#my mum was looking for an apple muffin recipe and i found one from this site and also saw this lemon one

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

anyone tried out a recipe recently that they really like?

here's my contribution

This is Lemon Coconut Slice from Just a Mum's Kitchen if you want to google or link is https://justamumnz.com/2014/09/10/lemon-coconut-slice/

i really didn't think i'd love this but it's honestly an immediate favourite it's so moist and the perfect amount of lemon and the icing sugar topping is SO good imo would recommend

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Unraveling at the Seams Pt 2

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Alex Høgh Andersen/OFC, Henry Cavill/OFC Warnings: Language, Sexual Innuendo, Possible NSFW Rating: M Length: Multi Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Well this is going over better than I thought it would. For that, I thank you all :)

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr for the header :D

Catch Up Here 

“Momma,” The voice stirred through the sea air, rolling in off the Channel like a faint whisper. Nell scrunched her nose, her toes in the cool sand,  surrounded by the tiny grains. “Momma.”

This time of year the bay was beautiful, she remembered her first time seeing it, France to the East and England slightly to the North West. It had to be one of the most beautiful places Nell had ever...

“Momma!” The voice raised, accompanied by a violent shaking. “Mum! Mum!”

“Wha---” Nell groaned trying to roll away from the brutal wake up. Ivan could have at least waited until her alarm went off to wake her. “Ivan, stop.” she held her arm over her face, trying to block out the sunlight from the bay window.

“I need a new bag.” Ivan halted the attack on his sleeping mother. His dark curls a mess of bedhead, his blue eyes bright.

“Why? What happened to the one that you have?” Nell tried to find the time. Blindly grabbing for her phone, she gave in to defeat. Her alarm was due in five minutes, though there was no chance in getting those last five minutes of sleep. Her hair in it's own state of bedhead, she sat up and stretched her arms.

“I can't use it.” Ivan shrugged, standing beside her bed with the blue and red bag in his hand. He'd managed to get dressed, at least. Nell grunted, unable to form any more words at the current second. How she wanted to be back on that peaceful and quiet bay. “Momma.”

“What ever is the problem, my dearest boy?” She was awake now.

“I need another bag.” Ivan huffed. How many times did he have to tell his mother this? She was hopeless before he first cup of coffee. “I don't like this one, anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because nobody at school likes Superman any more. It would be so uncool to have it.” Ivan's eyes were wide and his voice serious. Nell chuckled, kids.

“Then go to your cupboard and get your old one, for today.”

“Okay, but we need to get rid of this. I can't be seen wearing this, ever!”

“Tell your father, he's the one who gave it to you.” Nell scratched the back of her head. Ivan dropped the bag and dashed down the hall. It was too early and Nell was too tired to remind him not to tear his room apart looking for something else.

Finally, the Superman drama causing book bag was replaced with one from the previous year. Nell assumed that since Superman was out, it would be cooler for her son to roll up to his class toting an old Peppa Pig bag. She would never understand kids and their crazes.

Breakfast. Check. Thanks to the blueberry muffins made by Bridie.

Lunches. Check. Shepherd's Pie, apple slices, a granola bar, and orange juice box for both of them.

Work bag. Gym bag. Keys. Coffee. Ivan.

And Nell was out the door.

Mornings like this were hectic to say the least, but they were Nell's favourite. Going into work later was always a bonus, though the real treat was getting to spend the early morning with Ivan. Nobody else there to interrupt them or tell them what or how to do things. It was the best part of the week, aside from Sunday, when Nell had the full day off and they indulged themselves in a late breakfast and an afternoon full of never leaving the couch.

At work Alex hadn't intended to wait for Nell, his schedule had been pushed back, which meant he had a little more time to hang out in the studio. It wasn't as if he had planned to be lingering when she walked into the department.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Alex greeted her before she could register what was going on.

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” Nell gave him a curt nod. “Rayna, can you help me unload those costumes we packed yesterday? I think there are one or two that need to be restitched.”

“Finished, sweets.” Rayna replied with a knowing smile and a wink.

The young actor had been following Nell around for too long, it was about time he got his due. At the very least, Rayna could help him get in a proper conversation with her colleague. It was less than a minute to her break, handing Alex a box of pins, Rayna instructed him to wait for Nell.

Settling into work, Nell ditched her bags and grabbed the folder she needed to begin mapping out the next round of costumes. Damn Rayna. Nell heard her tell Alex that she was leaving. Smooth on her friend's part. Taking her sweet time, Nell moved at a glacial pace. Small talk and nosy people were two things she wanted to avoid at all costs.

“Nell?” Alex poked his head around the door. “Ray said...”

“I heard.”

“Oh. Do you need any help?” He leaned against the door frame, his smile doing the best to charm the designer. His hair twisted into a bun, waiting for his hair and make up call, to transform him into whatever version of Ivar that they wished to create today.

“No thanks.” Nell shook her head. “You don't have to stand here, you know. I'm sure you have better things to do.”

Resting against the door, as if holding it upright, Alex's nose crinkled. “I am waiting for the call, I really don't have anything else to do.”

“Huh.”

On a typical day Alex would be nowhere to be found, while waiting for a set call. Like the other actors sleeping, reading, or generally goofing off was how he tended to spend his time. As of late he was choosing to spend more and more time in the costume department.

He watched Nell move around, gathering this piece or that, piling them up on a table at the end of the room. Whether she was conscious of it or not, her hips swayed to the music in her head, while she began to work. Her full attention set on the task at hand, she did an excellent job at ignoring Alex.  

The drawings on the paper before her had Nell's full attention, it was one of the bigger pieces, taking weeks to create and it still had fine details to be finished. It would be worn in the second half of the season, the actress it had been made for would look even better than Nell had imagined when this piece had begun. Her nimble fingers worked over a piece of costume, checking the stitching inch by inch. Alex had never sat and watched all the detail going into the clothing he wore day after day, while in character.

Such effort and care.

Nell could feel the steel blue eyes following her around the room.

He was tenacious, to say the least. There weren't many men his age who would stand that quiet and patiently. As awkward as Nell should find this, having Alex watching her felt familiar in a way. His presence reminded her of another time in her life, when another young actor had worked this hard to gain her attention.

