#scones done the proper way

[g1rld1ary]

sharing's caring ; anthony lockwood x fem!reader

➻ my first x reader fic so please be forgiving !! (also my first fic on tumblr ♡)

➻ word count: 789

➻ synopsis: lockwood meets the reader in arif's and they bond over their love of scones

➻ warnings: none!! tooth-rotting fluff <3

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Lockwood stood in line at Arif’s, tapping his foot absentmindedly. He wasn’t in any particular rush, but he had woken up starving, craving a scone from that particular cornerstore. He had been buying breakfast there more and more frequently over the past few months due to his growing obsession with not only their doughnuts, but each pastry he’d tried so far.

The bakery wasn’t often crowded, but that morning the pastry case was half empty already when Lockwood arrived at a quarter past eight. He sighed and hoped to himself that his very favourite product — a plain scone with strawberry jam, hadn’t been sold out already. He didn’t have time to wait for their next batch as George needed him in the archives and he couldn’t afford to be late; he was still grovelling over the last case he’d rushed them into without proper research.

He had moved up to second in line and was eyeing off his scone with hungry eyes when one of the cashiers suddenly took it away from the glass case, preparing to put it in a brown paper bag for you. Lockwood frowned and let out an “Oh, damn,” but started to consider his other options. You turned at the sound, brow furrowed slightly. You gasped when you realised what you’d done.

“Oh, I’m sorry! We can split the pastry if you like?” You had a sparkle in your eye, an indication of your willingness to share, and Lockwood found it rather charming.

“No, no, I’m sorry. You ordered it, the pastry’s yours,” He protested, not wanting to make a pretty girl unhappy. He even pulled out his signature megawatt smile, which almost always got him his way. It didn’t sway you.

“Come on, I don’t need a whole one and I can tell it’ll make you happy,” You laughed, quickly turning back to drop the change into the cashiers hand before you backed out.

“At least let me buy you a tea to make up for it?”

You giggled again, nodding and telling him how you liked it. You left Lockwood in line to go fetch a plastic knife and he ordered the drinks, noticing the baristas had already started on them. Because of their head start, the beverages were ready much faster than anticipated, and Lockwood made his way over to you, as you leant against a table next to the large front window.

The two teenagers stood for a second, watching your hands tear the dough apart into a carefully divided half (you snuck him the bigger side when he wasn’t looking).

“I’m Lockwood, by the way. Anthony Lockwood.” He broke the silence.

“Oh, I know,” He raised an eyebrow, “I, uh, I’ve seen you in the papers — your agency I mean. I’m y/n.”

You smiled as you handed Lockwood his half, providing him with a little tub of jam.

“Thank you again, you really didn’t have to do this.”

“Lockwood, it’s really not a big deal. Besides, you bought me a tea so we’re even,” You grinned, taking a triumphant bite of the scone. Lockwood laughed and followed suit, taking a slightly smaller bite of his half.

Lockwood quickly realised he was going to be late if he didn’t leave soon, and hurried to think of a way to extend this acquaintance past one shared scone.

“Maybe I could get the scone next time?” He tried to look confident and you smiled, raising an eyebrow to tease him.

“Next time?” His easy expression faltered as he became self conscious.

“Um, only if you want to, of course, I just—”

“Relax, Lockwood. It’s a date.” You both beamed and averted eye contact, slightly embarrassed. Lockwood stumbled over a sentence, something you could tell he wasn’t used to, telling you something along the lines of it being very nice to meet you and that he was looking forward to another breakfast but he had research to attend to. He rushed out of Arif’s with a furious red blush settled across his cheeks. You watched him go with a dreamy smile falling on your lips, giggling softly as he ran. You glanced down to pick up your tea when you noticed a business card sitting next to the unfinished scone, the phone number circled with a little pen smiley face next to it. You shook your head with a grin, sliding it into your pocket.

When Lucy and George both commented on his unusually flustered disposition, Lockwood could only utter a small “Shut up,” as he delved into the pile of papers already collected for him.

➻ as i said this is my first x reader fic I've ever written + the first fic i've put on tumblr so any feedback would be so appreciated !!

lots of love xoxo

[sucrosette]

★— ⋆｡˚ [Simple Things]

For Day 29 of Carry on Countdown 23, Cherry @carryon-countdown

Basil and Simon share a picnic in the park

Rated T for language & vague reference to shit childhoods.

This is the final of the Nurse/Lawyer AU. Enjoy~ 🖤 [Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4]

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“Why cherry scones?” Basil asks, his head on my lap, my spare hand running through his long, dark hair while the other reaches into our picnic basket and cracks off another bit of scone to feed him, and then myself.

I hum and press a kiss to the point of his widow’s peak. “It’s not that complicated, they’re just good.”

He reaches up to stroke a hand soft over the side of my neck and I lean into the touch instinctively. “No nostalgia?”

He doesn’t say it, but I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s noticed a bit how I’ll get just a tad bit weepy when I’m making them. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s noticed how much it means to me that he always gets ingredients for more of them whenever he does the grocery shopping. “I suppose,” I admit, tugging at a stray strand of his hair, “There’s a little nostalgia.”

Baz’s hands are so soft against my neck, so gentle and soothing, he looks so soft like this. We don’t do this sort of thing often. I work too much, he works too much. Days spent in local parks having picnics and lingering just aren’t exactly in the cards for us, but we’ve been making more time for them. He’s taken me on a beach day recently too, but this one was my idea.

“Tell me about it?” Baz asks as I tug on that stray strand of hair again, soothing over it immediately after. “If you want to.”

I nod, still thinking about the sentiment of the park a little bit. It’s a park I used to frequent with Penny, back when she’d been living in the UK too. Baz knows that part, I’d told him that much when I’d planned our little date. When we’d first gotten here, we’d even snapped a couple of selfies that I could send over her way. Or well, really I’d done the snapping of selfies. Baz just sort of quirked his lips for them. He looked nice though. Baz always looked nice in our photos.

