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#if I wasn't home who would have founder her on the kitchen floor
dannyriccsupremacy · 2 months
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now that we don't talk | CL16
| charles leclerc x fem!exgf!reader smau
| summary : charles doesn't do enough to keep his girlfriend and when the internet finds out, they are less than happy.
| faceclaim : christina nadin
| part one here !
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liked by yourbff, landonorris + 88,634 others
youruser i was so shocked i dropped my @sacreskin out of the bathtub
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yourbff i wonder why you were so shocked 🤔
↳ youruser im not sure whatsoever i dont know why
↳ francisca.cgomes sweetie what are you hiding from us?
user shes had such a glow up since the break up
user post charles glow!
user you're so pretty!
user sacre literally saved my skin!! thank you 💋
↳ youruser omg im so happy for you!
bellahadid i love sacre!
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liked by youruser, charles_leclerc + 20,265 others
sacreskin new products dropping soon! as modelled by our lovely founder @youruser
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user charles, bby, why are you in the likes?
user what is charles doing here?
user shoo charles shoo
youruser i'm so excited for this drop! you're all going to love it!
↳ user girly why is charles here
yourbff this is the cream she dropped on the floor outside the bathtub
↳ user yn being exposed by bff once again
user i will go broke spending all my money on them.
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yn was getting ready to go to dinner with her bff, when she heard a sudden knok at the door. glancing at the time, she assumed it was her bff, who was just extremely early- probably to get ready together. they pounded on the door again, becoming impatient.
"yeah, coming. calm your farm!" yn called, making her way to the door.
she wasn't looking at the door as she opened it, trying to dig through her makeup bag to find her beauty blender. as they walked through the door, yn actually glanced up at them, "charlie? what are you doing here?"
he continued walking through the hallway, taking in yn's new home, "you just let me in."
she followed behind him, ditching her makeup bag, "i wouldn't have if i knew it was you!"
"oh come on, yn, we both know you would have." charles stopped in her kitchen and turned around to face her.
"i wouldn't of." yn stood her ground.
they stared at each other for a moment, before yn began moving, stopping behind charles and putting both of her hands straight into her back. charles stumbled forward, and turned around, staring at yn with an unbelieving look on his face.
"what was that for?" he exclaimed.
"get out!" yn replied, pointing towards her door.
"i'm not leaving until we talk." charles stood his ground, this time ready for her shove, not moving.
"fine. you have like five minutes. i have plans." yn gave in, pulling out one of her kitchen stools to sit on.
charles followed suit, pulling out the stool next to hers and turning to face her, "i'm sorry."
yn laughed, almost spitting in charles' face.
"i am. i miss the old ways. i miss you. what can we do to fix us?" charles asked, sincerity in his eyes.
"nothing, charlie. there is no 'us' anymore." yn softly replied.
"surely there is something we can do?" charles pleaded, debating whether he should literally get on his hands and knees and beg.
"no charles. we're done-" charles began to speak, cutting her off, by she silenced him with a look, "look, i called my mum and the first thing she said was that 'it was for the best'. i have to remind myself that, the more i gave, you'd want me less. i can't be your friend. it's just better, now that we don't talk."
"you don't mean that." charles muttered, lowering his eyes to his fidgeting hands.
"i do. i don't have to pretend that i want to be on a mega yacht, with important men, who think important thoughts. i'm on my way back to my dignity." yn argued, her voice pulling charles' eyes up to hers.
"yn, i will do anything to fix it. i'm so sorry. it's all my fault. yn, please." charles begged.
"you know i had to tell your friends, the ones we shared dinners and long weekends with?" yn asked, "i had to pretend it was platonic, but we'd just ended."
"yn, i'm willing to do anything to get you back again. just give me one more chance." charles pleaded.
"no. charlie. it's best now that we don't talk." yn raised from her seat and grabbed his hand, which he immediately latched onto. she easily led him away from her kitchen and to her door, leaving him standing in her hallway, but not before planting a kiss on his cheek.
youruser just posted a story!
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"he said what?!" your best friend exclaimed, her eyes bascially buldging out of her head.
"what. an. asshole." julia, a girl in the club bathroom added in.
yn and her bff had sat in the club bathroom for the past hour, relaying the story of her afternoon to her bff and the other three women who had sat there to help the pair shit talk charles.
"i think i would've punched him in the face, honestly." chloe scoffed.
"how did he even get your new address?" amelia asked, "is he stalking you?"
yn pondered for a moment, "i think pierre probably gave it to him. but enough about me and my shitty ex. why are you three crying in the club bathroom?"
"the guy i'm talking to right now, he is so not over his ex and he is just like, leading me along." amelia answered, slightly shrugging.
"what is with men and being assholes?" yn shook her head, "you deserve so much better. dump him!"
"he's so hot though!" amelia rebutted.
"hot guys are usually the worst ones." chloe said, earning nods of agreement from the rest of the group.
"you're better than this." your bff assured amelia, placing a comforting hand on her arm. amelia gave a small smile, one that didn't meet her eyes, and nodded.
"come on. let's just get drunk and forget about all the asshole men in this world. in this stupid little tiny country." yn stated, jumping off the counter and clasping her hands.
"unless they buy us drinks." julia added.
"unless they buy us drinks." yn reaffirmed
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authors note thank you guys for so much love on my first post, it's actually mad! also thank you for everyone who requested a part 2. idk if this is very good and its not very long, but here we are! also if you want to be tagged please leave a comment!
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dragon-kazansky · 3 years
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Made with love | Helmut Zemo
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Chef Zemo AU! 👨‍🍳
Gender neutral reader!
Collage by @realremyd
[Next chapter]
Part 1
You had always wanted to travel through Europe. You wanted to see those streets at least once in your life. Meet the people, attention the languages, taste the food, and maybe even do a little shopping in certain cities.
Your friend, Wanda Maximoff, came from a rather unknown country called Sokovia. When you had told her about your trip, she had brought it up. She hadn't been back home since she left, but she remembered it well. She suggested some places to go if you ever stopped by. You made a mental note to drop by her home country for her sake.
Sokovia was a declining country. It had its fair share of issues and problems, but it was still out there waiting to be discovered. The least you could do was visit on your travels.
You had passed through Spain and France, spent a few extra days in Gemany, stopping by the Netherlands to see Amsterdam. You have lost count of the photos you had taken in Austria, and it was as your stay in Poland was coming to an end when you remembered about Sokovia. The other countries you had planned to pass through would have to wait. You spent your last night Poland planning the flyover to Sokovia, luckily finding a flight that will take you to the capital.
In your pocket you kept the list of places Wanda and suggested, her hoping most of them were still there. You would of course take pictures for her.
The plane landed and you exited the airport. You wanted to see the city. A cab station near by grabbed your attention, so you hurried over. You asked the driver of the nearest cab to drop you off in the city centre. He did.
Looking around Novi Grad, you were taken in. The city was old. People were going about their business, but some even turned to smile at you as you walked along. You took in the area, admiring the buildings and the people. You were impressed and in awe with the city.
You keep an eye out for somewhere to stay, checking Wanda's list as you go incase you spot one of the places on it.
You're not sure how long you have been strolling the streets when something catches your eye. It's not a very big building, but it stands out. A restaurant. A Spanish restaurant. You smile. Spain was one of your first stops when you got to Europe, the food was one of your favourite parts.
You realise just how hungry you are. You hadn't eaten anything since before your flight. The door is open and it looks like a good place to stop.