This time she was going to be smart. Humor Alex with some chatting, rewarding him with a smile,  and nothing more. No longer was Nell going to swayed by gorgeous blue eyes and a flashy smile.

Alex was never quiet this long, strangely Nell liked him this way. His chatter was too much sometimes, despite him meaning well by it. She knew that he assumed she hated him. Yes, he annoyed her, never intentionally. What annoyed her was what he reminded her of, not him directly.

Shifting to prevent his leg from going to sleep, Alex stayed quiet and watched. He'd never noticed that Nell moved with absolute grace or that she had a small tattoo behind her left ear. At that he began to feel a tiny bit creepy.

“I may go get a drink, would you like anything? Coffee?”

“Uh,” Nell glanced up, catching Alex's eye. He was rather cute, standing there in half in his costume, looking like a lost puppy. “Scotch?” Nell's laugh was easy.

“I don't have any of that here, otherwise I would gladly share.” Alex winked. He liked her laugh. Was it too bold to tell her that?

“Unfortunate for us.” Nell joked. “Since there is no scotch, I'll take a coffee. Please. Black one sugar.”

Mock saluting, Alex grinned widely. “One coffee, black, one sugar on the way.”

Hearing that Alex and Nell had some easy interaction would surely please Rayna all while fueling her imagination.

She had told Nell more than once to enjoy the attention. He was young, handsome, generous, and could still be taught a thing or two where it would count. Each time, Nell would laugh trying to escape the conversation. Alex would soon move on, the second he found someone else to fawn over. He was young and handsome, women his age would eat that up in a second.

A handsome, sweet nature, generous actor was a recipe for disaster. Nell learned that first hand and would not, under any circumstances, go back there. She had been down that path and while it had left her with Ivan, she wasn't up for a second round.

“Coffee.” Alex held out the cup. “And!” he held out a package of chocolate chip cookies, tearing open the top he offered the first choice of the two cookies to Nell. “I grabbed these right before Marco, lucky score.”

“Well now I feel bad, poor Marco. What is he going to do?” Nell bit into the cookie.

Snickering, Alex shrugged. His friend would get over it.

“Don't you hate days like this?” Nell wondered out loud. “The slow days where nothing is happening, I hate waiting.”

“It's not my favourite, it's part of the job I guess.” Alex replied sipping his coffee and taking a bite of his cookie. “I'm not patient.”

“Neither am I,” Nell admitted. “Though being a mom has helped that.”

Alex swallowed his cookie and took another sip of coffee. After yesterday, he didn't want to step on any toes by discussing Nell's son.

“I don't...I don't know if I could do that.” Alex gently moved the conversation along. “Parenting must be a tough job. I can barely look after myself, it's why Marco lives with me.”

“I felt that way, at first. Especially after...”

“Right,” Alex wiped the crumbs of the cookie off of him. Sheepishly grinning at Nell. “I have to go find out what is going on for my shoot. If you're around later, how about we get together for another coffee?”

Saving her from going down a road that seemed rather personal for work, Alex crinkled the cookie package in his hand.

“Hmm,” Nell wrinkled her nose. “Not going to happen, sorry. Ivan will be here after school and I am off early.”

“Maybe tomorrow? Or Monday?” Alex was wishful that she would take his offer. He felt as though Nell had chatted with him to be polite or because she was bored, whatever he would take this as a personal win. If he had balls, he'd ask her for coffee over their days off.

“We'll see.” Nell smiled softly, her eyes creasing gently in the corner. She had stunning eyes.

“Until then, enjoy your shitty coffee. And good luck with all this work.” Alex waved backing out of the door.

He had accomplished a nearly impossible task today and it left him feeling invincible.

Lost in her work, time began to slip away. Deep in her element, Nell hadn't bothered to look at a clock since Alex had left. She knew it would soon be time for Ivan to come, a excitement began to bubble. Her son loved hanging out at work with his mother, his mood would change the older her got. Until then, Nell would take full advantage of the time he wanted to spend around his mother. Even if he did it because of how cool  it was to see people battling one another with swords?

“Nell, visitor.” One of the ladies who worked as a various runner knocked on the door. Nell's head jerked up, a smile on her face.

“Thank you,” Nell dropped everything she was doing to meet Bridie and collect Ivan.  Thanking their nanny and waving her off, the duo headed back inside. The afternoon warmth was welcomed on the other hand, the air conditioning was nicer.

“How was school?” Nell ruffled Ivan's hair and hugged him to her side.

“Long.” Ivan rolled his eyes, leaning into his mother. “Can I play with your phone?”

“Slow down, wild boy.” Nell eased. “You can, but if there is any school work it has to be done first. Go on, I will clear a space for you.”

“No school work.” Ivan beamed proudly. “I got a gold star today and don't have any.”

“Such a smart boy.” Nell held open the door for her son to pass through. “Give me a second, I will get you a spot to hang out and play games.”

“Okay.”

Ivan's quest for a game to play was sidetracked, when he stepped inside to find the familiar man hanging out, waiting like every one else seemed to be today. Bouncing the rest of the way across the room, Ivan greeted his friend. Calling to his mother. “Mum, I don't need to play a game right now.”

“Ivan!” Jordan cheered, his laugh coming in a growl. “How've ya been, buddy?”

Jordan and his girlfriend lived in the townhouse across the courtyard from Nell and Ivan. Having met Jordan at work with his mother; Ivan would sometimes join the actor in games of basketball on the small court behind their complex. On Saturdays, providing there was nothing else going on, Jordan would invite Nell and Ivan over to watch whatever football match was on. Jordan and Ivan would sit in front of the tv yelling and cheering, while Nell and Sophie ignored the chaos and spent time gossiping about this and that.

“Good, I guess. Ms. Inglewood has been giving a lot of homework.” The seven year old groaned, flopping down on the chair next to the actor. “Mountains of it!” His eyes were wide. “But not today.”

“Ah, all part of the school game, little man.” Jordan clasped a hand over the boy's small shoulder. “Tell me what you've been learning about.”

