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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

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Persephone's Symphony | Night One | Persephone

Hey lovelies, here's the next part. It's a little longer-- I got carried which, if you know me and my work, tends to happen frequently. I do hope you all enjoy and thank you so much to everyone who has sent me kind words and thoughts and ahhhh thank you!! I am forever grateful. Now, without further adieu...

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: meh some angst, some talk of death-- the normal for this series

Word count: 5.2k (omg)

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Master List

The rest of the day goes smoothly. Well, as smoothly as a day can go when there’s someone out there trying to kill you. Maybe smooth is the wrong word. For dinner she pops a frozen pizza in the oven— she’s already used up her quota for homestyle cooking on the grilled cheese and, besides, Bucky doesn’t seem to mind. If he does then he doesn’t say anything about it, at least. He pounds back five slices— she really doubts he hates it that much. She eats three. Had it just been her she would have eaten one— maybe. She doesn’t have the energy these days to eat more than that. It’s a paradox, one that has her going to bed tired and waking up exhausted most days.

Something is different with him though. She wants to eat more because it means that she gets to sit a little longer at the creaky wooden table and pretend to be normal. She never thought feeling normal would mean eating cheap pizza with her bodyguard in a safe house but, well, they say normal is relative, right? Usually she eats in the dark, under the glow of whatever movie she deems fit to fill the silence that night. Sitting across from him makes her feel like she has some semblance of her old life back. Like she has a life at all— even if he’s being paid to sit there and listen to her prattle on about nothing.

After dinner is a little more awkward. She spends the next two hours milling about, pretending to read this book of dogs she had found earlier on the coffee table. She had always wanted a dog when she was younger, one of those huge great danes, charcoal black and big enough to snuggle with. The kind that would keep her safe and follow her everywhere she goes. There’s one just like she had always imagined on page one hundred and nine. Sleek and beautiful and huge. That’s probably why she keeps going back to the book.

All she really does is look at the pictures, not that she would tell him that. She can see him glancing at her every so often and she would like to keep her guise of being smart up for as long as possible. She wasn’t lying when she told him that she was the top of her class— she was, and valedictorian too. She is smart. Well, smart when it comes to technology at least. The rest is debatable. Her mother used to tell her that she’s book smart— that if she were kidnapped and dropped off in the middle of nowhere she would be screwed.

If only her mother could see her now— could see that she’s holding up.

You know, if holding up means wanting to scream and cry and throw this stupid Big Book of Dogs against the wall because she can’t scream and cry. She’s holding up on the outside— that’s what matters. If everyday is as bearable as this one then she’ll be able to do all three before she knows it. She’ll be able to sit in the dark, spoon in one hand, Chunky Monkey in the other, and throw whatever the fuck she wants at the wall. For now, though, she just has to look at the pictures of the great dane and swallow her screams like they’re ice cream.

Eventually she stands, shifting on her feet, trying not to cringe when the boards squeak under her. It doesn’t make his head turn and look at her— how can it when his stare has been burning into her since before she stood up? She doesn’t really know what to say— it’s nine-thirty and she could sit there for another two hours— two or three or seven, what’s the difference?— but there’s no point in pushing the inevitable. Eventually she is going to have to get ready for bed and then, by default, actually go to bed.

How is that going to work?

A picture of her laying next to him pops into her mind, one where her limbs are curled tight against her chest, her legs ramrod straight, afraid to even do so much as breathe. Not out of fear that he’d hurt her or anything like that, though. Out of fear that she’d embarrass herself is more accurate. That she would wake up— if she even slept at all— with her body sprawled on top of his like the protagonists in one of her cheesy, unrealistic rom-coms. This isn’t a movie— she doesn’t want it to be. If this is her life’s movie then she wants to have a word with the director. She wants out. This isn’t the script she agreed to.

She doesn’t know what to say so she doesn’t say anything, only gathers her bag from where she stashed it next to the couch. A threadbare messenger bag big enough for a few pairs of leggings, her older brother’s Dodgers t-shirt, and some toiletries. She slings it over her shoulder, acutely aware of the fact that his gaze never leaves her, watching as she straightens and turns, meeting his icy blue eyes without so much as a hint of shame forming in them. Why should he be ashamed? It’s his job— he’s being paid to stare. That’s what she tells herself. It doesn’t make her feel any less exposed— any less seen.

For a moment she just looks at him— like really, truly looks at him. Sure, she’s been with him for roughly twelve hours now. Theoretically she’s had plenty of time to look at him. And of course she has— there’s no way she could have avoided it even if she wanted to. She has looked at him just not like this. Not the details. The facts. That’s what this is— a fact finding mission. Yeah, that sounds right— that’s what she’ll say if he asks, at least.

She takes in his face first, craning her neck slightly to do so. Slightly means far enough that your head touches your shoulders now. She ticks things off in her head as goes— bronzed skin, strong jaw, straight nose. She finds it hard to believe that his nose has never been broken. She drops lower— pink lips, the bottom one fuller. She doesn’t linger there despite the ache that grows in her throat. When was the last time she kissed a man? Too long ago.

She continues on her mission before she has time to stop and think about what it means to stare at her bodyguard’s lips and think about kissing. Absolutely nothing good, that’s what. She tries to distract herself with his broad shoulders and the way his henley stretches at the seams, scrounging for any and every ounce of space. For a moment it works. She starts thinking about the kind of regime one would have to undergo in order to get to his size, then about where he has to buy his clothes, before finally landing on what it would feel like to slip her arms into his shirt and to be totally engulfed—

Nope— she flicks her eyes even further down, skimming over something that, though she’s been looking at it for the better half of all day, she still can’t wrap her head around. His hand. His metal hand. She can feel his stare turn to lead on her forehead— feel him waiting for her to ask.

She’s not going to.

Not because she doesn’t want to know the story. Of course she wants to know! Her whole life is— or at least was— technology. She wants to know why he needs it, who made it, what it’s made of, if it’s connected to his nervous system, if it’s— the idea is there. She’s curious— she’s a scientist. Just like it’s his job to keep her alive, it’s her job to be enthralled by innovation.

That doesn’t mean she’s going to ask though. She likes him too much to do that. He’s nice enough to her and he doesn’t treat her like the little orphan girl that everyone else does. He doesn’t tiptoe around her— not that he could. He’s too big for that. He just doesn’t treat her like a freak, so she won’t treat him like an experiment.

And, of course, he’s a human being not a machine. That’s probably more important. She likes him and he’s a human. Priorities or whatever.

She meets his gaze again, watching him watch her, her face setting on fire. “Bedtime?”

What the fuck is wrong with you, y/n?

He presses his lips together, holding her stare for a beat before shrugging his shoulders, giving the henley a run for its money. “Bedtime.”

She turns at that, scampering up the stairs, listening to the thumping of his boots against the hardwood. It’s not a race but it’s also not not a race— she wants to get to the bathroom before he can so she can lock the door. She needs five minutes. That’s it. Just five minutes. Maybe it is a race.

“Hey— shit— wait!” She doesn’t, she only pumps her legs harder, almost slipping as she bolts into the bathroom, slamming the door and clicking the lock shut.

He really thought she wasn’t going to try that, huh? She learned her lesson this afternoon— the man takes his job very seriously.

The knob jiggles and she sticks her tongue out at it, finally in a space where she can let her bones relax. For the first time all day it feels like her skin isn’t on fire. It’s weird— she almost misses it. The door handle jiggles harder. Almost.

Five minutes, that’s all she needs.

His voice cuts through the door and she almost groans out loud. “You know I’m supposed to—”

“I know—” she starts pulling things out of her bag, hastily dropping what she doesn’t need and gathering what she does onto the vinyl countertop, very much aware of the ticking clock— “but the window in here isn’t even big enough for me to crawl out of so I think I can brush my teeth, yeah?”

She can practically feel the stress rolling off him, seeping under the crack between the door and the tiled floor. Half of her feels guilty but the other half couldn’t care less— she’s a grown ass woman and she will use the toilet without help.

She hears him let out a loud sigh and practically jumps in excitement— she won. “Fine— you get ten minutes, got it? Ten minutes and then I break this door down.”

“Aye-aye, captain.” Thank gods he can’t see her right now or she would most definitely melt through the ground.

“You’re down to seven now.”

She shakes her head at her reflection, scrunching her nose and rolling her eyes at herself— “That’s fair.”

She hurries to slather some toothpaste on her brush, plopping it into her mouth as she shimmies out of her daytime leggings and into her nighttime ones. A fashion icon. She somehow also manages to take her dad’s hoodie off, avoiding the toothbrush and replacing the tank top underneath with a fresh one from her bag. Take that, Barnes.

She scrubs at her teeth, simultaneously digging through her pile of things for the deodorant she knows is in there. She finds it after a moment, rinsing her mouth and running the bar one too many times over her armpits— there’s absolutely no way she’s about to go into that bedroom with even the slight possibility of smelling bad. Especially when she still doesn’t know the sleeping arrangements.

She swipes her things back into her bag, shoving them in roughly, not noticing the hairbrush teetering precariously on the edge of the counter. It’s like it’s taunting her, just waiting to get her in trouble. That’s exactly what it does, too— just as her eyes meet the sinister blue plastic it’s too late, the brush already hurtling off the edge and crashing against the floor. Of course it has to hit the tiles head on and miss the hoodie by an inch. Time freezes for a moment when she hears the clang— well, there go the last three minutes of solitude.

She scrambles back just as the door slams open, fully expecting it but not any less startled, the area where the lock would be splintering into a million tiny pieces of wood— of dust— he pulverized the door! Her heart pounds furiously as Bucky surges forward, his jean clad legs pressing against her exposed shoulder, his body rigid as he does a full circle of the tiny bathroom, yanking back the shower curtain as if an assassin would really think that is the best hiding place. God she’s so fucking mortified.

He doesn’t move away from her when he finally looks down, his dark eyebrows drawn into a tight line, chest heaving so hard she wonders if the material is going to split right down the middle. His leg against her is hot, even through the material. Almost as hot as her face— face, neck, shoulders, toes.

“What happened?”

She meekly holds up the blue plastic brush, squeezing her eyes shut. “He just snuck up on me Bucky— I thought I was a goner.”

She cracks an eye open to his clenched jaw, his still heaving chest now much lower— closer. He takes the brush from her hand, setting it on the counter before offering his own hand— the flesh hand— out to her. She takes it, letting him effortlessly pull her body from the ground without so much as even a grunt. Before she knows it she’s eye level with the buttons on his shirt, leaning all the way back in order to meet his simmering crystal eyes.

“We’re not doing that again.” We’re. As in both of them— a team.

She tries to keep from trembling at his deep voice. It doesn’t work. He notices— of course he notices— and takes a step back. She doesn’t have the heart— or the gall— to tell him that she’s not shaking because she’s afraid of him.

“It was a hairbrush.” She sighs, curling her arms around her chest, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever under the surprisingly bright fluorescents.

Of course now, when she’s standing in a flimsy tank top, is the one time the lights aren’t dimmed.

He doesn’t back down, seething his words between his teeth. “This time— this time it was a hairbrush.”

She shakes her head, dropping her eyes and bending to scoop up her hoodie— she doesn’t want to see him angry at her. It makes her feel guilty; like her her chest is caving in on itself. She doesn’t need that on top of everything else.

“Fine, whatever.” She grabs her bag, brushing by him.

She knows that she’s being childish. She isn’t an idiot, contrary to what her mind likes to tell her. She’s just exhausted. Exhausted of having to always look over her shoulder, exhausted of wondering who’s going to die next— if she’s going to die next, exhausted of having to actively try to stay alive. She’s just exhausted in general. She doesn’t want to die but, gods, if she isn’t so damn tired of having to think about it. Aren’t you supposed to just live? Not think about living?

She pushes open the door to the bedroom, dumping her bag next to the cedar chest at the end of the bed, refusing to turn around when she hears his footsteps— much quieter than she’s yet to hear them— enter behind her. She crosses her arms again, digging her fingers into the flesh hard enough to give herself something to focus on other than how much she wants to rip every strand of hair from her head. Her eyes wander over the olive duvet, noting how the color makes the black iron frame pop in contrast. Maybe she should change up her bedroom back home.

She bites her lip— she’s stalling. It’s a queen sized bed, more than big enough for both of them. Maybe she should offer it to him. There’s barely any room on the floor to sprawl out, only a small space either next to the dresser beside the bed or in front of the chest. Either way he would probably have to lay as stiff as possible to avoid bumping his limbs. The right thing to do would be to offer it to him— to take the floor.

She listens as he takes a step, the air behind her shifting, and she tenses. “Look, I think we should talk—”

“Do you want the bed?” She tries to keep her tone balanced— to keep from hurling the words at him like daggers. Or like hair brushes.

“I’m serious, I’m sor—”

She whirls around, her hair flying around her face, features schooled but tone edging closer towards being unhinged— she just needs to sleep. “Do you want the bed?”

She doesn’t meet his eyes— she’s tired of that game, it's time to start a new one. This one’s called how long can y/n stare at the buttons on his henley until before she sets them on fire out of sheer willpower. His chest deflates, his hands twitching at his sides before curling and slipping behind his back. He’s looking at her— of course he is. It’s all he does. It’s his job.

“You take it.” He says it so quietly she barely hears it, his tone the picture of resignation. It doesn’t make her feel good— she didn’t think it would though.

His stare never leaves her. She’s still not looking at him but she can tell. It makes her skin burn from her ears all the way down to her chest, her skin prickling like she's being prodded by a thousand mini suns. She feels like she’s in the desert and she forgot to put sunscreen on. Is this what flowers feel like? Does the sun beat down so relentlessly on them that they feel like they’re being set on fire? As relentlessly as he watches her?

It’s his job, it’s his job, it’s his job.

“Okay.”

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

She lays in bed for three hours, eyes wide open and body pin straight. The room is pitch black, spare a hint of light pouring in from under the door. It shines a stripe onto the olive duvet, one that she just barely flicks her wrist back and forth through. Not enough to ruffle the loud blanket— which for the record crinkles louder than a chip bag when she moves even an inch underneath it— but enough to watch the light dance over her skin and keep her from going completely mad. She feels like a cat chasing a laser— entirely moronic but strangely entertained. Alas, all good things must come to an end.

By the time the fourth hour rolls around she is beyond restless. The strip of light got old a half hour ago— which, granted, kept her entertained for far longer than she would be willing to admit but still. Now she wants to move. She needs to move. If she were home she would still be awake. The digital clock beside the bed flashes one-thirty, scarlet red and glaring at her. It’s not even close to the ungodly hour in which she usually crawls into her bed, pulling the blanket over her head and praying for the sun to magically disappear. Not even close.

She can practically hear Lindsy Lohan calling her name— it’s Wednesday, y/n. On Wednesdays we wear pink. Yeah, she knows Lindsy! Unfortunately the big man on the floor doesn’t know that. Usually her Wednesday's aren’t so blocked— is it even Wednesday? It doesn’t matter. She just wants to watch Mean Girls now— with or without the Chunky Monkey.

She waits another ten minutes, mulling the idea over as the anticipation steadily grows in her stomach, churning her organs into soup over the idea of having to tiptoe past her sleeping bodyguard. She holds her breath a few times, making sure his breathing is even and calm. Making sure that he’s asleep. Each time his breaths are the same, gentle, even hiss of air. In, out, pause. In, out, pause. Over and over and over again. For a moment she debates staying and just listening to him breathe for the rest of the night. But no— that’s creepy and she’s sure that she can be in and out without him waking up in the hour and thirty-seven minutes it takes to watch the movie.

Yes she counted and every minute is worth the risk— she’s doing it!

She takes a deep breath, sliding as silently as she can under the covers. Each movement feels magnified— like someone is holding a microphone to her limbs. She just prays that the microphone isn’t connected to his ears. What are the odds that he’s a heavy sleeper? Nevermind, she doesn’t want to know.

After what feels like an eternity of inching her way to the edge of the bed her foot finally shoots over the edge, greeting the chilly air and sending a jolt racing up her spine. She’s really doing it. She slips the other out next, rising onto her elbows and holding the position. She can’t see her legs— hell, she can’t see her hand two feet in front of her face— but she can feel the space depleting as she slips off the mattress. Biting back a hiss as her toes brace against the hardwood, she just barely stops herself from hopping up and down. If she were home she would amp up the theatrics, maybe throw in a squeal for good measure— forget technology, being a drama queen is her true calling.

Just not when there’s a man who she needs to stay asleep laying a few feet away from her.

She shuffles blindly forward, trying to remember where she saw him lay down before she turned off the lamp. That was four hours ago though and she’s starting to think that all that time playing with the crack of light has fried her brain. She thinks he’s near the chest but she can’t be sure.

She could swear—she could drop the loudest f-bomb this planet has ever known. She would, too, if she knew it wouldn’t wake him up. All she wants to do is watch some petty, pretty girls fight over a mediocre brunette. Is that really too much to ask for?

No— the answer is no. So she does what any self respecting woman would do in that situation and she wings it. She guesses. That’s respectable, right? Right. She takes each step with care, searching for any warm spots that might give her a hint as to where he is, all the while chasing after that little crack of light like it’s heaven. Because that’s what it is— a haven from having to lay alone with her thoughts all night.

As was to be expected sooner rather than later, her toes brush against a rather hot patch of wood and she freezes. He’s here— somewhere— she just has no idea where here is. She squints, searching for even a hint of the man. When she comes away with nothing, the scream— the one that’s never quite gone, always just simmering in the back of her throat— surges. She has to swallow— swallow, gag, same thing— in order to keep from foiling her own plan.

She brushes her foot forward. Slowly. Painfully, excruciatingly slowly. When her toes brush against the folds of a blanket she gasps. It slips out before she can stop it and she plasters a hand over her mouth as soon as it happens, praying that it isn’t too late— that there’s still a chance she can make it.

She hears Bucky shift on the ground, holding her breath, her toes a mere foot away from the soldier. She counts in her head— one, two, three, oh fuck is he moving, four— before taking another step. Repeating the process, it takes four rounds of this little tip toe game until her hands finally land against the door frame, searching through the darkness until her fingers curl around the knob. Mean Girls here she comes.

“Where ya’ going?” Bucky’s voice cuts through the night easily, rich and deep and cruel.

There isn’t even a hint of sleep in his tone— he was awake the entire time. Her face flushes, her neck searing hot. She can almost hear her skin crackling where the straps of her tank top touch her. She should have known he wouldn’t be a deep sleeper— or sleeping at all, apparently. Damnit.

“I, ah, was just going to the bathroom?” Really? The bathroom?

She has never been so thankful for the dark than she is in this moment, if only because he can’t see the way she rolls her eyes at her own stupidity and scrunches her entire face up. She can’t scream— that idea’s already been scrapped— so it’s the next best thing. That doesn’t stop her throat from bubbling though, the frustration knocking on her windpipe like the friendly neighbour back for even more sugar.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” She swears for a moment she can hear a hint of laughter in his voice, just enough to make the accusation bearable.

She whirls around, hands glued to her hips and trying not to slam her foot down like an insolent toddler. Something hot flares up in her chest— something which she hasn’t felt in ages. Anger. It makes her want to smack him. She wouldn’t, of course, but she wants to— she wants to wipe the smirk out of his words. She wants to more than she’s wanted to do anything in a very long time.

“What do you want me to say then, hmm?”

She can just make out the way Bucky pushes himself up, his shadowy figure now taking up more space. Taking up space in general— of course now she can see him. If she were closer to him she is sure his head would sit above her belly button, right under her brea— stop that, y/n!

“How ‘bout the truth?” God she can still hear that insufferable smirk.

“That was the truth.”

“It wasn’t.”

His breath comes in hot puffs against her stomach— he’s closer than she thought. She doesn’t realize her tank top has ridden up until his face is inches away from her exposed skin. She tries not to shudder as she yanks the material back down her abdomen. Traitorous body!

She wants to rip her hair out— again. “Yes, it was—”

He’s standing now, pushing his way towards her in the dark until she can feel the heat rolling off his body, face to face with a hulking chest. “Just tell me what you want so we can do it, alright?”

There it is again— we.

She can’t breathe. This seems to be becoming a trend— her not being able to breathe when he’s around her. This time it’s her fault though. She squishes her eyes closed, taking a moment to pull in some much needed air. It does little to help her— it smells like nutmeg and cinnamon. She has no idea how he manages to smell like a bakery— or how she hasn’t noticed until now, when she needs more than anything to pull away from the warmth and not fall deeper into it. Unprofessional, y/n— you’re supposed to be the grieving daughter.

She takes another moment, ignoring how he shifts on his feet, clearly becoming impatient, before finally whispering— “I wanted to watch a movie.”

A pause— a long one— before a soft ‘okay’.

For a moment she thinks she hears him wrong— no way the giant soldier is down for movie night with her. Shouldn’t he be telling her to go back to bed? Telling her that it isn’t in his job description to babysit her— to keep her entertained? Surely he doesn’t actually want to watch a movie.

“You don’t have to—”

“Actually, I do.” Oh yeah. He has to follow her wherever she goes. She almost forgot that she might die.

Die for what— wanting to watch a god damn movie?

“Forget it— it was stupid.”

She goes to brush past him, tucking her shoulders up and into her neck, trying to put some space between them as she tucks tail and slips back towards the bed. Talk about a busted ego.

A hand curls around her forearm, halting her retreat. “Let’s watch a movie— can’t sleep anyway.”

She swallows thickly. If she were to turn her cheek a few inches she is sure it would brush against his shoulder.

“Are you sure?”

“‘Course I am.”

She nods— she knows he can’t see her but she doesn’t trust her voice— and that’s how she ends up watching Mean Girls with a man large enough to rip her in half with his bare hands. A few times she glances over at him, searching through the glow of the TV to the other side of the supple leather couch where his gaze remains locked on the screen. She’s even sure she hears a few breathy laughs— like he’s trying not to laugh but he can’t help it.

The big bad bodyguard likes chick flicks.

About halfway through something unexpected happens— her eyelids begin to heavy. It’s stange, the clock on the wall reads only slightly past two in the morning. She never sleeps before six. Regardless, though, she curls her legs into her body, tucking them under the hoodie she had replaced before leaving the room. Her head slopes against the arm of the couch, eyes fluttering a few times before dropping shut. She’s not going to sleep, obviously— just resting her eyes.

She feels something heavy pool on her lap and the faintest wisps of fingers— some warm and some cold— adjusting the new weight. It brushes against her shin— a blanket. He put a blanket on her. She pulls it closer, dragging it over her cheek, trying her best to stave off the sleep tugging at her limbs. Maybe a conversation will help. There are a few things she’s been meaning to tell him.

“I didn’t mind it.” She whispers it but she’s sure he can hear her over the all but muted TV.

The couch cushions shift, sinking for a moment before stilling. She can picture him facing her now, his head tilted, blue eyes serious. Always on alert, always ready to defend.

“What?” He even sounds defensive— like he’s waiting for her to drop a bomb on him.

Silly man, can’t you see that she can barely even force the last word out of her mouth with how tired she is?

“Doll. I—” she yawns, pulling her limbs closer to her, tucking a hand under her head— “I didn’t mind it.”

