#A fresh start (4) - Three men and a baker

[holylulusworld]

A fresh start (4) - Three men and a baker

Summary: The world is safe. Thanos is gone. What now?

Pairing: Post-Endgame!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, plus-sized reader, virgin reader, virgin Steve Rogers, fluff, falling in love

A/N: Please consider I don’t care about the timeline of Endgame. 

Written for my 16.666 followers celebration. Requested by @elle14-blog1​

A fresh start (3) - Where to Captain?

A fresh start masterlist

16.666 followers ‘16 days of requests’ celebration

Time passed so fast.

One night Steve told you about their plan to bring all the people the world lost in the blip back, and the next thing you remember is that he came to you to say goodbye before the final battle.

You spent your days worrying about Steve, his friends, and the fate of the world. What if Thanos did something even more horrible if he found out what Captain America and the remaining Avengers tried to do?

You had faith in Steve and his friends. Still, you were scared of losing Steve forever. Just like you lost your granny.

The world was a different place, and you could only hope that whatever happened after Steve and his friends defeated Thanos would make it a better place for everyone.

You barely slept, and only dragged yourself out of bed to support the support group. It was important for you to help them cope while Steve tried to bring their loved ones back.

One day, when you opened your granny’s bakery three men stepped inside. Steve Rogers was one of them. He smiled and wrapped his arms around you.

“Steve,” you sniffled. “You’re back.” You held tight onto Steve for dear life. It felt too good having him back with you. “I feared the worst. I thought I lost you forever.”

Steve pecked your forehead, cheek, and lastly your lips.

“Whoa, Cap,” Sam chuckled as you and Steve were all over each other. “Take it slow. We are still here with you.”

“Steve, don’t you want to introduce us to the pretty dame?” Bucky poked his friend’s back. “We are here to get to know her.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve reluctantly let go of you. He looked you all over before introducing you to his friends. “Doll, that’s Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes.”

You gasped. “Your friends are back! You made it.” You wrapped Sam in a hug, sniffling as he was back. “Welcome back Sam.” You turned your attention toward Bucky. He huffed, but let you hug him too. “Bucky! Steve told me so much about you and Sam. His best friends.”

“Uh-it’s nice to meet you,” Bucky said. “Steve, I can’t believe you hid a pretty dame like Y/N from us for so long.”

“To be fair, you weren’t around when I met Y/N—” Steve dropped his gaze, suddenly aware of what he just said. “Sorry. That was…”

“Hey, we were only dust in the wind,” Sam joked while Bucky grumbled under his breath. “You brought us back, though.”

“He never gave up on you,” you hastily said. “Steve missed his friends so much and tried to find a way to defeat Thanos. And he did.” You wrapped Steve in a hug again. “I knew he’d make it. He’s my hero.”

Bucky and Sam shared a knowing look. “So…this is your bakery?” Sam said to break the awkward moment. “It’s very nice.”

“It was my granny’s bakery,” you explained. “She left it to me. Granny passed away shortly before the blip.”

“It smells great,” Bucky craned his neck to glance at the freshly baked pie on the counter. “It smells like plums.”

“Do you want a slice, Bucky?” You grabbed Bucky’s hand. “Sorry, is it okay that I call you Bucky?”

“Sure, doll,” you giggled when Bucky brought your hand to his lips to press a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

“Buck,” Steve stepped closer to you. He possessively wrapped his arm around your shoulders and gave his friend a stern look. “How about we all have a slice of pie to celebrate our reunion.”

“Aw, he doesn’t like sharing,” Sam teased. He watched you lean into Steve’s touch. “I get it, man. She’s special.”

“Your girl is nice,” Bucky watched his friend check on his phone. “Y/N said you met at the support group meeting. How long is this going on between you two?”

“She’s…I mean…she took my breath away the moment I first laid my eyes on her,” Steve nervously shifted on his feet. “I like…no, I love her. She’s the one, Buck. I just don’t know if I’m the man she wants.”

Sam huffs. “Steve, she’s completely and hopelessly in love with you. Y/N didn’t even spare us a glance. She’s not impolite, that’s a fact. Y/N simply was distracted by your presence.”

“What he said.” Bucky nodded in agreement. “What’s the problem? You love her. She loves you. A perfect match.”

Steve's cheeks turned pink. He huffed and dropped his eyes to the ground, staring at his shoes. 

“She’s perfect and I love her. Y/N is the one but,” he sighed deeply. “How can I tell her that I never was with a woman before?”

“Wait—what?” Sam looked at Bucky, furrowing his brows. “But man, you’re tall and all. Women should be all over you. How can you never…I mean…”

“Stevie waited for the right girl,” Bucky placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Right? You didn’t want your first time to be meaningless.”

“Something like that,” Steve murmured. “After I crashed into the ice and lost the chance to dance with Peggy, I have never met a woman making me feel the way Peggy made me feel. Y/N is different. She’s the one and I don’t want to disappoint her.”

Sam nodded and thought about a way to help his friend. He was honored that Steve felt comfortable enough around him to talk about such a sensitive topic.

“I need your help,” Steve suddenly said. “I want to make Y/N happy in any way. This includes physical love too.”

Bucky grinned. “Stevie, we’ve got this.” He looked at Sam. “Right? We are going to tell Steve how to make his pretty doll happy.”

“Do you think she’s ready to take the next step, Steve?” Sam asked. “You should both be on the same side.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t want to hurry things with Y/N. All I want is to be ready to give her pleasure if she wants me to. I want her to feel safe and loved when she’s with me. I would never do anything she doesn’t want.”

“Relax, Steve,” Sam patted Steve’s shoulder. “We will help you. Y/N is special and I’m glad you found someone like her in your darkest hour…”

Part 5

Tags in reblog.

[maryslouisv]

to speak or to die

part three: i know nothing, remus

part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5

ao3 - wattpad

“I know nothing, Remus.” 

“You seem to know everything.”

I was taken aback. I couldn’t tell if he meant to be rude or not. I never could. I knew I had a tendency to be a know-it-all, especially when I was being pressed. I decided to assume he was being kind. 

“I don’t know about anything that matters.”

“What matters, then?”

“You know.”

Remus didn’t know. Neither did I. I can’t say I ever will, maybe he figured it out on how own. Small things mattered too much back then, and now the big things don’t matter nearly enough. 

-

From that day forward, things changed. I was much warmer to Remus, he seemed to care. I enjoyed my time with him much more than I had before, I wondered if maybe I pretended to hate him for so long because he was too interesting. Because he never spoke of himself. Because he aspired to do great things and had his life figured out at such a young age. 

We did everything together. I stayed in town longer so that I could help him with his play, I read and edited his scenes as they were written. I bought him breakfast and watched him clean his cane. He let me help him retwist his dreadlocks, even though I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. I’m pretty sure he stayed up late that night and fixed my mistakes. 

One day, Lily and Marlene came over with a few other kids our age for a game of volleyball. Remus sat out, needing his cane worse than usual, but he watched us all play. He cheered for Marlene, Lily, and me. We won with everything we had, and Matilda made everyone fresh lemonade around midday. 

That evening, I saw Marlene and Remus by the pool late into the night. The moon was full above their heads and I could see that they were laughing up a storm. They both looked beautiful, illuminated by the moonlight. 

“Hey, Moony,” I said to him the next morning. He laughed and was surprised. No one had called him that before. His eyes sparkled like stars when I explained that he almost looked like part of the moon that night. 

On our walk to town, we talked about the volleyball games; the other kids who had played with us. Out of curiosity, I said to him, “Marlene’s very pretty, don’t you think?”

Remus nodded for a moment, “Yes, she is. She’s fun to talk to. What about Lily, hm?”

I started to laugh a little. “She’s pretty too. I love her paintings.”

“She’s just pretty?”

“Marlene is just fun to talk to?”

I didn’t like the feeling in my gut. Almost a form of jealousy. I’d always been a jealous person, but this was just Remus. A guest for the summer. I had nothing to be jealous of. I wasn’t even sure that Marlene had any romantic interest in men. 

“Well, she's smart. She’s determined. She’s a lot like you. But you can’t tell me there isn’t something between you and Lily.”

“Lily is just a friend to me.”

“She looks hurt every time you dismiss her. You’re not just a friend to her.”

I dismissed him. Maybe what he said was true, but I didn’t believe it. I moved on, but that thought stayed in the back of my mind.

He tried to bicker with me further but was quickly shut down as we entered our favorite bakery. 

“Good morning, boys,” the kinda lady said with a thick Scottish accent, “usually pastries today?”

“Can I just add a chocolate chip cookie?” Remus asked sweetly before we handed her the money. We always split the cost, unless my dad paid. 

“Remus likes cookies?” I asked, somewhat rhetorically, while we waited for our order.

“I do, but the cookie is for Victoria,” he said, putting an extra few dollars into the baker’s tip jar. “I told her we come here most mornings, she said she loves the cookies here.”

I smiled. I really did love that Victoria had a friend. Marls and I let her tag around often, but all three of us knew it wasn’t the same. I loved Victoria and Marlene like they were my sisters. 

We spent the rest of the day in the shed with Lily and Marlene. Like it was yesterday, I remember Marlene’s shaggy hair in a messy bun at the back of her head. She smiled so brightly when she saw that Remus had bought a cookie for her sister. Marlene always appreciated little things like that. We worked on our respective projects and laughed like old friends. The way it should’ve been. 

We swam that night, and Marlene and Remus ran off to the beach while Lily and I stayed by the patio. 

“They’re getting along nicely.”

My stomach turned. I’m glad I’m not the only one who saw that. The familiar jealously panged in my stomach. 

“I suppose.” I deadpanned. I wasn’t sure where she was going with that. 

“Are you jealous?” she asked. Her tone was similar to mine. 

“Are you?”

Lily and I both started to laugh. “Yes, of course, I am.”

“Of Remus?”

She laughed again, “Gods, no. James, how could you be so oblivious? You’re nineteen and still haven’t grown out of your mindless, childish, brain.”

“Marlene, then?” I knew Marlene had a few girlfriends, but not Lily. 

“Why do you think I spend so much time with you guys every summer?”

“Oh.”

We talked about it. I couldn’t help but what Remus had said just earlier that day. I didn’t say anything to her. I didn’t want her to think I believed him. I knew better. The girl I had been friends with every summer, and some Christmases, since I was eleven years old, was in love with my best friend. And I had no idea. I’ve always been clueless, even now. 

“You should tell her,” I said. Lily’s eyes zeroed in on me like it was a definite no. “Marlene doesn’t talk about her feelings the way I do. The only way you’ll ever know if those feelings are reciprocated, is by being honest with her. If we don’t tell people how we feel, how will they know?”

“You should listen to your own advice, James.”

She stood up, and she left. 

Two days later, I walked into the shed to find Marlene and Lily with paint all over themselves. Lily was kissing Marlene on the cheek, and Marl’s face was squished into it. They were happy. They both froze when they noticed me; then we all laughed. I was happy because Marlene was happy. 

 It was rare to see Marlene smile as much as she had during these few weeks. I like to think I made her happy, but with Victoria’s condition, it was hard for her to focus on those days. On what may have really mattered. Lily definitely helped with that. 

“Did you listen to your advice?” Lily asked me after she washed up. Marlene gave us both a confused look, and I gave her one that told her, I’ll fill you in later. She understood as best friends do. 

“I haven’t,” I said, and Lily just gave me a look. One that burned into my eyelids like a tattoo. It motivates me now. 

However, I planned to just ignore her. I was still in a state of denial when it came to my feelings for Remus. Even though I soaked in his scent every time I could. I used his body wash when I showered, and smoked his cigarettes from the red box, instead of mine from the blue. I knew better than to lie than to deny it. I just have always hated rejection.

I wanted to ignore Lily, and I did at first. I made it three days, going without saying anything to Remus. We hardly talked at all. I don’t know why he seemed to avoid me. He woke up much earlier than me, and he did our routine alone. I was frustrated. I wanted him. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Our summer was coming close to an end. I was just glad my jealous churns were gone. 

“I wish we had more time,” I told him one evening. He finally came around, because I bought him and victoria cookies and had Matilda make him his favorite peachy drink. We were smoking on our balcony, almost dead silent. He was going to Milan in a little more than a week and then taking a train back to bristol. He’d be in Milan, by himself, I’d assumed, for a week. He should’ve been in our villa. In my bed, with me. I wish that was how it had been all summer, maybe we would’ve had more time. 

“More time for what?” he laughed, almost stumbling on his cane. “We’ve had an amazing summer, don’t you think?” I suppose he wasn’t wrong. 

“I don’t know, moony. I just feel like everyone our age has their lives figured out.”

We both knew what I was really talking about. I know that now. 

“Like who?” he scoffed. 

“You do. You’ve told Marlene and me so many things you want to do with your life. My friends from home: Sirius, Regulus, and Peter. They all have something or someone. Pandora and Dorcas, they’ve got each other. They have their plans. And they’re the most eccentric, impulsive people I know. But I’m just here, falling for a boy I’m never going to see after next week.”

Remus walked away before I realized what I had said. When the statement registered, I felt like I lost my mind. I went back inside, too. And I waited. 

I didn’t sleep that night. I heard him shuffle in the bathroom, his cane hitting the tile floor. When the sun began to rise, I heard him push something under my bathroom door. I waited until I heard the other door shut. 

It was a small note, 

Let’s talk. We have a lot to go over. Get the bikes!!!

Moony 

I opened the door and found a smoothie on the bathroom counter. Just like the first week. Maybe I hadn’t ruined everything. Not right then anyway. 

We rode our bikes into town, for the first time since his first week. He didn’t talk until we found the bakery. 

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” he said. He sounded really mature and grown. I liked this Remus, but it also scared me. 

“I’m sorry. About what I said. You know, it was really just- I wasn’t thinking right. I couldn’t sleep-“

“Aw, James couldn’t sleep because of me.”

“Stop, please,” I felt my cheeks warming up, like they always did, just from the way he spoke to me. “You want to talk. So I’m going to talk first. I get it, you don’t feel the same way. There wasn’t even a point in bringing me here, just to let me down easily. Bring me to our favorite spot so that you can reject me and make it so that I can never come to this bakery again. Hell, I’ll never be able to come here without thinking of you again, this village. Our villa. I can't go to my bedroom, the one you sleep in, without thinking of you. In just a few short weeks, my heart has become full of you. I’ve spent it all thinking I hated you, wasted all our time. I never hated you. I could never hate you. You’re too much for me to hate. Victoria loves you, Marlene loves you, Lily loves you. I think I love you too.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What? Moony, that’s not-“

“Call me Moony again and I will kiss you.”

“Moony,” I was stammering. Blubbering. He clearly didn’t care. 

He kissed me. The beach was behind us, we were sitting at our favorite place in town. Every star aligned, even if only for that moment. My heart had never, will never be that full. That warmth encapsulated me, I felt like the sun. 

By the time we let go, we were both breathless. He put his hands on the back of my head, past my bandana, and mine were at the nape of his neck, tugging at his dreads. We went back for more, but before we touched again, the baker came and unlocked her door. 

“Boys, please.”

“Sorry, Minnie,” Remus and I said, breathless and giggly.

“How have you not seen the signs?” he asked me that night. 

“What signs?” I was frantic. We were laughing about how much time we’d wasted, how we’d make it up in the spring. 

“God, you’re oblivious.”

“One of my many talents. Seriously, though, what signs?”

“The drinks. Asking you questions and walking with you even when I knew you were annoyed with me. I told you I loved talking to your best friend and then said you two were alike. Everything. I’ve wanted you since the day you showed me everything.”

“You knew I was annoyed? Why did you keep up then?”

“I knew you’d warm up eventually. That’s who you are.”

I guess I was predictable. Marlene told me that several times too. Predictable, oblivious, and too kind. 

We’d sat on that patio for hours. It was the most fun I’d had with anyone that wasn’t Marlene or our group from home. We’d split his brand new pack of cigarettes, and there were only two left by morning. 

He asked me about Lily and Marlene. He apologized to me for assuming Lily and I were something more, then laughed when I told him he was thinking of the wrong friend. We kissed that night. More times than I could count. He touched me more than he had any other time prior. Brisk, feathery touches, every chance he could get. I’m sure my parents noticed, the way my face got hot every time. I would’ve had a trail of his touches tattooed if I could. 

“I love you too, I think,” Remus whispered in my ear. We were dancing in the kitchen with his favorite record playing before Matilda came to work for the day. 

“That’s not fair, we only have two more days, moony.”

“Then we’ll be quiet. Know that it’s there, and it’s lingering.” He planted a kiss on the top of my head and we danced until the song was over. 

When Matilda came home, we scurried away and two my (his) room. We giggled all the way up the stairs and shut the door as quietly as possible. When I turned around, my back was against the door. Remus came back up to me and kissed me again. It was sweet but determined. His hands were firm at my waist and mine were feeling under his big sweater. How he wore a sweater in the midst of August, I don’t know, but I loved the way he looked in it. 

We kissed until the sun was rising and Matilda was knocking on his door. 

“Remus, dear?” she asked, “Victoria is here.”

“Shit,” he said, jumping up to change into new clothes. Ones he wasn’t wearing the day before. He kissed me one more time, “I’ll be back. Let’s have a picnic this afternoon. Just us.” 

I nodded and went up to the other room. He waved and walked out. I saw him and Victoria walk to the beach and sit there, watching the sunrise. His cane stayed in his lap every time he sat down, just like her bandanas always matched her outfits.

That afternoon, Remus found me wearing a muscle tee, one that showed the sides of my torso, with my khakis. I was in the kitchen, making sandwiches, even after matilda’s countless remarks against me cooking or using the kitchen when she wasn’t around.   

We were supposed to have more time. 

So we made the best of what we had. 

Stolen glances, hidden kisses, getting ice cream hand-in-hand with the girls. We helped my mother in her garden together, smearing dirt on each other’s noses. Took photos with Marlene’s polaroid camera and my dad’s film. 

The night before Remus was meant to leave for Milan, my mum and dad stopped me in the living room. 

“Since we’re paying for a lot of Remus’ expenses next week,” my mum started, “We were thinking you could go with him. It would be nice for you to have some time alone with him.”

“What?” I asked, probably not as confident as I remember. 

“He has a book party, and there’s a beautiful art museum out there we think you would love,” my dad said, “We’ll give you some money for food and the train ride back home. An extra week for you and your friend.”

Friend. 

“Sure, okay. Have you talked to Moons about this?”

“It was his idea.” 

I went upstairs and I packed. I’d never been to Milan, other than to pass through. I hoped we would have time for everything we wanted to do. It would be nice to roam around with Remus for a little while. Marlene came by and helped me pack. This was the first time we’d been alone since Lily’s great confession.

“You seem happy,” she said. Her blonde (and now also blue) bangs were overgrown and she blew them away from her eyes as she lit a cigarette. 

“I am. I like him a lot, sucks it’ll be over so soon, though.” Maybe I always knew.

“You’ll keep in touch though, right?”

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “But it’ll never be the same. Even if we grow old together, it’ll never be like our first summer.”

“At least you’ll always have summer. Have you talked to our friends back home?”

I hadn’t. Not since June, before Remus arrived. They hadn’t called, they hardly ever do. 

“I’ve written once or twice, but you know how Sirius and Regulus’ parents are. And Peter hardly responds. I haven’t reached out to anyone else. Have you?”

“No, not really. I called Dorcas the first week, but haven’t spoken to anyone else really. I hope they’re alright.”

“I’m sure they’re fine.”

The next morning, Victoria and Remus sat on the beach for one last time. She, Marlene, and Lily all rode with us to the train station to say their goodbyes. 

And then we were off to Milan.

i do not give you or anyone else permission to translate, transfer, or copy my work in any way. this belongs to me (olive, maryslouisv). it is already posted to two other platforms, that is enough.

