And the Christmas decorations that had festooned the front of the property were gone. When she opened the front door, it no longer smelled like fresh pine and cinnamon sticks but more like . . . potato pancakes? “Hanna!” Mr. Marin appeared from the kitchen. “There you are! Come in, come in! We have a surprise for you!” He whisked Hanna through the living room, but not before she noticed that the mechanical Mrs. Claus had vanished, the Christmas tree was unlit, and the stockings that had hung over the fireplace—there were monogrammed ones for Isabel, Kate, and Hanna’s dad, and a blank one presumably for Hanna—had been taken down. The old silver menorah Bubbe Marin had given Hanna’s parents sat on the mantel. Three candles blazed. “What’s going on?” Hanna asked suspiciously. Mr. Marin turned Hanna toward the dining room. There was a huge spread of food on the table, and Kate and Isabel were sitting in high-backed chairs, tepid smiles on their faces. “Surprise!” Mr. Marin crowed. “Happy Hanna-kah!” Hanna blinked at the items on the table. There were all the traditional Hanukkah foods her grandmother used to serve: latkes, jelly donuts called sufganiyot, kugel, chocolate coins, and a large brisket. Off to the side were the old dreidels she and her cousins had spun for hours, turning the game into a kind of truth or dare—if the dreidel fell on the gimel side, Tamar, her younger cousin, had to steal a dollar out of her mother’s wallet, and so on. A blue foil banner with Star of David cutouts was draped across the windows, and candles glowed around the room. Small gifts wrapped in silver paper sat on everyone’s plates. “I thought you guys were going to Santa’s Village,” Hanna said slowly. “Oh, we can do that any day,” Mr. Marin said. “I thought you might be a little upset since we’re doing so many Christmas activities, so we thought we’d celebrate our holiday tonight! Hanukkah—or Hanna-kah!” He gestured to the food on the table. “Kate and Isabel did some baking this evening, though some of this came from the kosher deli near Ferra’s Cheesesteaks.” “Your dad says you know all of the Hanukkah stories, Hanna,” Isabel said politely. “I’d love to hear them.” “This is all so nice.” Hanna’s heart expanded, just like the Grinch’s. This was definitely the nicest thing her dad had done for her in a long, long time. Her father passed around plates, and everyone began serving themselves latkes and pieces of brisket bathed in sauce. Hanna took a moderate amount of food, feeling virtuous from boot camp. Wine was poured—even Hanna and Kate got some—and everyone opened their gifts. Kate and Hanna got gift cards to Fermata Spa. Isabel got a small Christmas tree–shaped charm to add to her silver Pandora bracelet. Mr. Marin had given himself a new Swiss Army knife. He immediately unfolded the scissors and cut the tag off of Isabel’s bauble. Then, Mr. Marin launched into stories about Bubbe Marin, who used to make the best potato pancakes in the world. “We used to go over there every night of Hanukkah,” he explained. “She’d always have huge gifts for Hanna.” “Isn’t that sweet,” Isabel trilled, looking surprised, as though she’d never imagined someone would shower Hanna with gifts. “And she had this African gray parrot, Morty,” Mr. Marin went on, spearing a latke. “He knew every swearword in the world.” “He was crazy!” Hanna giggled. “I think I learned some new ones from him!” “And he loved to watch those tabloid shows—what were they called?” Mr. Marin’s face was flushed. “E! News,” Hanna repeated. “He was obsessed with Giuliana Rancic. Remember? He said she was such a pretty bitch in that crazy bird voice!” “Who’s Giuliana Rancic?” Isabel asked, blinking quickly. Hanna’s father was too busy shaking with laughter to answer. Hanna laughed too, also not bothering to fill Isabel in. It felt nice to have an inside joke with her father again, something from their lives before Isabel and Kate. They continued eating, sharing stories about Hanna’s grandmother’s obsessions with yard sales, animal figurines, and her crush on Bob Barker from The Price Is Right. By the time the meal was over, Hanna and her dad kept bursting into laughter but not bothering to explain themselves. Isabel rose to clear the table, but Mr. Marin waved her to sit down. “I can clean up,” he said.

Third Reference:

Now, Hanna sighed. After her new family had thrown Hanna a Hanukkah bone a few nights ago, everything had gone back to normal shortly afterward. The Twelve Days of Christmas nonsense had resumed, though Hanna had been able to get out of a lot of it because of boot camp.

#• What Fresh Hell Do We Have Today ??? Let's See ... • ( Dash Commentary. )#• ... Maybe I Shoulda Kept My Enemies Closer ? • ( Hanna Headcanon. )

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buckyreaderrecs · 4 years

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Bucky Barnes and the Girl With Too Much Power: Chapter 4/?

Summary: Nobody knows about your power. You’ve never really wanted to use it, let alone hurt someone with it. But, someone has figured you out, and now they’re following you. There’s only one place you can go for help - The Avengers. Good news is they’re good people. Bad news is your power is entirely relevant to soft, sad, recovering, broody Bucky Barnes. Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3.

Chapter 4: You have to leave behind the life you knew.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker Additional tags: Bucky needs a hug, recovering Bucky, mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists), angst, possible future smut (who knows, not me), mutual pining, reader has powers / enhanced!reader, she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters

Notes: I haven’t updated this fic in months and monthssss. Let me know if there are any continuity errors, and if this is still a fic worth me plugging away at. Thank you for any and all support! xo Rhi

Bucky Barnes and the Girl With Too Much Power Chapter 4/?

There was nothing comforting about having Stark-employed agents tailing you. Logically you knew that besides maybe a well-placed and patient sniper, nobody would be able to get close enough to hurt you. Not with spiders and witches and falcons watching over you. Certainly not with the last remaining Howling Commandos on your side.

Although you couldn't see him, even when you tried to covertly spot him, you could feel Bucky. You could feel him watching you and you knew it was him because it wasn't like before. It didn't make you feel sick with dread.

All of that was probably in your head though.

More tangible aspects of the situation were the beads of sweat rolling down your spine and pooling in the small of your back. Very real was the awkward pace you were keeping - definitely faster than a casual walk but a solid attempt to appear calm and normal.

It had been decided that you would walk the entire way home. It was doable, but you'd usually catch the bus. The people who wanted you would have to see the future to know when and where you'd catch a bus, but that wasn't outside the realm of possibility. Not anymore. So, you walked for 40 minutes.

…

Unless he wanted you to see him, Bucky Barnes was invisible. He'd always been good at camouflage, but programming by Hydra included 'how to disappear 101.' And under your power, it was like that again. Not a single soul saw Bucky as he followed you block by block. There wasn't even a gust of wind left in his wake to alert people that someone… something, had gone by.

Entirely focussed and keen eyed, Bucky watched your strange gait. If there was no power clouding his mind, he would have smirked a little; even Hydra couldn't take the sass out of him.

After he climbed through an unlocked bedroom window and landed on the floor behind you, Bucky stood up straight at attention. You were on your hands and knees, pulling things out of the bottom of a closet. There was a duffle bag in there somewhere, you were sure.

"Yes!" you whispered to yourself, standing and spinning around. The yelp that escaped your mouth sounded through Bucky's earpiece to the other Avengers situated in, on, and around your apartment building.

"Buck?" Steve asked, muscles already poised to move.

"Package is safe," Bucky replied, no emotion in his voice. The lack of it went unnoticed by Peter Parker - who was still too new and in awe to know Bucky beyond reputation and limited interaction. He didn't mean to, but Bucky had avoided Peter; he reminded him too much of pre-serum Steve. However, Wanda, Sam, and Steve all heard the tone, and all frowned to themselves from their respective positions. Nobody did anything though.

"You scared me," you said as soon as you yelped. When he didn't move, speak, or even shrug it off, you were reminded of your spell. A small, sad, "Oh," was uttered. "Stop. You can stop your… mission," you ordered him.

It didn't work. Maybe it wasn't specific enough. Without a lot of practice, you really weren't good at using your power when you actually needed to. You realised that you shouldn't have given Bucky a complex and prolonged order in the elevator.

"Ah… Relax. Be yourself…?" you tried. Bucky's blue eyes simply remained fixed on you and he went to speak, but you cut him off. "Oh! Ignore my previous order. Do not… feel compelled… to… Fuck. What did I tell you to do?"

"Make sure I get to my house safely. Help me get what I need, and bring me back here," Bucky said, repeating your command word-for-word. It was unnerving.

"Yeah… Don't… Don't do that. Unless you want to. Only do that if you want to."

When his posture gave (by only the slightest amount), you breathed out. It had worked, but you weren't sure exactly which part.

"Bucky?" you asked gently. Bucky smiled and it felt like rain in a drought. "You okay?"

He nodded, being much more used to giving non-verbal responses. Sam's voice was in his head though, encouraging him to speak, pushing his recovery forward faster than Steve's love alone could do. "Yeah, I'm fine…"

You could hear it in his slow drawl- that slight cognitive lag people sometimes experienced after your power left their minds and they were free again.

"I'm sorry,"

"No, darling', you don't have to keep saying that. It's alright,"

"But-"

"Please," he interrupted. He shook his head slightly, but it was enough for you to see he didn't want to talk about it. "You did good,"

"I just… walked," you replied.

"Yeah, but that isn't easy when you think someone's about to kill ya,"

"Wow. Reassuring. Thanks," you said sarcastically, moving around him to put the bag on the bed.

Bucky chuckled, then sat down next to the bag.

"Aren't you gonna, like, check the cupboards and stuff?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Christ, how unprofessional do you think we are?" From the dresser you were digging through, you looked over at him and shrugged in confusion. "Stark had people in here as soon as he figured out where here was,"

"Guessing that was pretty quick?"

"Yep," Bucky replied, popping the P sound purposefully.

"So, random people have been going through my stuff?" Looking around, nothing seemed out of place. It was unnerving, actually.

"Not random. People Stark trusts,"

"Do you trust them?"

But he hesitated and he saw that you'd seen. He couldn't but smile a little. "I don't not trust them."

Thinking for a couple seconds, you decided on, "Probably fair…"

Bucky nodded, and you continued to pack. He decided it wasn't worth telling you that in the very early hours of the morning, after the city was asleep and just before the sun woke up, he'd gone to your apartment too. Clues in the cupboards. Secrets under the seats. Anything really. Steve had been awake when Bucky slipped out. He'd thought maybe Bucky was checking for Hydra. Or possibly, Steve hoped, his best friend was driven by the fact that you looked a lot like a couple of the girls Bucky had charmed before the war meant anything to them.

Bucky followed you as you went room by room, filling the duffle, then a backpack, then an empty shopping bag.

"You planning on never coming back here?" he asked, mostly joking. When you stopped, moving like a deer in the headlights, Bucky realised. "Oh…"

"Am I? Am I coming back?" you asked, on the cusp of hopeful. The glimmer of it in your eyes killed Bucky.

"I don't know," he answered, voice a little too soft to be comforting.

Looking around your apartment, you tried to look brave. "I guess… it doesn't really matter. Hadn't really built much of a life anyway,"

"Of course it matters, Y/N."

Before you could say anything else, there was a loud knock on your door, followed by the shrill voice of your neighbour. "Y/N?! Did I just hear ya come home?! Where've ya been?!"

You and Bucky turned to each other at the same time, both expecting the other to do something.

"She's not gonna go away," you whispered.

"Make her," Bucky said.

"I don't want to use-"

"No," Bucky interrupted. "Just talk to her…" His tone implied the 'obviously.'

As soon as you swung the door open, Barb went to step in.

"Ah, sorry, Barb. Bit of a mess in here… Did you need… something?" you said, stopping her.

She eyed you suspiciously, tried to look past you. "You didn't come home last night,"

"Stayed at a friend's,"

"That's lovely… Which friend? That nice Lisa girl?"

"No, um, new friend. James."

Bucky almost laughed.

"A boy? I didn't realise you were dating." She emphasised the last word like it was taboo.

Normally, you'd be better at dealing with Barb; she meant well, but was incredibly nosey. Normally, you didn't answer all her rapid-fire questions immediately, but you were nervous.

"It's not like that. He's just a friend,"

"That you spent the night with,"

"Barb, it's 2020. We can be friends with guys now,"

"So defensive, Y/N! Must really like him," she said with a knowing smile.

"I'm just on my way out, actually,"

"Such a social butterfly all of a sudden. I was just coming over to see if you're alright,"

"I'm alright. And I appreciate it. I really do. I'm just… a bit busy right now,"

"Alright, alright," Barb said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I know when I'm not welcome-"

"No, Barb, it's not-"

"No, no, it's fine." She took a step backwards.

"Barb-"

"When will you be home then?"

Fuck.

You tried to look over your shoulder into your apartment as casually as possible. Glancing at Bucky, all he could offer was a shrug. You realised then that you would have to lie, really lie.

"Actually… Might be gone for a while. Got family upstate that need me."

Barb was quiet for a second, searching through everything she knew about you. "I hope everyone's alright," she settled on. She wanted to say that she didn't know you had family upstate… or any family at all, for that matter.

You'd lived in the apartment complex for five or so years. Barb had always looked out for you, especially since her kid went off to college. She'd met a couple of your friends, heard about work, but never once had you spoken about family. Barb hadn't pressed, although she very much wanted to. Something inside her was keeping her from doing so.

"Yeah, yep… They will be," you replied, nodding.

"Okay… Well, you'll have to come over for tea when you get back?"

"I will. Thanks, Barb."

She left.

Bucky watched you close the door, lock it out of habit.

Your eyes were full of tears. "I can't come back here," you whispered to him. "If someone is after me, I can't bring them here,"

"They probably already know where 'here' is," Bucky replied, almost immediately knowing it was the wrong thing to say. "But," he quickly added. "If they were gonna do anything, they'd done that already."

Bucky didn't believe that to be true at all. More likely, the people following you, upon discovering your sudden disappearance, would try to draw you out. If they knew Barb was a friend - it could make her a target.

You watched Bucky's expression. You read the lie. You didn't need to force the truth out though. You let the fact that he was trying to reassure you, reassure you.

"We'll keep surveillance here."

You nodded, moved slowly to continue packing.

Bucky stayed quiet, watched, tried to remember all the details of your apartment. Maybe they'd come in useful at some point.

"Okay, I'm ready," you announced.

"There's a car downstairs waiting for you," Bucky said.

"You're not coming?"

"I'll go out the way I came," he answered. When you didn't move, he added, "You'll be okay… Steve and everyone… they'll look after you." He wasn't lying that time. "Go."

Slinging bags over your shoulder, you nodded and left Bucky Barnes in the apartment you would never return to.

What would happen to the rest of your stuff? Would Stark pay for a storage unit? Pay your rent? What about work?

By the time you got to the car, you were again, on the verge of tears.

Upstairs, from a window of your apartment, Bucky watched you leave. He made a note to tell someone to teach you not to get into cars without checking if it was safe first. You hadn't even asked to see the driver's ID.

"She's aboard," Bucky relayed into coms.

"Copy that," Steve's voice came back. "Buck?"

Bucky was in his head.

For longer than Steve liked.

Chapter 5 is coming soon...

Tag list for this fic (open): @animegirlgeeky @brighteyedmichelle @howthehellisbucky @bitterstar88 @thatweirdwalangpake

Tag list for all my work (open): @bubbabarnes @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @the--sad--hatter @fairislesheets - still won’t let me tag you?

#mine #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes/Reader #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes/You #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #Bucky Barnes reader insert #Marvel #Marvel fic #BB and the Girl w Too Much Power

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gobydana · 5 years

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Have You Ever Cared?

Hi! Could I request a batfam x batsis reader fic where she’s not a vigilante and everyone thinks of her as a spoiled trust fund kid and say some pretty mean stuff to her during an argument causing her to storm out. She’s killed and nobody really does much. So when she is resurrected she stays off the grid and leads a simple life until the batfam finds he and confront her where she reveals how hurt she is.

Batsister was a lot of things, biological daughter of billionaire Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s party child, twenty-some year old with no real path in life, living off her father. Or well that is what one would think if they read the tabolids or even talked to her family. As one of the only family members not in the superhero business. The gossip columns loved to feature her. Who she was out with, where she was partying, what car did she wreck. Her family loved to get on her case. Why didn’t she go to college or do something besides chilling at home. Why waste the money on drinking, being the party persona Bruce took on for many years.

Tonight was one of those nights, only it seemed worse. Maybe it was due to the non-stop shit she got or maybe just today she didn’t want to deal with it. Either way it didn’t seem to stop and just kept coming.

“They said you were drunk and saw you driving.” Bruce about yelled as he pushed the car away.

“I wasn’t drinking.” She hollered back.

“Really? Then do you just suck at driving? Can’t find the line?” Damain added in.

“C’mon sister, we can’t have two family dissapointments. Just drunk driving?” Jason said from a top the stairs. That got him the bird.

“When are you going to grow up.”

“Father can’t get you out of trouble all the time.”

“What if you cause someone else’s injury? Did you ever think about that?

“Stop being the billboard for trust-fund child. Like c’mon can you actually use that brain in your head.”

“I can’t believe we are related. Are you sure you are Bruce’s kid.”

“Enough!” Bruce yelled among the insults shooting out. “I am very disappointed in you.” He said with the most even, cold tone he could.

With that batsister left towards the door not wanting to hear anything more. She couldn’t take it anymore. They of course wouldn’t listen to her but take the word of the press. It’s not like any of them were around enough to even get to know her. That’s why she knew they wouldn’t know where to find her.

She went to the graveyard. It was her safe place, minus certain times of the year her family really didn’t come here. She walked towards the only two people she hadn’t manage to disappoint in life: Thomas and Martha Wayne. She sunk down in defeated and started talking to the tombstones. Having the feeling at least someone would listen to her.

“Your son hates me again. Family wouldn’t even listen to. Thought I was drinking and driving all cause of some Instagram videos taken of me not driving in a straight line. You want to know why I couldn’t drive? I was crying again. Had the stupid police radio on and heard bat down. Didn’t know which was got hurt, but judging by the sling on Jason’s arm going to guess it was him. They don’t know what it’s like. Finding out the same time the public does when one of them gets hurt. Every time I am home I see a new bruise, stitches, broken bones. Don’t they care that one day I might come home and find them gone? Hell doubt anyone would even tell me if they died. I probably would find out from the press.”

“Got into that university for a degree in chemistry biology. Think I might just pack and leave. Would they even care? They give me shit cause doing nothing, but they don’t know what goes on in my life. If they did, they would know I was applying. That the press’s opinion of me hurt my last chance. Been trying so hard. I am going to pretend you are proud of me though. So at least one or two Waynes would be.”

She brushed the tears off her face. The thing she would never let her family see. Stay strong until she was alone. She was a Wayne and they were strong. But times like this she couldn’t be. After a few hours she knew she had to go. The rain was starting to come down and the moon was already hanging high in the sky. Grabbing her backpack, she walked towards the road. Starting tomorrow she was finding her own place and living a new life. Maybe move to Metropolis.

The dark night, slick roads, and her black clothes made her hard to spot. It didn’t help she was walking from the graveyard to the main road. That might be why the driver didn’t see her. The tears in her face cloudy her vision so that she didn’t see the car until it was too late. The last thing she registered was red blinding pain as the car made contact with her body at 45 mph. A driver who didn’t even care enough to stop but instead drove away.

From the shadows though stood someone who did see. Someone who recognized her and knew of her family, Both as civilians and with capes. Someone who wanted to get back at Bruce and see him suffer. So Talia stepped out of the dark and picked up the bleeding girl. Batsis had died upon impact, but that didn’t mean she had to stay dead. Her father had a way to fix that.

Green and pain was the next thing she remembered. It was almost glowing green as every injury she just suffered came flowing back. Her yells and pleas for it to stop echoes in the dark cave. Finally she found her way out towards the end of the pool where Talia and a guard were waiting. She explained everything to her and what happened.

The first thing she asked was about her family. They might have been mad at her, but truly they would mourn her at least? But when Talia showed her newspapers and camera that she hacked into the manor, it surprised her. No mention of her death or the accident. Her family was acting as if nothing happened. Just carrying on like normal. When each of her siblings died and her father, she cried for days. Often feeling like she couldn’t get up each day.

Everyday she found herself checking on her family with the same results. Talia saw the girls spirit died a little each day. After a few weeks she handed the girl a wad of cash and some new clothes. Gave her a chance that once she wanted more than anything. A do over, living a life not as a Wayne but as herself. She took that chance and left the compound to another world. It wasn’t long before she found a job and a place. Settling into life away from the family who didn’t care.

It would be months before someone found her backpack. Bruce went to the cemetery to visit his parents' grave. On the way out he saw the backpack hidden in the bushes. At first he thought it was a normal one until he saw the W.E pin that she always had on hers. Closer look saw blood that was long ago dried up. The weather got to the backpack, no doubt being there for some months. He thought she had left mad at them, to another city. But maybe it was something else. He took the bag to examine further.

Back at the cave, he emptied the contents. He was surprised at what he found. A college acceptance letter to pretious program, volunteer shirts from an orphanage the next town over, notebook and pencil, and her wallet. So much of it surprised him so much he didn’t know about his own daughter. Soon he found himself lost in thought he didn’t hear Talia come in at first. She knew he would be at the graves today and made sure he would find the backpack.

“She died you know.” She said with hands up as he stood up with a batarang in hand. “A hit and run. Her killer just drove off without a care in the world.”

He sank down into the chair with a sad realization coming over him. She hadn’t been avoiding them, she had been dead. The rest of his kids were coming down the stairs at that moment for patrol. Every single one stopped in their tracks as what she said echoed in the cave. Not one knowing.

“DId you?” He started with her only to cut him off.

“Yes. SHe is alive again and if you truly cared about her, you would stay away from her. What family doesn’t know that one of them is dead. Prioritizing cape life over your own blood? She died alone thinking you all hate her.”

With that she left. Bruce couldn’t say anything but waived the rest of them off to patrol. While they were gone he went up to what was once her room. Some place he hardly walked into since she was a child. He could still remember when she was younger and wanted it decorated pink. A pink glitter canopy hung over her bed. She was so happy to help him put it up. THat room no longer existed. Some time between now and then she painted it a different color.

On the dresser was pictures of all of them. She was younger in

most of them. Thinking back it had been a while since he had done anything with her. Between Gotham and the league, something was always pulling him away. Different college applications clouted her desk along with an old text book of his. Looks like she was teaching herself different science items. A police radio sat on the bed side table with a wrinkled sheet. On the sheet had all the code names the police used for the different bats. She must have been listening at night. Further discovery of wrinkled up tissue told him more than he ever knew.

Through out the next week, they all found parts of her around the manor that surprised them. Jason found the book he recommend she read before his death as Robin laying on her bookshelf. It was worn out and no doubt been read a few thousand times. Damian discovered that she had a sword hint half painted. It was going to be a gift for him. Dick found the old letters he use to write her when he first left the manor and started on his own. It appeared he was the one who stopped writing. Tim found his old camera and pictures in her room. Duke saw she wrote down his parent’s birthdays as a reminder for herself what days might be hard for him.

It was Bruce who went looking. Everyone else thought maybe the best thing was to let her move on. Him though, he just couldn’t give up. She was his daughter, an only child he got to raise up. He had baby pictures of her and more growing up until the pictures stopped. He couldn’t give up on her. He might have found the man who hit her and threw him in jail with a lot of bruises, but none of that could make up all he forgot.

He remembered as a child she was fascinated with France. Claimed she was going to live in southern France one day. So on a hutch, he went there. A few weeks later he saw her. It was in a small village near a university. She was working at a café. He sat across the road and watched her. The whole time, she looked genuinely happy. Something that didn’t happen in Gotham.

That night he followed her home towards a small flat where she lived with a cat. She turned around when he came through the window, just starring at her.