He doesn’t say anything right away. If it were daytime she’s sure she would have cared but for now she’s okay not feeling any of the prescribed embarrassment.

“Oh.”

She doesn’t say anything else, only snuggles deeper into the arm of the couch. It must be the exhaustion talking— that’s what she’ll tell herself tomorrow anyway when she’s forced to confront this conversation again. For now she just gives in, letting herself fall into the darkness without fear for what feels like the first time in months.

_________________

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license @dumble-daddy @hellotvshowtrash @thesummerbucky @elijahs-wife @cari1bunny @im-just-star-dust

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #mcu #mcu fic #mcu imagine #marvel cinematic universe #marvel cinematic universe fic #reader insert #Persephone's Symphony

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pressedinthepages · 4 years ago

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Family Business

Chapter 3: Date Night

A/N: Whoops, our hands slipped. Myself and Margaret (@sometimesiwrite) have completed another chapter about these two silly boys! In this episode, Eskel sees a new side to Julian, and they finally are able to go on their first real date. But will all go as planned? Only time will tell.

also, I, Erica, will not apologize for making Lambert extra sexy.

Warnings: discussion of past death of a loved one, super soft flirting, loss, mourning, brief mention of religious-based homophobia, slightly NSFW texting (nothing explicit), unnamed character being an ass to a hostess, maybe...another k*ss?

Previous chapter: Here! Erica’s Masterlist: Here! Margot’s Masterlist: Here!

ENJOY!

Eskel’s phone vibrated in his pocket as he passed a latte to the last customer of the breakfast rush. It was 10:24. Perfect. Plenty of time to clean up, check the espresso, and… take a look at the notification he knew was waiting for him on his lock screen. He checked around as he rinsed the cloth for the steaming wand and wiped the countertops. Geralt was sipping away at a glass of ginger-apple-kale juice (typical), and Lambert was busy cleaning off the panini press, apparently hellbent on breathing in as much of the cheesy bread fumes as possible (he always did love the smell of a grill top). No new customers. All clear. Eskel pulled out his phone and saw a text notification—Julian.

Still up for helping out? I am...stressing.

Eskel smiled at his phone screen and thumbed in his passcode. I’ll see what I can do, but as you know, Lambert had to dress me yesterday so… you have fair warning.

Three little dots floated on the screen. Julian was typing. Eskel glanced around to make sure no one was waiting for help and that Lambert was minding his fucking business.

Ok, option one:

And then, an actual photograph of Julian sitting in front of his mirror wearing a tastefully loud dress shirt—black with white vines and flowers. As Eskel examined the photo more closely, he realized that the young man was also wearing a… a well-fitting pair of dark boxer briefs. Thankfully, the hand not holding the phone was resting in his lap and obscuring anything salacious. Eskel blushed bright red and immediately lowered his phone. He breathed out slowly. Okay. Okay! This is… this is okay. This is a normal adult thing to do. Eskel’s mouth was very dry as his phone pinged again. There was no reason to be feeling embarrassed or… Then again, maybe he hadn’t meant anything by it. After all, Julian was younger, less inhibited, had fewer hangups about modesty. And even if he did mean to be an absolute scoundrel, this was… healthy. Yeah. Healthy. Eskel arrived at the conclusion that, at the very least, Julian trusted him, and he clung to that as he opened his phone back up, desperately wishing he wasn’t at work.

And option two:

Now Julian had on a pair of pants, thank Christ. But Eskel couldn’t help but laugh. They were bright red corduroy bell-bottoms and potentially the most atrocious things he’d ever laid eyes on, even with his self-reported lack of fashion sense. Julian was also sporting a navy vest. But this was no ordinary, everyday, run-of-the-mill kind of vest: it was decorated with large jewel-tone flowers emulating stained glass, and covered so much of the base colour it was barely visible. What was perfectly visible was Julian’s bare torso underneath. Arms, shoulders, and the top of his chest were on full display, while a coquettish tilt of his head gracefully extended his neck. Jesus. Eskel could just make out the crease and dimple of a grin on the side of Julian’s face in the mirror as he turned his head away. You cheeky little bastard.

Eskel’s fingers hovered over the keypad for a moment before settling on a reply. He didn’t want to encourage him too much and risk an… awkward situation at work. On the other hand, he still deserved a little credit for boldness. Well, those are two very different options Julian.

Julian’s reply was almost instant. I CAN HEAR YOUR JUDGEMENT FROM HERE.

Eskel chuckled, Only of your fashion choices, I assure you ;)

Meanwhile, across town, Julian gaped at his phone in amused surprise. He...that bastard winked at me...good. Julian looked over the piles of sequins, florals, polyester, and lycra he’d stripped out of his closet, feeling quite pleased with himself. His eyes tracked to the one chair in his bedroom on which he’d carefully draped his already-ironed outfit for that evening. (Oh come on, give me some credit. I’m not completely helpless. I know how to dress for a date).

Julian shucked off the pants, a favorite, and let the vest fall to the floor. He carefully pulled out a pair of bright, sparkly golden boots and zipped them up to his knees before striding back to the mirror. He snapped a quick picture, cropping it to show just enough and still be considerate of the recipient. His phone shwooped it back to Eskel, and Julian worried his bottom lip while he waited for a reply. Had it been too much?

Eskel’s phone buzzed in his pocket as he handed a coffee and a muffin to a customer. He reticently reached into his pocket. How far was he going to take this? His heart beat a little faster as he opened his phone to reveal the photo. “Yup okay, that’s…” He closed his phone and leaned heavily on the counter, exhaling a little too intentionally.

“Mouth a little dry?” Geralt was beside him holding a glass of water with a slice of cucumber happily floating inside.

“I—what? No, I’m…”

“Texting with the Boy? Just drink the damn water and try to keep it cool.”

“Yeah, that’s great advice, Geralt, thank you.” He drained the water in a few gulps and heavily set the glass back on the steel counter, “Jesus.”

Geralt said nothing, but took the glass away, giving his brother an encouraging pat on the back. His amused laughter was audible, though, as he grabbed his iPad for inventory.

Eskel took a deep breath and opened his phone again: Perfect. You’ll fit right in.

Eskel sighed as the bell on the door chimed three times in quick succession, a line already forming as his new customers looked over the cold case. Right on time. His phone vibrated once more in his pocket while he started taking orders, and he stepped over to the espresso machine as Lambert took over the register.

***

Julian ran his hand through his hair, letting it flop artfully back down as he gave himself one last once-over. He had on a dark pair of jeans which he’d rolled up just high enough to show a peek of his bright fuschia socks, which somehow didn’t class with his red Doc Marten brogues. The shirt he’d actually chosen to wear was navy blue with red, fuschia, and turquoise plaid accents on the inside of the cuffs and collar, pearlescent buttons glinting down the front. He’d arranged his sleeves carefully for an optimal pop of colour, and he’d left just enough buttons open to be both casual and flattering—showing off a hint of chest hair and clavicle—while still being subtle.

Julian’s phone let out a muffled ding from...somewhere in the room. “Shit, where’d I put my…” He hadn’t heard back from Eskel all afternoon. He probably got busy, he told himself, but a part of him still couldn’t help but worry he’d pushed too far too soon. In his joyful impulsiveness, he’d lost track of the fact that they hadn’t really talked about anything—boundaries, preferences, that kind of thing. It made sense that they hadn’t, they’d only just had their first date (kind of). But after the fiasco of the previous night, he’d wanted Eskel to feel wanted, appreciated.

He eventually did find his phone, tucked just barely under the edge of his bed after a somewhat frantic shaky-handed scramble. How it ended up there, he’d never know. A text from Eskel blinked at him from the screen and Julian’s lips turned up in a soft smile as he unlocked his phone with a cold thumb.

Sorry for the late reply, had a bit of a busy day. Just finishing getting ready, can’t wait to see you :)

Julian held his phone to his chest and sighed, happy and relieved, turning to the mirror propped up against his closet door. “Okay, Jules. You can do this. He likes you. He kissed you. He was flirting with you this morning, and you did not scare him off. It’s just dinner. Everything’s gonna be great. It’s gonna be lovely food, and...wait, where are we going again?”

Right on time, his phone dinged again. Here’s the address for the restaurant. Should be about a fifteen minute walk from your place.

Great, thanks. See you soon :) Julian looked at his watch. Shit. “Okay. Time to go.” He paused with his hand on his doorknob, “Uhh, phone, wallet, keys… do I need a jacket? What temperature is it?” It was an awkward temperature. Jacket would be too warm. No jacket would be too cold. “Oh my God, fine, I’ll carry it.” With that, he locked the door behind him and clattered his way down the musty, worn stairs of his walkup and out onto the sidewalk.

Eskel nervously loosened his tie a little, not wanting to look too rigid, and adjusted his sleeves. “Okay. Okay, okay, okay. It’s just dinner. He likes you… Jesus, he better like me after all that.” He gave his hair a final mist of salt spray (he may have been out of touch with fashion, but the one thing he would always pride himself on was his hair). His mind wandered back to their kiss the previous night and felt a thrill tingle through him. It had been so unexpected and so… was heartfelt the right word? It had been passionate, but not just in a sexy way—though it had been that, too. Eskel was discovering that Julian was proving himself capable of a great amount of emotional depth as well as unbelievable cheek, and he was genuinely looking forward to seeing him again.

He glanced at his watch. Here’s the address for the restaurant. Should be about fifteen minutes from your place, he typed hastily, wanting to give Julian a grace period in case he really was struggling to figure out what to wear—though Eskel had strong suspicions that he already knew full well what he was planning on wearing and that the morning’s texts had been for his sake alone.

Eskel carefully pulled the tan jacket over his shoulders and peered around his living room in case he’d forgotten anything. His eyes landed on the framed photo above the fireplace. He took a tentative step forward, “Hey, Jo. You’re still lookin’ real good, you know that?” He took a few steps closer, and modeled his outfit. “Not bad, right? I’m, uh, listen, I’m going on a date tonight. I’ve met someone.”

He leaned against the mantle, hands resting on either side of the recently-dusted frame, a melancholy settling over him as he looked at the familiar face. He shok himself out of it, “I think you’d like him. A lot, actually. He’s, well he’s a lot of things, but he’s…he cares. And I think he could make me happy if I play my cards right.” He smiled, “Thought you’d want to know.” He glanced at his watch, “Alright. Wish me luck.”

He gave a loving wink to the photograph and turned to the door, feeling for his keys in his pocket before letting it lock behind him.

The breeze blew gently through his hair as he waited for Julian outside the restaurant, going over the list of Fun Things To Ask On A First Date in an article he had pulled up on his phone. It was a cool evening, but it was clear that winter had more or less had its last laugh: the crocuses were starting to come up in the planters on the sidewalk, and the air had that sweet smell that only came with warmer weather. A beam of sunshine illuminated the sidewalk and passersby as Eskel kept an eye out for his date. He wasn’t waiting long, though, and smiled wide as he caught a glimpse of well-coiffed chestnut hair and a flash of bright blue coming towards him.

Eskel greeted him with a kiss on each cheek, but he was quickly pulled into a firm hug. Julian pulled back so his blue eyes could give Eskel a proper once-over.“You look unbearably handsome, Eskel, how dare you.”

“Julian, you look very nice. Can’t help but notice you’ve worn, let’s see, none of the options you tormented me with this morning.”

“Are you disappointed?” Julian asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Nope,” Eskel replied simply, opening the door and letting his date enter first.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Julian cooed as he brushed past catching a whiff of mellow cologne—smokey and sweet with hints of cedar and maple. They were greeted by a young woman at the host stand who smiled gently at the two of them.

“Hey, Jess” Eskel smiled in return, carefully placing his hand at the small of Julian’s back.

“Eskel! It’s been a while since you’ve stopped in, I guess the cafe’s keeping you three pretty busy. I’m so glad it’s doing well!” Julian glanced back and forth between the two of them as the gears finally clicked into place. Jess led them to their table, tucked away in a private corner, and Julian slunk into the booth as she walked away.

“You didn’t tell me that this was your dad’s restaurant!?!?!” Julian hissed lightheartedly.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want you to think my whole family would be watching us,” Eskel cheeked as he filled Julian’s water glass from the carafe on the table, and was met with a quizzical look. “In all honesty, it’s one of the few places I can always get a table on short notice this late in the week. Besides, it’s comfortable.”

A few more gears clicked. Of course. This was a public place where he not only knew the staff, but also knew the space like it was his home: he’d worked the bar, served guests, hosted… He felt a sense of ownership and belonging. It didn’t matter whether people stared and whispered, because he knew the placement of every single piece of glassware and cutlery, and they didn’t. The restaurant itself was like family to him.

Julian nodded understandingly, and grinned as their server approached the table. He was tall, with honeyed skin and dark wavy hair, startlingly green eyes, and an impeccably-groomed goatee. “Hello there, can I interest either of you in any drinks to start off?”

They each ordered a glass of red wine and Eskel sat back, quietly observing his companion. Julian’s sea-blue eyes were flicking back and forth over the menu before him, his brow furrowed at the sheer number of different options, some of which contained ingredients printed in Italian.

“Can I make a recommendation?” Eskel cocked his head with a smirk.

Julian pursed his lips for a moment, glancing up at his date before gluing his eyes back to the menu. “Yes. I am terribly out of my depth.”

“I said the same thing to Lambert last night. Listen, why don’t I order for us, and we can both relax a little?”

Julian’s eyes swept over the menu one last time, “Please, God, yes.”

“Anything you don’t like, aside from spicy?” Eskel asked, taking Julian’s menu from his helpless hands.

“Not a huge fan of alfredos.”

“Well, that’s fine, we’re both drinking red and that doesn’t pair with cream sauce, I wouldn’t allow it, anyway,” he answered back. It was an offhanded comment, but Julian caught the radiant heat off Eskel’s flare of confidence as the restaurateur casually glanced over the menu. This was a different Eskel, completely in his element with absolutely no doubt in his mind that he was correct about every decision he was about to make. Julian wanted to jump across the booth and pick up where they’d left off the night before. Instead, he sipped his wine, savouring the palette as it tingled the back of his throat and warmed his stomach.

“You’re very sexy when you talk about wine pairings.”

Julian watched a pretty pink flush spill up Eskel’s chest and neck, just barely tinging his cheeks. Their server had impeccable timing, choosing that exact moment to make a beeline to their table. “And how are we doing over here? Ready to order?”

He may have been briefly flustered by Julian’s comment, but Eskel’s tone immediately shifted into that of a professional in his home environment, “We’ll start with the carpaccio with the truffle oil, please, and then I’ll have the penne calabrese, and he’ll do the spaghetti carbonara. And could we get a bread basket before the starter, please?”

“Of course. All delicious choices, I’ll get everything started for you.” Their server left them once again, and Eskel felt Julian’s fingers brush over the back of his hand.

“I don’t know how to explain this,” Julian murmured, barely loud enough for Eskel to hear, “but that was incredibly attractive.”

“What, ordering food?” Eskel laughed but didn’t move his hand away. Instead he let himself relax into Julian’s touch.

“Well, yes, but there was more to it.” The musician’s slender fingers gracefully coasted over the landscape of knuckles and veins—accentuated by years of pouring neatly from full bottles and carafes, and carrying water glasses and full plates. “It was your demeanour; the way you held yourself, looked out of your eyes, it all shifted a little. It was subtle, but it’s… sexy.”

Eskel smirked and leaned back in his seat, letting Julian’s fingers lazily fiddle with his, “Really?”

“Yes, really. It’s—you’re confident and in your element. You’re highly skilled.” Julian paused for a moment, scanning this new Eskel in his natural habitat, “You could take over and serve this entire restaurant if you needed to. Couldn’t you?”

“Easily,” Eskel answered, his brow set in easy certainty. His expression quickly softened into an easier smile, and he gave his date a little wink. “But don’t tell the—”

“So sorry to interrupt,” their server had glided his way over to the table with surprising stealth, “but the chef was wondering if he could have a word with you, Eskel.”

Eskel sighed, clearly having wanted to avoid playing Backup Owner for the night, “What, about the order? Or is it something else?”

Their server shook his head, his dark locks shaking over his forehead, “He wouldn’t say, just asked me to bring you back to him for a moment.”

Eskel deflated, looking conflictedly back to Julian. It was part of his life, being in the restaurant business meant being on-call almost any time during business hours for any number of things. Still, if this date was going anywhere meaningful, he didn’t want to start their entire relationship by abandoning him to tend to a work crisis. Julian reluctantly let his fingers drift away from Eskel’s hand, “Go on, I’ll be fine here, it sounds important. Just don’t get roped into working in the kitchen?”

“I may be a workaholic, but I’ve never once abandoned a date at the table. Back in a sec.” Eskel heaved himself out of the booth and followed the waiter around the dining room and through the doors to the kitchen, fully ready to step into his Owner’s Son Who Used To Work Here shoes.

However, it wasn’t the head chef waiting for him. It was… the owner’s son who used to work there.

“Hey! How’s it going out there?”

“Lambert. What are you doing here?”

“Well, you never let me wear my chef’s coat at the cafe, so-”

“Sorry, let me try again: what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Okay, okay, fine, I’m here to spy on your date. Happy?”

“Of course not!”

“You’re both looking good tonight. I mean his shirt? Bold, makes a statement, mature-yet-playful—although I have some questions about his taste in footwear. But hey-hey-hey, is he holding your hand? It looks like it, but I can’t see the wall side of the booth from the pass—”

“Lambert…” Eskel could have sworn he felt his hair actually bristling, “I cannot fucking believe you—that you would have the-the the audacity to think it would be appropriate to just—I mean, on a Thursday. How many people’s schedules did you have to mess up in order to work tonight?! Do you even remember how to be back here?”

“Please, I’m a professional. Like riding a bike.”

A metal spoon fell to the floor with a loud clatter and Eskel took a long, deep breath, “Listen, we’ll talk about this later—and believe me, we will talk about this later—but right now I have a very handsome, very thoughtful, very patient date (who does, in fact, have very soft hands), waiting for me in the dining room.”

“Okay, okay, go, I’ll text you later. But hey, hey, listen: you’re doing great, big guy. Really great. Love the menu for tonight. And the wine pairing? Ballsy to order the wine first but, damn, when you know, you know.”

“Thanks, Bert.”

“Go get ‘im, tiger!”

“Unbelievable,” Eskel muttered as he went towards the kitchen door. “Corner!”

Eskel strode back to their table, and found Julian looking intently at something in front of him, chewing on a slice of bread from the basket that now sat on the edge of the table. As Eskel got closer, he saw it was a phone, and immediately felt the lack of weight in his own pocket.

As if sensing him, Julian looked up, his eyes sparkling under the comfortable lighting in the booth. “W-pray tell, my chivalrous date,” he murmured as Eskel came to a hesitant stop at the edge of their seats, “why do you have a list of Fun Things To Ask On A Date?”

Eskel slowly, carefully slid into his seat across from Julian, feeling the tips of his ears starting to burn. “I-uh...found the article earlier...a-and, well, like you, I was feeling a little nervous... here, you know what, we can just forget you ever saw tha-”

He reached for his phone, but it was quickly held out of reach, “Oh, nononononono, we are so doing this,” Julian smiled wickedly, his chestnut hair flopping as his head bobbed with glee. Eskel dragged his hands up his cheeks and rubbed his eyes dejectedly, glancing around to see if any of their fellow restaurant goers could help free him from the private hell that was going to be the next twenty minutes.

“Question One: What’s one thing you want to ask me but you’re too nervous to?’ Ooooh starting dramatically,” Julian twinkled his fingers for punctuation.

“Oh God, do we really have to—”

“Oh yes. We do. Come on,” Julian waved him on in encouragement, “no wrong answers, I promise. Only a bit of fun.”

Eskel groaned, leaned back in his seat, and folded his hands in his lap. “Alright, fine. How old are you?”

“Twenty-six,” Julian answered without hesitation. “How old are you?”

Eskel grimaced, “Forty-two.”

“And yet you don’t look a day over thirty.”

“Hey, I work in customer service, I know a placation when I see it,” Eskel smirked playfully. “Let’s—can we move on to the next one?”

Julian grinned sympathetically, turning back to the screen. “Question 2: zodiac sign?”

“Hmm, late February, that’s Pisces, right?”

Julian smiled and nodded, “Indeed. I’m a Taurus. Stubborn-yet-endearing, thank you very much.”

“I don’t know all that much about star signs. What does all this mean?”

“Well, it means we’re compatible, in theory. Pisces are generally loyal, empathetic, intuitive, private… Taurus tends to be stubborn, patient—can be a little possessive, but I’m working on that. According to one horoscope, I apparently ‘dislike synthetic fabrics’ which is patently false as previously demonstrated by the contents of my closet.”

“Yes, and thank you for that, by the way. It was worth almost having a heart attack at work.”

Julian winked as he scrolled along down the list. “Glad you enjoyed that, because I know I certainly did. Now, what’s your lOvE lAnGuAgE?”

Eskel frowned, “What’s a ‘love language?’”

“Oh, it’s how you show and accept love. Here,” he opened the quiz on a new tab, “You can do it while I’m in the restroom.”

Eskel gratefully accepted his phone back and watched Julian meander his way to the men’s room. He breezed through the quiz questions, thinking he may as well be with his niece at a slumber party and wondering whether they were going to be playing Never Have I Ever next.

“Physical Touch, apparently,” he answered, pocketing his phone as Julian slid back into the booth.

“Well, we’re proving very compatible this evening. I’m the same. With some gifting thrown in from time to time. Where’d you put the phone?”

“You mean my phone? In my pocket.”

“Well, give it, I want to keep asking you questions!”

Eskel leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand, “No, I don’t think I will. Later. I want us to enjoy ourselves. Actually enjoy ourselves. And the carpaccio will be up soon.” As irritated as he was with his younger brother having commandeered the kitchen, he was looking forward to the promise of an impeccable dinner. He was feeling more relaxed now, largely thanks to the joyful enthusiasm of his date, but he didn’t want to rely solely on the dubious contents of a Cosmo quiz to make a meaningful connection. Julian let himself get lost in the freckled honey-nut-hazel and the secret sadness tucked behind them. Eskel, too, took the opportunity to look, really look, at Julian’s almost-too-blue and the subtle edge hiding amongst the kindness and charisma. And so they just...looked at each other for a moment. No pretense, no joking. Taking each other in.

Julian startled at the sudden sensation, but smiled as he realized Eskel had taken his hand. He’d broken their eye contact to make sure he didn’t knock anything over in the process, but now that he’d found his bearings, the cafe owner looked back across the table to his date, “You know, I… want this to work.”

The young musician’s eyes grew big and his cheeks flushed hot with the sudden outpouring of sincerity. He already cared about Eskel more than he thought he should after so short a time, and it was both a shock and a relief to know that Eskel might be experiencing the same thing. “W—I—”

“I know that it’s early. And I know there’s a lot we still don’t know about each other. And a lot that we’ll need to figure out, and maybe we won’t be what the other needs and that’s fine. We can always go our separate ways. But I want you to know that I’m… taking this seriously.”

Julian tried to put words together, but was cut off by the re-return of their overly-handsome waiter. A large plate of thinly-sliced raw beef tenderloin was presented, prompting an abrupt release of their hands. Eskel thanked the waiter, and Julian’s stomach rumbled as he scrambled a bit to close the gap in their conversation. But what could he say to that?