[dragonnan]

First Sentence Game

Saw this shared by @helloliriels and it looked incredibly fun so here's mine!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

1. The Home Visit (Doctor Strange) It smelled cold.

Not like winter – which tasted metallic and fresh at the same time, no. No, this cold had the aroma that was patently October. Black cats and scudding cloud and ripened pumpkins. It was the earthy snap of fallen leaves and the far off sound of hunter's rifles and the call of geese and ducks headed for warmer lands. For many people, Autumn was their favorite time of year. Maybe... once, when he was younger, Stephen could have said the same.

2. We Are Men of Action - Lies Do Not Become Us (Psych - a cross-post of an older fic) Cool, that morning; just on the right side of chilly, actually. Early, even for the early risers. Far too early for a guy who hadn't slept in two days. Far, far too early for that guy's father to demand they share coffee while watching the sun rise over the waves.

3. Sed Diabolus (Avengers WIP) It was a pretty great view. He'd been meaning to check it out; sometime. Those weeks spent in his (new) room; dishes of food going cold at his elbow while he'd sat at his computer and clicked through five years of history that he hadn't lived. Most of the news stories had been about the failing economy; the declaration of martial law around the country, the breakdown of infrastructure. His current roosting spot was exactly the same as it had been the day he'd… dusted. Skyline Tower had been scheduled for completion in 2020. Three years later and, like so many other construction projects, it was an abandoned property with naked I-beams stabbing towards the clouds. It would probably never be finished. Not the way things were, now.

4. The Wizard Was the Wicked Witch and the Scarecrow Lost His Courage (Psych - another cross-post of an older story) It was hot there out on the sidewalk. Getting off the plane – walking through the tunnel back to the airport he'd felt the wave of temperature thud against him, both familiar and a little bit of a let-down. Odd that his destination, so unwelcome after the past week, was a tropical getaway to most everyone else he'd traveled with. He wished he could have stayed longer. But then, he always wished it could be longer.

5. The Holiday is Over (Sherlock) He could no longer track how many days had passed, since he'd been captured and brought to this… hell hole, though he suspected it was close to a month. He'd knelt in the snow, once he'd realized there had been nowhere left to run; collapsed, really. He'd been on Moran's trail for weeks and had scarcely stopped for rest or food. It had caught up to him at the worst possible time.

6. Like Some Sort of Parable (Sherlock) The cab, carrying his best friend, along with his new fiance’, had long since been swallowed by the night. Sniffing, wincing at the pain in his nose, Sherlock tossed the bloody serviette before walking to the kerb to hail his own ride. He winced again upon raising his hand and felt the tug of the motion through his back.

7. The Fire in Which We Burn (Sherlock WIP) “I just wanted to let you know that... well, Dennis is scheduled to be released this afternoon. I didn't find out myself until twenty minutes ago. I know he was meant to be in longer but... well we both know the justice system is a joke. Listen... call me, alright? Let me know... I'm here if you need me, yeah? Christ. Just, look after yourself, Molly. I'll talk to you soon.”

8. If You Want this Choice Position Have a Cheery Disposition (Sherlock) Barred from any investigations requiring footwork, forced to once more suffer the restrictions of a sling for another three weeks, Sherlock could feel the restlessness like ants in his skin.

9. A Faun at Baker Street (Sherlock) It had all started in Dartmoor.

It had been nearly been 2am by the time they'd finished up at the field and had staggered back to the hotel. Sherlock had left hours earlier so John had offered to remain behind with Greg while they had filled in the local constabulary; a greying man a year out from retirement along with his replacement-in-training.

10. Your Loss Would Break My Heart (Sherlock) He could have taken the helicopter but, quite frankly, he had needed the drive in order to structure what he would say to them. Though, even as he pulled the sleek vehicle into the drive; gravel snapping and popping beneath the narrow tyres, he was no more prepared than he'd been when he'd left London. After turning off the engine he hung back for a beat – hands gripped around the wheel.

Tagging (no pressure): @ariaadagio @aelaer @ceruleanmindpalace @kitcat992 @hanuko @sgam76 @disappearinginq @itsjustdg as well as anyone else who'd like to participate :)

[wondernus]

12: We're on a boat!

pairing: professor!seungcheol x baker!reader sm au

chapter genre: fluff

chapter warnings: cursing, mentions of food and TONS of alcohol (it’s new year’s eve)

wc: 2.1k

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“Minghao, that was disgusting,” you grimaced at the aftertaste the alcohol left in your mouth, passing your empty shot glass back to your friend. The ten of you were crowded around Seungkwan’s car in the parking lot by the dock, pregaming before heading onto the yacht for the New Year’s celebration event. Vernon and Chan dropped some of you off earlier and immediately drove away after seeing Minghao’s usually calm aura change into a rather sinister one. The World Literature professor had somehow been able to sneak a bottle of kaoliang liquor and some shot glasses in the inner pocket of his blazer and was currently getting everybody in your group to finish the entire bottle before going in.

All of you were at least three drinks in, and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or the fact that you were surrounded by the people you loved, but you were having a great time. The boys were clumped together on the dancefloor, Seungkwan and DK having an intense dance battle while Wonwoo laughed and clapped from behind. The rest of the boys had their arms around each other and swayed to the beat of the music, singing at the top of their lungs. You and Hoshi were sitting at the bar within eye distance of the boys, both harboring a glass of iced water in your hands. Seungkwan’s motherly instincts immediately went into full effect after his drunk radar went off after seeing you and Hoshi try to leave your group a few times hand-in-hand to dance battle strangers around you. He decided to put you two in “time-out” for the next few minutes. However, when a familiar beat came on, Seungkwan and Seokmin started shouting for Hoshi to join them, the “time-out” rule completely forgotten. The man sitting beside you hesitated for a minute before turning to you with pleading eyes and a pout. You nodded for him to go, and he immediately jumped off of his barstool to run to the group, not before hugging you and shouting, “You know where to find us, right?” to which you shouted back it was pretty hard to lose the group when the three tallest men in the club belonged to your group. Soon the trio was screaming the lyrics to their favorite song while an all familiar “Go Soonyoung. Go Soonyoung. Go Soonyoung” filled the air. You sat and smiled at the rowdy group.

Unfortunately, the water wasn’t working because the longer you sat on the barstool, the drunker you got. You winced at the brightness of your phone screen and immediately regretted not setting your phone to night mode. Vernon was updating you on his pancake adventure with Chan and the baby. Your stomach growled at the sight of the stacks of pancakes, and you suddenly had an urge to buy the overpriced food they were selling above deck. Just then, someone tapped you on your shoulder, and you turned around to see a very familiar face you haven’t seen in a while.

Unfortunately, the water wasn’t working because the longer you sat on the barstool, the drunker you got. You winced at the brightness of your phone screen and immediately regretted not setting your phone to night mode. Vernon was updating you on his pancake adventure with Chan and the baby. Your stomach growled at the sight of the stacks of pancakes, and you suddenly had an urge to buy the overpriced food they were selling above deck. Just then, someone tapped you on your shoulder, and you turned around to see a very familiar face you haven’t seen in a while.

“Dr. Yoon?” you were definitely drunk. There was no way he was here. Have you manifested the image of him for so long that he would literally show up when you least expected?

“Oh yn!” he was grinning while holding two paper trays filled with fries. “You want some fries?”

It turned out Dr. Yoon, who reintroduced himself as Jeonghan, lost his friend a while back while buying fries and spent the last few minutes walking around, trying to convince the random people around him to take his extra tray of fries. It never really occurred to him that people usually wouldn’t accept food from strangers, especially at clubs, until you told him. The two of you managed to drunkenly run to one of the booths at the side and snag it immediately after it cleared up. Even more so, Jeonghan spent the last few minutes catching up with you and feeding you the greasy fries while you desperately tried to sober up - your whole upper half leaned against him like he was your life support. He repeatedly reassured you and said that he found it cute, but you only felt more embarrassed. You were never going to pregame with Minghao ever again. Kaoliang liquor was dangerous.

-----

“Dude, I can’t believe we lost yn,” Seungcheol was going to have a mental breakdown, which, by the way, was definitely not a good feeling to have when drunk. He recalled sitting you and Hoshi down at the bar and keeping an eye on you two before blacking out after Minghao and Jun returned to the group with another round of shots. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on one of the sofas on the deck of the yacht, the other boys sprawled out next to him, the cold ocean breeze cool against his skin.

“Did we miss the countdown?” Jun rubbed his eyes and shoved Hoshi’s sleeping body off of his. Wonwoo shook his head letting him know that they didn’t miss the countdown.

Woozi approached the group with a grin on his face. There was a man walking alongside him who seemed to be his acquaintance. “Guys,” Woozi addressed the group, causing the men to groan and look up at him, “This is my coworker, Joshua.”

His friend waved at the group and his eyes widened in excitement after realizing who was in front of him, “Dude, you never told me you were friends with the Twitter dilfs.”

Accepting Joshua into the group was fairly easy. He also lost his friend who came with him and spent the last half hour wandering around the yacht before he bumped into Woozi who was in line for the restroom. He reassured Seungcheol that his yn friend he was continuously calling for was going to be fine because everybody in their friend group had yn’s location and what was yn going to do? Swim? Luckily, yn texted Mingyu earlier and told him that they were fine, and Seungcheol sighed in relief. The boys quickly accepted Joshua into the group after Woozi told him to buy them all a round of shots to which Joshua replied, “Who do you think I am? The next three rounds are on me,” garnering an eruption of cheers from his new friends.

Just like that, they were back on the dancefloor ten minutes before the countdown, blackouts and hangovers completely forgotten, drunker than ever. They made a last-minute plan to ditch the dancefloor and celebrate the new year on the ship's deck after being pushed by a mob of people in all directions. They were practically a fresh and unbroken set of pool balls waiting for someone to start the match at that point. The fresh air they felt was a great complement to their sweaty skin, and it was nice to not need to shout at others while the bass from the speakers constantly reverberated in their ears. There were still a few minutes left until the countdown. Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung were still gone after previously stating that they needed to use the restroom together. In the distance, Mingyu, Jun, and Joshua, who left to take pictures, all let out a collective scream and jumped up and down in excitement.

“I can’t believe it finally happened.”

“You too? We’ve been rooting for them since the first pineapple bun.”

Before Seungcheol could turn around to look at what caused the commotion, Jihoon made a joke about daring Soonyoung to jump overboard and was immediately lectured by Wonwoo who dragged Seungcheol along with him. An announcement blared through the speakers that the countdown would start in a minute and the bakery boys yelled at the rest of the group to join them.

-----

10! Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung managed to return to the group just in time, but not without a tray of free tequila shots from the different patrons around them. Apparently, the people around them really enjoyed their company, whether it was when they were tearing it up on the dance floor or whether it was when they were joking with those waiting in the long line for the restroom. Jun looked at the shots with so much fear in his eyes while Minghao patted him on his back.

9! Jeonghan and you also spent the last hour receiving free drinks from those around you left and right.

“People must be very generous tonight,” you thought out loud.

“Yeah, I definitely haven’t been telling them that we’re newly engaged,” Jeonghan winked at you.

The both of you were standing on the deck of the superyacht, leaning against the railing. The captain dropped the yacht's anchor a while back when the yacht reached a place where one could turn back to see the twinkling lights coming from docks and piers from the ocean. The yacht gently rocked with the waves, and you were happily wrapped in Jeonghan’s arms, your drunkness a now numb and tingly sensation. The two of you were staring at the ocean and admiring how pretty the night sky was on that particular day. You didn’t see it, but he was smiling at you like you were the greatest thing in the world – like the feeling of biting into a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, the edges crispy and the center gooey, both the chocolate and dough melting into one.

8! Seokmin handed Seungcheol a shot.

7! Mingyu complained about there being no lime and salt.

6! Seungcheol heard a familiar laugh that made him forget about his surroundings for a split second.

5! Wonwoo put his arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder.

4! Jeonghan spun you around to face him.

3! Seokmin accidentally took his shot early.

2! Seungkwan quickly slipped his shot into the older boy’s hand and took the empty glass before the rest of the group took notice to what happened. It was fine. He was the designated driver after all.

1! The crowd erupted in cheers, and the group clinked their glasses and tilted their heads back to take their shots. Fireworks lit up the sky in a multitude of vibrant colors. Jun was busy yelling, “Chase with a smile. Chase with a smile,” at those who were complaining about the lack of lime and salt. Soonyoung was trying to hug Jihoon, who kept pushing him away until he finally gave in. It was a new year; he would allow it just once. Seungkwan was in the middle of recording a video of the group with his flash on which resulted in him accidentally blinding Seungcheol for a split second. This caused Seungcheol to turn away from the group to try to blink the dizziness away. When he finally recuperated, he couldn’t help but stare at the scene in front of him.

“Oh my god,” Seungcheol groaned, “I’m so glad we made the sexiling rule. They were literally sucking each other’s faces off. It was disgusting.”

Joshua raised his eyebrow at him. He also saw what happened. “Dude are you ok?” he questioned. “All they did was kiss once.”

The rest of the group quickly turned to see what Seungcheol was talking about and immediately burst into excitement when they realized who they were looking at. You broke away from Jeonghan and buried your face in his chest to hide in embarrassment when you recognized the group of voices calling your name. The man beside you jokingly covered you with his blazer to hide you when he realized you were flustered. It was a really cute and sweet sight, and it was custom to kiss someone on New Year’s. So why did seeing you kiss someone else make Seungcheol feel so annoyed?

the kids are going to be alright

synopsis: life as we know it (2010 film) au | when an unexpected accident leaves you and your blind date from five years ago to become caretakers of your mutual goddaughter, you are forced to learn how to navigate parenthood all while trying to balance work and social life.

a/n: join the taglist!

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taglist: @seokcalibur, @skylions-den, @semicolorn, @boowanie, @niikipuff, @serenadesvt, @tfmingyu, @jeonjungkaka, @shiningstar-byulxx, @onigiriyuki, @justasoftstan, @fr0gluver, @fairyjius, @happyvitamin, @noniesgirl, @hanniewife, @amymoonl, @melkwhore

unable to tag: @fairyjius, @hanniewife

[wishingicouldfly]

I've been actively blogging for more than six months, even though I've had a tumblr account for ten years. I started reading One Direction (specifically Larry) fanfiction about the same time.

Originally, I read exclusively canon compliant fiction--I was hungry for industry insider, what-could-have-happened narratives. But I've slowly branched out into other genres. I find fanfic--good fanfic--super calming. When I've had too much stunting, too much noise, I grab a fanfic and immerse myself. So I thought it was time to do a post about my favorites. Keep in mind, I'm terrible at cataloging, and I have over 150 bookmarks on my A03 Account, so this is by no means an exhaustive list.

I'm not including the classics like Tired, Tired Sea and Escapade. While I do love both of those (so well written), because a lot of people know about those already.

My all time favorites are by @helloamhere

1. The Multipicity of Powers - https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580229

Maybe in another universe he isn’t different. Maybe he hadn’t been given an impossible choice. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost everything and broken everything and then fallen impossibly, irrevocably in love with the first next thing that was kind. Maybe in that universe he doesn’t feel like he’s never breathing, always pretending, teaching the kids even though they all have to learn alone, trying hard not to read the headlines, and so afraid, every day, that he won’t be a good enough teammate to the superhero he can’t live without. He knows that love isn’t supposed to feel this way, slid secret under your skin like a surgical razor, an invisible war held close over the tender vein that keeps you alive. On the other hand, Louis wonders, had he ever known how to do it any other way?

Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside.

But this isn’t that universe.

//an X-Men AU.

Me: I never thought I'd love a super hero 1D cross over, but this is so well done. The backstory, the pacing, the characterization, the friendship. Read it.

2. Saving Symphony Hall and it's prequel Night Out - https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633921

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

Me: The best sex scene I've ever read is in the prequel Night Out. Sexy, but tender. I love the characterizations in this duo--ABO but not traditional. Doesn't feel out of character.

3. Just Let Me -https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695350

The party was going well. So well, Niall had already sworn undying love to one multi-tiered chocolate cake, two friendly corgi-poodle mixes, Zayn’s hair, and the entire population of Los Angeles. So well, Zayn had only laughed and ruffled Niall’s hair and not even twitched towards a cigarette. So well, nearly everyone had spilled far past the boundaries of the night’s original plans, extracting bottles of vodka from the cabinets and losing a lot of clothes. Harry had proclaimed that he was finally going to throw a small and very grownup dinner party and of course here they were three hours later, fifty people half-naked in the pool. Soon to be full-naked, if Louis had to guess. Everybody in LA loved a heated pool. Everybody loved Harry.

Me: I love love love this. Harry is so gentle, and Louis is so stubborn and needy. It's ABO but subtle. I'll read this one again and again. It's comforting.

@HelloAmHere is one of the best writers I know--amazing stuff. I also love their werewolf story, but it's not finished, so I won't link it here.

Other favorites:

1. Seven Up by cherrystreet - https://archiveofourown.org/works/5828539

Very loosely based on the British TV show "The Up Series" and somewhat inspired by the song “Something I Need” by Onerepublic, we follow the lives of Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson in an interview setting every seven years. They fall apart and come together, their lives and emotions recorded. Harry calls it a time capsule. Louis calls it a pain in the arse.

Me: Trigger Warning, major character death. I literally SOBBED through the end of this. It was lovely and devastating. So good. But be warned.

2. Light, Spark and Fire series by @greenfeelings

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Louis and Zayn run a music label, Liam is Britain’s up-and-coming pop star, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down until he builds his own up, and Niall holds them all together without realising he does.

Me: A nice healthy three-parter. Characters you just want to live with for a while.

3. Relief Next to Me by dolce_piccante - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117942

AU. What happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific Craigslist post? Fate, friendship, food, and maybe more.

Me: This one is super long, so be prepared when you dive in. It's got a lot of lovely bits, and some great smut.

4. 2012 'Verse by ashavahishta - https://archiveofourown.org/series/27601

Me: This is a five-parter and satisfies my love of canon compliant stories. It spans most of 2012 and into 2013, and illustrates the difficulties of Harry and Louis' relationship amid the band success and management disapproval.

5. Love After the End of the World by mercurial-madhouse (writing_practice) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31251434/chapters/77248901

Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.

When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

Me: Really unusual (as far as I can tell) end of the world story. I loved the characterizations of soul mates here at the end of the world.

6. Flightless Bird by audreyhheart - https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401653/chapters/14656807

AU where Louis Tomlinson is a principal dancer with The Royal Ballet. When his rival from ballet school, moody dance prodigy Harry Styles joins the company, old wounds are reopened and old passions reignited. During the company's production of Swan Lake the secret that doomed their love is finally revealed, but will it be too late?

Me: Trigger Warning, sexual assault (by an original character to a major character). This was a little brutal because I hated to see a broken Harry, but it was well written and has a happy ending.

7. Wear It Like A Crown by zarah5 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1816771/chapters/3900322

AU. As part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in Buckingham Palace, Louis expects Prince Harry to be a lot of things—most notably a royally spoilt brat. Never mind that the very same Prince Harry used to star in quite a number of Louis' teenage fantasies.

Me: I loved Louis in this one--actually they are both pretty great. Scratch that, they are ALL pretty great.

8. Shake Me Down by AGreatPerhaps12 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331958/chapters/7285322

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

Me: I don't like the self-hate here, but it was necessary for the story and H comes around. Found family vibe.

9. Gods & Monsters by Velvetoscar - https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090982/chapters/4550871

The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that's exactly what he did.

Me: I loved Harry in this one. Louis gets there. I don't like Liam, but I don't think you're supposed to. Zayn is great.

10. Own the Scars by crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks) - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1010796

Louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friend, for the life he's supposed to want. After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis' parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. Because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

Me: Harry is lovely in this one. Trigger warning, substance abuse and near death.

11. Wild Love by purpledaisy - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1030904

AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It's supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

Me: I loved this way more than I thought I would. It's lovely and messy and I love it.