Baz also doesn’t send texts like “our old haunting grounds!! I miss you!!” to anyone, really.

He texts a bit like an old man. No emoji, proper punctuation, very little by way of abbreviations or shorthand. I think he mostly uses voice-to-text, which makes sense. His hands are always busy. I kind of think it’s cute.

“Simon?”

Right, we were talking.

“You know how Pen and I used to come here?” I start, and he nods, not really needing the reminder from just this morning. “We used to come here with stolen scones from the boarding school kitchens. I just used to shovel armfulls into my back and ditch and end up all over with them. It was sort of all I ate back then, but honestly… it was the first food I really liked in my childhood.”

Baz knows about my childhood, about how I bounced from foster to foster, from group home to group home. My non-existent concept of family, my struggle with deep relationships and trustworthy adults. Somehow I kept running into the problematic sort in my childhood. But Baz knows all that already. I don’t need to get into it.

He pokes at my chin gently before leaning up slightly to get his own bit of scone, feeding me another bite back. “Who taught you to make them?”

“Ahh…” I think I can feel myself flushing, “I sort of… shilled together the recipe a little bit at a time. I made a lot of mistakes. I may have destroyed at least three baking sheets in the process.”

“Simon,” Baz sounds utterly disbelieving. He looks it too. I have to laugh about it. He should know by know what a danger I can be to common household objects. “Simon Snow, you did not bullshit together a recipe when google exists.”

“I did,” I nod down at him, as disappointed as he is about it. “I did and I had access to google in the school library and I ignored it in favour of ruining Cook Pritchard’s life.”

“You’re terrible,” Baz snorts out. He also leans up to kiss me again, cupping my cheek soft. He’s so full of affection for me. He doesn’t have to say it when he kisses me like that. He says it anyway. “I love you, menace to society that you are.”

I love how he can say something like that, call me something like that, and sound so impossibly fond. “I know you do,” I answer, grinning back at him and leaning back on my elbows. He chases me down for another soft kiss and I lean back again, avoiding him, making him chase me more, making him chase me all the way down until I’m lying fully on the grass and he’s leaning above me and holding my hands and kissing me silly.

I’m laughing through all of it, twisting our hands together and squeezing my fingers over his. I lean up and chase him down for more kisses before he can pull back, before he can get us water or more sour cherry scones or anything else. I love catching him in fits of kissing like this, dragging him back for more and more until we both forget anything else.

I could live off his smile, I think, when he’s kissing me silly like this. He still makes me so bloody giddy and it’s been well over a year and I spend all my free time with him. Everyone says that’ll change, that I’ll get tired of him around all the time. Coworkers, old classmates, old foster siblings and people I knew from therapy and group homes, basically everyone but Pen, but I think they’re sodding insane. They probably think I’m insane for thinking it’s not going to change, but I know myself. I know all I need is that silly bloody smile, that gorgeous bloody laugh, those sweet, bloody tender kisses…

“Tell me more of your favourite foods,” Baz asks between my laughter and his kisses.

I’m a little caught off guard. I’d forgotten we were talking still again, but I just grin up at him. “Anything you make me is my favourite food.”

“That’s cheating, love,” Baz snorts out another laugh, “You have to give a real answer, or else I’m just going to cook for me forever.”

“I like whatever you cook for you,” I shrug under him, chasing down another soft, silly little kiss, a little giddy-drunk-stupid on his affections, “That’s plenty real enough, I think.”

He hums back at me, nipping soft over my lips. “You’ll have to give a real answer sooner or later, Simon, or else we’ll be serving basilla and fattah at our wedding.”

“Okay but I actually do love your fattah.” And I do. I love all his home cooking, but the casual wedding talk is new. Distracing. I can’t help but drift back to it. “You want to marry me?”

He laughs. Of course he bloody laughs. As if it were obvious.

“More than anything.”

He says it so bloody confidently, and I know one day he’s going to ask, and one day I’m going to say yes. I’m not even going to have time to figure out my own plan. He’s already got it all figured out, but I don’t mind. I like that he’s got our lives planned out like this, I like that I can trust him with me like this.

No, more than like it, I love it. “We’re going to have to have cherries in the cake then. That’s my only demand.”

“As if I wasn’t already planning on it.” Baz’s so bloody smug about it, smirking down at me.

I shove a scone in his mouth and shove him over just to wipe that look off his face. “You’re such a bloody prick.”

Unfortunately, he’s still just as smug. “You love this bloody prick.”

“Unfortunately,” I groan back. I can’t commit though. I’m already kissing him bloody stupid all over again. “Unfortunately, I’m going to marry this bloody prick.”

[talesfromsiteredacted]

High Tea With The Family

Seeing as it's my birthday, I thought I'd throw myself a tea party. I've sent out the invitations in advance, I've got everything but the tea itself ready on the cart, once I get to the staff lounge I'll start brewing.

Hmm. Okay, lemon cakes... check. Miniature pecan pies... check. Rainbow candy cookies... check. Blueberry scones... check. And those weird little cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off Dr. Gears is so inexplicably fond of... check. Giant jar of jellybeans... check. Sweet rolls... check. That just leaves the teapots and teas. I hunt down the four biggest teapots I can find, load up my large company tea set, and get to setting up.

To my surprise, it's my favorite member of Site Command that turns up first. Dr. Gears greets me, then starts to set up the tower of lemon cakes. Before long, the buffet is set.

"So, a tea party, Bunny? Isn't 27 a bit old for that?"

"Not for a posh tea party. Come on, Big Boss... I even made the cucumber sandwiches, I'm in a proper tea dress, if I had lace gloves I'd be wearing them."

"You're not kidding."