Nell snickered, pulling a rack of pants from the large cupboard behind the chairs, Ivan had been complaining for the last two weeks about this very subject. Jordan had opened a can of worms.

“Vikings.” Ivan replied in discontent.

“Well, look at that!” Jordan's enthusiasm was about to be squashed. He nudged the boy in the arm, smiling. “You must be at the top of the class, then?”

“No.” Ivan mumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “Ms. Inglewood has it all wrong and when I tell her that, she gets mad at me.”

“What do you mean?”

“She knows nothing about Vikings! It's all big and hairy men, wearing hats with horns, and how they were big bullies.” Ivan huffed, turning in his seat, he grasped the armrest, leaning over into Jordan's face. “She's crazy and not a very good teacher!”

“Hmm,” Jordan pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Do you tell her that she's wrong, often?”

“Every day!” Ivan nodded firmly. He'd sat back a few inches, giving Jordan room to turn and face him.

“Maybe that's why she's always mad?”

“But she's wrong!” Ivan argued. “Wrongggg, Jordan, wrong!”

“So, the next time she is wrong, try being nice. Rise your hand and politely explain how what she is saying, isn't true.” Jordan offered the solution.

“Ugh.” Ivan sat back on his chair. “She won't listen to me, but...” He smirked. “She might listen to an adult.”

Nell listened to the conversation, no matter what Jordan said Ivan would try his best to get his own way. The little boy had a charming smile and those dazzling blue eyes, it was difficult for adults to deny him. A charm his father had as well. If he grew up to be like his father, the world was going to need some help handling them both.

“Buddy, I'm not sure that I'm the right guy to talk to your class. I don't now much about Vikings, I just pretend to be one.” Jordan shrugged, standing to finish putting on his costume. He had spent enough time with the boy to know how to deflect that charm. “Why don't you see if your mum can't help you find someone else?”

“But you're my best friend. And adult girls like you.” Ivan continued to argue. The various people in the room getting a chuckle, as the little boy tried his best to convince the actor. “Please.”

“Okay, Ivan, enough.” Nell cut in, running her hand through his hair. “Jordan has to get to work. We can discuss this later, let him go.”

“Mummm.” Ivan whined, ducking away from her. “I need someone to talk to Ms. Inglewood. Otherwise, she's going to produce a bunch of morons.”

“Ivan! Language!” Nell scolded her son. “Lets give this a rest, why don't you go see what they're doing in make up? I'll be right over with the rest of today's costumes.”

“Fine.” Ivan grumbled, sliding out of the chair. “But someone needs to talk to this woman. Where's Mr. Peter? He knows a lot about Vikings right?”

“Go and leave him alone, too!”

@funmadnessandbadassvikings​ , @kawennote09​, @smutgoblin​ , @nickysurfer28​ , @peaceisadirtyword​, @igetcarriedawaywithyou​ , @lif3snotouttogetyou​, @akamaiden​ @angelaiswriting​, @neeadinghugs​, @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly​, @ilvebeenabad​ , @naaladareia​, @imgoldielikehawn​ @tephi101​, @sdcyumyum​ @unacceptabletatertots​, @sparklemichele​ , @titty-teetee​ , @smolasianwinterbean​ , @capitanostella​ , @captstefanbrandt​ @bloodyivar​  , @normanallthewayforever​  , @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme​ , @imyourliquor-youremypoison​ , @nikky-the-writer​  , @seremedyxiii​ , @laketaj24​ , @deleteidentity​ , @tornupandbored​ , @hoeghfabulous​ , @ateliefloresdaprimavera​  , @mydarlingwhim​ , @kenzieam​ , @jar-of-love​ ,  @angelswannawearmyredshooz​ , @manuugxlvis​  , @lost-in-my-thoughs , @ivars-snowflake​ , @lisinfleur​ , @fumblingthroughchaos​ @pebblesz892 , @nelson-and-murdock​ , @nothingeverdies, @bluearchersstuff  @itsspecial-itsnotforeveryone, @ivarlothbroks, @badassbaker  @cris101071 @fucktrucks @ohjules @mrsadrianraines  @angelic-kisses13 @marthasantos95 @atlanticowe @hows-my-hair @omgshuddupmeg @moviegirl50 @havenoffandoms @gearhead66 @happydaysandersen @rekdreams-fandom @lovemylife2618 @supernaturalvikingwhore @heavenly1927 @zoe-rachel-crisp @blogandreea11 @shileen91 @geekandbooknerd @mzliterarydreamer @youbloodymadgenius @ainatirb-j @carlya65​

- if you want to be added?removed, please let me know

[tonyspep]

of muffins and men

a/n: /i usually never write rpf or reader insert stuff but bluesfortheredj inspired me with their richard madden imagines and now here we are lol

~*~of muffins and men~*~

pairing: richard madden/you

summary: there's an adorable five year old boy who comes into your bakery with his mom nearly every weekend until one day he comes in with his dad [single dad!richard au]

rating: t

You had opened your bakery six months ago and slowly but surely had built a reputation in the neighborhood for fresh scones and a nice cuppa.

You had a few frequent customers – the elderly couple who had their golden with them (rudy who you always made sure got a biscuit himself), a group of students at university who you'd extend the hours for when they needed to cram (something you didn't miss at all), a young couple (girlfriends) who had just moved into a small flat two blocks away and a mother and her five year old son.

The mother and son you occasionally saw during the week but mostly on the weekends. The mother thanking you breathlessly because – apparently – your butter scones were the only thing that could get the boy up at a decent hour.

He was adorable with his mop of auburn curls and the most stunning blue eyes you'd ever seen.

He was quite shy, as well, murmuring, “thank you” through a mouthful of scone, crumbs coating his lips and fingertips before he'd scurry back behind his mother's legs, making her laugh softly.

It's a beautiful day, you can't help but notice, as you flip the sign out front from closed to open. You sip delicately at your cup of Earl Grey with a splash of honey when you hear a tiny voice chirp from across the way, “Daaaaaaaa hurry!!! Miss Penny always makes sure there's a fresh scone for me and Mummy!!! I don't want her to give them away cause you're being slow!!!”