12. Victorian Boy by audreyhheart - https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosann1986/readings?page=6

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

Me: Historical fiction I didn't intend to love. I LOVE Harry in this one. LOTS of smut, so be warned.

13. Keep Me Closer by zanni_scaramouche - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30752633

Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around.

What he doesn’t expect is Harry to fucking drop.

Me: lovely, protective Louis just trying to do the right thing.

14. Turning Page by purpledaisy for SockstheDog

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11826345

AU: Harry Styles tries to get lost in a place he’s never been.  Louis Tomlinson has been perfecting the art of being lost for years. What they don’t expect to find is each other.

Me: sweet love story. Niall owns a bar, and is pretty great.

15. Freedom Always Comes With a Price by Cyantific - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30278514/chapters/74624262

A shared dream brings them together onto the X-factor stage, but one decision changes Harry and Louis’ lives overnight. Thrust into a world of instant stardom, they're forced to live a lie to sustain their dreams, but years of living in the shadows and under strict management takes its toll.

With the bands impending hiatus, there’s no better time for change, so they think.

Desperate for a solution, they turn to an unlikely source with a radical plan. An unfortunate accident sets everything in motion, but not how they intended, leaving Louis’ memories altered, Harry broken-hearted and full of regret.

Can Harry figure out a way to fix everything? Will he even want to once he sees how Louis moved on after the hiatus? Will Louis ever find out the truth of their past and can he forgive Harry after all this time?

In the end, two friends find out that memories are elusive, trust is everything and love is the only antidote.

Me: Heartbreaking when they lose each other, but really good in the end.

16. Little Technicolor Things by scary_crow - https://archiveofourown.org/works/6025519/chapters/13821628

Louis is a poor writer and recent university graduate, depressed, anxious, and living in London when he meets Harry, an artist with a secret who likes to paint sunrises and pretty boys from California.

17. Hold You Now by solvetheminourdreams - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30253536/chapters/74556744

Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

Me: Niall is great. They almost miss each other in this one, and you just want to bash them over the head. But they figure it out.

18. At Risk, I Fold by clare328 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/26542480

2015 is a stream of hotel rooms and whisky on the rocks, tired glances and touching hands under tables. It’s the bears and the bees under a rainbow sky, and Harry and Louis have to figure out how to grow up together, instead of apart.

Me: A canon compliant fic that feels like it could have really happened. Set in 2015. Lovely first chapter and scene where Harry writes If I Could Fly--i could read that chapter over and over.

19. Into The Blue by zarah5 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035822/chapters/2065499

AU. In which Louis is Harry's scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can't be all that difficult to convince Harry that they're on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity.

Me: AKA the Scuba fic.

20. Tie Your Heart by ArcadianMaggie - https://archiveofourown.org/works/546688/chapters/973236

Harry grows wings.

Me: How can you not love a fic where Harry grows wings? Trigger warning: injury of a major character.

21. I think I'll end this here. My last and probably first favorite (read it more than once) is...

my heart is breathing for this moment in time by usedtothebeach - https://archiveofourown.org/works/934996/chapters/1820282

When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old.

Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they're put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn't know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry's always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started.

A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile.

Me: I LOVED the Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, and I'm a huge fan of time travel, so this is right up my alley. It's really well done, weaving canon into fantasy and then going years forward in tme. I love everything about it. Great character development. Really good smut. Trigger warning, there's a little underage sex, so be aware. Anyway, LOVE this one so much.

I'll add to this but it's already longer than I meant it to be.

[prettywordsyouleft]

The Cowboy - Part 4

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol) --- there’s a bit of angst in this part

Word count: 2078

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

“That was delicious, thank you!”

“I hope you have room in your stomach for apple crumble,” Mr Jung said, leaning across the table towards you. “June is a mighty fine cook but an even greater baker.”

“The reason he married me, so he says.”

You smiled warmly, enjoying the banter between the pair. Their love for one another was evident. You hadn’t seen such a genuine display of affection in years. The city had jaded your parents and kept them looking for the next big project instead of cosy nights curled up together.

They’re professionals, you reminded yourself when you felt a sense of sadness for your parents. They don’t have time like they do out here.

“Were the heifers put into the bottom field?”

You had almost forgotten Jaehyun was sitting at your side until he cleared his throat then, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, I moved them this morning.”

“By yourself?”

“You had Caleb up in the high fields with you and Avery was otherwise preoccupied with someone,” he continued, and you felt eyes boring into the side of your head on the latter half of the conversation.

You smiled brightly. “It must take a lot of people to run such a big ranch like yours, Mr Jung.”

“We make do with the help we have.”

“We could do with three more men,” Jaehyun muttered, and you looked at him, pausing in saying anything in response when you noticed the dark look within the elder’s eyes.

Blayne was under-populated. You already knew this from the basic land per capita estimates online and in the business proposal for Blayne’s development. If more jobs were created here, then the farms that were struggling would be able to hire more help.

But Blayne also lacked housing. It would need to supply appropriate accommodation for new workers. You stewed over the thought of how many changes would be needed to not only make Blayne easily accessible but also improve the existing community until a dessert plate was placed in front of you.

Blinking out of your reverie, you beamed up at June. “I cannot wait to try it!”

After dinner, you thanked both your hosts generously. “I’ve not had a home-cooked meal quite as tasty as that before.”

“Your mother?” June enquired.

“She’s a professor at the School of Commerce.”

“Ah, she would have been too busy to make meals a priority.”

“It’s okay! I admire her for her work ethic. She’s taught me a lot. Both my parents have always been busy, but that’s how it is in the city.”

“Busy people don’t often see the bigger picture. I can tell by how eager you were to take up the position out here,” Mr Jung mentioned gruffly and you nodded despite his expression. “A woman of marrying age coming up here all alone is usually unheard of.”

“Perhaps Blayne will leave an impression on Y/N, honey.” June offered, patting her husband’s lower arm fondly. She then smiled at you. “You seem quite confident.”

“I’m hopeful I can make a positive change here,” you stated, your own smile fading when you heard a scoff, and then feet moving across the gravel behind you. Darting your focus to the disappearing man that had been waiting nearby, you looked back at his parents. “Thank you again!”

“We’ll have you over anytime, sugar!”

Turning on your heel, you took the pathway that Jaehyun had just departed down, finding him strapping up the horse that had brought you here earlier in the evening. You stopped near his side, frowning at his efforts. “Should you be asking the horse to work again?”

Jaehyun looked in your direction before returning his gaze back to his efforts, not answering your question.

“Your mother said it was too dark to ride last night. Shouldn’t we take the truck since the moon is now up in the sky?” you prompted, shifting your eyes to the heavens. You gasped in awe. “Wow, I’ve never seen such a clear night sky before!”

“Pollution inhibits that,” Jaehyun explained curtly, yanking on a strap and tightening it into place.

“It’s so beautiful out here, though. It’s a shame not many people have experienced it outside of a postcard.”

“Why don’t you save the speech for someone who is interested?”

“Excuse me?” Staring back at the man beside you, you tilted your head to the side. “You’re awfully moody tonight, Mr Cowboy.”

“Back to that name, huh?”

“Well, since you’re feeling a little cold towards me, I don’t know if it’s my place to call you by your first name,” you explained. Jaehyun didn’t respond again, and you sighed. “What did I do wrong?”

“Are you always this self-centred? Can’t you see the bigger picture than the goal inside your head?” Jaehyun questioned, sliding his hands onto his hips and finally facing you. He looked you over again, much as he had earlier when he first saw you as he jumped down from the wagon. Instead of the kindness you had experienced then, it was laced with scrutiny this time. You lowered your gaze to your outfit and stepped back.

“Hey…” you started, and then squared your jaw.

Just who was this guy to act so blunt with you? You should have stuck with believing he was the rude and full of assumptions jerk just as you had thought of him earlier in the day. Perhaps it was the fresh air and gentleness of the wagon ride that had softened your heart to him somehow. You should have known better to trust in your instincts.

Turning on your heel, you started walking down the drive towards the field you had travelled across from your place to the main homestead on this land. You didn’t get far before a hand reached out and yanked on your forearm roughly. “What are you doing?!”

“Going home!”

“Oh, is that so? Through a darkened field? See, this is why you belong in the city, Y/N. You have no idea about the dangers of a working farm. You’re used to living in tiny apartments and navigating mazes of streets and buildings and-”

“I didn’t come here to have you tell me what you think about me, Jaehyun.”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t. But you did come out here all alone with zero understanding of how the country works. You’re here to change how we are? What a joke. You have no concept of what Blayne is about. You’ve not even stopped to take the time to listen to those around you. Instead, you’re dreaming up something big that none of us wants. Can’t you tell that? We might be showing you some country hospitality right now, but don’t go thinking people want you here.”

“That’s incredibly evident, don’t you worry,” you bit back, shaking his grip off your arm.

Jaehyun ran an agitated hand through his hair before looking at you again. “I’ll take you home. Come on.”

“I’m good with directions. I’ll take myself back.”

“What you see during the day changes at night around here. Hate me all you like, but I’ll take you home so I don’t have to worry about you falling in an open drain pipe.”

You opened your mouth to refute the offer, but the image he had painted was enough for you to silently march back over to the wagon. Jaehyun checked everything over again and jumped up into the seat, his hand reaching down to help you up.

Stubbornly, you ignored it and heaved yourself into the seat.

The ride back home was silent, and you preferred it that way. After the outburst in the field, you had little to say to the man. You were grateful he seemed compliant of such silence and didn’t offer any conversation from his behalf either. All the same, you were somewhat holding out for an apology.

You gained none, however.

Leaping down from the wagon, you merely tipped your head as Jaehyun did in farewell and then headed inside without a single word. You watched as the wagon disappeared thereafter, and finally, let out a string of incoherent cursing and annoyance.

You blew a strand of hair away from your face and glowered out the window. “God, I hate him.”

When the morning rose, you got up with a new plan in place. The night before, you had spent the first part of it packing your belongings and then unpacking several times over. You were done with Blayne. If the people didn’t want you here, then you would take heed of their warning and leave.

However, you had been too confident when your boss assigned you with this project.

“They will resist change, you know.”

You nodded. “Of course, but I’m equipped to handle it.”

“Are you?”

“You wouldn’t have pitched the proposal to me if you didn’t think I was the best to acquire the deal, Pierce.”

That, along with the fact that everyone seemingly had bets on when you’d depart played into your new resolve. You would show them just how capable you truly were.

First, however, you needed more information. “Is there a local library or archives here, May?”

“Library?”

You nodded. “Or a town hall? Surely the public can access the information there?”

“Our town hall was burned down ten years ago,” another person at the diner counter mentioned, despite May’s obvious hand swatting him off. He smiled at you. “You’ll have to go to the town over for anything like that.”

“Thank you, you’ve been a great help. Thanks for the coffee, May!”

Once in your car again, you headed back down the country highway and took the forty-five minute drive to the closet township. You cried with comforting relief when you heard the usual bleeps of your phone notification ring in succession.

“Ah, I’m back in a place of proper civilisation!”

Although this township had most amenities, you still were surprised by how small the town hall was. Having no luck there, you went next door to the equally quaint library and piled up all the documents and texts you could find on Blayne.

With a pen in hand ready to take down notes, you picked up the first journal and began to read.

You weren’t aware of how long you spent perusing the history of the area or familiarising yourself with the generations of family lines that were born and bred in Blayne. Stopping on an interesting line in the Jung family, you let out a low whistle. “June and May aren’t originally from Blayne?”

“Perhaps Blayne will leave an impression on Y/N, honey.”

June’s comment from last night pulled a smile onto your lips. At least there seemed to be one person rooting for your stay in Blayne.

It was then when you saw how late into the afternoon it was and you collected up your belongings, asking a clerk if you could take a couple of the history logs with you. After registering with the library and checking them out, you stepped into the warm air, smiling triumphantly at your discovery.

You then pulled out your phone, browsing through the messages you had received. Natalia had contacted you the most, and you pressed call instead of replying, waiting for the call to connect.

“You didn’t let me know if you got there safely!”

“I couldn’t really, the signal out in that place is something else,” you admitted with a grin as you headed to your car. You climbed inside it and then sighed. “I miss you, Natty.”

“Not enough to assure me that you’re alive!”

“Come on, it’s only been a few days, and I’m talking to you now. Isn’t that enough?” you humoured, watching a family cross the intersection up ahead. The little girl skipping across the road seemed so carefree compared to what you had been at that age.

You wondered if the city environment had made you cynical or if that was just who you naturally were.

Natalia cleared her throat and gained your attention again. “Yeah, yeah. So, any hot cowboys out there?”

The image of Jaehyun immediately appeared in your mind, and it ruined your mood entirely. “No. Not a single one.”

“Aw man, here I had you pegged for having a hot summer romance with some farm boy out there.”

“I’m here to work, Natty,” you reminded, both for hers and your sakes. “Even if there was someone handsome, he’s not going to do anything for me.”

_________________

Part 5

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[justlookfrightened]

4, 5, or 35 ? Because I’m indecisive as hell and love your writing.

From this prompt list: 4. “If I die, I’m haunting you first.”; 5. “But I’ve never told you that before.” ; and 35.  “Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you.”

Bitty played hockey and Samwell and went on to be a cookbook author; Jack went directly into the NHL.

Bitty’s eyes traveled up the the shelves of the cupboard, wondering what ingredients he could reasonably expect someone who did not cook or bake for a living to have.

Flour, of course, if they were volunteering to be on a baking show. Most likely all purpose. Sugar (white) and salt (iodized). Butter. Maybe they usually used margarine, but Bitty would not compromise on that. Butter surely counted as a common ingredient. Shortening, too.

What about spices? Most people probably had cinnamon in their cabinets, even if it was twelve years old and devoid of flavor. Would nutmeg or allspice be too much? Maybe.

And this contestant had requested a fruit pie. If they were going for common ingredients, that would most likely mean apple. Apples were nearly always plentiful and cheap at supermarkets, so if this pie was going to use fresh fruit (and it was), it would be apple.

*

Bitty had misgivings about appearing on “So You Think You Can Bake,” the new Food Network show that pitted expert bakers against celebrities. The idea was that the expert would develop a recipe they thought was suitable for an inexperienced home cook.

Then the expert and the celebrity would both make the dish in separate kitchens while being filmed. 

The expert baker and celebrity contestant would have their creations scored anonymously. If the celebrity chef received at least eighty percent of the score of the celebrity baker, they won money for the baker to keep and the celebrity to donate to charity. Total scores counted toward the final competition at season’s end, when the three best pairs would be brought back for the final, competing for a $50,0000 prize.

There were so many things that could go wrong. Bitty could get paired with a celebrity chef with no palate, or no coordination, or even no real interest in winning. Some people could mess up a perfectly good recipe by not measuring accurately, or doing steps in the wrong order, or even mistaking the salt for the sugar. If the celebrity chef messed up, it wouldn’t just look bad for them. It would throw shade on Bitty, whose job, after all, was to explain how to bake in a way that people would understand. Relatable was his brand.

But Eileen, the PR rep who handled his books for the publishing house, thought it would be a good idea.

“This show is literally made for you,” she said. “And the exposure would be great. Think of the campaign for your next book.”

So Bitty agreed. Then he found out who his assigned celebrity was.

“A hockey player?” Bitty asked. “Whose only memorable sound bite is ‘Eat more protein’? Which did not go viral for the reasons he thinks it did. I mean, I wasn’t expecting Beyonce, or even Taylor Swift, but why not a Kacey Musgraves?”

Bitty wasn’t at all bitter that, at 24, he no longer had regular access to an ice rink. He could pay to rent ice to figure skate, but it was hard to find the motivation since he was no longer in competition, and he hadn’t yet found a men’s league hockey team where he felt comfortable.

“I know Jack Zimmermann isn’t who most people think of as a home cook,” Eileen said. “But the producers were thrilled. They think he’ll bring on a whole new demographic.”

“How’d they rope him into it anyway?” Bitty asked, scrolling through interview after interview with Jack talking saying, “We win and lose as a team,” and “We have to protect the neutral zone and get the puck down low,” and “We need to keep our feet moving and have a shoot-first mentality.”

It was like they taught him six phrases in media training and he used them over and over again, in random order.

He wasn’t hard to look at, Bitty would give him that. And the physique -- yeah, his nutrition plan was definitely protein-heavy. Why would he agree to do a baking show? 

*

“My agent said it would be a good idea,” Jack Zimmermann said when he and Bitty had their first meeting. “He said it would humanize me. Actually, he said it would be the beginning of an arc of character development I wasn’t expecting, but that’s just the way he is.”

The actual first meeting was in the green room, waiting to go on-set for the “first meeting” taping. Jack had been sitting in a chair along the wall when Bitty came in, reading an actual, honest-to-God book.

Bitty had to shove his phone in his pocket as he cleared his throat to get Jack’s attention. It seemed like Jack kept reading for a few seconds after he noticed Bitty, which was annoying, because the book would always be there, but Bitty was prepared to be gracious.

“Mr. Zimmermann? I’m Eric Bittle,” Bitty said. “We’re going to be working together. Pleased to meet you.”

“I know,” Jack said. 

Okay. 

“When we start the taping, I’m going to ask you about any experience you have baking, any favorite desserts, things you’ve always wanted to learn to make,” Bitty said. “Anything you want me to steer the conversation toward? Or stay away from?”

“Are we supposed to be doing this?” Jack said. “Talking, I mean.”

“Um, yes?” Bitty said. “It’s not like we’re concocting a fake story. We just want the on-camera talk to go smoothly. So have you baked before?”

“No.”

“Any favorite desserts?”

“I don’t really eat sweets.”

“Well, you’re going to have to eat something sweet,” Bitty said. “Anything you want to make?”

Jack shrugged.

“Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?” Bitty asked.

“Uh, you can call me Jack,” Jack said, then launched into his explanation about his agent, a man with the improbable name of John Johnson.

Bitty shook his head at that, and tried to keep the conversation going.

“You’re Canadian, right?” 

“Dual citizenship,” Jack said. “But I mostly grew up in Montreal.”

“Anything special from back home?”

Then the assistant came to bring them on the set, dressed to look like a home kitchen, each of them seated at a table with mugs in front of them. The mugs just held water, but the audience wouldn’t see that; it was supposed to look like two friends talking over coffee.

Bitty decided to pick up the conversation where he left off in the green room, since it was the only thing he hadn’t struck out on already.

“So, Jack, I understand you’re from Montreal. Do have any memories of classic desserts or baked goods from your childhood?”

Jack paused and looked like he was really thinking, like he didn’t want to disappoint the producers.

“We used to have tarte au sucre at the holidays,” he finally said. “I liked that.”

“Sugar pie?” Bitty said, thankful that at least the cooking terms had stuck from his college French class. “We could do something with that.”

“But I’d like to do something that has some healthy ingredients,” Jack had said. 

“Is fruit healthy enough?” Bitty asked. “Maybe a fruit pie? You might not know this, but that’s kind of my specialty.”

Jack had offered a smile at that, and said, “Good to know. Maybe we can win this thing, eh?”

The taping didn’t last long, and soon Bitty was collecting his things from the green room.

“Wait, Jack, I forgot to ask you, any allergies? I wouldn’t want to kill you for a silly TV show.”

“If I die, I’m haunting you first,” Jack said. “But no, no food allergies. Is there anything I should practice beforehand?”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you that,” Bitty said, starting to feel like maybe Jack wasn’t as wooden as he’d seemed at first. He seemed to relax once the taping ended. Maybe this would be okay after all.

*

Bitty started by making an apple pie, trying to write down the steps as precisely as he could just as he did them.

It didn’t work.

Sure, he could measure and mix the dry ingredients for the crust, and tell Jack to make sure his butter and shortening were cold, but how could he explain the twisting motion for the pastry cutter? When he had to start by explaining what a pastry cutter was? 