You look up at the sign as you get closer to it. Gold letters on a purple background. There was something elegant about it.
Escorpión Morado
You look at your list quickly. It's on there. Purple Scorpion. Wanda knew about this place. You put away the list, grab your camera, and stand far enough away to get a shot of the exterior. You smile at the outcome.
Outside there were a few tables. Four, to be exact. They had a nice view of the courtyard just in front of the restaurant. The entrance was two narrow double doors, opened wide to let air into the shop, and allowing easy access for the customers to come and go. The shop being on the corner of the street allowed a view on either side theiugh the large windows. On each window was the name of the restaurant in faint lettering. You could see inside, but decided you could admire it better by going in.
Entering the restaurant, you were welcomed with a certain warmth. It wasn't too busy, but there was still several people here, enjoying themselves. You took a picture of the inside.
The inside was nice and open, plenty of room to move around. A bar was situated at the far end, a couple of people sitting at it. You walked over the polished floor and made your way to the back. You pick a stool and sit down, looking up at the menu. There were plenty of options.
"What can I get for you?" A voice asks, coming over to you. You turn your head to see who was speaking, your voice suddenly doesn't want to work.
The man comes to stop in front of you. Brown hair swept to the side, dark brown eyes, sparkling with amusement, a smile tugging at his lips. His shirt sleeves were pushed back up to his elbows, and apron was around his waist. He had very clearly just been in the kitchen.
He tilts his head to the side slightly. You had yet to answer him.
"Are you alright?" He asks. "English?"
Oh, he thought you didn't understand.
"Um, yes. I speak English. I'm sorry, I'm fine," you feel embarrassed, shuffling on the stool slightly.
"That's alright. What can I get for you?" He asks, offering a friendly smile.
You glance up at the menu again. "What do you reccomend?"
As you glance back, you see his smile widen. You had eaten tapas while you were in Spain, but you found yourself wanting to hear him speak again. There was something about his accent that was satisfying.
"Since I haven't see you around here before, I'll make a special for you. How does that sound?"
"That sounds lovely, thank you."
He smiles and leaves you to go and make it himself. You look around the restaurant again while you wait.
On the wall just off to the side, there was a plaque. You get up and walk over to it, wanting to read what was on it. There was a photo above the plaque that caught your attention first. An older gentleman, dressed smartly and looking proud. You read the plaque to find out who he is.
Or was.
Heinrich Zemo
Founder of Escorpión Morado.
He died a few years ago, leaving the restaurant to his son, Helmut Zemo. There was no photo of his son, but you assumed he was here somewhere.
Actually, looking at the photo, you could awe some semblance with the man who had served you. Was he the owner?
You look at the plaque once more before going back sit down. The atmosphere in here was nice. You could see yourself coming here every day just to pass time. It certainly seemed like a favourite spot for these people.
You smiled as you glanced over the few people gathered here. A couple by the window, just looking out at people passing by. A man sitting at the bar talking to one of the staff members, they seemed to be enjoying themselves. There were a couple of families taking up tables here and there.
It was very relaxing here.
You turn back around when the man returns, he puts the dish down in front of you and smiles. It looks delicious, just like the one you had back in Spain.
He stands there as you take your first bite.
You stop and look at him as soon as the food touches your tongue. It's amazing. You smile as you eat it, nodding at him, impressed.
"This is the best tapas I've ever eaten."
He looks really pleased with himself.
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, especially since I was Spain not that long ago." You go for another bite.
"A traveller?"
"Yeah. I always wanted to see Europe, so I've been saving like crazy and here I am."
He leans against the counter, seemingly interested in this information. You're not complaining, he is definitely attractive company.
"And you found yourself here of all places."
"I have a friend who comes from Sokovia. She had mentioned it to me before I left for my trip, the least I could do was come and see," you told him, still enjoying your meal.
"Sokovia isn't exactly a popular destination, but I welcome you all the same. I also welcome you to my restaurant."
"Ah, so you are Helmut Zemo? I was reading the plaque over there," you said, nodding over at the wall.
"The one and only. Do I get the honour of your name?"
"So you ask all your customers for their names?" You ask, smiling at him.
"Only the really interesting ones."
"Interesting? I've been here all of five minutes. What makes you think I'm interesting?"
"When you work in a business like this, you get to know who is interesting or not. It comes with the territory. Also, moat of my customers are locals, so anyone from outside the country has to be interesting in some way," he crosses his arms and looks at you smugly.
"I see," you chuckle.
"Is that a no, then?"
"Y/N. My name is Y/N," you reply rather bashful.
"Y/N, lovely."
The way he says it with his accent makes a shiver run down your spine. You had a sudden need for him to say it again, but you also had to remember to be a normal human being who isn't going to freak out the lovely man they just met.
"Your meal is on the house."
You look up at him sharply.
"Oh no, please let me pay," you say urgently.
He shakes his head.
"No, this one is free. Only this one."
"You say that as if you know I'm going to come back," you look at him with a narrowed gaze.
"I trust that you will," he smirks.
"Why?"
"Well, you ate everything, complimented both my food and establishment, and I'm far too interesting, myself, for you only to come by once."
You laugh softly, shaking your head at him. His eyes lit up at the sound.
"Insufferable," you say, sliding off the stool.
"I'm aware, you get used to it."
You smile as you make sure you don't leave any of your belongings behind and thank him for the delicious food.
"Come again," he says.
"I'll think about it."
You leave, knowing he was smiling as you left the building. You make your way across the square, resisting looking back through the window to see if he was still there.
You pull out your phone and bring up a map. You needed to find somewhere to stay for a few nights. You didn't have to look far. There was a small hotel up ahead and around the corner. You decided to try there.
Finding it wasn't too hard. You only had to go down a small backstreet. It was out of the way and hidden, a nice peaceful place to stay for a while.
You enter. The lobby wasn't too big and it was nice and quiet. The building was old, but the inside seemed well looked after.
You walk over to the desk and smile at the man sitting there.
"Hello."
He smiles, "hello."
He spoke English too. That was good. Your Sokovian was... nonexistent.
"I would like a room for a few nights."
He nods and opens a big book information front of him. He grabs a pen and flicks through room numbers.
"How long are you staying?"
"Three nights? Yeah, three should do." You still had countries to check off your list.
He nods and asks you to sign the book. While you do so he grabs a key from the wall behind him. You pass him the book back and take the key.
"Enjoy your stay."
You nod and take the stairs up. Your room was nice. Big enough for one person and on the main street side, where you came up to get here. You could just about see the square from the window.
You sat on the bed. Perfect. There was a TV, but something told you it would be Sokovian television. Maybe you could watch it just for the sake of it.
You lay back on the bed and took our your phone, calling Wanda.
She picked up almost immediately.
"Y/N, where are you?"
You smile, "Sokovia. You were right, Wanda, it's very pretty here."
You hear her little gasp down the phone.
"You're actually there? You're making me homesick now."
You chuckle softly.
"I'm sorry, Wanda. It's a beautiful city though. I even stopped off at one of the restaurants you listed."
"You did? Which one?"
"Escorpión Morado."
"Escorpión Morado? Oh my gosh! It's still there? Did you meet Heinrich? I remember him being so wonderful to his customers."
"Actually, Wanda, Heinrich passed away a few years ago. His son runs it now, but I guess you could say I did technically meet the owner."
"My heart is saddened to hear of his loss. I do vaguely remember his son. Though back then he worked in the kitchen and very rarely came out."