“Hey, now,” A heavy Scottish brogue comes next and noooo your knees do not go weak from the hint of gravel underneath. “If Miss Penny is as wonderful as you say, I doubt she's going to give your scone away. Stay close, big man,” There's a grunt as the owner of the voice lifts the boy from the ground. “Can't have you runnin' off and hurtin' yourself. I'll never forgive myself,” The tone is fierce and ten there's the sound of a loud smacking kiss. “If somethin' happened to you.”

“Miss Penny!!!” The bright yelp of your name causes you turn your head and you feel a smile take over your lips as you see the familiar mop of auburn curls and crystalline blue eyes. You wave briefly before turning to head inside and prepare the two scones, warming them briefly in the oven and pour the glass of milk for him before fixing his mother's customary cup of lavender tea.

Your back is turned when you hear the bell above the door jingle and then it's the scuffing of his sneakers across the floor as he barrels into the display case, like always, pressing his face to the glass eyes scanning the rows of sweets as his mother always lets him take one home. You're about to start the steeping of the tea when there's the brogue from earlier, “You don't have to do that. I'm not much of a tea drinker. That's Alfie's Mum.”

“Oh,” You murmur cheeks flushing because you catch the wonderfully male scent of pine and musk with a crisp note of apple underneath. You turn – question of what he would like instead on the tip of your tongue – and you swear, for just a second, you forget to breathe. You assumed the combination of a voice like that and such a heady scent would belong to someone attractive, but you never would have dreamed you'd be staring at the familiar chiseled features of Richard Madden.

“Never thought anything would get this one up,” Brings you back to the here and now as you blink a few times, trying to get your brain to start working properly again. “Before noon especially on a weekend. It's enough trouble trying to get him up for school. Your scones must be somethin' special.”

“It's just an, um, old... It's not... I wouldn't say...” oh my god, you thought not quite believing that you couldn't form a simple sentence. seriously, can a hole just open up and swallow me whole, please?

You felt an intense heat work its way from your neck to your cheeks and not for the first time you were cursing your fair skin. Not only did you look like a perfectly ripe tomato when you blushed, the freckles and sun spots across your cheeks and nose stood out like a beacon and you'd always hated them. Along with your strawberry blonde hair, which was almost always braided – for baking, it was best kept out of your way – you looked like Pippi Longstocking. And here you were unable to speak properly but looking like a tomato, wearing a blue button up, ripped jeans that have been washed god knows how many times and your plain brown apron with your comfortable white Keds.

Exactly how you imagined you would look when one of the hottest men on the planet walked into your shop.

Notting Hill was such a fucking lie. Ugh.

“It's just an old family recipe,” You finally managed softly, willing the blush to recede. “Nothing special.”

“I think I'll be the judge of that,” He winks... actually winks just like in Rocketman and you're reminded of the tweet you sent out after you had seen it (the first time) richard madden could wink me into an early grave and in this moment, you think he just might as your heart nearly stops and you forget to breathe once again.

“Not to mention,” He bends, lifting the boy into his arms and squeezing him tight while the little one flails and groans, “Daaaaaaa stoooooooop it!!!” He doesn't, instead he squeezes tighter and you think fleetingly, can i get pregnant from this as he says, “This one's goin' through a picky faze. Getting him to try anything new's a bit of a hassle right now.”

The timer on the oven beeps – the scones done warming – and you're more than thankful because you don't think your brain is firing on all cylinders to continue trying to make conversation. You wrap each scone in brown parchment, murmuring, “it keeps the heat in,” as you hand the boy his first and then offer the other to his father.

And that's how you should think of the impossibly handsome man in front of you as the cute little boy's father because thinking of him as Richard fucking Madden whom you've thirsted over since seeing him in Ibiza – sending out tweets like just watched the entire six episodes of the bodyguard and david budd can say yes ma'am to me all day or how could you forget the gem stared at richard madden's clenched jaw too long and now i'm pregnant – meant you would probably spontaneously combust  in a matter of seconds.

Especially since you couldn't help but watch his every move as he bit into the soft, crumbly pastry that perfectly sharp jaw working as he chewed.

Clearly Sarah – your best friend is right – you do need – desperately so – to get laid. You can't take your eyes off of him as he chews. That tweet Buzzfeed made him read is right, he is a thirst trap just by existing.\

“I told youuuuuuuuuu,” The little one sing-songs, face covered in crumbs and flashing an adorable gap-toothed grin. “Miss Penny's scones are the bessssssst.”

A delicious laugh falls from the sinful plumpness of his lips and your knees knock together so you don't fall into a helpless heap on the floor. He discretely wipes the crumbs on the side of his mouth with his thumb and briefly brings the digit to his mouth, laving the remainder quickly, and an intense shudder rolls through your whole body. He bends addressing his son quietly, whatever he says makes the little boy laugh, and his brogue brings you back to yourself as he says, “My Mum's visiting this week, she'd sure love a homemade scone or two. Can we get a dozen and somethin' for this little monster to snack on later, please?”

You're thankful you can fall back into the routine of bakery owner. Going through the familiar motions will make you less likely to say something ridiculous and scare him away. You remember he said in an interview once that he would wear the same clothes two or three days in a row because the paparazzi could only run the pictures once. You also remember reading his neighbors created a group text to let him know when the vultures were lurking. Your heart ached thinking how lonely of an existence that could be.

With his perfectly lean gym-toned body you doubted he indulged in any kind of sweets but you couldn't resist adding a strawberry cupcake for him along with the dozen scones and the lemon bar for his son. You tied the box with its customary blue ribbon and stamped the shop's seal as well before handing it to him, your fingers softly brushing against his and as he said, “thank you,” he flashed his brilliant white teeth, plump lips curling into a grin that any romance novelist would have described and roguish and there went your knees again.

Not that you ever thought you would see him again – he was an international celebrity, after all – you didn't think it would be so soon after first time.