And how would Jack know when he was done cutting and should add the ice water? Bitty had read recipes over the years saying the mixture should look like everything from rough crumbs to small peas … which were not the same thing by a long shot. Bitty had learned what it should look like at his MooMaw’s elbow; sure, he’d tried to put it into words in his cookbooks, but there was a reason he always included photos.

Jack had said he’d never baked. He wouldn’t know what it should look like.

Bitty called the producers to ask if he could include pictures in the recipe he developed for Jack.  The answer -- hand-drawn sketches were fine, as long he drew them himself, but no photographs -- was not encouraging.

Bitty started over and this time took a photograph of the dough mixture just before he added the water. He could use that  to write a description, he decided. Then he had to think about how to explain when the dough was wet enough.

Once he had the dough made, the process for making the filling was easier. Peel and slice apples, coat with flour and a little cinnamon and sugar -- and, a last-minute brainstorm for Canadian Jack, a little maple syrup -- and set aside. He toyed with the idea of including maple sugar for the crust, but the studio pantry probably didn’t have real maple sugar. He could boil some syrup down -- but that wasn’t something Jack could (or would) do, probably. Better to just do an egg wash and sprinkle some sugar on for the sparkle.

The instructions for rolling out the dough were simple enough, provided Jack followed them. That was the hard part. Most people couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone with pie dough.

Bitty moved to his laptop and wrote at the top of the instructions:

“A general note on making pie dough. Do less than you think you need to. Don’t work it too much. If you do, it will be tough. So if you’re not sure if you should stop messing with it, stop.”

Then he did his best to put into words what it should like with all the fats cut in (“If you don’t see any powdery flour, it’s probably good”) and with the ice water added (“It should be moist, not wet”).

Then he thought about the top. Normally, people thought of lattices as being hard to do. But if the baker was methodical and followed directions, it wasn’t so bad. And it would be easier to put strips on top of the pie than to pick up the whole top crust and put it on intact. It didn’t really matter if the bottom was a mess; this wasn’t the Great British Bake-Off with Mary Berry and her hatred of soggy bottoms. The pie would be served from the dish, and no one would know if the bottom crust was torn and mended as long it still tasted good.

So, a nice, tightly woven lattice for the top. Bitty set to drawing a detailed diagram.

*

Bitty printed the recipe he developed -- all ten pages -- to bring with him and hand to Jack. He’d already supplied it to the producers to make sure they agreed all the ingredients were things a home cook would have in their pantry, or at least have ready access to.

“Real maple syrup?” the production assistant had asked. “What about something like Pillsbury pancake syrup? That’s what most people use.”

“My baker is Canadian,” Bitty argued. “He’d have the real stuff.”

“Fine, I guess.”

Bitty was dressed for TV in dark skinny jeans, a light T-shirt and a Samwell red button-down over it with red Chuck Taylors. The provided apron, he knew, would be beige with a dark red logo.

Jack came in dressed in charcoal gray tailored slacks and a light blue shirt, almost exactly the same color as his eyes. Yeah, he was good-looking. Bitty wasn’t sure if he would bring in the sports-loving young men the producers were hoping for, but it wouldn’t matter. The women would love him. And the gay boys like him. But no one ever counted them as their own demographic.

When the got into the studio, Bitty handed over the recipe.

Jack’s eyes widened when he saw how long it was.

“Does this take all day?” he asked.

“I can do it in about two hours,” Bitty said. “Counting chilling and baking time.”

“You’ll have three hours to complete the challenge,” the host said. “As long as you finish in that time, any differential in how long it takes won’t count against you.

Jack nodded, a determined set to his jaw. Bitty was almost glad they would be separated so he didn’t have to worry about cutting himself on that jawline.

Then Bitty was escorted to his studio kitchen, where he proceeded to make a pie, narrating each step, just like he was making a vlog post.

He made sure to turn the top of the bowl to the camera when he was done cutting the fats in, and again when he added the water. 

“You see those streaks of butter and shortening?” he said, when he gathered the dough into disks to chill. “You want those to make flaky crust.”

He made sure to slice the apples evenly, and mix them gently with the flour and flavorings, then he rolled his dough out.

He clucked at himself -- but didn’t say anything -- when he realized he’d forgotten to tell Jack to make sure he had the thinnest possible layer of fat on his work surface before he scattered flour over it.

Then, once the pie was done, he actually slapped himself upside the head.

“I never said anything about covering the edges with foil at the beginning,” he said. “Poor guy is definitely gonna have burnt edges. Oh well.”

Bitty’s pie came out of the oven at the two-hour mark, and he donned oven mitts to be filmed carrying it into the judging room.

“You’ve got some time if you want to head to the green room relax,” the production assistant said. “Someone will come get you before Jack is ready to bring his pie in.”

Bitty flung himself onto the couch and groaned. He could have used the $5,000 prize from this stage of the competition to get ahead on his rent for a couple of months … and maybe even rent an ice rink for a couple of hours to clear his mind. He didn’t regret his choice of career -- writing cookbooks, running his vlog, making appearances like this -- but the money tended to come in fits and starts.

He realized he’d never even asked Jack what his charity was. The show must have asked him at some point, so Bitty was sure he’d find out eventually. He hoped Jack would donate to his chosen charity regardless. He could certainly afford it. The only real advantage for the charity to having Jack appear on the show was publicity. Well, and convincing people that straight, athletic young men could bake and enjoy it.

But Bitty forgot to tell him to use foil to guard the edges, so they probably wouldn’t advance, and it would all be Bitty’s fault. Jack -- he had to be competitive, right? -- well, it didn’t matter if hated Bitty. They hardly knew one another. 

*

“Eric? Jack’s pie is done. Time to go to the judging room.”

Bitty roused himself from the sofa, resigned to his fate. If nothing else, he’d learned a lesson.

He took his place behind his pie and waited for Jack and his pie with its inevitable burnt edges.

He was sitting there when Jack came in, carrying his beautiful golden brown pie aloft. Jack set it on the empty cooling rack next to Bitty’s and stepped back.

It was beautiful. The lattice was maybe not quite as straight, not quite as even as Bitty’s, but it was close.

Bitty couldn’t help a pleased grin, first at the pie, then at Jack, who had finished with fifteen minutes to spare.

“Okay, you two. We’re going to break for lunch while Jack’s pie cools,” the production assistant said. “We need you back in an hour in the same clothes, so don’t mess them up.”

Bitty was about to head out when Jack said, “Want to grab a sandwich? There’s a place down the block.”

“Sure,” Bitty said. “I have some questions for you.”

“And me for you,” Jack said.

Once they had their food and settled at a table, Bitty said, “How did you keep the edges from burning?”

“I made foil collars,” Jack said.

“But I’ve never told you that before,” Bitty said.

“You always do it on your YouTube channel,” Jack said.

“Wait … you’ve seen … but you said you’d never baked,” Bitty said. 

“I hadn’t,” Jack said. “That doesn’t mean I’ve never watched anyone else bake on YouTube. When Johnson said you were doing this, it seemed like a good opportunity to meet you.”

“To meet me?” Bitty really had to start thinking of some of his own words instead of just repeating Jack’s.

“Well, yeah,” Jack said. “Someone showed me your videos when you were at Samwell, and I was intrigued by a hockey player who baked. Made me wonder what it would have been like to be on a college team, or whether I’d develop any other interests.”

“Someone?”

Jack actually blushed. “My mother. She went to Samwell.”

It was almost a physical effort for Bitty to push that out of his head. Jack’s mother was … nope. Not going there.

“So you wanted to make pie because you’d see me make it before?” 

“A lot,” Jack said. “But the instructions were really helpful.”

“I thought we’d lost it when I realized I’d never said anything about the foil,” Bitty admitted.

“But I figured you could make a donation to your charity anyway.”

Jack nodded.

“I plan on adding to it even if we win,” he said. “What do you want to do with the money? Bitty was not going to tell Jack Zimmermann that he needed money to pay his rent. Not this unexpected Jack Zimmermann, who for some reason had been interested in Bitty for years. Despite, Bitty reminded himself, being straight. Almost certainly.

“Some of it will buy ice time,” he said. “I miss skating, you know? I used to figure skate before I played hockey.”

“I’m not sure what I’d do if I couldn’t skate every day,” Jack said. “Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t say that. Don’t want to make you jealous.”

“Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you,” Bitty said. ”I have the job I want. I just want to be able to skate for fun. Like you want to bake for fun, I guess.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jack said. “It was pretty stressful. I kept wanting to make it perfect, but you said not to overwork it. But maybe it would be more fun if it wasn’t being recorded for TV.”

“Maybe we could bake together sometime?” Bitty said. 

“Then skate?” Jack suggested. “On our practice ice.”

“That would be really great,” Bitty said. “Ready to go back? By the way, you never said what your charity is.”

“You Can Play,” Jack said. “I’m thinking of coming out next year.”

[uwua3]

Hello!! I love your writing and how detailed it is! And if requests are open could I request hcs of Juza with a s/o who loves to bake? Thank you!! 💖💖💖

now,, this... is a Move. juza being pampered by an elite s–tier baker who shows their love through food 🥺 perhaps it is what the cutest tough boy deserves !!! i love this prompt, thank you so much! love you ♡

summary: a love that feels like home blossoms between a baker and a boy who loves sweets

author’s note: this starts off with strangers > friends > lovers! i hope you like it even if it’s long!

just juza on the brain, that’s it. i think juza is beginning to be one of my favorite boys to write, this was so fun to re–read and laugh about! it’s a take on forming a friendship over sweets and how sweet new love can be ♡

word count: 5,091

music: sunflower, vol. 6 – harry styles

baker’s boy!

🍁🍰 hyodo juza

it was your first day continuing your family legacy by moving your bakery to veludo way!

you had worked day and night working minimum wage serving in restaraunts after running your family business ever since you could walk. you finally saved up enough to move the bakery to a better, more popular location to gain more business!

your family had practically given up on the decades–old business, barely putting in any effort to help you design the interior, contribute with the baking, or even advertising on the streets. so to you, this business was yours and your achievement alone

just like every morning since you were six, you rose bright and early at 4:30 a.m. to start preparing the fresh batch for today to guarentee the best, cutest desserts anyone could ever feast their eyes upon

you practically left your studio apartment and ran downstairs to the first level, where you set up the bakery for everyone to come and buy your products

you couldn’t help your excitement! you threw on the first apron your grandmother had gotten in celebration of the first day ever. it was stained with tons of sugar and flour, but it was your reminder everyday you were carrying on the dream your grandparents fantasized about

you flipped on the lights and basked in the new scenery. the bakery was decorated with beautiful flowers lining the windows, floral accents like vines and hanging plants at the top of the walls, and vintage designs your grandmother especially adored on the white chairs around lacy tables. your glass display counter was begging you to stock it with sweets, its empty surface almost making you feel sad

but, how could you be sad? this was your bakery and today was a brand new day! the kitchen was pristine with all the supplies you needed, and it didn’t take much for you to start baking until the early hours of the morning

decorating was your favorite part of baking! you were happily putting icing on cupcakes, designing them based on your recent addiction to animal crossing. you even made one for different characters, gazing upon the isabelle and nooks with pride

you couldn’t believe it... this was your business. you looked up, knowing your grandparents were overjoyed to see you baking with all your heart!

you kept going, preparing fresh batches of fun japanese sweets like mochi ice cream, hakuto jelly, and even fun ones like coffee jelly! by the time you were somewhat done, you glanced up at the clock and grinned. it was 8 a.m., time for opening!

you perfectly set up the displays and beamed with pride, running out to the store front to flip the sign to “open” for the first time. the fresh air outside was satisfying, and the leaves on the trees rustled as students were heading to school on route with their bicycles and in groups of friends

you had dropped out of school to be able to continue the business, much to the disagreement and shame from your parents. so, watching classmates pass by without a second look was hurtful, but you refused to let that get you down. you simply patted your apron down, headed inside, and sat at the counter waiting for customers to come rolling in!

apparently, it was much harder than that

despite the coupons given out at markets to get people interested in the low prices, the constant flyers handed out even if it cost you your social energy, and word by mouth, it wasn’t enough to make your first day a smashing hit

but, that was okay. sometimes, businesses needed time, that was all! all day, you snacked on one of your own creations as the electric fan whirred, rotating side to side lazily as the heat began to kick in (maybe, you should have put funds aside for some a.c.)

it was about school–closing time, you were beginning to grow restless from not seeing anyone. it was hard not to talk to at least someone, or see anybody just looking at the designs you worked so hard

you were about to start cleaning up and closing early for the day to get some rest for tomorrow morning (and maybe a quick nap), before you noticed a stranger loitering out front

you nearly fainted. he was so... intimidating. the boy was in his school uniform, his bright purple hair was slicked back with straight, matching eyebrows above his narrowed, sharp yellow eyes. what was he looking so intently at?

you followed his line of sight, and noticed he was staring at one of your cupcakes! it was the isabelle one, with a cute bell–bag bow and the happy expression stared back at him. you became ecstatic, almost tumbling off your bar stool as you brushed off any powder on your apron. was he about to be your first customer?

you left the store quickly, sounding off the bell above your head as the student almost stumbled backwards, eyes widening as you came over to him with a big grin

“hi! are you interested in any of my desserts today?” you asked, your voice peaking at a way too high tone as he blankly stared at you, eyes shifting back and forth to the cupcake and you

it was like a major internal argument was happening before he simply turned around and started walking away

in that moment, you were about to give up before you clenched your fists at your sides with determination. you couldn’t lose your first customer!

you immediately followed him as he looked over his shoulder, eyes widening again as he sped up his pace

“hey! if you like my isabelle cupcake so much, i’ll even give it to you!” you desperately offered, seeing you guys were about to reach the end of the street and you left the bakery unlocked. a cold sweat ran down your back when you realized you could’ve gotten robbed, but (somewhat) luckily, you had no business

the purple–haired boy stopped, but he didn’t turn to face you. he was thinking again, his hands in his jacket pockets as he turned to look at you, up and down like to see if you were a threat. he slowly nodded, as if he was still reconsidering his options

you smiled, giving him no time to think as you cheered. your first customer (even if it was technically free)! you turned on your heel, heading back to the store as the high schooler trailed after you hesitantly

when you went back inside with a jingle of the bell, the boy awkwardly waited by the counter at a safe distance as you packaged the cupcake inside a white box with the design of your cute logo that was above the door

(you noticed how he shifted from one foot to another, pretending like he wasn’t admiring your creations. it was sweet, in a way, as he glanced at your other works and seemed to be in a better mood. you smiled)

you went around the counter and held out the box, knowing the cupcake was safely protected to go as he carefully took it, debating on what to say before he nodded

you were about to go about your day, happy someone was going to eat your dessert, before you felt something get slipped into your hand

it was a bill that covered about three cupcakes. your jaw dropped and you looked at the high school student who’s face suddenly went red as he roughly shoved his wallet back into his pant pocket, still holding the box in the other

“you... thank you.” he finally said and your heart felt like it was on a sugar rush. his voice was deep, but timeless, like he’s lived a thousand lives and knew the ancient wisdom of a million men. it was pleasant to the ear; your shock must have made him insecure as he began shifting back and forth again

“i–it’s no problem!” you got out after a beat of uncomfortable silence, seeing an exhale of relief leave his lips. he nodded again, about to turn before you stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder as his muscles tensed

you knew you had crossed a line, but you just had to know as you nervously laughed, trying to ease the tension

“what’s your name?” you asked innocently, not realizing his thoughts were racing a mile a minute as he blinked, trying to find a way out. he just sighed, figuring there was no harm to respond to the cute baker who just provided him a present he would’ve regretting coming home without

“juza.” he simply stated, leaving as the bell rang out again. you released a breath you weren’t aware you were holding, collapsing on a nearby chair as you stared at the palm of your hand that touched his shoulder

he was strong to the touch, and it was obvious in the way he presented himself. but, his intentions were kind despite his stand–offish attitude. his immediate instincts were fight or flight, and it made you feel accomplished to see he found the interior of your bakery calming

juza... you thought, wanting to see him again. it fit him well, wondering where he went to school and why you never noticed those yellow eyes before. they were almost the same shade of the yellow icing on the vanilla cupcake he just paid for

juza was the first and last customer you had that day, but you didn’t mind as much

you approached the blackboard stationed next to the stairs listing your goals and objectives. you picked up the stick of chalk, adding a new reminder: “make two more cupcakes tomorrow for juza”

you went to bed that night oddly content and satisfied with how everything went, despite the low turnout

juza arrived at the mankai dorms by evening, ignoring banri’s attempt to start an argument by asking where he was the entire time after school

(juza just shrugged silently, refusing to admit he stopped by a park just to sit down at a bench to admire your isabelle cupcake. he almost couldn’t bring himself to eat such a cute little thing, and unwrapped it before indulging)

(juza knew this was the best cupcake he’s ever had in his entire life. it was made with love, and juza finished it before he could even blink. juza felt comforted, like he was home)

(juza carefully kept your business card at the bottom and made sure to include your bakery’s address in his daily commutes from here on out)

it was the next day! it was the same routine: waking up happily and dedicating hours of your early morning to the art of sweets! this time, you put time aside to repay back that sweet but scary boy with two more cupcakes

this time, you made them based on luigi & daisy! they had button noses with adorable details you were proud of! you made the wrappers have little bows and managed to even attach a little green one–up mushroom

you didn’t know why you were so excited to open up shop as you skipped out, turning the sign to “open” for a second time. maybe, you’d see juza again today and give him your work!

you had waited patiently at the register, watching the crowds of people pass by. sometimes, your hopes would rise when someone pointed out to their friends the chalk menu you had at the front before they moved on. you didn’t let that get you down as you swung your legs, waiting for that juza to come by so you could thank him

it was school closing time, and you noticed the purple hair and college jacket this time as you leaped to the door in a moment of joy. he was walking this way again!

juza was looking at the window display again, appreciating the creativity and dedication you put into your desserts before he felt you tugging at his sleeve. he looked down and you were looking at him expectantly

what did you want? was he giving you bad business? juza glanced inside the store and nearly winced. empty again, even though your desserts were the best he’s had

“juza!!! i have a special gift for you!” you exclaimed, dragging him inside as your heart pounded against your chest. you didn’t know why you were being so open with a boy you just met, but there was something soft about a rebel kid who really liked your sweets even if he didn’t say it out loud

juza was overwhelmed. you made something for him? why? juza was almost panicking, but his exterior was stoic as always. you couldn’t tell he was nervous, because you were too focused on locating the box

(he looked behind him, seeing nobody that would find out he actually really loved desserts at this time of day. phew, his reputation was already bad enough)

when you came back from the kitchen with a perfect box, juza held it tightly, looking at it then to you as if to silently ask for permission to open it. you nodded, thrilled when his eyes sparkled at the sight of the nintendo cupcakes

(he looked so happy, it looked like he was about to eat the whole thing right then and there!)

this routine repeated for a month or so as you began to slowly build your business up from the ground up: juza would wait outside by 3 p.m., you’d invite him in to give him whatever pastry he was staring intently at, he’d pay you way too much, and you’d give him extras as a treat the next day

juza always avoided crowds if they formed in your store, and those were the saddest days when you saw him quickly run away if there was another person. he was skittish in a way, like a cat

(you didn’t tell him you decided to make your break time from 3—4 p.m.)

it took a month of baiting him with a new selection of desserts everyday, inviting him inside to be surrounded by the floral interior, and trying to open him up with excited small–talk and innocent questions before juza sat down at one of the seats to eat the dessert in–person

you had discovered he really liked moondrop cake, so you made one especially for juza! when you gave it to him, it was refreshing that his genuine enjoyment for your creations never went away and he was just as happy as the first isabelle cupcake to now

you were about to wave him goodbye before he unexpectedly sat down at one of the tables, carefully peeling off the wrapper as he ate your raindrop cake in silence

you were stunned, he was like a cat you had to give food to so he’d build a meaningful connection with you. it was almost funny enough to make you burst out laughing in the middle of the store as you went back to the kitchen to give him peace & quiet

from there on, you learned more and more about juza everyday. you, at first, were a bit scared but your fear went away once you realized how gentle he was with handling your creations