“Wonder if you were ever going to come. Was it better without worrying about a press nightmare living at home.” She asked.

“I didn’t know you died.”

With that she threw up her hands. Of all he could say, that is what he said. SHe exploded.

“I died and saw you all move on. You didn’t even know? What thought I just up and left. Didn’t even care to find out where? Did I ever matter to you? Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. I was second string to everything. Sorry missed you birthday, had to go save the world. I wanted a Christmas morning with my family? Too bad Joker broke out. I seem like I am hungover? Nope been up all night crying because the police reported one of you asses were massively hurt. Seven I wanted to go trick o treating but nope went to a fellow soliciaties party because the bat was too busy to take his child out. The damn league saw you more then me. I debated often just joining the rogues because then maybe you would pay attention to me. Nope just caused you problems that you couldn’t ignore. Put the Wayne name in the spotlight and you started paying attention to me.

“I didn’t know.”

“Is that all you can say? LIke I know you weren’t a man of many words but c’mon. How hard is it to say you are proud of me? To ask about my day just once in awhile instead of scolding me? Well guess what, I am proud of me. I am starting my degree of chemistry biology while working at the cafe. I made friends here who are friends with me not because of my family but because of me. No more wondering if I am good enough for you or good enough to be a Wayne. I am good enough for me. So there’s the door, don’t let it hit you on your way out.

That night Bruce grabbed sleep at hotel and video chat with the family. Each one of her brothers ashamed that she thought she wasn’t good enough. For the next year, they came separate and slowly got her to be at least friendly with them. No doubt they could never undo the damage done but they tried to be a family. Bruce thought has the longest road.

For the longest time he could never get the picture of her as a little girl asking for story before patrol. But over time he slowly saw her for the brilliant young woman she had become. He started talking time off from Batman to see her. Wanting to not waste more time. He almost lost her for good due to his own stupidity. Seven years later when she graduated with her doctorate, he made sure to be there with the family front row. He had missed so many memorable moments he wasn’t going to miss that one.

Over time she also started to forgive them. The sadness and loneliness that had made a permanent place in heart had finally left. She finally heard her father say that he was proud of her. That was something she never thought would happen. Also as a promise to her, he never came as Batman. Only as her father, Bruce Wayne. The family started to inform her more of when they got hurt instead of her finding out herself. ANd some days when she came home to two of her brothers crashing on her couch bickering, she couldn’t be happier.

Tagging: @the-shadow-of-atlantis @superwhoteen @speedypan

#batsister #batsis #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #dc comics #batman fanfiction #fanfic #i made myself cry #angst #death #talia al ghul

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the-little-crime-writer · 4 years

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Allen, Louis - murder victim (1964)

A native of Amite County, Mississippi, born in 1922, Louis Allen dropped out of school in the seventh grade to become a logger and part-time farmer. Drafted by the U.S Army in January 1943, he served 19 months in uniform, including combat duty in New Guinea. Upon discharge from service, he returned to his wife and two young children, the beginning of a family that soon increased to six. Although a proud African American, Allen had no part in the civil rights movement that challenged Mississippi's pervasive system of racial segregation in 1961. He would become a martyr to that movement by coincidence, strictly against his will.

One who joined the Amite County movement willingly was 50 year old Herbert Lee, a member of the National Association for the Advancement of Coloured People (NAACP) and participant in the 1961 voter-registration drive by Robert Moses of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. Blacks who sought to vote in Amite County faced intimidation and worse, from racist vigilantes and from Sheriff E.L. Caston Jr., whose deputies raided NAACP meetings and confiscated membership lists. A neighbour of Lee's farmer E.W. Steptoe, led the local NAACP chapter and complained to the U.S. Department of Justice about Caston's harassment. On September 24, 1961, Justice attorney John Doar visited Amite County with Robert Moses, interviewing Steptoe and requesting names of any other blacks who had suffered harassment. Herbert Lee's name was first on the list, but Doar missed him that afternoon, as Lee was called away from home on business. There would never be another chance for them to meet. Early on September 25, the day after Doar returned to Washington, Lee drove a truckload of cotton to the gin near Liberty, Mississippi. Behind him, as he pulled into the parking lot, was another vehicle occupied by state legislator E.H. Hurst and his son in law, Billy Caston. An argument ensued between Hurst and Lee and climaxed when Hurst drew a pistol and shot Lee once in the head, killing him instantly. Robert Moses later described the event and its aftermath to journalist Howard Zinn.

Lee's body lay on the ground that morning for two hours, uncovered, until they finally got a funeral home in McComb to take it in. Nobody in Liberty would touch it. They had a coroner's jury that very same afternoon. Hurst was acquitted. He never spent a moment in jail...I remember reading very bitterly in the papers the next morning, a little item on the front page of the McComb Enterprise-Journal said that a Negro had been shot as he was trying to attack E.H. Hurst. And that was it. Might have thought he'd been a bum. There was no mention that Lee was a farmer, that he had a family, nine kids, beautiful kids, and that he had farmed all his life in Amite County.

One witness to the shooting was Louis Allen, who arrived at the cotton gin moments before Lee was killed. He watched Lee die, then saw a second white man lead E.H. Hurst to a nearby vehicle, whereupon they departed from the scene. Allen retreated to a nearby garage, where one of Liberty's white residents located him and walked him back to the cotton gin. En route to the crime scene, Allen's escort told him, 'They found a tire iron in that nigger's hand. They found a piece of iron, you hear?'

Allen knew better, but he had a wife and four children to consider. Within the hour, he found himself at the county courthouse, where a coroner's hearing had been hastily convened. White men armed with pistols packed the hearing room, glaring at Allen as he took the witness stand and lied under oath, confirming the tale that Herbert Allen had been armed, assaulting E.H. Hurst when he was shot. The jury wasted no time in returning the verdict of 'justifiable homicide.' Hurst subsequently told the New York Times that he had quarrelled with Lee over $500 debt, which Lee refused to pay. When Lee attacked him with the tire iron.' Instead, he had struck Lee with the trigger unconsciously.' Hurst denied Lee's civil rights activity, dubbing his victim ' a smart nigger' who normally avoided conflict with whites. Guilt-ridden by his false testimony, Allen confessed the lie to his wife and to Robert Moses. Elizabeth Allen described the conversation in a 1964 affidavit, as follows:

The day Herbert Lee was killed, Louis came home and said that they wanted him to testify that Herbert Lee had a piece of iron. He said that Herbert Lee didn't have no iron. But he said for his family and for his life he had to tell that he had an iron. Louis told me that he didn't want to tell no story about the dead, because he couldn't ask them for forgiveness. They had two courts about Herbert Lee's killing. When they had the second court, Louis did not want to testify. He said he didn't want to testify no more that a man ad a piece of iron when he didn't have it, but he said he didn't have no choice, he was there and he had to go to court. He said he told the FBI the truth, that Herbert Lee didn't have a piece of iron when he was shot

The 'second court' was a state grand jury hearing, convened in Amite County a month after Lee was shot. Allen approached Robert Moses, reporting that he had told his story to FBI agents, suggesting that he could get protection with the Justice Department he would testify truthfully and 'let the hide go with the hair.' Moses then telephoned Washington, and heard from Justice that 'there was no way possible to provide protection for a witness at such a hearing' )In fact, such protection is routinely offered to witnesses in organised crime cases and similar matters.) Allen went on to repeat his false story before the grand jury, which returned no indictments.

Things went from bad to worse for Allen after that, as Amite County whites apparently learned of his abortive effort to tell the truth. Strangers visited Allen's home and accosted his children, threatening his life. In June 1962 Allen was arrested on trumped up charges of 'interfering with the law'; he spent three weeks in jail, and was threatened with lynching, and suffered a broken jaw after one of Sheriff Caston's deputies struck him with a flashlight. White customers stopped buying logs from Allen, and local merchants cut off his credit at various stores. Only his ailing mother kept Allen from leaving Amite County, but her death in late 1963 freed him at last. Eagerly, Allen made plans to leave Mississippi for Milwaukee, where his brother lived.

Unfortunately, he had already waited too long. On January 1st, 1964, one of Allen's white creditors stopped at the house to collect a bill payment. While Allen counted out the money, his visitor pointed to Allen's three year old daughter playing nearby, and remarked, 'It would be mighty bad if she turned up burnt, wouldn't it? She's an innocent baby, but she could get burnt up just like that. I could tell you more, but I'm not. If I was you I would get my rags together in a bundle and leave here.'

Resolved to do exactly that, on January 31, 1964, Allen sought work references from some of his former clients. The first, Melvin Blalock, declined to provide a letter, concerned that he 'might be helping a communist.' Another, Lloyd King, later recalled speaking to Allen around 8:10 pm. Two cars were seen trailing Allen's pickup when he left King's farm, driving home. At the foot of his long driveway, Allen left his truck to open the gate, then apparently threw himself under the vehicle. The move failed to save him, as two shotgun blasts ripped into his face. Son Henry Allen found his father's body hours later, when he returned from a dance.

No suspects in Louis Allen's murder were never identified, but Robert Moses placed partial blame for the slaying on the FBI's doorstep. Moses and other activists believed that G-men routinely leaked the contents of confidential statements to local police in civil rights cases, thus leaving witnesses vulnerable to attack by racist authorities or the vigilante Ku Klux Klan. The segregationist McComb Enterprise-Journal theory in its description of the murder, noting that 'Strictly non-documented rumours have been current that Allen may have become a 'tip-off man' for the integration-minded Justice Department. Similarly, of the spearheads of a reported complaint that 'economic pressure' being applied against some Amite County Negroes.'

#Allen Louis - murder victim (1964)#Amite County #very controversial #racism #racist #very difficult to post #True crime #true murder #true crime community #true crime blog #true crime post #unsolved crime #unsolved murder #The Chronicles of True Crime #tcc #tcc crime #tcc blog #tcc blogger #tcc author

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luulapants · 4 years

Text

Hale Royal Family AU - Part 4

Based on @shey-elizabeth‘s post:

”Me reading the Prince Harry-Meghan Markel royal family drama:

Wait… I think I read this fic already. (Starts scrolling through my AO3 history)

#random #royalty au #someone write me a steter fic #reading the news before coffee”

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

May 2018

“Not that close,” Laura fussed, leaning forward and grabbing Stiles’s shoulders to shift him away from Peter’s body. Peter started to pull his arm back, but she clicked her tongue and grabbed his wrist to keep it in place. “There. Comfortable, affectionate, but not intimate.”

“God forbid the public should suspect we have sex,” Peter drawled, shooting her a cold smile.

His niece scowled at him. “Don’t do that smile during the interview. That’s your murder smile.”

“How else am I supposed to smile under these conditions?” he snapped.

Stiles reached over with both hands and pressed them to Peter’s cheeks, pushing upwards so the corners of his mouth lifted. “Just think about how many assholes are going to be upset about this interview,” he advised, “and how I’m gonna blow you in the limo on the way home.”

“Stiles!” Laura hissed. She waved her clipboard at him, looking over her shoulder at the few crew members milling about the set. “Great, that’s going to end up in a tabloid…”

Peter laughed, not sure if it was Stiles’s absurd behavior or Laura’s upset that wrung it out of him. “Laura, come on. I know how to do an interview. Stiles knows how to do an interview.”

“And they’ve never gone badly for you before,” she shot back with acid. She sighed and straightened up, looking down at their placement on the interview couch like she was tempted to fix something else. Instead, she just shifted her clipboard in her hands. “We’ve confirmed all of the questions, so there shouldn’t be any surprises. Stick to what we talked about and try not to get cute?”

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Stiles assured her. Peter didn’t hear a blip in his heartbeat, which meant Stiles truly believed the dirty lie he had just told.

Peter rolled his eyes and waved her off, watching her retreat to the other side of the studio just as Leanne Mitchell, entertainment journalist and professional terror, stepped in. She had been the interviewer for Peter’s infamous coming out, and he suspected she was harboring a vendetta under that ridiculous pile of bleach-blond curls.

“Are we ready to roll? We’ll start with introductions,” she called as the crew members scrambled.

The first five minutes went by uneventfully. They recounted the proposal for her, which they had already done for half a dozen different news outlets. Peter noticed that Stiles had a bit of a script down for how he told it now, repeating the same phrases each time. Part of him wondered if the magic and joy of that memory grew thinner with each poised, practiced retelling.

“Now, the venue has gotten quite a bit of attention,” Leanne said. “Most people were expecting the ceremony to take place at a druidic temple, either Temple of Blodeuwedd, where most of your family has been married, or perhaps Gwyddion Temple in San Francisco. There was even speculation that you might choose a human house of worship for Stiles.”

He and Stiles had both had a good laugh over those news articles when the PR department presented them. They didn’t even specify which human religion they purported Stiles to follow, as if they were all equally nonessential and absurd.

“So why a non-religious venue?” Leanne asked. “Why the winery?”

“Well, when you own a wedding venue...” Stiles joked, and Peter squeezed his shoulder, silently reining him in before he could wander too far off-script. He couldn’t help the grin, though.

“We spend a lot of time there, and it’s a beautiful location,” Peter explained. “We like that it’s a little more secluded – a royal wedding is always going to have a lot of flash and publicity, but we want there to be a sense of…” He searched for the right word, glancing off to the side.

“Intimacy,” Stiles filled in. “We want it to feel like our wedding, not just a royal wedding.”

Peter turned and kissed the side of Stiles’s head. Laura would like that.

“Besides, Peter really loves the winery,” Stiles continued. “It’s his labor of love. It wouldn’t feel right if it wasn’t there with us.” He was quite good at these soundbites when he put his mind to it.

“It does look like a spectacular location. I think we have some photos we can run for the viewers,” Leanne said, looking toward the camera. She paused, then turned back to them.

“And will you have a druid officiating the ceremony or will you try for something more… multicultural?” she ventured, fishing for some sign that Stiles was going to muck up royal tradition with weird human shit.

“My family isn’t very religious,” Stiles explained. “My parents were both raised Eastern Orthodox, but I think I went to mass maybe five times as a kid.”

“Our pack emissary will be officiating, as he did for my sister and niece,” Peter added.

Looking unperturbed by the lack of scandal, Leanne changed the subject. “So, Peter, tell me a bit about your suit. We all know you have quite the refined fashion sense.”

Peter couldn’t glance over at Stiles, could only pray that he wasn’t making a derisive face at her words. “It’s slate gray, and we’ve found a really talented embroidery house out of Los Angeles, so it will be embroidered with navy...” He went on about the designer, the ethical manufacturing, the locally sourced artistry. All of the bits Laura had put bold and underlined on his talking points.

Leanne turned to Stiles with a sweet smile, and Peter smelled blood in the metaphorical water. “Of course, the fashion questions here are a bit different than your typical royal wedding. What will you be wearing, Stiles?”

Not ‘tell me about your suit.’ Not ‘will you be wearing the same thing?’

“Any surprises?” she added.

Peter knew it was about to go sideways before Stiles even opened his mouth, but he made no attempt to rein him in this time.

“Well, you know, I was gonna go for the white dress, but I just don’t have the hips for it,” he said. “Besides, have you seen how pale I am?” He held out an arm and pulled up his sleeve in demonstration. “They’ve got flash filters for the werewolf eyes, but nothing’s going to tame all of this pasty goodness dressed in white.” Peter bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

On the other side of the room, he could hear the clipboard in Laura’s hands creaking under the strain of her grip. She thought this was going to be over quickly, or was hoping. Peter knew better, could hear the way Stiles’s tone was ramping up as the indignation and sarcasm and pettiness churned at one another. Once he got going, he would keep going until stopped.

“Plus, there’s all that historical nonsense with white being for virgins -”

The clipboard snapped in half.

“So obviously that was out. Then I started thinking, you know, what’s the opposite of that? And then I thought, leather.” Peter’s battle against his composure was steadily losing ground, his shoulders and chest shaking in silent hysterics. “Leather pants, leather vest – no shirt, of course.” Leanne’s mouth had dropped open, and it seemed she had forgotten how to close it again.

Peter cracked and had to press the side of his fist to his mouth to stifle it. “Sweetheart,” he chastised through laughter, figuring he really should cut this off before Stiles dug himself deeper than even he wanted to go.

Stiles glanced at Peter, sheepish but not half as sheepish as he should have looked, considering. He shook his head and sighed. “I have a matching suit. It’s navy with gray embroidery.”

God, this was a disaster. Talia was going to flay him alive. Peter, for the life of him, couldn’t get his laughter under control. “Why don’t you -” he attempted, but he was still laughing as he spoke. He tried again, still laughing, but powered through. “Why don’t you ask us about catering?” he suggested.

Beside him, Stiles snorted and abruptly broke into wheezing hysterics of his own.

It was the last wedding interview Laura would ask them to do.

----

“Oh my god, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking,” Stiles laughed against Peter’s shoulder. “I thought I was going to drop that fucking candle and burn down the altar.”

They had retreated to the cottage on the east end of the vineyard, where he and Stiles would get thirty whole minutes to catch their breath between the ceremony and the reception. Cameras had followed them on the winding path through the rows of grapevines. Peter, for once, had barely noticed, Stiles’s hand warm and firm in his own, both of them tense and exuberant and giddy with relief all at once.

The second the door had closed behind them, Stiles had pressed into Peter’s space, clinging to him with hysterical little giggles.

For once, Peter didn’t find himself wondering how the optics had turned out, if anyone had made an inappropriate expression during the ceremony, if he hadn’t looked regal enough or if the personalized vows would be well-received.

“Come here,” he said, tugging Stiles over to the sitting area. He pulled back just long enough to take off his suit jacket. Someone had set out a rack with coat hangers for them. God forbid they should arrive to the reception with wrinkled fabric. They sat curled together on the couch, quietly willing their jitters away. “So how does it feel?” Peter asked.

“You mean aside from the crippling anxiety?” Stiles joked. He snuggled in and kissed the spot just below Peter’s earlobe. “Not very different. Just feels like being with you. Feels normal.”

“Yeah, but now you can’t get rid of me,” Peter reminded him with a smirk.

“I already couldn’t get rid of you.” He settled his head against Peter’s shoulder, and Peter could hear his jittery heartbeat steadying.

----

It seemed like hardly any time had passed at all before an attendant came to fetch them for the reception. The cameras trailed after them on the walk to the main hall. Peter could scarcely recognize the place under the layers of fabric and flowers and chandeliers. The decorator had really gone all out to turn his chic, modern winery into a traditional, romantic royal venue.

Peter had expected polite clapping as they entered the room, but Stiles’s contingent of guests broke into raucous hoots and hollers that at first seemed to startle the royals. Then, after a moment, he heard a few familiar voices breaking out in cheers as well – Derek, Laura and Marco, Cora. Talia couldn’t, he knew, but she grinned at him like she wanted to all the same.

The lights dimmed, leaving them with nothing but the summer sun as it streamed through the plate glass windows. The music came up.

A few months before they got together, Peter had showed up at Stiles’s apartment one night to the sound of The Four Tops crooning I’m in a Different World. Stiles had been at the stove in a pair of jeans and an apron, waving a spatula as he sung along. He turned around and grinned at Peter, still swinging his hips and dancing like an idiot.

“This is a change of pace for you,” Peter had commented. Normally, Stiles listened to club music, pop, electronica.

“My dad and I found a bunch of my mom’s old CDs when I was helping him move,” Stiles explained. He removed a pancake from the skillet, then turned the stove off. “She was obsessed with Motown. I’ve been listening to it for, like, three days straight.”

The song ended, and soft piano came on, a song Peter didn’t recognize.

“Oh man, she loved this one,” Stiles sighed. He turned and wandered toward Peter.

Then, Gladys Knight’s soft voice joined the music, singing,

“I've had my share of life's ups and downs

But fate's been kind, the downs have been few

I guess you could say that I've been lucky

Well, I guess you could say that it's all because of you”

Stiles’s arms settled over his shoulders, and Peter gripped his hips, helpless to do anything but sway with the music while Stiles sang along. It felt silly, but then Stiles looked him in the eye as he sang, “Cause you're the best thing that ever happened to me.” And it didn’t feel silly at all.

The first dance song would be called out in most of the endless blog lists of ‘surprises and unforgettable moments’ from their wedding. Another that made the majority of the lists came just after dinner.

Talia, seated at Peter’s right, stood and tapped her fork against her glass. She hardly needed the noise, though. The moment she rose, every eye went immediately to her, the room falling silent within moments.

“I want, once again, to thank everyone for being here to celebrate with us today,” she said, her tone poised. “Peter, Stiles, I can’t express the joy I feel when I see the two of you together, how happy you make one another. I know it’s traditional for wedding gifts to be opened after the wedding, but I have one which doesn’t come wrapped in paper. If you don’t mind, I would like to present it to you now.”

Peter lifted his eyebrows at her and nodded. He had a pretty good idea of where this was going. There had been quite a lot of buzz over whether Talia would carve out part of the crown’s territory for Peter and Stiles or whether she would leave them without titles beyond succession to the crown. There had also been quite a lot of talk over whether two men could hold the same title.

An attendant came to Talia’s side and supplied her with a scroll of paper, tied with a blue ribbon. “Peter, Stiles, it is my honor to grant you title over a part of our family’s territory. And it seems fitting to make the announcement here, in a place you have made yourselves so much at home.”

It was Santa Rosa, then. A small city, to be sure, but notable enough in name that it would give some measure of respectability.

“By my decree, I now grant to both of you the title Duke of Sonoma County.”

Peter’s jaw dropped. Not just Santa Rosa but the whole county. While Talia was the queen of the entirety of the United States and Canada, the crown held direct rule over ten counties surrounding San Francisco Bay. By land area, Sonoma County was the largest of the ten. He looked over at Stiles and found the same stunned look on his face.

Belatedly, Peter lurched to his feet, and leaned in to take the paper and kiss his sister on the cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured.

----

Of the blogs and tabloid articles and Youtube videos recounting the surprises and touching moments, the ending of their vows made an appearance in every one.

He and Stiles stood at the altar, hands held together, wrapped in a white cloth. They had gone back and forth, exchanging the vows one by one.

Do you promise to protect me?

I do. Do you promise to protect me?”

I do.

Do you promise to be patient?

Finally, Peter said, “Do you promise to love me always, even when I get on your nerves?”

And Stiles grinned and squeezed his hands inside of the cloth. “Peter, I promise to love you always. Especially when you get on my nerves. Do you promise to love me always, even when I get on your nerves?”

“Especially then.”

----

The real surprising moment, which none of the tabloids would learn about, came at the end of the night, when half of the guests had retired to their hotels or homes. A buffet of Indian food had been brought in as a late-night snack. Stiles was sitting with some of his friends, his head resting on Kira’s shoulder as he stuffed pakora into his face with half-lidded eyes.

Peter felt as tired as Stiles looked. He had been warned that wedding night sex was essentially a myth. Talia had advised him to leave the comforter off the bed in the cottage. By the time everything was over, they would be too exhausted to even pull back the blankets.

“Peter,” said a voice to his left, and he forced himself to smile as he looked up. Archduchess Iris was his great-aunt, on his father’s side. She had been around quite a lot when he was a child, but less so since his parents passed in his twenties. He remembered her as being old back then, her face creased with wrinkles, hair gray and white. The only difference now was that she had lost the bits of gray.

“Aunt Iris,” he greeted, standing and kissing her cheek. “I’m so glad you could make it. And impressed that you’re still out partying at this hour.” Most of the older guests had made their exits already.

She smiled and sat next to him. “Well, I wanted to give you my personal congratulations before I leave,” she told him, and Peter couldn’t help but feel touched. Most of the older generation had seemed affronted or at least mildly uncomfortable since his coming out. Marrying a commoner human hadn’t helped matters. “You seem very happy.”