"Helmut is rather lovely. He stayed and talked to me while I ate."
"Is he cute?"
You roll your eyes at her question.
"He might be," you chuckle.
"Perhaps a romance will spark and you'll be left heartbroken because you'll have to come back here and maybe never see him again. I'll be here watching you drink wine straight from the bottle and gobble down ice cream because you're utterly in love with this man you met once while travelling."
"Wanda, I need you to stop watching those chick flick movies and come back to the real world. I'm not going to fall in love with him. His food, however, is to die for."
"Oh, you're in love with the food. Spain exists, you know."
"I know, I was there, remember? Kind of missing the sun, if I'm being honest, but my God Wanda, this man can cook."
"Marry that man, Y/N. He can cook."
"Wanda, shut up," you laugh with her down the phone.
"Never. Enjoy your time in my home country, Y/N. It honestly means the world to me that you're there."
"In taking photos, don't worry! I'll be home soon, Wanda. See you."
You end the call.
You drop your phone on the bed beside you and stare up at the ceiling. So far you really liked Sokovia, very different from places you had been to so far.
You smile as you think about Helmut. He was certainly the most memorable part of your stay here so far.
Maybe you would visit him again tomorrow.
For the food, obviously.
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angloie · 3 years
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Charms.
(1/?)
> Percy likes to deceive. Lie, manipulate, more lies; it was a part of his job, after all. Annabeth has been deceived. Lied to. Manipulated. She's an woman of many secrets- secrets she'd rather not let anyone know.
> Assassin! Percy x CEO! Annabeth.
> Warnings: Mostly angst + fluff, character death and some violence. Nothing too explicit. Mentions of blood/mild injuries as well as alcohol. (characters are aged up!)
pt. 2 || pt. 3 || pt. 4 || pt. 5
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Percy's thumb rule was never do anything he didn't want.
To live a happy and healthy life, that was completely normal; especially for such a laid back guy like him.
Choosing this... rather wild career was something he wanted to do, willingly. Life was short, so why not make the most of it? It was getting awfully bleak with the normal civilian life. After all, no one would believe the nice young man who helped the old man carry the groceries to his car would be someone who killed for a living. A smile so bright that it could give the sun a run for its money and warm sea green eyes could hide so much more than just innocence.
The ceiling to floor windows of his penthouse showed a breathtaking view of the New York skyline, sun moving behind the tall buildings and moon replacing the orange hue. Being an assassin had its perks- despite endangering his life on multiple occasions. The pay was just out of this world. All that cash just to kill off some sleazy politician, or that one corrupt buisness man? Sign him up. Zero hesitation.
Percy frowned at the dried blood on his once pure white gloves. He was quick to peel them off. He shuddered at the unsightly view of a small stain of blood on his onyx-colored suit.
He would just buy a new one later. Small things like that didn't matter. Sure, that might've been a gift from one of his clients, but it wasn't anything he couldn't replace.
Hanging his coat on the rack beside the wide entrance, he sighed with clear tiredness. One night of forced politeness and smiles took a toll on him- Also due to the fact that he had just done his job as an assassin. It wasn't what you could call easy.
His muscles were aching and sore in all the worst places, every move throbbing with full pain. The shallow slash on his lower abdomen had soaked his shirt in a dark crimson red, most likely going to leave a bad stain. He would have to clean that later.
The penthouse was big and rather spacious. White Walls and abstract paintings lined them, reflecting off the almost pristine marble floors. It took a while for Percy to get settled in, it being a huge place and all that. But he soon made it feel like home with the help of old picture frames that held memories and the Nemo stuffed animals resting on the leather couch.
“WOOF!”
And Mrs. O'leary.
Mrs.O’leary- a huge, slobbering dog with thick black fur- bounded towards him in a frenzied greeting. She hopped up on her hind legs to lick his face, tail wagging at a unmatched speed. She barked again, this time more quieter.
“Yeah, yeah. It's nice to see you too.” Percy laughed as he tried to pull away. Once he went to the kitchen to grab a bone-shaped treat. “Who’s a good girl?” He cooed, tossing the snack in the air. Mrs.O’leary jumped up to snatch it before barking and padding away. Her tail still wagged with elation.
When Percy first moved here, it was quite nerve-racking. He'd heard that this place was an especially good spot for people like him- meaning people who did some illegal activity. Well, that was what he assumed. Percy was 99% sure that his neighbor just in the penthouse below him, (Leo was it?) had to be involved in some sketchy stuff. That creepy smile of his with a mysterious staining his shirt never meant any good. Or maybe when his other neighbor, had a odd looking duffel bag slung across his shoulder. Oddly human shaped, maybe. With a horrible smell of something rotting. Percy recalled introducing himself a Nico DiAngelo. A pretty reserved and quiet guy, usually having a frown of his face. Well, other than that time when he had his boyfriend over, a sunshiney guy with sun-kissed hair. He never got the chance to catch his name.
Wrapping a white cloth around his wound, Percy's met with a sense of familiarity. Fixing his own injuries by himself. It would bee nice to have some help once in a while, but that would mean exposing him. He's definitely not ready to risk that.
Other than his boss and a couple of really close friends, no one knows about this. Percy nearly slipped up once- when a old companion from high school came over to visit, and his small arsenal of weapons were revealed. The little compartment hidden behind a painting. Not another word wasmsaid about it. Percy made up some half-assed excuse about auditioning for a movie so they were fakes.
It didn't take much of a expert, but the were far from fakes.
His phone rang from beside Percy, making him jolt in surprise. The contact name made him smile just the tiniest bit.
"Hey, mom," Percy began. "Why'd you call?"
"Can't your mom check up on you once in a while? How are you?" Sally beamed, cheerful voice on speaker mode.
He walked over to the bathroom where he stood in the full length mirror. A hint of blood seeped through the white bandage; now full wrapped. "Good. How's Paul and Estelle doing?" He asked.
"They're doing great! Me and your step dad went out with Estelle yesterday to see the movies." Sally smiled. "Estelle is growing into such a energetic ball of energy." She joked. "Just like you."
"Is that so?" Percy laughed, splashing his face with water. It felt cool on his skin, causing tiny pricks of coldness to pop up all over.
For a while, him and Sally conversed. She told him about her day (mostly gushing about Paul and Estelle) while Percy smiled and listened. He did his best to hide the fact that he'd been fixing up his wounds in silence. He cursed silently in pain when he touched an sensitive spot on the slash.
"Percy? Are you alright?" Sally asked in concern.
"Yeah! I just... hit my elbow. Its nothing. " He hastily replied.
"Okay," Sally exclaimed in relief. "By the way, when are you going to visit your old woman? Estelle misses you, you know."
"Yeah, well tell her I miss her too." A sense of gloom over took the conversation. "Look, I'm busy now but..." Percy looked over to the mirror again. "I'll call you later. Maybe I can visit you guys over there soon." He exhaled.
"We're looking forward to it! Isn't that right,             Estelle?" Sally gave the phone to the little girl who was jumping with excitement.
"Come over soon Perce!" She garbled. It sounded like she was eating something halfway.
"I will. Talk to you later, 'Kay?"
"'Kay!"
A wave of guilt overwashed Percy as soon as he ended the call. It was killing him inside, to not be honest with them about his real job. They just thought he was a simple marine biologist who got one hell of a promotion. Yeah, he wished. That seemed easier than killing for a living. He was going to tell them sooner or later. He just had to. Not today- not anytime soon, that is.