He intercepted Eskel’s hand on its way to a slice of bread, “Thank you. Really. I’m taking this seriously, too. I mean that.”

Eskel gave a small sideways smile, “Let’s eat.”

Julian carefully took a portion of the carpaccio, set it on his own little plate and took a bite, and oh god the most delightfully combination of flavours and textures met his tongue. They ate contentedly, not sharing many words, but also finding it hard to look away from each other. What an excellent evening. The food was exceptional, the wine was warm and bold—hell, the whole week had been so pleasantly unexpected that they both settled into a kind of trance.

After a few minutes and with not much appetizer left, Eskel topped off their water glasses. “Alright then, my turn,” he said, dusting his hands free of bread crumbs and wiping his mouth on his napkin.

Julian blinked and swallowed abruptly. “For…?”

“Picking the questions,” Eskel pulled his phone back out and kept it well within his grasp. “Come on, there are actually some good ones in here, believe it or not.”

Julian nodded and shrugged, “Ask away.”

Eskel cleared his throat as he scrolled through the list, finally settling on his three questions. He learned that Julian worked days at an artisanal candy shop in town where he was in charge of making marshmallow animals, which he clearly enjoyed as well as having the skill and patience to do. The next question revealed that Julian had an irrational hatred of polenta, and Eskel despised parsnip, citing that they “taste like carrots wearing perfume.” The final question turned the conversation to their childhoods which proved a little more serious. Julian, it turned out, had grown up in a small, predominantly Christian town. Needless to say, his well-meaning, churchgoing parents had had a difficult time adjusting to the fact that their one and only precious little angel was, in fact, undeniably homosexual.

Eskel’s phone found its place in his pocket once more while he collected his thoughts. “I’m sorry if that brought up any—”

“No no, it’s fine! It’s a part of my life, it made me who I am now.” Julian gently set his now-empty plate aside.

“Do you, uhm, are you still in touch?”

“With my parents, you mean? Yes. We had a bit of a rocky start when I came out, but once I shipped off to university and they had some time to think a little, we started over. It’s—they try. They don’t always get it right, but they try.”

“Could be worse, I suppose. Still...”

“Family’s what we make. Sometimes we’re born with family, and sometimes we find it. Sometimes it’s a bit of both. We’ve all come a long way in the last few years.”

“That’s good to hear, I’m happy that they’re able to be supportive.”

Julian nodded, stroking his thumb over the back of Eskel’s knuckles. “Enough of my sob story, your turn. Best part of your childhood.”

“Well, once we got old enough that Lambert wasn’t ‘the baby’ anymore, we started running around causing havoc. Of course, I always tried to keep the peace, but my brothers are fucking maniacs. It’s not that I never got into any mischief myself, I was always just...better at not getting caught. I don’t think that either of them know the definition of the word ‘subtle.’”

“No, not from what I’ve gathered,” Julian smirked as he cast a quick glance at the kitchen doors. Eskel followed his gaze and caught a hint of Lambert’s hair ducking out of view and he shook his head.

“Truly? He is the bane of my existence. I love him to death, but he may end up in the fucking wall tonight,” Eskel sighed, rubbing his weary face as Julian laughed brightly.

Their server came around with their main course, and refilled their wine glasses before leaving them to their dinner. “Now, I know it’s tempting to eat the whole thing,” Eskel began as he dusted fresh parmesan onto their plates from the little bowl between them, “but we do still have dessert. My advice: don’t be a hero. We can bring home leftovers.”

“You’re going to kill me with all of this,” Julian sighed as he spun his fork in the fresh spaghetti before slurping it up. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he tried hard not to make undignified noises at the dinner table. Eskel chuckled joyfully and ripped a slice of bread in half, dipping into some of the sauce. Julian thought if Eskel committed to their…. whatever this was… even half that much as he was committed to his food, he could count himself pretty damn lucky.

“Is this how you grew up eating? Just this? Casually? Every night?” Julian wondered aloud as he continued to stuff his face as gracefully as he could.

Eskel shrugged, “More or less. Of course, we dress it up for the restaurant, and it wasn’t always pasta. Same idea though, especially when Ma was still around. Pops is pretty protective of the recipes nowadays.”

“He’s very protective of all his children, then,” Julian winked, twirling his fork for another mouthful of pasta. “When did—I mean, if you don’t mind the question, when exactly did your mum… uh?”

Eskel smiled, “No, I don’t mind. Geralt was ten, I was nine, Lambert was… five I think? He doesn’t remember much, bits-and-pieces here and there, but Pops gets out the photo albums once a year on Christmas.”

“Wow, so he like, raised you.”

“Pretty much,” Eskel nodded proudly. “He stepped up well. Of course, everybody makes mistakes. But here we are! He kept us all alive, and that wasn’t an easy feat.”

Julian shook his head with a laugh, “No, I bet not. I imagine he’s proud of you, though.”

Eskel shrugged, “Yeah. We try not to bring too much shame on the family.” A little hazel-eyed wink lightened the mood and the two continued to enjoy their meal and each others’ company. Eventually, Julian pushed his plate back.

“I absolutely cannot eat anymore if I’m going to have dessert. This was delicious.”

“I’m glad you liked it. It’s a favourite of mine.” Eskel got the attention of their waiter, “Could we get these boxed up please?”

“Absolutely. Any interest in dessert?”

“Two espressos and a tiramisu, please. And two spoons. Thanks.”

As they waited for their dessert, Julian reached across the table, waggling his fingers for Eskel’s phone. “My turn, please!”

Eskel begrudgingly handed Julian his phone, and he immediately opened the page back up. “Are you… a morning or a night person?”

“Night. I hate mornings.”

“Ironic, since you chose to open a coffee shop.”

“I know. I still haven’t forgiven myself. You?”

“I can be a morning person if I need to be, but I prefer staying up late. I write better in the evenings.”

“You have about a minute and a half before the espresso gets here,” Eskel said with a smirk, his ears having pricked at the sound of the espresso grinder kicking on.

“Okay, okay. Last one: why didn’t your last relationship work?”

Eskel went quiet. Cleared his throat. Stared at his hands on the tabletop. “I’m not going to avoid that question, Julian, but I’m going to table it for now because I don’t want to answer it here. Later,” he added with an affectionate touch to the back of Julian’s hand.

The musician tilted his head sympathetically, “Of course. And obviously, you don’t have to tell me. But if you want to, I’ll listen whenever it feels right.”

Eskel nodded and straightened his tie, giving himself something to do with his hands. “Thank you. I do want to. Just...not right this second.”

“I completely understand,” Julian reassured him before chancing a glance at the kitchen door which was swinging suspiciously.

The waiter returned with their parceled pastas, and then once again shortly after with a beautifully layered, barely-holding-together tiramisu, and their coffee.

Eskel sipped on his espresso as Julian daintily dug into the dessert-y corner nearest him: it was the creamiest, moistest, most delicately sweetened tiramisu he’d ever tasted. “Dear sweet Baby Jesus and the Mother... Eskel—and I need you to answer me honestly—do you, or do you not, know how to make this? Because if you do, I—you’re not going to have to work very hard to keep me around.”

Eskel smirked and set his now half-empty cup down, “It’s a family recipe, we can all make it. It was kind of a rite of passage growing up. You know Papa trusted you in the kitchen when he put you on Dessert Duty.”

“Maybe you could teach me someday?”

Eskel narrowed his eyes over the rim of his small demitasse cup, “Hmm maybe. Not yet, though. I still have no proof you’re not working for a rival restaurant. Someday. For now, I have to entertain the possibility that you’re a double agent.”

He took his own hearty spoonful and flashed Julian a bright smile as he chewed. Lambert had prepped this. He could tell. Every element was executed with clinical precision, from the saturation of the biscuits to the subtle eggy sweetness of the custard—even the dusting of cocoa on top was perfectly proportioned with the rest of it. Lambert had truly, from start to finish, outdone himself, and Eskel couldn’t help but think his younger brother’s hijacking of the kitchen was about more than just spying on his date. No, he’d wanted it to be perfect, as good as it possibly could be; though of course he’d never say it. He didn’t have to. Lambert was a snarky pain in the ass with a heart the size of a cruise ship. This was him saying it.

Having polished off the remains of their dessert and espresso, Eskel went to the restroom and settled the bill while Julian put on his jacket, and the two made their way to thank the hostess one last time before heading into the now-dark evening. As they approached the host stand, however, Eskel stopped walking. He was in earshot now, and didn’t like what he was hearing.

“...don’t understand, what about that table?” An irritated middle-aged man and his dinner companion were standing in the doorway.

“Once again, sir—and I’m very sorry—but that table is reserved and there’s a one-hour wait without reservations.” Jess was clearly flustered, but holding her own as Eskel hovered nearby.

“Well, then, where are the people whose table that is?” The man blustered, pointing to a recently-vacant, un-bused table.

“I’ve phoned them, and have been assured they’ll be here within their five-minute wind—”

“You know what, that’s okay, we’re going to take a seat, thank you,” the man pushed past, no longer even looking at Jess, clearly speaking solely for the purposes of shutting her up. On his way, he collided with the broad-chested, half-Italian-half-Polish son of the restaurant’s proprietor.

“That table’s reserved,” Eskel said, coolly. Julian felt a shiver down his spine as this new Eskel he’d caught glimpses of all night took full form. He seemed to occupy twice the amount of space he had before and the vague threat of physical force loomed in the distance like a far-off thunderstorm. Oh my. Julian took a few measured steps back, not sure quite what to expect. Still, it wasn’t fear that whirled in the pit of his stomach. Rather it was something much warmer, a mix of admiration and curiosity that turned over and over as he watched the scenario unfold.

“Excuse me?” The man’s watery eyes flashed indignantly as he looked Eskel up-and-down. He scowled and made to step around, “Mind your own business.”

“This is my business.” Eskel once again put himself between man and table. “To be more precise, it’s my father’s business, but we’re a close family.”

“Well, then, you should train your staff better. This girl has absolutely no idea what she’s doing. We have a reservation! We told her we had a reservation, and now she’s telling us we have to wait an hour because of her incompetence. It’s a liability to your business, having staff that can’t handle simple things like reservations, can’t keep track of a simple thing like that, you ought to fire that girl!”

Eskel looked over the man’s head to Jess who shook her head, shrugging helplessly as she pointed to the reservation list. “This woman,” Eskel continued, “has been with us for seven years and has helped us to streamline and optimize our reservation system at least three different times. She’s more than competent, she’s an asset, and now I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You think you can come into my father’s restaurant—any restaurant—and insult the hostess, refuse to abide by carefully structured systems and policies, and force your way to a table that’s meant for someone else? There is no table for you this evening.”

Julian’s eyes widened as he watched from his safe distance, pretending to scroll on his phone so as not to draw attention to the fact that he was hanging onto every word of this interaction. Eskel was magnificent: grounded and calm, his tone still polite but inarguably authoritarian. Julian would stake his life on Eskel not being a violent person if he could avoid it, but for someone his size, even the vaguest possibility of an altercation would be enough to make an opponent question their choices.

“What?!” the man blustered again, utterly aghast at being denied.

“I will repeat myself once: you are not welcome in this restaurant tonight. Within five minutes of walking through that door, you’ve abused and disrespected the staff, and abused and disrespected the policies of this establishment. I wish you and your companion a pleasant dining experience elsewhere.” The crossed arms as a final punctuation were almost over-the-top, but the gesture drove the point home.

Julian glanced over to Jess. She was clearly finding the whole experience immensely gratifying (who wouldn’t? It was every service worker’s dream come true). But there was something more behind her relieved expression that told Julian she was also deeply touched. It was easy to see why: Eskel at peak protectiveness may as well have been a lioness or a mother bear warding off a potential threat to her young. Besides, he was clearly enjoying himself.

“Unbelievable. This is unacceptable. I’ll make sure the Star and the Herald hear about this.”

Eskel said nothing, but gestured with an open palm towards the exit, taking a few steps forward. The irritant had no choice but to vacate the premises. There was a moment of silence as the dust settled and after a deep breath, it was Eskel who broke the silence, “Sorry about that, Jess. Are you okay?” He tapped her elbow in familiar reassurance. She nodded, taking a sip of water. It was fine, she was just a little flustered. “Want to step out for a minute or two? I can watch the door. That is—if…” he gestured to Julian, having suddenly remembered exactly why he was there in the first place. He received a flippant wave and a shrug (‘yes of course you can send the flustered hostess on a break’) and took Jess’s place at the host stand while she went through the kitchen to get some fresh air.

When she returned, Lambert poked his head out the kitchen door and whistled to get Eskel’s attention, “‘Ey! Tutto bene?” All good?

“Stiamo bene.” We’re fine, Eskel answered with an easy shrug. “Chiamerei Papà.” I’ll call Dad. He held the door once again for Julian as they made their exit, pausing to say goodnight to Jess with a familial kiss on the cheek and a reminder that his number was still on speed-dial for a reason. The two stepped out of the restaurant and,—after a final pause for Eskel to call Papa Vesemir and explain what happened—fell into a slow and comfortable amble.

The two of them walked leisurely, their shoulders bumping back forth for a while. Julian glanced up into the sparkling stars overhead and back down to where the moon shone over Eskel’s skin. He noticed that Eskel seemed a little tense, and he knew that it wasn't because of the most-recent incident. No, a question was pressing very loudly into the creases of Eskel’s forehead, and Julian so desperately wanted to know the answer—not to be nosy, but so that he could help in some way, maybe. But in the last few days he’d already gotten the sense that Eskel was a private man, and that any amount of prying would only lead to friction.

Eskel’s hand fidgeted nervously with the keys in his pocket as they wandered down the ambling side streets of Little Italy—most of them one-way with barely a car in sight in contrast with the busy main drag. He thought back to the photo above his fireplace. If he was going to take this step, it was now or never. If it went badly, there was no great loss. A good few dates, maybe the possibility of something more, but no heartbreak. If he waited, he would only run the risk of making things much worse for much longer. They wandered into a small park where a modest bridge stretched over a pond filled with ducks and small fish. They crossed halfway and stopped in the middle, relaxing in the little pocket of nature tucked away inside the large city.

Eskel took a deep breath, worrying his lower lip slightly with his teeth, and Julian couldn’t tear his eyes away as he watched him gather his thoughts, wondering exactly what information he was about to be smacked with. Does he have a secret family no one knows about? Maybe he’s a secret agent. That’d be coo- no, Jules, stay on task, he’s clearly going through it.

“So…” Eskel kept his eyes trained on the far side of the pond, watching the ducks float and mingle under the stars.

“So…” Julian said, resting his elbows gently on the old, weathered wood of the bridge rail.

“You asked earlier about my last relationship, and I would like for you to have an answer.” Eskel sighed and ran his hand down his face, discreetly scratching at the long scar on his cheek. “It’s...it’s not a happy story, I’m afraid.”

Julian stayed quiet, letting Eskel take the time he needed to say whatever it was he needed to say. His hand twitched to reach for him, but he pulled back. Let him have space. Does he need space? What if he doesn’t want space? Damnit, Julian, he’s a grown man, he’s fine just let him… be.

Eskel turned and leaned against the railing with his arms crossed in front of his chest. When he spoke, his words felt rough in his throat, but it felt good to be saying them. Felt right. “I was married before.” Julian’s eyes widened as he raised his eyebrows. He didn’t know why, but Eskel had given off a strong bachelor vibe, not at all what he would have expected from someone who’d already been settled down before. “College sweethearts, got married the summer after we graduated, got situated together as best we could—you know, nice apartment, grown-up furniture, houseplants. We made plans to move out of the city, saved up enough to put a small downpayment on a home somewhere quieter. And we did. Front lawn, backyard, space for a garden. It wasn’t much and it was right by the tracks, but it was ours. Packed everything up, rented a U-Haul (we didn’t have much stuff)... A week and two days after we moved in, a drunk driver ran a red going 100 in a 50 zone and ploughed into the passenger side door—damn near tore the car in half. I wasn’t alone.”

“Oh, shit,” Julian breathed, his eyes welling with tears, “I-I don’t know what to say, except I am so sorry…”

Eskel shook his head, still adamantly staring into the distance, his voice a little thick, “Thank you, Julian, you don’t have to say anything. I just… I wanted you to know. I’ve moved on, but I still love her, if that makes any sense.”

“I understand. Thank you.” Julian rested a hand on Eskel’s shoulder, and received a grateful squeeze from Eskel’s hand as it came to meet his. “So… I do have one question. If it’s alright, if not I can save it for another time if you’d rather not—”

Eskel shrugged dismissively, “No, no, it’s all on the table, you should be able to ask. What’s on your mind?”

“It’s just… you said… her?”

Eskel nodded, “Yes.”

“So you…”

“Found someone I loved.”

Julian nodded, feeling the tears finally break through and trickle down his cheeks, cooling in the night air. He cleared his throat, “Eskel? Could I maybe—unless you want some space, which is fine, you can just tell me but—could I hold your hand? I just, I feel like I want to but don’t know if you—”

Eskel slid his hand over the rail and grabbed onto Julian’s hand, their fingers intertwining gently. Julian squeezed, scooting a little closer to Eskel so that he could feel the warmth radiating from beneath his soft suede jacket. Julian sighed softly, mirroring Eskel as they both looked over the water. “Why now? Why me?”

Eskel finally looked over, and Julian met his eyes. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright and full of mourning and pain and something lighter, something that felt a lot like hope. “I think you came along at a good time.”

“Did you… I mean… have you been with many—”

“I’ve gotten all the rebound out of my system if that’s what you mean,” Eskel smirked brightly and Julian was surprised at the relief he felt to see joy come back to his companion’s face. He nudged Julian’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. At least, when it comes to people. Clothing is a different story, I’ve said as much myself. I like you, Julian. And I meant what I said about taking this seriously. You know, I… this might sound odd, but I like the way you make me feel. It’s a good feeling. And if it’s alright with you, I’d like to kiss you.”

It was slow and fluid, the way Eskel turned to face Julian, gently sandwiching him between the bridge railing and his own warm body. He didn’t crowd, didn’t press, but the soft wool of his sweater met the crisp cotton of Julian’s button-down and a thrill turned in Julian’s stomach as two large hands cradled the sides of his face. Julian swallowed and reached a tentative hand to Eskel’s right cheek. He didn’t flinch or pull away, but almost leaned into the musician’s cool fingers as they traced the jagged lines.

“May I?” Eskel’s whisper was almost plaintive and Julian could feel his breath trembling as he nodded.

Their lips crashed together and they both breathed deep in a mutual swell, noses filling with cologne and freshly laundered clothing, and the crisp smell of dampness that rose from the chilly water below them. Lips, hands, tongues, hair, bodies pressed closer, their breaths misting in the cool spring air. Only the soft sounds of sleepy ducks and the latent rumble of distant traffic could be heard as the two sunk into each other, relished one another. For Eskel, it was part-relief, part-comfort, hope and reassurance. For Julian it was also hope, but a hope that he could be good enough, be someone for Eskel to rely on, trust in. And so far, much to his amazement, he seemed to be succeeding.

When they did finally part for air, neither of them seemed keen to stray far. Eskel leaned his forehead against Julian’s, his eyes still closed as he caught his breath. Julian, however, couldn’t keep his eyes still, drinking in every ounce of Eskel that he could reach. “You, uh…” Eskel swallowed in a gulping breath, “you still have time to run for the hills.”

Julian chuckled and touched their lips back together sweetly, unhurried, a soft peck in the moonlight. “I’m not running anywhere, I promise.”

Julian could feel Eskel’s smile pressing into his own lips, and he knew he was a goner. “Good. That’s very good…”

They stood there for a while more, lingering in each other’s space as the moon peeked out from behind a cloud, hazy and golden. Though, as more clouds threatened to cover the stars in a dewy mist, Eskel murmured in Julian’s ear, taking his hand and leading him down the path towards Julian’s apartment. They took their time walking back, chatting quietly, sometimes playfully bumping shoulders until they finally reached Julian’s door. It was late, almost 10pm as they stood at the front of the walkup, both feeling slightly chilly.

“I would invite you in but… roommate. And I haven’t told her I’m seeing anyone, so. Not that I expect—er, I mean, whatever you, uh—”

“We’ll figure it out,” Eskel said calmly with a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “Plenty of time.”

With that, they said goodnight, and Eskel promised, once again, to text when he got home.

Meanwhile, Lambert had his back pressed up against the side of the restaurant, its windows dark and oblivious to the shenanigans taking place in its side alley. The usurping chef moaned as his bottom lip was gently pressed between a set of teeth, tugging gently, wantonly, with the promise of leaving him tender and swollen and wanting for nothing by the end of the evening. He knew what Lambert wanted, the smarmy asshole was an open book, and the waiter was always happy to oblige. Besides, Lambert wasn’t the only one getting something out of it. Oh no, this was an equal transaction, enthusiastically participated in by both parties.

Lambert threaded his fingers into thick, dark waves of hair and swallowed the moan he received in response. He felt the pair of hands around his waist slide down to his backside and squeeze tightly, grinding their hips together sloppily, desperately.

“I uh-” Lambert gasped between their lips, “I wanted to thank you again for helping out tonight, Aiden. It uh, I know how much Eskel needed that and-”

“Quit being such a sap and shut up so I can kiss you,” Aiden growled, pushing Lambert harder against the cold brick wall at his back and Lambert was very quickly at a loss for words. Did he have to be up at the ass-crack of dawn to go into the cafe? Yes. Was this just the beginning of a—hopefully—very long night? Aiden hooked a finger in Lambert’s belt and began tugging him towards his car. Yes, yes it was.

***

#family business #collab #eskel/jaskier #eskel/julian #fluff #modern au

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joinwisterias · 3 years ago

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𝕨𝕖'𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕖 𝕕𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟

Gossip Girl currently has Derek Shepherd an Elite who hails from The Upper East Side on their radar. He is said to look around 35 years young and was last spotted at the 21 Club. If you have any tips about McDreamy, please send them in.

trigger warnings: murder, character death, cheating.

𝔹𝔼𝔽𝕆ℝ𝔼 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝔻𝕀𝕊𝔸��ℙ𝔼𝔸ℝ𝔸ℕℂ𝔼.

Legacy is a devil that never forgets to collect its pound of flesh and no one knows that quite like the residents of the Upper East Side. Derek, like the other Shepherd men before him, has been burdened by something even greater than the family fortune. While Shepherd has always been a name capable of opening doors, tied to a generational wealth that was more modest—albeit just as prestigious—than the Vanderbilts and the Rothschilds, it was Derek’s father that gave the name the notoriety it has today.

As the oldest child and only son, Derek was especially close with his dad. He idolized him, spending the first thirteen years of his life trying to make him proud and everyday since trying to live up to his name. An untimely death would have been enough to shake the family to their core, but given that he was killed and two of his children paid witness, nothing was ever the same. Derek took on the responsibility of looking after his sisters and now that they’re grown, he’s been met with the struggle of being accountable for himself.

𝔸𝔽𝕋𝔼ℝ 𝕋ℍ𝔼 ℝ𝔼𝕍𝕀𝕍𝔸𝕃.

