#woot woot some baker Shawn!!

[lonelyreputation]

The Optimist (Baker AU)

A/N: Hi! Hi! Baker!Shawn is here and as soft as ever! My mind is a bit scattered at the moment, but I can promise you it’s throughly edited!! Anyway…How is everyone doing?! I hope you had an enjoyable weekend!! 

Annnnd thank you for 100 followers! I've only returned to writing a couple of months ago, so thank you!!! You all are too kind and sweet :’) I have a lot of things written in my docs that just need some editing––so stay tuuunneed  

THANKS A MILLION for all of your support! Your kind words are music to my ears and really encourage me to write more!! Reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated!! 😌💞🌻 

REQUEST/PROMPT: Night wind carrying the scent of freshly baked bread 

Let’s Chat!! | MASTERLIST

Warnings: none :) 

Word Count: 3.6K

You leaned your back against the brick wall, resting your head against the cold brick as you looked up at the stars twinkling in the sky.  Seven minutes, I’ll give you seven minutes, your manager had said to you after you begged to have a little bit of a break after you had just finished serving a rude table.

In through your nose––don’t cry–––Out through your mouth.

You hated waiting tables.  You hated having to plaster on a fake smile at every table.  And you hated having to walk with an extra pep in your step when you were on your feet for four hours.  Most people you waited on were generally pleasant, but there would always be a table or two during a shift that would be act absolutely monstrous.

You pinched your eyes shut––don’t cry––as a soft breeze made its way down the little alley way you had escaped to.  You were sure that at least four minutes of your little break had passed and you dreaded having to walk back in with a sickeningly sweet smile on your face.

“Are you alright?”

You opened your eyes and turned your head to the right.  Standing inside the doorway of the building behind yours was a tall boy with curly brown hair.  He was wearing all white, but the apron tied around his front was stained with various shades of tan, and like the swipe of flour he had on his cheek, his apron was also dotted with spurts of flour.  He smelled of burnt sugar.

“Yeah, I’m––“ you sniffled as you brought the sleeve of your forearm to wipe under your nose, “I’m fine!  Don’t worry.” You had put on your well-trained fake smile in front of the boy.

He wrung out the white towel he held between his hands, he didn’t look convinced, “I tried walking back in, but then I thought you were gonna cry so I came back out.”

An awkward silence filled the air around you as you continued to study him.  He looked unsure of himself.  He seemed as if he wanted to help, but had no idea as to how to help you.  

“You work at The Optimist?” You recalled the name of the bakery that was located behind the restaurant you worked at.

He nodded his head with a genuine smile, “Yeah––I’m Shawn, by the way,” he took a few steps forward, crossing over from the bakery’s domain of the alley way onto the restaurant’s side and stuck out his hand for you to shake.

Scrunching up your eyebrows you hesitantly reached your hand out to connect with his.  He looked to be around your age, early twenty’s, and you didn’t know the last time you had shaken hands with someone your age when introduced.

Shawn dropped your hand, “And you work at The Sunflower?” 

You grimaced and Shawn took notice; his smile dropping into one of a sympathy.  You were about to introduce yourself, but one of your fellow waitresses skidded out the back door with wild eyes.  

“Y/n,” she sounded like she was relieved to have found you, but her tone was urgent and her eyes held terror, “You were supposed to be back two minutes ago, Diane is going insane looking for you.”

At the warning your friend gave you, your eyes doubled in size as you quickly tightened your pony tail––that no doubt had tiny strands flying about that didn’t make it into the hair tie––and bid the baker a quick farewell, “It was nice talking to you, Shawn.”

“Nice meeting you, Y/n.”

You didn’t get to see him as you quickly rounded the corner and rushed back inside before your manager, Diane, laid into you for taking a longer than necessary break.  

•••

Two days later, you found yourself back in the alley way.  And this time instead of begging for a break, you were allowed a whole hour to yourself since you were working a double shift.  You spent the first thirty minutes eating a dinner you brought for yourself, the next fifteen minutes sitting and staring at a wall, and then something in the back of your mind kept nagging you to head to the alley way.