"Somehow I even talked Alto into wearing a suit, so... yes. Not kidding. Plus, Cain said he'd drop by for a bit, since half the typing pool quit he's been backlogged, poor guy. And my granddad is coming with Iris and Evelyn. I even invited my other brothers in arms, Drs. Iceberg, Myriad, and Glass, plus Draven and Jim. It's my birthday, I'm hosting a family tea. My one regret is there's no way my dad can meet you all. Not being home sucks, but having all of you around makes it less horrible. Kinda think you and my dad would get along, you're both very similar in the best ways. I would have also invited Abel, but he hates Myriad, and I do not feel like breaking up a fight today."

"We're short on E Class, good call. What's the tea menu?"

"Jasmine, earl grey, oolong, and... ginger lemon with honey." Tea kettles are filled, set on the stove top, heated. While we wait, Drs. Glass and Myriad arrive.

"Happy Birthday, Rabbit!" I'm nearly bowled over by Myriad as they bear hug me. "Ooh, tea party! Fancy." This is when I notice the new body, in a blue dress. Gotta say, they look great. Simon then gives me a gentle hug once Myriad lets go. Clef saunters in, wearing his "Yet Another Pointless Ethics Committee Meeting I May Have Been the Direct Cause of" brown suit. The red Polynesian style silk tie is a nice touch. Eyebrows raise when he greets me with a kiss on the cheek.

Once that's over, Granddad arrives with my two special guests. Both my sister and my niece are in yellow dresses, Evie even has a miniature silk sunflower tucked behind her ear.

"I thought you were kidding, Sis. But... this is, indeed, a tea party. There's scones and everything."

Dr. Iceberg arrives last, bearing regrets from Draven and Jim. Oopsie, forgot it was their long-delayed honeymoon this week. But, while my MTF brothers aren't here, a massive tiramisu is. I'm flabbergasted, Dr. Iceberg remembered after all. Okay, now that almost everybody is here, time to get back to the kettles and brewing tea. Just in time, they were about to really whistle. Tea is brewed, lemonade is fetched from the fridge... time for tea.

We're all seated around the table, eating and drinking. Three cookies and two glasses of lemonade in, Evie starts singing "Happy Birthday". Once the song is done, I politely clink my teacup with a spoon.

"Aside from my birthday... I bet you're all wondering why you're here. Very simply, I consider all of you my family. I've never really had a normal family gathering, thought I'd give it a go. It's a small thing, but it matters to me. I love all of you, even if some of you create way too much paperwork for me sometimes." A laugh as I side eye Clef and Myriad, the biggest offenders there. "You guys have made all the weird stuff bearable. Thank you."

"Hey, we're just one big anomalous family here, right? Besides, couldn't ask for a better sister, Rabbit. That being said, I know you said no gifts, but... I went ahead and got you one." Myriad passes me a small box, I open it. It's just a mug, black with our logo. But... under it is my new title, and a phrase I'll treasure... "Little Sister".

"Myr... you know what this means, right? You and TJ are both getting those light up Mario Star lamps on your birthdays now. Thanks. I needed a new mug, Liam kinda knocked mine over a while back."

"I, uh... also have something for you, but it's going to have to wait until later." I roll my eyes at Clef. I can only imagine. I feel my face getting warmer, just as Cain pops his head in.

"Hello, Little Sister! I was on my way back from a break, and just wanted to say a fast 'happy birthday' on passing." He blinks. "I think I missed something. I am not sure if I want to know. As I said, happy birthday." Off he goes. On that note, the party breaks up. Iris, Evie and I pack up the leftovers. Everybody gets a sampler platter, with a few spares for delivery. Hey, if 682 is cool with Evie, he gets birthday goodies too. Plus... even if things didn't exactly work with 049, I'm still fond of him. There's a few others too, like Abel and Dimitriov. Once that's done, it's time for Rabbit's Delivery Service to drop off care packages.

[bullet-prooflove]

favorite form of potato?

how’s your spice tolerance?

What’s a troupe you love to write?

Top 5 fave foods?

Best way to make a grilled cheese?

Pineapple on pizza or no?

Fave movies?

Top 5 one chicago characters?

Top 3 svu characters?

FMK: joe, duarte, carisi

FMK: antonio, jay, adam

FMK: peter stone, barba, amaro

FMK: grace, amanda, kat

Okay. Im done with this one now 😂😂💕💕

So this was amazing to recieve and I was planning my answers all yesterday!

Potato: Fries, I am a lover of the fries.

Spice: I have a really sensitive sense of smell and taste so I am mild spice, I like abit of kick but nothing that is going to blow my head off.

Trope: It's becoming the grump and the sunshine one. Like looking back at some of the stuff I have written, I haven't even realised I was doing it until now.

Pineapple on pizza is a firm no for me as I have an allergy.

Fave Foods: Cake - obessed, cheese fries, kitkats, donuts, bakewell scones

Fave Movies: Oceans 8, I could watch over and over and over again.

Top 5 Chicago Chars: Mouse, Antonio, Kim, Will, Brian, Connor

Top 3 SVU chars: Joe, Mike Duarte and Munch

FMK: - This is one is a toughie - Marry Joe - because he is just the best partner. Fuck Mike - I wanna marry him but Joe is just a little bit softer. And sorry Carisi, I am killing you but I promise I will make it quick.

FMK: Marry Antonio, Fuck Jay if I had to and defo press a pillow over Adam's face.

FMK: Marry Peter Stone - althought I feel it would be tempestous, Fuck Barba - I feel like he is pure flith in bed. Sorry Nick!

FMK: Marry Grace - I feel like you could have some proper fun with her. Fuck: Amanda and Kat got a bit boring so kill Kat

[secretdestinypainter]

Love for my "GRANDMAA"

There’s no denying that my love for my grandmother is strong.

What some may not know is why she is so incredibly special to me.

For an obvious reason, she is my grandmother and that alone would be reason to love her, but my love for my grandma runs much deeper.

I grew up right next door to my grandmother, so “going to Grandma’s house” was a daily occurrence for me.