Stuck between trying to be his own man and living in the shadow casted by his father, Derek has had no shortage of his own mistakes. While Meredith’s unexpected disappearance sent shockwaves through the island that rippled even in the outer boroughs, Derek took the opportunity as a clean slate. No one was quick to forget the tension that lingered between the pair, but the absence at least slowed the rumor mill. In the last year Derek has doubled down on his future plans; throwing himself into further building the empire that Shepherd & Sloan has become and moving forward in his relationship with Addison. It’s no secret that he has his sights set on being CEO, meanwhile everyone else is on the lookout for a proposal. However, the subsequent reappearance of the elusive blonde has thrown a wrench into his plans, leaving him treading more carefully than ever.

Thanks for the tip M Higgins.

𝕋ℍ𝔼 ℂ𝕆ℕℕ𝔼ℂ𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ𝕊.

MEREDITH GREY: One night stand. Before Meredith came into the picture, Derek always had a clear plan for how his life would go. He knew what he wanted and the steps he needed to take in getting there, but even from brief encounters—there was an unmistakable spark between the two of them. The kind that led to trouble when fueled by a night of liquor and a crumbling relationship. With Meredith doing her best Houdini impression, everything should have gotten back to normal. Derek couldn’t help lingering on the unanswered questions though and now that she’s back, it’s only a matter of time before he goes looking for answers.

ADDISON MONTGOMERY: Girlfriend. Behind every good man is a woman sick of his shit.. or something to that effect. Nearly as far back as Derek can remember, he and Addison have always been a pair. Everyone in their lives, from their parents to their friends to complete strangers have said what a gorgeous couple they make. And after more than a decade together, they are a fixture in the Upper East Side. By the looks of it, things have been better than ever with his longtime girlfriend—leaving many to wonder why Derek has yet to pop the question. Running out of time and reasonable excuses has put the couple at odds more than a few times. Now with old rumors resurfacing and new ones starting to brew, Derek needs to make a move before the patience that he’s made a point of testing completely runs out.

MARK SLOAN: Best friend. On paper, the two men don’t have much in common when it comes to their personalities. Mark is a rake with an affinity for trouble and a laundry list of bad habits. Whereas Derek has always been the more pragmatic of the two. Well liked and well mannered to the point of things completely passing him by. Yet they have maintained a lifelong friendship, Derek considering Mark the brother that he never had. Their friendship has never gotten in the way of their equally competitive natures though. And with Mark’s dad pushing for him to take more initiative, plus whatever attention he throws in the direction of Addison, Derek can’t help wondering just how loyal his best friend really is.

SHEPHERD FAMILY: His sisters. Despite their respective ages, Derek is still fiercely protective of all his sisters. Although the dynamic varies between each one and they all make a habit of torturing each other, he’s quick to draw the line when anyone else tries. Even the best of intentions and a dynasty at their fingertips can’t reign in the Shepherds though. They’re a timebomb. A supernova burning ever brighter and hotter, but as the laws of space would dictate—eventually the star implodes, destroying everything else in its path.

Derek Shepherd is portrayed by FC UTP and is written by Mun Name. He is currently Open.

HAVE A LOOK INSIDE THE ELITE.

#gossip girl rp #grey's anatomy rp #greys anatomy rp #merder #addek #derek shepherd

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lovlydovlyjaycie · 4 years ago

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The Walking Dead / Supernatural: A World Changed

Hii so this is gonna be a story about a crossover but also not really a crossover from the walking dead and supernatural.

Summary: Y/N is from Boston and moved to Los Angeles to be a nanny, she’s been doing it for a while now and loves the two, soon to be three, children like they were her own. One day she goes to work and it seems like the world around her is falling apart. People are dying, unbeknownst to her they are coming back to live. She is trying to find a way so she stays alive and the people around her too and she needs help, but she’d rather does it on her own.

Characters: Y/N, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Jack, Jody Mills, Donna Hanscum, Claire Novak, OC Clark Cattaneo, OC Jayden Cattaneo, Mentioned: OC Alice Cattaneo, OC Mark Cattaneo , OC Birdy Cattaneo

Warnings: angst, language, violence, awkwardness? slight fluff?

Music: In The Darkness - Timo Brandt

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZ2GCGBTBls

Part 8 The Soccer ball

Day 763

I’ve been in the bunker for about a month now since I went back with the Winchesters. Al and I had said goodbye, because she really wanted to go to Texas. She had tried to get Dean and Sam to take a interview, but they said that we really needed to get back to the bunker.

I have also decided to take Al up for the advice she gave me and let go that Dean and Sam where hiding something. I also wasn’t ready to tell my story to everyone either. So I decided to let it go.

They gave me a job after I was with them for a week. I patrolled the gates every other day and teach the kids. There weren’t a lot of kids though. It was just Clark, Jayden, a girl quiet named Abbie she was about twelve and Jack. What I didn’t understand was why Jack was here. He seemed to be around eighteen years old and he must have been to school before all this. But he was always the one with the most questions that I didn’t understand why he never got to know about. About simple things like when the U.S. got the independence or the wars we were involved in. He would always ask why it happened, when and how. These should all be things he should’ve learned in middle school. Maybe he was home schooled? I don’t know. But they were all good kids, even though I might be bias, because two out of the four kids were mine. the ‘school’ hours were usually not very long. About two or three hours and then I was off for the rest of the day.

The kids got out of the room where we had ‘school’. I took Clark and Jayden to go outside. It was getting a lot colder now, but luckily Dean had surprised me earlier this week with warmer jackets for me and the kids. Now it was finally time to test it out.

We got out of the door and walked up the stairs to go outside. Not many people were outside because of the cold. I only saw Dean watching the gate with Jody and saw three other people either keeping a look out for the fence or cleaning up.

“Why don’t you go look for something to play with sweetie.” I said to Clark. His imagination was so big. Any object he found was a toy for him. He smiled and ran off to the trees that were inside the fence, he usually got his sticks from there.

I looked down at Jayden who was holding my hand. He was gonna be two soon. It felt bittersweet. Seeing him grow up was amazing, but for him to never know his sister or parents was a difficult thought to have.

“Hey y/n!” I heard coming from the fence. Dean walked to the car that was parked next to it and got something out of it. He gave the gun he was holding quickly to Jody before he came walking towards us. “Claire and I found something else on our run.” He said as he showed me a soccer ball. Jayden gave a big smile at that. “What do you say Jayden?” I asked giving him a little push to say something. He still wouldn’t say a lot of words at all. Dean crouched down and put the ball in front of him. “Thank.” He said quietly and I almost missed it, but Dean didn’t. “You’re welcome little nugget.” He said as he ruffled his hair gave him the ball and stood up. Jayden was looking at me, waiting for permission to go play. “You can go bubs, go play with your ball.” I said smiling at him. Jayden ran off but still stayed very close, he always wanted to be as close as he could to either me or Clark.

“That was very sweet of you to do, Dean, thank you.” I told him. I truly was grateful, they didn’t have real toys here. Only the sticks Clark kept finding.

“Yeah, really it was no problem. Claire actually found it when we were looking for supplies.” Dean explained while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, I’ll be sure to thank Claire as well for getting them the ball.” He nodded and smiled at that.

“So.. how have you been liking it here?” He asked awkwardly. “I like it a lot. This is the first time since this all started I’m with a group in the winter. It’s a lot less stressful.” I didn’t realize until just now how hard it was to find food around this time of year. When Jayden was just born I don’t think I have ever felt that level of stress before in my entire life. He cried so much.

“Well I’m glad that you guys are here. You bring a new light to the group.” He stated simply, like it was obvious. But I didn’t know that. “How so?” I asked I didn’t know what he meant. I was looking at him now. He was wearing his usual brown leather jacket, it looked very worn. “Well.. you know.. Clark and Jayden.. and you.” He said he looked a little nervous saying that, but I don’t know why. “How is that a new light to the group?” I said slightly laughing. I liked seeing him uncomfortable. He always seemed so though around other people, but not now.

“I don’t know, you just seem to light up the room whenever you walk in one.. All of you.” He added that last part quickly. “Thank you.” I said simply. I didn’t know what else to say. There was a short awkward moment of silence. So I decided to keep up with the awkward small talk, I’d rather have that than awkward silence.

“You know it’s almost the new year. And I’m pretty sure it’s Christmas around now.” I told Dean. I was looking back at Jayden who was happily playing with the ball and Clark was still playing with a lot of sticks that he had found.

“Is it? What date is it?” He asked. “Well it’s day 763 since the world ended.. given it was November when that happened it’s almost the new years.” I explained. Dean was thinking about what I said for a second. “You’ve counted the days since the world went to... shit?” He whispered the last part, to make sure Jayden or Clark wouldn’t hear. “Yes.. Haven’t you?” I thought this was kind of a thing everybody was doing. “No, not really.. at least not anymore.” “Why did you stop?” I wondered out loud. “At first I did it I guess to hold on to what was before.. and seeing how long it took for the world to go back to normal. Then that just didn’t happen and I stopped.” He explained. “So you gave up on that thought of things going back to normal?”

“No not necessarily. I guess I just excepted that this is the way it is now. Don’t get me wrong I would love to have things go back to normal, but for me everyday that got added to the count disappointed me more and more. So I just excepted it. Why are you keeping up with the days still?” He asked looking at me.

In all honesty. I don’t know why I was still counting. Because my count has been for something horrible this whole time. I know exactly how many days it has been since the world ended. I know exactly on what day Birdy and Alice died. I know the exact day that I killed people. And those things only seem to stick out. Sure I know the birthdays of Clark and Jayden, but that was different. Maybe I am still trying to hold on to a different time I’m just never going to get back.

“I don’t know why I haven’t stopped, but maybe some day.. when I guess I’m ready to let go.” I was a little disappointed that I was still holding on to something like that. Dean must have noticed my disappointment and stepped closer to me. He turned me to face him.

“Don’t feel disappointed about something like that. When you’re ready to move on, you’re ready. Everybody takes their own time in this stuff. It’s not like anybody knew the world was going to fall apart.” He reassured me. That made me feel happy. He was standing so close now our hands were almost brushing. I don’t know why but I got the urge to give him a hug. Maybe it was because I was still very stressed. Maybe it was because I finally felt some what safe. Or maybe it was just because I wanted too. So for the first time in a while I decided to listen to my instincts and give him a hug. I put my arms around his torso and put my head against his chest. “Thank you.. for everything.”

At first he seemed to hesitate and I was about to pull away until he put his arms around my shoulders. “No problem, doll.” He said. It felt so good to have human contact again like this. He was so warm and he smelled like whiskey, gunpowder and motor oil. He smelled soo good. I pulled back to look at him. I never noticed, but his eyes are a beautiful emerald green and he had a few freckles spread around his face. Probably never noticed this, because I’ve never been this close to him before. We were both looking deep in each others eyes, until I felt a ball hit my leg. I quickly let go and gathered myself. Jayden was running up to me.

“Mamma, ball.” He said happily. “Did you just make a sentence?” I asked happily to Jayden. “Mamma, ball.” He said again. I have never heard him say a two word sentence before. I lowered myself to hid eyesight. “Do you want me to play?” I asked and he nodded at that. “Alright lets go.” I told him and walked off. “Thank you again for the ball Dean.” I told him one more time. Dean gave me a wave as he walked back to the gate.

“So.. you and y/n?” Jody said with a knowing smile. Dean took his gun from Jody. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Dean said as he was doing his best to avoid Jody’s gaze. “Yeah right mister though guy.” Jody said laughing as she was going back on the look out. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked slightly irritated. “Hmm.. Nothing. Lets get back to work.” Jody stated. She knew what she meant. Around everybody he had a though demeanor, but around y/n or Clark and Jayden he seemed to turn in a softy.

“Why did you tell y/n that Claire found the ball?” Jody asked. “Because she did.” He stated. “Claire told me something else though.. Didn’t you go out your way to find a ball? Or did she tell me that wrong?” Jody gave Dean a knowing look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stated. Dean looked back around to see that y/n, Clark and Jayden were going back inside. It was getting quite cold. She waved at me as she went back in. Dean smiled and waved back at y/n as she walked in.

I took Clark and Jayden to the kitchen to get something ready for them to eat for dinner. Donna had just finished making dinner with two other people that lived there. “Oh Hiya little troublemakers.” Donna said smiling at Clark and Jayden. They loved Donna. I mean what was not to love about her, she radiated this happiness everywhere she went and when ever she smiled you just couldn’t help yourself and do the same.

“Hi Donna! Guys say Hi.” I told Clark and Jayden. “Hi Donna.” Clark said and Jayden waved. “Still not much of a talker?” She asked me. ”No, not yet, but it will come.” I told Donna more reassuring myself. “I got some food ready. You guys hungry?” Donna said changing the subject. Clark and Jayden were basically jumping up and down.

As Donna and I were getting plates ready Claire walked in to get some dinner too. She got a plate and started putting food on it. “Thank you by the way for the ball you and Dean found.” I said, I decided to not single her out because she usually seems a bit more reserved and I didn’t want to put her on the spot.

“Oh.. Uhm.. You’re welcome, but I didn’t find it.” Claire told me. “Dean and I had split up he said he wanted to look for toys and when he came back he found a ball for your kids.” She went on to explain.

“Oh, Dean sai.. Thank you anyway.” Claire gave me an awkward smile and went to sit down.

I thought that was really sweet that he took time out of his day for that. Why couldn’t he just tell me that himself?

...

Hope you liked it! Let me know what you think! :)

#dean #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #deanwinchtser #sam winchester #supernatural #the walking dead #supernatural fanfic #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #dean winchester

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chickensarentcheap · 5 years ago

Text

Sanctuary - Chapter 21

Warnings: profanity but that’s about it

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @valkyrie-of-the-light

They meet in a coffee house two clocks from their hotel; arriving separately, hoping not to draw attention to themselves. There was no way of telling of how far word had spread. If the news that a solider for hire had travelled out into the general community or if the people responsible very keeping it on the downlow in fear of escalating tension. There was already longstanding angst between the IRA and everyday folk; their acts of brutality and domestic terrorism were decades old and while silent, still had the propensity to flair up at a moments notice.

Tyler is already on his second extra large black coffee when Yaz arrives; the younger man casually slipping into the bench across from him, iPad in one hand, his own SAT in the other.

“That shit will kill you,” Yaz remarks, wrinkling his nose at how incredibly strong the brew smells; the colour as dark as fresh black ink.

“Too late. I’m already dead inside.” Tyler retorts, and removes his sunglasses and places them on the tabletop, followed by his personal cellphone.

Esme had sent him videos that the kids had made for him: Tanner bragging about how many popsicles he ate in one sitting, TJ showing off his black eye and swollen nose, and Mille proud as shit that she’d been the one who had inflicted the damage. She had no shame; she wasn’t sorry and refused to apologize and declared she would do it again in a heartbeat if he so as much breathed on her the wrong way. And then the baby; with his very first haircut, freshly erupted teeth, and a handful of words that seemingly cropped up over night.

The loneliness is intense. Those beautiful little faces and those cute, soft voices telling him how much they missed him. How much they loved him and couldn’t wait for him to come home.

He rubs his hands over his face. He’d managed to trim the beard. Had taken the clippers to his hair. Followed by a long, cold shower that did little to calm his nerves and worry but had successfully managed to aggravate every bit of arthritis that existed in his body.

“You look like shit,” Yaz comments, and then peers into his mug. “Black, huh?”

“Yeah. Like my soul.”

Yaz smirks, then orders a caramel latte from the waitress that drops two menus onto the tabletop. His eyes following her as she walks away; eyebrows arched as he admires the way her hips sway from side to side and the way her skirt just seems to hug each and every curve. “You look like shit,” he says, as he turns back to Tyler. “Get any sleep?”

“Not really. You?”

He shakes his head, and pushes one of the vinyl bound menus across the table. “Eat something for fuck sakes, can’t have you wasting away on and perishing from starvation in the middle of a job. Nik would beat my ass. And your wife would kill me.”

“You realize I could break you in half with my bare hands, yeah?” Tyler smirks, as he flips open his menu.

“I do. And do you realize I’ve actually had nightmares where that’s happened? Where I’ve pissed you off and you’ve just gone medieval on my ass? I’m not ashamed to admit that you scare the ever loving shit out of me. I’m glad we’re friends, man. I’m just saying. Because I really do not want you to kill me with a garden rake.”

“That’s played out. I’d use something more creative. Like a tire iron. Or a pitchfork.”

“Nothing surprises me about you anymore. So after we talked, I couldn’t turn my brain off. It was like it was in overdrive. Firing on all cylinders. I can’t wrap my head around this. I can’t figure out how they made us that quick. We didn’t go through any airports, we didn’t have to check through customs, there was no flight manifesto. At least not one with our real names. How?”

“They had us made before we even got off the plane. Probably before we even left Colorado. There’s someone inside. A mole. There has to be. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Maybe McCann? Maybe he is in on this. Maybe this is some big game.”

“I think it’s someone on the team. He even told me when we first met that he’d paid to get my information from someone and that’s how he tracked me down all the way in Guatemala.”

“How fucked up is that? That he actually showed up there and followed you? Like a goddamn stalker.”

“How fucked up is it that that’s not even the most messed up thing in all of this?” Tyler counters, and casts a glance towards his cell phone as it vibrates against the table. Taking the opportunity to check on the notification as the waitress returns with Yaz’ drink, and her phone number. The latter she boldly tucks into the breast pocket of his shirt before flashing a dazzling smile before taking their orders as if nothing even happened.

“Well shit…” Yaz’s eyes once more follow her backside as she heads to the kitchen with their requests. “…and she’s’ cute too!”

“And legal,” Tyler smirks, as he types out a quick reply to his wife’s text message.

“Fuck you,” Yaz mutters. “That was a complete mistake. I didn’t realize she was that young. You could have been my wingman. Had you not gone into the bathroom to get laid. And thanks for that, by the way. I had to piss in an alley out behind that bar.”

“Take it as a badge of honour to know your godson was conceived while you were taking a leak outside and taking one for the team.”

“You two conceive your kids in the most fucked up places, I swear. Is anything normal with you guys? Or did you just figure, ‘hey, we started this shit out during some craziness, let’s keep the trend going’?”

“Excuse me for not being vanilla like you. Which is why I have a very satisfied wife at home and why you have callouses on your palms and carpal tunnel.”

“Sometimes I really hate you, you know that? Think I should call her?”

“Why wouldn’t you? She’s cute. She’s obviously into you. She was brave enough to give you her number. Maybe she’s brave at other things.”

Yaz smirks. “I like the way you think. Maybe I don’t hate you after all. This never happens, you know. When we go somewhere together. You’re the one that is usually getting all the phone numbers. Which you don’t even use, by the way.”

“Why would I? I’m married. Happily.”

“At least pass them on to your boy. What is wrong with me? How long have I had to struggle as your sidekick? How long have I had to witness women tripping over themselves to get your attention? You and the blue eyes and all the muscles.”

Tyler grins. “I’m flattered, Yaz. I never knew you had a crush on me. If I swung that way, I’d probably give you a chance. I’d probably split you in half though. I don’t think you could handle all this.”

“You’re a very disturbed individual, did you know that? There’s something seriously wrong with you. You’re not my type anyway You’re too...pretty.”

Tyler snorts. “I’m pretty? You have some pretty messed up definition of pretty, then. The tattoos, the scars. How’s that pretty?”

“The eyes. The hair. The smile. The big arms.”

“Alright, alright. I’m getting a complex here. Quit flirting with me and let’s get down to business. What did you find out?”

“Quite a bit actually,” he powers up the iPad and leans it against the napkin holder and condiment dispenser at the edge of the table, so they can both see it. “It wasn’t that hard to find. And I’m honestly surprised none of us thought of doing it before. Looking into the wife. There’s some good stuff. First…” he taps on the screen and brings up a side by side picture of Heather McCann; one from her earlier years (either high school or college, Tyler can’t say for sure) and a current photo, before she’d been taken.

“She’s from New Zealand. Which we already knew. Born in Christchurch. May 29th, 1979. Her mother was heavy into the activism scene; protesting shit like pollution in the oceans, nuclear arms, animal cruelty, women’s rights. So on and so forth. A couple arrests under her belt. Nothing serious. Creating a public nuisance, assault on a police officer, vandalism. Nothing too scandalous. The father however, had quite the extensive criminal record.”

“He’s dead?”

“Killed. Ten years ago. While on vacation on the Bahamas. It was a hit. No doubt about. One to the back of his head.”

Tyler sips his coffee. “Execution style.”

“Exactly. Now, I couldn’t figure out what the hell he could have been involved in that led to that. So I did some more digging. His name was Alphonse Buckman, and this criminal record of his, there is some pretty serious shit. Racketeering, four counts of assault with a deadly weapon, money laundry, trafficking…”

“Another Amir Asif.”

“New Zealand’s own. And there’s more. Much more. We’re talking uttering death threats, threatening a public official, conspiracy to commit murder, accessory to murder. It just goes on and fucking on.”

“How was he even out on the street? With a list like that? He should have been doing at least fifty years if you add all of that up.”

“Money, Tyler. Money. This isn’t just some normal guy. He was the head of very prominent crime family in New Zealand.”

He frowns. “Didn’t McCann say that he met his wife while trying to extract someone from a crime family down there?”

“He wasn’t just extracting someone from any crime family. He was extracting them from this crime family.”

“Jesus fuck,” Tyler runs his hands over his face, rakes a hand through his hair, holding it away from his forehead.

“It gets better. So much better. Or worse. I’m not sure which. Remember what McCann told you? About his wife being a shop keeper?”

Tyler nods.

“That’s bullshit. Her grandmother was the shop keeper. Grandmother on the mother’s side. Remember that part, okay? Heather wasn’t just some innocent caught up in all of this. Just some random off the street. She’s the daughter of an international criminal mastermind. We’re talking a guy that was even wanted by Interpol and still managed to get off. Heather was the extract.”

“Wait…wait…you lost me. What?”

“Heather was who McCann was hired to extract. He was hired by the father. Because the mother had taken off with Heather to get her away from him. He wasn’t there to get someone away from a bad guy. He was working for the bad guy. A bad guy with extensive ties, to, you guessed it, the IRA.”

“This is fucked,” Tyler concludes. “This is quite possibly the most fucked up thing I’ve heard in a long time. That I’ve been mixed up in.”

“It was his very first job. As a mercenary. He left the IRA to become a soldier of fortune. And they took that as a huge slight. Because of all that he knows about them. And because he’s no doubt had to go after some of their members. He’s a traitor to them. But…”

‘Nothing good every comes after ‘but’, Yaz. Nothing.”

“He hasn’t just pissed off the IRA. He’s pissed off everyone associated with the ex father in law. Because he took money from them to do jobs that he never followed through with. We’re talking big money, Tyler. Like millions of dollars. Huge cash. So he’s got the IRA after him and everyone that still has ties and loyalty to his father in law. They both want him.”

“So there’s a huge pissing content going on between the IRA and these other guys.”

“Exactly. This is messed up. And I have seen some messed up shit. One word. Dhaka.”

“Still doesn’t explain the weird feeling I get from the wife,” he gives the waitress a polite smile as she returns with their food and cutlery.