Jolting himself out of his thoughts, Percy's phone rang. He was quick to answer it. Was it Sally calling again? Percy put down the metal spoon he was holding, letting it rest in the pot of soup bubbling on the flat stove. 
“Hey, Percy!” The horribly familiar voice rang from the other side of the line. Percy grimaced.
“What is it?” He groaned.
“Is that any way to talk to your boss?” He tsked. “But I have news for you!”
“Do tell,” Percy muttered and went back to his soup. 
“I have a mission.” Apollo grinned widely. “You up for it?”
“Again? Didn't I just do one yesterday?” Percy rolled his eyes. He was tired; completely tired. Usually the missions weren't this close together- sometimes they could be even months apart.
“Yeah, but this one won't happen for a week or so. And it ain't just the typical mission.”
“Yeah? And what's that?”
“Its a info operation. Meaning-”
“I know what that means!” Percy interjected. “Just tell me the details already. I’m hungry.”
“Jeez, okay mr. grump. Annabeth Chase. You know her?” Apollo said, scoffing at Percy's tone.
“You mean the owner of that one architecture company? What about her?” He asked.
“She’s connected with Thalia Grace and Luke Castellan.” Appolo explained. “Apparently people have been talking about their new heist that they're planning. By what I've heard, it's going to be huge.” 
Those three names- Thalia Grace, Luke Castellan, Annabeth Chase. Annabeth especially, was the most well known in the regular world. Her being the stoic founder of Athchase as well as being a crazy rich and famous person, that's a no brainer. Luke and Thalia, on the other hand, their heists were well known anywhere. Annabeth didn't have a criminal record of any sorts. That's a big reason she can keep up her reputation. It's not like the woman did anything wrong, its just that... the fact that she is connected with the two is enough to ensure suspicion. Growing rumors of her planning some of their crimes were spreading fast. Percy's heard of things like that, her being the mastermind of killing and stealing.
“Alright," He nodded. "Im interested. Go on."
“New York. That's where the three plan to meet up. Get information, maybe use your charms into getting her to trust you."
"N-new york..!?" Percy was left shocked at that.
"I've booked a flight there. 5 in the morning sharp tomorrow. I reccomend you arrive on time." Apollo chuckled.
"Yeah, whatever."
"And Percy?" He called out.
"Hm?"
"You have my full permission to kill Annabeth when you're done." Apollo darkly said, hanging up without another word. Percy rolled his eyes for the tenth time on the call.
Well, all right.
Next destination: New York.
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"So, New York, huh." Annabeth swirled some of her cocktail in the glass, circling her wrist in a rotation. The blue liquid swirled together in a repetitive motion. Sapphire Martini tasted rather bitter on her tounge, but decent nonetheless. She enjoyed the slight orange twist.
"Why here of all places?" She asked.
"Its a golden opportunity, dear Annie. The Olympians only gather once in a blue moon, so we're going to make the most out of this!" Thalia sipped from her own glass, some regular red wine. She'd never had such a taste for 'Those fancy rich drinks'. Whatever that meant.
The Olympians, as Thalia said before, were a group of 12 of some of the wealthiest and prestigious people from across the world. Only a few select people could be a part- it was exclusive as to anybody who was just normal as a couple million rich. New York would be holding a auction quite soon on a famous opera house; and surprise, they would be there.
"Don't call me that." Annabeth winced at the name. "And who exactly is we?"
"Don't go all acting like you didn't agree, alright? Plus, you can gain a thing or two from all this." She grinned.
"I have a company to run, Thals, You know very well that I dropped that type of business years ago." Annabeth shook her head. "This is seriously risky."
"But you love that. Don't you?" Thalia pressed, standing up.
She truly did. The thrill, the rush of energy you couldn't get anywhere else. Thats what had driven her to join Thalia and Luke in the first place. That feeling alone made her eyes sparkle with desire.
"Yeah." Annabeth places her drinkdown back on the glass table. "I do."
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Okay I'm back with some more hot garbage!!! here's my latest thing-- a assassin au. I need to do a ship other than percabeth tho 😔😔
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takadasaiko · 5 years
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Second Chances: Chapter Six
FFN II AO3
Summary: Steve has every intention of returning the Infinity Stones to their correct place in the timeline and heading back to his own. His problems start when he makes an impulse decision to jump over to 1946 and Peggy decides to go back home with him. It only gets more complicated from there when Howard tags along with them to 2023. Tony lives fix-it fic. Pepperony.
Chapter Summary: Steve tries to figure out how to best handle the situation without admitting to Tony that he's brought not one but two people from the past into 2024.
Chapter Six
Howard had always liked a good challenge, and convincing Steve and Peggy that he had reluctantly given up on the idea of going with them had certainly been one. Peg lived in a state of suspicion with him - especially after his fib over the vile a few weeks before - and Steve had called him on his tendency to misdirect and straight out lie more than once during the War. He had been questioning when the ruse would be up, but now the question seemed to be which one of them would take a swing first. Howard lifted his hands in defense. "It's not nearly as bad as you're thinking it is."
"No, it's worse," Steve snapped.
"How? You talk to your buddy - Tony, right? The one that set you up with that suit - and he'll be able to send me back to the same day I left. No biggie. I'll even get to deliver Peg's letter."
He glanced over to find Peggy massaging the bridge of her nose, all of the earlier joy and excitement completely washed out of her. "That's never been the issue Howard. I'm staying, but if you go back seeing all of the advancements, everything that could suddenly have Starkon it rather than whatever name should have been attached —"
"Ouch, Peg. You think I'm here to, what? Steal technology? Like I can't come up with my own?"
"You don't have to steal anything to alter your own timeline in ways that can't-"
"Like taking Peggy from it?" Howard cut Steve off, the amusement no longer lining his voice. He'd expected pushback and plenty of eye rolling, maybe even a swing in his direction, but this was rich coming from them. "Yeah, neither of you have a lot of wiggle room on that one. I'm not going to destroy time and space by being here. Not how it works. Hell, I could meet myself and three generations after me and all it'd do is make for a potentially awkward situation." He pulled in a breath, trying to reel in the burst of temper along with it. "I just want to see it. Walk through Manhattan and then I'll go home like I was never here at all. You've seen it, Peg gets to see it…. All I'm doin' is asking for a chance to peek through the curtain. That's it. No harm done, I swear."
The breeze pushing at the trees overhead was the only sound for a long moment as both Cap and Peggy stared at him. Finally Steve loosed a breath. "We'll have to get ahold of a couple of people to make it happen."
"See, not so bad," Howard responded, his tone light again.
Cap didn't look entirely convinced as he pushed forward. "C'mon."
Peggy followed immediately, falling into lockstep with him. Howard waited half a beat before hurrying to join them. Well, it hadn't been smooth, but at least he'd made it.
                                                      ___________
The first thing he did was grab a newspaper. June 2024. Okay. That wasn't…. terrible. Not great, but not terrible. He'd been gone just a little under a year then, even though it had only been a couple of weeks for him. That added complications, sure, but at least it wasn't decades this time.
Steve had no idea if his apartment would have been leased to someone else, but that was his second stop. If he were lucky - really lucky - the key would be….. there.
"Checkin' to see if the maid cleaned while you were away?" Howard popped off behind him as Steve ran his fingers along the top of the trimming around the door. He held up the key that he found there and Howard chuckled, lifting his hands in defeat.