“I am,” he agreed. “Thank you. It means a lot, knowing my family is happy for me.”

“It’s been a difficult adjustment, for a lot of the family,” she conceded. “They worry what it means for our species, for our titles, our culture.” She patted his hand. “They’re not malicious people. They just fear change.” Iris sighed and reached into her purse, pulling out a small slip of paper. “I know that you will be able to uphold our way of life as well as anyone, Peter. You’re a good man.”

She passed him the paper, and Peter felt his heart lurch as he looked it over. Epona Surrogacy Services: surrogacy specialists for weres, kitsune, and others. He looked up at her, not sure what to say.

“You didn’t think you would get out of the baby nagging just because you’re gay, did you?” she teased.

“Honestly?” Peter breathed, looking back down at the card. “I sort of did.”

----

As Talia had predicted, they barely managed to get out of their suits after they retired to the cottage for the night. They slept until nearly noon the next day, lazy and warm in the soft light that filtered through the curtains. Stiles lie on top of him, rutting against him with two of Peter’s fingers curled inside of him. He came with a quiet moan against Peter’s lips. Once he had recovered, he sat up and rode him at an agonizingly slow pace until Peter thought he would lose his mind.

“Your first act as my husband is to torture me,” Peter whined. He tried again to grip Stiles’s hips, though Stiles had already batted his hands away twice. This time, he grabbed both of Peter’s hands and laced their fingers together.

“You knew what you were getting yourself into,” Stiles replied.

Afterward, they opted to shower separately, if only because they had a plane to catch that afternoon. Peter was still rinsing the shampoo from his hair when Stiles came back into the bathroom and leaned against the counter.

“Surrogacy services, huh?” he called over the sound of the water.

Peter froze, then hastily finished rinsing before sticking his head out of the shower door. “My Aunt Iris gave that to me last night,” he explained. “She said we weren’t going to get out of the baby nagging simply because we’re both men.”

Stiles stared down at the card thoughtfully. “And this...” He waved the card toward Peter. “This is something you want to do?”

He hesitated. It was a big discussion, one that they had touched on in more vague terms. A conversation he thought they would start having much, much later than this. The last they had left it, they were both open to the idea, but neither of them felt that they needed children in their lives to be fulfilled. “I don’t know,” Peter admitted.

“Me neither,” Stiles agreed.

Peter reached back and turned the water off. He could use leave-in conditioner. Reaching for a towel, he suggested, “Would it be okay if we tabled this until after the honeymoon?”

Stiles’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Definitely.”

----

An attendant had left them a newspaper to read on their way to Bali. Peter glanced through it while Stiles played games on his computer.

Smiling, he nudged Stiles’s arm and turned the paper to show him the headline of the Society section:

Princes Peter and Stiles Buck Tradition with Style

#Steter #stiles stilinski #Peter Hale #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf au #royals au #hale royal family au #wedding time #part 4 of 6 #because I have no self control #rated I for I don't know how to tag rated e fics without angering the bots

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1052

surveys by lets-make-surveys

1 - Who was the last person to knock on your door? Were they there to see you? Nina usually knocks briefly in the evening to let me know it’s time for dinner. Other than my ex in the past, I don’t let anyone stay in my room for long. Knocking and peeking into my room is enough.

2 - Have you left the house yet today? If not, do you have plans to leave the house later on? No, as it’s only 10 in the morning and I don’t really have a reason to be out somewhere this early. I might go out to buy presents for more relatives, but that’s only if I feel productive enough today. We’ll see.

3 - What’s your favourite brand of chocolate? What type of chocolate bar from that brand is your favourite? The older I get the more I feel like gagging from the idea of chocolate bars lol; they’re all just so sweet. These days my top three would be Hershey’s cookies and cream bar, Whittaker’s chocolate peanut butter bar, and Twix bars. I also love Reese’s, but they aren’t bars.

4 - Have you ever met someone in person who you first met on the internet? Do you have plans to do that anytime soon? Yes, I’ve done this before and I’ve recounted the stories on here multiple times. As for the second question, yeah I technically do? I’ve only met my workmates online so far, so I’m constantly looking forward to the opportunity to finally meet them all in real life.

5 - What was the last thing you used a blender for? I’ve never used a blender. We don’t even own a blender.

6 - Have you ever got into an argument with a stranger on social media? Do you remember what it was about? Yeah, but I don’t even remember what it was about anymore...I do know it was this year, and the person deleted the comment that I replied to not long after.

7 - When was the last time you cracked your joints? Is that something you do often? Now that you reminded me, I just did. I do it at least once a day, whenever my fingers start to feel tight and tense.

8 - What time is it right now? If you weren’t doing a survey, what else would you be doing right now? It is 1:52 PM. I’d be heading to the mall to buy more presents, but I don’t feel like getting out of bed yet. I’d also do embroidery, but my online orders are taking a while to arrive :( My online shopping app says I'll be getting them by Jan 3rd, but the shipping tracker says it’s already being shipped from China to here so I’m looking forward to receiving it this week. I hope that’s the case; otherwise it’ll miss the point of being my hobby this Christmas break.

9 - If you had ten minutes to run around an empty supermarket and fill your trolley for free, what’s the first aisle you’d go for? The fancy meat/fish section. Then I’d go to the condiments/spice section, then frozen food, then chips.

10 - Aside from Tumblr, what websites do you visit the most and why? YouTube, because I find videos a soothing distraction; Twitter to keep me updated on local and international news; Reddit for quirky posts; and Wikipedia so I can continue learning trivia I’ll never have to use but want to gain anyway.

11 - Has COVID had any impact on your Christmas plans this year? What’s going to change or be different to normal? My dad is home for Christmas this year, which is one silver lining from Covid. But my relatives living abroad who usually fly back to the Philippines for the holidays obviously won’t be able to this year, so we’re not gonna have a packed family reunion like we normally do. Everything else is the same, but I think the biggest thing about this whole thing is that I can barely feel Christmas coming this year. I think it’s going to feel like such a plain Friday this week; and that makes me a little sad.

12 - What’s your favourite flavour of cake? Are you any good at making that kind of cake? My favorite flavor is chocolate, but my favorite kind of cake (which I enjoy a lot more than general chocolate cake) is cheesecake. I cannot make either, nor can I bake at all.

13 - Do you prefer sweet or sour candy? Sweet. I hate any sour foods with a passion lol especially sour candy; it is my absolute least favorite taste. I don’t find anything enjoyable or fulfilling about it.

14 - What colour is your favourite fruit? Is this a fruit you eat often? Already made my feelings for fruit clear on this blog, haha.

15 - Is your favourite restaurant an independent place or a chain? What is it that you love about it so much? It’s a chain, like most popular restaurants here. Independent places are a little hard to come by, to be honest. They make the best katsu I’ve ever had; and I also like that despite being a chain restaurant, the ambience is still quite sophisticated and date-friendly so I always feel like I’m treating myself whenever I eat there.

16 - Are you genuinely a fan of Starbucks or do you think it’s all hype? I personally enjoy everything about Starbucks. I like their coffees, their Frappes, the ambience in their coffee shops, their playlists, and their line-up of mugs and tumblers. I’ve always felt right at home in their shops and out of all the cafés I’ve been to, it’s always their baristas that have been the nicest.

17 - Do you own a Christmas jumper? What design/pattern does it have on it? No, I don’t.

18 - What’s your favourite fit/style of jeans? I was obsessed with mom jeans throughout 2020.

19 - What was the last non-essential item you spent money on? Overpriced coffee and a sandwich.

20 - Are you currently under any COVID-related restrictions where you live? Are people generally following the rules? Public places are super strict with requiring everyone to wear a face shield and face mask; before entering any establishment, people’s temperatures are taken and everyone’s also required to take a contact tracing form. Anyone under the age of 21 still isn’t allowed to go out for the most part, though I think there are some exceptions now because I see kids younger than me already going on out-of-town trips again. Some places that are big on tourism like Sagada, Batanes, and Baguio are still closed off from the public; those that have since reopened, like Boracay, follow strict protocol and everyone going there is required to undergo a swab test. Everyday Filipinos follow the rules; it’s the politicians and police force who don’t, which feels disgusting to say.

21 - What did you last leave the room you’re in to do? A package arrived for me so I had to pay for it. It was the phone case I ordered for my cousin.

22 - Have you ever read any self-help books? Did you find them useful? No. I don’t really believe in that genre, so I never felt pulled to buy a book.

23 - What’s your favourite programme on the Food Network (if you watch it)? If you don’t get that channel, what’s your favourite food/cookery show in general? All things Gordon Ramsay, man. MasterChef, Hell’s Kitchen, and Kitchen Nightmares are all *chef’s kiss* The Great British Bake Off is also great and something I like watching when I want to wind down :)

24 - Do you still watch cartoons? From time to time.

25 - Who do you know with the most number of siblings? Would you ever want to live in a huge family? My grandpa was one of nine siblings, if I’m not mistaken. I’m not sure if I know a bigger set than that. Unless my family was filthy rich, I would not want to have such a big immediate family.

26 - Are you a fan of garlic bread? Sure. I tend to ask for others’ too, heh.

27 - Do you own any personalised clothing? What’s the reason for getting it? No, not a fan. Two years ago we had a huge family reunion on my dad’s side and we had to wear these cheesy shirts that said “[Last Name] Reunion” with some cheesy motto at the bottom. My parents hated it, which made me feel better about my own feelings about the shirt lol.

28 - Is anyone else in the same room as you right now? What is that person up to? No, it’s just me here.

29 - What colours are you wearing right now? Does your wardrobe contain a lot of those colours? White, maroon, and scarlet. I have a lot of white and maroon; not so much of scarlet as I find the color too bold.

30 - Do you like adding condiments to your food? If so, what are some of your favourites? Yes. My food always needs to have soup, condiments, or sauces; otherwise I tend to feel the dish is too dry. I like mayonnaise, banana ketchup, hot sauce, and lechon sauce.

1 - What have you been up to so far today? Is that a typical thing for you to do on this particular day of the week? I’ve taken a couple of surveys and started binge-watching segments of my newest Korean reality show discovery, 2 Days 1 Night. The breakout actor from Start-Up and the newest love of my life HAHAHA is a cast member on the current season of 2D1N so I’ve been all over the show today. It’s hilarious; I can hardly believe I’m only discovering the show this late.

2 - Did you get a decent night’s sleep last night? How many hour’s sleep do you consider a decent amount? It was around five hours, which isn’t a lot to me. I usually sleep 7-9 hours these days, but I might wreck my body clock during the holiday break because I want to keep being awake and do the things I haven’t been able to do because of work.

3 - What is one silly thing that really gets on your nerves? Seeing pickles in a burger.

4 - Who was the last person you saw who wasn’t family? What did you guys end up doing together? The friendly Starbucks barista from yesterday; her name was Princess. We didn’t do anything lol, she just took my order and was super friendly about it, and she also gave me the Starbucks planner that I chose to redeem.

5 - Do you prefer hot or cold drinks overall? Cold. I avoid hot drinks now haha. Ever since I had that incident with the takoyaki, I’ve been too scared to let any hot food or drink touch my mouth.

6 - Do you own a decent set of waterproofs? If so, what do you use them for the most? If not, do you think that would be something you’d find useful? I don’t know what this is referring to, and I’m too lazy to Google right now. I’ve only ever known this word as an adjective, whoops.

7 - Do you have any plans for the rest of the day? Take more surveys, and maybe have another cup of coffee. I’ll also have to get started on a daily report I submit for work every weekday morning so that my load will be lighter tomorrow. Our office is technically on shutdown until January 4th, but some clients require a daily report every day and I’ll have to shoulder that with another co-associate. It sucks, but at least it’s the only thing I’ll have to do for the next two weeks.

8 - How often do you get your hair cut? When hairdressers were closed due to COVID, did you try cutting it yourself at home? I only go to the salon once a year, and I already did it this 2020 when I chopped off my hair and got bangs. Yeah, whenever my bangs start to get too long I either ask my mom to trim them or I do so myself.

9 - What did you wear the last time you left the house? Is that different to what you’re wearing at the moment? I walked Cooper half an hour ago and I just stayed in the same clothes I’ve been in all day, which was a tank top underneath an oversized hoodie and a pair of shorts.

10 - Would you rather have a relaxing beach holiday or a more active holiday in the mountains? The beach would be perfect right now, but I think my answer changes every time this is asked and I’m pretty sure I picked mountains the last time HAHAHA. I just realized being in the mountains would give me the same cooped-up feeling I’ve been having from staying at home for such a long time, and it might not be the best and healthiest trip for me...the beach definitely sounds more freeing and therapeutic.

11 - Do you know how to tie a tie? Nah, never learned. I’ve never been good at tying anything up, period.

12 - How old were you when you first had a sleepover at someone’s house? Did you miss home? I was 15 or 16; I’m not entirely sure anymore. Not at all, I was so excited to have been allowed to go to my first sleepover.

13 - How often do you spend time with your extended family? Under normal circumstances, we’d visit my grandma and cousins on my mom’s side once every few months or so. It was pretty regular since they’re just a stone’s throw away. But obviously we’ve since had to drastically cut our get-togethers back, and I’ve only seen them around three times since the beginning of the year. My dad’s family lives pretty far south, so I only get to see them once or twice a year even in pre-Covid days; not much of a difference there.

14 - When you get up in the morning, do you have a set routine? No. I just wake up feeling dread and have no choice but to wait for the weight in my chest to subside.

15 - Do you remember the last time you cried? Were they sad or happy tears? Yesterday in my car, in the mall parking lot. Sad tears.

16 - What do you have planned once you finish this survey? Look for another one. I misseddddd taking surveys and I plan on taking a crap ton of them this Christmas break. I may also be called for dinner, so there’s that.

17 - What was the last thing you cooked? Did you cook from scratch or just heat something up? I dunno if it counts as cooking, but I just made the DIY ramen kit that I received as a Christmas gift from the branch I was originally an intern at. Everything was already prepared in the kit and all I needed to do was boil water for the noodles and prepare the broth. Turned out surprisingly good.

18 - Are you a fan of hot chocolate? Do you like it plain or do you prefer to add things like whipped cream or marshmallows? I love hot chocolate and will order it sometimes, but given my aforementioned fear of hot beverages I always wait for it to considerably cool down hahaha. I like my hot chocolate plain.

19 - What caused your last injury? Cooper’s nails.

20 - How many tattoos and piercings do you have? Do any of them have an interesting story behind them? Just a piercing on each of my earlobes. No interesting stories...yet.

21 - What kind of flowers do you like the best? When was the last time someone bought those for you? I like peonies, though I’m not sure if my ex ever gave me a bouquet that included those.

22 - What’s the smallest thing you’ve ended a relationship over? I’ve only been with one person and I dated her twice, but I was never the one who ended the relationship either time so can’t really answer this.

23 - Would you rather order a starter (appetiser) or a dessert? Or would you be able to manage a full three courses? Three-course meal, pls. I’ve only experienced it once, when my parents treated me to dinner during my cruise gift for my 18th birthday; it was great and every dish was made amazingly well.

24 - How do you get most of your news, if you pay attention to it at all? I catch the evening news every weeknight because we keep the telvision turned on during dinner. I also get to read articles on social media.

25 - Have you or a member of your family been diagnosed with COVID yet? None that I know of, thankfully. It’s always been someone that a relative knows, but so far none of us have gotten it.

26 - Are you a vegetarian? If so, what persuaded you to stop eating meat? If not, is it something you’d ever consider? No. I have been considering it for years, but I truthfully don’t know if I could give up meat.

27 - Do you prefer rice or pasta? Rice.

28 - Is anything you’re wearing a gift? Who bought it for you? No.

29 - What’s the dominant colour in the room you’re in at the moment? I guess white, since my walls are white and that’s the first thing you see when entering my room.

30 - Did you do laundry yet today? If not, do you need to do any before you go to bed? Not my chore to do, but it was already done a few days ago.

#survey #surveys #multiple surveysss

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zankivich · 5 years

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In My Blood: Wolf!Shawn x Black Reader: A coffee shop/baker AU

a/n: Look. I’ve been reading fanfic a long ass time. And I’ve been reading supernatural fanfic just about as long. And I dead ass have never in my 21 years encountered a story where the point of view, where the story, is centered on a black woman. So, we gone change that today. I am absolutely obsessed with this. It honestly started out pretty horrid, so I’m so happy she came together. I hope y’all like it! Let me know tbh.

Trigger warnings: mentions of sexual situations, conversations regarding race/hint at police brutality, cussing

It rained the day you moved in. This would go on to become your new normal though so you thought you might as well get used to it. Moving to a new town was always hard. It helped a little bit that the town was so small, tucked quietly away in the midst of trees and general greenery, it was just extremely different from your norm. You’d been a doctor in a large city for a few years where the hustle and bustle of corporate medicine had taken its toll on you. You wanted an intimate setting of clientele, not squeezing people in just for the sake of money and greed. So, when you saw an ad looking to basically apprentice someone into their practice so they could retire, you took the leap and left.The nearest hospital was a bit of a drive, forty-five or so minutes into the city, so the clinic usually served most people for their day to day problems. It was perfect.

So, you packed up all of your shit and moved to this tiny town, the kind of town where people noticed when someone new arrived. It was also the kind of town where when the Black girl moved in with her shea butter and head scarfs, people might feel inclined to take pause. The good news was that you were unapologetic and quite ready to make yourself comfortable. One might say you were ready to take on the world.

One day when you were still settling in, but couldn’t take unpacking another box you went for a walk to try and get used to the new town around you. The first thing you stumbled upon was a cute little coffee shop with this beautiful image of a wolf as its logo. You quickly stepped inside. There were a few people sat around tables with their earbuds in typing away on laptops. The counter was large and took up most of the shop with a big display of baked treats sitting proudly beside the register. There was no line, but you could clearly see a guy cleaning up at one of the tables so you stepped towards to the display case to see if anything caught your eye.

“I’ll be with you in one moment!” He called moving so quickly he was practically a blur.

“Oh no worries, take your time.”

You were stuck between a chocolate croissant that looked like it was the size of your head and a cinnamon bun of equal proportion when he finally stepped up the counter.

“So sorry about that, what can I get you?”

You looked up and honest to god your heart must have skipped a beat. First of all your eyes went to the average height of any other human you’d ever talked to you, which barely cleared the abs of this ridiculous human being. And then there was the color in his cheeks which stood so starkly on his jagged jawline. His eyes were honey brown and he had these beautiful curls that seemed to take on a life of their own. He was absolutely beautiful. And huge. And warm looking in the apron that was slung around his waist. Honestly what the hell?

It didn’t help that he seemed to pause when he saw you too. As if anything you had going on could cause the kind of reaction this man was creating within you.

“Uhhhhh...H--Hello.” You stammered awkwardly, brain completely fried.

WORDS WORDS WHAT ARE WORDS?

“You’re new here.” He murmured teeth nipping at his bottom lip.

“Yea. I um I just moved into town over the weekend actually. I’m working at the clinic with Dr. Savage? I’ll be taking over for him eventually.”

He hummed and it was like windchimes.

“Ah, I didn’t know Dr. Savage had actually found someone. He certainly didn’t mention you.”

“Should he have?” You asked slightly confused.

“Oh, we just go way back. He’s a family friend, and really important to the community. I always stop in and bring him breakfast after the rush here.”

“Ah.”

He stared at you for a second and you stared back and it wasn’t awkward, but more charged, more like both of you wanted to say something that you couldn’t find the words for. Eventually he smiled and his teeth glinted sending your heart into another round of unsteady rhythms.

“I’m sorry. You must be waiting for me to actually do my job. What can I get you, honey?”

Jesus. Christ.

You smiled. “I think I was actually trying to figure out if I should try the chocolate croissant or the cinnamon roll. Which would you recommend?”

“Both.” He said instantly. “You should have both.”

You chuckled. “Please. They’re massive. I could never finish them.”

“You can take them home with you.”

“I could always just come back to try the other.”

“I’d rather you come back knowing what you want.” He murmured.

You paused for another moment, his statement seeming to be layered. There was also something about his eyes, so warm and inviting, that it was incredibly difficult to say no. You were a black woman after all, you’d been raised to say no. What was up this guy?

“Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll surprise you instead? Would you like a cup of coffee too?”

You nodded slowly. “Can you make a white mocha?”

“‘Course I can.” He grinned showing off his teeth once again.

You thought it best you just go sit down because you were beginning to feel lightheaded.

It was hard not to get swept up in his energy. He was wearing a white t-shirt that hung on his body beautifully. His shoulders were broad and twitched endlessly under the fabric as he shuffled around behind the counter. You suddenly wished you could draw or paint, because surely he was deserving of such a treatment.

When he stepped back up to your table his hands were completely full. He was balancing two plates in one palm and a massive cup of coffee on the other. You were starting to get the sense that portions weren’t really a thing here. You also couldn’t help but noticed that nothing looked too big when he was holding it in his hands. But nothing could have prepared you for him to set down your treats and then immediately plop a squat beside you.

“I want to see your first reaction. Everyone in town is old and comes here every day.” He smiled.

You swallowed. “Well I guess if you’re gonna join me for breakfast you could at least tell me your name.”

“I’m Shawn.” He chuckled reaching his oven mit sized hand out for yours.

“Y/n.”

His hand was warm. In fact he seemed to radiate heat like an oven. But, you couldn’t tell if that was you sweating like an idiot or if he just really was that warm. What a shit show.

“That’s a beautiful name. Now try your croissant, please?”

He gently nudged the plate forward until it bumped against your hand. You rolled your eyes playfully at him before pulling at the flaky bread with the chocolatey center and popping it square in your mouth. Holy fuck it was good. You thought that maybe it was hard to fuck up a croissant, but surely it had to be just as hard to make the best one. Your face must have shown how good it was because he smiled at you big and warm like. It was so incredibly rude.

“Wow, that is so fucking good!” You giggled.

“That means I’m doing my job well. Thank you, it makes me happy. You uh got a little something on your lip though.”

You frowned and licked quickly at your lips in the hopes of ridding the offending mark only for him to shake his head softly at you. It caused one of his curls to flop down in front of his face. Wow was he beautiful. You dipped your head down both to try and find the chocolate as well to not have to look him in the eyes anymore, and still you couldn’t get it. How pathetic.

“Here, c’mere.” He mumbled leaning forward in his chair.

His large palm caught your cheek in his hand as his thumb rubbed softly at your lip. He was warm. Warmer than warm and it made your heart beat loud and fast in your chest. Your lips parted and you felt air whoosh past them. You swore that his eyes got brighter in that moment, that they actually got more honey and less brown. It was incredible.

“I--I’m so sorry. That was really inappropriate of me.”

“No uh...you’re okay. Thank you for not letting me walk around all day with shit on my face.”

He chuckled softly so you did the same.

By the time you’re stuffed with various forms of sugary breads and he’s refilled your coffee twice, you realize that your plan to explore the town had much more turned into exploring the attractive man in the only coffee shop around apparently. You were reminded of your pact with yourself to absolutely not get into a relationship in your first year here. Not that Shawn would have any interest in you in a non-platonic way, but it did mean you probably shouldn’t get your hopes up. So, you politely got your leftover sweets put in a box and got out of there as soon as you could. When he asked if you would be back the next day you just shrugged your shoulders and told him maybe before practically running for the door. You had to stay away.

***

Your first day at the clinic finds you up at six in the morning. You wanted to give off a good impression, so you made coffee in this funky old coffee maker in the corner. You cleaned up some of the mess that had been lying around and even checked the email where it looked like Dr. Savage had struggled to get working. You managed to set him up a couple of social media accounts and even took his older logo of a wolf howling at the moon and updated it slightly using one of the random editing websites online.