“This is where it gets really interesting,” Yaz says, as he digs into his food, then shoots the waitress a thumbs up from across the coffee house. He swipes left on the tablet, bringing up school pictures of the McMann children. “This is Emma and Nicholas McMann. Michael and Heather McMann’s two children. Born here in Belfast. Not that that means anything, really, but just bare with me here. So McMann came home on the twelveth and found his place tossed. Completely trashed. And his wife and the kids missing and a letter, claiming to be from the IRA, saying they were responsible and that they’d be in touch. But he never called the police. He never once reported that his kids or his wife, had been taken.”

“Because he knew that the cops would find out about his own illegal shit.”

“Precisely. He spends a few days trying to take them down. Stirring up some real shit here in Belfast with the IRA, who in turn, turns around and says they have no idea what he’s even talking about. They say it wasn’t them. That they had nothing to do with it and if they wanted him dead that badly, they would just do it. They wouldn’t do that to kids.”

“So they say. We’ve seen a lot of screwed up shit involving kids, Yaz.”

“I agree. Or normally I would. But I’m starting to think it isn’t the IRA. They’re a proud bunch. When they’re involved in something, they admit it. They adamantly refuse to take any responsibility for this. Which leads us back…”

“To the father in law,” Tyler concludes.

“Which in turn, leads us back to her,” he brings another picture of Heather McCann on the screen. “Guess who runs the books for dear old dead daddy’s people back home. Guess who is the only child of said dead mobster and the executor of his estate and his power of attorney.”

Tyler sighs. “I need something stronger than coffee for this.”

“She’s the ring leader. Supposedly. I can’t really prove that. Not yet. You know, some of this shit would be a lot easier to dig up it we had an actual experienced intel person. Someone with real hands on experience. That has done all of this before. And really awesomely, I might add.”

“Forget it, Yaz. Don’t even say it. There’s no way I’m agreeing to that and you know it.”

“Esme has tons of contacts,” he reasons. “All over the world. She’s dealt with this kind of thing. Organized crime. In New York City and Philadelphia. I’ve seen her file, Tyler. From the people in North America.”

“You ran a background check on my wife? Just now or…”

“Back when Nik was going to hire her. We had to check things out. Check references. Things like that. You haven’t seen her file but I have. And it’s not just impressive. It is super fucking impressive. The circles that she’s infiltrated, the people she’s got to trust her, the mercenaries that she’s helped get people out of some horrible shit. She doesn’t just know things that regular people know. She knows things that could get a lot of people killed. And if we had her here…”

“Yaz, I said forget it. I am not getting her involved. We have four kids at home. That need their mother.”

“They need their father too. But here you are.”

“I’m not taking their mother away from them. I’m not doing it. So drop it.”

“Tyler, both the IRA and this family know we’re here. They know our names. Our faces. They know we came here and they are pissed. I am not going to be able to get all the information out of them that we need. Esme could come in here and get everything we need and then leave just as fast as she got here. Look what she was able to do in Dhaka. How successful that part of it was. Now tell me why this is a bad idea.”

“Because she isn’t just some random intel person, Yaz. She’s my wife. The mother of my kids. That’s why. This is insane. Even thinking about dragging her into this. Wasn’t Dhaka enough? Wasn’t that enough bullshit for her to go through? You want me to just bring her into this?”

“It would work. You know it would. You’re just too scared to admit it. Bringing Esme in would save us a whole lot of time.”

“And possibly get her killed.”

“She could have been killed in Dhaka. But she wasn’t. Because you were there to protect her. Just like you would be here.”

“Jesus…” Tyler drags his hand down his face. “…I can’t believe I am listening to this.”

“But you’re considering it. Aren’t you.”

He reluctantly nods.

“It’s the best idea I have. And it’s the only one that will work. And you know that. That’s why you don’t want to admit it. Look, I know it probably scares the shit out of you. Her getting back into this, but we need her Tyler. I know it. You know it.”

“This is insane,” he drops his fork on his now empty plate with a clatter and leans back in booth, hands clasped behind his head.

“What’s the worst she can say? No?”

“How about ‘you’re fucking insane and I want a divorce’.”

“That won’t happen and you know it. Give it some thought. We don’t have a lot of time to play with here. McCann is going to start to wonder why we’re stalling, He’s already getting impatient. Give it a couple hours. Think it over.”

Tyler nods in agreement. “Back to the wife. Explain to me how she’s involved.”

“Like I said, I think she’s the one running the show for dear old dead dad. All signs point to her. I can’t prove it. At least not yet. I think she’s exacting revenge on her husband.”

“For what?”

“Apparently he’s got quite the wandering eye. And a wandering dick.”

“So set all this up…use her children as bait…because her husband can’t keep it in his pants? Seems a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think it’s just that. I think she knows he had something to do with her father’s death. And she’s pissed because he’s screwed over all kinds of other people by not doing the jobs he was hired to do. Just pocketing the money. Which in turn, puts targets on her and her kids’ back.”

“So she stages all of this to make it look like she’s not involved but uses her kids for leverage?”

“Like you said, we’ve seen screwed up things involving kids. And this wouldn’t be the worst. Unfortunately.”

“This changes everything. You know that, yeah?”

“You need to be the one to get the kids out, Tyler. They have to be your priority. You’re responsibility. They’re the only innocent ones in all of this. It has to be you.”

“And if I can only get one?”

“One is better than none.”

He gives a derisive snort, then waves the waitress over and orders another coffee.

“Let McCann go for the wife. Let them kill each other. Who gives a shit at this point. The bad wiping out the bad. But you have to get those kids. They have to be your extracts.”

He sighs heavily, then nods.

“Now call your wife,” Yaz slides Tyler’s cell phone towards him. “Tell her we need her help. Tell her what’s going on. Let her be the one to decide if she wants to get involved or not.”

“If she asks me for a divorce and I get kicked out of my house, I’m coming to sleep on your couch, mate,” he’s only half joking, then palms his cell phone and slips out of the booth.

“Good luck,” Yaz calls after him as he heads for the exit.

****

She answers on the third ring; sounding exhausted, yet still excited to hear from him.

“I thought you wouldn’t call until much later your time,” she says. “It’s only eight am there. It thought for sure you’d be busy. Tracking people down, kicking some ass. All that kind of stuff.”

“We’ve hit a bit of a roadblock,” Tyler admits, as he slips his sunglasses on and leans against the red brick of the coffee house. Seeking peace and quiet from the hustle and bustle of the main street by tucking into the neighbouring alley. From here he can keep an eye on the road; observe those coming down the sidewalk from each direction, leaving different store fronts. The alley leads to a dead end, nothing but dumpsters and back exits. “And maybe I just wanted to call because I wanted to hear your voice. Maybe I miss you.”

“Maybe?” she challenges, and he grins.

“I miss you,” he admits. “A lot. A hell of a lot.”

“I miss you too. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he assures her. “Did I wake you up? What is it? Like eleven there?”

“I’m sitting outside. On the swing. It rained for the better part of the afternoon and it so beautiful out now. There’s a really nice breeze coming in off the mountains. I wish you were here. I miss this part of our night. Sitting out here together. How many times have we actually fallen asleep on this swing?”

“Too many to count,” he says, a smile of reminiscence curving his lips. “The kids were good?”

“Mille finally chilled out. She was much better after I told her to record that video for you. It calmed her right down. She cried a little. At bedtime. Because you weren’t there to tuck her in and read her stories. Maybe you can record yourself reading her one and send it to her. She’d love that. If you find time.”

“I’ll find all the time in the world for her, you know that. How’s the boys?”

“Hanging in there. TJ has his ups and down. Tanner is still being the calm and consoling one. And Declan is Declan. He’s such a little ham. He’s so funny. He’s quite the character already. But what a temper! I’ve never seen anyone pitch a fit like he can! And so strong! I wonder where he gets that from.”

“The being strong or the having a bad temper?”

“Both,” she laughs. “I’m glad you liked the videos. We had so much fun making them. And can you believe the baby has four words now? He’s so smart Tyler. Crazy smart.”

“Like his mom.”

“And he is so close to walking already. You said he would be the one that would walk the earliest. Because of his insanely strong legs. I hope you don’t miss it. I’d really want you to be here when it happens. You missed it with both Millie and the twins. I’d like you to get the chance to see it this time.”

He swallows down the lump of emotion that’s wedged in his throat. “I’d like to see it too. I hope I’m back in time.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks. “You don’t sound like yourself. There’s something in your voice. I don’t know what it is. But it’s something.”

“I need your help,” he just spits it out. No chill whatsoever. Just straight to the point. “Actually, we need your help. Yaz and I.”

“Okay…” he can hear the squeak of the swing as she stands up. “…with?”

“We’ve been made. Both of us. We were made before we even got off the plane.”

“Shit,” she mutters. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. I got a visitor in the middle of the night. From whoever is behind all of this. Telling me that I stuck my nose in business I don’t belong in and that I needed to watch my back. They know my name. Where I live. They have pictures. Of all of us.”

“Which is why Nik decided out of nowhere to stay here along with two of her guys. Tyler…”

“I asked her not to tell you. I didn’t want to get you all worked up if it just turned out to be idle threats. They’re just trying to scare me. So I’ll abandon things here.”

“But you’re not. Abandoning things.”

“I’ve got a job to do.”

“The job is obviously fucked. Tyler, you need to come home. Right now. Get on the next plane and get home. Please.”

“I can’t. I need to get those kids. I don’t give a shit about the wife. But I can’t leave those kids. And I know you understand that. Would you want someone leaving our kids?”

“Of course not.. But…”

“Esme, we need your help. I need your help. I can’t get them without you.”

“Tyler, I’m not a mercenary. I wouldn’t know the first thing about extracting someone. And that’s not something I can just learn on the fly.”

“I don’t need help with that. I can do all that stuff. I need your help with intel.”

“You have Yaz there,” she points out.

“Yaz doesn’t know the things you do. He hasn’t done the things you have. I know you’ve been in this before. I know about New York. And Philly.”

She sighs. “How?”

“Yaz told me. He saw it in your file. When Nik did background on you before she gave you the job. I don’t care that you kept that from me. There’s things I’ve done on the job that you don’t know about either. This isn’t about keeping secrets or protecting each other and keeping info away from one another. This is about me needing your help to rescue those kids.”

“I have to admit, there is a perverse satisfaction in hearing you admit you actually need my help something,” she chides, and he can’t help but grin.

“Babe, I wouldn’t call you about this if I had anyone else,” he continues. “You’re the best at this. I know it. You know it. You’ve helped bring down better and bigger. I won’t go too much into it right now. It’s better if I tell you everything in person.”

“Whoa…whoa…in person? Tyler, I have four kids here. They’re already without their father. Now you want me to leave them without their mother too?”

“Look, it’s not what I want. I know it’s not what you want. And the thought of taking you away from them kills me as much as it kills you. But I need you. McCann’s kids need you.”

“Tyler…” another heavy sigh.

“Esme…please…I really need you to do this.”

“Who do I get to watch the kids? I can’t just pull a babysitter out of my ass.”

“Ask Ovi if Chloe would do it.”

“She works.”

“She owns her own business and has her own employees. I’m sure she can trust them to run shit while she takes time off. Or call your mom.”

“Oh right,” she laughs. “That will go over well.”

“I’ll call her then.”

“That would just be even worse! What would you say? ‘I need you to watch your grandkids so your daughter can come to Ireland and help me kick some ass’?”

“Something like that. Babe, this is serious. These people know who we are. We aren’t going to get anything out of them.”

“And you think I’ll be able to?” she inquires.

“I know you’ll be able to,” Tyler confidently replies.

“You are something else,” she mumbles, and then falls into a long, almost painful silence.

“Esme?”

“I’m here. I’m cursing you out, but I’m here. Are your ears ringing? Because they should be. Jesus, Tyler. You honestly can not be serious about this.”

“I am. Dead serious. You’re the best at this type of thing. And we need the best. Especially with the kind of people we’re going against.”

“Which you’ll tell me all about when I get there,” she concludes. “I need a few hours. At least. I would need to call my mom and have Ovi get a hold of Chloe. This isn’t going to be an instant thing. I have to book a flight and…”

“Ask Nik. She’ll arrange one for you. She’s got great connections.”

“Fine,” she huffs. “I’ve got to and get shit together. I’ll call you. As soon as everything is ironed out and I know when I’ll be there. This is insane, Tyler. You’re insane.”

“Maybe. But you love me.”

“Only one days that end in Y. I’ll call you. Soon.”

“I love you,” he tells her. “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I love you too. I’ll see you in a little while.”

“I’ll see you when I see you,” he says.

“Yes,” he can hear the smile in her voice. “You will.”

#tyler rake #extraction #sanctuary #chris hemsworth character #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction fan fiction #extraction fan fic

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ohmrlove · 5 years ago

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Hi! Can i ask a scenario for the mlqc boys as mobsters and thinks Mc is just the everyday civilian, when they find out Mc is apart of some kind of gang too? Thanks

Hi there! The boys as mobsters, hm? Interesting.

I could see Victor being a boss-type, Gavin being a hitman or right hand, Lucien being the under-the-table-arms-dealer who sometimes operates as the medic/cleaner, and Kiro relies more on his cannon role as Key, hacking and supporting from the tech side (and maybe makes music on the side for fun). I think he’s too friendly and likeable to stay undercover ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Slight warning for Lucien’s part because they talk about murder by hogs. Brief warning for Gavin’s part, as it mentions death.

🍷 Victor 🍷

He’s not lying when he says he’s a business man

Victor’s plays the CEO role so well that he sometimes forgets it’s just an image booster.

Most of his mob work happens through a very encrypted connection on a smaller, private laptop that he hides behind his huge desktop. Every now and then he organizes meetings at Souvenir, as it’s so exclusive and open at random

Victor was in the middle of telling Mr. Mills that everyone needed to leave (for an upcoming meeting) when he sees you and suddenly he doesn’t know what to say

Thankfully, he’s not wearing the apron. He just looks like a regular suit coming in for a chat

Mr. Mills plays wingman (acts as a regular host and chats you up) and help him get a little info on you

Victor gives you free dessert

He held a half-assed meeting that night

It’s a slow and steady venture into dating but after about 4 months he’s semi-regular at your apartment

Being the boss of a mafia branch, Victor has a growing suspicion that you’re also in one

You’re oddly organized, have unlabeled planners and journals that you never seem to mix up (but he can’t find them when you’re gone), and always have conveniently believable excuses for random outings

Your knife work in the kitchen has a deftness and purpose that catches his eye. It’s not the finesse of a regular chef.

Call it a hunch, but Victor knows He proves it by getting you jewelry with a tracker in it–anticipating that you won’t reject it because you don’t know that he knows–which leads him to a nondescript hideout of a female gang

Victor confronts you after you get home, opening with something disarming like ‘we have something else in common’

Neither of your factions are in a war against each other so it’s awkward for the next few days but ultimately there’s a peace of mind knowing you don’t have to worry about each other because you have the same kind of ‘family’ looking out for you

🔬 Lucien 🔬

Lucien probably figures out you’re in the mafia pretty quickly. He’s big on body language and analysis

He has a hard time believing someone as gifted and beautiful as you is a simple maid but you do always smell like cleaning supplies (the story checks out).

You like to watch crime documentaries together

When you joke about wanting a pet pig for personal safety, Lucien knows that you know some stuff. Evil stuff. He’d casually but deliberately tell you something incorrect like, ‘Did you know a pig can eat a whole human if it’s really hungry? I’ve heard it works best with a lactating sow.’

“One pig can’t eat a whole human,” you correct him, “I’ve heard one pig can eat 10-14 pounds of sow feed in one sitting. And they also have trouble digesting teeth and hair. You’d need at least 10-15 pigs to eat an average-sized person.”

There’s a moment of silence where he gives you that ‘gotcha!’ shit-eating grin

He mentally compliments you for brushing it off so calmly. Nonchalantly. “Heard it on TV.”

But it’s the way he shifts closer and cozies up to you, tilting his head, that lets you know you’ve been caught

“Technically I don’t know anything,” you shrug. “I just clean.”

“Perhaps we could enlist your services sometime.” he plays with your hair and strokes the back of your neck with his thumb

It hits you. Of course he’d be in the mafia! He’s already tall and wicked smart, too good to be normal, right?!

Depending on the size of your mafia, Victor may write up a business deal to make you allies or just absorb your clan into his

📢 Gavin 📢

You were on your way home, vaguely aware of being tailed

It was actually a regular guy, not someone you’d been told to look out for

You planned to let him follow you around the corner, then beat the snot out of him, but an officer had different plans

Gavin had received several reports of a strange guy following girls home from the station and out of restaurants. He’d been playing a frustrating game of tag for about an hour, relying on reports

The perp was bouncing from girl to girl, likely just being obnoxious and walking off after too many rejections

He finally spots him, intending on checking him for weapons and to inform him of the many complaints

Gavin doesn’t know if he tackled him first, or if you roundhouse-kicked him back into the tackle

The guy’s on the ground, Gavin falls on top of him, and just stares in disbelief

That was cool! That was hot!

Gavin stumbles through a small statement/interview, asking if you’d reported him or had been around any of the other girls who’d reported him that nigh

tA few days later, he checks up on you. Now he gives you a nod when you pass each other in the streets.

Somehow it turns into dating. Gavin goes hardcore on the nighttime safety lectures and how to keep yourself safe at home (lock the doors, lock the windows, etc.)

You show him your pepper spray, your taser, and run through what you’d do if someone broke in

He’s a little nervous but has to admit you know your stuff. You give him this cute little smile that almost disarms him.

You’re really too calm running through all of this, like you don’t think you’d be in any danger. The suspect meter goes up.

Everything’s confirmed on date night. It’s a nice night–kind of chilly–but you’ve just finished eating at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant and were heading back to your car when that spine-tingling sensation of someone coming at you arose

You didn’t know if they were there for you or Gavin (being a policeman can make a lot of enemies!) but you had a throwing knife in your pocket ready to go

The man ends up being mortally wounded but Gavin doesn’t ask you any questions until people who ‘owe him a favor’ get rid of the body

He was just grateful the area didn’t have a lot of cameras.

Once you get back to your apartment a small fight explodes. He learns you’re in the mafia, and you learn he’s in the mafia.

“You are worth that sacrifice,” you told him. “I don’t care who they were after. I just didn’t want them to hurt you. You mean a lot to me, you know?”

“That’s my line,” is all he says. There’s a huge, soft smile on his face. Both of you are tired from the yelling and the screaming, but the way he pats your head and presses his forehead to yours lets you know it’ll be okay.

🎤 Kiro 🎤

He has multiple personas and works very hard at keeping them organized. Kiro’s always juggling the public persona, the person he is with his boss, and being your boyfriend

It can be a tough job but he wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world! While hacking he’s erased hospital debts and all kinds of stuff!

When Victor gives him assignments, it’s mostly to canvas an area through cameras or dig through the financials of opposing clans to have insider knowledge to bring up during deals

Since he never really shows his face during deals (more Gavin than himself), Kiro’s content to keep at his little tech business. He helps people repair their electronics for next to nothing (Victor’s money keeps the lights on).

He met you while fixing your computer and boy is a NERVOUS MESS

Like, he dropped a screwdriver, hit his head on the counter picking a screw off the floor kind of flustered

Even through all the nervous babbling he’s cute and charming. You agree to a coffee date and Kiro’s sold

It isn’t until your phone breaks (you refuse to get a new one because they’re expensive) and you won’t let him look at it that he gets suspicious

You haven’t let him look at it for almost a week, and then suddenly it’s at a repair shop

Kiro gets the bright idea to see if your phone’s really dead, hacking into the GPS system

It wasn’t broke. You were just making trips to your mafia HQ.

He doesn’t know if he’s hurt or impressed that you could pull one over him. Then again, he never really looked at you that hard because he loves you.

Kiro decides to confront you, and waits until you get settled back in at his shop. The cameras are off (can’t let them see the confession), the blinds are down, and the CLOSED sign is up. His heartbeat is in his throat, but he lets you know that he knows

If you look like you’re going to leave, he throws himself under the bus.

It makes you come back to him, straddle him in his little work chair, and demand proof.

Once you see you’re in the same business, you relax. Kiro does, too.

“You can buy my silence with hugs, kisses, and food!” he jokes.

“Can I make a down payment?” you look up at him through your lashes and he turns beet red. He didn’t think you’d play into it!You break the work chair.

Hope you liked it!

#MLQC #Mr. Love: Queen's Choice #Mr. Love Queen's Choice #Kiro x Reader #Gavin x Reader #Victor x Reader #Lucien x Reader #MLQC Gavin #MLQC Victor #mlqc lucien #MLQC Kiro #Mr. Love Queen's Choice Gavin #Mr. Love Queen's Choice Kiro #Mr. Love Queen's Choice Victor #Mr. Love Queen's Choice Lucien

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thereasontherumisgone · 5 years ago

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The Wayward Boys (pt.1)

Based off of this

In the beginning there wasn’t much, just a planet that had so much potential to it that from the dust and ash of the newly formed universe some Gods appeared. Seven Gods to be exact. They flourished long before the Greek Gods, Egyptian Gods, Norse Gods and the others, in fact they may have been the first. Those Gods brought life to the planet and helped humanity get along for a few years before, inevitably they all started to lose their power and die; It was time for new Gods it seemed. Five of them succumbed to the power loss and death, two of them remained with their power and Godly status intact but were removed from any history book or cave painting, surviving only to fulfill the last prophecy from their time. To save the world, or end it.

You wouldn’t be reading this if they chose to end it. This is the story of how those two gods and seven unlikely mortals saved the world.

We begin with our Gods finding their chosen seven first, so let’s get into that shall we?

Danny Boye is your everyday run of the mill mild mannered young man with a keen interest in computers and every other kind of technology. He works in some unimportant corporate firm as part of their IT team, dealing with suits all day, their computer issues and puns about his name, are the usual problems of his days and he expected it to be what plagued his day today but alas one of the servers had began acting up and so he was sent to fix that which changed up his routine slightly. When he’s not being a paid computer geek he’s at his other job, the one that isn’t strictly viewed as legal but pays well and helps people more than his normal job. Have you guessed what he does yet? Danny Boye is a superhuman technopath who works for an underground hacking group, not the Anonymous.

But today he was being a slightly less well paying computer nerd, sitting in a cool darkly lit room room rewiring a server when the room grew colder and the neon blue lights above started to flicker, Danny frowned but decided to shrug it off and continue finishing up the minor maintenance work he seen before him when it happened again but this time was accompanied by a voice.

“Daniel Lukas Boye.” The voice spoke from behind him, softly but with a small hint of authority, “Or is it Hacker Seven? Or Danny Seven?” Oh shit, Danny thought. “Oh shit indeed my young friend.” Danny turned to look in the direction of the voice, expecting to be greeted by someone who perhaps wanted to arrest him, only to be met with a lone man who looked to be in his forties, wearing a gray shawl over a slightly darker grey cardigan. . .and more gray clothes, this man had a theme; The clothes didn’t bother him, what bothered him was the scythe this man had, it seemed to almost glow in the dim lights. Danny got to his feet, still holding onto a wire and ready to use it to zap this man, the man just raised an eyebrow. “Well whoever you decide you want to be today needs to come with me.” He hummed.