She is the first stop when I arrive home and is always my last stop before I head back.

All my life, my grandma has done so much for me and there will never be a day or moment when I am not thankful for her.

Aside from the obvious cooking, baking and sewing, she has shown me so much love, more than I deserve, through the smallest actions.

Over the years, our bond has become undeniably strong. We love many of the same things like hot tea, musicals, records and of course….shopping. It’s our favorite sport (besides golf)!

These are the moments I hold so dear to my heart. Each time we are together, the conversation never stops and it’s as though we never skipped a beat.

Even when I am away, she is not far from my mind and I know I am not far from hers. Something each day reminds me of her. Whether I see a beautiful flower in bloom or smell baked goods in the grocery store, she is always on my mind…which is how it should be, right?

I feel so lucky to love someone so deeply for reasons that often leave me speechless and bring such joy to my heart.

My grandma is one of my top priorities and I make a point to always make her feel special and loved unconditionally, because that is exactly what she is..so undeniably special.

It’s hard to choose what I love most about her because she has so many wonderful qualities.

If I were to choose just one, I would say her greatest attribute would be her patience. She listens so intently, and this is something that I believe I have learned from her.

There is something so admirable about having a conversation with someone who truly listens to you. For me, she is that person, and I know she will always listen to each and every word I say.

She and I have shared so many memories together. I can write a series of books on the life lessons she has taught me and the many wonderful moments we have shared together. Not even kidding, I think they would be best sellers!

Fun fact…when I was little, we had a secret mailbox hidden in our warehouse where she and I would exchange a letter to one another every day!

Just the other day, she showed me the letters. Can you believe she saved every single letter I wrote her?! I was so surprised and unbelievably touched.

Even as a small child, my love for her was strong. Though my writing was child-like, the words expressed a message of love.

Over the years, we have laughed and cried our way through so many things. We have solved the world’s problems over tea and scones and managed to brighten each other’s day with a simple phone call or text. (She’s a 90 year old woman who rocks at iMessage, y’all)!

I would break any date (and have a couple of times- true story) to spend time with her. The time we spend together is always quality and precious.

As odd as this may sound, watching her grow older has been one of the greatest experiences of my life. There is just something so special about watching a person you love grow older.

I have watched her age so gracefully and somehow, she manages to get more beautiful by the day.

I feel as though I am growing with her and that alone brings such a warm feeling to my heart.

She may not realize this, but a large part of my heart belongs to her and always will. What she also may not realize is, that for the last 26 years, I have been watching her intently and learning from her words and actions.

She has modeled elegance and grace through the hardest times of her life and has perfected the art of a proper hug. (She really does give the best hugs, guys)!

She is the most dependable, honest, genuine and loving person I know. She loves everyone and everything with her whole and entire heart, which is a rare quality to find in a person.

What I hope she realizes is, that in 91 years, she has become something so great which surpasses what our generation may view as a successful, modern woman.

She is my grandmother, my best friend, the absolute most wonderful person in my life, my rock, and my everything.

To the woman who inspires and supports my every word and action, you will never know just how much I love you.

I love you more.

[missspringthyme]

January 6th, 2024

My cousin and his wife invited my sister, mom, and I to a "British themed tea house but I I woke up really late and needed to shower, so I told them to go ahead and I would get there later.

When I arrived, they had pretty much finished eating their sandwiches and treats and I felt pretty bad about how long it had taken for me to get there.

When I ate my scones, I put the clotted cream on top and everyone talked about how unlike the rest of them, I had done it the 'proper' way because I lived in the UK. I have no idea what the unproper way is.

The tea house was such a weird experience, there was a cardboard cutout of Lizzie and banner flags of Charles everywhere. In the corner, a woman on a harp played the entire Phantom of the Opera soundtrack. The most authentic part was that the food wasn't great (get wrecked Britain).

On the more interpersonal side, I sometimes struggle with my cousin and his wife because they're a little socially awkward. His wife is autistic but has done a lot of ABA, so sometimes talking to her makes me a little sad. It's almost like you can see her working really hard to be seen as normal and fun, but all I want to do is tell her that conversations would be a lot more fun if I didn't see her doing things that make her uncomfortable just to make other people comfortable.

My cousin, on the other hand, is a very classic 'um actually' nerd. I'm glad that they seem happy together though.

I left after an hour to go meet a friend at the place we always go to (Victorian school turned resturants/bars/coffee shops/art venue) and as always we talked for 5 hours. She thinks she might have OCD, last time she thought maybe ADHD.

We talked about different symptom profiles and neurobiology, but I also told her about the spectrum approach to mental illness and how focusing too much on a specific label may not be the best approach. Regardless, I hope she gets the answers she's looking for.

She apologized to me for constantly asking me questions about that type of thing, but what's the point of getting a master's in neuropsychology if I can't explain how the amygdala works using bad drawings in the notes app of my phone for my friends.

When I got home, I got sucked into a way too long and emotionally exhausting conversation with my mom. The first bit was insane, she told me she doesn't want to see me playfighting with my little sister in front of her because she is uncomfortable seeing me bully her. I said that was very unfair and didn't involve her, and also that my sister initiates just as much of the playfighting. The amount of times that I explained that it was a way we showed affection to each other, and that it was unfair to be treating me like an aggressor when we're both adults.

I found out later my mom went to my sister afterwards and asked her if she was okay with it, which is just incredibly funny to me. My mom keeps telling me we can't make any progress if I don't let my guard down, and I keep telling her that my guard went up in the first place because of behaviour that she has yet to change or even acknowledge.

I don't know how to stop going in circles with her. I finally managed to get my stuff together to switch over to my dad's house, so now I'm looking forward to a bit more space to relax before I finish winter break.

[misterellyott]

In June I started working overnights at a small, but beautiful resort.