It was the end of the week – the sun was just starting to set and you were about to start going through the closing routine, your best girl – Amber, the only one you trusted in the shop without you – had just left for the night and just as you were about to start going through the till, the bell above the shop's door jingled. You sighed heavily, tightening the ribbon that held back your riot of curls, and wiped your hands along your apron reminding yourself to be professional. You hated turning any customer away – even on night's like tonight – you were dog tired, your feet ached and you felt as though you could barely stand but you were barely established and couldn't afford to lose a sale, no matter how small or how run down you were.

“How can I...” The familiar words died on your tongue, your eyes widening when you found yourself staring at the chiseled features of the man who starred in your most vivid fantasies. “Hello,” Stumbled off your lips and you wished the ground could swallow you whole... hello, really, pen?????? there was Sarah's voice taunting you and you could practically see her deep eyes rolling at your incompetence.

“I would have come earlier – I know you're closin' up now – but I don't get to see my Ma as often as I would like,” A flush colors his chiseled cheekbones, his hand coming to rub at the back of his neck and no your eyes don't follow the rugged lean muscle of his forearm as it ripples from the mundane action. “So I wasn't able to. Alfie and I had to see her off y'know. Anyway, I – uh – found your,” His eyebrows waggle and his lips twist into a positively sinful smirk, emphasizing the pillowy softness of his plumper bottom lip and your throat is suddenly desert dry. “Surprise,” He chuckles, low and deep. “I've always been a vanilla fan but you could change a man's mind with a strawberry cupcake like that. Another family recipe?”

“N-no, um,” You shake your head as you feel your hands tremble at your sides. “It's mine.”

“I couldn't help but notice you didn't charge...” He started to say as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and you interrupted, “It was on the house. The shop's barely been open six months and your family,” You stumble over the word, not quite sure how to classify Alfie and his mother. “Has been very good to me since I opened it. They're so loyal.”

“Still...” He tries and you cut him off again, your voice a little firmer, “I won't accept your money. You paid for your dozen scones and lemon bar. You'll throw off the till if I put it in the register, anyway. It's just an unnecessary hassle.”

You think he'll try to foist the bills on you, anyway but instead he pushes his wallet down and begins to roll up the sleeves of his fitted Henley and your brows burrow down while your lips twist into confusion. He answers your silent question easily as he rubs his hands together and turns those gorgeous crystalline blue eyes on you, “Then what can I take care of for you? The floors need sweeping? Moppin', maybe? Windows need a wash? Rubbish needs to go to the bin?”

“Huh?” Is all you can sputter out. There's another chuckle – just as low and deep – but somehow more delicious as he leans in close and suddenly the edge of your jaw is cupped by his large hand as he draws your face upwards. The heat of his breath ghosts across your face – tinged with cinnamon – as he murmurs, “You won't let me pay and I'd like to think I was raised right, so I'm afraid – Miss Penny – I cannot in good conscious accept your cupcake without some form of recompense. Manual labor will have to do then, yeah?”

“Penelope,” Your full name leaves your suddenly tremulous lips and you're sure your brain is mush, literally, because he's giving you that unbelievable grin and when he repeats your name back, testing the eight letters on his tongue, you swear you're going to wake up and be in a tangle of your sheets with your hound Rufus staring at you, head titled with worry at your tossing and turning. You're so sure of this, that you actually close your eyes, expecting to see the butter yellow walls of your bedroom but instead it's Richard fucking Madden's out-of-this-world handsome face staring at you his eyes so deep and warm it's like they can see right through you.

“You, uh, really... It's fine... It's no big deal,” You murmur, your protest so weak and your voice so soft you can barely hear yourself.  “It's just a cupcake.”

“A damn fine one made by a beautiful lady. Stubborn, too, it seems,” He clicks his tongue and gives a  flash of a cheeky grin while his thumb slides along the edge of your jaw and you feel yourself melt his hand is so warm and the slight calluses on his thumb drag across the softness of your skin and it's too much so heady and it's like a haze has settled over your brain.

“If you have to pay me back,” Suddenly you're bold, you can hear the teasing tone in your voice and how it's dropped an octave. You're peering through your lashes, thankful you remembered mascara this morning as it makes them darker and more full than usual and then you're taking your bottom lip between your teeth and it's probably just your imagination but you see his eyes flash – a deeper, richer blue – to your lips, tracing the cupid's bow seam and another shudder rolls through you. “I guess you can start by sweeping the floor's good sir.” Your best haughty voice and you're rewarded with yet another chuckle.

It's fast becoming your favorite sound.

You discretely pinch your elbow – still believing this is a dream or at best a very vivid fantasy conjured by your tired, run down mind – as you walk back behind the counter while he begins to sweep. You can't believe this is actually happening... Richard Madden in your shop and he's sweeping your floors... something's gone terribly off the rails, hasn't it?

Then he chuckles, drawing you out of your thoughts, and he's turned those impossibly beautiful eyes on you again and asks, “An Elton fan, huh?”

And that's when you realize “Honky Cat” is playing in the background from your phone which is set to the Elton John playlist you found on spotify.

That awful blush spreads from your neck upward and you absently tug at an errant curl that's slipped from your messy bun. You bite your lip, willing your blush to go away, as you murmur, “Always have been. Sorry. I'll change it. I didn't, um, even realize that was playing.”

“Nonsense.” He shakes his head. “This happens to be my favorite song.” A cheeky wink and you wonder, seriously, how you're standing? Because if he smiles, chuckles or winks at you again, you're positive you'll end up as nothing but a puddle.

“Thank you.” You say when he's finished and is following you out the door after you've shut off the lights and counted the till. You feel a flash of bold rush through you as you tilt your head just so and bat your lashes, briefly, reaching to touch his wrist, “What are you doing, say every night around this time, for the foreseeable future? Because if acting fizzles for you, I must say you're an excellent sweeper, sir.”

He laughs – not chuckles but laughs – his eyes crinkling attractively as he does, head thrown back and exposing the tempting flesh of the stern tendons in his neck and you swallow thickly.

“Sweeper for the best baker in Londontown?” He strokes his chin, drawing your attention to his sinful fingers – slender but rugged – and you feel your stomach clench as he places his other hand at your hip, bringing you into the hard planes of his body. “How would I be able to refuse such a tantalizing offer? What is the pay rate? A dozen scones? Another delectable cupcake? Or...” His voice trails away before he bends his head, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. His voice drops an octave, something rough and tinged with heat, “Something better? A kiss, perhaps?”