“I’m not going anywhere with you until I know your intentions.” Danny spat, glancing up to see if the security cameras were seeing this.

“Unfortunately you don’t get a say in that matter.” The man walked towards him and before Danny had the chance to zap him, his body became limp a the man tapped his forehead, then lifted his unconscious body over his shoulder with ease and disappeared into the shadows.

Elsewhere in the world, Joshua ‘Rusty.’ Marquez was currently in a bar fight, it all started because Rusty had the audacity to look in the general direction of the resident asshole and then everyone in the bar decided to join in and were now fighting among themselves while Rusty himself decided he was bored of this particular fight and knocked aforementioned asshole out cold before he felt someone grab his shoulder and so he turned around and punched this person in the face too and they hit the ground like a bag of potatoes.

“This is fun.” The voice in Rusty’s head chuckled and Rusty had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Three o’clock, coming at you with a bottle.” The voice hummed and Rusty picked up a chair, spun around on his foot before the person coming at him grabbed the chair right from his grasp and tossed it aside, lifting their bottle, a plastic water bottle to take a sip an then the man gave him a smile.

“Hey buddy.” The man said, he looked in his forties, wearing casual clothes with the exception of the camouflage style jacket, his hair was dark and there was something in his eyes that said he’d seen more than the average man in his life. Rusty frowned and looked around the bar, frowning more when he realized that nobody in the bar was paying attention to them despite this being on of those fights where everyone got involved while the bar staff tried to call the police. “I’m going to need you to come with me.” And before Rusty could step back, he felt a soft touch on his shoulder and the world around him started to go black and he fell unconscious. The man before him picked up his body and walked outside, nobody noticing them leave or the man taking a body into the shadows and disappearing into thin air.

The man laid down Rusty on a bed next to another young man and a skeleton before he turned to a man in gray.

“I don’t remember hiring a skeleton.” He tilted his head as he looked at the pile of bones, the man in gray shrugged.

“You wanted this specific person, that’s what is currently left of them.” The man in gray shrugged again and the other man frowned as he thought. “But for now, it’s three down and four more to go, who is next, Petyr?”

“The Glitch, The Creator, The Genius and whoever is wearing that armour.” The man called Petyr said. “You get the skeleton to a functioning level and I’ll get the rest of them.”

#josh writes #so it begins #superheroes #this will be continued later #writeblr #feedback is always appreciated #the wayward boys

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myassgoodbye · 6 years ago

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The most ridiculous shit I see from terfs is “now in this PC dystopia we’re living in, if someone says he’s a girl now, he has his junk cut off in 2 days & if anyone calls him him, they’ll be arrested on the spot.”

Um, no. Even just having read posts while scrolling my dash, not even actively seeking it, I’ve seen posts about whether a given type of surgery is worth it, what to expect, etc. & besides the fact it’s expense af & you could lose your job while recovering, no surgeon will do a surgery like that without your going through extensive counseling. You know how with gastric bypasses, they often require you to lose so much weight before the surgery to show you’re making an effort & it’s worth doing the surgery? It’s basically the same principle.

Plus, with terfs & your everyday, run of the mill trans/homophobes being incredibly prevelant, you can bet it’s not that simple to transition. You know how there are people who say “but there’s so many black people on TV; racism must be over,” when that’s clearly not the case? Imagine that, but there’s an even higher percentage of openly transphobic people. And no matter how many friends you surround yourself with who support your transition, you still have to deal with changing your ID in states that don’t want to handle trans people, customer service of every sort calling you the wrong pronoun over the phone & not correcting themselves, people peering at you in public.

I work for a financial institution’s call center & a woman on my team has complained about having to deal with trans people on the phone. She refers to them by the wrong pronouns & acts like they’re being rude by insisting she use the right pronouns. She says she’s ok with them but clearly isn’t. Management has never told her to call people by their new pronouns. Even though if you suspect someone’s impersonating a customer, you still say “Ms Jones, you need to visit a branch,” she refuses to use the right pronoun for the person she suspects is impersonating a customer. But no higher ups jumped down her throat about it.

You can bet there are quite a few aspects of normal life controlled by transphobic people, whether they’re vocal about it or subtle. So it’s nowhere near as easy as surgery, ID, new gender. It likely will never be easy, even without the medical component.

#lgbt #anti terf

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softboywriting · 7 years ago

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Happily Ever After | Soulmate AU | Shawn Mendes

A/N: Soulmate AU - Soulmates are born with matching birthmarks and when they are close to each other the birthmarks ache and burn until you touch your soulmate.

Word Count: 11k

| Masterlist | “Ah shit!” you cry out as you drop the muffins you were carrying on the counter. You hold your hand, rubbing your thumb over the birthmark on the back of your hand. Ernie, your boss, pops his head out from the swinging door to the back room to see if you’re okay. You hold your hand up and shake your head. “It’s just hurting again.”

“You know that means your soulmate is around here,” Erie teases, a playful smile on his face. He steps past you to survey the small dining area in front of the bakery cases. He hums, tapping his chin with one flour covered finger as he eyes the customers. There are only three of them in the sitting area. A couple of elderly ladies who came in every couple days to gossip, a older man with a long beard that he was picking crumbs out of.

“I really don’t think it’s one of our customers,” you chuckle as you gather the muffins and turn to put them on the glass display stand on the counter. You place them one by one in a circle and then stack the last three on top before putting the cloche over them. “Besides, it always happens so fast that I’m starting to think it’s just a nerve or something.”

“No no,” Ernie protests, waving his flour covered hands at you. “Soulmate marks don’t lie. That guy...or girl, whatever, it out there passing this shop every day. One day you’re going to meet them.”

“I sure hope so,” you laugh and start to straighten up the large display case attached to the front counter. “I’m real tired of being single.” You squat down and Ernie puts his hand on your shoulder comfortingly. “I know, you want me to be happy, but maybe it just isn’t in the cards for me y’know? I’ll just take over the bakery in a few months and live my life as a lonely bakery lady.”

Ernie lets out a defiant grunt. “Don’t talk like that kid. You’re still very young, besides, all you have to do is find out which person it is that passes the shop everyday. You’re practically halfway to happily ever after. Besides, you don’t have to take the bakery. I can sell it to someone else.”

You look up and Ernie is beaming down at you. You put your hand over his on your shoulder and smile back. “You know I can’t let you do that. I was practically raised in this place, but thank you for having faith in my soulmate even when I don’t.”

“You’re like a daughter to me. How could I do anything less?” he says softly and turns to go back through the swinging door to the back room.

Your hand aches again, throbbing like you’d been burned by one of the sheet pans. It was an ache you knew all too well, but this one couldn’t be cured by some ice and aloe vera gel. It was particularly bad today too. You sigh, sliding the display case door closed as you stand up. The second you’re upright you see a guy standing outside the front door. He’s on the phone, pacing back and forth while talking. Quickly, you scan the windows of the shop, looking for anyone else that may be standing around. There is absolutely nobody. The ache in your hand gets worse and you reach for the damp rag on the shelf below the counter. It’s not much but it feels like it takes the edge off a bit as you press it to your hand.

The guy turns around, looking into the shop and you swear to god your heart stops. He is looking right at you, a confused expression on his face as he says something to the person on the phone. Quickly he hangs up, pocketing the phone as he walks into the bakery and up to the counter. You’re sure your heart is beating out of your chest like in the cartoons. It had to be obvious, he had to know too. Wait, why wasn’t he holding his hand like it hurt? Was his not burning too? Was he not the one?

“I need to order a dozen muffins please,” he says in the loveliest voice you’ve ever heard.

You stare at him, dumbfounded as if he had spoken some language from another planet. “Huh?” you ask quietly, eyes locked on his way too pink lips. Why were they like that? Was he biting them? They didn’t look chapped. Who had lips that pink? Why did he have to look so good? Why was he smiling? Oh god he’s smiling. His teeth are gorgeous. Why is he smiling like that?

“I need a dozen muffins to go?” he asks, tilting his head a bit. He glances down at your name tag and raises his eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

Ernie pops his head out of the swinging door to ask you something and is met with the sight of you holding your hand in the rag and Good Looking staring at you like there was egg on your face. “Can I help you sir?” Ernie smiles and walks over, pushing you aside gently to take the order of the man before you.

“Yeah,” the guys says, eyes glancing over to where you’ve scooted aside to hide behind the small drink refrigerator on the counter, that playful smile still pulling up the corners of his mouth. “I was looking to get a dozen muffins to go. A variety is fine, no lemon please.”

“Of course!” Ernie cheers, eagerly moving to the display case and readying one of the foldable take out boxes. He gathers a dozen plus a couple cookies for good measure. “Here you are, I threw in a few cookies for the trouble. They’re our newest item.” He punches in the dozen cost on the register and glances over at you, eyes going to your hand that you’ve shoved into your apron pocket.

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” Good Looking says with eyes still glued to you. It makes your heart weak and your hand ache something fierce.

“They’re this little lady’s own recipe. She’s got a good taste for new flavors. Don’t ya?” Ernie says, trying to coax you out of your corner. He seems to have picked up that this wasn’t your run of the mill cute guy meltdown because you’re literally favoring your hand as if it had been cut off at the wrist and you’re as red as a tomato.

“Yeah, good taste,” you nod eagerly and glue your eyes to the floor.

“Thank you,” Good Looking chuckles, grabbing his box off the counter and turning to leave.

“Oh!” Ernie calls out and you give him a pleading look, like just let the guy leave already. “If you leave a business card in our jar we pick an office each Friday and cater three dozen cookies free.”

“Hmm.” Good Looking sets the box down on the counter and pulls out his wallet. You notice a sparrow tattoo on his hand right where a birthmark that would match yours would be. Maybe he wasn’t the one making your hand hurt, maybe it was a coincidence and the real person was just outside the building where you couldn’t see. Why would somone get a tattoo over their birthmark? No...no it had to be him. “Here we go.” He pulls out a white card and places it in the little mason jar on the counter.

“Good luck! Have a good day!” Ernie smiles and Good Looking leaves, the bell over the door dinging as it closes. The second he’s out of sight Ernie rounds on you. “That was him wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know! I thought it was and he was so good looking I just panicked! He didn’t seem phased though, and he has a tattoo on his his hand right where the birthmark should be. It can’t be him! It just can’t be!”

“No no no, it’s him. Your hand stopped hurting yet?” He looks down and you pull it from your apron and pull the rag away. It felt normal again. Shit. Ernie was right, your gut, was right. “It has, hasn’t it?”

You nod and Ernie reaches for the jar with the business cards in it. There are only three and only two of them are white. He hands them both to you and you look down at them.

One says:

Jacob Bennett

Bennett Tailor and Fitting

The other says:

Shawn Mendes

CEO

Mendes and Davenport Technologies

“Which one is it?” you ask, eyes wide. You were not going to cold call either of these guys and ask them if their hand was burning in the middle of a bakery. What kind of weirdo would do that. “Ernie how am I supposed to know which one of these was that guy?”

Ernie shrugs. “I guess we have two winners for the weekly drawing?” A smile spreads across his face and he laughs. “You’ll be hand delivering both! That way you know which one it is when you drop off the cookies!”

“No! I can’t!”

“You can and will! You have to meet your soulmate kid, I’ll be damned if I don’t do all I can to help you now that we have it narrowed down. Friday you are taking three dozen cookies to Mr. Bennett and Mr. Mendes and we will have our answer.”

You groan, leaning your head back against the wall and sinking down a bit. “I need a break,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose and sighing heavily.

“Clean up table three and you can take a walk and clear your head alright?” Ernie offers and you nod.

While gathering the mug and plate off table three you overhear the two older ladies, Betty and Mae, who always came in to gossip every Wednesday over tea and cakes. Usually you try not to eavesdrop but you can’t help it this time because the name Mendes comes up, the name on the business card in your apron pocket.

“Haven’t you heard? Manny Mendes has fallen ill. They are really worried this time, the pneumonia is pretty bad,” Mae says over a mouth full of cheese danish.

“Oh yes, their whole family must be just a mess. I heard their boy has come back from New York to be with him, leaving the company with his partner for the time. I wouldn’t trust Nash Davenport alone with a dog let alone a whole company for any amount of time.”

Mae lets out a laugh and sips her tea. “Nash never did seem like a good boy. Didn’t he used to chase that little girl down the block, oh what was her name, Caiti? Yeah, he was a terror.”

“Yes, that was Nash. Shawn was the only boy who grew up with a good head on his shoulders. I swear Manny and Karen got blessed with that boy. Is he married yet?”

“Heavens no. I heard he hasn’t found a soulmate, poor boy will be nearly twenty five this year. It’s so unusual isn’t it?”

Betty nods eagerly. “Oh yeah, most soulmates are together by the time they’re twenty if not earlier. Kids these days though, they leave their homes and go see the world. Did you know nearly 80% of soulmates are born and raised in the same towns?”

You nearly drop the mug you have balanced on the plate as you wipe down the table with a rag from your apron. The two ladies look over at you and smile. “Ah, sorry, just a little clumsy today,” you chuckle, holding up the dishware for emphasis.

“It’s that boy who came in isn’t it?” Betty asks with a knowing smile.

“Who?” you ask, playing dumb. You know better than to give these chatty cathys anything to talk about. As soon as you did you would be the talk of the town and that was the last thing you needed.

“Oh come off it, you know just who we mean!” Mae giggles. “Tall, handsome, left his card in your little cup. That boy had eyes for you through the door!”

Betty reaches over and playfully whacks Mae’s arm. “Oh Mae! You’re going to embarrass the poor girl.”

You laugh nervously and offer to bring them more tea and fresh danishes, they insist and you hurry to the back to get their new order. As soon as you deliver them fresh from the oven danishes and a fresh kettle of tea you’re out the door, announcing to Ernie that you were going to take a short walk and get some air.

You take a seat on the bench just outside the shop and pull the business cards from your apron. You slip Jacob Bennett’s back in and turn Shawn Mendes’ over in your fingers. One side has a pattern embossed on it with a logo that says MD TECH in dark blue lettering. MD... Mendes and Davenport. You flip it back over and look at the name and info below. Sure enough, the address listed is in New York City.

“Well shit,” you mutter, shaking your head and tucking the card away. Either your soulmate was a local tailor or CEO of one of the largest medical equipment companies in North America. You bring your hands up to your face and groan. “I swear to god you better be a tailor,” you say, looking at the light birthmark between your thumb and forefinger. “I am not moving to New York for no man, no siree.” In your heart you knew he wasn’t the tailor though. You would have crossed paths before now if he was.

The old guy with crumbs in his beard leaves, waving politely to you as he passes. You glance back into the shop and see Mae and Betty gigging amongst themselves still. Ernie would be fine on his own for a few more minutes. You close your eyes and lean your head back against the window. “How did my life get this complicated?”

________________________

Friday morning you’re dreading going to work. You’ve hit your alarm three times now and this time you have to get up. Ernie would know you were faking if you called in sick today of all days. You get up and head to the shower, hurrying through to get dressed and out the door as soon as possible. You skip breakfast, you could always have something at the shop if you got hungry. Right now you weren’t hungry in the slightest. Nerves were eating you up.

As soon as you get to the bakery, Ernie is already there and the door is unlocked although the closed sign is still flipped over. You lock your bike to the rack outside and go in and put your purse away with your water bottle. You push open the door to the back and find Ernie is boxing up a couple dozen of chocolate chip cookies.

“Morning,” you say dully as you reach for a warm biscuit on a nearby tray. “Are those for Mr. Mendes or Mr. Bennett?”

“They’re actually for The Beanery. I haven’t called either of the guys yet, the address on Mr.Mendes’ card is in New York. I have to see if he has a local office we can take them to.”

“Oh is it?” you ask with a little smirk. You knew the address was in New York, you just hadn’t told Ernie that because you’re sure he would have made you call and arrange another local location to drop off the cookies at. The last thing you wanted to do was call anyone, let alone the guy you were pretty sure was your soulmate.

Ernie gives you a look like he knows that you’re being iffy about the whole soulmate set up. He doesn’t say anymore on the topic, just hands you the two dozen cookies. You take the box and head for the front door, you delivered to The Beanery almost every day because the girls who worked there didn’t usually have time to swing by and pick up their order. It was no trouble, the place was only a few blocks down and around the corner.

You pass by Bennett’s Tailor shop on the way and you pause, looking up at the big gold lettered sign. It was kind of tacky to be honest. You would think as a tailor he would have chosen something more sophisticated and sleek for the font of his business name, but y’know, it was whatever. The sign says closed and opening hours were 9am to 5pm on weekdays. You raise your eyebrows and keep going toward your destination a few shops up.

The moment you’re outside the coffee shop your hand starts aching, not quite burning but just throbbing and you look around you. There are loads of people around and you can’t be sure who is causing the ache. Your eyes go to the tailor shop to see if the owner was getting in early but there is no one near it. Deciding to ignore the ache, you open the door and take the cookies up to the side counter where Lindsay, the owner, is making some speciality coffee for a customer.

“Hey Lins, I got your cookies,” you announce over the loud machine that she’s using to whip some frappe or something. Seeing all this fancy equipment makes you glad you only served hot tea and standard black coffee with cream or sugar over at the bakery. You don’t think you could wrap your head around all of it.

Lindsay looks up and smiles, eyes crinkling at the sight of you. She was one of the cutest girls you’d ever seen, chubby cheeks and red lipstick that matched her red hair. She was a character to say in the least. “Cookies! Perfect! I’ve already sold three so you arrived just in time,” she says as she takes the box and goes to the opposite counter. She leans out and yells into the sitting area, “Cookies for Cody and Linda are here. Come get’em!”

She hands the box off to a tall blonde girl beside her and returns to you. She digs in her apron and pulls out a couple bills to pay you with. “How’s things up there? Is Ernie still trying to hook you up with every guy under 30 who walks in for a loaf of bread?” Lindsay laughs and you count out the money she’s given you.

“Yeah of course. Actually we have narrowed down my potential soulmate,” you bite your lip and pocket the cash. “I’m going to find out for sure today. I have to deliver cookies to two places and whichever one makes my hand feel like I’ve stuck it in boiling water is the winner. Yay!” you cheer sarcastically.

Lindsay reaches over and squeezes your arm as she does a little excited dance in place. “I’m so happy for you! I know you’re probably super nervous but it’s okay, you’re gonna be so happy. Remember when I met Michael? I’m sure nothing could be worse.”

“Oh my god, yeah, he was a nightmare. You cried for like a week because he literally chewed your head off for fucking up his macchiato.”

“Yeah,” Lindsay laughs and sighs lovingly. “But he came back and apologized and asked me if I would forgive him and maybe go out with him to talk because he was pretty sure I was his soulmate because his balls were on fire and that’s why he chewed me out, the pain was almost unbearable.”

You let out a snort and shake your head. “Right, you have the weird birthmark story, thank god mine is normal.”

“Yep it’s right on my-”

“Lindsay!” the tall blonde yells over the hustle and bustle of baristas. “Espresso machine is on the fritz again!”

“Gotta go, see you around kid. Good luck!”

You wave goodbye and head for the front doors. Your hand suddenly zings again and you ball your fingers up into a fist. You take one last look around the coffee shop before opening the door, but you don’t even know who you’re looking for. Sure you knew what one of the guys looked like, but the other was a total mystery.

________________________

The minute you step into the bakery Ernie calls you to the counter from the back room. There is a tall guy standing there, short brown hair, fair skin, mid twenties maybe. You smile politely and walk around the counter.

“Hi, can I help you?” you ask cheerfully, smiling your biggest friendliest smile at the gentleman before you.

“Ah, yes,” he chuckles, looking over at the bakery case. “The man who was up here seems to have had to run to take something out of the oven. I’d like a dozen of your chocolate chip cookies and a dozen of the peanut butter.”

You turn and go to the case, gathering his order and boxing it up. You punch it into the register and announce the total. He hands over a credit card and you happen to glance at the name on the front as you hand it back. The moment you see it your stomach drops. Jacob Bennett.

Jacob gather his boxes of cookies and waves goodbye with a bright smile. You turn and march through the swinging door the moment he is out of the shop. “Ernie! Did you call the Bennett guy yet? About the catered cookies?”

“No, not yet. His store hours said 9am so I didn’t want to-”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh, leaning on the rolling table and taking a deep breath. “That guy was Jacob Bennett and my hand,” you stick your hand up for emphasis “is perfectly fine! Which means the guy who was in here the other day is Shawn Mendes and he is my soulmate.”

“Perfect, because I already called him.”

“You what?”

Ernie grins and puts a batch of hard rolls into the oven. “Yeah, I called him first. He said we can deliver the cookies to the Kings Estate. I’ve got them boxed up over there,” he says pointing to three flat boxes of cookies on the nearby counter. “Better hurry. Our product shines best when it’s fresh.”

You walk over and grab the boxes, side eyeing Ernie as you head for the doors. Kings Estate was a massive sprawling old castle just outside of town that had been renovated for tours and events. In the big main building that was still standing was a home where the owners of the estate lived. The owners who happened to be the Mendes family. You set the boxes of cookies in the attached travel basket on your bike that you parked out front and head for the castle, and your soulmate.

________________________

The ride to the back door of the Kings Estate home was bumpy and left something to be desired when riding a bike. It had taken you nearly half an hour to get there and then another ten minutes just to find and ride down the hill that had signs that said “Delivery Entrance This Way” but here you are, parking your bike against the side of the old brick building and looking up at it’s towering architecture. It’s quite beautiful in a historic sense. You had been to the castle a few times while growing up, field trips with school and all, but never the renovated home.

The sky rumbles above you and you take a glance around at the dark clouds that were blowing in. Great, you hadn’t brought a jacket or your umbrella. The ride back was going to be damp to say in the least. You reach out and knock on the big wooden double doors after glancing at the doorbell that had a sign taped over it that read OUT OF SERVICE. For as wealthy as they were, you would think they could get a doorbell fixed in a timely manner.

Seconds tick by and you stand there, rocking on your feet, cookie boxes in hand. Sure enough your hand starts to ache, a slow burning tingling ache coursing across your hand. It makes your heart stop, a lump forms in your throat. He was close. On the other side of the door? Was he going to answer?

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to steady your nerves. So what if he was your soulmate, that didn’t meant he was just going to scoop you up and change your whole life. What were you, cinderella? Hardly. You chuckle to yourself but quickly snap your head up as the door before you opens and there is an older woman standing before you.

“Hello, I didn’t know we had any deliveries today,” she says in the sweetest voice. “Are you sure this wasn’t for the maintenance crew at the castle?”

“No, not it’s not,” you start, looking down at the boxes and balling your fist up under them because the pain was almost too much. “These are for Shawn Mendes. He won our weekly catered cookies and said we could deliver them to this address?”

The woman looks to her left, just inside the closed door beside her. “Oh,” she nods, seemingly being told something by someone just out of sight. “Yes, yes, I’ll take them.”

You hand over the cookies and her hand brushes against your birthmark, making you flinch and grit your teeth. “I hope you have a nice day,” you manage, almost holding back tears. “Our card is in the box for all your future catering need.”