(you picked up on the fact he always picked up the chair and placed it down to avoid hearing it scrape against the tile. he flinched whenever you accidentally hit your whisk against the bowl or if a car honked outside. you learned to be quiet around him because his presence was genuinely comforting)

one thing you learned about juza was he was actually a high school thug in a school nearby, apparently

(you almost didn’t believe it until one day, he came running into your store hiding from obsessed boys wanting to be just like him. you had to put on the best lie of your life as you sadly told the boys juza would never be in a desserts bakery as he hid under the counter, snickering into his hand)

(you two burst out laughing when the door closed, holding your stomachs from how hilarious the situation was)

now, he was an aspiring actor apart of mankai’s autumn troupe. his eyes shined the same way he saw your desserts when he opened up to you about acting, before he was acutely aware of you hanging onto every word and awkwardly cleared his throat, going back to eating

you enjoyed juza’s company, he was soft and tough all at once and you always looked forward to having him over

(he never admitted it, but the highlight of his day was seeing you. he stopped engaging into after school fights because he wanted to see you as soon as possible. even in his last class, his leg was bouncing up and down because he always bolted out of the building like his life depended on it)

(no one questioned where juza hung out for hours after school, even though banri made some joke about a date. juza just blushed, clutching the bag of sweets you gifted to him as a treat)

(maybe, just maybe, he even liked seeing you and watching you out of the corner of his eye more than your desserts)

(he’d never tell you that, though)

when juza came in, the bell jingled at the same time every day ever since you chased him down and gave him an animal crossing themed cupcake

it was the weekend this time, and he was wearing a casual white tee shirt and his usual purple letterman jacket

you were serving a trio of local kids who had their bikes parked outside of the store, they were all jumping over the cute and realistic pokémon design you had today based on the starters in sword & shield

“you’re so talented! i want to eat them all!” one of the kids exclaimed and you were practically sparkling with happiness, having no problem giving them extras and patting their cheeks with a smile. juza stood by the door, letting the spring air in as he admired the way you handled the situation

(personally, juza didn’t know how to handle children. they were always too emotional, crying about something he didn’t know how to fix. he’d just unintentionaly glare and hope it went away)

as you guided the kids to the door, they all stopped dead and stared wide–eye at the looming thug at the entrance. juza just blinked, not knowing what to do as one of them looked like they were about to cry

was he glaring at them right now? he didn’t mean to, his face just naturally was like that. juza uncomfortably shifted on his feet, about to take off before you placed a hand on his shoulder again

(juza blushed and looked as red as the scorbunny ice cream)

“don’t worry, guys! this is juza, he’s my resident taste–tester! he makes sure no bad guy came and poisoned your food!”

you teased, patting his arm the way you did with the kids

(inside, you were sweating. was his muscles always this strong? you wanted to loop your arm under his)

the kids let out a sound of awe, their point of view suddenly changing as they got closer, poking juza’s arm as well with sudden interest

“really?! you’re a hero, then!”

“and lucky! i want to eat sweets all day, too!”

you giggled, fondly pinching one of their cheeks as you shook your head, mustering up your most exaggerated tragic expression ever

“no... it is a scary, scary task. manju here must eat every batch and risk his life everyday so you can eat good food!” you laughed, holding a small conversation with the kids about the lore of your bakery as juza gripped the door frame, stunned

(manju? he thought, feeling hot under the collar all of a sudden. he liked it when you called him that)

when the group of children biked away with their newfound treasure and animatedly yelled over to one another, juza watched you hum an unfamiliar song as you began sweeping

juza coughed, trying not to be weird about it as he forced himself to talk

“manju?” juza asked, pretending to be casual by moving the furniture out of the way for you to sweep the room easily. he didn’t catch the way you nearly dropped the broom as you realized what you called him

“manju... like the bun with red bean paste. kids have a hard time saying ‘z’ for some reason.” you tried to play it off like it was nothing, but juza quietly took it in as he looked at you, staring as he seemed to think it over

you nervously stopped cleaning, looking back at him and trying to communicate that you didn’t mean to scare him off. maybe nicknames were a bit too extreme for him, he didn’t seem open to the affection you wanted to put aside for him

juza put the chair back down softly, turning his whole body towards you as he nodded. he stepped closer, taking the broom gently from your hands as he began sweeping for you

“i like manju.” he mumbled, suddenly moving to the other side of the room as he left you standing in the center of the bakery. you couldn’t believe it! juza liked your endearment? did this mean you guys were officially friends?

you glanced back to see him almost reaching for one of the dango rice dumplings you hadn’t stuck on a stick yet. you gasped loudly, scaring him to pull his hand back

“manju!” you dramatically yelled, watching as he tried to hide his slight smile. he quickly took a dumpling, disappearing off into the kitchen he knew far too well as you chased after him with no cares in the world

it was unknown to both of you, but that spring afternoon with the door open was the start of a budding romance between a baker and a boy who loved sweets

you had gotten juza’s number and put his contact under: “manju 🍡🍥🍦”

(he put yours as: “dango 🍡🧑‍🍳” after the whole dango–heist operation in your bakery)

(whenever you asked what it was, he just shrugged and said your name just like everyone else. in reality, your contact was the only one with emojis. it had a silly picture of you two after he accidentally tripped and whacked a bag of flour on your head)

(the picture was you staring blankly at the camera with an all–white look, sitting on the floor surrounded by even more white powder. it still made juza exhale sharply through his nose when he looked too closely)

juza started staying longer, even past your break time as customers came in. he stayed even though he got anxious around crowds, reserving his special seat behind the front counter and often was known as an employee

(he basically was, he left his comfort zone when he helped people choose desserts based on their mood and proved to be the best unpaid worker ever. he cleaned up without being asked, worked the register, and even sometimes took your shifts if you looked tired)

(you should really start paying him)

(poor boy was using his funds only on you)

as a local business, you did everything by yourself and it made him uneasy to know you did all this work (so helping out was helping him calm down knowing you were at least resting at some points)

juza helped you expand your taste in japanese desserts; like akumaki, imagawayaki, and higashi packages! you learned from him just as much as he did with you in the kitchen

as payment to his services, you began teaching him how to bake at home, too! you gave him the basics and always had fun showing him what to do. juza was extremely careful and always paid attention, showing he really did care about desserts (and your lessons as he always looked you in the eye intensely)

(it always made you stutter, but it seemed like he never noticed as he nodded attentively)

juza even brought his new skills back to the mankai dorms, offering to make desserts for anyone at home and always had something ready

(omi was impressed, patting juza on the head every time and complimenting his skill in the kitchen these days)

(taichi would whine, asking why did juza eat half of the serving if it was for everyone else. juza just stuffed his face, knowing you were a much better baker and he missed your food)

(and he missed you, juza thought. sakyo raised one eyebrow at juza’s sudden red face, but didn’t question it)

one day, you decided to take your relationship to another level by walking to his dorm around 5 p.m. you cancelled on juza today, pretending like you were gonna be baking all day for tomorrow. he simply sent you a thumbs up (he wasn’t much of a texter anyways, though he did try to avoid phone calls)

you were in front of the mankai dorms, already hearing chaos as you pressed the doorbell cautiously. suddenly, everything in the house went silent as if they were all aware they had neighbors

you waited, until an extremely tall (6��3”) beast of a man stared down at you with a heartfelt smile. he had flour on his face, was he baking?

“hi! can i help you?” he asked, tilting his head down at the bakery box held tightly in your hands as you blushed, looking at the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world

“um... is manju—juza, juza home? i have a present for him.” you held up the box, and suddenly omi’s eyes lit up in recognition. so those were the boxes omi always found recycled with that one logo

“he is, do you want to see him?” omi was about to let you in before a very excited, hyperactive boy with flaming red hair poked his head out from under omi’s arm, grinning like he came across a very important secret

“are you juza’s partner?!” taichi exclaimed, not giving you any time to answer as he squealed, making the connection to the logo on the box you had to juza’s new kitchen skills

without time to even think, another teen around juza’s age peered over taichi with a lazy glance up and down, suddenly grinning the same shit–earing grin he always had when he knew something was about to go down

“juza! your partner is here! i knew you were having a date with someone!” banri yelled over his shoulder, resisting omi’s attempts to push him inside and keep taichi at bay. you blinked rapidly, trying to process what the hell was happening

(you recognized them now, they were juza’s homescreen. it must have been juza’s autumn troupe! they fit the descriptions juza had, you just didn’t expect this much polarity between their personalities, but it worked somehow)

you heard juza yell at banri for being invasive and knowing no boundaries, before he went to the door and almost dropped his whisk. your heart skipped a beat, he was baking, like you taught him. he actually liked baking

juza was flustered, trying to get any word out as omi dragged taichi away with a strict fatherly attitude (“leave juza alone! i might have to put you in your room, do you want a time–out?” “omi~ i’m not 5!” “then stop acting like you are!”)

“manju?” you asked as he stepped outside, closing the door behind him. you heard a man yell at the rest of the autumn troupe to stop eavesdropping, you identified it as yakuza sakyo. you shivered, he even sounded scary

“hi.” juza said, beginning to shift on his feet again. he didn’t look angry, almost pleasantly surprised to see you outside of their scheduled meetings. you smiled, pushing the box in his hands and laughed

“you know, i see where you get it from.” you joked as juza quietly laughed as well, rolling his eyes at the autumn troupe. you knew he loved them, though, and against your will, you wondered if he’d ever think of you like that

“ha ha.” juza deadpanned, gratefully taking the box as he watched you, not bothering to hide his smile. it was refreshing to see you

before you could leave, juza suddenly realized something as he demanded for you to wait and hurried back inside. you saw movement against the curtains, the boys leaving their hiding spots to go tease him some more

juza yelled at them to stop, though not angrily, as he shut the door again. he stood on the steps with a different box, this one all black with his name written in purple calligraphy

“here.” he gave the box to you and immediately went inside, almost embarrassed to be giving you something in return besides money

(really, he’d save the other half of whatever he made for you)

you almost teared up at the sight of the imperfect desserts, all gently wrapped and it was so obvious juza tried his hardest to replicate your own style. he really did care

as you left, you felt a ping from your phone. you opened it to a text from juza’s number:

“juza’s favorite dessert is anmitsu with cream. maybe some strawberry milk, too — sakyo”

you headed back to your bakery to get to work with the best dessert plan yet: you were gonna ask out juza “manju” hyodo to be your boyfriend

it was the next day, juza went in thirty minutes earlier today as he claimed his usual spot behind the desk. he was about to ask where your display was before you came out of the kitchen, holding a platter that made his jaw drop

you had anmitsu! it was a dessert with anko and cubes of agar, with a small pot of black mitsu syrup on the side with mochi, fruit, and ice cream. to top it all off, was a carton of strawberry milk

juza was speechless, unable to say anything as you placed it down in front of him. how’d you know?

you were about to say something, but shook your head as you pushed the dish closer to him. juza noticed three characters carved on the ice cream with the syrup:

B F ?

it was the best anmitsu juza ever had

a love that felt like home blossomed between a baker and a boy who loved sweets

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone’s Symphony Playlist

A list of songs that I have gathered that make me think of Persephone and Hades, not in order but will have the chapters they fit with beside them for an added listening experience if one so wishes <3

Find it on Spotify here

Persephone's Symphony Master List

none too deep | Atlas in Motion, Sofia Caterina — Night One | Hades

Nothing you can say will make me leave

I'm none too deep for you

Don't push me away, i wanna be here for you

And i won't push you too far to feel

Like you have to talk about the dark

_

Hey, Soul Sister | Jonah Baker — Day Two | Hades

Your sweet moonbeam

The smell of you in every single dream I dream

I knew when we collided

You're the one I have decided who's one of my kind

_

I Of The Storm | Of Monsters and Men — Night One | Persephone, Night Two | Hades

I am a stranger

I am an alien inside a structure

Are you really gonna love me when I'm gone?

With all my thoughts

And all my faults

_

Accidentally in Love | KiD RAiN — Day Three | Persephone

Come on, come on

We were once upon a time in love

We're accidentally in love

_

Falling | Harry Styles — Day Two | Persephone

What am I now? What am I now?

What if you're someone I just want around

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling

_

The Scientist | Gabriella — Day One | Hades

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry

You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you, tell you I need you

Tell you I set you apart

Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions

Oh, let's go back to the start

_

If I Die Young | The Band Perry — Day Three | Hades

I've never known the lovin' of a man

But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand

There's a boy here in town, says he'll love me forever

Who would have thought forever could be severed by

The sharp knife of a short life

Well, I've had just enough time

So put on your best, boys, and I'll wear my pearls

What I never did is done

_

Lose My Mind (Acoustic) | Dean Lewis — Day Two | Hades

Oh now you're looking at me,

And I'm looking at you like a fool

But you don't know what it feels like to fall in love with you

No you don't know what it's like when you can't go back

_

Drops of Jupiter | stories, Olivia Kuper Harris — Night Three | Hades, Epilogue | Persephone

But tell me, did you sail across the sun?

Did you make it to the Milky Way

To see the lights all faded

And that heaven is overrated?

Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star?

One without a permanent scar

And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?

_

Skinny Love | Birdy — Night One | Persephone, Day Three | Hades

Come on, skinny love, just last the year

Pour a little salt, we were never here

My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer

_

Afterglow | Ed Sheeran — Day Two | Persephone

Stop the clocks, it's amazing

You should see the way the light dances off your head

A million colours of hazel, golden and red

Saturday morning is fading

The sun's reflected by the coffee in your hand

My eyes are caught in your gaze all over again

_

save me from the monster in my head | Welshly Arms — Night One | Hades, Night Two | Persephone, Night Two | Hades

Would you find me when the lights go down?

And hold me steady when I'm freakin' out?

'Cause I need you here

You keep me safe

You keep me safe and sound

_

Home | Cavetown — Prologue | Hades, Day One | Hades, Night One | Hades, Day Two | Hades

Get a load of this monster

He doesn't know how to communicate

His mind is in a different place

Will everybody please give him a little bit of space

Get a load of this train-wreck

His hair's a mess and he doesn't know who he is yet

But little do we know, the stars

Welcome him with open arms

_

I Should Probably Go To Bed | Dan + Shay — Night One | Persephone, Night Two | Persephone, Night Two | Hades, Day Three | Persephone

I should probably go to bed

I should probably turn off my phone

I should quit while I'm ahead

I should probably leave you alone

Now I'm all up in my head again

'Cause I know I don't

Have the self-control

To walk away if you walk in

_

Iris | Natalie Taylor — Night Three | Persephone, Night Three | Hades

And I'd give up forever to touch you

'Cause I know that you feel me somehow

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

And I don't wanna go home right now

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

_

Admit Defeat | Bastille — Day Two | Hades, Night Two | Hades, Day One | Persephone, Night Three | Persephone, Night Three | Hades

You stirred somethin' in me

I admit defeat

Won't be thinking 'bout anything at all tonight, so

Wrap yourself 'round me

I admit defeat

Won't be thinking 'bout anything at all tonight, but

You, oh, oh

_

All of Me | John Legend — Night One | Hades

How many times do I have to tell you?

Even when you're crying, you're beautiful too

The world is beating you down, I'm around

Through every mood

You're my downfall, you're my muse

My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues

_

Angel With A Shotgun | The Cab — Day Three | Hades

hey say before you start a war

You better know what you're fighting for

Well, baby, you are all that I adore

If love is what you need, a soldier I will be

I’m an angel with a shotgun

Fighting 'til the war's won

I don't care if heaven won't take me back

I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe

Don't you know you're everything I have?

_

Work Song | Hozier — Day Three | Persephone, Night Three | Persephone, Night Three | Hades

Cause my baby's sweet as can be

She'd give me toothaches just from kissin' me

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

_

High Tops | Del Water Gap — Night Three | Persephone, Night Three | Hades

Don't you know that you're the only queen

Of this one-horse town

You're the only one that meant a thing to me

You're still hanging around

Touch me like you know me

Baby when you're lonely

Kiss me on my open mouth

I'll throw you a rope

I'll keep pulling you out

_

I Love You, I Love You. It’s Disgusting. — Epilogue | Persephone

You rescued me when my mind was in a prison

You set me free when no one else would listen

Now I finally feel complete

And I will follow you into the sea of eternity

Collapse into my arms

I'll take care of your heart

_

4 AM | Olivver The Kid — Night One | Hades, Night Two | Persephone

At 4 o'clock in the morning

You said

How often do these nightmares come?

Who are the wolves in your head?

How often do these nightmares come now?

_

Machine | Scott Helman — Day Two | Hades, Night Two | Hades, Day Three | Persephone

But you're more than bolts.

Like the city's more than steel and stone.

Soon your heart is gonna overflow.

They push you back down, you get up again.

Circuits freeze and androids never dream.

You're more than a machine.

_

Holding out for a Hero | Elise Lieberth — Night One | Hades, Day Three | Hades

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night

He's gotta be strong

And he's gotta be fast

And he's gotta be fresh from the fight

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light

He's gotta be sure

And he's gotta be soon

And he's gotta be larger than life

_

[galactic-academia]

Alexithymia

@quentawewe​ asked for #4 "Walk out that door and we’re through" with Sherlock, it was probably in 50 BC and I’m sorry about this, but be sure I did my best, I hope you will enjoy it <3

Rating: G

Category: F/M

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/Female Reader

Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Sherlock Is a Mess, Sherlock Is Cute, Possessive!Sherlock, Did I Mention The Fluff?

Words: 1970

Summary: When she heard that Y/N was searching for a flat, Mrs. Hudson immediately offered her to come living at the 221b; what Y/N hadn’t expected were for John’s old room to not be ready to welcome her. The fact is... Sherlock doesn’t want her in another bedroom but his...   

Notes: I’m not a native, please, forgive my mistakes. Picture is not mine. I hope you will enjoy it <3

Masterpost | Ask | Guidelines | Sherlock (BBC) masterlist

Fresh from the Police Academy, Y/N did know things wouldn’t be easy. She was well aware of the risks of her job, she knew very well she wasn’t a sheriff from the Far-West neither a super-hero, she wasn’t about to forget to call for backup when it was needed, yadda, yadda; the instructor had really well done his job, namely ram those concepts in her head as deeply as he could without using a bludgeon so that the new recruit she was wouldn’t make herself kill as soon as she would put a toe on the field.

But there were two things Y/N’s instructor - as skilful and dedicated as he was - couldn’t have prepare her for: firstly for having to work with a bunch of nutcases led by Sherlock Holmes and, then, for her greatest challenge to be finding a place to sleep which wouldn’t cost twice her pay AND wouldn’t be at three hours away from Scotland Yard.

To be fair, this problem had been quickly solved after she had complained about the four busses and metro she had to take to negotiate the distance between her friend’s couch and her office at the Yard to Mrs. Hudson while she was waiting for the Detective to put on some pants for her to drive him to a new crime scene: a week later, Y/N was moving in Baker Street.

Nobody would be able to guess which of Mrs. Hudson or Sherlock had been the more surprised: Sherlock for Y/N to be willing to move in with him (well, not technically “with him”, but in the same flat, under the same roof, sharing a kitchen, and a living room, and a freaking bathroom... All of those mundane things) and Mrs. Hudson for Sherlock to agree this easily when she had asked his opinion about Y/N becoming his new flatmate. Anyway, Y/N was downstairs with all her belongings and a new problem had raised: with his ongoing case, Sherlock hadn’t had the time to move all the shit he had stored in John’s old bedroom elsewhere... That’s how poor Y/N ended up sleeping on another couch - Sherlock’s this time - surrounded by her boxes.