The alley way smelled sweeter than the last time you were here.  The back door to The Optimist bakery was propped open and you were able to smell the aroma coming from inside.  You took a deep breath, hypnotized by the scent of yeast, and let it out only to take another deep breath in.

The smell was stronger than before, hot baked bread must’ve come right out of the oven, you thought.  It reminded you of your grandmother’s house where she was constantly baking loaves sourdough; warmth, comfort, and full of love. 

You caught a whiff of rosemary and closed your eyes in satisfaction.  Whatever bread they were baking in there was full of herbs that flowed out into the street.  If Heaven was on Earth, it would be in this alley way; just you savoring your time alone as the smell of bread breezed out into the night.

“Y/n?”

You opened your eyes to see Shawn standing in the doorway, wearing a concerned face much like the one he wore two days prior when you first met.

“Shawn, hey,” You greeted him with a genuine smile.

He returned his smile as his eyes lit up; he noticed your mood was considerably better than when you first met, “How are you?”

“Really good,” he tilted his head and squinted his eyes at you silently asking you if that was a real honest answer.  You let out a sigh and rubbed your hands over your eyes, “Kinda tired, I’m working a double today but I’m on a break now.”

“You seem better than a few nights ago,” he picked his next words carefully, “Are you feeling better?”

“I don’t want to bore you–––“

Shawn shook his head with a soft smile.  He sat down on the curb and patted the spot next to him for you, “Tell me all about it.”

You crossed over from the restaurant side to the bakery and sat close to your new friend.  You were only sitting about an inch away and you were able to catch a sniff of the sweet smell of the bakery from his apron, “Just some people being rude, it happens a lot so I’m used to it, but like when they start to question my capabilities? And talk about me when I’m serving their food as if I’m not there?” You sniffled as the memory of the dad of the family made a passing comment to his kids how if you don’t have any aspirations in life, you’ll end up like her replayed over and over.

“Hey,” Shawn curled an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close to his side, “Some people are jerks, it sucks, but you’re a better person than they are,” his hands started to rub up and down your arm in a comforting manner, “Because it would never even cross your mind to disrespect someone right in front of you, and that says a lot about your character.”

You took a chance and leaned your head on his shoulder, “I think everyone should have to wait tables at some point in their life,” you sniffled out a laugh.

“That,” Shawn agreed with you, “or work in retail.”

You let out another laugh in agreement and the two of you stayed snuggled up next to each other.  Shawn continued to rub a comforting hand along your arm, pulling you closer into his side, and it was almost as if your head fit into his shoulder like a puzzle piece.  Shawn knocked your knees together which caused you to let out a giggle and a small smile.

“What time are you done?” He questioned.

You scrunched up your eyebrows and bit the inside of your cheek, thinking about his question, “Around eleven or eleven thirty? Depending what time the last table leaves and we have everything stocked up for the morning shift,” you lifted your head off his shoulder, already missing the close contact with him, looking into his eyes, “Why?”

He wore mischievous smirk, “Do you want a loaf of bread?”

“What?”

Shawn leaned his head back as he laughed at your confused face; eyebrows tightly pulled together with your eyes slightly widened.  He squeezed your shoulder tight, “I uh––I get a free loaf every shift, and I––Do you want it?”

“You don’t want it?” You questioned him, not knowing why any twenty-something year old would pass up the opportunity of free food, “You don’t have like a family to feed or anything?”

He shook his head, a long curl falling covered in flour fell out of place and dropped in front of his forehead, “I’m twenty-one, so I don’t have a family––or anyone––to share a loaf of bread with.”

He tacked on that he didn’t have anyone in a rushed tone, almost scared that if he didn’t get that part in, you would assume that there was someone else he would rather share his bread with.

“What bread did you just make?” If he was offering up his shift loaf of bread, you desperately wanted it to be the sweet herbal bread you had the pleasure of smelling all through out the night.

Shawn nodded his head with a smile, “Focaccia,” he said it as if he was reminiscing his favorite memory, “I’ll have a loaf of that out at eleven thirty.”

Before you could say anything else, your phone alarm rang, notifying you that you had to get back to work.  You let out a soft groan and rested your head back on Shawn’s shoulder, eyes closed, “I don’t wanna go baaack.”