Steve fit the key into the lock and turned, hearing the mechanisms shift and the lock slide out of place. He turned the knob and pushed inward. He was met immediately by the muted sound of the television. He was sure he didn't leave one on. Mostly because he didn't even own one when he'd left.
"Someone kept it up," Peggy said cautiously and Steve made a small sound of acknowledgement.
He was halfway to telling Howard to wait outside when the creek of the old, pre-war apartment's floor sounded a warning and Peggy shouted as Steve spun, meeting his attacker to block the blow aimed at him. Both men froze and he found a set of dark eyes on him. "I'll be damned," Sam Wilson managed. "Cap. You're back."
His lips tilted at the corners and he lowered his defenses. "Yeah, Sam. I'm back."
"With friends," the other man said uncertainly, motioning to Peggy and Howard.
Steve cleared his throat. "Yeah…. Sam, this is Peggy Carter and Howard….. Stark."
The younger man's expression inched towards amusement. "Hell, Cap. He's gonna kill you."
Steve didn't even have to ask who he was. He was well aware. "Yeah, I know. I, uh…. We're going to fix it. I'd rather let him know after we get Howard back to the past."
Sam lifted an eyebrow. "So…. she's staying?"
"She is," Peggy grumbled, obviously irritated at being talked about without being included.
"But he's not?"
Steve could feel the tension building in the room between the questions and the lack of names and the overall vagueness that wouldn't set well with anyone. Peggy had squared her shoulders next to him and Howard…. okay apparently the tension was all Peggy. Howard was halfway into the apartment. His fingers drifted over the TV that Sam must have brought with him when he'd taken over Steve's lease, dark eyes wide as he explored every inch.
The inventor crouched down in front of the entertainment center, fixated. "Is this a television?" he managed, and Steve was sure he'd never heard his old friend impressed until that moment. Great. The twenty-first century was going to give Tony's father an aneurysm and there'd be no sending him back. That'd be about the way things played out.
"Yeah…" Sam answered uncertainly.
"And these?" Howard asked, pointing at a collection of various boxes below the TV.
"Uhh… Blu Ray player and gaming systems." He turned to look directly at Steve. "Am I allowed to tell him that?"
"I'm not sure he'd give up until you did," Steve huffed and kept a wary eye on Howard as he continued to explore like a child on Christmas morning shaking gifts under the tree.
"So," Peggy cut in. "Sam, was it?"
"Wilson," Sam acknowledged, reaching a hand out to shake her. "And you are the Peggy Carter. Co-founder of SHIELD."
"Not anymore," she said tensely.
"In our timeline you are. Still makes you damn impressive. Ma'am."
She cracked a small smile at that and Steve found his friend's gaze back in him. "We thought you were gone."
"I took a detour."
"I can see that."
"And you moved into my place."
Sam looked sheepish. "We knew how long it took you to secure a place in Brooklyn that wasn't crazy expensive, and it just…. we couldn't let just anybody take it."
"We?" Steve echoed.
"You've missed a lot in the last few months."
A loud crash sounded off from the kitchen and the three vets jumped, all ready for a fight. Howard peeked around the corner from the kitchen. "Everything's good. It's fine. No irreparable harm done. You weren't attached to those big red bowls, were you, Sammy?"
Sam paled slightly. "You broke my popcorn bowl?!"
                                                     ___________
There was a shrill squeal that accompanied the five-year-old piling into the middle of the bed. Tony was halfway to sitting before his sleep-addled mind pieced together what was happening. He heard Pepper groan at his side and he reached up blindly, catching Morgan's around the shoulders with his arm and dragging her down into a hug she couldn't pull out of. Morgan squirmed and giggled, but her daddy had her locked into the bear hug, a smile tilting his lips even though his eyes were still closed
"Daddy! Let goooooo."
"Nope. I'm sleeping."
"No you're not!"
"Uh-huh."
"Nu-uh!"
"How did I end up with two kids?" Pepper groaned, and before Tony knew it there was a pillow being awkwardly smacked in their general direction.
"Pillow fight!" Morgan announced.
"Tony, I swear if you let her up —" his wife warned, but he was already loosing his grip.
"What can I say, hon? She's just too good. Regular contortionist. There's no holding her."
Morgan went after her mom first, Pepper laughing as she shielded her face. It wasn't long until she turned on her father too, and the Stark household dissolved into giggly chaos. By the end up it Tony was standing on the bed, feet sinking into the memory foam mattress, and in a standoff with his daughter.
"Drop your weapon or face Iron Girl!" Morgan announced in all seriousness and Tony had to swallow the burst of laughter.
"I thought you'd be at least thirteen before I became the villain. What'd I do?"
"Jumped on the bed and taught our daughter terrible habits," Pepper deadpanned from the bathroom that she had retreated to in order to stay as far away from the waging war as possible.
"You tried to blow up the world," Morgan told him matter-of-factly.
"Wow. I am bad. You're right," he said with a grin.
"I'm gonna beat you!" Morgan announced and threw the pillow, adding sound effects that sounded at least vaguely like the energy beams from the Iron Man suit.
The cube of fluff hit his shins and Tony made a show of going down, bouncing against the bed and flopping out. He felt Morgan creep closer and he cracked an eye open. "You saved the world. Good job, kiddo."
She grinned, showing off her newly missing tooth. "Can I have cinnamon toast for breakfast?"
"Definitely." He scooped her up on his way to rolling off the bed. "Pep, you want an omelet?"
"Just a smoothie. Do we have spinach?" she called from the bathroom.
"We do."
"With banana, please."
"I think I can manage that."
"No strawberries!"
"I know!" he chuckled as he slipped his feet into his slippers, flexing the fingers of his right hand. Stiff and a little slow, they still moved on command, even without the brace. It had been a full week since he'd had to use it, Peter's altered formula for Extremis proving to do the job without leaving his brain itching for more. The kid was good, he had to give him that. The real test would come when the nerve damage was fully repaired and he completely cut himself off from the localized doses. All he would have to rely on was the glowing ARC reactor in his chest to keep his heart beating, but that was hardly abnormal. Strangely enough it had almost been like welcoming back an old friend.
"Boss, Peter Parker is calling in," FRIDAY's voice echoed as Tony and Morgan made it down the stairs and into the kitchen.
"What's the kid doing up at this hour?"
"Fighting bad guys?" Morgan offered.
"Maybe. If so, he missed curfew and his aunt's gonna kill him."
"What's curfew?"
Tony glanced down, finding a big pair of brown eyes latched curiously on him. The questions never ended and he loved it. "When you need to be home," he explained to his daughter. "FRIDAY, put him through."
There was a click of the call connecting as Tony grabbed for the ingredients he needed, Morgan hopping from a stool to the table top and sitting there. She started to cross her legs on the table, but one look from her dad stopped that in its tracks. She gave him the most innocent grin he was sure he'd ever seen. He shot her a look. "Halo's a little crooked there, missy."
"Mr Stark?" Peter's uncertain voice echoed over the speakers.
"Good morning, Pete. You're up early."
"You too."
"If I told you I wasn't would you feel guilty?"
There was a long pause on the other end. "But FRIDAY wouldn't have…. you're joking aren't you?"
"Yup." Tony started sprinkling sugar and cinnamon on the bread. "What's up, kid?"
"Oh, uh…. hows's the new dose working out? Still lasting?"
"So far so good, but I doubt you called me at six in the morning to find that out."
"Daddy, more cinnamon," Morgan instructed and be quirked an eyebrow before dumping more on. She gave a nod of approval.
"Not that I don't like hearing from you, kid, but —"
"CaptainRogersisback."