It has 22 rooms and is outside the city surrounded by a vineyard owned by the same person who owns the resort.

On the outside looking in and even in pictures, it's absolutely beautiful. It's got a large man made lake, for the vineyard, it's got a decent sized yard with plenty of grass, a heated swimming pool, and a stunning view of the surroundings.

However, working here hasn't always been the most fun someone could have working for a hotel.

We are constantly short staffed, mostly due to our upper management letting go of the hotel manager and not making any active steps to hire a new one. And not really taking any steps to hire for understaffed positions, housekeeping and cooks.

At first the overnight position was amazing. It's super simple, easy to get the hang of. And with some of my free time at night I have expanded and taken on some tasks that weren't my responsibly.

However, now due to them being short staffed in housekeeping they are trying to shadily slowly but surely pass off a lot of their tasks to me.

Such as, taking out all trashes in the kitchen and bathrooms, keeping the bathrooms stocked with toilet paper/paper towels/hand soap, sweep the bathrooms, make sure the bar is clean, and to sometimes do dishes in the kitchen.

While I very much believe in being a team player, i.e. helping when other coworkers are sick, or seeing something I could easily do real quick to make one less task for the next shift, etc.

I am not about to take on a housekeeping roll without extra pay. The amount of tasks they are slowly piling on me will begin to eat away at all my time I have for my other tasks that I have to do at night in order to make sure the day shift runs smoothly.

Sure, I still have a few down time moments, but most my night is constant motion. I sit for maybe a combined hour at most.

If they don't want to pay me more, than they either need to move some of my tasks, like polishing the silverware and rolling them into napkins, setting up the coffee bar, putting ice in the bar, making the coffee/hot water, watering the flowers, folding the pool towels and putting them out, putting the dirty pool towels in the laundry room, etc, on to other shifts.

I'm not a one man show. Sure, I could cut out some of my time by not walking out to the bungalows and use the golf cart instead, but I enjoy the time walking in the night in the cool weather instead of being cooped up in the hot as hell buildings.

But, the fact remains. More work requires more pay. I'm happy to help out in as many ways as I can that don't take me over 15-20 minutes, but I'm not about to take on tasks that could add well over 2 hours of work a night and still be expected to make the same paycheck.

That being said, I have begun looking for a different overnight job in the event that my boss tries to fire me for not taking on these addition tasks due to his unwillingness to ensure that they have enough housekeeping to do them.

I absolutely hate job hunting, it's mentally exhausting. I've been here three months and really thought that this place was going to be a wonderful job that I could stay long term as they have really good health insurance as well.

But the whole place is slowly going downhill every day.

From serving hand made scones and muffins, which were amazing, to the premade just pop in the oven kind that taste like shit.

To dishwashers that can't even properly sort and get the silverware ready for me to polish at night so I have to waste a ton of time sorting them into their proper containers in order to even begin polishing and folding them.

To lazy coworkers that refuse to pick up after guests leaving me spending a good chunk of time collecting all the used plates and glasses and doing their dishes, when they had more than three hours to have done so.

To other coworkers complaining that my polishing job isn't good enough and I need to do better before folding them, even though I take my time and polish every single one sometimes taking over two hours to do.

And now them trying to pawn off housekeeping jobs onto the night shift.

I don't know where to go from here other than find another job.

I don't have time to sit down and speak with my boss when he is here about everything as he gets here long after I'm already home and in bed before going to my day job.

Now, to find the time for interviews. yay.

[magicbystarlight]

One For Sorrow, Two For Joy - The Plan

*Bonus Content*

Series Masterlist

Summary: It's been weeks since you were forced into hiding during your final year at Hogwarts and things are looking dire for you and the rest of the DA. But you've got a plan.

Word Count: 2889

Warnings: An eating disorder brought on by trauma has a large focus in this. If you or someone you know is suffering from an eating disorder, you can find resources here and here. There is also mentions of food rationing and forced memory loss.

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @charmingandfantasticfics

One For Sorrow, Two For Joy Taglist: @byelannie @sugasthreedollarkookie @bethanystan @maralisa124 @confusedcrayon

April 1998

"You have to eat something."

Your weary eyes landed on Cho as she held out a plate with a roll and potatoes. Meat and other vegetables had been scarce by time April rolled in, with Aberforth only able to order so much food without raising suspicion. "I had lunch. I'm fine, really. Give it to the First Years."

"You had lunch yesterday. And you only ate half a scone for breakfast. You can't keep doing this; the body needs food," she insisted as she shoved the plate towards you.

It would do you no good to outright refuse her. She was persistent. "I'll take this," you picked up the roll, "but please, give the potatoes to the kids."

She let out a frustrated sigh but left with the small victory. You watched from afar as she rationed out tiny portions of the potatoes among the group of First Years. You’d cycle between the youngest Years, trying to ensure they'd all get a bit more, but it never felt like enough. Their stomachs rumbled and many would be lethargic on the days between proper meals.

Cho looked back at you before she returned through the tunnel to the Hog's Head, only going through once you raised the roll and gave her a tight-lipped smile. As soon as the portrait closed behind her you made your way over to a couple of Third Years, offering them the roll under the guise that you were feeling full. They graciously accepted and you could see them take it over to a couple more friends and share the small piece of bread.

"I think you actually have to eat something to be full."

"Shove off and bother someone else, McLaggen." He'd joined some time the week after you had, along with nearly a dozen others. From the moment he'd gotten there all he had done was complain. About the food, the lack of space, his bed not having enough pillows. Nothing seemed to be up to his standards. His favorite pastime seemed to be bothering you.

"Sorry, but I got orders from Longbottom to round up anyone over seventeen. You're my last stop, love."

Your wand found itself at the boy's throat. "Call me that again, and you won't be speaking for a week."

His smug smile didn't waver as he prodded, "Go ahead and try it, love. You and I both know that you haven't got the energy to make anything last more than a couple minutes." He waited expectantly as you glowered at him. "That's what I thought. Now come on we don't want to keep everyone waiting, do we love?"