“Richard...” His name nothing less than a breathless keen and then he's tilting your head, his pillowy soft lips slanting against your own.

“Penelope...” A heavy groan from deep inside his chest as you both pull back because – ugh – oxygen is a necessity. That kiss spurred a rush inside you and after you catch your breath, your drawing his lips back to yours. One taste – so warm and heady – is not close to being enough you need more, more, more, more, more and this time your tongue slides into his mouth – which falls open easily – seeking his and then they're tangling as you clutch at his strong back, feeling the muscles clench and flex while his hand grips a hearty handful of your right cheek, pulling you even closer and it's like he's trying to crawl inside you with this kiss and your toes are curling and you don't know how you've gone so long without a kiss like this.

“Soon I hope to see the freckles your hiding,” Ragged and rough and your thighs rub together wantonly as you moan. “You can't say things like that,” You chastise, shoving him playfully. He stumbles back theatrically and you laugh, shaking your head and then he's wound his arms around you, trapping you against him. “You'll give a girl ideas,” You manage as his lips attach themselves to the long column of your neck, sucking here and there.

“And pray tell what kind of ideas are you referring to?”

“Ones that shouldn't be spoken of on the street.”

“Whisper them to me then.”

In the end, you don't. You yawn and suddenly you're reminded of your aching feet and how you've been up since four in the morning. You share another kiss – this is something tender and gentle, your tongues still tangle, though – and you end up resting your forehead against his. He brushes a wayward curl away as a brief breeze blows through and your heart clutches. You can't handle the way he's staring at you – so focused, so open and warm – it's like nothing else in the world exists. It's too much but you never want him to stop.

Your phone number is in his phone now and his in yours.

You don't know how you're not physically chasing him as you watch him disappear into the night because now that he's kissed you, you don't know how you'll survive without another.

Your phone pings and there's a text tell me those ideas i've put in your head

You shake your head and text back a lady would never

you'll tell me soon enough. /just like soon enough i'll see those freckles your hiding.

You don't know how you manage to stumble through your flat, Rufus practically mauling you, as that last text made your knees weaker than they'd ever been. You fall asleep in a tangle of sheets and when you wake up the next day there's a text waiting for you.

is it soon enough yet?

You giggle and squeal like some silly school girl and as you peel your pajamas away and step into the steaming shower, you think this man is going to be the death of me

[fanficimagery]

Imagine being the neighbor to the Weasley's. You've gotten along fabulously with the family and during a drunken game of Hide and Seek, when you rush in through the back door of the Burrow, you finally meet the one Weasley you've yet to meet. Bill.

Bill X Reader

Panting heavily, you push your legs to run faster. The Burrow is within your sights, and since you've been living next door to the Weasley's for quite some time now and have been keyed into their wards, it's easy to run through the garden and in through the back door.

"Hide me!"

Molly is at the stove, no doubt mixing up a wonderful dinner, and there's another redhead sitting at the table. You stare long enough to see he has red hair down to his shoulders and a few scars littering his face before Molly tuts and points in a certain direction. You smile at her and lunge for the pantry door, throwing said door open before hiding yourself away inside.

"Uhhh.."

"Not now, dear," Molly tells her apparent family member. "You're going to give her away."

Snickering at the male's confused expression through the slates on the door, you back away to hide further in the shadows when Harry jogs through the back entrance. "Hey, Molly. Bill." His thunderous expression smooths out to one of friendly manners. "You haven't seen anyone run through here, have you?"

Molly shakes her head. "Not a soul, dear. Is everything alright?"

His expression tightens, but he manages a smile for his future mother-in-law. "Fine. If you happen to see Y/N or Hermione, don't let them know I'm near. I want to surprise them."

Slapping a hand over your mouth to keep the giggles at bay, you wait until Harry exits the kitchen to no doubt search upstairs. A minute passes and then Mrs. Weasley calls out, "He's gone, dearie. You can come out now."

Stumbling out of the pantry, you bite your lip to keep laughter from escaping and alerting Harry to your presence. You then head straight for the Weasley matriarch. "You're the best, Mama Red." Throwing your arms around her in a hug, you then pressing a smacking kiss to her cheek. "Next time I come over I'll bring over my mom's recipe for apple cinnamon muffins."

Molly beams, but her reply is cut short by someone clearing their throat. "Ahem."

Your gaze darts to the intruder and you grin. "So another Weasley? It's like Christmas has come early."

The male chuckles and Molly swats you with a dish towel. "Hush, you. That's Bill. Bill, this is Y/N. She and her family live next door. After befriending your brothers, she gets quite excited when another Weasley she has yet to meet pops up."

"Not just any Weasley, Molly. You know your eldest are the only ones I hadn't met and I was quite excited to after hearing what they did for a living. And after meeting Charlie, I figured this must be Bill. The cursebreaker."

"The one and only," Bill muses. "Now the question is, what did you do to Harry? He looked murderous when he ran up in here."

Your shoulders shake with suppressed laughter and you take several steps away from Molly since you know she will swing that dish towel when she hears of what you did. "Ever since I told George he was cute, but not really my type, he's been trying to feed me one of his Weasley products to be infatuated with him for the day so he can embarrass me." Taking a seat near Bill, your eyes twinkle with mischief as you ready yourself to tell him the events of earlier today. "Hermione realized my drink was tampered with, so with a few spells here and there we managed to switch out my drink for George's while also changing the potion he had slipped into the drink."

"You didn't?" Bill laughs. "How does Harry play into this then?"

"Well," you drawl. "The potion might have changed so that the person who drank it was left unharmed, but those within a certain distance were suddenly whammied and infatuated with George. Harry may have stepped into the danger zone and suddenly found your brother attractive." Bill erupts in laughter and Molly huffs while muttering about dangerous pranks. "Harry also might have snogged George before Ginny knocked him away with a spell so he was level-headed again."