By the time your boss arrived it had been quite a productive morning and you were happy to see his eyes light up at all that you accomplished.

“We’re gonna be a good fit, I think.” He said to you.

You agreed.

Before the open sign had even been flipped, the bell on the door clanged as someone entered the space. Dr. Savage rose slowly from his chair and went to check on it leaving you with a stack of paperwork to start thumbing through.

You hear the soft chatter of voices and then footsteps as your boss lead someone back to your area. At first you figured it was just a customer that had arrived a little to early, but it didn’t take long for you to pause at your desk as the familiar timbre hit your ear.

“Y/n, I have someone to introduce you to.” Dr. Savage called.

“Actually, I think we’ve already met.”

And there he is. It was raining outside, a near constant for the tiny town, leave his curls floppy and wet atop his head. This didn’t stop him from running his fingers through the strands and sending that dumb, perfectly straight smile at you now did it? You looked at Dr. Savage with what was sure to be a gaping mouth before peering back at Shawn. Bitch if you don’t get your shit together.

“H--Hello, Shawn. It’s nice to see you again.” You smiled.

He nodded. “You never came back to the shop. I thought maybe I’d made a bad first impression.”

“Actually you uh...you made quite a good one. I’ve just been trying to settle in a little more.”

And trying to stay far away from white boys with smiles like yours.

“Well that’s good at least. I’ve got a new recipe I’ve been meaning to try out. You’ll have to stop by and test it for me.”

Dr. Savage snickered and clapped his hand on the back of Shawn’s beautiful, burly shoulder.

“Stop flirting with my employee and come to my office will you? Y/n, if anyone rings can you handle it?”

Shawn’s cheeks took on a brilliant red hue that matched beautifully with his golden eyes. It softened him somehow. He was so big and so muscular, and yet you had the feeling that you could crawl into his arms and wouldn’t mind somehow. Shit.

“Of course. I’ve got it handled!”

Shawn smiled sheepishly at you before allowing Dr. Savage to pull him along to his office. You shook your head and turned back to your work wanting to to have all of the medications and tools ready for the appointments that you had coming in that day. It wasn’t even a minute later that someone was walking up behind you and placing a cup and box on the counter. You turned to look up into those warm eyes of his again with a smirk on his lips to match.

“White mocha and a cinnamon roll. I figured I might see you this morning so…”

“Oh Shawn you didn’t have to--”

“Wanted to. Good morning, honey.” He breathed before heading back to Dr. Savage’s office. “Let me know if it’s better than the croissant.”

With the door closed, you can finally focus on something other than the beautiful man from the coffee shop. Once you establish your rhythm, you’re able to send all of the reminder emails for the appointments for the week, schedule the few people who do call in, and organize the supply closet. When a client actually does come in, you help them with their paperwork, get it filed, and do the preliminary check ups and vitals. By the time Dr. savage is actually meant to see the patient, Shawn is already gone. There’s a tinge of disappointment when he’s not around, before you remembered that you weren’t in high school anymore and that you actually had a job to do. Idiot.

The rest of the day is busy with clients, paperwork, and billing. Dr. Savage doesn’t take his lunch break, so neither do you. By the time the sun had gone down you’re exhausted, and the two of you work smoothly side by side to clean the clinic for you to do it all over the next day.

“So uh...How do you know Shawn?” You murmured eyes completely on the broom you were sweeping with.

He chuckled softly. “I’ve known the kid since he was born. I’m what the town calls an elder. I know mostly everybody. I worked very closely with his father when he was elder as well.”

“Was an elder?”

“Yes. Shawn’s father actually passed away a few years ago. He was what you would have called our town leader. And with his absence, Shawn has had to step up to the plate. So I look after him to offer guidance. This isn’t exactly the sort of thing they provide you training on.”

“Hmm...well, why does Shawn have to take over the town? Like what if he didn’t want to?” You asked.

“It’s not really an option. It’s in his blood.”

That was odd. Suddenly you were seeing Shawn in a bit of a different light. He was no longer just the cute baker barista down the street. Apparently the expectations for him were far greater. He didn’t even look old enough to be a town leader. And the thought that he might not even have a choice did something strange in your heart. You felt...protective of him. There was this weird feeling in your stomach that you should fight Dr. Savage on what he’d said, that Shawn should get to do whatever the hell made him happy. And you didn’t know how to reconcile these thoughts with the fact that you’d only just met him. It didn't make any sense. None of this made any sense.

***

It was another dreary weekend. The clinic being closed meant that you had plenty of free time to fix up your new house. Because you had only moved clear across the country to be here, you didn’t exactly have furniture. So, armed with your rainboots and headwrap you braved the horrid weather in search for a desk and a new bed frame so that you might not have to sleep on a mattress on the floor anymore.

There was only one furniture store in town that happened to double as the all around convenience store for the town. You were hopeful that it wouldn’t be too expensive, as you were trying not to blow your entire savings. First, you headed straight for the beds peering inquisitively at the frames and trying to determine which would actually be better. Adulting for you often times meant bullshiting your way through situations, and you frankly had no clue what made for a good bed or not.

While you were searching you heard the rowdy laughter that typically came with testosterone. A chill ran down your spine as you were blasted back to the past of middle school boys tugging on your pigtails on the playground and running off in fits of giggles. This group was certainly not those middle school boys though. They were all huge. You peered curiously at them as they rough housed and pushed playfully at one another. Something had to be in the water in this town because every single one of them you saw was bigger than the next. A man with red hair shoulder checked another man with shoulder length brown hair sending him into a display of pillows and knocking a couple of the over onto this floor. This only caused the lot of them to laugh harder, and that’s when he stepped out.

“Can we try not to act like wild animals in the store please?!”

Shawn pushed through the crowd of them, everyone immediately straightening up as if a sergeant in the army was addressing them. It was like night and day, the difference. His command of them was quite frankly a little startling...and a lot hot.

“Bro, we kinda are?” The red haired one snickered, only to get playfully slapped upside the head by Shawn.

“Not funny jackass. You’re skating on thin ice for breaking the door to begin with. Now let’s get a new one and get the hell out of here.”

He was wearing a black long sleeved sweater that molded to his body like a fucking dream and smoothed down into black skinny jeans and matching boots. Where the hell did they find this guy at? Shawn reached for one of the pillows before standing up straight and immediately looking you dead in the eye. You were definitely caught staring. Nice.

“Go pick out the door, and I’ll meet you all the cash register.” He mumbled already making a beeline for you.

You peered down at your bright yellow rain boots and thermal leggings and cursed whatever thought you’d had that morning to be cozy. This man looked like a greek god on the cover of GQ and you were serving nothing but childishness.

“Hi.” He spoke warmly waving at you in a way that sort of clapped his hand together.

He stepped closer to you, leaning on one of the bedposts and pointing that wicked smile at you.

“I’m beginning to think this town might be too small, if I keep running into you like this.” You smirked.

“You don’t like running into me? I’m hurt.”

“I suppose I don’t mind it. Surely you must be getting tired of me though?”

He shook his head. “On the contrary, I think I don’t see you nearly enough.”

It had its intended effect. You giggled like a schoolgirl. Ugh.

“You getting a new bed?”

“Y--Yea. I uh actually just packed up and moved here with whatever could fit into my car, so I’m kind of in need of a few things at the moment.”

“Oh...So you’re sleeping on the floor right now?” He frowned suddenly leaning closer into your space.

You caught a whiff of what smelled like sandalwood, spice, and musk. It was incredibly intoxicating. Literally where did he come from?

“I have a mattress, but yes I guess you could say that.”

“We have to find you a bed. C’mere I think I know a good one.”

He grabbed your hand, you were starting to figure out that personal space wasn’t really a thing when you were six feet tall and built from steel, and quickly pulled you over to the neatly lined boxes of frames.

“Wait, Shawn. What about your friends? You don’t need to help me.”

He shook his head. “Those guys will take forever to figure out what door we need. I’d rather spend it helping you. Trust me.”

There was a dark brown wooden frame that on the box looked pretty beautiful. Shawn picked it up gently with both hands as if it was nothing and presented it to you.

“When I broke mine a few months back this is the one I got. It’s really good. Sturdy.”

You peered up at him, because up was the only way to see his face, and probably gawked him. You didn’t want to know what he had been doing that caused his bed frame to break. However, a part of you wanted to know every detail. He seemed to pick up on the implications if the reddening in his cheeks was anything to go off of, and quickly laughed and tugged his curls more perfectly into place.

“N--Not like that. I uh it was an accident actually. I was moving the furniture around in my room and it just didn’t end well for me.” He smiled sheepishly. “But uh, this one’s real good. And since I’ve got one myself I could probably help you put it together.”

“Ah. So, you think I need a man to help me put my furniture together?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No. N--No! No that wasn’t what I meant all!”

He looked good flustered. The strong aggressiveness that he showed the group of guys from earlier was non-existent when he was stammering and looking so panicky. You absolutely adored it and couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your lips. He placed his hand to his heart and took a deep breath at your reaction.

“Geez you scared me . . . I like your laugh by the way. It’s beautiful.”

And just like that the power dynamic was flipped on its head as you were trying not to squeal and he was trying not to piss you off. It was quite the shit show.

“Thank you. I like your smile.” You admitted.

He beamed at you, eyes warm and full of nothing but kindness. You were struggling to remember why you shouldn’t ask him out immediately. He was sort of perfect. And it was just kind of obvious that he might be a little into you too.

“Thank you. I would love to help you put this together if you want that. Not because you need it, but just because I wish someone would’ve helped me put it together myself. And maybe I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you either.”

You bit your lip and peered down at your boots. As per the usual, you were quite grateful for your melanin, but it certainly came in handy when your cheeks were warming up at the sweetness he was laying on thick.

“I’m actually pretty useless when it comes to putting furniture together, so I guess I wouldn’t mind the company either.”

He smiled again, dipping his head to make eye contact with you.

“Yea?”

“Yea.”

He helps you find a desk and then has the audacity to carry them both to the cash register without breaking a sweat. You notice his group of friends eye the both of you as he not only waits for you to pay but then quickly follows you outside to help put them into the car. When the trunk it just barely closed and your backseat is full with your desk, he walks back around to your car and quickly produces his phone.

“So, I have a meeting with my friends back there and that damn door, but what if I came over this evening? Like around five? I don’t want you sleeping on the floor another night.”

“Tonight?” You checked. “Are you sure? We could always do another day.”

“Of course not. I’m free as soon as we’re done. Just text me your address and I’ll come help. I’m looking forward to it!”

“O--Okay.”

You exchanged numbers and he sent you a smile and a wink before walking away for you to hyperventilate in your car. Truly a shit show.

***

You nearly jumped when the knock on the door came. You’d been running around like a chicken with its head cut off for the last three hours trying to make sure your place wasn’t a complete and total mess. Shawn had made no indication that there would be any funny business or that he might try and make a move on you, but that didn't mean you weren’t interested in creating an environment that was conducive to just that. You weren’t consciously breaking your rule of not dating someone, however...if he wanted it bad enough? He could get it.

You opened the door and there he was wearing a t-shirt that left little to the imagination again. He leaned against the frame, teeth glinting for no damn reason and radiating warmth like no other.

“Hi.” He whispered eyes raking you up and down.

You had traded your leggings for some shorts that had shrunk in the dryer and a sweater that showed off your cleavage. Subtle enough to just be an outfit, but obvious enough for his eyes to take pause when he looked. You were, however, still wearing your headwrap that sat on the front of your head in a beautiful, intricate knot.

“I didn’t get to tell you earlier but uh...I really like your head scarf. It’s pretty.”

God this boy was trouble.

“Thank you. Please come in.”

There wasn’t much to show him in terms of your house. It was small and cozy with a pretty big layout. The living room took up much of the space, with your bedroom and bathroom past the tiny kitchen. He followed silently behind you as you pointed to the spaces around you, following way too closely behind if the heat on your back was anything to go off. God, you wanted him closer.

In the bedroom you worked to pull out all of the pieces. You didn’t even pretend that you could offer much besides organizing them in order of the letters in the manual. The best part was apparently watching Shawn struggle at something. As good as putting the frame together before had done for him, this time still did not come naturally. He spent at least twenty minutes with two metal frames in his large hands just squinting and huffing at them as he attempted to get them to fit together. It was incredibly adorable.

“So where are you from anyhow?” He asked still frowning at the pieces.

You grinned at him. “I’m from North Carolina. The better of the Carolinas. Born and raised.”

“Yea? And what made you wanna come to our tiny, rainy town?”

“I went to med school back home, and I worked in a big city for a few years. The pay was great obviously but..I don’t know I just felt like I was trying to get as many bodies in as possible just to make the hospital more money, and I didn’t really get to connect with my patients and take care of them holistically you know? So, when Dr. Savage said he was looking for someone to essentially take over his practice and provide care for a town where I would get to see people grow up and evolve, it just felt right. If I’m honest I think it was gut reaction. I kinda felt like something was tying me here before I even made my decision.”

He peered over at you and his eyes did that thing again where they seemed to get even lighter. The urge to reach out and touch him was nearly unstoppable in that moment.

“I think I know what you mean.”

It was another one of his weighted statements that you’d give anything to understand.

“What about you? Baker extraordinaire by day and it sounds like town leader by night?”

His back straightened at that and he quickly dropped eye contact with you.

“Who told you I was a town leader?”

“Dr. Savage did. He said that you might not have a choice. That it was in your blood.”

You were standing propped against your dresser and you couldn’t help but notice that his jaw got tight and and more pronounced beneath his perfect skin. It was similar to the way he had looked speaking to his friends earlier. There was a maturity and an intensity there that made his edges seem sharper. It wasn’t that he was intimidating necessarily, but that you knew he could be if he wanted to. Shawn had been so soft and so endlessly kind to you since you met that it was a little odd to see him not be that always.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” You murmured playing awkwardly with your fingers. “Don’t be angry with Dr. Savage. I made him tell me. You can be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry. Hey, look at me.” He paused to wait for you to follow his directive. “I’m not angry. I just want you to know things about me from me, alright? This town can be very gossipy and it’s not always accurate. I just want you to know the things that matter.”

“Okay. So, tell me the things that matter.” You shrugged.

He smiled again and the edges softened out.

“What do you want to know honey?”

His favorite color was hunter green, although in the fall he could be persuaded to a mustard yellow. He liked to have cereal as his midnight snack when he couldn’t sleep. When he was a kid he tried to hop a fence and it left a gnarly scar on his abdomen. He liked reading books in bed. He started working in the coffee shop when he was twelve, and his favorite thing to bake was baklava because it was hard and it took a long time to make. The recipe was his mother’s and she’d had it passed down for generations.

“I only make it for special occasions. We don’t even put it on the menu.” He explained.

“Maybe you could make it for me sometime. I don’t know if I’m special enough, but I’d love to try it.”

“Yea, maybe.”

Somehow, someway he gets the bed together. And he helps you put the mattress into the frame. While you put the sheets back onto the bed he gets the desk put together too, which was arguably much easier. By the end you both collapse side by side on the bed peering over at each other as if you’d been doing extreme physical labor instead of simply putting a bed together.

“That was so much work.” You whined. “Thank you. I never would have gotten that damn thing put together.”

“I’m so glad I could be of service.” He chuckled. “Now you can rest a lot easier.”

“You have to let me thank you though. I’d cook dinner, but I don’t have all of my dishes yet. Do you want to order takeout?”

“Are you sure you want me to stay? I don’t want to intrude.”

“No I--I want you to stay. As long as you want to?”

“Yea. I’d love to.”

You stare at each other far too long. It’s not normal. You want to want to stop, but you don’t. And it doesn’t help that he keeps pointing those eyes of his at you and completely clouding your judgement. You physically have to get up off the bed to break the spell. It’s a bit ridiculous.

There’s chinese takeout and really shitty wine. You sit on your couch together side by side, both sitting crisscross applesauce though your legs look far more toddler like in comparison to his. You talk a lot. In all honesty small talk had always been your weak spot. You never knew what questions to act, how to respond, or how to behave. But, with Shawn it was different, which felt so cliche you could feel your ancestors rolling their eyes at you from above. You didn’t have to think super hard because you were genuinely curious about so many things. And he was more than willing to talk nonstop to you about them. And he asked you about your life, and what home was like, and what kind of music you listened to. On top of him being endlessly attractive, and this odd sort of pull that you felt towards him, you thought that he might be the first friend you’d made in town.

“I was so nervous about moving here.” You sighed when the wine had loosened your muscles and you were both leaning way to close into each other’s space.

His eyebrows furrowed in interested. “How come?”

“Well it’s not like this little town of yours is crawling with black people.” You snorted. “I don’t know my mother was always so protective of me and so nervous about what this world could do to me. When I decided to move, she just wanted to know that I would be taken care of. And I guess some of her worries rubbed off on me a little. It’s one thing to be the outsider because you’re new in town. It’s another to also be the outsider because no one looks like you.”

There was a frown on his face now. And you found that you didn’t like it. You liked him happy and soft and warm and nothing else. Your hand came off your glass before you’d even registered it and you almost touched his face to try and smooth out the lines. But, you quickly pulled away before it got that far. This didn’t stop him from somehow getting closer on the suddenly very small couch.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about here. I would never let anyone hurt you.” He murmured feverently.

You chuckled a little, head rolling back against the couch so that you could peer up at the ceiling.

“That’s sweet and idealistic. I don’t know if you noticed, but there aren’t exactly a lot of ‘knight in shining armor rescues the black girl from the cops’ type fairytales. It’s okay though. I’ll be okay. I can take care of myself.” You hummed.

You were still staring up at the ceiling when you heard him sigh and nestle himself deeper into the couch too.

“I keep forgetting that I can’t share everything yet.” He whispered to himself. “It’s not the right time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, never mind.”

There’s silence for a little while except for the even pulls and pushes of you both breathing. Sleep starts to cloud the edges of your mind and you can’t be bothered to do anything that isn’t snuggling closer to Shawn’s warmth. He was like a walking blanket and campfire rolled into one, but with abs. The perfect sleeping companion. The last thing you heard him say before sleep took over was:

“I just want you to feel safe here. It’s all I want...you deserve to be taken care of.”

***

The next week is completely focused on work and getting settled into your new home. The morning after you and Shawn put the bed together, he had run off quick, fast, and in a hurry apparently late for some meeting. It didn’t offend you in anyway, although it was a little weird. You spent the day deep conditioning and doing laundry. Shawn didn’t text, so you didn’t either. It seemed as if things sort of hit a standstill.

Apparently Shawn still visited the clinic every morning to drop off breakfast and speak with Dr. Savage. Monday morning you missed him because Dr. Savage had asked you to take the bills to the post office. You came back to a breakfast sandwich and your white mocha with a note that said good morning honey. It seemed like a pattern was forming. But then, when you texted him thank you the response wasn’t anything more than a simple, “you’re welcome”. You were thoroughly convinced that it was something you said that night. And if you had to guess? It was definitely talking about race. You never censored yourself when it came to shit like that, cause if the guy you were hooking up with couldn’t handle it, you weren’t fucking interested.

By the time Wednesday rolled around you had told yourself that it didn’t matter. Just because you weren’t going to date didn’t mean you couldn’t play the field a little bit. And perhaps getting Shawn off your mind was exactly what you needed.

There was a bar in the heart of town that everyone seemed to go to. You thought maybe you could go out, drink a little, maybe make a friend or two. After work, when the sun had gone down, and all of your work for the day was done, you put on a pretty outfit of a long flowy skirt and an army green tank. You’d swept your hair up into a high bun and tied it with a pretty scarf to match.

Sally’s pub had obviously been there for years and years, but there was a clear attempt to keep it updated and modern, which worked lovely. There was a huge bar in the center that wrapped around the back of the building with an open floor for dancing, pool tables, and general hangout space. For a Wednesday night, the bar was pretty packed leading you to wondering if this was the place everyone went for fun.

You took a seat at the bar, ordered yourself a long island, and sat around to people watch. The good news was your bartender was pretty talkative and willing to take pity on you for the evening.

“Haven’t seen you around here before.” He said placing your glass in front of you. “I’m Cal.”

You grinned. “I’m new in town!”

“I wish I had a really funny joke to tie in John Mulaney, but alas I’m just a shitty bartender.”

He was the tall and burley type with copper like skin, but his shoulders and biceps were massive and his arms leaning on the counter took up a ridiculous amount of space. You took a deep sip of your long island and send him a smile.

“Well I don’t know about that, I’d say you’re at least a mediocre bartender!”

“Oh why thank you! That’s so sweet of you to say!” He chuckled. “Well since you’re new in town, I guess I can help fill you in on all the town gossip.”

“That’s awfully nice of you.”

He tells you about the different groups that are seated around the bar. There was a group of women that were the moms of town who tended to get a little more wasted than their husbands might like. There was the group of barely 21 year olds who tended to get a little rowdy sometimes, but were generally harmless. And then in the back of the bar by the pool table was the only group you didn’t want to see that night.

“That’s the town pack. They make sure everyone’s safe and what not.”

You saw the redhead first. Only because he was trying to smooth talk some girl who was watching one of the other guy’s play pool. Then there were all of the other guys from the furniture store strung about the booths drinking beer and joking around with each other. Shawn, for whatever reason, was nowhere to be found. Not that you cared. Cause you definitely didn’t care.

“Make sure everyone’s safe?” You asked, eyes still on the group. “What do you mean?”

“Well it uh It used to Manny’s but, when he passed Shawn took it over. He’s always been an alpha, but having to take over younger than expected was a lot for him. He mentored all the rest of them when they turned, even though he was going through it ten times worse himself. Brian and Geoff are the betas. Matt, Zubin, and Sterling are all omegas. There are female betas and omegas too but they tend not to hang at the bar, just because the guys’ shenanigans typically bore them. It’s the largest pack for quite a ways away though, so they make sure nothing bad happens.”

You paused and took a look back down at your long island. You’d drinken about half of it, but surely you weren’t that much of a lightweight.

“I’m sorry? I think I’m not hearing you right.”

He simply raised an eyebrow and laughed at you.

“No one’s told you yet, huh?”

“Told me what?”

“Sweetheart, this is a werewolf town.”

It was actually the most ridiculous thing you’d ever heard in your life. You kept looking around for someone to pop out and tell you it was a joke, and yet no one came. He really expected you to believe that you’d somehow stumbled into some straight twilight shit.

You chuckled. “Okay sir. Sure.”

You brought your long island back to your lips to take a deep sip. As you were setting the glass down the door to bar opened and the whole crowd cheered exceptionally. Your bartender peered over towards the door and grinned down at you.

“And our alpha arrives.”

He practically glided along the floor shaking hands and clapping people on the back. Everyone knew him and everyone seemed to love him. And he smiled and spoke to them with all the grace of a natural born leader. It sure was nice to know that he could be nice and respond to someone. He was wearing a black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and he looked absolutely delectable. It accomplished nothing but pissing you off.

“Can I get another one of these?” You mumbled knocking back the rest of your drink quickly and moving the glass back towards him.

He peered at you curiously before reaching for a larger glass.

“How about I make you something special to take the edge off?”

You nodded. “Yes. Absolutely. Sounds great.”

The bastard doesn’t even recognize you the whole time he’s making his rounds despite being the only black person in the bar. You make a mental note to down the whole drink and go the fuck home. If he was such a fancy hotshot why did you seem to see him literally everywhere?!

As Cal was making your drink though, Shawn finally made his way to the bar in search of a drink of his own.

“Hey Cal! How’s your mom doing?” He asked leaning on the edge of the bar in a way that made his arms bulge.

Ugh.

“Hey Shawn. She’s doing a lot better, her heart isn’t causing her as much trouble. She can actually walk around on her own now.” Cal smiled. “Let me finish up this drink here and I’ll get your IPA.”