It hadn’t been a problem, at first, Y/N was well placed to know Justice couldn’t wait and quite happy about the ten little minutes between her new couch and the Yard. Two months later, it had become a problem. Sherlock kept finding all kind of idiotic excuses to NOT vacate Y/N’s room; because, yes, it was Y/N’s room, even if Mrs. Hudson had kindly reduced her rent because of the lack of the bedroom Y/N was paying for. It could have not become a problem, Y/N could have left the flat and almost all of her Sherlockian problems behind her, Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t have hold it against her but... Well... Maybe there had been third things the instructor couldn’t have prepare Y/N for, the third would be the soft feelings the police officer was cultivating towards the detective.

And it was stupid, really, it was very clear Sherlock didn’t want her around since he was stubbornly refusing to let Y/N integrating her new bedroom. But you know what? You don’t become a police officer at Scotland Yard because of your outstanding tastes in donuts. Sherlock didn’t want to share is flat with Y/N but let her believe otherwise and pay for a bedroom she couldn’t sleep in? OK, fine. Very well. He would -  at the very least - be forced to face his own assholery.

This time, when Sherlock went to leave the room, he found himself back to a very pissed off and dishevelled Y/N roaring “Walk out that door and we’re through”.

oOo

When Sherlock was going to Scotland Yard headquarter, it wasn’t exactly for the charming companionship. Well, that was maybe a little too harsh, Georges has a least half of a brain and was always doing his best; but, otherwise, if Sherlock was going to Scotland Yard, it was because he wanted a case. Or for an emergency, just like right now. What an emergency? No idea, but it has to be something quite pressing or the officer Y/L/N wouldn’t have thrown him out of his bed while yelling at him to put on some pants before storming out of his bedroom.

When Sherlock left the flat to climb in the cab waiting for him, Mrs. Hudson’s knowing gaze told him he had been spotted. To be fair, he hadn’t been quite subtle, the fact he had obeyed to the officer Y/L/N - and hurried to do so! - told a great deal about how he felt toward her. And, indeed, the next morning, the landlady had suggested a new flatmate to Sherlock.

Ah! What could have he answered to that? He has a soft spot for the officer Y/L/N, not only because she wasn’t afraid to shake him out of the bed, but also because she listened to him. She wasn’t settling for hearing him in awe, in shock or in disgust like all the others did, no, she listened to him. She genuinely listened to him. He had quickly discovered that fact, which had offset his own awe, shock and disgust towards the... The feelings he couldn’t help but have. He had agreed to share the 221B Baker Street with the officer Y/L/N which had become Y/N.

When she had arrived with all her belongings to move in, Sherlock hadn’t honestly mean for her room to not be set, he would have been ready to swear it and had profusely apologized, he had really been caught in the last case and just never thought about tidying John’s old room at all. The incredulous smile Y/N had thrown him before bursting of laughing and telling him it was ok, she would sleep on the couch, just bolstered Sherlock in his first idea: he had been right to accept Y/N as a new flatmate.

He couldn’t have known that, a few hours later, seeing Y/N quietly asleep on the couch would stir something unknown inside of him, something which demanded him to protect and provide, something which made him sick at the idea of letting her go anywhere, something which couldn’t bear the idea of not enjoying the cute show of Y/N’s slumber every night. No, not even the great Detective Sherlock Holmes would have been able to know about this possessive side of himself as Lavoisier wouldn’t have known about the phenomenon of oxidation before burning some metal.

Sherlock knew his behaviour wasn’t worthy of a gentleman and he was secretly praying for his mother never discovering how he had addressed a woman, but it had been stronger than him and, yes, even stronger than the possibility of Mrs. Holmes’ wrath. Sherlock wanted to keep Y/N all for himself and it was already difficult enough to let her go God knows where every morning for the genius to be unwilling to divest himself of the few hours he could spend with her every day. Don’t get him wrong, Sherlock didn’t want to lock Y/N down, he was just... Aaaah! Police officer is a dangerous job and... No, it’s not because she’s a woman, God! He had been raised by Mrs. Holmes, remember? And he lived under Mrs. Hudson’s roof, how could he not know women are as strong as men (and maybe stronger, it wasn’t the point, so he didn’t care)? Don’t be ridiculous... What was his point, again? Ah, yes, the possessive side he had discovered the night Y/N moved in could hardly bear to know her in danger and not being with her to help and protect her (even if she didn’t need to be protect, sometimes it’s nice to be protected, ok? And... Not the freaking point!). Sherlock knew very well his behaviour wasn’t worthy of a gentleman, but he couldn’t help himself and kept finding stupid excuse after stupid excuse to not clear Y/N’s room.

But he was starting to run out of ideas, both for postpone household and for good reasons to not feel guilty about the disappointed looks Mrs. Hudson sent him on a daily basis. Y/N had suggested tidying the room herself, she had asked nicely, she had given him the cold shoulder, but nothing had worked, he had kept telling her he would do it. He had even used of his charm on her, playing lively tunes with his violin to make her smile and stop her from being angry at him. It had worked, maybe a little too well because she had started to dance around the living room and Sherlock hadn’t been sure about who was charming who anymore...

Sherlock knew he had to find a solution to keep Y/N around him which didn’t involve her sleeping on the couch, the faster the better, he was thinking very hard about it, his efforts renewed by the twinge in his stomach when he had come across the empty living room, when he entered his bedroom to discover Y/N asleep in his bed. To say he wasn’t expecting that would have been an enormous understatement, but he felt something deep inside him curl in satisfaction. Exactly. Yes, it was the very exact solution to everything. It was absolutely perfect, it was... Too much for him to handle all at once, as wonderful as it was. Sherlock was ready to make a beeline to the bathroom to get a grip on his feelings, the hand on the doorknob when a groan startled him: “Walk out that door and we’re through”.

Crap...

oOo

The week had been a hard one, Y/N was totally exhausted. She extracted herself from her nest of blankets and pillows to face the stunned detective, too tired to be ashamed of the shorts and the baggy t-shirt she was wearing as bed clothes, and, pointing an accusing digit at him, rasped “You have two solutions: either you immediately go clear my bedroom or you tell me you don’t want to live with me already and I’ll be gone in an hour, but I won’t spend the rest of my career sleeping on your couch. And, since you seemed unable to shoulder your responsibilities, I claim your bed as mine until my bedroom is ready. This is non-negotiable.”

And say that Sherlocked was feeling overwhelmed when he had opened his bedroom door... He could accurately perceive the warmth emanating from Y/N’s body and almost feel the softness of her worn-out t-shirt under his fingers. It seemed he wouldn’t have to find a solution himself, afterwards, Y/N had given him one on a silver plate. Listening to his bravery only, Sherlock just rounded the bed, getting rid of his suit jacket and toeing out of his shoes, to creep in the nest of softness and cosiness from the side of the bed Y/N wasn’t occupying. To answer to the silent question Y/N’s wide eyes were asking him, he just said, from his comfortable spot, “Why would I do such stupid things when you’re exactly where I have always wanted you?”

Kneeling on the bed, Y/N throw him a look full of disbelief. “Why... And you couldn’t tell me?” Sherlock answered with the simple, bare honesty only him could exercise “No. If I had been able to voice it, I would certainly never make you sleep on the couch for so long.” Y/N laughed and went back under the blankets, only to find herself immediately wrapped in Sherlock’s embrace. Home is not a place, it’s a feeling.

Alexithymia (n.): the inability to express your feelings.

***

Thanks for reading <3

[historytaker]

King Versus King

Within the first quarter of the 14th century, it would be forgivable to let the king of England seem profoundly on top of the world. The setbacks of his father, Edward II, were crudely mended by his mother, Isabella.  England was swelling with military, political, and thereby economic success; So much so that the population had inflated to 4 million. Equally important to the crown, Edward II had a legitimate claim to the French crown. The Capetian dynasty was a long standing rival in European politics with the Plantagenets. The Plantagenets  out-bred and out-wed the Capetians, ultimately.  What’s more, the long time enemy of the English, the Scottish, had little affinity for their king, David II. To add to the seemingly charmed hand of state, when David II was struck in the head with an arrow and duly kidnapped by the English, the Scottish refused to pay a king’s ransom and had all but formally announced fealty to Edward II. This Plantagenet wore the crown of three kingdoms and ushered in an era of chivalry, fantasy, success, opulence and unrequited love for the dynasty overseeing an economic power that had heretofore been unprecedented in Christendom, save only for the early successes of Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry II. The king was experiencing the apogee of an age in which the old order was in solid control of the comings and goings of the world. Bishops preached in Latin. Indulgences could be paid. Wealth buffered concerns on Earth and evidently in Heaven. For, one could compel a monastery to pray for your soul with such fervency and continuity that one’s stay in purgatory would be short, and Heaven’s bliss obtained in short order. Wealth could be and was hoarded. The lord of the manor had no reason to ever assume a change in the order.

               So sustained was the monarchy in England, Edward II felt it not at all unreasonable to fashion himself a modern Arthur at Camelot. His was a kingdom of gentlemen, of knights, of righteous conviction and marshal prowess. He started the Order of the Garter and created a round table to emulate the notion that the king was first among equals. Indeed, the top of the mountain granted a glorious view. Surprisingly, the view did not grant observation of a great encroacher, indeed a devastator of many kingdoms.  In fact, this was a king in a hurry; one that intended on conquering more than England, but the world. His march may have started in the steppes of central Asia, but by 1348, some 20 years after taking the throne, Edward II England was besieged by a rival king, King Death.

               The army deployed by King Death was, of course, the plague. It is generally believed that it was transmitted by rodents carrying bubonic infested fleas.  The Mongols took their dead infested and lunged them into the city walls of the Black Sea city Caffa. From Caffa and the Genoese merchants who ported there, the disease spread. The contagion was swift. At first, and with devastating swiftness, the cities were eviscerated. The fecal matter of the fleas could be inhaled or the bites from the bugs were death sentences. If the diseases spread to the lungs, the death would take 4 agonizing days of fitful coughs. The blood-laced sputum surely spread to those near, and in its turn spread to whomever inhaled it.

               What could Edward III do in the face of such rumors of malady in his realm? At first, not much. There were murmurs of a pestilence in the world by sea-fairing traders. Their contacts in Italy described the condition, its velocity of transmission, and naturally assumptions on what devil-worshiping cult had summoned it.  There were even numbers suggesting the dead of Venice reached 100,000. Even so, it would not be until the king’s daughter succumbed to the illness in her turn.  The Infante Pedro of Castile was to marry Edward’s daughter, Joan. But by September 2, news had reached him that she was dead from the plague. And in keeping with the stoic nature of the king, he is reported to take the news by first saying, “It is as it is.” Naturally, in a rare moment of looking behind the curtain, we can prize from his correspondence with Alfonso XI a father in morning. He laments with a piety mixed with a familiar grief that Joan had “been sent ahead to heaven to reign among the choirs of virgins where she can intercede for our own offences before God himself.” He is quick to remark that Joan had been his dearest daughter and whom “we loved best of all for all her virtues demanded.”  To underscore the pang sorrow the king was enduring and to put a point to how bereft he was of a solution he states “No fellow human being could be surprised if we were inwardly desolated by the sting of this bitter grief for are human too.” Among kings, it is incredibly rare to hear such claims to human emotions.

               So what does a king do when wrecked from the inside over a new foe as this? He reaches out to the only people who can have answers for pestilence. Naturally this meant the Archbishop of Canterbury. He needed prayers especially in the southern regions of the kingdom where this seem to be emanating from.  Alas, the plague caught him too. There was no Archbishop of Canterbury to pray for the people of Kent.  And what a perturbation it must have been when men on horseback would come into the city or village speaking of apocalyptic devastations only to then find themselves one of the dozens, or hundreds, or thousands destined for the mass graves.

               Perhaps most jarring to the people, rich and poor, man and woman, young and old, was the remarkable speed at which it worked. People pieced together the transmission method soon enough that heart wrenching moments of furtive relationships occurred. Parents abandoning children, husbands abandoning wives, all watching from a distance the quick death but slow agony of those they loved.  A welsh poet Jeuan Gerthin explained what we would have noticed among those struck down with the disease, “ Woe is me of the shilling in the armpit; seething terrible wherever it may come, a head that gives pain and causes a loud cry, a burden carried beneath the arms, a painful angry knob, a white lump. It is of the form of an apple, like the head of an onion; a small boil which spares no one. Great is its seething like a burning cinder, a grievous thing of ashy colour…an ugly eruption. They are similar to the seeds of the black peas, broken fragments of brittle sea coal…a grievous ornament…the peelings of the cockle-weed, a black plague like halfpence, like berries.”

               All told, by the end of the plague, nearly half of England would be dead and buried hastily in graves. Recent excavations from the 1990’s shown just how fast and chaotic the scene must have been. Traditionally the buried were oriented toward Jerusalem to rise from their graves upon the return of Christ triumphant. The graves revealed a final statement among the buried, jaws slacked open, limbs pointed jaggedly, a frozen protestation of the inhumanity.  As the plague meandered through the realm, it upended more than health of very much alive people from just 4 days prior, it upended the conventions and structures of society.  A Franciscan monk in Ireland, John Clynn noted with a sobering view to his own reality: “ Seeing these many ills and that the whole world is encompassed by evil, waiting among the dead for death to come, I have committed to writing what I have truly heard …and so that the writing does not perish with the writer or the work fail with the workman I leave parchment for continuing it in case anyone should be alive in the future.” With the all too familiar tone of understatement in British writing, it followed with a new hand, “Here, it seems, the author died.”

Who do the people go to if the king cannot save them? Who do they direct their frustration and hate to if the benevolent God in heaven is not manifesting through the sermons of the priest? How do people receive Christ for that matter now that there are no more priest to speak on their behalf to God? There were no bakers to bake bread, no physics to make med, no priest to receive the dead. Out of the uncertainty of the moment, truly inspired homespun remedies made the rounds. Whether by trial and error or willing a remedy, one potion is passed down to us by a herbalist; giving us a glimpse at the heavy ask but thoughtful response to what was by then considered a disease due to miasma or noxious air. It logically implies then that good smelling things were a kind of remedy. “If it be a man take five cups of rue, and if it be a woman leave out the rue, five little blades of columbine, a great quantity of marigold flowers, an egg, fresh laid, and make a hole in one end and blow out all that is within, and lay it to the fire and roast it till ground to powder but do not burn it, and take a good quantity of treacle and brew all these herbs with good ale but do not strain them – and make the sick drink it for three evenings and mornings. If they hold it in their stomach, they shall have life.”

               The booming 4 million population at the outset of the plague were still 90% agrarian. Among those who worked the land, few actually owned their parcel. And increasingly the population was fighting for a smaller and smaller share of land to fashion subsistence for themselves and their families. The plague, in some respects served as a pressure valve. But the correction was too sudden to accommodate the economic structure of England.

               The homes of the people, largely field laborers, lived in modest lime-washed structures made of wood felled from the local forest, with dirt floors. To add to the ambiance of the abode, the owners would have strewn loose straw on the ground mostly to collect the refuse of the fields and manure on their feet. The toiling masses did not have much to begin with. The world around them was hard enough before the plague, but with the plague came a psychological and physical damage that could scarcely be comprehended. Whole villages died. Naturally, the economy collapsed. Out of this collapse came the evolution of manorial economics to cash economics.  It would no longer due for the workers to simply work for a subsistence and get whatever graces the lord granted. Work needed to be done, the obligations of the lord still needed to be met, but he now had a shortage in labor. His laborers were demanding, with a level of self awareness scarcely granted to them, that the new economic reality was on the worker’s side now.

               Out of the plague did spur an opportunity for toiling folk to rise out of poverties oblivion. It was not fast, nor necessarily in one life-time. Sometimes it took generations, but generations as opposed to never at all, the working poor did have a chance. And it was this seeming conspiracy of the cosmos to upend all the structures that held the people together, their faith in the government, their financial inability to resist the rules or rulers, the unquestioning certainty on matters of God, death, hell and heaven by the priesthood, all went out the window. From the necessity of laypeople having to fill roles that were utterly foreign to their station came a new sense of capability to people who never otherwise would have ventured to change. Unwritten rules governing the village went to the wayside as power was exercised often by those who were in a position to exploit it. Meanwhile, Edward III was aging and his son and heir apparent, Edward the Black Prince, died leaving the succession in untenable uncertainty.

               Inevitably the old king died and that left government in the hands of a 10 year old, Richard II. Grant it, everyone that was anyone knew that power ultimately laid in the hands of John of Gaunt, Richard’s uncle and protector.  In fact, you might compare John of Gaunt to any of our modern day monopolist or business giants like Jeff Bezos. His wealth and holdings and influence could rival a king’s and in many cases did. Even so, the Lancaster stayed behind the scenes and guided the young Plantagenet through his early years.  Richard took to the role of king rather quickly, it seemed. His vows and all the mystique surrounding the trappings of monarchy went to his head. In the early years of his boyhood, perhaps with the structure of fixers behind the scenes, it proved useful and life saving. In time it would be his undoing. Nonetheless, the boy regent was pitted against one of the biggest moments in his career when, at last, a popular uprising threatened to upend government.

               If, as John Wycliffe supposed, people could find Christ in their own way free from the needs of the priesthood, this supposition unfettered the people from strict forms of social control or engineering. For as it was, finding Christ and following him meant a steady hand towards an egalitarian model. What concessions were made in the in-between years of the start of the plague and Richard’s reign were in-part at risk by the policies enacted by John of Gaunt. The toiling folk had definitively climbed the social ladder into the ranks of yeomen. They were solidly middle class, to borrow a later colloquialism.  By their estimation the government was keeping them suppressed and squeezing them for revenues they earned no thanks to the laxed reactions of government.  So it was no surprise that what began first as tax dodging by the villagers by shrinking into the forest soon bloomed into open hostility at the tax collectors or strongmen the king or lord would send. The usual deferential English country yokels were becoming intransigent. Dodging taxes soon became the least of it. The village leaders started violent reactions in the form of collecting the heads of those attempting to collect dues. The so-called Peasants revolt began this way. Not with a written manifesto, but with the gumption of survivors, social climbers, and increasingly self-indoctrinated Christians who took for themselves what bits they could of the point of Christ.

               The leaders, in part self ascribed and in others acclaimed to, were primarily Watt Tyler and John Ball. Who was Watt Tyler? Tyler was a charismatic man who was imprisoned for not having the money to buy his manumission. In the New Jerusalem being created in real-time, who could be a better general for this lot of revolters in the service of God and King Richard? The imprisoned Watt Tyler. John Ball for his part understood the egalitarian nature of Christ message. Our riches were not for this world but for our home in heaven. It followed then that the ostentatious life of the bishops was something to disdain and use as proof that these were not shepherds of men for Christ, but shepherds of evil and wickedness for earthly possessions. John Ball was the only bishop the people would need. He was one of them and would remain so. The movement was not to overthrow the king. Instead, with a fatal sense of deference for power and monarchy, the movement sought to save the king from his uncle and all bad advisors surrounding him. They, naturally, would save the king and advise him.

               The conflagration congregation indeed set fire to Gaunt’s holdings.  Richard beheld a terrible site. The skyline of London was ember red in the evening the group made it to the city gates. The leverage was on the side of the “peasants,” but they fully went the whole way. To his credit, Richard agrees at the age of 14 to ride out to meet them. Tyler asks and evidently receives in word the concessions of ostensibly a new kingdom with a Magna Carta written and affirmed for the common people. The overreaching by such low born and the ability to get a king to capitulate was evidently enough to drive one of the king’s retainers mad. Watt Tyler was sliced down and murdered on the spot.