It took a long moment for his pre-caffeinated brain to work through the run-together words, and even as he did he had trouble believing them. His hands stilled, his eyes unblinking. "What?"
"Captain Rogers is back," Peter said again, slower this time.
"Back?"
"Yeah."
"How…? And how long?"
"I don't know the details. I shouldn't even be telling you…."
"Like hell you shouldn't," Tony growled. "Where'd you hear it?"
"Uhhh….. through the Avengers grapevine."
Avengers grapevine? What did that even mean? Tony hadn't been thatfar out of the loop. "Where is he?"
"His place. In Brooklyn. From what I heard," Peter said, his voice entirely uncertain.
Tony pulled in a steadying breath. "Okay. I'll get to the bottom of it. Just…." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Peter didn't need any other pressure on him right then. "Thanks, kid. You did good."
"Really? I didn't break some kind of code or something, did I?"
"Probably, but you kept the one that mattered. I'll be in the city today. I'll drop by and we can talk after you're out of school."
"I'm… on summer break?"
"Right. Okay. Good. After I get done one Brooklyn."
"Do you need the address?"
"No, I've got it." He glanced up at the speaker. "End call."
"Is Uncle Steve in trouble?" Morgan asked from the table.
"He's got some explaining to do," her father grumbled.
"Can he explain after you make cinnamon toast?"
Tony blinked at the half put together breakfast he'd promised his daughter. "Yeah, sweetie. Uncle Steve can wait."
                                                     ___________
It was one delay after another. First breakfast, then Pepper decided she needed to go into the city that day too, so instead of hopping in the car and going, Tony was waiting on his wife and daughter to get ready. She could tell him all day long that she needed to go into the office for this or that, but she hadn't let him drive the two hours from their cabin into the city alone since they had moved back out. He had the OK from every doctor that mattered saying that he could drive again, but that didn't seem to satisfy her. What if something happened? It was a lingering, albeit unspoken fear, and as much as he would like to he couldn't quite hold it against her. Or tell her no. It was one less thing she had to worry about, even if he knew he was doing better than he had been in a long time.
"Do we get to see Pete?" Morgan asked as she bounded down the stairs, fully dressed and ready to go.
"Yep. After I talk to Uncle Steve."
"Can I see Uncle Steve too?"
"Why don't we let your daddy talk to him first? You can help me at the office," Pepper offered and she looked ready for a board meeting. Maybe she really had been planning to go in that day.
Morgan made a face at the idea and Tony reached out to ruffle her hair. "I won't be long."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"You ready?" Pepper asked as she grabbed the key fob from the ring by the door.
"Any chance you'll let me drive?"
Surprisingly enough she tossed the key his way and he reached up, thankful that his fingers chose to wrap around it rather than let it clatter to the floor. If it was a test or not really didn't matter. He felt like he'd won something in that. One more small step forward.
The trip was filled with Morgan's chatter in and around Pepper filling him in on the meetings she had scheduled for that day. Happy would meet her there and make sure Morgan wouldn't be too bored. Tony was sure that their head of security just lovedthe idea of being put on babysitting duty.
By the time he dropped them off at their New York headquarters plans had changed five times before finally settling on calling Peter to come keep her occupied. He left the situation in the best of hands before turning the Audii towards Brooklyn, his mind racing in the fresh silence. They had told him that Cap hadn't made it back, which they had all taken to mean that something had happened to him. What, they couldn't be sure, but popping back up nearly a year later didn't make any sense. Not telling Tony that he was back made even less. He had thought that, after everything, they were good. When he had left they had been good.
Tony pulled the car up to an apartment building that he'd never seen in person. It was old. Pre-war. Just the type Cap would have gone for. Sam Wilson had moved into it when Cap hadn't come back, so he must know that Steve was home. Who was next in the so-called Avengers grapevine was anybody's best guess. He still wasn't sure how Peter had found out, and he'd been too surprised that morning to press the kid on it.
A tap came at his window and Tony jumped in his seat, turning to find a patrol cop leaned down. "You lost, buddy?" he asked, but as Tony rolled the window down he watched surprise take hold.
"Nah, I'm good. Just here to see a friend."
"Holy crap. You're Iron Man."
"Used to be."
"I heard what you did…. everybody did. Are those —"
He was motioning to the scars that lined the right side of Tony's face and the former Avenger immediately opened the door. "'Scuse me, but I'm already late. You mind?"
"Oh yeah. Yeah, sure. Listen, if it's not too much trouble, my son is a huge fan of yours."
Tony offered a thin smile. "Sure, what's his name?"
A scrawled signature and photo later Tony was on his way up the flights of stairs, feeling it by the time he reached Cap's floor.
He stopped at the door, pulling in a shaky breath and steadying himself. It was fine. He'd get answers and that irritating, nagging feeling of being purposefully left in the dark would dissipate. Cap was always annoyingly consistent in having his reasons for doing things. He reached up, ready to tap against the door as it pulled open from the inside.
Suddenly Steve Rogers was standing right in front of him, a look of surprise plastered on his face. "Tony," he breathed, a little guilt around the edges of his name.
"Knew you were forgetting to tell someone something, huh?" Tony tried for a quip.
"Steve, is really like to see —" The woman who owned the voice rounded the corner and slammed to a stop. "Oh. Hello."
Steve sucked in a breath. "Tony, this is —"
"Peggy Carter," Tony finished for him, the first real smile touching his lips since that morning. "This is all making a lot more sense."
"You're not mad?"
The question sounded too small to be coming out of Captain America's mouth and Tony cracked a grin as he stepped into the apartment. "Well, you're not gonna shatter time and space, I don't think. I'm sure her new timeline will find a way to compensate." He turned to meet his friend's eyes. "You deserve a little happiness after everything. I get it, Cap."
A rush of air left the older man. "You don't know how good it is to hear you say that."
"That doesn't mean I'm not gonna hold this over your head until one of us finally bites the dust."
"Cap, did you say Tony? Your inventor friend?" a voice called out and Tony looked over. That voice sounded like —
"Holy shit," Tony breathed as Howard Stark rounded the corner.
                                                     ___________
TBC
Notes: And to think I thought this chapter was going to be on the short side... I had a lot of fun with this one. Pepperony fluff, Iron Fam, and Tony realizing that Steve not only brought one person back from the 40's, but two... the other being his dad. I've been looking forward to this chapter for a long time lol Even more so the next chapter.
Next Time: Tony tries to process what's going on and Steve asks for help.