“Hey thanks! Sounds good.”

Shawn was the on the opposite side of the bar, but the second Cal went to place your drink in front of you, his eyes went straight to you.

“This is what the mom’s usually order.” He explained as you took a sip of the bright pink concoction. “There’s some tequila, rum, rose, and cranberry juice. Enjoy responsibly and all that jazz.”

“Is this gonna land me on my ass?” You asked.

He simply smiled at you. “Only if you can’t handle your liquor.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying...drink up, sweetheart.”

You giggled a little and took another pull of the truly strong but delicious drink only to look up and see that Shawn’s eyes were still on you and now Cal.

You kept your eyes on your drink, but it was useless. The second he had his beer he was headed straight for you.

“Hi!” He cheered quickly popping a squat right next to you instead of going to his friends. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

You rolled your eyes into your drink but threw him a tight lipped smile regardless.

“Yea, trying to make some new friends, I guess.”

He peered over at Cal who making a drink for someone else.

“I see that. You uh...you haven’t been at the clinic any of the times I’ve come in this week.”

“Well, I’ve been busy getting things prepared for Dr. Savage to retire so…”

“Oh. No, yea that makes sense. I just, you now, after that night you weren’t at the clinic on Monday morning. And then you didn’t text.”

“Neither did you.” You snorted.

Shawn took a pause then peering at you a little closer. You kept your eyes on your drink refusing to make eye contact. Subtlety wasn’t exactly your strong suit.

“Are you--Are you angry with me?” He asked.

You sniffed and shrugged, your shoulder so cold that the whole bar seemed to drop a few degrees.

“Look it’s no big deal alright? Whatever I thought was happening clearly isn’t happening. I’m a big girl I’ll get over it. I’m just not really interested in putting myself in a position to be toyed with.”

The whole time you had both been sitting facing the bar, knees tucked under the counter, but at your speech he turned so that his knees were facing you and turned your bar stool--way too easily one might say--so that yours faced his.

“What are you talking about? What have I done? Talk to me.”

His eyes were warm and inviting again, his jaw clenched just tightly enough to make it even more prominent. He wasn’t technically trying to invade your space, but he was so tall on the tiny bar stool that he kind of did anyway.

“You didn’t do anything. You practically sprinted out of my house the next morning and then radio silence? No text, no call, nothing. Like I said, it’s not a huge deal. I guess I just thought you were more interested than you are. That’s on me. I shouldn’t have shared so much of myself.”

You kept your eyes on your drink as you took one too many sips in the last five minutes. You were hoping he might get the hint and just get up and leave, because you were far more hurt than you’d let on. That night had meant a lot to you. You hadn’t felt so comfortable around anyone like that before. Shawn wasn’t just easy to talk to; he made you feel safe. He made you feel like anything that came out of your mouth was worthy of being listened to. You had almost thought that maybe all your worries about the move had been silly. He was the first person to really listen.

His hand on your knee brings you out of your thoughts and when you look up his eyes have turned more honey than brown once again.

“You think that I don’t like you? That I was leading you on?” He sputtered. “Y/n I’m crazy about you.”

“What?”

“I--I really did have to go that morning. I had a meeting with the guys, and I didn’t anticipate staying over so I had to rush because I overslept. I was going to text you, but a lot of shit has been going on lately. So, I thought I’d see you at the clinic that next morning! I brought your favorite breakfast and everything, but you weren’t there. I left a note, and I sort of thought you’d text me or something to hang out again but when all you said was thank you, I guess I got a little insecure. I just...I’ve been trying not to fuck this up because I think I like you more than you could even understand right now.” He sighed. “It looks like maybe I did just that though.”

“Wait, so you’re not like...intimidated because of the whole race thing?”

He shook his head. “Of course not. I couldn’t be more serious right now. I completely understood where you were coming from that night. I mean as much as I can as a white guy. That could never run me off. I promise you.”

You peered over at him trying to measure the level of bullshit he might be feeding you. The problem was his eyes were so soft and his face was so sincere. Even if you wanted to be mad at him, it felt like fighting something instinctual. It felt like something internal was telling you not to be mad at him. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

“Okay.” You sighed. “I believe you.”

“Good. Can we maybe start over? I’ve been meaning to ask you out on a proper date. We can just talk, get to know each other.”

“Sure uh..when did you have in mind?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Is now too soon?”

You snorted. “What about your friends over there? Haven’t they been waiting on you?”

Shawn peered over his shoulder at the group of guys up in the corner, but quickly shook his head.

“They’ll be fine. What do you say? Can I take you to dinner?”

His eyes were hopeful, a glint in them that was pulling you in deeper and deeper. How dare he.

“Fine. It’s probably for the best, I was starting to get a bit tipsy with this drink.”

He took your hand and led you away from the bar, a room full of eyes locked in on both of you. You got the feeling that walking around with Shawn was bound to come with attention whether you liked it or not.

You go to one of the diners in town, the meal completely irrelevant to the company. It is exactly as it was when he was at your apartment. He makes you laugh and he asks you questions about your life, your friends, your past relationships, the things that make you happy. You talk about your favorite books and his favorite books. You learn that he loves music and plays guitar. He told you of his first kiss at the eighth grade dance in middle school with Julia Potterman and how their braces clashed together. You told him of Andrew Jackson who grabbed your boob at your first dance because his older brothers told him to. You laugh and you laugh until the diner is ready to close.

“Can I walk you home?” He asked when the bill had been paid.

You nodded softly. “Of course.”

He takes your hand in his, fingers intertwined, and leads the way back to your house. You feel like you’re just floating along with his fingers keeping you tethered to the earth. It’s incredibly soft and sappy but you just can’t help it. When you get to the door, you don’t want him to go. And that’s when you know you’re in deep.

“I’d uh I’d invite you in, but I have work in the morning.” You murmured stepping up onto the front steps.

He smiled. “It’s okay. I understand. Maybe I could stop by at the clinic around lunch time. You know just in case you’re hungry and don’t want to eat alone.”

“Ah. You know I do hate eating alone.” You chuckled.

“Yea? Me too.”

You bite your lip and watch the way the street light catches his cheekbone perfectly. He tugs his curls back into place and it brings attention to both his face and his arms. He knew exactly what the hell he was doing. When he takes a step onto the first step, just one below the one you’re standing on, he’s suddenly leaning over you with those eyes of his and those fucking arms. You peer up at him and maybe you bat your eyelashes a little bit who’s keeping track. He leans down and skims his nose against yours, fingers trailing teasingly along your hips.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?” He whispered, voice husky.

“Mhm.”

Kissing him is heaven. It is ridiculous, the way he feels. His hands on your hip, and cupping your jaw cause sparks to shoot across your skin. And you only want to be closer, need to feel him more. Your arms thread around his neck, lipps molding perfectly to his. He has the audacity to bite playfully at your bottom lip causing you to gasp, lips parting just enough for his tongue to slide between. Your heart thuds unevenly in your chest. Who gave him the right to kiss like this?

His fingers bunched up in your skirt and before you knew it you were flying through the air as he lifted you like a piece of paper. You didn’t like to think of yourself as light. You had hips and thighs and an ass and none of these things came without the consequence of some lbs. If you hadn’t drooled at the prospect of him leaning like a greek god against your door way, him wrapping your thighs around his waist like you were a rag doll would certainly do it. Jesus.

Your back hits the front door and he’s not letting up, keeps dominating your mouth in a way no one else ever has before. You can feel your skirt riding up, can feel his hips pinning you to the hard wood of the door, and it’s simply too much for you to bare. You pull away with a gasp, and he honest to god growls against your neck. It causes a twitch in your stomach that cannot be started if it won’t be finished.

“God, your lips are incredible.” He whined breathing just as uneven as yours. “Wow.”

“That was...yea.”

You barely make it back into your home alive. Even getting out of his arms and to the door means nothing when he’s still pressing chaste kisses against your neck. He leaves you with his famous good night, honey before skipping off and leaving you to collapse just inside the door. Wow.

***

“So Mrs. Stenson will be in around three today. She’s been having knee troubles for a few years. It may be time for another cortisone shot.”

“Mhm.”

“And, if you could check her mobility as well as that would be wonderful.”

“Of course.”

“And if you wouldn’t mind kicking me in the face that would be great too.”

“Not a problem.”

“Y/n you are not even listening!”

You peered up from checking the door for the umpeetenth time in the past fifteen minutes to Dr. Savage staring at you like a crazy person. Woops.

“Sorry. So sorry. Mobility and cortisone for Stenson. I’ve got you!”

He raised an eyebrow and stared at you for a moment, making your cheeks feel warmer as a result.

“What is up with you?”

“N--Nothing!”

And just like that the bell over the door dinged as your lunch date and general mind fuck of the month walked in.

He wore a navy blue button up and black ray bans which was a stark departure from his usual t-shirts at the bakery. You found him even hotter than normal.

“Hi.” You murmured voice way too light and high for your liking.

He beamed back at you. “Hi.”

You were just sort of standing there smiling at each other like idiots when Dr. Savage figured he’d had enough of whatever was taking place in front of him.

“Shawn, may I have a word, please?” He asked.

Shawn nodded not even bothering to take his eyes off you. “I’ll be right back and then we’ll go okay?”

“Okay.”

You set your notes back at your desk, putting away all of the files that were still out from the morning. Then you spent some time in the mirror trying to make sure that you looked good enough for your lunch date. You wore a yellow sundress and play aimlessly with the straps that criss and crossed along your back. Eventually you went snooping wondering exactly what they were talking about.

“How much longer are you going to let this go on?!”

“I don’t know, alright? I just need to make sure. I need to know that it’s real! I don’t want to ruin her life, if it’s not real.”

“It’s not about any one life, Shawn; you know that. Your father taught you that all decisions need to be for the good of the town!”

“Don’t fucking tell me anything about my dad!” He yelled.

A few moments later the door bursts open and Shawn looks flustered and angry. It’s a new look for him, and it’s not one you enjoy seeing on him. Your heart ached to see him in a state of anything but happiness. And you couldn’t explain it, couldn’t make it make sense. You just needed for him to be okay.

When he sees you he makes quick work of taking your hand in his and leading you out of the clinic. You intertwined your fingers with his and leaned your head against his shoulder. By the time you had rounded the corner, he was already more calm than he had been when you found him.

“I’m sorry about losing my temper. I am usually in much better control I just...sometimes Dr. Savage likes to use his relationship with my dad against me to get me to do things I don’t want to do. It’s a sore subject.”

You nodded up at him giving his arm a squeeze.

“Well maybe you can tell me about him sometime. When you’re ready. If you’re ready.”

He peered down at you, eyes completely returning to their softest form. Your heart similarly turned to goo.

“How do you do that?” He sighed.

“Do what?”

“Make everything better.”

You just shrugged. “I don’t know. Just like you when you’re happy.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead. The audacity.

And so became the norm. Every morning Shawn came for his meeting with Dr. Savage to talk about townsfolk stuff, and he always brought you breakfast. Usually he stuck around long enough to make you giggle like a school girl unless you were real busy with work. At lunch time you went together to the diner, or went and ate packed lunches in the park if the weather was good enough. Dinner times were a hit or missed only because Shawn tended to get busy with whatever the hell he did at night, but he always stopped by when he could. And when he did, dinner usually got long forgotten when he pulled you to the couch to kiss for what felt like hours. Whatever it was, you were in it together.

***

A boy comes in. He’s fifteen, maybe sixteen at the oldest, and he’s absolutely sweating buckets with apparently muscle pains from hell. You take his temperature and it’s a hundred and four degrees. You’re ready to get him into an ice bath until Dr. Savage comes into the room. He gives him a glance over and isn’t nearly as concerned as you are.

“How long has the fever set in?” He asked.

Eric winced on the table. “Since yesterday.”

Dr. Savage nodded and grabbed his pad of paper to write something down.

“Eric, listen to me. You need to go home and get some rest. This fever will break in a day or two. When that happens you’re going to want to call this number, okay? You’re going to have a lot of questions, and this is the person who can answer them. It’s going to be alright, son.”

As Dr. Savage was walking around the room to grab the paperwork you couldn't help but notice that the phone number written down on the sheet of paper looked oddly familiar. The problem was it was 2019 and who the hell had time to memorize phone numbers? But, you could have sworn you had seen it before somewhere.

When Dr. Savage came back and the boy had left, you refused to stay silent.

“Doctor...why would you send that boy home without even a prescription for ibuprofen? He had a serious fever.”

“We see that in our boys here at his age all the time. It’s just the sign of his changing. He knew it too, that’s why he came here. I do greatly appreciate your concern, but I assure you he’ll be fine.”

“His changing? Doctor are you trying to convince me that his fever is due to puberty?”

“You’ll understand in due time. I promise.”

It was so incredibly weird. You didn’t know what to make of any of it. Who the mysterious number was. Why Dr. Savage seemed to be keeping you in the dark. What the hell any of what he said actually meant. Whatever it was, he certainly wasn’t going to give you any answers. You made a deal with yourself that you’d reach out to Eric yourself after seventy-two hours. But, it wasn’t even a full two days later that you saw him, at Shawn’s shop no less while you were grabbing breakfast for you and Dr. Savage. He seemed absolutely fine. He was cleaning dishes from the tables and taking them back to the kitchen area. The fever had completely broken. It was strangest thing in the world, although somehow not strange enough to confront anyone over. It just become one of those things you thought about at night. Nothing more, nothing less. When a few more of the town’s boys came in with similar symptoms the exact same thing happened. One second they were in agony and the next they were fine. You had no clue of what to make of it.

***

He texted you on a Saturday to put on your rain boots because he was taking you for an adventure. You had to tell him that you weren’t interested in any white nonsense, before he was able to convince you to go with, “i promise to keep the white nonsense to a minimum, honey”. Your kind of man.

“Where are we going?” You asked as he waved your intertwined hands back and forth in the space between you.

He smiled. “I’m taking you to my happy place.”

His happy place was the farmer’s market in the city outside of town limits. The rain was a fine mist that day and Shawn wasn’t even wearing a jacket. His body just seemed to radiate heat unlike anything you’d ever seen before. You found it difficult to complain when he wrapped his arm around you beneath the umbrella you were sporting.

The people there knew him by name. He took you to all his favorite little booths which were mostly the fruits.

“I like trying to find new ways to make different baked goods for the shop. My dad used to bring me here as a kid and every recipe I’ve ever made comes from here.” He explained.

You watched him move around, towering over everyone he came in contact with. The large apples, grape fruits, oranges etc. all looked miniature in his hands. But when he was holding a strawberry to your lips and looking at you with nothing but joy while you ate, he couldn’t have seemed softer to you. He was kind of perfect.

“So...What do you want to eat? Pick anything.” He said arm waving out over the sea of people selling their own produce and other foods.

“What do you mean?”

“I figured we could come here, buy some ingredients, and I could cook for you. Or, we could cook together. Whatever you want.”

Wow.

“Where in the hell did you come from?” You sighed wrapping your arms around his waist in content.

He leaned to kiss you and smiled softly.

“Didn't you hear? I was made for you.”

***

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” He asked head nestled softly against your stomach as you lied in bed.

“Tomorrow is deep condition day.”

“Deep condition day?”

He lifted his himself up so that he was half on top of you, eyes as honey brown as could be. Damn you were so soft on him already. Just looking at him made you smile.

“It’s gonna take all day?” He frowned.

You giggled. “Yes, baby it takes all day. This here is a project. That’s why we don’t let you random white folk put your dry ass hands in it.”

He seemed to take that and ponder it for a second. Shawn had already grown used to your satin caps and satin pillows and tied scarves. He took it all in stride, was just as willing to ask questions and to understand as he was to just let you be yourself. It meant all the world to you.

“Hmmm...well can this random white folk hang out with you while you do it? I promise to keep my dry ass hands to myself.” He grinned.

“Hey now… I never said you had to keep your hand to yourself, just keep them out of my hair.”

“Ahhh. So, can I put my hands...here?” He murmured letting his fingers meld to the curve of your jaw.

“Yes.” You hummed.

“And can I put my hands...here?” He asked letting his hands run down to the curve of your hips.

“Uh huh.”

“And can I…” He whispered face leaning closer and closer towards yours.

You never let him finish before sliding your lips together.

Sure enough, the next day, instead of leaving only after having prepared you an adorable breakfast, Shawn followed you to the bathroom. His long legs stretched out against the length of the bathroom watching as you let the cold water seep deep into your curls before the host of products began to enter. He watched you condition, comb, and dentangle every strand before applying the deep conditioner that would sit for the vast majority of the day.

When the conditioner was in, and you’d covered your plastic bag egg head with a cap, you spend the entire day watching netflix crime documentaries and making out on the couch. It was the best deep condition day you’d had in months.

He let you lie on his chest and he traced shapes into your back underneath your t-shirt. He told you how good your hair smelled and sometimes when a drop of water would run down your neck he would chase it away with his thumb. It never ceased to make your body run hot.

When you finally went to rinse, Shawn ordered dinner for the two of you. You sat on the couch in one of his t-shirts, and slowly detangled and two-strand twisted your hair. By the time dinner arrived, you felt soft and warm and kind of obsessed with him. You couldn’t even think about food. You just wanted to be near him, just wanted to touch him.

“Thank you for spending today with me.” You murmured. “Not a lot of men want to sit around all day just watching a girl deep condition.”

He smiled at you. “I just want to be with you, y/n. Doesn’t matter to me what we do.”

“Yea?”

“Yea.”

You rolled your eyes and snuggled deeper into his arms.

“Where is the hell did you come from?” You whispered not sure who you were asking in all honesty.

“I was right here waiting for you. What took you so long?” He murmured.

Wow.

***

You had started to learn about each other’s bodies. His lips mapped whole stories across your body, made your breathing uneven and your thighs tighten. He never took it further than that, but he did let you rile him up. And riling him up turned into your favorite pastime. When your teeth would graze his earlobe and that growl would rumble in his chest, fingers tightening on your body in the most delicious of ways, it would send you to this ultimate buildup of a moment only for him to suddenly decide that he needed to go. At first it was fine, but the more he kept building you up and leaving you hot and cold, the more you began to get a little bit frustrated.

It was a Saturday night, and Shawn was going to spend the night, so you had taken full advantage of straddling him on the couch. You’d been hoping on pushing the envelope a little more, but the second your fingers edged underneath his shirt, his hands came to wrap around your wrists.

“Babe.” He whined eyes closing. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

You wiggled your hips slightly above where he was poking your ass through your shorts.

“I think I get the hint.” You chuckled. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He hummed thumbs rubbing softly along your hips.

“Well it’s just that...I think you’re attracted to me.”

He smirked, eyes running up and down your body.

“Yea.”

“And I’m attracted to you. And I don’t want to be too forward, if you have like a policy or something. Cause like if you do, that’s totally fine! I mean your body, your rules. You deserve autonomy ya know?”

“Baby?” He murmured squeezing you playfully. “You’re rambling.”

“Ah yes . . . Why aren’t we--do you like not want to?” You huffed and took a deep breath. “We haven’t had sex yet.”

“Oh.”

You winced. “Well it--it’s not a huge deal. It’s just been almost two months. And while it has been a wonderfully refreshing to not have someone trying to get into my pants on the first date...I guess I’m kind of trying to get into yours now.”

He stared at you with conflicted eyes like he sometimes did. There was something brewing under the surface, you just didn’t know what. The more you were around Shawn though, the more you became able to read him. Sometimes you got more out of what he didn’t say than what he did.

“I uh... I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you...maybe you’re not attracted me to in that way?”

His eyes widened. “Not even remotely. Trust me. I want to.”

You stared at him in complete and utter confusion. You were trying to understand and take his word for it, but none of this was matching up. Things with Shawn rarely did.

“You know sometimes you say things to me that don’t add up, and just expect me to believe them? It’s getting harder and harder to do that.”

You climbed off of his lap needing a little distance between the two of you. It wasn’t the thought of him not wanting to. If he genuinely had a reason that is. Sometimes it just felt like Shawn was flirting with the line of lying to you, as if he was purposely keeping important details for himself. You hated it. It drove you up a wall.

“Hey...I’m just--I’m trying not to hurt you y/n.”

You rolled your eyes. “Boy please. What exactly do you think you’ve got in your pants that is going to hurt me? Try again.”

“You don’t understand!”

“Then make me understand, Shawn! The coded riddles and town secrets shit is getting old.”

“I--I can’t. It’s not time yet.”

“See that is exactly the shit I’m talking about. Time for what? Why are you always acting so shady?”

He groaned and crossed the room reaching for your hands to pull you close. His forehead pressed against yours, and he smelled so incredibly good. You couldn’t deny that there was something drawing you to him, that there was a part of you that wanted him in ways that you yet to understand. But, you hadn’t gotten through life thus far letting people mistake your kindness and your heart for naivety and you certainly weren’t about to start now.

“Please just...give me some time.” He whispered against your lips. “I don’t want to rush this.”

“Fine. Take all the time you need. But, I can’t sit here and be lied to and played with while the whole fucking town seems to be in on the joke.”

“Y/n that’s not--”

“I think you should go.” You cut him off pulling your hands away. “I want you to go.”

He stared at you with hurt in his eyes and you had to stave off the instinct of reaching out and making it all better for him. You had to decide that you deserved before all else. It was the only way you’d been able to survive thus far.

***

Shawn: What are you doing tonight?

y/n: Minding my business.

Shawn: I want you to come over tonight. To my place. I’m gonna tell you the truth.

Shawn: I miss you

You paused peering down at your phone. It had been over a week since you’d asked Shawn to leave your apartment. It hadn’t exactly been radio silence, since he’d been trying to get in contact with all week, but you weren’t really interested in the half assed excuses anymore. You had planned to wait until he was ready to tell you the truth. You just weren’t prepared for him to cave that quickly.

y/n: no more bullshit?

Shawn: no more bullshit. Please come.

He sent you the address and another plea to show up. You weren’t quite sure what was leaning you towards going. There wasn’t exactly anything that pointed towards him suddenly being honest with you. The problem was you were kind of falling for this asshole, and so wanting to be realistic and wanting to be with him weren’t lining up.

The house you pulled up to was far larger than anything you’d seen in the town thus far. It was nestled in the woods, all dark mahogany walls and big wide windows. It was big even by your standards, let alone for small town baker. You parked the car and headed for the front door where he seemed to be already waiting for you. He opened it and you could feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves. There was almost a sadness about him to. A sadness that had you stepping far closer to him than you should have.

“What’s wrong?”

He shook his head softly. “Nothing yet. Come in.”

He led you straight to a kitchen that was wide and vast just like everything about this place. You made a note to ask him about that later. Also, in the kitchen were the two guys from the bar: Brian and Geoff. Suddenly it was three on one and the atmosphere in the room had you stopping in your tracks.

“What’s going on?” You asked refusing to take another step forward.

“This is Brian and Geoff. They’re just here to make sure everything goes okay.”

“That sounds like exactly what the killer says in the movie where my black ass gets the ax.”

Shawn sighed and stepped closer to you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how intimidating this might be. I’m just trying to make this go as smoothly as possible. No one is going to hurt you okay? I promise you.” He murmured feverently. “Trust me.”

“Christ, Shawn. Just tell me what you were going to tell me.”

He nodded and paced quickly around the kitchen before settling in front of you once again.

“Remember those cases you started having with the teen aged boys who were breaking out into sweats and muscle pains?”

“Yea. Dr. Savage said it was just them changing or something.”

“Exactly! And remember how he told you that I was the town leader and how I had to step up after my dad died?”

You nodded. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with it, y/n. Everything! I’m--I’m not just some town leader okay? People don’t just say hi to me when we’re walking around town because of who I am, but because of what I am.”