“C’mon working girl,” he squeezed your shoulder one last time before pushing off the curb and reaching a hand out to you, “The sooner you’re back at work the sooner you can get your bread.”

You reached out and took his hand; it felt different than when you first connected hands in a handshake when you first met.  His fingers curled around your hand with care, his calloused hands from kneading dough were surprisingly comforting, and they were warm.

“I expect to be given nothing less than the absolute best loaf.” You held onto his hand for a bit longer before dropping it and walking over to your side of the alley.

Shawn let out a hearty laugh, “They’re all the best loaf,” he shot you a wink, “because I bake them all.”

You felt a blush creeping up on your cheeks, but decided not to face Shawn; you didn’t want him to know the affect he had on you at only your second conversation.  You shouted a see you later tonight over your shoulder and walked back into work with not so much of a fake smile, an actual pep in your step, and a little bit of flour on your uniform shirt.

When your shift was over, you raced back down to the alley way, quickly saying your goodbyes to the kitchen staff, busboys, and fellow waiters.  You were out the back door in no time and were met with the sight of Shawn holding, what you assumed to be the focaccia bread, wrapped in brown paper tied together with twine.

He handed the loaf of bread to you as the two of you made small conversation, him offering to walk you to your car.  Wanting to spend as much time with him, you accepted his offer, as he asked you questions about your day.  Unfortunately the walk to your car wasn’t very far, so the conversation was cut short, but Shawn promised to have another loaf of bread for you tomorrow night.

Once you were in your car and saw Shawn walking in the direction from where you had just come from––I swear my car is parked around yours, let me walk you, it’s no big deal––you rolled your eyes at his blatant lie and placed the bread in your passenger seat.  But what you hadn’t noticed before was a little message written on the brown paper with black sharpie.

Let’s get this bread! Haha, but really, I made this loaf extra special just for you :)

•••

Every other night you had worked for the next few weeks ended in the alley way with Shawn delivering you a loaf of bread and walking you to your car at night.  You had come back to your apartment with loaves of rye, ciabatta, baguettes, and even a Portuguese sweet bread.  With every loaf of bread you brought home, your roommate raised an eyebrow, her interest peaking with your new fascination for carbohydrates.

It was your day off, and while you normally spent it lounging about or going for a walk, you decided to pay a visit to Shawn at The Optimist.  While you normally would avoid the area where you work on your days off, you found yourself excited to be there for once. 

You parked your car in front of the bakery and flipped down the mirror to make sure you had nothing in your teeth before walking in.  Once you were out of your car and locked the doors, you threw your keys into your canvas tote bag and walked toward the navy blue front doors.

With each step, your heart rate began to increase.  You told yourself to calm down, that it was only Shawn, but for some reason that only made you even more nervous.  Nervous, but excited to see him.

A little bell chimed when you walked in and a voice as sweet as the pastry selection smelled, greeted you, “Welcome to The Optimist!”  She looked to be about seventeen; her uniform had her name stitched in cursive on the left side of her black collared shirt, Amelia, “What can I get started for you?”

“Is uh––Is Shawn here?” It didn’t hit you until you were up at the counter that Shawn might also have the day off.

She seemed skeptical to give you any information about an employee, which was fair, working as a waitress you’ve had people come and ask if a specific person was working.  And it was company policy to not give that information out.

You didn’t know if it helped your case, but you started explaining how you knew him, “I work at the restaurant behind you guys and I’ve struck up a friendship with him and I wanted to see if he was at work–––“

“Oh,” Amelia’s eyes widened as a smile blew up on her face, “You’re the girl he brings bread to.”

You felt your cheeks get hot, “Uh…Yeah, it’s nice that he––“

“He’s so sweet!” Amelia gushed as she rested her elbows on the glass counter top and folded her hands together to rest her chin on top of them, daydreaming off into the distance, “He stays so late to buy you a loaf of bread and give it you.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t really have to––Wait,” You tilted your head, “He stays late?”

Amelia nodded her head, “Way late.  Like sometimes I wonder if he just doesn’t want to go back to where he lives––But his roommate has come in every now and then and he seems really nice so––“

“What time do you guys close?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Eight or nine?  Our store front closes at eight but then we have to clean and that usually takes us until around nine––“

“Is he here?”