               In a glorious sense of theatrics and prudent wherewithal, to allay the fears and ire of the crowd Richard rides out to them in a life-saving vague claim, “You shall have no captain but me.” It did the trick and bought the king and the other frightened aristocrats time to cut down the people one by one. The devastation was total. Upon retrieving the upperhand, when asked again by impertinent lowborn to be received as a king for them, Richard remarks with Plantagenet fury “You wretches, detestable on land and sea; you who seek equality with lords are unworthy to live. Give this message to your colleagues. Rustics you were and rustics you are still: you will remain in bondage not as before but incomparably harsher. For as long as we live we will strive to suppress you, and your misery will be an example in the eyes of posterity. However we will spare your lives in you remain faithful. Choose now which course you want to follow.”

               Evidently it worked. Richard was able to stymie the ferocity of a new social order ready to explode. Regardless if the upstarts were successful or unsuccessful, things had changed. While the plague took a century to run its course, and the slow death rattles of a dying dynasty took 100 years to finalize, and while it took 100 years for a modern sense of Englishness to take hold geographically as well as politically, the plague did bookend an epoch in the organization of labor, ideas, currency, and governance. And as with all moments of crisis and collapse, a germ of creativity can sprout into the first tree within a mighty forest of new possibilities. King Death then was the equalizer. Ultimately, it was that equality and need for it that had been festering for years before Edward’s reign even. It just took a different king to make the way and speed up the process, in this case, by necessity.

[holylulusworld]

A fresh start (5) - First dates

Summary: The world is safe. Thanos is gone. What now?

Pairing: Post-Endgame!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, plus-sized reader, virgin reader, virgin Steve Rogers, fluff, falling in love, date time, talk about sex

A/N: Please consider I don’t care about the timeline of Endgame. 

Written for my 16.666 followers celebration. Requested by @elle14-blog1

Catch up here: A fresh start (4) - Three men and a baker

A fresh start masterlist

16.666 followers ‘16 days of requests’ celebration

Thanos was gone. His friends were back. He found the love of his life.

Steve Rogers suddenly had it all. And yet, he was a nervous wreck standing in front of the mirror in a too-fancy boutique to look at himself in a brand-new suit.

“That’s a very nice suit,” Sam looked Steve up and down, hiding the smirk wanting to creep on his face.

“It looks ridiculous,” Bucky laughed. “Steve, the suit is too tight.” He patted Steve’s chest. “If you breathe too hard, it will burst open. The buttons will fly in all directions and kill Y/N.”

 “Buck!” Steve gasped audibly. “I wanted you to help me find a suit. Stop making me nervous. I want our first date to be…perfect.”

“Wait…didn’t you have dates with Y/N before?” Sam cocked a brow. “You said you went out for dinner and coffee.”

“We had dinner and ate cake together. But…but this is going to be the date, you know,” Steve nervously stammered. “I want to ask her to be my …”

“Wife?” Bucky gasped. “I’m going to be your best man, right? Wait, let me get a suit too. I need a matching tie…hmmm.” He looked around the boutique. “Do you think I can bring my cat too? I’ll get Alpine something nice to wear.”

Steve shook his head. “I meant girlfriend.”

“Why ask her to be your girlfriend if you can make her your wife,” Bucky argued. He would do anything to see his best friend happy. “You said it yourself; Y/N is the one you’ve been waiting for.”

“Bucky is not wrong,” Sam jumped in. “You said it yourself. Y/N is the one. We could help you with the proposal and all.”

“I imagined our future more than once. Y/N will be my wife one day, I know it…or at least I hope so. But it’s too soon to ask her to marry me. I want to show her that I’m the man of her life too.”

Bucky sighed. “Fine, no wedding invitation for me and Alpine then.”

“If I ask Y/N to marry me one day, you’ll get an invitation. Both of you,” Steve looked at Bucky and then at Sam. “You’ll be both my best men.”

Sam and Bucky grinned. They formed a plan to help Steve plan the perfect first date to make sure they’re going to be Steve’s best men one day…

“Sex is great,” Sam began. “If you are both ready, it will be even better. Consent is the key, Steve. If a woman feels safe and loved around you, she’ll let herself fall and give herself to you.”

“We could talk about toys too,” Bucky grinned. “Punk, you should have a look at a few websites.”

“Buck, I want to make sweet love to Y/N, not use toys on her,” Steve wrinkled his nose. He stumbled over one or two websites while trying to get used to the world he’s living in now. Steve didn’t like what he saw, though. “I don’t like this kind of stuff.”

“Toys can be fun,” Sam hastily said. “You can play with them and find out what you both like. Women like to explore their sexuality too, my friend. Start slow with kissing and cuddling. Soft touches. Oh, and some women like it when you nip at their neck.”

“I don’t want to have sex during our first real date,” Steve grumbled. “I only want to know the basics to be prepared. You know…if the time comes.”

“Don’t worry, punk,” Bucky patted Steve’s shoulder. “We’re going to show you the ropes. You will make the sweetest love to your girl in no time…”

“Steve, relax,” you softly said as Steve was pacing around your living room. He was a nervous wreck and you had to gently grab his wrist to stop him from ruining your carpet. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Did you enjoy the date? Did you like the restaurant? Sam said it’s a perfect place for a first date,” Steve stammered. He felt like the young, weakling from back then when he looked at you.

“Stevie, it was a perfect first date,” you softly said and smiled. “I couldn’t be happier. The food was great, and the company was even better. I enjoyed every moment.”

“Good…that’s good,” he released a shuddery breath and visibly relaxed. “I wanted to talk about something with you, doll.”

“How about we sit on my couch and talk, Stevie?” You guided Steve toward the couch and sat down to lean your head against his shoulder. “What do you want to tell me?”

“I…this is hard to explain. I mean…I don’t want you to think that I’m…I don’t know, a loser.”

You gasped. “Steve, I would never do such a thing. You’re a hero and a wonderful man. Whatever you want to tell me, just say it. I won’t judge you.”

“I…I’m a virgin,” he blurted and clasped one hand over his mouth. You looked at him for a moment, and he feared you’d pull away or laugh about him.

“Oh, thank goodness,” you pounced on Steve to wrap your arms around his neck. You sighed and hid your face in his neck. “I’m a virgin too, Stevie…”

Tags in reblog.

[thesinglesjukebox]

THE HIGHWOMEN - REDESIGNING WOMEN

[5.30]

And yet they couldn't get Delta Burke to do a cameo in the video...

Joshua Lu: The Highwomen should, in theory, be a triumph for country music, at the very least because of the four amazing artists involved: Natalie Hemby (songwriter who's penned works for artists like Miranda Lambert, Kacey Musgraves and... Nelly Furtado?), Amanda Shires (singer/songwriter/violinist with six solo albums to her name), Brandi Carlile (responsible for one of the best albums of 2018 and for several other excellent ones) and Maren Morris (renowned hitmaker who recently sent "Girl" to #1 on the country airplay charts). Why, then, does "Redesigning Women" fail to muster the magic any one of the artists could deliver on her own? Vocally, the four of them blend together into each far too much; only Brandi's vocals ring distinctly, leaving the other three acting as part of her backdrop, including Maren, whose particularly potent pipes I shouldn't struggle to pinpoint. Lyrically, it's filled with signifiers for traditional vs. modern female roles, with requisite mentions of babies, the kitchen and hair dye, which make for evocative imagery but don't make for any meaningful message other than... that women's roles have evolved over time? It's too comfortable just describing the current state of affairs instead of demanding something more, and I'm left wondering what a listener is supposed to take away when the last guitar chord fades away. [4]

Michael Hong: The supergroup should involve a group of artists who know their strengths and weaknesses well enough that they're able to cover each other's weaknesses and emphasize their strengths in a way that wouldn't be possible as solo artists. The Pistol Annies worked so well on Interstate Gospel, not only because of the trio's harmonies, but also in the way that each artist brought something as a writer, like Monroe injecting some of her trademark dry humour into Lambert and Presley's wickedly smart small-town life observations. It comes as a confusing surprise then that across The Highwomen, less than half of all tracks are writing collaborations between the women, with Natalie Hemby being the sole member credited with writing their first outing. While Hemby has established herself as a great songwriter in Nashville, her strength was in the charming intimacy of her hushed vocals and finger-plucked guitar, but her own writing was hindered by her reliance on traditionalism that occasionally veered into cheesy nostalgia. "Redesigning Women" lacks the personal charm of Hemby's solo music and allows Hemby's penchant for cheesy traditionalism to seep through on awkward lines like "running the world while we're cleaning up the kitchen" and "changing our minds like we change our hair color." Confusingly, the track pushes this narrative where women have control, so long as they continue to provide in the more "traditional" gender roles. It makes for the track appearing to be a female empowerment anthem on first glance, but ending up being more outdated and restrictive, akin to Maren Morris's GIRL. Without the voices of Carlile, Morris, and Shires as writers, The Highwomen fall flat as a supergroup. While the four do sound pleasant across the track, pleasant just doesn't feel like enough on a track titled "Redesigning Women," which ultimately falls flat as another version of female empowerment written by the current Nashville songwriter du jour. [4]

Alex Clifton: In general feminist Americana/folk/country plays well with me, but where "Redesigning Women" gets really good is when all four women sing the title line. I hear so many older country superstars in their harmonies -- I could swear Dolly is in there singing along with them -- and it's a revelation. The lyrics are pretty good too, giving a light touch with lines like "breaking the jello mould" while still delivering a sincere message. The thing I have always liked about classic country is its strength, the confidence of the sliding guitars and banjos, how the singers sing out and loud, how even when there are quieter moments you still remain on solid ground. "Redesigning Women" does that while returning to an older sound that feels so rare these days, all the while making it fresh and glorious to hear. [8]

Alfred Soto: Shtickier and less distinctive than expected, "Redesigning Women" hews to a pattern -- a Jell-O mold? -- that acknowledges no middle ground between saints and surgeons; someone else, after all, a man, makes a woman a saint. It survives because Brandi Carlile, Maren Morris and Amanda Shires harmonize with the ease of women who understand how doing a job well is too often not reward enough. [6]

Jackie Powell: This song is an anthem and after my first listen, I didn't think I'd ever come to that conclusion. Country music for me is polarizing. But, each member of this quartet is Grammy-nominated in their own right and is enduring massive individual success. So why now for The Highwomen? "Redesigning Women" and the entire project coming from these four is selfless in nature. On CBS Morning before their debut at the Newport Folk Festival, Carlile referred to it as "a movement" rather than "a band." And the lyrical choices on this track are mostly consistent with that analysis. A goal is to inspire and that's admirable. Although I'll be frank, the first verse annoyed me; it reminded me of Girl Scout campfire songs. The chorus, however, is where The Highwomen shine. Each voice is heard, unlike the verses, and layered to provide a vocal texture that juxtaposes the nasal one you hear at the top of the song. I'm a sucker for alliteration and Hemby's serves as the best phrases in the entire song. But I don't love some of the female stereotypes referenced. Can we please move away from this idea that women almost always "need to look good," "clean the kitchen" or feel pressured to "feed the baby"? The Highwomen redeem themselves on the bridge which offers a call and response to a question that all who identify as female can relate to. Womanhood isn't black and white. There isn't a formula and if there is, then maybe you are doing it all wrong. The Highwomen have a broader audience than they think. I hope they take advantage of it as they continue to tell the stories of those who have redesigned and redefined their own womanhood. [6]

Joshua Copperman: The Highwomen have an interesting idea here -- "Running the world while we're cleaning up the kitchen" is clunky but appears to speculate that while gender roles are changing for women, men aren't meeting that change halfway. So you have podcasts asking if Women Can Have It All, and entire empires built on the Plight of the Working Woman -- in this song, the progress society has made (lol) indicates that "traditional women" take on all the responsibilities and nothing has gotten easier, let alone more equal. It's a thought-provoking message, but the rest is delivered in a surprisingly corny fashion from four women that, as far as I know, have either evaded or embraced corniness. This project could be a midpoint between Case/Lang/Veirs and Bridgers/Baker/Dacus, but the monotonous verses only bring to mind "Children of The Future" in their presentation and messaging. Maybe it's because up to this point, I've presented and lived in the world as a cis straight male (regardless of my actual orientation or gender identity). But no matter how I present myself, I know for a fact that all parties involved have done better, and this is deeply underwhelming. [4]

Iris Xie: A title like "Redesigning Women" begs something a lot more radical, maybe even jumping on the whole cyberpunk/anthropocene/post-apocalyptic aesthetic. But no, we get a song that is emblematic of conservative, tired, "choice" feminism. Why is buying 11 pairs of shoes considered moving progress forward? Why is a song about the fatigue in women's gender roles lacking so much anger? Why does this sonically sound like a swallowed deference? "Redesigning Women" upsets me, because it's like the time when I was a kid and asked older women if they've ever heard what feminism and seeing them wrinkle their noses at it and be offended at my question, and when I asked DC immigration lobbyists if they've ever experienced sexism or discrimination in their work and they stared at me because they didn't know how to answer the question. It made me feel so confused in those moments, and realizing how effective obfuscation is in separating and talking about the ways oppressive systems function, and how we ourselves can be extremely complicit in perpetuating them while also surviving them. "Redesigning Women" is meant as a touch-and-go balm as an acknowledgment of life's hardships, but without providing any solutions other than "let's make the best of it, you aren't the only one suffering," which is the only time that collectivism seems to raise its head in this individualist capitalist society, for the moment you start complaining, you aren't doing your part in your Dream. Bioessentialism and gender roles aside, this is a song that puts forth several arguments that The Highwomen and any other women just living their lives is redefining the roles of women. The imagery in "Making bank, shaking hands, driving 80 / Tryna get home just to feed the baby" is wonderfully succinct, and pretty much wraps up why life underneath capitalism absolutely sucks, whether you are or are not able to access that life. The rest of the examples -- such as "breaking every jello mold" and "When we love someone we take 'em to Heaven / And if the shoe fits, we're gonna buy 11" -- mix relatable, down-home metaphors with ones that wouldn't be out of place when it comes to simple desires to be a little too much, to be a little more ostentatious and a little less modest and "for the family!", where your every move as a woman is judged harshly. The bridge itself hearkens to a place of moral simplicity, with "How do we do it? How do we do it? / Making it up as we go along / How do we do it? How do we do it? / Half way right and half way wrong," that seems so innocent and very "we can do it!" But in reality, who is the target audience for this? It's for the women with families and jobs, and for those single femmes (like me!) who are conscientious of those future realities, who are all trying to keep these impossible lives and demands afloat in this disaster called late crisis capitalism. This is supposed to be soothing and reminds me that we're "all in this together," but it honestly kind of hurts to listen to this song. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: Designing Women is a relic of the '80s-'90s deadzone, and though it's getting rebooted and reconstituted, and was just rerun on Hulu (if you even knew), it is no longer a cultural touchstone, let alone enough of one to effectively snowclone. Jell-O molds reside in questionable '70s cookbooks and not modern kitchens, even in the South. Rosie the Riveter predates even the '50s. Nothing about this, from fusty lyrics to fustier vocals to women-are-fickle-but-good-fickle feminism, suggests it was written in the 21st century, let alone by "Country's Ballsiest New Supergroup." Who is this for? The kids are listening to Kacey Musgraves and Lil Nas X. The grownups are listening to country artists -- including some of the solo Highwomen, probably -- whose songs sound like they're inhabited by real people, not the speechwriters for corporate retreats. Industry folks are undoubtedly listening to this out of pent-up goodwill, which would be better directed toward commissioning repertoire that doesn't sound like it'd be dated in 1989. Extra point because at least it's responsible for the best thing Dierks Bentley has ever recorded. [2]

Stephen Eisermann: The idiot members of the Deplorable Choir have been all over my Twitter feed this week, so much so that I almost doubted if I ever wanted to listen to women of country collaborate for a track. I'm so pissed this song didn't show up immediately after I first saw that horrendous performance because this track, with its rich harmonies and empowering lyrics, elevates country music in a way that melts the iciness that has developed around my heart in recent years. These are the women that are leading and should continue to lead us into the future. [8]

Thomas Inskeep: Better in theory than in practice, mainly because the song's lyrics are just the slightest bit kitschy. But goddamn if Brandi Carlile, Natalie Hemby, Maren Morris, and Amanda Shires don't sound great together, and are given perfect country production by Dave Cobb. Even though I wish I liked "Redesigning Women" a little more, it still whets my appetite for their debut album, because I know there's even better to come. [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[imaginedilestrade]

Could you please write some more x reader stuff?

A/N: This was so lovely to write 😭❤️

——————————

You squinted your eyes and let out a groan seeing ‘4:07’ flashing across your alarm. The noises coming from the living room was enough to wake you and with a huff, you climbed out of your bed. “What’s going on?” You grumbled.

“Sorry Y/N…” John whispered “Rosie’s been up all night.”

You couldn’t be angry at that “Have you gotten any sleep tonight? At all?” John shook his head and you held out your arms “Go get some sleep, I’ll watch her for a while.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, already halfway handing over the little girl.

“Yeah I don’t mind!”

John thanked you a dozen times as you cradled Rosie in your arms “You’re so much nicer than your brother…” John uttered and you couldn’t help but smile “He’d sleep though anything.”

“Once Sherlocks out, he’s out. I once drew all over his face with a permanent marker whilst he was sleeping. Got grounded for a week but it was worth it!” You shared a laugh with John before he retired to his bed. You sat up with Rosie reading her stories and made her some breakfast. It was now almost 11 and the boys were still fast asleep. Rosie was full of energy, you wondered where the two year old got it from.

The door opened and you glanced up while playfully bouncing Rosie on your knee “Morning Greg,” you smiled.

“Morning Y/N, morning Rosie!” He cooed at the little girl, walking over to tickle her cheeks. You couldn’t help but look up to the detective who was inches in front of your face “What are you up to today?” He asked and glanced up, your noses practically touching before he pulled back with flushed cheeks.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat “I don’t really know. I might take Rosie to the park for a few hours to give John some respite, poor man deserves a break. It’s not easy raising her on his own.” You pressed a kiss to the little girls head and Greg could feel his heart starting to beat irregularly.

“I’ll come with you if you want? That’s if you don’t mind the company…” he nervously chuckled and scratched the back of his head.

“Sure! I’d love that!” You said a little too enthusiastically “Could you watch her for a minute and I’ll get changed into something more decent than pyjamas!” Greg happily took her from your hold and you quickly changed, grabbed Rosie’s changing bag and scribbled a note for John, telling him you were out at the park with Rosie and Greg.

“Ready?” You asked Greg and he had to take a double take as his jaw dropped open seeing you in a beautiful, bright sundress that matched your hair perfectly.

“Ye-yeah…” Greg dreamily breathed out with a smile. You took Rosie from him and he grabbed the pram.

—

“Do you need some help?” You asked stifling a giggle as Greg fought with the pram, trying to set it up in the middle of Baker Street.

“No I’ll get it…” he huffed out “People make this look so easy!”

“Well,” you smiled “You haven’t really had much practice with one have you? This must be your first time assembling one, right?”

Greg looked up to you as he was trying to push a bar bit down “Yeah…yeah it is. You give it a try.”

He stood up and you placed Rosie on your hip. A few clicks later it was up “How did you do that?!” He asked, amazed. You stood up with a proud smile and shrugged.

“Guess that’s the Holmes in me coming out,” you bent down and placed Rosie in with a content smile “Let’s go!”

—

“Don’t tell John I got her an ice cream. He’ll kill me!” You laughed and watched as the little girl devoured it with a wide smile “She’ll be super hyper.”

“My lips are sealed,” Greg smiled and bumped knees with you “You’re really good with her, Y/N. I hope I’m not being to bold in saying but have you ever considered-”

You knew where he was going and cut him off “I have,” you sadly smiled “but no one has stayed with me long enough! Probably because of my overbearing brothers and insane sister!” You halfheartedly laughed. “I think my mother would be over the moon if, and when, I settle down. Sherlock and Mycroft would have a field day tormenting who I end up with.”

Greg nodded his head slowly, gulping away his nerves as best he could. Just when he thought he had got them under control a clacking noise coming from a pair of perfectly polished shoes stood in front of you both.

“Oh hello Myc…didn’t think I’d see you in a public space. Ever.” You teased with a playful snort.