Never in your life had you wanted to hit anybody as much as you did him. He offered his arm, but you ignored the arrogant prick and stalked off to the back room where the meeting had to be taking place. It was rare when Neville called a meeting like this. He wanted to run things fairly and most of the decisions were done as an entire group where everyone had a say, not just the adults. Only two meetings had occurred before while you’d been there and both had been about rationing the food.

All the Seventh Years and the Sixth Years that were of age were already waiting in the room, forming a semicircle with Neville as their center. "That's the last of 'em," McLaggen said, shutting the door behind him

"Great, thanks Cormac. Alright, so as you all know Aberforth has been having trouble getting food. Yesterday, he had a visit from Death Eaters asking about him ordering more food, but having fewer visitors. He was able to talk his way out of any suspicion they had, but he's going to have to cut down on his orders even more, at least for a bit."

Groans and profanity echoed across the group. Many of them already gave up a couple meals a week to keep the rations at a healthy level for the younger students. It felt like every time the group made it back from the verge of drowning, something would pull you under again.

"I know, guys, but we don't have any choice. Some food is better than nothing."

"What about the kitchens?" someone asked.

"Yeah, what happened to that house elf? Doggy, was it?"

Neville's already grave face dropped more. "Dobby is in hiding. There's a price for his head. He told me that the others would help, but that they're too afraid of getting caught to come to us."

More groans from the others. Hopeless faces all around.

"What if we go to them?" you asked.

He shook his head. "We plan to when Micheal finishes the Polyjuice Potion, but that's still a couple weeks away. Until then it's too dangerous. If someone gets caught it'll put all of us at risk."

If someone were to get caught, they’d be tortured brutally until they gave up the location of everyone or until they died. Either way, it wouldn't be ideal and few people would volunteer for such a mission.

Still, you chewed your lip as Neville discussed the new rationing that would start in the morning. There had to be a way. The threat of getting caught wasn't going to go away nor was the punishment of getting caught. But what someone would know if they got caught...that could change.

"What if we use a Forgetfulness Potion?" you interrupted.

The group turned to you. "Um, well I don't think that would be helpful considering we'd need to remember where to go," Neville said apologetically.

"No, no." You shook your head. "We would take it if we got caught. I know it's a simple potion that usually isn't very specific, but we could make it specific. I'm sure we have all the ingredients for it."

Neville contemplated while everyone looked on eagerly. People discussed what ingredients they had, those better at potions mentioning the new ingredients that could be added to make the potion work. It seemed to be going in the right direction.

"If you get caught, I doubt you'll have time to take out a potion and drink it before they bind you," McLaggen offered helpfully.

Prick.

The hope that had been building in the room burst. "He's right," Neville said.

Hannah stepped forward. "What if we put the potion into a capsule like the Muggles do?"

You could have kissed her. It was bloody brilliant. If you could tell Mum that watching those old war documentaries she loved so much would actually become useful one day, it would be the best day of her life. "Like a Cyanide Pill."

She nodded, a small smile on her face knowing that it wasn't a crazy thought.

McLaggen asked, "What is a Sigh Need Bill?"

It wasn't a surprise that most Pureblood or even Half-bloods didn't know what it was, but it was still difficult not to roll your eyes and use a not so polite tone when you explained what it was to him. It was for the benefit of the group after all. "It's something Muggles use during war. They put a fast acting poison into a small vial- small enough to swallow. They either keep it somewhere accessible or in their mouths, and if they get caught by an enemy they just bite down on it."

Hannah and yiu fielded a few questions from those curious, but as they started getting off topic you put an end to it.

"Look," you said to Neville, "This is a viable option. Maybe our only option other than possibly starving for weeks. The kids need this. We need this. If we can make the potion and get it into a vial by tomorrow night, I'll go then."

Cho and Seamus were quick to object. They'd been protective since you’d gotten there, each trying to offer their support after what had happened. A few others chimed in saying it shouldn't have to be you.

Then they started to fight amongst themselves who should go. Seamus, Cho, Neville, Hannah, Ernie, and Micheal all claimed it should be them. The Hufflepuffs claimed that they knew their ways to the kitchen better than anyone, the Ravenclaws arguing that they have better routes downstairs, while the Gryffindor boys tried to say that they should go because the others shouldn't have to.

Silencio.

With a jab of you wand, the room fell silent and all eyes were back on you.

"While you are all being very honorable, you're also being rather stupid. Seamus, Cho, Hannah - you're all the ones in charge of your House. Micheal and Ernie, you both have siblings or cousins in here looking to you for support. And Neville, you're keeping everyone in here alive. None of you should go because you're too valuable here. I've done nothing but mope around for weeks, it's time I actually start contributing. Besides, this was my plan."

A hand landed softly on your shoulder and you looked up to meet the eyes of McLaggen. He pointed to his mouth and raised his eyebrows. Of course he had something to say. You shook off his hand and unsilenced him.

He cleared his throat a couple of times as if to test if he could actually make a sound. "I think she's right. It should be her."

The others raised their hands in angry questions, Seamus giving him an obscene gesture. You didn't know whether you should be thanking him for agreeing with you or punching him for wanting to get rid of you.

"But," he added, taking a step away from you, "She shouldn't go alone. I'll go with her."

"Fuck no." You couldn't stop yourself. You’d rather hand yourself over to the Carrows than go with him.

He gave me his usual smile. "Think about it, love. I may not be the most intelligent or the most patient or the most cunning- "

"You could say that again."

" -but I am the fastest. On legs or broom. And if we need a quick escape, a broom would be the best way. I know for a fact Madam Hooch leaves all the broom sheds unlocked, so if we need to call one it'd be quick."