As Bill laughs, you can't help but take in his scarred face. You've heard about the eldest brother, but you never really gave him much thought. But now faced with him, you can't help but notice how attractive he really is- scars included. The fanged earring hanging from one ear and the shoulder length hair tucked behind his ear also factors in to how much you suddenly find him attractive.

Thundering footsteps rushing downstairs can be heard and you squeak before dropping to the floor. Bill gapes at you as you roll under the table and Molly chortles at her son's horrified expression when you tuck yourself close to his legs. Bill starts to ask what the hell you're doing when you pinch his thigh and his yelp is quickly turned into a cough when Harry re-enters the kitchen.

Harry leaves the Burrow, but not before promising Molly that he’ll remind Ron about dinner. Once he's gone and Molly watches him disapparate from the kitchen window, you crawl back out and squeeze Bill's shoulder.

"I totally owe you a pint," you laugh. "I didn't mean to become so close and personal with your junk on the first meeting." Bill's face pinks and Molly purses her lips together to keep from laughing or ruining a moment in the making. "Major thanks to not giving me up to Boy Wonder." Looking at Molly then, you wink, "See you later, Mama Red. Thanks for hiding me."

Turning on your heel, you disapparate without another word.

Bill gapes, watching the space you'd just vanished from. "She's, uh... she's something else, isn't she?"

Molly hides just how happy her son asking after you makes her, especially after his sudden divorce from Fleur. "That she is, Bill. Now will you go call your father in from his shed? Dinner's just about ready."

Having apparated to Hogsmeade since you've come to learn that the Three Broomsticks is the last place one would be creepily hit on by any seedy individuals, you're happily enjoying a mug of Madam Rosmerta's oak-matured mead and a plate of fish n' chips. You've had a long day of work at Magical Menagerie and was in need of a wind down after several cats managed to open their cage doors and run amok.

"Mind if I take a seat?"

Chip half way to your mouth, you glance up and see Bill standing there with an easy going smile. You pop it in your mouth, chewing and nodding. "Hey, Weasley. Long time no see."

"It's been three days."

"It was a long three days." He chuckles and steals a chip, popping it into his own mouth with twinkling eyes as your own narrow at his thievery. "Watch it, William. You wouldn't want to lose a finger, would you?"

His eyes widen, but he steals another chip anyway. "After all I did for you the other day and you still treat me this way? Merlin, woman, you're harsh. Maybe next time I'll let Harry know exactly where you're at."

Nose wrinkling, you sip your mead. "Harry already caught up to me."

"Yeah? What was the result? He get back at you and 'Mione?"

"Unfortunately," you mumble. "But we will not speak of it. I don't think I can look your brother in the eye ever again."

Bill laughs. "What happened?"

"Come on, Bill," you whine. "Don't make me say it."

"Oh no. Now I'm even more curious."

Seeing his expectant gaze and his carefree smile, you can't help but cave. "Lets just say that men and women should never be forced into the bathroom together. I mean I know what our bodies are capable of, but we should not have to hear, see or smell another person's business!"

"What?"

"Harry magically bound George and I by the hand for twenty-four hours," you miserably admit. "It was terrible! I had to jinx him several times because he kept trying to persuade me to share a shower with him while I was standing right outside the curtain."

Bill now uproariously laughing, you kick his shin before quickly excusing yourself. Making a quick trip to the bar you place another order of fish n' chips with Rosmerta, as well as a pint of beer for Bill. She tells you that when it's ready she'll levitate it on over and you thank her before heading back to your companion.

He's smirking at you as he eats your food and you have to slap his hand away. "You Weasley's really have no boundaries, do you?"

"Says the girl whose face nearly ended up in my lap as she hid from Potter."

Your face immediately flames and he waggles his eyebrows at you. "Point."

"So, Y/N," he drawls. "How long have you been living next to my mum and dad?"

"A little over a year," you say while wiping grease from your fingers on a napkin. "Your mom was really welcoming the day we moved in. I come from a big family too, only they all stayed back in America save for the day they helped us move, so it was this big spectacle of Weasley's and Y/L/N's introducing themselves to each other and laughing as if we'd known each other for years."

"Well that's good. Mum and dad could use the company now that the Burrow is mostly empty."

"Mhm. And where have you been?" You ask. "Ginny spoke a lot of you, but she wasn't sure where the goblins sent you."

"Egypt," Bill answers with a faint smile. "Got myself divorced and I wanted some fresh air."

"Oh. I'm.. sorry?"

Bill chuckles. "Don't be. It just- it wasn't meant to be. She was infatuated with me for a while and I couldn't really see passed her Veela allure, and then things started to fizzle out on her end. We made each other miserable until we signed divorce papers."

"So it was amicable then?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Thank god," you sigh. "I was starting to feel weird sitting here and having a good time with you."

He quirks an eyebrow at you. "Why's that? It's not like this is a date."

"I know. But I hate to break it 'ya, Weasley, you're hot." His amusement quickly turns to shock and it's your turn to laugh. "I blame the hair. And the ridiculously handsome face you got going on. It's really not fair when you smile."

"But I- I-"

"Hot," you say. Happily eating a bit more of food, you wink as he gapes at you.

It takes his food and beer landing in front of him to snap him out of his stupor, and when he gathers his wits he huffs incredulously. "Blimey, you Americans really are blunt."

"Only sometimes," you shrug. "Right now I'm blaming the mead. It's got my tongue a little loose."

"A little?"

"Shush you."

Bill shakes his head in amusement and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you busy yourselves with eating. But the food only lasts so long and soon enough there's nothing to keep you from not talking.

"So what do you say to dinner?"

Your eyes widen. "What?"

"Dinner," Bill shrugs. "With me. Yes or no?"

"Oh- I, um-"

"It's not a tough decision, Y/N," he muses kindly. "You won't hurt my feelings if the answer is no."

"I just- I'm so confused," you laugh, cheeks pinking. "Dinner as dinner dinner? Or dinner as in date dinner? This isn't like.. a rebound, is it?"

"Merlin, no," he assures you. "My divorce was a little over a year ago. Probably around the time you moved, actually. You're the first bird to catch my attention and hold it."