“Well what are you?” You asked, more confused than ever.

“I’m . . .I’m a wolf. My dad used to be the leader of this town, and my family is a long lineage of alphas. I’m not a town leader, I’m a pack leader.”

Time seems to hit a standstill as you stare at him. There’s a whole lot of emotions that flicker through you in rapid cession. Shock. Confusion. Acceptance. Anger.

“And that is my cue to leave.” You snorted turning for the door.

“Y/n I am telling you the truth!”

You turned on him rage coiling deep in your stomach.

“Did you put Cal up to this too? What the hell is the matter with you Shawn?! I mean why, why are you playing with me like this?”

“I can prove it!”

“Excuse me?”

“I can prove to you, that I’m a wolf.”

You simply did not have the time or the patience to continued to be toyed with. Shawn wasn’t taking no for an answer and proceeded to tug his shirt over his head.

“Okay what in the Black baby Jesus are you doing?!” You groaned as he began to work on his belt.

“I like this outfit. I don’t want it to get ruined.”

You peered over at his friends who were now just peering over in amusement.

“Are you aware that your friend is crazy?”

“Why yes, we absolutely are.” Brian snorted. “But jackass is actually telling the truth.”

“Turn around. It’s not actually all the pretty.” Shawn mumbled as he got rid of his jeans.

“Which part, you turning into a big dog, or you taking your underwear off?”

Geoff laughed. “Wait, I like her. Where have you been hiding her at?”

“Not now, assholes! Will you please, please just turn around?”

Your rolled your eyes as far back into your head as humanly possible before turning your back to the man who you’d thought you were falling in love with, but who was turning out to be almost certainly off his fucking rocker. You were about to start throwing out more snarky comments when the most horrendous sounds began to occur. It gave you the more visceral reminder of the time you had broken your arm by falling off your bike, the bone scraping so graphically against the concrete that your stomach lurched just thinking about it. But this was somehow worse. This sounded like bone scraping against bone, joints popping in and out. You wanted to turn, but something inside of you kept you frozen exactly where you stood.

The next thing that you registered was something pushing gently against your back. And when you turned, oh so hesitant, sure enough behind you was a fucking wolf. A huge, up to your chest, head the size of your body, fucking wolf. You still couldn’t believe it. You blinked over and over again willing for it to change. Everything in your life had been so straight and narrow for so long. Elementary school. Middle school. High School. College. Med school. Simple cause and effect. Every illness had a response, had something that you could offer it. Logic had always been your MO. But this. What the hell was this?

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” You whispered.

The wolf nudged its head against your stomach and wined paw reaching up to slap at your waist. He nearly knocked you over. You let your fingers slide through his fur, hair incredibly thick and lucious. When he leaned up on his legs you could see his eyes and that was what got you. Even in his wolf state, those eyes were unmistakably Shawn. They were warm and brown, the shade of honey much brighter. It was him though. That was your Shawn.

“Holy shit.” You gasped. “It’s really fucking you, isn’t it?”

He barked and nuzzled his head deeper into your arms.

Holy fucking shit.

Suddenly he was out of your arms and stepping back around to the other side of the kitchen. He barked at Brian and Geoff who easily translated.

“He’s gonna change back now. He wants you to wait for him in the living room, if you’re not too afraid.”

You weren’t sure that you would’ve made it to your car if you wanted to. You felt like your legs might give out any moment. It was a struggle even to make it to the couch. The whole time, you were trying to rationalize what your eyes had just seen, and trying to figure out how to make the puzzles pieces to fit together. There was a fear that maybe there was no logic to be had in this scenario. Perhaps the most logical answer, was the one that made the least sense in your head.

Shawn stepped into the room a few minutes later in nothing but a pair of sweats. Geoff and Brian were nowhere to be seen anymore, but that didn’t stop him from taking slow and deliberate steps towards you with his hands raised.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked.

You stared at him trying to reconcile how his large body could be even bigger, and furrier to boot. It just was unbelievable.

“I...I don’t know.” You mumbled. “I don’t know about anything anymore.”

He sat on the couch, keeping an entire cushions distance from you.

“The reason that I had Brian and Geoff there was because...I don’t want you to be afraid. I guess in hindsight I didn’t think about how three random white guys might be all the more intimidating. I--I wanted you to feel safe. And I wanted them to be in their human forms just in case. I’m so sorry y/n. I wanted to do this all differently, but I couldn’t lose you. I’ve been trying to fight my instincts to satisfy, to do whatever you need for days, and it’s been killing me. I needed to do whatever would make you happy.”

“Holy shit, this is really happening, isn’t it?” You chuckled humorlessly letting your face fall into your hands.

“It is. But uh...you’ve got some choices to make so unfortunately there’s more.”

All you could do was groan.

“How could there possibly be more? If you tell me there are vampires walking around too, I’m having myself admitted.”

“Not exactly.” He chuckled dryly. “You’ve been feeling something since we met right? There’s a--a pull between us. It feels instinctual. Maybe you have a sense for what I’m feeling without me ever having to say it. You uh might feel the need to do whatever would make me happy, even when it’s not within your control.”

You raised an eyebrow but nodded.

“Yea. How did you know?”

“It’s not a coincidence. You and I...We’re mates.”

“We’re what now?”

“Mates. It’s sort of means we were created for each other. Like destiny or fate or whatever. Usually werewolves mate with other werewolves but not always. My mother’s human for example, and she still mated with my dad. You said you felt something pulling you to this town, like it was decided before you even consciously thought it. That was me. That was us.”

He now looked just down right sheepish. This man was essentially telling you that he was a dog and your soulmate all in one night, and has the audacity to try and smile at you while he did it. Your mind felt like it was about ready to explode. You couldn’t even fathom all of the information he was trying to make you take in. four years of med school had nothing on Shawn.

“So what we’re just...meant to be? Like we’re stuck together forever?” You asked.

You knew immediately that he’d been dreading you asking that question by the look of defeat on his face. And just like that the need to fix it came roaring back in your gut. It felt oddly nice to give that feeling a name now.

“N--No. It doesn’t mean that. If you decide that you hate me, or that this isn’t what you want for yourself you don’t have to stay with me. There are some cases of mated pairings not working out. It’s usually pretty terrible but...I would never make you stay if you didn't want to. I love you too much for that.”

Somehow out of all the things that he’d said that night, of all the feelings he’d made you feel, he was still able to shock you.

“Did you just say…?”

He reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers.

“I love you. It’s a bit different for me because I knew we were mates the second we met but...I don’t think being human could have changed anything. You’re just, you’re you. I meant it when I said I was crazy about you. I love every moment we get to spend together. I love your sense of humor, and how you’re probably the smartest person I’ve ever met. I would love to just be with you, if you’ll have me. No secrets. No half truths. No running off anymore. It would be just you and me, forreal this time.”

It felt good to hear. That part was undeniable. But you couldn’t help but feel incredibly overwhelmed by it all. Not just the “i love you”, but the fact that the first time you moved out of your home state you stumbled straight into supernatural shenanigans. When you had asked for Shawn to be honest with you, you figured he was maybe hiding an erectile dysfunction, or even a secret job as a hitman would have been less shocking.

“This is . . . a lot, Shawn. I don’t even know what to say to any of this.” You admitted.

He nodded softly eyes downcast. “Of course. If you want to go home, I understand. And if you don’t want me around anymore, you can just text me or something.”

You didn’t know how to explain not wanting to be alone. You couldn’t reconcile needing the space to think, and yet wanting him to be close by while you did it. It wasn’t fair to you or to him, but you found that now that you knew the truth, your instincts toward him were even harder to fight. You just wanted to be with him.

“Is it weird to not want to be alone right now?” you mumbled.

He reached hesitantly forward, tapping on your chin till your eyes met with his.

“No. Nothing you’re feeling can be weird right now. I just told you I’m a wolf, y/n.”

A chuckle passed your lips and you paused not sure if it was okay to laugh or not.

“It’s okay. You can laugh. I’d rather you laugh.”

“Can I--Can I stay here tonight?”

His eyes widened. “Yea. Yes, of course. You can stay in my room. C’mere.”

He leads you through the house, all wooden floors and wooden walls. There seemed to be a lot of patch ups, from what you weren’t sure, but you even passed the door you’d seen him get at the store all the months ago. It made you curious how violent wolves actually were. It was difficult to imagine Shawn as being anything other than kind and warm. Then again you’d never imagine him to grow four legs either.

“This house is so big.” You noted as he led you up the stairs.

“It’s been in my family for generations. The pack usually lives here. When my dad passed away, my mom couldn’t be here anymore, so I took over and she moved into an apartment.”

“Wait, so they all live here? Where are they?”

He shrugged pulling you into the last room at the end of the hall.

“I had everyone leave but Geoff and Brian. I thought it might be a little intimidating.”

His room was obviously the master bedroom. It was far bigger than yours, with the king size bed to match. There was a guitar in the corner next to the night stand. He had a picture of him, his dad, and his mom on his dresser. There were cookbooks and pastry books galore all on a shelf. It felt like him. It was so obviously him that you somehow felt immediately at home.

Shawn moved to his dresser pulling out one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants. He then walked into his closet and pulled out a pink satin pillowcase before pulling it onto a fresh pillow and lying it next to the clothes.

“Here you go. You can change in the bathroom.”

You eyed the pillow curiously. “What’s that for?”

“Oh,” He scratched nervously at back of his neck. “Well I just remembered that you had one at your house. You said it was for your hair, right? So it doesn’t get messed up? I bought one off amazon so if you ever came over you wouldn’t have to worry.”

You stared at him, lips parted, because what in the entire fuck? Your eyes flickered from the pillow and back to him, heart doing another unsteady gurplunk in your chest. He had to be stopped.

“Is that...is that okay? Did I get the right one?”

You nodded. “Yea it...it’s perfect. No one’s ever done that for me before.”

“I just wanted you to feel comfortable here.”

Another layered statement. Another round of intense eye contact. He was sure to be the death of you one way or another.

You changed into the clothes and ran some mouthwash through your cheeks before stepping back into the room. Shawn was just sort of standing there with his hands in his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with himself. In your mind, you wondered how anyone that beautiful and chiseled could be so goofy.

“What now?” You asked.

“Nothing! I just didn’t know if you’d want to sleep alone tonight. You can if you want. I meant what I said about giving you space.”

You looked over at the bed and then at him before shaking your head softly.

“Don’t wanna be alone.”

The sheets are soft and they smell just like Shawn. The satin pillow is kind of perfect and when he turns the light off it’s almost like all the other nights you spent together. You’re almost able to forget that he’s just flipped your entire world upside down. It doesn’t help that you feel better being in a room with him, than you’d felt in a week. It doesn’t help that when he was describing all of the reasons why he might love you, they matched perfectly with how you felt about him.

“I can hear you thinking.” He murmured into the dark.

You gasped. “What?!”

“Not like I can read your mind.” He snorted. “More like, I hear your heart rate increasing. I can feel your body language. Usually it’s the wolf instincts, but I think I’m just attuned to you at this point.”

“Oh...I guess I was wondering, when you didn’t want to have sex with me? You said that you didn’t want to hurt me. I still don’t get what you meant by that.”

He goes quiet for a little while, and you’re sure that you’ve struck a nerve. When he releases a little breath, you find yourself doing the same.

“Well it’s two things. I guess it’s why I started to freak out when you called me town leader?

I didn’t want you to know what I am. I didn’t want you to have to come into my world. I--I knew that you were my mate. I knew that I loved you, but every second you were in the dark you were safe. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Safe? Does that mean that now that I know I’m not safe anymore?”

“No. I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. Not now, not ever. There’s just always a chance when you’re dealing with wolves. We’re protectors. Of the town, of our pack, of our families. That typically means there are things that one might need to be protected from. The closer you are to us the more likely it is to need protection. But I’m alpha for a reason. No one would ever touch you.”

You’d been laying their long enough for your eyes to adjust to the dark. You could see the firm set of his jaw to match the seriousness of his tone. Before you had even consciously made the decision, you were flipping over onto your side and nuzzling into his side. He quickly lifted his arm for you to slide beneath. The warmth he gave put your mind way too at ease.

“Tell me the other part.”

“The other part is...I’m kind of really strong. Inhumanly strong, obviously. And I just want to make sure that when I’m intimate with you that you don’t get hurt. Mated love making is...intense.”

You peered up at his face with raised eyebrows. “What kind of intense?”

“Remember what you thought happened to my bed to make it break? That kind of intense.”

Hmm. Hot.

You hummed. “Well I guess it has been so long since I’ve got laid, I’d welcome you throwing my back out at this point.”

“Not funny.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Me breaking your back? No not in the slightest!”

“Well no one said anything about breaking it Shawn! I simply implied a little soreness and tenderness after a good dicking.” You snorted. “You werewolves. So touchy.”

“Oh my god. I’m in love with an actual dork.”

……

*Ten minutes later*

“I just want to point out that when I said no white nonsense, being a fucking werewolf was automatically on that list”

“Sweetheart, go to sleep.” He hushed.

“Yea, okay.”

****

*six months later*

“Babe have you seen my lucky head scarf! I’m gonna be late!”

“Did you check your hair drawer?!”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes! Coincidentally that was the first place I looked!”

“Well stop being sarcastic to me and just come downstairs!”

It was your first date completely running the clinic by yourself. Dr. savage had been slowly edging himself out over the past few months, but not without letting you in on the town secrets. Little did you know that being able to accept Shawn as a werewolf meant having to take care of all the werewolves. The clinic would be their safe haven if anyone got too hurt to heal, which apparently shouldn’t happen often because they healed super fast. A learning curve did not begin to describe all the shit you had been over in the last few months.

In the end it had been way too easy of a decision. You had woken up the next morning in Shawn’s arms and he had just stared at you with hopeful puppy dog eyes--which definitely held a new meaning now. You couldn’t leave. You didn’t want to. It had taken a while for you to get used to it all. He was incredibly gentle and understanding with you. And thus there you were...wrapped up in continuous white nonsense. Because love. Or whatever.

“Shawn,” You whined thumping down the stairs. “I really do need my scarf, babe. My edges are rough.”

You headed straight for the kitchen only to see your boyfriend standing there with a cinnamon roll the size of your head with a candle sticking out of it in his hands, smile big and wide on his face. It had turned out to be your favorite after all

“Happy First Day!” He cheered.

Usually the kitchen was crawling with people in the morning, everyone trying to get their breakfasts in before going off to their respective days. This morning it was absolutely bare besides the two of them. You had gone on to notice over your months dating Shawn that when he wanted to be alone with you, he was going to be, and anyone else around wasn’t even an option. Again. Hot.

“What are you doin’?” You murmured playfully stepping up to claim your prize.

And it wasn’t the cinnamon roll. You had him put the plate down and quickly wrapped your arms around his waist. He took your cheeks in his hands, warm as always, and pressed a kiss to your lips that left you a little breathless.

“I wanted to celebrate my baby being the badass doctor in town.”

You giggled. “When you said you were letting the other guys open the bakery today, this was not what I was expecting.”

“You didn’t think I’d make you your favorite breakfast? I’ve been bringing you breakfast for almost a year now.” He chuckled.

“Hmm...it’s been a good year.”

“I would have to agree. I have your scarf. What do you say I drive you to work today before I head to the bakery. And after your first full day, I want to take you out just the two of us.”

Your eyes widened. “Really? No one else?”

“No one else. Just you and me. I’ve got a lot of plans for you today.”

“Oh really? What kind of plans you talkin’ bout sir?”

“The throw out your back kind of plans.”

“Well those just happen to be my favorite kind...C’mere.”

The End.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fluff #Shawn mendes fic #Shawn mendes fanfic #Shawn mendes fanfiction #Shawn mendes x you #Shawn mendes x y/n #Shawn mendes x black reader #shawn mendes au #Shawn mendes angst #Shawn mendes oneshot #Shawn mendes series #Shawn mendes blurb #wolf au #wolf! shawn

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thelawyerthatwaspromised · 5 years

Text

We Really Need to Talk About the Forehead Kiss Scene

Consider this another iteration of the Sansa and Jon “Would that be so terrible?” scene that I covered a little while back.

For a lot of people that believe that Jonsa will happen, the scene on the battlements in “The Winds of Winter”, the finale episode of the sixth season of Game of Thrones, is the starting point of that belief.

It’s unusually sweet, as Jon and Sansa scenes tend to be. It’s almost semi-unnecessary to the plot. It’s the last we see of Jon before it’s revealed that he is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, making this decidedly un-sibling like interaction with Sansa a bit less suspicious except upon rewatch. (Sidenote, imagine if this scene took place after we learned about R+L=J...)

But a lot of Jonsa skeptics (I’ll call them that though there are obviously varying degrees of this such as “venomous”) seem unable to understand why this particular scene feels so different from just about every single other scene on the show. To me, there are multiple factors that make this particular scene unique from any other on the show.

It’s an almost perfect example of a “romance setup” from multiple angles.

1.) It didn’t really advance the “plot”

For some reason, this scene was included among the 10 most crucial scenes of the series by HBO pre-season 7 buuuuut not a lot happened at face value.

Jon had just banished Melissandre for burning someone alive (inquisitive emoji) and was watching her leave on the battlements. He’s approached by Sansa. She says she’s sorry. He credits her for winning the battle. They say they need to trust each other. They leave. So why is a “recap of events” considered a crucial scene? Why was it on the show at all? Viewers wanted to know what Jon was going to do about Sansa arriving with the KotV and if they were going to have a conflict about it. Except that part took about 5 seconds. And the opposite happened.

Similar to the Littlefinger choke scene in season 7, this didn’t really directly affect the actions of the characters in any way. Even if a scene doesn’t advance “plot”, it’s meant to advance the “story”. What happens here between Jon and Sansa? It revealed something between the two of them that wasn’t revealed simply through the dialogue. It’s inclusion in the show at all should leave you wondering about its purpose, but the added layers of the length, framing, and use of reaction shots should make it fairly obvious that it’s a romantic scene.

2.) Both characters are pleasantly surprised by each other’s tenderness towards the other

I think to really grasp this scene, you have to get inside the heads of each character.

Normally, any surprise in Game of Thrones is a bad thing. The strange quality of the battlements scene is that it’s an inversion of the normal routine. We need to take a step back and evaluate the psychology of Jon and Sansa as they’re entering.

Jon has just banished the person who resurrected him. He’s just won a battle that he knows he should have lost. He’s clearly been quite introspective about Sansa and what she meant and her importance in winning the battle since he’s already preparing her chambers. Somehow, the tent scene is magnified in its intensity because this scene is its exact opposite and it’s where we last left off with Jon and Sansa.

Sansa pleaded with Jon to listen to her.

To be fair to Jon, it’s hard to understand what Sansa is saying but instead of trying to understand her more, he allows them to be dead locked and unable to finish their thoughts.

and it ends with Jon’s sad resignation that he desperately wants to win but he’s not sure if he can.

So this was the last time they spoke privately before the battle. Jon feels guilt for failing to listen. Sansa feels guilt for calling in Littlefinger, an option neither she nor Jon would have wanted.

Then - their relationship suddenly became stronger because of the weakness they revealed to each other. Instead of punishing each other, they forgive each other. Instead of gloating, Sansa reaches out and expresses to Jon that she never wanted it that way. Instead of holding it against Sansa, Jon reaches back and validates her importance in multiple ways.

The most rewarding part is how they each give wonderful gestures to each other in turn without being prompted.

He’s publicly affirmed her place as the Lady of Wintefell...

She objects but only because she thinks he should be seen as the head of the family...

Sansa tells him he should take it. Jon responds with a sad smile and says he’s not a Stark. And then Sansa gives Jon the most gentle but meaningful affirmation that he’s ever gotten on the show...

“You are to me.”

(I decided halfway through this to leave the text off the gifs because I want the focus on the micro expressions of the actors because...damn...)

What else could anyone say to Jon that would mean more to him at this point? His entire life has been marked by his non-Starkness. Sansa is working to undo the biggest source of his sadness without his ever asking for it.

Jon’s gift to Sansa is recognition and it comes in two parts;

1) “You’re the Lady of Winterfell.” He was right there as Lyanna Mormont referred to her as a Lannister and a Bolton. He was right there as Lord Glover looked right into her eyes and told her that House Stark is dead. No. Jon is determined that those statements are to be corrected.

2) “We’re standing here because of you.” He’s not just “gifting” her the position and the lord’s chamber. She’s earned it in his eyes. Her place is meant to be elevated above his at this point. This is before he was crowned as king. He was content for her to be in charge until he was thrust into the position of command.

So what does Sansa do? He’s just basically said “you were right” and she has a chance to respond. Does she gloat? Does she say “well yes I suppose I am the last remaining Stark (that we know of) and so I should rule our house...I also command the loyalty of the Vale”? None of that, she apologizes to him. She’s still expecting his anger and disappointment and feels she deserves it.

And it makes sense. Leave aside that it was absolutely necessary for Sansa to bring in the KotV and ask yourself “when was the last time Sansa was ever actually rewarded or treated gently by someone she thought she wronged?” She’s existed in a constant state of punishment since Littlefinger betrayed Ned in the throne room in season 1. Misery is her expectation. Her expression as Jon approaches confirms this exactly.

Part is her actual guilt, and I’m sure part of it is an expectation based on her experiences...and to her pretty obvious surprise, Jon does the exact opposite.

HA. You’ll have to wait for the kiss gifs because I want to change gears now.

The entire last section was explaining why this scene was so unexpected given the context of the setup. Both characters had reasons to treat the other harshly. Jon for his stubbornness. Sansa for not telling Jon about the Vale. All the components were there to reinforce an ongoing feud between the two. These were the factors commonly cited by those oh-so-brilliant Starkbowl predictions leading up to season 7.

Yet despite that tension, we didn’t get a shouting match and glares and future plotting. We got a moment of clarity for once...and a whole new set of questions about these two. The beauty of their quiet moment together was in its simplicity - but also in the way that the writers indicated that there was so much more going on than we could have ever known.

Yet all of this information is packed into a scene that’s so quiet and slow. It’s in the romantic pacing.

3.) The Pacing

Jon and Sansa have had always had a distinct strangeness to their scenes in that they’re almost all completely different from any other. Their reunion was a moment of triumph for any Stark fans as they were the first two reunited since the pilot episode. Their fireside chat started incredibly sweet and ended with the heightened stakes of Sansa attempting to convince Jon to re-take Winterfell. The Pink Letter scene is the realization that their little oasis was about to meet the realities of a harsh world that still viewed both of them as threats.

The cloak scene where Sansa gifts Jon a Stark cloak after Jon takes keen interest in Sansa’s new dress is another moment where each took the initiative to validate the other without any prompting.

They argued twice, while at the encampment and in the tent before the battle, but each scene was unique as Sansa indirectly criticized Jon’s decisions to follow Davos considering Stannis’ ultimate failure, and Jon mostly tried to tune Sansa’s arguments out - while the tent scene is where those complaints came into a direct collision.

Then they met on the battlements and it was equally emotional but in a total reverse of tone.

Simply put, this scene was about “Jon & Sansa” as an entity and not about “Jon” having a talk with “Sansa”. It’s all in the pacing and it’s all in the framing.

We already know the setup. Now comes the payoff. Jon has already told Sansa they need to trust each other. That would be the “plot” purpose of the scene. As far as things happening that affect the story directly, it could have ended right there. “It’s ok Sansa. We’re a team now.” Or, alternatively, Jon could have kissed Sansa’s forehead and THEN said they need to trust each other and the tone could be viewed entirely differently. Instead, the show disposed of the “textual” purpose of the scene and continued right through with the “subtext” (which also continued into season 7) which is: what exactly is the nature of Jon and Sansa’s relationship?