If the Carrows or Snape caught you, you couldn't see the two of you actually making an escape on a broom. There were just too many ways to interfere with the flight path. But if only one of you was on that broom and the other stayed behind as a distraction, then everyone here would still get food. You didn't doubt that McLaggen would need little persuasion to leave you behind if it saved his own arse.

He was also very good on a broom. Sarah used to...

No. No. You couldn't think about her. Not yet.

"Fine," you said. "McLaggen and I will go for the food. Neither of us has been pulling our full weight around here, anyway."

From the sounds of shuffling feet, you could tell the charm over the group was evaporating, but they remained silent. You were right.

Neville finally broke the silence. "We'll decide it how we always do: with a vote." He nodded and everyone fell back into the semi-circle around him.

"All those in favor of them going," he said, watching what seemed like half the room raise their arm in support. You took a quick tally. With yourself included, you had just over half the room.

"All those opposed." Neville himself raised his hand, as did Cho and Seamus, but they had already been outnumbered.

"Those in favor have the majority. Ernie and Micheal, please consult with Hannah about making the potion. Cho and Seamus, I need you two to ration out the food a little more for tomorrow's meals. I want to make sure they have full meals. And as for you two," he said looking between McLaggen and you, "get a full night's rest. You're going to need it."

With that, he dismissed everyone.

-

Far away from the others, you sat hidden in a corner with a small radio and a book of spells that had mysteriously appeared in your trunk a few months prior. Potterwatch was due to come on soon according to the message Ginny had sent Neville earlier across their coins. It was rare when such a broadcast would be made, so rare that this was only the third time they'd broadcasted in the weeks you’d been here.

It was a good distraction, too. You, Hannah, Ernie, and Michael had been up late trying to figure out the potion despite Neville's orders. It was easy to strengthen it, to the point where it would knock out a few weeks worth of memories, but you had too much knowledge of the DA and even the Order that a few weeks weren't enough. You had come up with a solution, however.

Adding in knotgrass and your DA coin, the potion would target those memories. If you had to take it, it was likely you would lose most if not all memories that could be connected to that coin. Months of your life would suddenly disappear. Realizing the gravity of the potion, the others tried to back out and find another solution, but there wasn't time. And for the sake of everyone else, it was a risk worth taking for you.

Going over the spells for the hundredth time (you hadn't had the guts to test any of them yet for fear it was left maliciously), you sat dutifully waiting for the show to start. It was a small, stupid hope that you had that made you listen despite the pain it brought you. You thought that maybe, just maybe, Dad and Sarah had actually made it out and they'd only fake their deaths to avoid being targets. It wasn't likely, but it was all you had.

It came on, Lee's voice masquerading as River once again. More death. What sounded like your DADA professor from years ago gave an update on two more people who'd been arrested in connection to their support of Harry and attesting to the fact that he was still out there fighting.

"Mind if I join you, love?" McLaggen, two plates in hand, had managed to sneak up on you while you were engrossed in the show.

"I do, actually."

He ignored the objection, sliding down the wall to sit right next to you, causing you to move so you didn't have to touch him. He held a plate out in front of you.

"Not hungry," you said, pushing it away.

He shoved it back towards you again. "You're going to eat anyway."

"No."

He sat the plate in your lap. "It's not a request. Either you eat or I'll let Neville and Cho know that you've been skipping twice the amount of meals you should have for two weeks. Are you willing to risk our trip to the kitchens tonight?"

You glowered at the plate, a drumstick, cubed potatoes, and assorted vegetables staring back. You hadn’t realized anyone else had noticed. "What's it matter to you?"

"You'll be a liability out there if you aren't functioning properly from starvation. Can't have that, can we love?" You choked down a rather nasty remark and took a bite off the plate. He seemed satisfied at his victory, allowing you to eat without further comment.

"And next, we have our dear friend Raven on today in place of Rapier to give you the latest take on the Chief Death Eater and the improbable rumors surrounding him. Welcome, Raven!"

A familiar voice resonated from the speakers. "Thanks, River! Happy to be here today to help dispel some of those fun little gossips that have been floating about."

His name came out breathlessly from your lips. "George." He was still alive and well.

"Is it? Could be the other one," McLaggen said.

"...sad to say that I can confirm Noseless does in fact fly. According to our research, his grandfather appears to have been a sentient broom."

"Can you imagine the splinters?" River joked.

"No, it's definitely George. His voice is deeper."

"I didn't realize you were close with them," McLaggen said.

Your now empty plate clattered against the floor as you set it aside. "I'm not."

"Ahh. One of their admirers then? Part of their fan club? Which one's your favorite? Would either do? Have you already thrown yourself at them or are you waiting in hopes one will notice you?"

Your wand pressed against his neck for the second time in two days. "For once in your life, shut the fuck up. Just because you're too fucking stupid to tell the difference between the two of them, doesn't mean everyone else is. And if you're jealous of the attention they get from women, maybe you shouldn't be such a self-serving, egotistical douche and you might actually get lucky."

He cocked his head to the side, looking amused. "I've got your attention, love, and that's good enough for me."

"You're disgusting."

"And you're hot when you're angry."

"Mimblewimble."

He made some sounds of annoyance as the Tongue-Tying Jinx took effect, but you didn't bother sticking around to listen. You’d have to deal with him in a few hours, but until then you would enjoy a nap.

Part Eight

[juliettecxi]

Two times Alastair let go of Thomas's hand, and the one time he didn't Ι Thomastair

ship: Thomas x Alastair

series: The last hours

Genre and warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff, canon divergence, this was supposed to be angst with major character death, idk what happened

Prompt list | Writing playlist

The first time Alastair let go of Thomas's hand, it had been at the academy.

Thomas knew he was different. Unlike his peers, he viewed girls, as well, just girls. Wherein it was the boys who caught his eye.

Alastair Carstairs, despite his stoic demeanor and crude words thrown at his friends, fascinated Thomas. He was striking to say the least, and slowly, Thomas would catch him thinking of Alastair unprompted.