“Are you alright?” she asks, giving you a concerned motherly look. “You seem to be in pain. Can I get you a drink? Did you get hurt on the way over?”

“No it’s n-”

“It’s her hand,” a voice says from beside the woman and the second wooden door opens. It’s the guy from the shop, Shawn. He’s in a button down with rolled up sleeves and a pair of black slacks. “It’s burning isn’t it?”

Your eyes widen and you stumble back on the uneven gravel as you watch the woman disappear into the house. “Yeah. It’s like I stuck it in a pot of boiling water.” You rub it harshly, willing the pain away but it isn’t working. Shawn steps toward you and your heart pounds, blood rushing in your ears almost making you dizzy. Breathe. Fuck you have to breathe. You take in a deep breath and Shawn stops.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” he soothes as he offers his hand to you. “Take my hand.”

You shake your head, biting your lips and staring at his outstretched hand.

He takes a step closer and you shy away, pulling your hands close to your chest. “I promise I don’t bite. Come on, take it. Trust me.”

“No,” you whisper. “I can’t. I’m scared.”

“Hey, I won’t hurt you. I just want to see your hand.”

“No, no, no,” you close your eyes as Shawn reaches out, fingertips on your hand as he pulls it away from your chest. The ache fades away, quickly turning into a pleasant warmth that courses through your veins starting at your hand.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” Shawn mutters, his thumb brushing over your birthmark. “I never thought I’d find you.”

“Did you know, the other day in the bakery?” you ask, pulling your hand away.

“Oh I knew,” he chuckles, rubbing his hand over his tattoo. “I knew the minute I saw you through the door. Y’know you were so cute the way you were blushing and just losing your mind because I was right there and you were looking at your soulmate.” He grins, taking your hand again. “I was actually going to come back today. My dad is really sick so I didn’t want to leave yesterday but I knew I had to come see you again. Then you just show up at my door with cookies looking as adorable as can be...” He hums, eyes going over you in your dress with matching colored tights. “How did I get so lucky?”

You blush at his attentions. He was really laying it on you and you didn’t mind one bit. The guy was fine as fine could be. “You knew? Why didn’t you say something? It would have saved me a lot of trouble and worry in the last twenty four hours.”

“You were too nervous, literally hiding from me behind the cooler on the counter,” Shawn says, pulling you closer to him and under the small eve just out of the rain. His fingers come up to your face and he tucks some hair behind your ear. “Tell me, are you nervous because you’ve just met your soulmate, or are you nervous because of who I am?”

“B-both?” You swallow hard and look up at him. To be honest you never thought you would be so nervous to meet your soulmate, and when you did, you assumed he or she would be some regular person with a regular job. You never expected someone like Shawn Mendes. If fairytales were real, you were most definitely in the middle of one.

“Both, hmm,” he purrs questioningly. “Well, I wonder what we can do to fix that.” He leads you a few steps more so you’re fully inside the doorway. The rain picks up and drenches the courtyard, pooling along divets in the gravel, soaking everything to the core.

“I can’t stay,” you blurt out. “I have to go back to work. Ernie doesn’t have another front end person. I can’t leave him there.”

“Right. Shit.” Shawn shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out his keys. “I’ll give you a ride. I can’t let you walk back.”

“But my bike?” you ask, pointing to your bike next to the doors. “I don’t want to leave it here.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring it to you when the rain stops.” He grabs a jacket off a nearby hook and hands it to you. “Come on, the Jeep is mine.” He clicks the fob on his keys and the lights flash, signalling it was unlocked.

You put the jacket over your head and hold it up as you run to the car. It helps keep you pretty dry and you crawl into his car, your butt only a little wet as you take a seat. Your hand was aching, but it was different this time, warmer, pleasant.

Shawn gets in the drivers side and he is soaked, his button down clinging to his skin reveals quite a physique underneath. You blush, cheeks going a deep shade of pink as you find your mind wandering to what he would look like with nothing on. He glances at you for just a moment before he starts up the car and you could swear he smirks as if he knows just what you’re thinking about.

Shawn backs out of the parking space and heads for the road you came in on. The moment you get to the gates he stops and looks over at you. “Give me your hand,” he says softly. “Please, I know you need it too.”

You put your hand out and he takes it, threading his finger between yours while keeping one hand on the wheel. It’s far too intimate but it feels so right. It feels so good the way his touch makes warmth spread up your arm and into your whole body. “Thanks for the ride,” you mumble, not sure what you should say or if you should talk at all. It felt like if you said the wrong thing this would all come shattering down around you.

“It’s no problem. You would be soaked if you had walked, that dress clinging to you all over...” he trails off and you can feel your cheeks burning. So he was thinking the same thing you were about him. “Couldn’t have you walking around town like that,” he smiles, thumb stroking back and forth over your skin gently.

“I would be a sight to see,” you chuckle and he hums in agreement. He pulls up to the front of the bakery and the soft light from inside is glowing on the sidewalk in the overcast grayness. “Thanks again,” you smile and he releases your hand. “I’ll see you around?”

“I’ll stop by tomorrow. I’d love more of those cookies of yours that I got the other day.”

“The blueberry ricotta shortcake ones Ernie sent with you?” you ask, eyebrows raised. Shawn hums and you blush for the billionth time. “I’m not sure we will have any of them for a while. The ingredients can be kind of expensive.”

“Well, whatever you have then. I’ll taste anything you want me to.”

“Anything?” you ask, trying to gauge if he was trying to be flirty or not.

Shawn eyes go over you as he says, “Anything,” in the most ridiculously flirty tone.

His voice makes you hot and you find the door handle, pulling it and then pushing the door open. The rain splatters on your arm and you step out into the cold downpour. It really helps you come back to your senses because Shawn was seriously riling you up. You duck under the awning outside the front doors and pull them open to get inside as quick as you can. Shawn pulls away as you look back, but you know he will return shortly.

“You’re back!” Ernie cheers as he comes out of the back upon hearing the bell over the door. “Did you meet him? Is he a good guy?”

“He is...something,” you giggle, leaning your head back against the door. “He’s going to come back tomorrow. When he does you better not be weird.”

“Me? Weird? Never!”

You narrow your eyes and point at Ernie and he makes a ridiculous face at you before ducking back into the back. “Did anyone stop by?”

“Just the usual morning crowd, I handled it!” Ernie pops his head out and smiles at you. “I could have handled it all day, y’know, if you wanted to stay with Mr. Mendes.”

“Ernie!” you yell and throw a rag at him off a nearby counter. He hurries back into the back cackling and you groan, knowing as soon as Shawn came back Ernie was going to be a terror.

________________________

“I heard you met your soulmate!” your sister, Tara, squeals as you walk through the front door of the small house the two of you shared. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Tara, I didn’t know until today,” you laugh and lock the door. You kick your shoes off in the tray beside the door and hang your purse up on a hook. “How could I tell you before I knew?”

“That isn’t what I heard,” she clucks as she comes around and puts her hands on her hips, standing in front of you, blocking your way into the living room. “I heard you met him yesterday but you denied him!”

“What?” you laugh. “Who is telling these wild stories?”

Tara grabs your hand and leads you into the living room. “I heard it from Barb who was told by Chris who works at the bookstore who overheard Betty Johnson telling Kathy Smits that you met him in the bakery and you denied him and you wouldn’t even talk to him!”

“Oh my god that is quite the game of telephone.” You shake your head and sink into the old couch, grabbing the nearby pillow and hugging it to your chest. “Here is what really happened.”

You finish up recapping the last three days for Tara and she stares at you dumbfounded. “Holy shit! He is like...tech royalty! How on earth did my baby sister get so lucky?” Tara yells and leans back in her recliner to stare at the ceiling in amazement.

“Funny thing is, he thinks he’s the lucky one.”

“No! No he does not!”

You laugh and shake your head. “He really does. He was looking at me like I was prettiest thing he’d ever seen and asked how he got so lucky. I really don’t think he owns a mirror because if he saw himself he would think I was about as pretty as a bag of trash.”

“Oh you’re not ugly at all. Don’t talk like that, you know you’re pretty as well as I do. When are you going to see him again?”

“Tomorrow,” you roll your eyes and Tara throws her pillow at you. “Hey! What was that for?”

“Rolling your eyes. Don’t be such a brat, he’s going to love you. It sounds like he’s already pretty taken with you as it is.”

“I’m just nervous. I mean he’s my soulmate!”

“I know!” Tara squeals and leans back in her chair. “Don’t fuck it up. I mean, one of us has to be happy in this life.”

You look at your sister softly and you can see the way her face kind of falls. She is happy for you, elated that you’ve found your soulmate and he’s someone really interesting, but the hurt from her losing her soulmate will always be there. You know there would always be a little jealousy when you found yours. You were all Tara had left, your mom passed away a few years ago and your dad was never in the picture. When Tara lost Ryan...she was never the same.

“You know it wasn’t your fault,” you mumble, reaching over and taking her hand. “Don’t tell me you still blame yourself.”

“No, no I know. It was an accident. I know that.”

“Good. Let’s make dinner together tonight then? You and me and that shitty old stove.”

Tara cracks a smile and squeezes your hand. “Yeah, us versus that old piece of shit.”

You laugh and she laughs with you. “For real though, we need to have the landlord replace that thing. It’s going to actually catch fire one day.”

________________________

The clock on your wall tells you it’s after midnight. Your mind had been racing with thoughts of Shawn since you finished dinner with Tara. For hours you scrubbed the internet for any information you could get on him. All his social media accounts were private so you weren’t going to get any info there. The most you could do was request to follow on instagram, which you did.

You moved on from social media to just media. Searching MD Tech and his name lead to a few articles but mostly they were focused on the company and he didn’t appear in most of the photos. For being a CEO of a massive company, the guy managed to keep his life pretty well hidden. It made you worry, maybe he was hiding something. Then again he could just be really private, unlike his partner, Nash Davenport. The amount of articles about him and his playboy ways you had to wade through to get even a picture of Shawn out of was astounding. How could someone so private be partners with someone so...not private.

A notification pops up on the top of your phone and you open it. Shawn accepted your follow request and sent you a message.

Shawn: Hey i’m glad you found me. I’ve been trying to find you all night. I realized I forgot to give you my number.

You: Oh yeah I guess the picture of a rose as my icon doesn't make it easy to identify me huh?

Shawn: Lol yeah and i don't know your last name

You: Oh right well you do now

Shawn: Mmhmm yeah its nice. Would be better as mine though.

You: Omg did you seriously just say that?

Shawn: Guess i did.

You just stare at your phone, cheeks pink as you reread that message over and over. He was really forward and that was just...not something you were used to with guys. It made your heart race but you try not to think too much of it. He was just being flirty. You could be flirty too.

Shawn: So what have you dug up on me? I know you’ve been looking me up if you found my instagram.

You: not much. You’re a real mystery man. Can’t find even one article about a one night stand gone wrong or anything lol

Shawn: thats good. I keep my life very private. I try not to make friends with anyone too unsavory

You: good to know. Some guys stick their dick in anything that moves which usually leads to a lot of other bad choices too

Shawn: lol yeah that is not me at all. I prefer serious relationships but havent had one in a while.

You: serious? Even though you hadn’t met your soulmate yet?

Shawn: I never thought I’d meet you. I’m twenty five I figured you just weren’t out there anymore.

You: can I ask you about your tattoo? On your hand.

Shawn: you want to know why I covered my birthmark right? Like I said i never thought i would find you so i didn’t care and covered it up.

You: did it change the way it felt when you were near me?

Shawn: it felt like my skin was boiling off when i was near you. I think the tattoo made it more sensitive. What did it feel like for you?

You: Same. but sometimes it was more tingly like pins and needles on my skin.

Shawn: yeah... but that part is over now. you should get some sleep. I know you have to work tomorrow.

You: you need to sleep too.

Shawn: I’ll be fine. Go to sleep.

You: not until you say you’re going to sleep

Shawn: stubborn. Do I have to call you and make sure you’re actually going to sleep?

You: like facetime me?

Shawn: Yeah why not?

You: okay

You send Shawn your phone number and within a few minutes your phone is ringing. Nerves almost get the best of you and you really want to hang up on him but you don’t. A moment later his face is on the screen, he’s laying in bed on his side with a sleep mask pushed up on his forehead.

“Hey you,” he smiles and you prop your phone up on your nightstand. “Is this weird?” he chuckles.

“Doesn’t feel weird.” You lay on your side so you’re facing him. “Do you think it’s weird?”

“Nah.” He’s quiet and the two of you sort of just stare at each other on the tiny screens. He breaks first, chuckling and presses his face into his pillow. “You’re really cute.”

“You’re not so bad yourself. I mean, look at you. Such a rich pretty boy.”

“Rich pretty boy huh? Is that what you see when you look at me?”

You laugh and bury your face in your pillow. “I’m just teasing you. You’re really gorgeous and you seem like a really good guy. Honestly, I can’t believe you’re my soulmate.”

“I’m so glad I met you.”

“Me too.”

Shawn pulls his phone closer so his whole face is on screen and you can see a couple zits on his jaw. So maybe he wasn’t as perfect as he seemed. You chuckle to yourself and he smiles at you. “Go to sleep or I won’t come see you tomorrow.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Oh that’s not very nice.”

You giggle, lack of sleep really catching up to you. “Maybe I’m not very nice.”

“Oh I think you are, but you’re sleepy and you’re just being fiesty.”

“Mmm,” you hum into your pillow. He could read you like a book. It was strange, having just met but feeling like you’d known him your whole life. He felt comfortable, easy to talk to. “I’ll go to sleep.”

Shawn hums and you open your eyes a bit to see him one more time. That lovely face and those soft eyes...he was just your type, how perfect. “Close your eyes, stop staring at me,” he chuckles and you hide your face in your pillows once more. “Yeah, I can see you, that’s how cameras work y’know.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, a blush spreading across your cheeks. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Alright, alright. Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers and you nod slightly, sleep taking over completely as you listen to his soft breathing and the shift of his blankets when he moves. It’s nice. Comfortable. Feels right.

________________________

“Get up! You’re going to be late!” Tara yells and you startle, jerking awake in your bed. Your phone falls on the floor and you sit up to look at the time on your wall clock. Half past seven. Saturdays you were supposed to be at the bakery at eight in the morning.

“Oh crap,” you groan, throwing your legs over the side of the bed and standing up. You hurry and pick a skirt and a blousy shirt from your pile of unfolded clean clothes. The shirt is wrinkled but it’s not that bad. You grab a clip for your hair and run your fingers through it. You skip your tights because that would take way too long to get on, so you opt for some bicycle shorts just in case your skirt came up at all. By the time you reach the door Tara is holding out your boots and you tug them on with the socks you wore to bed still on your feet.

You get the door open and then you freeze on the porch. “My bike...fuck,” you drop your head and groan. “It’s still at the Kings Estate. Shawn was going to bring it to me today because it rained yesterday.”

“Well there is no use in crying about it now. Start walking!” Tara point to the road and you march toward it.

It’s nearly a quarter after eight when you round the corner and head down the street to the bakery. Parked outside is your bike on the rack and a black Jeep in the parking space just outside the front doors. Shawn was already there. You pick up the pace and jog the last few yards to the doors.

Once inside you don’t find Shawn waiting for you. He wasn’t in his car when you passed by either. Huh. You look around as you take your purse off and put it under the counter. Laughter from the back gets your attention and you push open the swinging door slowly.

“Oh you should have seen her, she was a mess! The whole bag of flour just dumped all over her. She looked like a ghost!” Ernie laughs and standing beside him also laughing was Shawn.

Shawn. Covered in flour, sleeves rolled up, laughing like this was an everyday thing. He turns to look at you when the door swings closes behind you, making a slight squeaking noise along it’s hinges. “Oh look who’s here,” he smiles, putting his hands on his hips.

“Yes, I’m here because I work here. What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you but you weren’t here yet.” He walks over and takes in your disheveled appearance, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “From the looks of it, you woke up late.”

“It’s your fault for keeping me up so late.” You cross your arms and lean to the side to look past him at Ernie. “You let this pretty boy back in your bakery?”

Ernie grins. “He was here at eight and you weren’t here yet so I thought I’d show him a thing or two. He’s a quick learner, and he came with gifts.”

“Gifts?” you ask, returning your attention to the man in front of you. “What kind of gifts?”

“Gifts for making cookies. I brought ricotta and blueberries so we could make those cookies of yours.” Shawn grabs a towel and wipes his floury hands off before taking yours and leading you out into the front area. “Ernie is just about to put them in the oven, in the meantime I thought we could talk.”

The door over the shop jingles and in walks a couple customers. Three regulars who came by for morning pastries and their daily bread. “I’d love to talk but I have to work too y’know,” you whisper to Shawn, pulling away and going by the register to greet the customers.

Shawn slides up behind you and puts his hand on your lower back. It sends a shiver up and down your spine but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Show me how to do this,” he whispers and you glance up at him. “I’ll watch you with the first one okay?”

“Hi, what can I get for you?” you ask Mr. Peters as he approaches the counter. He says he needs a loaf of rye bread and two hard rolls. You move to the cooling racks that Ernie must have just rolled out and you gather the items requested, bagging them in clear cello wrap sleeves before returning to the counter. Shawn remains hot on your heels, watching your every move.

“That will be six dollars,” you announce, typing the loaf and roll costs into the register. Mr. Peters hands you a couple bills and you make change. He smiles up at Shawn and gives you a little wink and a smile as he heads out.

“So that’s it? Bag and box up the goods?” Shawn asks, eyeing the little note with prices taped to the cash register. “Then ring it up based on what it is?”

“Mmm hmm.” You look up and him and he smiles down at you. “Wanna try the next one?”

“I’d love to.”

A couple seconds pass and Ms. Jones walks up with a bag of rolls from the discount day old basket beside the display case. She asks for a dozen danishes with no fruit filling. Shawn smiles and grabs a box from under the register, unfolds it, and then gets a piece of the wax paper and starts picking out danishes from the display case.

You’re impressed. He seems to know what he’s doing and he even tiers the danishes in the box so they aren’t stacked on top of each other. Once he gets to the register he punches in the danish total and then gets stumped by the discount rolls. There isn’t a discount total and you raise your eyebrows, waiting to see what he does next.

“Half off,” you whisper and he smiles, nodding and typing in half the cost of a dozen rolls.

“Ten dollars,” he says to Ms. Jones and she smiles at him, then at you.

“I didn’t know Ernie was hiring anyone,” Ms. Jones giggles as she digs in her purse for payment. She leans in close after handing Shawn some cash and holds her hand up as if to whisper just to you. “He’s a cute one! Better keep him around!”

You laugh and Shawn rolls his eyes, thanking her for coming in and handing over her goods. Shawn crosses his arms and leans against the counter, looking down at you and then grabbing your hand, thumb smoothing over your birthmark. “That wasn’t so bad now was it?”

“Sure wasn’t. Maybe we should keep you around.”

“Maybe you should,” he hums and you duck your head as he chuckles.

________________________

The bakery was closed on Sundays so you end up going out to lunch with Shawn and talking for a long while. You learn that he went to a private boarding school outside of town and spent most of his summers with his grandparents in Portugal. It was amazing the two of you had grown up so close but had never come across each other until now. Lunch soon turned into dinner and dinner turned into late night sushi a few towns over. The two of you spent all of Sunday together and you couldn’t have been happier.

“Can I come in?” Shawn asks as he stands with you on the front porch of your house. It’s almost two in the morning and you had been out way later than you ever intended to be.

“I dunno,” you giggle, rocking on your feet with your heels in your hand. “Depends on what your intentions are.”

“Oh I dunno if I could tell you that. Maybe I could show you,” he smirks. His hands come up and he cups your jaw tenderly, leaning your face up as he places a soft kiss on your lips. “How’s that?” he whispers and you nod. He goes in again, this time with a bit more urgency to taste you.

Your hands go to his chest as you feel your body heating up, toes curling against the cold cement below you. “Easy, easy,” you giggle and he keeps pecking your lips, smiling each time. “If that’s your intentions then I might be inclined to let you inside.”

“Oh? I promise I’ll kiss as much as you like,” he smiles, presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll kiss you anywhere you like too.”

You bite your lip and reach for your keys in your purse. “Come on, but be quiet, my sister would never let me live it down if she knew I let a guy in on the first date.”

“Ohh, bad girl,” Shawn teases and runs his hands along your sides. “Gonna have to stay real quiet huh?” He kisses the back of your neck as you fumble with your keys in the lock. “I make no promises.”

“Fuck,” you breath out and he pulls you back against him. You can feel how hard he is getting and you can’t help but get aroused as well. You step into the house, turning and grabbing the front of his shirt. “Get in here already.”

________________________

For the next three weeks Shawn splits his time between being with his parents and being with you at the bakery. After the first week Shawn just seemed to fit right in with you and Ernie. He started running the front end while you worked with Ernie in the back on new recipes and just giving him a hand in general. Ernie offered to pay Shawn for his time but he refuses, flat out told him no he wasn’t going to take a dime, that being allowed to be there with you was more than enough payment.

One day you are setting up tables just after you flipped over the open sign and unlocked the door and you notice Shawn hasn’t showed up yet. He was usually always there before you if the two of you weren’t coming in together. If he wasn’t coming he would text you and let you know he was staying with his dad or he had a conference call or something. It worries you, makes you think something has happened with his dad. He was getting better though, fighting through the pneumonia like a champ. The doctors said he would be on his feet in a few weeks.

You check your phone about a dozen times in a ten minute period. You had already sent a couple texts, asking Shawn where he was and if everything was alright. The lack of response made you even more worried.

The door on the shop jingles and startles you as you’re lost in thought, causing you to knock over the sugar shaker on the table you were straightening up. You hadn’t realized just how on edge you were about Shawn not replying. Your back is to the door as you pick up the sugar shaker set it up right before you go to turn around. When you do, Shawn is next you, his warm hand on your side is unexpected and you bump into the table.

“Easy there, wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” he chuckles as he sets a carrier with three coffees in it on the table behind you. He looks down at the sugar pile on the table and then to you. “Looks like you made a bit of a mess there.”

“You scared me. It’s all your fault,” you smile playfully, relief washing over you that he showed up.

“Oh it’s all my fault huh?” he purrs, reaching around you and rubbing his finger in the sugary mess. He brings his finger up to your lips and presses it against them. “You should really clean it up.”

You slip your tongue out and lick his finger clean, making him grin at you and pull you closer against him. He pulls his finger away and touches the sugar again, more of it sticking to his now slightly damp finger. He brings it back up and pushes it past your lips and you take it into your mouth, sucking the sugar off as you eyes fall closed.

“Mmm, so sweet. Such a good girl,” Shawn whispers and you nod, mouth bobbing a bit around his finger. “Just what I wanted in a soulmate,” he dips his head down and his breath ghosts across your ear. “A good girl who listens, does what she’s told.” He chuckles and you feel heat pool in your stomach as he places a kiss just under your ear.

“Break it up!” Ernie yells from behind the counter and you pull away from Shawn, a blush staining your cheeks, heart racing. “You’re like a bunch of teenagers!”