“Shawn?” Amelia asked as if he hadn’t been your topic of discussion.  You nodded your head slowly, “Yeah, he’s just in the back.  I’ll go grab him!”  

Amelia skipped away and called out Shawn’s name in a sing-song voice, “You have a visitor!” 

You were only waiting at the counter for a few minutes before Shawn and Amelia came out from a back room.  You instantly smiled when you saw flour dusting on the tips of Shawn’s curls.

“Y/n, hi––Wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

You picked at a loose piece of skin by your thumb, second guessing yourself if this was actually a good idea, “Yeah, it’s my day off and uh––I didn’t really have anything to do.”

Shawn let out a chuckle, “No, no…I’m glad you’re here,” his smile was infectious. He brought his hands around his back to untie his apron, “I’m gonna take like a ten minute break, is that alright, Amelia?”

He ducked his head to lift the strap of the apron above his head and hung it on a hook by the door the two of them had just come from.  Amelia started to ramble again, nervous that Shawn was going to go off far, but he quickly reassured the teenager that he was only going to be sitting at one of the little tables in the bakery.

Amelia seemed calmer and Shawn grabbed two paper cups, filled them with black drip coffee, and rounded the counter to you.  He handed you one of the cups of coffee as you followed him to one of the small circle tables in a little alcove that granted you some privacy.

It was the first time you and Shawn were hanging out not in the alley way and while it was nice to see him not in the middle of the night, it felt a bit out of place.  But you enjoyed the way the sun shinned through the windows and hit his face on all the right angles.  You even noticed a little scar on his cheek.

“Amelia likes to…Talk,” Shawn started off, “But she’s really sweet, real nice girl.”

You nodded your head and let out a laugh.  Her liking to talk was the understatement of the century, “She seems nice,” you took a sip of coffee, “But she also let me in on some details.”

“Did she?” Shawn smirked as he leaned back on his chair, setting his cup of coffee down on the white table.  When he crossed his arms over his chest, you looked down briefly to see how large his biceps really were; it seemed as if his white shirt was constricting his flexed muscles.  He seemed almost too muscular to be a baker.

You rolled your eyes at his nonchalance, “Yeah, like how you stay late?” Shawn’s smirk dropped, “And how you pay for the loaf of bread?” You waited to see if he would interject and say how she was lying, but he stayed quiet, “Why?”

Shawn shrugged as he avoided your gaze and looked out the window, “Dunno.”  You brought your foot up to his shin and gave it a small tap, edging him to say something else, “You seemed so…sad that first night and I wish I did something more so when I saw you the second time, the only thing I could offer you was a loaf of bread.”

Your heart melted at him expressing his want to cheer you up.  But little did he know, he offered you more than a loaf of bread that night.  He offered you an ear to listen to, then the next time he offered his shoulder, and now he offered you a friendship.  The loaf of bread was nice, but the non-physical possessions Shawn offered meant more to you than fancy bread.

“But staying nearly three hours or more after your shift has ended?” You picked at the top lip of your coffee cup, the white paper spiraling a little, “You could’ve been asleep, Lord knows how exhausted you must feel after working.”

You were waiting for another answer from him and you weren’t going to talk until he offered something––other than a loaf of bread––up.  He finally shrugged and reconnected his eyes with yours, “I like seeing you.”

It felt as if the sweet smells of the bakery infiltrated your body.  You felt warm, like hot bread that was just pulled straight out from the oven.  You felt comfort, like how the smell of sourdough bread reminded you of your childhood.  And you felt something else; not quite love, but more of an adoration for the baker sitting across from you.

“You could’ve just said that,” You said as Shawn twirled his foot around yours under the table.  A sheepish smile made its way onto your face, “I like seeing you too.”

Shawn’s smile shined brighter than the sun through the window, “That’s…Cool.”

You bit your bottom lip, trying your hardest to conceal the laugh that wanted to escape, but you also wanted to hide your growing smile.  All you seemed to do was smile around him.