“Y/N I would appreciate it if you would call me by my full name…” Mycroft sneered slightly. “What are you two doing?” He asked glaring mostly at Greg with a knowing look.

“We’re knitting a blanket,” you sarcastically retorted “What does it look like we’re doing? I swear Mycroft, Sherlock’s becoming smarter than you these days.”

“Don’t you are say that Y/N…” Mycroft warned. You rolled your eyes and looked over to Rosie who was covered in ice cream.

You let out a sigh and stood up “I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll take her to the toilets and clean her up.” You pushed the pram away from the two men and Greg instantly felt Mycroft’s deadly glare on him.

“If you hurt her, I will be in contact with a multitude of people who will certainly hurt you…” Greg gulped and nodded “But if it’s any constellation I’m glad it’s you that has taken an interest in Y/N. You might be surprised to know she returns the same feelings despite the lack of telling you so.”

Before Greg could hound Mycroft with questions you returned with a fresh faced Rosie “If he’s bothering you Greg just do what I do and tell him to fuck off.” Greg struggled to hold back a laugh.

Mycroft disapprovingly tutted “Do you always have to use such vulgar language?”

“What would you rather I say? Fuck off you fucking fuck? Would you rather I say that?” You asked and Greg burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles, tears were streaming down his face.

“Mother would be so disappointed…” Mycroft trailed off, rolling his eyes.

“I know she would,” you shrugged “But dad wouldn’t. We should be off, see you later Mycroft. Say bye Rosie!” You encouraged the little girl who babbled out what almost sounded like ‘bye’. As the three of you walked away, Mycroft’s ice cold expression cracked and he couldn’t help but smile at the three of you.

—

“Are you kidding me?!” You quietly snapped “Those two are still sleeping! Can you believe that?!” You groaned and switched Rosie from one hip to the other “I’ll keep her in my room for a little while and read to her.”

“I can stay if you want?” Greg rushed after you and you turned on your heel with a surprised look on your face at his outburst “That’s if you want me to?”

You bashfully smiled and nodded at the DI. He grabbed a handful of books and you sat Rosie on your bed, sitting her to face both you and Greg. “What will we read first?” You asked.

“How about,” Greg held out 'The Gingerbread Man’ “This one?” You nodded and opened the book, accidentally colliding your fingers with Greg’s. You both nervously smiled and cleared your throats before starting to read the story.

Rosie soon crashed out on your bed and you placed your head on Greg’s shoulder, he was drifting off to sleep too, as well as yourself. It had been a long day. Your eyes quickly fluttered before shutting over completely.

When you woke it was dark and quickly sat upright noticing Rosie was missing. “It’s alright!” A voice by your side eased you “John took her when he woke up.”

“Oh,” you breathed out and lay back down, crashing the back of your neck against Greg’s forearm. You turned to him with a smile “You stayed.”

“I’ll stay for as long as you want…” he softly whispered and your mouth gaped open slightly when realisation set in. You gently cupped his face and pressed a delicate kiss to his lips.

You pulled back and rested your face on his “Forever…?” You asked.

Greg smirked and nodded before leaning in for another kiss.

[imagine-by-susu]

The Case of the Phantom Part 7

A/N: Oh god guys I’m so sorry for the long wait but work was hell and I got my drivesrs license a few days ago so there wasn’t much time to update but here is a new chapter. GIF IS NOT MINE!

Requests are open! List of Fandoms

Word Count: 1.494

Keywords:

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) = Your Name Your Last Name (Y/H/S) = Your Hair Style (Y/H/L) = Your Hair Legnth (Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color (Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color

Preview Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

________________________________________________________________

- Back in 1929 - Ereena told Rosie everything, she was told by (Y/N) through letters. „Who could have known that it would end so bad?“ she muttered and John gave a sad smile still clenching the pressures Music Box. „I kept in contact with her through letters. I still have them well kept in a box under my bed, they mean a lot to me.“ and Rosie smiled at that. This was a friendship for a lifetime, she thought. „And as promised, I got to be the bridesmaid.“ Ereena smiled at the memory. Rosie looked up. „So, Uncle Sherlock did get married! That lair.“ She remembered when she was little, that she had asked her Uncle, if he would ever get married but he said ‚I‘m married to my work.‘ Every time she would ask him. Ereena looked into the green eyes of Rosie and explained „Not many knew that they were married. It was still wonderful day back then. I never saw (Y/N) so happy.“ John laughed a little „And I never saw Sherlock that nervous.“ The memories let both of the older people laugh a little. After a little while, they approached a cemetery. „Why are we here?“ Rosie asked astonished but she didn‘t received any answer, so she just followed her Father and Ereena to one particular gravestone that held the name ‚(Y/N) Holmes‘ and the birth date (Y/B/D) and as the death date the 30th October 1896. So today 35 years ago. Rosies eyes went wide and got tears in them as her Father placed the Music Box on the grave. It was silent. Only the cold wind blew through the hairs of the reminding people. Ereena dried her tears with the tissue Rosie gave her. „What...happened to her?“ Rosie asked carefully, not to open any wounds. Ereen looked her in the eyes. „He got her Rosie.“ John gasped and everyone looked at him. „Papa!“ Rosie panicked. „Are you okay?“ John only pointed to a Rose on the grave. A beautiful, fresh red rose with a black ribbon tied around the stalk. „He is still following her.“ Ereena whispered. - London, 1889 - After the events that took place in Paris, Sherlock immediately went back to London, together with John and (Y/N). Without any goodbyes, they just left as if they weren‘t there at all. The Opera House, now laid down in ashes due to the fallen Chandelier that held candles to enlighten the room. A lot of people died on that date. This accident got famous as the ‚The Phantom of the Opera‘. A lot of newspapers reported it and it was not just local in Paris, but around the World people talked about this scenario in Paris. Sherlock, John and (Y/N) arrived in London quicker than expected and got into a carriage, that would lead them to Baker Street. „I can‘t believe I‘m back in London.“ (Y/N) said, as she looked out the window and looked at the busy streets of England. Sherlock took her hand in his and she looked up to him. „You‘re finally free.“ he said and kissed her hand. A little blush appeared on the (Y/S/C) cheek of the Woman beside the Detective. John smiled at the sight of the two, happy for his friend to finally found someone, who he could share his life with. Than the trio arrived at Baker Street. An old woman greeted them with a worried expression. „Good God. Sherlock, Mr. Watson, are you alright? I heard what happened in Paris... “ Sherlock stopped the Landlady from rumbling as he mentioned to (Y/N), who just smiled shyly. „Oh dear, you must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You poor thing. Welcome to Baker Street. I‘m Mrs. Hudson the Landlady.“ she introduced herself with a motherly hug. A bit taken a back, (Y/N) looked to Sherlock who just nodded and the (Y/H/C) returned the hug. „Great to meet you Mrs. Hudson.“ With that, the Landlady led the three of them into the house, where she prepared Tea. In the living room sat a woman with blond hair, arms crossed, apparently awaiting someone. „Mary.“ John announced and the Woman ‚Mary‘ stood up. „John“ she said and hugged him. „You‘re fine. Thank god.“ Sherlock lend down to (Y/N)s ear and whispered „Mary Watson. Johns wife.“ (Y/N) smiled and nodded and as if on cue, the blond lady looked to Sherlock and (Y/N). „A new Face.“ She then took (Y/N)s hand and shook it. „Mary Watson.“ she interduced „(Y/N) (Y/L/N)“ returned the female back. Mary's eyes went wide. „The opera singer?“ astonished that everyone in London seemed to know her, she nodded. „I heard so much of you. Friends of mine went to Paris to watch one of your performances. They highly spoke of it.“ she smiled such a sweet smile, that made (Y/N) feel like home. After a while, Mrs. Hudson come up with newly brewed tea and sat it down on the living room table, where everyone was seated around, catching up on everything that happened. „So“ Mary began, as she sipped on her tea. „Sherlock finally found someone.“ Sherlock groaned. „Why does everybody have to say that!“ and (Y/N) laughed, with a little blush on her cheeks. The Detective looked at her as she laughed and he couldn‘t stop himself, as to smile at that than he said to Mary „You are right. I found someone and I‘m not attempting on letting go.“ (Y/N) glanced at him, Mary awed at that and John had a big smile on his face. Mrs. Hudson spoke up. „And when‘s the wedding?“ Sherlock spit out his tea, right into Johns face and (Y/N) coughed up. „I didn‘t... expected that.“ Sherlock said and John replied „Yes. Me neither“ as he cleaned his face while Mary couldn‘t stop laughing. Neither of them guessed at that moment, that Mrs. Hudson question would be a real question soon. A few weeks past and (Y/N) settled in Baker Street. First it was hard. She missed Ereena and Nicoline, even Rousseau. But she kept in contact through letters and every single one she received, she kept. Reading them, every night she couldn‘t sleep. She hardly saw John anymore, because Mary told her that he was writing a new book about the Case they had in Paris and it made her curious, as to what he would write in it. Sherlock wasn‘t as pleased with it, said it was totally misleading his character and everyone thought he is a hero. But (Y/N) laughed and said „But Darling you are a hero. To me at least.“ and with that she kissed his cheek. The man just blushed a little and let the topic slide. It wasn‘t a secret anymore that the famous Sherlock Holmes, fell in love with an Opera Singer. The whole city of London was talking about it. That noticed (Y/N), when she went out to the market and looked around. She could hear women whisper and giggle as they looked at her. But it wasn‘t bad talking the Ladies did. No, the quite opposite of it and it made (Y/N) uncomfortable. So, she did the only thing she could think of. Run. And so, she did, til she arrived at a bookstore that held John newest book. It was integrated in dark blue leather and held the Golden letters ‚The Case of the Phantom by Dr. John H. Watson‘ on it. Not thinking twice, she entered the little store and was greeted by an old men with thick glasses that adorned his big nose. „Good day Milady. What can I do for you?“ he asked in polite way. (Y/N) smiled at him. „I wanted a copie of the newest book from Dr. Watson, please.“ The man smiled. „I see.“ He then took a closer look at her. A little uncomfortable with it, she stepped back. The man laughed and said „Don‘t worry I don‘t want to hurt you. You just look like the Girl Dr. Watson described as (Y/N) (Y/L/N).“ With that (Y/N) started to laugh a little. „Well…I‘m (Y/N) (Y/L/N) Monsieur.“ The thick glasses nearly felt of the nose of the man as he heard her say these words. He didn‘t expected that such a Woman would visit his little book store. With no words, he handed her the Book she requested, and she paid him. „Have a good day Monsieur.“ She smiled and he nodded. „Ehm..yes. Please visit us again, sometime Miss (Y/L/N)“ he shouted, before she left the store. When she arrived at 221b Baker Street she climbed up the stairs, greeting Mrs. Hudson in the process and then entered the living room of the flat she shared with Sherlock. But to (Y/N)s surprise Sherlock wasn‘t there, probably on a new case or visiting his brother to tell him again how much time he had left when eat the strawberry cake. Pouring herself a tea (Y/N) made her way to the couch and sat her book down and drinking a sip of the idea. Then she started to read.

[atombail7-blog]

Healthy Holiday Gift Guide

As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

The holiday season is officially here! In case you’re looking for some tried-and-true gift ideas, I thought I’d share some of my favorites with you here today.

Now, keep in mind that I tend to give practical gifts. I like to gift items that I use myself on a daily basis. Items that help make my life a little easier and more enjoyable. That’s what you’ll find in my holiday gift list below, including everything from my favorite kitchen gadgets, to helpful parenting tools, to natural beauty gifts, and more.

Best of all, you can do your holiday gift shopping from the comfort of your own home, because I tend to do almost all of it online. So, avoid the crowded malls and cuddle up in a cozy blanket while you shop!

Gifts for the Kitchen

Instant Pot. This is one of the only small appliances that has earned a permanent spot on my counter. It’s perfect for fixing fast and healthy weeknight meals! (My Fresh & Healthy Instant Pot Cookbook would be a great companion for this one.)

Ninja Coffee Bar. Austin got this for me last year, and I love it! I wanted a coffee maker that could brew a single cup of coffee without using those disposable k-cups, and this one does that! We use it to brew single cups and a whole pot of coffee, when needed.

Inspiralizer. I love turning healthy vegetables into “noodles” and this little gadget is the best spiralizer on the market. I love how securely it sticks to your countertop!

Silicone Measuring Cups. I love that these measuring cups are oven-safe and bend easily to make pouring liquids into a mixing bowl easy, without any drips. I use them for melting coconut oil in my oven on a regular basis! Perfect for an avid cook or baker.

Nutri Ninja Duo. This is the first affordable blender option I’ve tried that actually blends as well as a more high-end, high-speed blender, like the Vitamix. I think it would make a great gift for someone living in a smaller space (like an apartment or dorm room) or for someone making smoothies only for themselves.

Reusable Straw Cups. You’ve probably seen these cups a LOT on my social media feed and in my What I Ate posts. We use them every single day for our morning smoothies! They’re great for a fast breakfast on the go, or for serving kids who might spill their drinks.

Glass Straws. I love this reusable straw option! They’re elegant and make drinking your daily green smoothie a pleasure. So much more fun than using plastic straws, and less wasteful, too. (If you have kids or are worried about breakable straws, try these silicone straws instead. I have both!)

Breville Juicer. This juicer is a great introductory model for someone who wants to start juicing on a regular basis.

Le Creuset Dutch Oven or Buffet Casserole. These pots are one of the most used items in my kitchen. (I use the 5.5 quart for large batches of soup, and the buffet casserole for daily stir-fries.) I love how they can go straight from the stove top, to the oven, to my dinner table as a pretty serving dish. It’s durable to last forever, and the perfect non-toxic cooking dish.

Kyocera Ceramic Knives. I don’t have time to maintain and re-sharpen metal knives, so that’s why I love my ceramic knives. They’re insanely sharp and I don’t have to do anything to maintain them. They make prep work a breeze!

Farmhouse Pottery Mugs. I’m in love with these creamy hand-dipped mugs. Sipping my morning tea out of one makes me so happy!

Nespresso Milk Frother. This frother creates lovely foam from non-dairy milks for homemade steamed milk drinks, but I actually use it most often for re-heating coffee and tea. (It’s an easy way to skip using a microwave!)

Natural Beauty Gifts

Velvet Eyeshadow Palette (Classic) If you or someone you know wants to venture into the world of cleaner makeup products, this eyeshadow set from Beautycounter is a great place to start! It’s the best safer eye shadow I’ve ever tried, and this is the color palette I use myself every day.

Rejuvenating Night Cream. This is the moisturizer I use every night, and then I top it off with the No. 1 Brightening Oil to lock in the moisture.

Lip Gloss. I love Beautycounter’s lip gloss, and I think it makes a great stocking stuffer. I personally use the Rosewood and Fig colors the most, but the Bare Shimmer is a nice option if you want something totally neutral.

Tata Harper’s Regenerating Cleanser. I was introduced to Tata Harper’s all-natural skin care products a couple years ago, and I’ve been in love with them ever since. This cleanser has a fine exfoliator included and it smells like fresh oranges.

RMS Beauty Magic Luminizer. I use this over my makeup or on its own, for a fresh and glowy look!

Wet Brush. I honestly don’t know why this hair brush works so much better than other brushes, but it’s a miracle worker– particularly on wet hair. I have naturally curly hair, and this brush tackle any tangles with ease! I’m never using another hair brush ever again.

RMS Beauty Nail Polish. This nail polish is free of harsh chemicals and comes in several classic colors. (I have the deep red one, but I want the more taupe-looking color, too!)

Books

Fresh & Healthy Instant Pot Cookbook. My newest cookbook is perfect for people who want to make weeknight meals as EASY as possible. The recipes in this book all have a gluten-free option, and many are dairy-free and vegan friendly, too.

Everyday Detox. My first cookbook is an affordable gift to make healthy eating and cooking as easy as possible. My family still uses many of the exclusive recipes in this book on a weekly basis, and as always, I make a point not to use hard-to-find ingredients or have the recipes be too complicated. All recipes are 100% gluten-free, and many of them are vegan and paleo friendly, too.

No Excuses Detox. My second cookbook is perfect for anyone who wants to tackle their health goals, despite a busy schedule, tight budget, or picky family members. All recipes include nutrition information, price per serving, and many can be made in just 30 minutes or less! Gluten-free & vegetarian, with lots of vegan friendly recipes. 

How Not To Die Cookbook. If you’re not familiar with Dr. Gregor, he’s the brilliant doctor behind the nonprofit site NutrtionFacts.org. He’s a wealth of scientific nutrition studies, and in his new cookbook he shares vegetarian recipes to go along with his evidence-based diet approach.

Thyroid Healing. If you or someone you know is worried about their thyroid health, I think this book offers an unexpected perspective on the subject with an actionable cleanse and recipes at the end.

Eat to Live Quick & Easy Cookbook. This book is filled with oil-free vegan recipes for those who need to follow a special diet.

Love Real Food. If you’re in need of a new vegetarian cookbook, my friend Kathryne’s book is loaded with delicious options. It’s beautiful, too!

Engine 2 Diet. I love giving this book to the men in my life, because it makes eating plants a little more appealing. It’s written by a firefighter– so they won’t worry about losing their muscle mass, and there’s still plenty of food on this plan to keep them feeling satisfied!

Gifts for Parents

Squeasy Snacker Pouches. These reusable pouches are made of silicone and don’t leak! They’re so easy to use for our daily smoothies. I use the 3-ounce size for my baby, and the 6-ounce size for my toddler.

Door Monkey. If you have a toddler, this non-permanent door lock is really handy. My son likes to have his bedroom door cracked each night, and this lock keeps it cracked while also keeping the door securely in place– my 4-year-old can’t get it open, no matter how hard he tries. I’ve heard it’s perfect for families with cats, who want to provide cats with access to a litter box while keeping kids out, too.

Furniture Straps. We strap every piece of furniture in our house to the wall, just so that there are no easily preventable tipped furniture accidents. These straps make it easy!

OK to Wake Clock. This silent alarm clock has been my life saver during the daylight savings change. When we introduced this new alarm clock, our son soon learned that he couldn’t get out of bed until the “green light” came on– so he happily stays in bed until a reasonable hour each morning, giving our family much-needed sleep. (We bought one for my daughter recently, too!)

Funtainer Straw Cups. These stainless steel straw cups are the by far the best leak-proof travel cups I’ve found. I’ve read that straws are preferred over sippy cups by speech pathologists, so you can use these cups with children as soon as they are ready to drink water.

Ergobaby Carrier. The Ergo carrier is my most-used and favorite baby item, as it let’s you be securely hands-free, while also keeping your baby close and happy. I also love the Baby K’tan wrap for the early newborn days, but if you only want one baby wrap, the Ergo is my #1 choice– particularly because it can be sized to fit a variety of care takers! (So my husband can wear it, too.)

Countablock Book. . This book has been one of my son’s favorites for over a year now. It has helped him learn to count to 100, and I love how sturdy and colorful it is! (Many of our other books have ripped or missing pages…) There are three other book in this series, too: Alphablock, Cityblock and Dinoblock.

Mini Popsicle Mold.. These mini molds are the perfect size for toddlers! It’s just enough of a treat, without it melting down their hands before they get bored with it. I like to repurpose any leftover smoothie that my son doesn’t drink by pouring it into these molds and making colorful (and healthy) popsicles for later. If you have older kids, this larger mold is perfect for making bigger popsicles.

Jolly Penguin Race. My kids are both OBSESSED with this penguin toy. It’s a little noisy, but it’s a great way to keep them distracted while I get the dishes done or dinner on the table. Free time when you’re a parent is priceless!

Whether you’ve found something new for yourself, or to give to your friends and family,  I hope you’ll find this gift guide useful!

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Reader Feedback: What’s your favorite gift to give this year? 

Source: https://detoxinista.com/healthy-holiday-gifts/