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gothify1 · 4 years
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Welcome to Second Life, a podcast spotlighting successful women who've made major career changes—and fearlessly mastered the pivot. Hosted by Hillary Kerr, co-founder and chief content officer at Who What Wear, each episode will give you a direct line to women who are game changers in their fields. Subscribe to Second Life on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or anywhere else you listen to stay tuned. Alison Cayne wants you to do your homework. After having five kids in eight years, going back to school to get a master’s degree in food studies, and founding Haven’s Kitchen (a multi-vertical culinary business—cooking school, café, and event space plus  a line of all-natural refrigerated sauces), you could say she knows how to get shit done. And while hearing her life story will no doubt leave you questioning any personal narrative that’s been stunting your own professional growth, her realistic advice is equally as refreshing. “I’ve sort of leaned into my 48-year-old female self, and I think that we approach things just a little differently… as opposed to, you know, I’ve got a dream, and I’m going for a $10 million valuation,” she tells Hillary Kerr in this week’s episode of Second Life. Growing up as an only child in New York, Cayne craved a togetherness that seemed to be lacking. By the age of eight, she discovered the power cooking had in creating a sense of community, and by the time she had her first child at 22, cooking was part of the gig she found comfort and familiarity in. Looking around at her friends, however, she couldn’t necessarily say the same. She realized how much “fear and loathing around the kitchen” there seemed to be, and so Cayne took it upon herself to demystify cooking, teaching classes from her home. “I taught all the way through having one and then two and then five kids,” she says. Though she wasn't comfortable charging for the classes (imposter syndrome, is it you?), through hosting them, Cayne gained an understanding of the roadblocks that made cooking intimidating for so many—knowledge that would prove invaluable in her career to come. At 38, with her youngest off to nursery school, Cayne decided to enroll in NYU's Food Studies program. She was ready to get rid of an old idea she had of herself—that she wasn't a professional go-getter. During her first semester, she was advised to get an internship, "which I just sort of guffawed at," she admits, but found an open position as the head of the education station at the Union Square Green Market, giving school tours about farming practices, agriculture, and sustainability. By the time she received her master’s degree, Cayne had created a professional mission to change the way people feel about cooking, and she set out to find a space where she could bring the home cooking classes and sustainability education she had been teaching at the Green Market together under one roof. When she found a carriage house two blocks from the farmers market, her vision immediately expanded as she pictured a café in front, classes in the back, and a bar on the second floor. “I figured if there was ever a time to invest in myself, this was it,” she says. And so, in 2012, the first iteration of Haven’s Kitchen was born. After tinkering with the business model—adjusting the number of cooking classes offered, rethinking the retail assortment in the café, and realizing the immense potential as an event space—Haven’s Kitchen has become a well-oiled machine. Since opening their doors in 2012, the team has taught over 10,000 classes, planned over 300 unique weddings, and hosted over one million guests and students. Still, in 2018, Cayne went back to the mission of changing the way people feel about cooking, and felt she could do more to fulfill it, “and that's why we started, you know, the CPG part,” she says casually. Cayne laughs when she uses jargony words like “scalable,” but scale was what she needed if she was going to continue working toward her lofty mission. With a focus group of cooking students to consult every night, she came to the hypothesis that by creating high-quality, all-natural condiments—think peppery romesco and bright chimichurri—she could provide more home cooks with a sense of excitement and confidence in the kitchen. To test the idea, she brought her initial assortment of sauces to New York’s Fancy Food Show. Within the hour, the Whole Foods and Fresh Direct buyer were at her table asking about case count and distribution. Today, Haven’s Kitchen Sauces are in close to 1000 retailers. Tune in to this week's episode of Second Life to hear how Cayne is building an impressive culinary brand and powerhouse career with skills she learned from her first life as a mom of five. And to shop your new favorite condiments, keep scrolling. Next up, hear how Shelley Gibbs Sanders created a new kind of fine-jewelry experience.
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holdon-a-minute · 4 years
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As Time Repeats
Chapter I
A New World
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*Present Day*
Shuffling feet, deep laughs, screeching brakes, choirs of songbird, pieces of conversation...each adding to create the loud bustle that loafs through the street. Listening. She slowly raises her eyelids, to only be greeted by the soft morning sun welcoming each body with its warmth.
Shining smiles, trees of chartreuse, paves of stone grey, breeze-caught hair...all merging together to paint one picturesque scene. Watching. She rests back onto the wooden public bench, controlled deep breaths escaping through her button nose.
Mature parfum, strong mowed grass, golden-baked delicacies, polluting fumes, freshly ground coffee beans...scents of good and bad are to be known everywhere you turn. Inhaling.
Now comes feel.
"Ugh..." Renae lets out an exasperated breath in defeat, sitting her elbows on her spread knees and burying her face deep in her dry palms. She tightly traps her airways, holding her breath as the tears threaten to spill from her eyes once again, before she stops herself and forces the words off her tongue, "I do not want to feel this way." She may not be happy now, she thinks to herself, but this is the start of a new beginning. And at new beginnings there is always hope. "Be optimistic..!" she whispers to herself, but Renae knows better than anyone that it's hardest to keep up with your new start when you didn't even want it in the first place.
Standing from the bench, she turns her judging eyes away from the classy lady who had tried to sit down beside her, and soppily strolls down the direction of her destination. Renae pushes herself past—fitted in her signature style of a soft fabric zip-hoodie and a dark leather jacket layered on top—determined to get through the swarm of bodies and make it back to her quiet house quickly. She wanders through Paris as if she's known it all her life now; the street of shops damp and dewy. Wind whistles through her raw ears as they heed the leftover rain that pitter-patters through gutters, down drain pipes and into the city grids.
The screeching, beeping of a pedestrian crossing makes a deafening echo as Renae and a huddle of rushing people cross the cobbled road, instantly zooming her back into focus of reality. Walking through the avenues of France you can smell dozens of different scents everywhere and anywhere. But Renae's favourite of all, she's come to realise, is the trace of a gingerbread man that runs past her. Every time, he calls out, and every time she ends up chasing him to Mr Baker's Bakery. Mmm, the bakery. This is where the baker she's come to know torments everybody with his luscious pies and pastries sitting on display in the window. And when he opens his huge oven door every day, religiously at 10:30, the whole road is filled with the most sensational smell of freshly baked bread rolls.
When her leg starts to vibrate, she reaches into her pocket and answers the person calling, "Hello."
"Ren, how come you're not home yet? You're going to be late."
"I'm on my way now Alice, and I've got half an hour yet. That's plenty of time to get ready."
"Well have you had any lunch yet? You can't go on an empty stomach your nerves will get the better of you."
Renae chuckles, "I'm not that nervous Al, I'll just eat an apple or something on the way there."
"An apple? Alright then, whatever suits you, I'm not going to argue with you on this important day now am I?"
"No, and I shouldn't think so," she teases as a smile plays at her lips and Renae rounds the corner. "Right, I'm round the corner now I'll be two minutes."
"Okay hun, see you in a minute. Bye."
"Bye!"
Renae was now in the neighborhood, the rush of the street of shops (as Renae and Alice call it) now gone, giving way to the open and tranquility of her housing estate. She loves her short over-the-phone conversations with Alice. They always play quite amusingly, and never fail to reveal their bond of trust, love and laughs.
She swings into the hallway of her home, and is almost immediately greeted with a "Hello!" coming from another unlocated room of the two-bed house, as usual. She shouts back a 'Hi!" and rushes upstairs, dodging another of her Aunty Alice's extremely energetic speeches that are supposed to be the best motivator out there. She changes into something a bit more formal, touching up her makeup as she passes the standing mirror, fills her faux leather bag with almost everything from her desk (just in case), picks up an apple and heads back out onto the street, where her taxi is conveniently waiting.
"Good luck!" Alice wails as she watches her niece drive straight into the fate of adulthood.
~~~~
*Ding-a-ling*
Renae steps through the old brown door and enters the café she hopes to call a workplace sometime soon. The space is fairly large considering its compact look from the outside, and it is so beautiful—everything the young photographer in the corner would need for his aesthetically pleasing Instagram page. She lets the soft, welcoming atmosphere envelop her whole as she strolls deeper into the intricate café, the warmth of brewing tea, the fresh scent of lavender, the ancient bookcase lining the wall, the smokey smell of lit candles, the dark brown wooden furniture, all making Renae feel as cozy as you can be in a Paris café. The building has an aged, withering feel, but the dozens of lush green plants dangling from ceiling to floor brought the life back into the room quickly; the pop of bright emerald managing to spark the creativity into any person who might pass through.