“How about…” Shawn started speaking but his words trailed off as he looked at you.  His smile brightened when he saw your rosy cheeks, “How about I make dinner for you? I’m no chef, but I can cook a mean pasta.”

You let out a fake gasp of surprise,  “You mean you’re not a cook?!”

Shawn tsked himself, “Just a baker, sweetheart.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach; sweetheart.  You wouldn’t mind if he called you that a million more times.

“But this time,” you gave him a pointed look, “I’m buying the bread.”

[lonelyreputation]

C’est Toi (coffee shop au) • PROLOGUE, wc: 1.4k

Wednesday - January 02, 2019 - 18:31

There’s a lot of people watching at an airport.  The thought always crosses my mind––who is returning from a trip?  Did they enjoy it?  Or are they dreading returning home?Who just left the comfort of their own home? Are they sad?  Elated?  Well, I guess that’s more than just one thought.  I still have an hour until my flight.  Why is it required to be at the airport hours before an international flight?  Just another thought to tack on.

“Oh, sweetie,” McLane’s mother wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter, “I cannot believe you’re off for another semester!”

McLane let out a breathy laugh, squeezing her eyes as tight as her mother’s hug as to not let any tears spill over, “Yeah,” it was a weak response, McLane knew it, but she didn’t want to cry during her send off, she promised herself she wouldn’t cry, “another.”

Easing her way out of the hug, McLane’s mom held her daughter away at arms length, with her hands softly rubbing her shoulders, “London, oh goodness, how’d you manage to convince us on that, Mick?”

Shrugging her shoulders, McLane abandoned her mother’s soft gaze to stare at her suitcase.  One large suitcase to stowaway under the plane, one carry on for the overhead bin, and her back pack.  McLane’s stare soon hardened into a glare at her luggage––she swore they were mocking her and that they knew she was forgetting something.

“Yeah, Mick,” William, McLane’s twin brother raised an eyebrow, “How’d the golden girl manage to escape for a semester?”

McLane let out a genuine laugh as her mother whipped her head to the side and glared at her son as their father lovingly hit him on the back side of the head.  William gave his father a side-eye and rubbed the back of his head.  He rolled his eyes, stood up straight, and opened both of his arms wide, “Gonna miss my golden girl.”

It was a curious thing––William and McLane––while they were twins, they looked nothing like siblings.  William stood at six feet tall, while McLane was five foot and three inches.  William inherited his mother’s blonde curly hair and green eyes, and McLane had her father’s pin straight brunette hair and blue eyes.  Physically they didn’t look like each other, but they were almost identical in personality.

Once McLane felt her mother’s hands drop from her shoulder, she barreled into her brother’s open arms.  She clutched to the back of his red Maryland flag t-shirt as he soothingly ran his hands along her back.  She took in a shaky breath as her brother’s fingers continued to ghost over her back.  

How was she going to survive a semester abroad?

She and William didn’t attend the same college, but she would road trip every spring to watch his lacrosse games at Duke, and he would road trip to see her at least once a semester at the University of Virginia.  Between their road trips seeing each other and traveling home for the holidays, they always saw each other a minimum of four times a semester.  But with a plane ticket to London being more expensive than a five hour car ride, it would be a different semester for both of them.

“You should probably check your bag then get in line for security,” McLane turned her head to the side to see her father looking down at his watch, “Wouldn’t want you to miss your flight.”

At the mention of her departure, McLane’s fist tightened around her brother’s shirt and she buried her head back into his chest.  William tightened his hold on his sister.  He knew his sister better than anyone else, and he knew just how bad she wanted to study abroad.  Ever since she was thirteen, he vividly remembered their summers when they shared a room at their grandmother’s beach house in Ocean City, Maryland and how she would stay up for hours talking his ear off about studying abroad.

William kissed the top of her head and whispered, “This is all you’ve ever wanted––it’s literally just hours away now.”

McLane nodded and once she got her breathing under control, she let go of her brother’s shirt and quickly wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm.  She took four deep breaths before speaking, “I––I’ll just miss you so much,” She sniffled, “You know how I am with goodbyes.”

William smiled down at his sister and patter her head.  She narrowed her eyes at him.

“We’ll be here when you get back, idiot.”