It’s not just the forehead kiss. It’s not just the romantic back drop. It’s not just the setup. It’s not just the micro expression of the actors. It’s not just that the whole scene is relatively unnecessary. It’s all of that mixed together.

This is where the pacing comes into play. Let’s recap the scene to this point...

Sansa gets about 13 seconds of an entrance before Jon tells her he’s having the lord’s chamber prepared for her.

Sansa waits 3 seconds before answering “mother and father’s room?”

Jon waits about 3 seconds before he says he’s not a Stark.

Sansa answers “you are to me” almost immediately.

Jon has roughly a 5 second reaction shot.

There’s about a 5 second pause after Jon gives Sansa credit for winning the battle before Sansa starts apologizing.

Sansa says sorry and Jon waits about 6 seconds before he even starts walking over to her.

There’s about 3 seconds between Jon saying they have enemies and him reaching up to kiss her.

Jon gets roughly 3 seconds to kiss Sansa and about 4 seconds of gazing at her (and her gazing at him). They make this moment last.

Then they transition into a micro expression that juuuuust says everything.

The second Jon closes his lips, he looks down and abruptly starts to walk away. But his mood has immediately turned almost melancholy or sort of a confusion. It’s not normal to kiss someone tenderly and then just turn around and leave. Even if it were entirely platonic. There’s something left unsaid...especially since the camera focuses on the post-kiss for almost 6 seconds altogether before Jon starts to leave. Viewers aren’t the only ones left a bit bewildered.

Sansa’s reaction tells the same story.

She stands in the same position, almost frozen. She’s internally probably as confused as Jon. She came to Jon to apologize (remember, she approached him) - which I’m assuming she would have been dreading. She got her apology, and he delivered his form of “there’s nothing to forgive” which would normally signal that her part here is over. Yet he initiates physical affection for her when positive physical affection is something that’s a very complicated subject for her.

And it stuns her. As he begins to leave, we see her expressing that she doesn’t want the moment to end.

It’s ridiculously beautiful. Sansa finding a reason for Jon to get one last look, right after he had turned away in sort of Byronic melancholy, only to have her call him back again is extremely romantic given what we know about both of these characters.

The immediacy of Jon’s response in turning back towards her and the utter-seriousness of his look again makes the end of this scene a twist of its own.

“Winter is here.” That phrase is of course a play off of “Winter is coming” the words of House Stark and the ominous warning of fear and looming destruction echoed throughout the entirety of the series. Those words should mean “fear”; real “fear”. (also take note of her deliberately deep breath as her eyes scan Jon again..)

And how do they react to this potentially terrifying threat? By being adorable again!?!?

Well of course they do. Because winter is here and they are home. Think about this. Being together (moments after entering a scene which they both began reluctantly) is enough to make them smile sweetly as they acknowledge the coming storm.

And the end really cements Jon’s view of Sansa as a noble lady.

And the pure joy Sansa feels as the scene concludes.

To wrap up...the scene didn’t have to happen in the first place. The setup made you wonder if there was going to be fracture. It was tender. It was warm. It’s pacing made you sit and take notice. It didn’t waste any time - it took its time.

We were meant to see not just the displays of forgiveness and validation by Jon and Sansa towards each other. We were meant to see them expecting the worst and getting something beautiful instead. We were meant to see them wrestling with the confusion of where the scene was heading. We were meant to see them completely comfortable in each other’s presence in this very moment - and we were meant to see a very subtle but also very unsubtle indication that the direction of their relationship is causing (and must cause) them inner conflict before it can truly provide them fulfillment.

They weren’t a royal couple in this scene but I’m fully confident that after the finale season has concluded, this scene will be the one everyone can point to and say “this is where Jon and Sansa ending as king and queen truly became possible.”

#jonsa #jon x sansa #king and queen in the north #jonsa is endgame #tltwp meta

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theliberaltony · 4 years

Link

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Dr. Royal S. Copeland, the field marshal in New York City’s battle against the 1918 influenza epidemic, knew his enemy was more than just a virus. As health commissioner, he oversaw a medical crisis that would eventually kill some 30,000 New Yorkers over three waves of the disease. In Copeland’s estimation, the problem was not only influenza but also the city’s crowded tenements and endemic poverty.

To modern eyes, the measures he took to stymie the spread might seem strange. In an extensive interview with The New York Times after the first wave of influenza had passed, Copeland touted the decision not to close New York’s public schools. It was, he reasoned, best to keep them open to give the city’s children respite from crowded apartments and, if need be, a point of access to the medical system. “We have practically 1,000,000 children in the public schools, about 750,000 of them from tenement homes. These homes are frequently unsanitary and crowded,” he said. “The children’s parents are occupied with the manifold duties involved in keeping the wolf from the door. No matter how loving they may be — and, of course, they are just as loving as any parents anywhere — they simply have not the time to give the necessary attention to the initial symptoms of disease.”

Even under normal circumstances, living in New York City requires a certain surrender of personal space: Subways are packed, apartments are small and bodegas get cramped with after-work shoppers. But not all New Yorkers have to live in a stressful crowd all the time, a fact the COVID-19 pandemic has laid all too bare. The city’s wealth inequality has always been apparent: financial safety nets, Whole Foods delivery and routine access to health care. But the pandemic has added a new layer to what affluence can afford some New Yorkers, including routine access to personal space and the flexibility that white-collar work allows. While over 100 years have gone by since the 1918 pandemic, some of Copeland’s worries about the difficult nature of city life — and the inequities of who lives the most comfortably — remain chillingly relevant.

We know already that the COVID-19 pandemic is affecting people of color more than white Americans. While the virus stalks the rich and poor — leading some to call it “the great equalizer” — those with lesser means have fewer places to hide from it. Dr. Andrew Goodman, a professor of public health at New York University who used to work for the city’s Health Promotion and Disease Prevention unit, pointed to the pandemic as “a more dramatic example of the health-inequity side of income inequality and racial inequality in the U.S.” Deaths from diseases that disproportionately affect minority communities, like diabetes and hypertension, “usually get spread out over time, and it doesn’t seem as dramatic,” Goodman said. “This is a more accelerated version.”

While there is a lot of uncertainty about the actual numbers of those infected — only a fraction of people who show symptoms are tested, so the rate of infection is almost certainly higher than what’s being reported — life in two New York City ZIP codes, one working class and one wealthy, gives us a glimpse into different ways of city living that might mean life or death in today’s New York.

Densely populated and working-class, East Elmhurst, Queens, has one of the highest rates of COVID-19 in New York City.

STEPHANIE KEITH / GETTY IMAGES

According to a running ProPublica tally of confirmed positive COVID-19 cases, the ZIP codes with the highest rate of infection are in a certain corner of Queens: East Elmhurst. One East Elmhurst ZIP code, 11370, is home to the notorious Rikers Island correctional facility, and has the highest recorded positive test rate in New York City — 127 percent worse than the city’s average. Jails like Rikers have become hotbeds for spreading the disease given their space constraints — well over 600 inmates and workers are infected with the virus at Rikers. East Elmhurst’s other, non-Rikers ZIP code, 11369, is a residential neighborhood and has the second worst positive test rate in the city, 121 percent greater than the average.

East Elmhurst has seen a high rate of individuals tested, and that might be in part because Elmhurst Hospital in neighboring Elmhurst, Queens — “the epicenter within the epicenter,” in the words of New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio — has set up a testing tent outside the hospital. According to 2018 data from the Census Bureau’s American Community Survey, 34,118 people live in the 1.1 square miles of East Elmhurst’s 11369 ZIP code. Sixty-four percent of its residents are Latino, and the median household income is $54,121, three-quarters of the median income in New York’s greater metro area. On the neighborhood’s northern border is LaGuardia Airport, and south of that are mosques and diners, a baseball field and blocks and blocks of houses cramped together. On those cramped blocks, the average household size is 3.2 people, 20 percent above the city average.

Nearly 11 percent of all households in ZIP code 11369 are also multigenerational, with three or more generations living under the same roof. It’s possible that the grouping of young and old together in one house could have something to do with higher infection rates. Researchers are still unclear about how many others a person infects when they have the virus, but early estimates were around 2 to 2.5 people. The elderly are more susceptible, and in Italy, doctors believe that the country’s culture of intergenerational living and familial closeness has had disastrous effects during the pandemic; Italy’s rate of death from COVID-19 is among the highest in the world.

Underlying conditions like asthma tend to be more prevalent in crowded environments, according to Dr. Y. Claire Wang, who specializes in public health and chronic disease prevention at the New York Academy of Medicine. The respiratory condition puts individuals at greater risk for COVID-19 complications, and households in city apartments with pests or mold, common problems in public housing units, often have higher rates of asthma, she said.

Things look different on the other side of the positive test rate list. ZIP code 11215 in Park Slope, Brooklyn, has among the city’s lowest rates of COVID-19, at 56 percent below average.1 Park Slope is a different New York from East Elmhurst in many ways. Two-thirds of its population is white, and at $123,583, the median household income is one and a half times greater than that of the average in New York’s greater metropolitan area. The neighborhood is named for its proximity to one of the city’s largest green spaces, Prospect Park, and it’s known for its gracious brownstones and tree-lined streets. The average household size in Park Slope is 2.4 people, and only 1.8 percent of households are multigenerational.

Residents of Park Slope, Brooklyn, tend to be affluent, with white-collar jobs easily adaptable to working from home.

ROY ROCHLIN / GETTY IMAGES

The racial and ethnic differences between Park Slope and East Elmhurst might prove particularly important as both neighborhoods weather the pandemic. Early statistical reports on the disease are already painting a picture of racial inequity. Earlier this week New York State released preliminary numbers that showed Latinos have the highest rate of COVID-19 fatality in New York City.

A Kaiser Family Foundation report on initial pandemic data reveals that minorities are bearing the brunt of infection and death from the virus in many places. Higher rates of chronic conditions in minorities put them at greater risk for serious complications from COVID-19. In Washington, D.C., where black residents make up 45 percent of the total population, they account for 29 percent of confirmed cases and 59 percent of deaths. In Michigan, black residents are 14 percent of the population, but represent 33 percent of confirmed cases and 41 percent of deaths.

“We say something as simple as ‘your ZIP code should not define your health’ — [but] in New York City, that’s often the story,” said Dr. Torian Easterling, the deputy commissioner of the Center for Health Equity and Community Wellness, a city agency that addresses racial and social inequities in health. He pointed to high rates of chronic diseases like diabetes and hypertension and a lack of access to healthy foods in minority communities as long-standing public health problems that have only been exacerbated by the onset of COVID-19.

During the 1918 pandemic, the white population had a higher rate of infection, according to a 2007 study of the outbreak by Thomas A. Garrett, then an economist at the St. Louis Federal Reserve. But that, Garrett surmised, had to do with the fact that the black population in the U.S. was still largely rural; the pandemic was a particular menace to cities. “[T]he nonwhite population in the United States has become much more urban. … A modern-day pandemic may result in greater nonwhite mortality rates because a greater percentage of the nonwhite population in the United States lives in urban areas,” he wrote. Census estimates from 2019 show that the majority of New York City residents are people of color.

Across New York, communities of color have long been more subject to chronic ailments like diabetes and hypertension. The COVID-19 pandemic has only exacerbated these trends.

JOHN NACION / NURPHOTO VIA GETTY IMAGES / ANGELA WEISS / AFP VIA GETTY IMAGES

Park Slope and the East Elmhurst ZIP code of 11369 are similarly dense, with roughly 32,000 and 31,000 people per square mile, respectively. But life in the neighborhoods is different in other ways that might contribute to their divergent rates of apparent COVID-19 infection. According to the latest Census Bureau count, the most prevalent jobs in East Elmhurst are clerical work, food service and construction. In Park Slope, management, entertainment, education and business are the most common professions. The typical East Elmhurst worker is required to leave home to perform their job, while the lines of work most common in Park Slope are adaptable to teleworking. And Latinos — East Elmhurst’s dominant ethnic group — are more likely than all other Americans to consider COVID-19 a threat to their financial stability, according to a recent Pew Research Center survey.

We’ve already seen how socioeconomic circumstances can correlate with Americans’ ability to stay at home. A recent New York Times analysis of anonymized cellphone data tracked the movements of Americans and found that those in the top 10 percent income bracket have limited their movements more than those in the bottom 10 percent. What Copeland said in 1918 could very likely still hold true: “I have no doubt that the most dangerous means of transmitting disease was the subway. … Many a man who was sick must have felt that he had to go to work.”

Copeland’s struggle against the currents of poverty and influenza would continue into 1920. Updating the public on the state of the epidemic, which had reemerged, Copeland told The New York Times that the health department was working to stop the eviction of tenants during the outbreak and described the struggle to attract nurses to the city’s hospitals, since wealthy individuals were offering them higher pay to work in private homes. He pleaded for better ventilation on subways and buses and criticized coffin-makers who were price-gouging the city’s residents. Even in death, New York was unrelenting.

And so it remains today. Early this week, the city announced that hospital morgues around New York were overflowing with the dead. An Associated Press report painted a grim picture of one Brooklyn hospital. Even with an infection rate much lower than those in Queens, “mounds of corpses” had become so difficult to navigate that hospital staff were stepping over them.

The great equalizer isn’t COVID-19 — it’s death. But in New York’s epidemic, death attends to the haves and have-nots differently: For the city’s poor, it hovers closely, and when it comes, it leaves them as crowded as ever.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Clare Malone

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9w1ft · 6 years

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okay everyone, kaylor and non kaylors alike. i want you to take a seat for a sec. i’m normally not the kind of girl to rudely barge in here... and i’m terribly sorry, but real talk. we need to talk about somebody lovely on The Swift Life

if you want full context on everything that has been happening since mid june, please look through my #tsl tag.

for now, just the essentials:

1. i have been following a recent string of gifts being given by the @TheSwiftLife official account on TSL. the one that started with the yacht taymoji... added into the In The Kitchen Pack...

2. these gifts from @TheSwiftLife caught my attention because, a lot of the content (wording and symbols) relates to our fandom. but you don’t need to understand more than the fact that i am a kaylor that has been looking at this from a kaylor perspective.

3. at some point it occurred to me that maybe these taymoji were telling a coming out story. if you want to know more, please look through my #tsl tag.

4. i got to a point in my sleuthing where i saw a throughline. but i felt kind of like a mad woman so i openly asked on tumblr for the taymoji gods to send me a sign.

5. shortly after, i got a sign in the form of a taymoji gift. the puzzle piece heart taymoji that had the flavor text “put the pieces together.” so i made my first proof post, attempting to identify the storyline.

6. after the puzzle piece proof, we got a 2 week period of no further gifts. i thought that maybe this was over and i has shared everything i had to

7. after that, taymoji gifts started being given out that at times mirrored certain conversations within the kaylor community on tumblr (example)

8. so i decided to try and address tsl directly, as a way to confirm if they were truly looking at our blogs. i asked them to post a taymoji gift that perfectly embodied who I am. i had a specific taymoji in mind i was hoping they would post because i left a clue in my tumblr profile. and that exact taymoji was gifted on @TheSwiftLife main feed, 13 days after i made the post.

9. that day also happened to be 13 days before my birthday. it was such a coincidence i was quite moved and posted about it with many thanks to them

10. separately i kept thinking on this whole string of taymoji gifts.. how it was so odd for it to have started off with a yacht taymoji. who is even running this event?? i thought. so in thinking about this, i recalled how kaylors often refer to one member of Karlie’s family as our ship’s Kaptain. i made another post on tumblr asking if there was a certain Kaptain running this event. the next day, the one and only Kimby Kloss posted to her instagram story a photo of her wearing a baseball cap with a yacht charter company logo on it, tagged @yachtzoomc.

11. kimby... could she be helping out with this Yacht In The Kitchen Event...? amidst my speculations, and general goosebumps overall, the following happening just occurred:

Kalinda King is an account on The Swift Life app, known in the community as a social media manager for the app with @KalindaKing being her personal account

whenever there’s a big update, or new content about to be released, she has posted relevant information and hinted at what it would be in the form of a riddle.

because of this, and also just because she is super sweet, she has become a prominent and beloved member of the app’s community. interactions with her are almost part and parcel of the app—people want to be reblogged by her, noticed by her, people @ her all the time. she’s kind of a mini celeb.

i was looking at her page the other day as i check her feed from time to time and noticed that her bio says she is a fan of “the good wife”

i casually googled “Kalinda King The Good Wife” out of curiosity, as any good gaylor swift fan does, and i got to this page on wikipedia:

Kalinda is the name of a character in The Good Wife. King is also the last name of the creators of the show. all quickly viewable information.

🧐KalindaKing is definitely a pen name! 🧐 i thought. in fact, kalinda doesn’t post about her personal life, nor does she have a face for a profile photo. but maybe i was wrong, i thought, so i started scrolling through Kalinda’s posts in search of something to dissuade me.

in doing so, i could see that she posted 35 days ago that she went to see taylor’s concert (the day i was looking was 9/19)

35 days ago from 9/19 is approximately 8/15

that’s after the tampa show and before the miami show

so kaylors... put on your thinking caps please:

🧐who do we know that...

1. lives in florida

2. has a first name that starts with K and a last name that starts with K

3. likes to interact with us

💋

😘

that’s right.

Kimby Kloss (younger sister of Karlie Kloss) has by all indications been interacting with swifties on TSL as community manager and has been a valued part of the swiftie community at large, likely for an *entire year*

let. that. sink. in.

think i’m nuts? so did i!

so i put all my eggs in one basket and posted to my tumblr the other day “i know who you have been. do you want me to share it?

and i went to bed.

and i woke up the next day to this taymoji gift.

it is my birthday on september 25th, as i posted about in reaction to TSL gifting the exact taymoji i was asking them to.

📯so this is me🏤speaking now.📯

please... if you have a tsl account, or are willing to download the app and make one... i will make a quick post on my tsl account of the same name. if you could kindly give it a reshare and swiftsend. i have full confidence that it is intended for this detail of the rep era to come out now, and i want your support. maybe, do it as a birthday gift, for me. ☺️

the more swiftsends (like an upvote currency) the post gets, the higher chance it has of going on the main feed which *all the app can see*

think about that. think about how many people the information could reach. how many minds could possibly be swayed. think about how the app has been interacting with us and with me, and about how they alerted me that they gave me three presents just now when i asked for final confirmation if i could post this. (please please read through my blog hashtag #tsl if you want to see more about how it’s been developing)

this is likely the final piece 🍰 needed from me this era.

i say that because, and i meant to make this a birthday post but i’d rather have the weekend to ride this out, it is *you* kaylors that have done the heavy lifting. all of you. i’ve called myself one of you because i fell down the rabbit hole this year but i did because of all of you before me. i have spent this whole year falling in love again with taylor, but also, falling in love with you all.

your wit, your resourcefulness, your love for taylor and your ardent desire to support her in securing her best life. listen. we hold in our hands a wealth of knowledge and insight into the mastery and illusion of this artist, and i want every fan of taylor’s to know how dedicated we are to her, and how gorgeous,

nay, a step above that,

how incredibly gorgeous her mind is. (and oh my god kimby!! 😩🙌)

there are less than two months til her tour ends in november. at their behest, let’s put this into motion for them.

2019 Edit: please read the follow-up!

#kaylor #gaylor swift #taylor swift #taymoji #the swift life #tsl #reputation #karlie kloss

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rylbanks · 5 years

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dat’s my bread ( bankstan )

What: Chance meeting with all the flirts Where: Grocery store When: pre-brunch Who: ebanks and Seb Stan

@thissebstan

It had been almost two weeks since she'd last gone grocery shopping, and the morning after her wine and cheese night with Jane Fonda, Liz was sporting quite the hangover but, she knew that she needed the essentials for the get-together she was throwing later that evening; a few of the Pitch Perfect gals were in the area, so she'd invited them over. Treading the aisles of the Whole Foods or whatever store she'd happened upon, Elizabeth absent-mindedly picked up and replaced things from shelves before rounding into the baked goods: bagels for Max, donuts as a treat for the boys, baguettes for her soiree. In the midst of checking her cell phone (some directorial responsibilities or another talk show opportunity), she palmed around blindly for the baguettes she knew were in her peripheral. It wasn't until she glanced and saw the final one being scooped up that she tore her attention from the cellphone in her hand and huffed, "Well, no bruschetta for me."

Usually, Sebastian wasn't such a slob, but after jetlag had started to kick his ass, he hadn't felt like dressing up properly, and gone out in a tee and sweats to get some milk and bread for his still quite empty fridge. No, that wasn't true, it wasn't empty, it just didn't have anything with carbs in it, which was what he craved right now. Toasted baguette pieces with salted butter, actually - and with this thought in mind, he had walked to the nearest shop and headed right to the fresh baked goods, stepping right around a small blonde and reaching for the last baguette on the rack. Her voice stopped him in his tracks, as he was retreated in an he turned around with a somewhat sheepish look on his face. "I didn't know you were gunning for it," he told her, "it seemed that you were engrossed in your phone instead, but -" Sebastian guessed his craving could wait, and held out the baguette to her, realising too late that he would hit her in the nose with it. "Oops, sorry!"

"Typically, I'd say you missed and need to work on your aim but, I'll let it slide." She smirked. Liz, when presented with the opportunity, could turn anything into an innuendo. She eyed the contents he was carrying and allowed one of her brows to rise questioningly, "Big party you're throwing, I take it...?" Elizabeth just couldn't help herself, as she reached up to grab the other end of the baguette, and move it away from her face as she used her other hand to pack away her cell phone while she made small talk with Sebastian. The blonde made light work of waving away his comment, "Today, I'm all business. Production companies don't run themselves; not when you've got a hungry husband and business partner at home, waiting on his lox and bagels."

The reply both surprised and amused him to no end and he raised an eyebrow at the tiny, fierce woman in front of him. There was an nuance in her voice that had him try and give back as good as he had gotten. „Trust me, when I say that if I set real aim on anything, I don’t miss.“ It was all too easy to reply to her, and the next thing he found himself doing was grinning like an idiot, because if he looked at his own shopping, it was pretty meagre and miserable. „Long night, somewhat of a special craving... I need a day off, for once, and these things -" He jiggled his shopping in his hands and gave a small, non-plussed shrug. „But you should know about throwing a big party, don’t you?“ The baguette poked the doughnuts lightly. „And that business partner couldn’t get his own ass down to the shops to get his New York style bagel? Men these days...“ Laughing, he shook his head. „Do you want the baguette or not? If I keep waving it in your face, someone might get the wrong idea..."

Seeing her reaction mirrored on his face, Liz smirked and shook her head, apparently she'd met her match. Her fingers dipped down to the RESIST chain around her neck, and fiddled with the jagged edges of the letters while she thought up a retort to his comment, her other hand now resting on the bar of the shopping cart. She nodded, "I bet you don't. I mean, it's big enough, I'm sure, right?" She deadpanned before she then added, "You can wave it in my face all you want. Just be glad it's not a cucumber, then there'd be talk..." Elizabeth chortled, slapping her hand on the push bar of the cart a few times before she set her fingers drumming there. She cleared her throat, "He's gotta keep the house under control while I'm not there. He's being mom while I'm out being mom."

Eyebrows shooting up, when his gaze slipped to where he fingers were pointing to, Sebastian couldn’t help but chuckle. This woman really came prepared! But it was her retort that had him snap his eyes back to her and stare a little dumbfoundedly. Snark and banter this early in the morning? He might just propose on the spot, but then again, he knew she was married, and dropping to his knee would just make things awkward. In the end, he opted for a nonchalant shrug - he would let her in the dark about what he thought of it. “Why does a baguette get more slack than cucumber? What did the poor cucumber ever do to you that you don’t like it so? Was it not satisfactory for you?” Unfortunately, the cucumbers were down the aisle, or he might have picked one up to give her a pep talk about it. “Not sure any man can ever be mom, they’ll be dad and your kids will look at you happily, when you return. But what’s up with the rest of the food? You don’t need that much to make a bagel.”