“Oh come on Ernie, from what you’ve told me you couldn’t keep your hands on your soulmate either when you were our age,” Shawn quips, picking up the coffee carrier and walking to the counter.

Ernie just laughs and shakes his head. “What are you so late for hmm? You had our girl over here worried sick. I’ve never seen her so pale.”

You walk over and stand beside Shawn. He puts his arm around you back and smiles down at you before looking back to Ernie. “Well, I had to get our coffees, and I had to make a few phone calls. I’d actually like to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?’ Ernie asks, grabbing the cup of coffee with his name on it and taking a sip. “What about kid?”

“I want to buy this place from you.”

“What?!” you blurt out, eyes wide as you look up at Shawn. “This is going to be my place, you can’t just come in here and-”

Shawn puts his finger to your lips and shushes you tenderly. “Easy easy now baby. It would be our place, me and you.”

“Can we talk about this in private,” you mumble around his finger on your lips. Shawn nods to Ernie, silently excusing the two of you and leads you outside.

“What’s the problem?”

“The problem? Shawn, we’ve only been together for what, almost a month? You want to just come and buy my bakery? Yes, my bakery, it is mine at the end of next month. I know you’ve got loads of money and crap but you can’t just leave your whole life behind because you found your soulmate!”

“Babe, that is exactly what I want to do. I fucking hate my job, you know I hate running MD Tech. It’s not me, I’m not a suit and tie guy. I have enough money to retire a dozen times over and I’m only twenty five. Meeting you gave me a new lease on life, an out from the corporate jungle. I just want a normal, comfortable life. I want to settle down with my soulmate, maybe have a few kids in the future, just...live.”

You look into the shop and watch as Ernie straightens up the display case. The guy always said you’d find your happily ever after one day. Shawn was definitely prince charming. If you and Shawn both took over the bakery that would allow you to bake all day while he ran the front. Shawn would be able to cover expenses and labor, hell, you could hire some extra help and maybe even expand into the empty shop space next door. Ernie always wanted to expand but it was never in the budget. Maybe...maybe with Shawn you could make not only your dreams come true but Ernie’s too.

“Talk to me, what’s going on in that head of yours?” Shawn asks, tilting you chin up to look at him.

“Alright,” you smile and he grins. “Deal. You can buy the bakery, but I want to pay him double. I want Ernie to be able to retire happily and travel like he’s always dreamed.”

Shawn wraps his arms around you and picks you up. “You got yourself a deal.” He kisses your neck and you giggle as you wrap your legs around him. He walks you into the shop and Ernie laughs. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to buy the place as soon as possible Ernie!”

“Sold!” Ernie laughs. “How soon can I start my vacation?”

Shawn smiles and sets you down, taking your hand and squeezing it. “Whenever you want. We got this place covered, right?”

“We sure do, but I have one exception.” Ernie raises his eyebrows. “You have to go on a long vacation and see your kids and don’t come back until we say so.”

“You want to keep me out of my bakery?”

“Our bakery,” Shawn smirks.

Ernie lifts his apron over his head and sets it on the counter. “You kids have a deal. The place is all yours. But when I do come back, can I still bake from time to time?”

“Of course,” you laugh and put your arm around Shawn. “We’d love to have you back as soon as you finish seeing the world. No skimping, Ern. Tomorrow we will get everything ready to sign over and you’ll be ready to start the rest of your life. We both get our happily ever after.”

________________________

One Year Later

“Lindsay! Do we have any more of the vanilla hazelnut whipped cream?” you yell from the door to the back of the bakery.

“Sure do, buttercup!” She throws you a small tub from a fridge under the counter of her homemade whipped cream blend. You catch it and duck back into the bakery to make a small batch of frosting out of it.

Shawn comes up behind you as you sit on a little stool and spread the whipped cream on a cooled cupcake. He snakes his arms around you and rubs over your stomach. “How’s the little bean today?” he purrs, rubbing up and down your little baby bump.

“The bean is hungry,” you laugh, leaning back to kiss him. “I’m going to take these out for samples and we can go get lunch.”

“What’s this magic concoction?”

You stand up, lifting the tray of cupcakes and holding them under Shawn’s nose. “Mocha espresso cupcakes with vanilla hazelnut whipped cream frosting.”

“Mmm, I knew I married you for a reason.”

“Oh? And why is that?” you tease as you lead him out of the bakery and to the front of the store. “Because I can bake? Because I’m your soulmate? Choose carefully, I’m a crazy pregnant woman now y’know.”

Shawn laughs. “All of the above?”

You set the tray of cupcakes down and tell your cashier, Jenna, that they are for samples today and to cut them up for anyone who wants to try them. “Good answer,” you say as you turn around and follow Shawn out from behind the counter.

“What are you thinking for lunch?”

“I’ve been craving a meatball sub. How about we go to Alfredo’s?”

Shawn hums and puts his arm around your back. “Anything you want.”

“Anything?” you giggle, walking your fingers up his chest and he grins.

“Behave,” he smiles and glances down at your tummy as he puts his hand on it. “You make your mom crazy, just absolutely crazy for me.”

You grab his face and pull him into a kiss. “I was crazy for you before and I’ll still be crazy for you after the baby.”

“Hmm, good.” Shawn kisses you a few more times, little pecks before he settles with his head against yours. “Come on, let’s go get you that meatball sub.”

“Yeah, I’m starved,” you giggle and go to the door to open it but you stop, hand hesitating as you turn around to look at the store and smile.

It took a couple months but you had done it. You had made the bakery everything Ernie ever dreamed it could be and more. Shawn bought the empty shop next door and the expansion began the day after the papers were signed. The whole back room was expanded into a full bakery with several more ovens and work spaces, proper storage and cooling racks were added along side stand mixers and a whole array of top of the line baking appliances.

Lindsay and her crew closed up shop a few blocks down and came to open the coffee shop with you. Her lease on the space was up and the rental fee was getting to be outrageous. With an expansion of the bakery counter and new water lines run to the front of the shop, you were in business together in a matter of weeks.

The sitting area went from a small six table space in the bakery to a fourteen table area from one end to the other, including an addition of window bar seating and several refrigerated cases on the bakery side for cakes and chilled goods.

Ernie’s Bakery and The Beanery became The Baked Bean and one year later you were open for business. To look back you never thought you would see the day that you had your happily ever after, but here you were. Bakery owner. Wife. Soon to be mother. Soulmate. Yeah...you got your happily ever after and it couldn’t be more perfect.

#shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes oneshot #my fic #happily every after #hea

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captain-ed-tucker · 5 years ago

Text

The True Maniac

You are the chosen one, they say. You are meant to be the savior of the world, they say. All those words, they are my company every day, day after day, they follow me, stalk me, haunt me everyday of my life, it's almost insane. Wait...it IS insane. Funny you should say that really cause ya know, I knew this gal the other day who had a hot ass and gosh she was cute and I could go on and on...oh...oops...I went on one of my rants again. I'm sorry. I'm rude. I should start again. My name is Johnny Lawrence and you are probably one of the voices and people that come through my head each and every day, you all keep me company, it's kinda sweet, but in a creepy way. But I'm the step son of Sid Weinburg, he's the CEO of Texaco and Time Warner, yes, that guy on TV that asks you for more subscriptions, that creepy greasy guy is my step dad, funny you should ask why the bloody hell am I related to that guy in the first place. Ah, it's a long story really, I hope you have patience cause I'm probably gonna ramble and ramble and go off on maniac induced episodes where my thoughts might not connect with my words and my stories may seem more fantastical than usual, it's all up to you to whether to believe me or not, I don't care if you don't, nobody has believed me in a long while.

You still here? Wow. I'm suprised, most voices and people tend to go away after awhile, you are creepy as hell, after my imaginary dead brother York, who by the way never existed, nor was ever born. I hope for the sake of my story, no York was ever born in San Francisco, it's highly unlikely, but hey, you never know.

Oh and by the way, I lost my girlfriend becuase of a BLIP, lost my title for the All Valley Championship cause I was concussed and dizzy and hallucinating, only to be fucking crane kicked in the face. But hey, at least I have a job as a Rad Tech and am living on my own, so ha! You can't call me a basement dweller since I live in a apartment all by myself overlooking the ocean and ninety percent of the time, I see tourists hanging out there taking selfies and making out like it is some sort of lover's nest. Ugh, I guess I get what I pay for...literally...I got this place on the cheap side with the help of AdBuddy since I could barely afford it on my own and rent is fucking up my savings, like C'mon, stop fucking me up here damn it! And not to mention the fact that my REAL step brother's trial Ryan Weinberg, who has been accused of sexual harassment at the workplace and I was named as a witness, my step dad wants me to lie on the stand...can I do that? I mean... that just feels so wrong, very wrong. Tell me I'm not the only one that I'm feeling this way, cause I have no idea what to do next.

Oh...great Jed is here, wait just a minute while I talk to him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh Johnny, just here to deliver your latest mission, the details will be soon revealed as you go."

"Don't you think this is not the right time?"

"Oh but it is."

"Oh and by the way, you will have a handler, she has a certain Jai sais ne qoui about her. You will know her when you see her...DON'T FUCK THIS UP!"

Okay...now Jed has left and I'm still stuck with you. You have this intense, scruffy look about you...I can tell you really are a curious person, you aren't like the others before...that's interesting. Most have tried to change me, give me orders or tell me that I'm chosen or some bullshit...some of those days I'm convinced of that bullshit and actually believing it, the scariest part is not hearing a lie, it's believing the lie and perpetuating the lie. I get up and head to my apartment and flick all my pills that are there to "fix" me...you can't fix what is broken and I am broken.

I also find the package for Neberdine Pharmaceuticals and Biotechnology. Odd...they never send me anything, I haven't even heard of them at all. It is scary and creepy though, I wonder if the FBI is watching me, I might close the curtains and I should...you think I could be watched...right? I...I feel like everything has eyes and cameras and ears and mics and all the tech in the world to enhance interrogate me before I have a chance to defend myself...wait...the phone is ringing...I have to pick it up, just wait here ok?

"He...hello? Who is this?"

"This is Neberdine Pharmaceuticals and Biotechnology research institute inc. Speaking, we are here to speak to you becuase you have been chosen as a "Hero" Candidate"

"Well...what DOES a hero candidate do?"

"Well we have them do experiments that others normally do not do and we treat all sorts of problems, including prostate problems"

"Popcorn problems?"

"Yes popcorn problems."

"Thank you...I'll consider it."

I hang up the phone in utter confusion and now you are looking at me like I'm an idiot! STOP STARING AT ME JOHN KREESE! STOP!

END OF PART ONE

I get up and, oh...fuck, you are there again, well done you asshole, you are still with me. Oh well, I don't have time to yell and holler at you, I have to get ready and go to work and then head over to my parents house, my brother is celebrating his engagement to Adelade and they are going to announce a wedding date and it all is amongst this scandal of his sexual harassment of a clerk. I have no ideas what I feel or where I stand anymore.

Work is a boring affair as you can tell, you're already doing your kiyakis and forward thrust punches and I'm busy as hell scanning patients and I have lots of paperwork, not to mention the decontamination process I have to go through every day just for health purposes so I'm not literally emitting X Rays by the time I leave the hospital.

Getting rides on the tube to my parent's mansion is very expensive for now since my budget has been tightened becuase I went on a mania induced spending spree and I racked up so many charges and fees from gambling with the furries and casinos are never happy to see me, I never understood why that was the case.

Regardless, I have to call on an AdBuddy and he soon comes over and inserts funds into my account, but in exchange, I have to view a bunch of ads that are read aloud by the AdBuddy and one of them is about Neberdine Pharmaceuticals and Biotechnology. Neberdine is everywhere...the pattern is the pattern, there is a larger force at work here and I'm sure of it. I know it, I can feel it at work, it's a bit mysterious to others, but not me, I'm the only one who understands how this works at all.

I can see you have cleaned up real nicely for the occasion and I thank you for that, I have to admit Sensei, you really look handsome in a suit, it really suits you...get it? Hahaha! Oh...I see you don't get the joke? Oh...ok, oh well then. I then go in and hand my coat to the butler and head up the stairs through the foyer and then meet my parents, my step mom and my step dad, both are looking regal tonight since their oldest firstborn is celebrating his engagement again since my "Incident". I hate to admit it but the nieces and nephews are the only reason I even bother show up to family functions at all, I hate this fake, plastic family filled with Barbies and Ken's, I want something more than this Kreese...but what is it I want?

Soon my brother Ryan is busy singing and wooing Adelade and she's smiling and tearing up and all that sappy shit, I wonder if she's marrying him for the money, I would hate for that to happen to Ryan, I had my own experience with Ali Mills and it didn't end well at all.

Soon the adults want to play balderdash but honestly, I feel suffocated and I wanted out of here as soon as possible, the fakeness was getting to me and I can hear them begging me

"Aw cmon! You used to love balderdash"

"Balderdash is fun!"

"Really? What's wrong, play with us!"

"Please play with us! Just one round! I promise!"

At that, I just can't stand it anymore, there is a roaring fury in me that explodes and I yell at the top of my lungs

"BALDERDASH IS STUPID! IT'S BULLSHIT!"

One of my nieces burst out in tears and I can only look on in guilt as as my other brother Andrew glares at me angrily, great...another brother that hates me...fun. I storm out and I see you following me, why do you follow me? Leave me alone, just let me get a smoke, at that moment I can see one of the dog shit cleaners whirr by, it's a small machine the height of my ankle and it sucks in the shit and sprays the sidewalk clean and I walk past and go home...I have to do this, this is everything I will do, to sign up for the trial and to cast you out for good, you had a great run but you need to fuck off.

I arrive at a grey concrete bulding with narrow Rainbow stripes running up the side and I can see the sign of the bulding is in Japanese and I enter and a Japanese woman coldly greets me and hands me a clipboard filled with paperwork, judging on the amount I have, I'm gonna be here a long time just filling out papers. Fuck my life. Another guy next to me adds "Ooo five bombs eh? See that? That's where the money comes from." Sure enough, there are five bomb logos printed on it and I add

"Is it safe?"

"Hell no! The more dangerous, the more money! That is usually how it goes."

I look down at the form and then sign it and turn it in and the intercom says

"Johnny Lawrence to intake exam room four"

The Asian woman bows before me and I bow back and I sit down in the chair, I'm apparently going to be strapped to a lie detector machine. The blood pressure cuff is slipped on my arm and a pulse ox device is placed on my finger and a galvanic skin response device is placed across my chest, she then asks me to tell her how I feel when I see a series of photos. I can hear the clicking of the machine as the metal needles move up and down the paper, leaving trails of red, recording my reactions and my responses and she starts with the first photo which is a bottle of pills and I reply

"Poisoned"

The next picture is of a family, sitting around a table and enjoying a meal and I reply

"Suffocated"

I then see a ink blot and I reply

"Confused."

The test goes on and soon she says "I want you to turn your attention towards me as I ask you this final question." And I look up into her expressionless eyes and I hear a ding and the green light next to me lights up and she said "Congratulations, you have passed the test, you are now in the ULP Phase III trial." She bowed at me and I bowed one last time and I left the exam room, perplexed at what was the final question. I sit down, holding my badge that is labeled with the number 1 on it and as I look up, I see a man I never thought I would ever see again in the flesh, Daniel LaRusso and he is yelling at a test protocor screaming "This is bullshit and you know it! PATRICIA LUGO!" And he storms off after the woman that handed me the clipboard, I don't know what does he want with her but FUCKK!!! HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE! DAMMIT!

End of part Two

I get up for the day and I stretch the kinks and massage my knee, fuck, that knee has been giving me so much chronic pain for so long, I have resorted to opiates to at least bring the edge down, it doesn't help much with my life, I don't have a job becuase I'm labeled a "Drug addict."

I'm a drug addict for trying to relive chronic, never ending pain from the shattered knee, it's the same knee that suffered a devastating injury at the tournament and yet I managed to defeat Lawrence, Chozen worsened the injury and when I worked in construction, an accident shattered the knee and now I have to put it in a brace so it doesn't cave in on the weight that I put on my knee.

I slip on the brace and grab a stack of magazines and some cash and walk to the nearby store and ask for some cigarettes, the clerk asks me how I am going to pay and I snap

"I'm gonna pay with an AdBuddy."

"No AdBuddy payments accepted here."

I groan and pull out what little change I have and I slam it on the countertop and then he hands me my cigars and I light them, soon I feel a bliss sink over me as I limp back to the shared apartment I have with the others and I run to my room...I NEED THAT PILL! I want to suffer in a way that my knee can never give me suffering, this is the suffering that makes me scream and want to tear out my soul and I have begged for death so many times, but really, I am alone.

San Francisco is a boring as hell city, I moved here when my mom died seven years ago, I gave up hoping for healing, my opioids and my cigarettes were all I ever needed now a days. I swipe the drawer open and open the bottle. The pill is shaped in the letter "A" and I sigh, this is my last pill. I say

"This is it, you are my last pill, then it's fuck you forever."

I then sit on the couch in the cramped and messy living room and I grab the remote control and mash the pill up and snort it all up and gosh...I'm in it.

I wake up hours later, I'm in tears yes, but I am alive, this pain reminds me that I am alive, that I am breathing and that I am fighting, that I'm still awake and that I'm still ok. But I have to pay someone a visit, someone I haven't visited in forever, someone that I haven't spoken to in forever.

I then go to my wallet and yell at my roommate

"Who stole my money?"

"Well you haven't paid your share of the rent in two months!"

"MAYBE IT'S BECUASE I HAVE CHRONIC PAIN AND I CAN'T WORK! I'M ON DISABILITY!"

Oh wow...way to go you son of a bitch, you had to screw that up. Well then, let's try another tactic, the puppy brown eyes and some pleasing.

"Well can I at least have twenty bucks?"

"Well then, fine take some. Calm down junkie!"

Oh Fuck you bitch, like you had your knee kicked in and your knee crushed by some careless truck driver who was high on No-Doze to realize you were nearly under the fucking truck.

I snatch the bill from her hand and I go to my cousin Louie's home, as usual, he is in his A-Void pod, that antisocial idiot hates everybody, well I need his money and I need it now, I'm a man on a mission and nothing is going to stop me. One problem, he changed the combination to the safe and I grunt and I head out to the backyard and i find the pod and press the button and say

"Hey Cousin? How are you?"

A mechanical click and then he replies

"Fine."

I snort

"Your yard looks like a fucking mess."

And it literally is a fucking mess.

"Oh um...what's the combination to the safe."

Another click and a whirr and he replies

"I changed the combination to the safe."

"Thanks for the information Captain Obvious. So what is it?"

"Your birthday."

Really? Fuck you.

"I brought you something to eat."

"Applejacks?"

"Yea."

I slam the cereal on the table top in the dining room which looks like it has seen better days, I step over rubbish and junk from the good old days and I then enter the combination and then I grab the money and then leave, funny how my cousin used to be married until his wife was shot to death while coming back to work, I guess in a way, he can't move on from his loss like I can't move on from mine.

I stand at the bus station, ready to buy the bus ticket to Newark, but as soon as I want to enter the bus station, I want the A pill, I want it so badly, I can't resist the urge and I mutter a "Fuck you" and run off. I'm so ashamed and angry, I am weak and pathetic, that's all I'll ever be.

I approach my friend Kamreon who is playing chess with a foul mouthed furrie and the man is winning and Kameron is my source of these pills, I know that he can get me to them, I know so. I approach him and I ask

"I need more A pills."

"I can't, these pills are really hard to procure! These are from my dad's work!"

"Then how do I get into Neberdine?"

"Sign up for a study, help my dad make millions, for all I know, you could be testing deodorant for a week."

Fuck no, I am NOT going that route, to just end up testing deodorant, no way!

"Gimme a name Kameron! Any name!"

I slide over a one hundred dollar bill and he sighs and gives in before replying

"Patricia Lugo, and can I say something as your friend?"

"Yeah?"

"You sound like a junkie."

I roll my eyes and reply

"I am NOT a junkie!"

And I run off to a store that can dox that woman and give me something to work with.

End of part three

I soon arrive at the doxxing shop and a bored Asian man looks up at me and asks

"What can I do?"

I look to the side before scribbling onto a notepad and hold it up to the Plexar glass barrier and the unamused looking man adds

"Can't read your shit writing."

I roll my eyes before adding

"Lugo. Patricia Lugo of Neberdine Pharmaceuticals and Biotechnology."

A few clicks of the keyboard later and a click of a mouse and he continues

"Patricia Lugo was arrested for disorderly conduct and public intoxication, had her arrest records wiped by ZipDox in order to get the job at Neberdine. But, ZipDox's records can be easily unscrubbed and that's why I call ZipDox, ShitDox. If you want more, you gotta pay us more than she paid ShitDox to get her records scrubbed. I'll say...500 dollars, and you get a free calendar as a frequent customer."

I sigh and slip the Bill's under the glass partition and he hands the calendar over and then adds further

"Patricia Lugo lost custody of her daughter Usnavy after the arrest and her daughter goes to Hunter College. I could have her daughter kidnapped, I know a few guys with a white van."

I shake my head, I don't want anybody hurt, that's the last thing I want, for anybody to get hurt in my search, my quest for the A pill. Nobody should get caught up in my quest for me to drown myself in self-misery and self-pity. He then adds

"It also says she has a FriendProxy appointment at the Bonsai Gardens."

"I'll be there."

"Ooo interception. Sneaky I see."

He smiles snidely and I pay up and leave and then I cancel her FriendProxy appointment and get a lapel pin with a FriendProxy logo on it and then I stride over to the gardens, they remind me again of someone I lost, someone I cared about, someone who meant so much to me in a fatherly way, the bonsai trees remind of him so much, it is really painful, and suddenly, she comes over and embraces me, breaking me from my thoughts and she says without a second thought.

"Remember when we met here? At this same place?"

"Oh yeah...oh yeah, all the beautiful Bonsai trees. They remind me of so much."

"I wonder what are you talking about? I was talking about the moment we met? Remember when we also went to Chinatown and we went over the Golden Gate Bridge?"

"Oh yeah, and I remember when we went to see my uncle Liam."

"Now who the fuck is Uncle Liam?"

That question brings my thoughts to a screeching halt as she continues:

"Honey? Are you ok? What are your ratings? You do not seem compatible at all."

I'm fucking pissed off, I'm not compatible with anyone and to hell with that bullshit talking lady! All she seems to do is yammer off on a tangent that I sure as hell do not talk about. Before I can stop myself, I cut her off and say:

"Listen up, I'm here to fuck your life up, I canceled your FriendProxy appointment and I'm here to ruin you forever."

She is taken aback and shocked, she seemed a bit stunned by what I was saying and I'm not sure how to react to that as she slowly digests the information and she adds

"What are you talking about."

And what am I talking about? I haven't a fucking clue at all. Perhaps it's the drugs or the energy that's fizzling out but I feel so ashamed and embarrassed, I have no idea how the hell am I supposed to get her to funnel me at all, I quickly walk away to a hall overlooking a pond where koi fish swim around and I see her again and she says

"You know, you remind me of my daughter. She's just like you. Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are so you desperate to join Neberdine?"

#billy zabka #dutch karate kid #karatekid #karate #the karate kid #johnny x daniel #daniel larusso

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