“William.”

William turned to his chastising mother as he held his hands up in surrender, chuckling, “It’s a term of endearment.”

“No name calling,” Their mother glared at him before bringing her fingers up to her temple to rub them, “I swear you’re the reason why Daisy back talks so often.”

McLane snorted, “She’s fifteen, she’s at the worst age.”

“Lucky you for escaping.”

The twins shared a beaming smile with each other before turning to their mother with the same shit-eating grin. The one that always got them out of trouble.  She looked at her kids with a hard stare, but traded in her faux hardness for a tender gaze, “I miss you both so much when you go away.”

“I’ll still be around to bother you.” 

“William’s very good at that,” McLane nodded her head with a tone that said she wasn’t messing around, but playful enough to earn her a forehead flick from her twin.

“Hey––“

“Mick,” It was their father who interrupted before any of their shenanigans started.  He held up her book bag in one hand with a solemn look on his face, “It’s time.”

It was like the past few minutes of playing around with her brother evaporated.  Her throat went dry, palms sweaty, and she felt the familiar prickle behind her eyes start back up.

Turning away from her brother, McLane took a few steps toward her dad, took her backpack from him and gave him a hug.  It was a quick hug––their father wasn’t much of a touchy feely sort of guy with his emotions––but she knew she was loved.  He kissed her head before taking her larger suitcase and rolling it towards her, “I’ll help you check your bag.”  That was his way of saying everything will be alright.  She nodded her head.

She wished checking her bag took longer.  She wanted to prolong her family time for as much as she could––five months she would be without them––five months too long.

When McLane and her father reached back to where William and her mother stood, she gripped the strap of her backpack and took her carryon suitcase from her mother.  She swallowed down a cry, “I––I’lll––See you later?”

McLane looked at everyones expression.  Her mother’s eyes were rimmed in redness as she gave a tight-lipped quivering smile, her father sent her a nod and a soft smile, and William was beaming ear to ear.  She returned his grin and took her passport out from her sweatshirt pocket, flipping the book between her fingers, and with one final smile––a genuine smile––she spun around and headed for the security line.

“Hey, Mick!”

McLane stopped right before the black barrier and scrunched up her eyebrows at her brother’s voice.  His hands were cupped around his mouth––very unnecessary, she thought, because she wasn’t that far away from him.

“You won’t want to come home by the time you’re finished!”

With a roll of her eyes she shook her head.  There would be nothing that would make her not want to come back to her family.  They were her everything.  Sure––William could be a nuisance, her mother could nag her to death, her father brought up post-graduate plans every chance he got, and Daisy was at the God awful stage where everything revolved around her as the world simultaneously hated her––but she wouldn’t trade them in for the world.

So as she handed her ticket and passport to the TSA officer, put her luggage on the conveyor belt, took her shoes off, and walked through the metal detector, she looked back one last time.  Her father cradled her mother into his side as she sobbed into his shoulder and William looked at her with a smirk and a glimmer in his eyes that spoke volumes of him being certain she wouldn’t want to return home.

She rolled her eyes and flipped him off.

a/n: Coffee shop AU! Coffee shop AU!!!! Woot! I’ve been working/planning this for quite sometime! Exciting stuff coming in the future!! 

And while Shawn isn’t ~in this chapter, he WILL be in the next chapter!! This is just some background so you get the gist of McLane! Let me know what you thought of this / what you think is gonna happen in the future! Whoop whoop!  

I’m still also filling out requests so keep your eyes peeled for a baker!Shawn AU, unrequited love piece, and a jealous!Shawn 👀

[lonelyreputation]

Writing Update!!

Happy Thursday!! After waking up from a refreshing nap, making myself some tea, and going through all the prompts that have been requested I’ve made myself a little set up at my desk to write!! 

There’s 12 requests––woot!––and I have ideas for all of them! And with getting off work early today, no work tomorrow, and continuing to quarantine at my apartment for the weekend I’ve found a new sense of motivation to write! So here we go!!

Get ready for some fluff, angst (!!), unrequited love, baker!Shawn, Stylist!ReaderxShawn, beach!Shawn, maybe some smut 👀, and a whole lot more!!