You blink owlishly at him and once everything registers in your mind, you shake your head clear. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah," you nervously chuckle. "I'll have dinner with you. On one condition."

"Name it."

"When, not if, but when we have sex.. we fuck in your living room after we've forgotten that we've invited Harry over for some made up bullshit." Bill snorts, but you wave him off until you done. "I find that mentally scarring your nemesis in a prank war is the only way to truly win."

"You're going to be trouble, witch."

Smiling evilly, you place your elbow on the table and prop your chin in your hand. "Haven't you ever heard that the best witches are the troublesome ones, Weasley? Trust me, you're in for a ride."

Picking up his pint, he salutes you. "Here's hoping."

[islandpcosjourney]

Day 21 - Spring ‘21 challenge

4th April 2021

Today’s juices are: Pure raw energy smoothie Apple, Pineapple, Celery, Carrot, Beetroot, Lemon, Berry blend powder blended with Avocado & Banana Dreamy detox Apples, Lemon, Cucumber, Celery, Ginger root

While looking into some other aspect of juicing today, I came across a site where I found a couple of interesting looking recipes using the pulp from the juice I make. After this challenge, I’ll try it out so I’m going to start collecting the pulp. Here’s the recipe:

3 cups Carrot pulp 2 cups Pineapple pulp 1 cup Olive oil 3 Eggs 1 cup of Honey 3 cups Whole grain flour 1 tbsp Baking soda 1 tsp Vanilla

Mix the carrot and pineapple pulp together in a bowl. Add the honey, eggs, vanilla and oil then mix this together. Add the flour and baking soda. Pour the contents into muffin cups or grease a baking tin. Bake for 45 minutes at 175 °C       

It’ll be interesting to see how they turn out because carrot pulp can be very different from one machine to another. The site looked like it was based on a cold-press juicer like mine so it should be ok as the pulp would be of the same moisture content, so the oil & honey in the recipe should keep it moist, I hope. Now in terms of Whole grain flour, I wasn’t entirely sure about which kind they meant so I started looking into it. I am still so confused by them all but here are some of the ones I found:

Whole wheat flour – 6 different varieties: Whole wheat, sprouted whole wheat, white whole wheat, whole wheat pastry, Spelt & Kamut.

Quinoa flour*

Barley flour

Amaranth flour*

Brown rice flour*

Sorghum flour*

Buckwheat flour*

Corn meal/flour*

Millet flour*

Oat flour*sometimes

Teff flour*

Rye flour

*Gluten-free

Many of these I have heard of; some I even have in my cupboard, but out of this list I must choose the best fit for these muffins. At the moment I’m thinking my Wholemeal spelt flour would work as I know that I can use white spelt as a replacement for plain flour in my usual recipes already, but the brown version would just make it a bit heavier. It is such a minefield of flours out there! So many different types and they all need to be treated slightly differently.

I then discovered this; in case anyone needs tips on how to substitute Whole grain flours into their normal recipes:

Use any whole wheat flour to make cookies, muffins, quick breads (banana bread, biscuits, and scones) and breakfast items (waffles, pancakes). If a recipe calls for all-purpose flour, feel free to replace it with the same measure of whole grain flour.

Choose white whole wheat flour and whole wheat pastry flour when you want lighter, paler baked goods with a tender texture.

Make delicate crust doughs and cake batters with whole wheat pastry flour.

Convert bread recipes to 100 percent whole wheat (or whole grain) by adding 2 tsp. liquid per cup of flour to the recipe.

Let whole wheat/whole grain doughs and batters rest 20 minutes before baking. This gives the flour time to absorb the liquid in the recipe to help keep baked goods tender and moist.

Of course there are even more types of flour than wholegrain. I personally use Almond, Coconut & Gram flours. My mum makes a really tasty gram flour quiche crust and as I have lots of broccoli florets to use, I’m really hoping to keep her busy when she’s up here, by making a few of them for the freezer 😉 they freeze super well, and I genuinely prefer them to normal quiches but the smell of the gram dough is VERY distinctive so it maybe wouldn’t suit everyone. Gram flour is made from chickpeas and is the one used for Bhajis, Pakoras and Poppadoms.

Almond flour is made from ground almonds and is incredibly nutritious, particularly rich in Vitamin E and magnesium, two very important nutrients for health. It’s made from almonds which have been blanched in boiling water, the skins removed and then finely ground and sifted into a fine flour. I’ve found that buying almond flour is quite expensive and I did try my own a few times, but it tended to become oily the more I ground them, turning almost into an almond paste. So now what I use is simple ground almonds. It’s coarser, almost like almond meal (which is coarse and made with unpeeled raw almonds), but it works perfectly for my Banana bread recipe. Almond flour is also better for blood sugar levels as it’s low in carbs but high in healthy fats & fibre, including the magnesium which also participates in blood sugar regulation. You CAN replace almond flour for your standard wheat flour on a 1:1 ratio but whatever you are making will be flatter and denser because of the lack of gluten. You could add Xanthan gum, but it can cause digestive issues. Raising the amount of raising agent (baking powder &/ bicarb of soda) would help with the heavier weight of the almond flour.

Coconut flour can be a little harder to bake with as it absorbs more moisture than conventional flours, making the baked food dryer and crumbly. It has more carbs than almond flour and less nutrients. It also has less phytic acid which means that it contributes to your body being less efficient in absorbing nutrients. You’d typically use ¼ of the amount of coconut flour in a recipe compared with a wheat flour. I don’t use it as often but some PCOS recipes I follow include a tablespoon or so of coconut flour, so I don’t go through that much of it.

Not entirely sure how this entire blog ended up being about flours but there we go! I’m really looking forward to cooking healthy recipes after this. I definitely feel I’ve got my mojo back and of course we’re getting into better weather now so lighter & cold foods such as salads will be very welcome. Our new chef at work has been creating incredible smelling salads which otherwise would be very easy to dig into but at the moment, I’m being strong in pushing forward with another week of juice and reaping the benefits of the reset.

“Motivation is what gets you started.  Habit is what keeps you going” - Smart Fertility Choices, Kym Campbell