Liz couldn't but chortle at the retort Sebastian came up with. Sure, it was still technically the morning and they were in a public venue but, she had half expected his rebuttal to be something equally as snarky as hers had been. She loved keeping up with someone who could banter as much as the next person, and he was certainly more than the next person, she pondered, thinking for a moment about how she should reply before it just came out, "Well, when we say we like 'em big, we're not lying but, baguettes have so much that goes to waste. Cucumbers on the other hand..." She trailed off, smirking up at him with a knowing glint in her eyes, as she flicked them back and forth between his. Elizabeth gave one of her deep, from the belly laughs, and tilted her head back slightly before she answered, "It was definitely pushing past satisfactory." After a moment, Elizabeth then nodded, "Well, it is modern America. Guys can be just as great as women. My boys know how important it is that they can support their mama and any other females they happen across. They've been raised well, so far." And, almost as an afterthought, she continued, "Well, I'm throwing a little gathering, if you're not busy, you could stop by."

Sebastian couldn’t help but make a face - with his mind so prone to going right into the gutter, it wasn’t all too difficult to go there, but trying to imagine any woman, any person really, using a baguette... he scrunched up his face. „The baguette has length and girth, but the rough edges on top might make for a very painful experience. So, you shouldn’t hate on the cucumber, but appreciate it more.“ Elizabeth’s smirk had him reply in kind, and raise an eyebrow in quiet challenge, just to see what would happen now. She seemed to be one of those people who could take someone’s comment and spin it in whichever direction she was inclined to go right now. And he liked being surprised. „Addictive, then?“ Sebastian asked playfully, her comment leaving him chuckling and biting his lower lip as to not laugh too loudly. It was an interesting morning encounter so far, and her talking so freely and passionately about her husband, as if the previous bit of conversation hadn’t happened, had him appreciate her with silent respect. „With a mother like theirs I don’t doubt it for a second.“ Just like Elizabeth, mother had done everything in her power to teach him that women were amazing, and had special skill sets on top of the normal human ones - and that he should help out whenever he happened across a woman in need. No matter what that „need“ looked like. „Is that a family gathering? I wouldn’t want to intrude.“ And he really didn’t, he would be just as happy with his baguette and salted butter, and some quiet moments in the sun today. Although she did intrigue him a lot, and he was leaning towards giving up his quiet morning to figure her out some more.

The blonde quirked her brow at his seemingly back-handed comment but, she laughed all the same, “You’re not wrong.” She agreed with him and eyed the baguette. Elizabeth didn’t need to be told twice, “You know how many people have asked me about sex, making a porno and fucking Seth Rogen...?” She wasn’t really prepared to answer, given that she’d been asked more than a handful of times. Given that she was a massive flirt, and self proclaimed lover of hot dudes, the general public had built up an opinion of her which she neither agreed nor disagreed with. It was all part of the fun, and for some part, the reason she was cast in specific roles. Liz shook her head and smiled, “Family but, not actual family. A few of the Pitch Perfect girls are in the area, I invited them over. I’m sure you could entertain and slot right in with your cucumber or baguette...” She left her comment hanging, a definite source of amusement, if Sebastian saw the opportunity to take it further, “I mean, I’m not about the forced life but, the offer’s open, if you want in.”

„Nevertheless, it has other uses, and we should appreciate the taste and the feeling it leaves behind, once we ate it.“ Genuine joy was woven into his voice, mostly, because he didn’t get to eat bread, or any kind of carbohydrates, very often - it was a treat he was looking forward to. „Why would they...“ It was then that he realised where he had seen her before she had moved to town, and shook his head at himself and his own stupidity. Of course! „Honestly, even if you made a film about it, it hardly makes you a pro - I wield knives and fight aliens in the latest films I did... I’d probably be shit at that in real life. Also, fucking Seth Rogen? Who even wants to know that?“ Sebastian made a comical face and chuckled. Seth was a good guy, and a good sport, not to mention a great actor, so it was mostly ribbing, and not his real opinion. „That sounds like a nice group to have - chosen families are the best.“ But how could he intrude in that? „Entertain, hm? Please don’t expect me to whip it right out,“ he laughed, „but I could share my baguette with you girls, if you’d still like? I’d even toss in a cucumber or two. Everyone likes them differently.“ His grin widened. „As long as you don’t have me for dinner... well, as dinner - when should I be there?"

"Oh, you don't say? What would those other uses be?" Elizabeth punctuated her statement, going even as far to use the air-bunny quotations. She was highly amused at Sebastian and his comments before she continued, "Yeah, certain things just leave aftertastes, it can be a bit weird." She turned, scouting for the fresh fruit and produce aisle before she flicked her gaze back to him and smirked, "I'm looking to make cobbler, do you peaches also leave an aftertaste...?" The blonde could carry on her teasing and innuendos for as long as she needed or wanted to but, knew she would be bound by time constraints of her impending brunch with the gals. Liz took a moment, analyzing Sebastian's comment before she nodded, flicking her brows slightly in recognition, "I'll give you that. There's no way I'm a seasoned pro at those things, and you'd be surprised. I get asked that a lot, actually. I mean, truthfully, I didn't realize how intimate that scene would be." She chortled, waving off her own comment, "Yeah, no. I wouldn't expect that but, sharing would be appreciated. It's a shame we didn't start out talking about cake, I have plenty of jokes I could make about icing..."

“It leaves you satisfied, doesn’t it?” Instead of replying in more detail, Sebastian just grinned at her broadly and raised an eyebrow. Surely, he didn’t need to spell it out for her, did he? Thoroughly amused by her witty comebacks, he followed her to the fruit and vegetable section, picking up a cucumber along the way, because - why not? “I’m never quite sure what to make of aftertastes - does our alimentation really have that much of a lasting effect on us?” Smirking right back, he pretended to think about it for a moment, before replying with a cheeky, “I think we should try and find out. Perhaps they do and they’ll become the new pineapple. Since it’s used as a butt emoji, let’s hope it doesn’t leave you tasting like one...” On a good cheat day like today, he would never say no to a good peach cobbler, or any kind of treat - and she seemed like someone who could make a very tasty one. Plus, now that he knew how good she was with innuendoes, he wanted to push and prod some more. “Does Seth get asked the same question? Otherwise it’s just sensationalist shit some people like to get off on.” From his own fans, he knew how inappropriate some questions could be, and how intrusive, and he couldn’t quite imagine what it was like, if you had actually filmed scenes like that. “But, real question, have you ever filmed a sex scene that left you so bothered you needed release afterwards?” Her comment about cake and icing had him snort and shake his head, he could imagine where this was going. “If we could just plan our lives better - that being said, are we talking frosting or a melt here? Or added sprinkles?”

Elizabeth didn't even feel the need to respond to Sebastian's quasi-question, she just smirked and gave a routine shrug, thumbing at the baguette now in her cart. Of course, she'd be the one taking home the 'bacon' so to speak, it's what she came for. As Sebastian lifted the cucumber, she allowed her smirk to broaden, "If you call that a cucumber, I'd start being worried about did in Math class with values and measurements." Liz quietly felt around amongst the peaches, prodding and poking at their fuzzy skins to find the softest, which usually meant juiciest peaches. She exhaled, almost choking on the air, "Is that an offer...?" She almost roared with laughter, "Because, let me tell you, I would happily oblige, husband's out of town..." She gave him an overly animated wink and nudged his arm. The blonde frowned, shaking her head, "Wait, what? I've been using that damn emoji in the wrong way?! I've been using it as, well, ma peach." Elizabeth grabbed a baggy and began tossing the peaches in, careful not to bruise them as she responded to his question, "I don't know, actually. My father-in-law was super uncomfortable watching that scene though. Eh, sometimes I indulge those people, give 'em something to get off to." She nodded, her typical carefree attitude shining through as she all but tossed the peaches into the cart, and chortled to herself, "Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" Liz didn't miss a beat, "Yes. Yes, I have." She started along the aisle, glancing back at Sebastian, "Dude, I'm talking plain, old white frosting. Who fucking has time to do melted shit?"

While he might have given up ownership of his baguette, he was still in the best of moods, especially, when it came to teasing his new-found friend. At her raised eyebrow and mocking comment, he placed the smaller exemplary down and picked up a longer, thicker one. “Just be glad you don’t get pickles or gherkins - this one does seem a little more appropriate.” Sebastian was pretty confident about himself and his abilities, the size of a random cucumber would not make a dent in his ego. “If you’re offering, then I don’t see why not?” No one said it had to be her that did the tasting, right? “Although I am rather cautious with taken people. They tend to be more trouble than they might be worth.” With a shrug, he waved the cucumber around and then put it to the rest of his groceries - he wasn’t turning anyone down, he was merely being honest. “These millennials and their double-entendres drive me nuts. Why can’t a peach be a peach? And don’t get me started on the eggplant - if dicks looked that way, I’d be worried, not aroused.” When he heard- things like these, he was glad his mum and stepdad didn’t watch many of his films - some were of a rather graphic nature, he had never shied away from intimate, sexually charged scenes, and he surely wouldn’t start now. “As long as you’re the one setting the rules. You are the one who needs to be comfortable with it all.” Her quip didn’t surprise him, neither did her reply - they had all been there one way or another. “And did you ever follow through?” His grin widened and it felt like it would ultimately split his face, if he kept it up. “Well, it’s all about preference, isn’t it? What kind of icing you like... whether you just have a taste, or take in the whole thing all at once.” Having gathered different experiences with both genders over the years, he knew what he was talking about and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. As they arrived at the check-out, he placed his groceries down to pay for them. “Do you still feel like inviting me over to your girls’ day? I might be a little out of place.”

"I take it gherkins and pickles are a bad thing?" Elizabeth quirked her brow again, noting the expression the check-out assistant gave them, "If it's about size, then I agree. Size does matter... Bananas, pickles, eggplants just don't do it. That's why cucumbers are perfect." She nodded, pulling out her credit card and a random coupon. She watched as the clerk swiped and scanned their items, placing them into the bagging area, "So, you've had an experience with someone who was taken, huh? How'd that work out?" Liz chortled, taking back her credit card, "I can imagine it's uh, not as easy-going with someone who's off the market but, surely the thrill is worth it? But, getting back to that offer, yeah, I am." The blonde stared him down, almost challengingly as she awaited his response and reaction to how bluntly she'd agreed with him. Jokingly, or not. "Come on, man, you gotta keep up with that shit. Apple aren't about to turn around and throw out dick and pussy emojis. They gotta keep it family-friendly and people still gotta sext." She threw her arms up in the air slightly, using one of them to grab at her groceries and haul the tote onto the crook of her elbow, "Maybe you're just looking at them wrong. I mean, the dicks." Elizabeth gave a light shrug before she nodded, "I try to make sure I'm in control as much as possible with things like that. I never want a repeat of my first feature; closed set was a fucking tent in the middle of the warehouse we shot in. Not the best setting for your first sex scene, either. I'm going to go with a resounding yes, who wouldn't want to rub one out after making out Marsden?" Liz let out the most unladylike snort imaginable as she heard Sebastian's comment about 'icing' and she glanced back at him, "Oh, I've been on both sides of that fence but, you've obviously a story to tell there. Did you drive over here?" She tilted her head, fishing for her sunglasses and car keys, "Because, you're going to tell me that tale over mimosas or something else."

Sebastian made a sound of indifference, but then shrugged. „They’re prickly and knobby - plus pickles live in vinegar, don’t they? Shoving that up anywhere else than your mouth sounds…“ He gave a shudder. „Painful. Same with big sizes. Too big, that is.“ The last thing he had expected to happen this morning was a conversation like this, but now, he couldn’t quite imagine not having this conversation with Elizabeth. „How do you think it worked out?“ Sebastian quipped back, and gave her a lopsided smile. „I’m glad her husband never knew who the „culprit“ was, otherwise you might be talking to a ghost now, because he would have hid the corpse.“ That experience had thoroughly put him off taken people, but that offer… his smile widened. „Now, I’ll have to remember that. And yes, the thrill can be incredibly arousing.“ Elizabeth being blunt and open with him fascinated him in a way, and intrigued him, too - and he found himself wanting to know where it was going. „Family-friendly sexting? Is that a thing?“ A chortle passed his lips. He couldn’t quite imagine anyone not understanding what such a text was about. „What’s a pussy emoji? Apart from the obvious kitten, which no one will use, probably.“ Sebastian could see why she would want control in anything she did, and especially, when she was working - and also working on such scenes, too. „A fucking tent? As in a tent for fucking?“ he asked, consciously misinterpreting her words, but then he grew more serious and nodded. „I think we need to be in control in moments like those, otherwise we might do things we don’t really want to, and regret it later.“ Suddenly, Sebastian started snorting. „Not sure he’d do it for me, but go on.“ While talking, they had walked outside to the parking lot, and he had simply followed her until now, since he had walked to the store earlier. But now, he stopped and looked at her. „I am?“ he asked, thoroughly amused, but then followed her to her car. „What do you want to know? No icing-analogies.“ The prospect of alcohol that early in the morning was exciting, but the fact that he would spend more time trading banter with Elizabeth really sealed the deal.

"Since when have bananas been prickly and knobby? I mean, sure, they do a similar job as a knob. Oh, shit, yeah. Pickled pickles shoved in the hoohah wouldn't end well, you're right." She snorted, "No, man, come on. It's all about lube and angles. Obviously, you have not been doing things right." She widened her eyes and gave him a knowing smirk. Collecting her groceries, Liz nodded slowly, "Yeah, I can imagine he would have probably pulverized you. Was it someone in the business? Like, who'd be on your FMK list, K being kill or kiss, your decision. I know who'd be on mine but, it all depends on the day." The blonde glanced back at him and shrugged slightly, "But, like I said, hubby's out of town, if you're down for a few more thrills..." She joked, once again nudging him in the elbow and winking suggestively at him. Elizabeth scoffed, craning her neck at Seb, "Dude, I didn't put those two things together..." She hauled her groceries into the back of her Audi before rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Having two young sons was trying but, getting through whatever conversation this was, was a whole other kettle of fish, "The kitty could be one; the taco, the butterfly, the honeypot... is there a beaver emoji?" In her time both in front of and behind the camera, she'd seen some weird things playing out in action, the indie movie she was referencing was definitely the weirdest she'd witnessed, "It actually was, a tent for fucking. There was a mannequin and a bong in the scene with us. It was terrible, almost put me off sex scenes." She nodded before she laughed out loud, opening the driver's side door and climbing in, "But, it's a good thing I'm down for playing the bit parts, usually the gal who ends up making out or banging someone." Elizabeth calmly added, "The man's got a dong for days, I think. I don't know, it definitely wasn't a pack of Certs in his pocket. Marsden and Woody are pretty head-to-head on the making out front." After a moment, Liz brought up one of her more comedic moments, "My favorite co-star though, was a shiny little shower head. That was a time to be alive..." Swinging the car out of the space in the lot, Elizabeth quirked her brow at Sebastian's comment, "Why no on the icing tales?"

What was this conversation? Sebastian continues to laugh, too amused to care about the weirded out looks the customers behind them, or the cashier, were giving them. If they were prudish, that was their problem. “Bananas have a stalk on one side and this hard bit on the other. Can’t imagine that being so much fun. At least they taste better than pickles.” Making a face, he burst out laughing again - his cheeks were starting to hurt, even, a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long while. “I’m not one to kiss - or kill - and tell, but yes, it was. Not so sure they’re still married - perhaps it’s better that they’re not.” Her reply had him stop dead in his tracks and stare at her for a moment - up until now, it had only been a game, a very suggestive and flirty one, but now - did she really mean it? And what was more, would he actually accept that kind of invitation? The nudge he received shook him out of his thoughts, and he looked down at her. „If you’re up to it…“ there, it was decided, Sebastian would leave it up to Elizabeth - she was the one who was married, after all. He was free as a bird. „You just did,“ he protested cheekily, „and it sounds kinda funny, given that I now imagine you doing it during big family dinners now…“ A large grin remained on his face, mostly because he was teasing her now, and getting the best reactions out of her. „A mannequin and a bong? And you bonged them both?“ He couldn’t help it - she really gave him the best innuendo openings, and the best reactions, too. „I can see each of them, but the beaver… that one is unappealing somehow.“ Sliding into the passenger seat, he placed his groceries on his lap, while he buckled up. „I’m often the eye candy man… I don’t mind much, but it does get tiring sometimes? I’d rather not bang on camera for once.“ Sebastian made a face, but then added with a laugh, „I’d rather go at it behind the scenes. And Marsden? Are you sure he didn’t put a gherkin into his pocket?“ There were some people he had enjoyed making out with in front of the camera more than others, but he had never gone and rated them… especially not inanimate objects. „Wow, poor James and Woody…“ Between laughs, he had to explain his comment a little more. „I just think that we can talk about the real thing, and not use analogies to explain things - unless you do want to talk about baking."

"Okay, okay, you win this round. I'm not about to go shoving bananas, pickles or other phallic objects near my peach." She snorted, unable to help herself, "I really can't look at bananas in the same way, probably since like, high school. Damn sex-ed classes." Liz nodded, punching it out of the parking lot and hitting a red light almost instantly, "Oh, damn Stan, that brooding secrecy got me hot." She smirked, wiggling her shoulders in her typical quasi-hyperactive fashion whenever she got excited about something. After a moment, Elizabeth quirked her brow, lips parted slightly; she had not been expecting him to continue playing the field and almost make it back to home plate -damn her and her sports references- with the turn-around he now posed. She gripped at the wheel, over-extending her arms so one of her elbows popped slightly as she pressed herself back against her headrest, exhaling shakily. Elizabeth eyed him and swallowed lightly, "Oh yeah, try big ass, Jewish family dinners. I'm always sexting between dreidels and Hannukah gelt. It gets mad sexy." She rolled her eyes, returning to her previous tone in the conversation. Liz winced and chortled, "Yeah, I don't want to be reminded of that, it was a fucking weird movie; I'm grateful it helped get me in the running for other things but, shit!" She shook her head, hissing slightly as she relaxed and set off once the lights changed, "I really don't want any of my fans to see that. Oh wait, is it because of the teeth? Are you having major flashbacks to that vagina-bal movie Megan Fox made? The goddamn vag had teeth!" The blonde let out a semi-belly laugh and she nodded, "I hear that! I won't tell him but, it's possible he did! But, I wanna give him the benefit of the doubt, my opinion on micro penises is pretty clear." Flicking her blinker to signal they were turning, Elizabeth shrugged a little, "Woody knows how I feel about him. We just both wanted to make out on The Mockingjay set, we managed to get it in. Not it in me, just to be clear. But, sure, we can handle the topic of icing like two mature adults..." She smirked across at him.

“Who was saying anything about shoving it up your ass?” Sebastian stared at her and chuckled, “bananas are just that - fruit. I don’t think that sex-ed really made a difference. Or did your friends have you suck on one, too, to make a point?” Elizabeth really was one of a kind, he thought, with every tease he gave her, he got one in reply, and with each quip, he received a better one back, too. “Well, I wouldn’t want to give my secrets away all too easily - otherwise you’ll lose interest right away.” Ah, and there it was - the line had been set, and he nodded and shut up, letting her gather her thoughts. It was easy to play, but difficult to follow through with hit all, and perhaps it was better, when they knew where the line actually was. „As long as the gefillte fish doesn’t get you all hot and bothered, I’m fine with that kind of mental imagine, sweetheart. Whatever gets you going, I suppose.“ Sexting wasn’t his style, he liked seeing someone’s reaction to his flirting and teasing, and liked to do something about opportunities, as they turned up. „If that was the weirdest thing you did, you’re good, I think - there are much odder things out there you could have gotten into.“ Elizabeth drove the way she talked, without abandon, or remorse, and Sebastian gripped the sidebar on the door tightly, when she rounded a corner. „Oh, don’t remind me of that one... it almost turned me off women,“ he laughed, and shook his head - of course it hadn’t, but vaginas with teeth had followed him into his sleep for a while. „What is your opinion on micropenises? You cannot leave me, or them, hanging now.“ Woody was a great guy in his eyes, and their friendship had seemed a little odd looking in from the outside, but getting to know her now he realised just why they were the way they were. It was funny how such polar opposites could be so great together. „I get what you mean, don’t worry - as for icing, sperm, juices, whatever you want to want to call it, I do think that there are preferences, and you should try out what you like, and avoid what you hate.“ Again, he shrugged - the topic wasn’t new to him, nor was it something disagreeable, so he was curious as to what she would do about it.

"I definitely wasn't talking about shoving anything in my ass. By peach, I meant my *peach*..." Elizabeth smirked, briefly gesturing to her crotch with her thumb, "Not really, I was a goody-two-shoes at school, and into college. You probably wouldn't think I was the same person. But, to answer that banana question, I have sucked one or two in my time." The blonde shook her head, "There is absolutely no way I'd lose interest, I'll pry those secrets out of you somehow; whether it's through your stomach or literally sucking it out of you." She beamed, a sweetly devilish smile, one that displayed an entirely put together lady while bubbling under the shiny veneer was something altogether crude. Elizabeth whistled and chuckled, "That's exactly the ticket the gets me going. That and matzah. And a few other things, non-Jew stuff." She flipped her shoulder nonchalantly. Elizabeth wasn't sure what could qualify as weird shit but, she'd done her fair share of 'weird' or mildly inappropriate stuff, "There was that time I got off with a shower head in a tub full of bubbles for Steve Carrel. He's no America's ass but, he's good fun." She smirked and glanced sideways to Sebastian when she brought up Chris Evans. Liz made a strangled sound as she heard Sebastian's query about micro penises, "Do they even hang...?" She asked incredulously, "I didn't think there'd be enough to dangle." After a brief pause, she responded to his question, rounding another corner, "I mean, it's better to not have one. Size matters, right?" Pulling onto a miniature spruce lined driveway, Elizabeth smiled and nodded, "I agree, sometimes it's pretty hard to stay away from you hate, though. That shit gets everywhere, as you probably know."

Sebastian's eyebrows shot up, and he gave a little sound of confusion. "We either need to stop using fruit metaphors, or relying on what millenials think emojis mean nowadays," he finally said, and shook his head, albeit with a small smile. "We all evolve at some point... no one is just born this way in all aspects of life." All that fruit talk made him want to actually have all the fruits, real fruits, and his stomach growled a little at the thought. "I'm not sure you'll be able to -" Although he did raise his eyebrows at the sucking part. It was funny how much of a dichotomy she was, full of contrasts, and yet, they all fit her quite well. Elizabeth, most of all, seemed entirely comfortable in her own skin, and she looked the part, too. "What kin dof other things?" he asked, suddenly curious. "Wait, Steve Carrell?" Now there was a name he hadn't associated with her, or with anything remotely sexual. He had done the forty year virgin thing, after all, hadn't he? At the mention of Chris's arse, he gave a little shrug - perhaps he'll discuss that one day, but definitely not now. "Perhaps they do, depends on how big the micro is, I suppose? Also, to look at the other extreme, having a dangling dick might really hurt at some point. Chafe, too." Sebastian was somewhere in between, and happy with what he had - to him, it didn't only matter how well hung one was, but what they could do with it. There was skill and then there was art, after all, in anything, even getting someone else off. Looking up, he realised they had arrived, and relaxed against the seat. "Size matters to some degree, skill matters more. And if you hate something enough, you'll stay away from it easily - you just don't want it." He shrugged. "Is that your home? It's pretty." Now, he was truly curious about her girls' day.

FIN

#dat's my bread #seb

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