She finds her way to the counter, and politely addresses the waitress. "Hi, I'm here for a job interview with the owner. My name's Renae Cruzette, I rang a few days ago."
"Oh chéri, that would be me," the woman speaks in perfect English, but with a French roll to her tongue, "Come with me and we'll have a seat. Would you like some tea?"
"Green tea would be nice, thanks," Renae replies and finds a small round table for two to sit down.
"I'm Clemence Rosher—founder, owner—of this place, as you will already know."
Renae smiles and does a little laugh, "It's nice to meet you Clemence." The two shake hands as the bleach-blonde woman passes Renae a steaming mug of green tea, the teabag still left in of course.
"Yes and you are Renae Cruzette, you said?"
"Mhm." Renae was waiting for the traffic of questions to come along and preparing herself not to get stuck or lost in them, but they never did, and she finds herself feeling utterly relaxed with the welcoming woman before her.
"So, let's get down to business yes? Why are you here today?"
"I'm looking for a first job actually, and when I heard you were hiring it seemed perfect, because I don't live too far from here and I love baking every now and then, as well as being creative with coffee art. I'm quite the artistic person, you see."
"Good good. That's what I like to hear," Clemence looks into Renae's eyes and gives a shining bright smile, "So are you willing to give your all into this job? I need someone new, someone fresh who will put a part of their soul into my café. I need perseverance, a respectful and capable person. Why would I choose you?"
"I am all of those things and more Miss."
"Madame," she interrupts.
"Right, sorry Madame."
"Who always comes first in my business?"
"The customer does, always!" Renae eagerly answers after not understanding the question for a few seconds.
"Are you good with mathematics? Can you quickly count change?"
"Yes, I graded a nine in my GCSE when I lived in England."
"In England you say? I thought you had a different accent chéri!"
"Yeah I just recently moved here actually."
"Tell me a bit about that then. Why did you move, are you here permanently?" Clemence curiously asks.
"I think I'll be staying here for a good few years now until I have the money to move out and go back to Britain. I've always lived with my Aunty, ever since I was a baby. My parents have never been around, I don't even remember my mother's face, but my Aunty Alice got a promotion, so we had to move here."
"Oh chéri that must be terrible for you, not even knowing your parents!"
"It's fine really! I love Alice so much, she's always been there for me and I respect her with all my heart for deciding to take me in, but she never took the opportunity to become my mother. She's always been my aunty and kept the truth at bay about my parents."
"I see, so is she your true biological aunt then?"
"Yes! She's my father's sister."
"Oh she must be so very brave then, I admire her strength taking in just a child!"
"I do too. You know she is French as well, so it was a delight to her when the company said she'd be moving to their Paris branch. She took me in when she was just eighteen, and we both went to England so she could finish university. It was very stressful for her, and I am so greatful for her determination to not only provide a steady life for herself, but for a child that wasn't even her own too!"
*Snap*
"Yes she sounds like an amazing woman! So how old are you now then?"
"Seventeen."
*Snap*  The photographer guy's camera clicks away
"When would you be willing to start? I'd have to give you some training first of course, but it'd be nothing major."
"As soon as possible Clemence!"
"Okay then how about I give you a call next Monday when I'm ready for you to come down? I have meetings and all sorts until then."
*Snap*
*Snap*
"Perfect, thank you so much!"
"Oh no worries, I have great expectations of you," and she give Renae a wink as they stand and part ways, Renae not knowing yet that it'd be the last time she speaks to the friendly woman who owns a café.
*Snap*
~~~~
Five days later.
"Alice, she still hasn't rang me after three days!" Renae bursts as she storms into the kitchen. A series of transparent patio doors line the back wall of the completely white kitchen, the only colour of the room being the numbers of herbs scattered along the windowsills and the grey laminate flooring below. It reminds Renae of a hospital, and she would very much like to hand some paintings on the walls and colourful flowers, nevertheless it's still comfortable to be in when you've got Alice as company.
"She probably just forgot, don't stress," Alice reassures her.
"I saw her write it in her diary! And she definitely said that she was going to employ me. It's getting ridiculous! Even if she did change her mind about me, a little text to apologise wouldn't hurt!"
"I know, she shouldn't have left you hanging like that, that is very unprofessional," Alice speaks in such a wise, calming manner.
"I really would've liked that job as well," she says saddened now, "It would've met all my needs of a simple first job, but one that I would still enjoy and be easy to settle into."
"I know Ren, but you can't just sit here sulking about it, why don't you go back there and see what's going on with this woman—for your own sake at least."
"What if I make it more awkward though?"
"You won't. You're only going to politely ask when you're going to be set for some training, because you've got other things you need to attend and you can't keep having it delayed or being left in the dark."
"I suppose..."
"Come on, it's not fair on you that she's done this, so go and change out of that old hoodie and get down there standing loud and proud!"
"Okay, thanks Al," and Renae gives her understanding Aunty a bear hug, then rushes upstairs to prepare herself to face Clemence again.
~~~~
The moment she steps out of the front door, an ear-splitting ring starts to sound in Renae's earlobes and an eye-aching migraine begins to crawl into her mind. She should just brush it off, but not matter how hard she tries, Renae just can't shake the bad feeling that drops to the pit of her stomach and the butterflies that flutter up and get lodged in her throat. Renae steadies herself on the doorway for a second, closing her eyes to ease the pounding in her head. She takes a shaky breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, and pushes aside this feeling, ready to take on her plan of action.
Her taxi ride seems to drag on for hours in the stuffy, cramped backseat, the breeze of the day barely noticeable even with the car windows all open. The heat is almost unbearable. Renae can't understand if it's anxiety (which she's never experienced before), or an illness she's suddenly caught that's making her feel this way, but something isn't sitting right in her flesh and bones. Due to the long, unmoving queue of vehicles, Renae decides to just pay the taxi driver now and walk down the rest of the way where café stood stunningly at the end of the road.
She looks about her to see that everyone is busy trying to get to places, and as she strolls further down the street she notices that she's come to a hidden alleyway, "Millbreury Lane, hm." Given her situation and the want to avoid it completely, Renae roams down the alleyway of tall, old-fashioned buildings taking her time to observe her exquisite surroundings.
Right along the bottom of the attached buildings are stores, and they are magnificent to the eye: cafés sit with intricate metal tables and chairs outside; hanging baskets spread throughout are filled with the most colourful, delicate flowers; antique shops showcase their treasures in the wide window each store possesses; and the cobbled floor beneath glows and sparkles as the afternoon sun shines down on the moist puddles and excess rain.
*Chuchak*
Renae stands still. So impossibly still.
The beautiful antique alleyway seems to disappear around her in slow motion as Renae is sucked back into reality and her eyes are met with metal.
Thick, cold, silver-grey metal.
Pointed at her forehead, in-between her eyes, is a slick handgun. For a while she cannot see the person whose hand is slid around the trigger, nor the group of men accompanying them. For a while, it was just her and the weapon, playing a dangerous game in a little world of their own—the opponent not even alive but still taking the lead and winning the girl over completely. She cannot break her eyes away from the metal in front of her, and the hand-held violence cannot take its eyes off Renae.
She feels frozen in her place, barely able to breathe, as the gun wielder speaks, "Oh chéri," before smacking Renae over the side of her head with the loaded gun.
All soon went black.
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