One time he was late to class, due to having overslept that morning. Without proper time to organize his things, he'd gathered up his textbooks in his hands, piled on top of each other, and dashed down the stairs towards the classroom. Unable to see what was in front of him, or below him for that matter, Thomas tripped and fell, his books flying around him as he landed as he landed hard on his ass.

Thomas groaned in pain, but was relieved that no one was there to witness the spectacle.

"Are you okay?" In front of Thomas stood Alastair, his eyebrows raised, slight amusement dancing on his features.

Thomas's face heated up and he looked down in embarrassment. He felt something in front of him and he looked up.

Alastair was holding out his hand to Thomas, waiting for him to take it.

Thomas took it wearily, and with the help of Alastair, stoop up , while the former had a small amused smile gracing his features. Thomas shyly smiled at Alastair, before realizing their hands were still intertwined. Alastair noticed at the same time, and he immediately let go of his hand and continued up the stairs.

The second time Alastair let go of Thomas's hand, it had been in Paris.

Spending even a minute in Paris with Alastair was never in Thomas's plans, yet here they were, dining together, going to the pictures and engaging in idle chatter.

The place on his forearm where Alastair ran his finger on Thomas's tattoo still tingled, and Thomas tried his level best to dismiss it.

"Oh that bakery looks wonderful." said Alastair, a small smile on his lip. "Come on Thomas, let's go there."

Thomas followed an exited Alastair, an amused smile on his lips. This was a side he'd never seen on the other boy before, and Thomas liked it. It was nice to be around him, and it made Thomas feel warm inside.

The bakery was warm, and reminded Thomas of his mother's scones He chuckled slightly thinking about his family. He missed them dreadfully, but something about the boy accompanying him dulled the pain.

"What would you like to order?" Alastair asked, and Thomas observed all the pastries. He made a sideways glance at Alastair, who was admiring them with an almost childish glint of delight in his eyes.

Maybe it reminded him of good times with his own family.

After much contemplation and multiple order changes later, they finally sat down at the table, after paying the cashier. Thomas had wanted to split the bill, but Alastair was adamant that he paid for it himself.

"You can pay me back later." he said, with a laugh, and Thomas grinned.

They shared the Crepes, Cannelés, Macaroons and Croissants among themselves, both of them eagerly savouring the taste of the delicacies.

Once they were done they engaged in idle chatter and Thomas got to see more of this unknown side of the other.

"Thank you for today," he said, and Alastair grinned at him.

"It was my pleasure, Thomas."

They shook hands, and Thomas noticed the way Alastair's hand fit in his own; the callouses of his fingers; warrior hands.

They both seemed to be lingering, basking in each other's touch.

Thomas took in a shaky breath, and was about to speak, when Alastair let go.

"Thank you for today Thomas, I enjoyed your company." and with one last smile, he walked away.

Thomas used to wonder, why Icarus flew too close to the sun. What prompted him to throw caution to the wind. He'd often think that Icarus was a fool, blinded by euphoria, and him plummeting to his death wasn't all that unexpected.

Alas, now as he gripped on to Alastair's thick dark curls, and tilted his head to the side to deepen their kiss, he understood exactly why Icarus had flown too close. Thomas realized that plummeting to his death had been worth it.

Thomas never thought he would be accused of murder, much less arrested by the clave for that matter, and yet here he was, with the inquisitor glaring daggers at him, while Aunt Charlotte tried her best to reel him back. What was even more unexpected was Alastair Carstairs himself coming to Thomas's defense, resulting in the both of them being held in the institute sanctuary together.

Things took a turn for the better, and Thomas found himself stroking the soft tips of Alastair's hair, while the other gazed at him.

"I wish Paris was the first time we met." Alastair said, breaking the silence. "I wish the academy never happened, I wish... things were different."

Thomas sighed and brought both his hands down and held Alastair's warm ones.

"Maybe our story would have been happier, and our future a little easier. Things wouldn't be so complicated." he began, and smiled at Alastair, "But what matters now is we focus on the present, we each have our own loose strings to tie, so we take it one step at a time, and everything will be alright."

"You're really something else aren't you Thomas?" Alastair said and placed his head on his shoulder.

Thomas leaned into him and looked at their intertwined hands. This time they did not let go.

A/N: Hello!! Thank you so much for reading! Please, please let me know if you enjoyed this fic, it would mean so much to me :')

taglist: @fortheloveofthecarstairs @writeforjordelia @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @themadhatter999 @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @arangiajoan (let me know if you would like to be added or removed, or simply do so here)

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

(fem!reader)

(Beautiful Times AU.)

When ALOIS watches you with Luka, he can’t help but feel his heart melt at the thought that you’re going to be such a great mother.

You take care of Alois’ little brother, despite the fact that Luka’s an adult now and the fact that you’re pretty heavily pregnant at the moment. Although, he’s not sure he believes it when you give the excuse that if you don’t move around you get sore; he thinks you just like taking care of people and can’t bear not to do it.

You make sure to keep Luka’s endless appetite satisfied, always pushing biscuits or vegetables or bread at him and fussing that he’s too thin. (Alois doesn’t buy your ‘worries’ for a second. Luka’s skinny as a rail, sure, but you’ve seen how he puts food away and you know he’s in no danger of wasting away or anything like that.)

You give Luka ample hugs and ruffle his hair. Every single time, without fail, he leans into the touches, giggling, happily returning hugs and kissing your cheek and asserting that you are the best big sister ever. (Alois always teases by says, “Well, what’s Hannah, then? You’re going to hurt her feelings!” Only for Luka to declare that Hannah is the best mum, of course.)

You let Luka climb in bed with you and Alois when he’s had a bad dream. You call him ‘sweetpea’. You rub a handkerchief over his face when he’s managed to get himself dirty playing in the garden. You help take care of him when he’s sick.

Even now, he’s watching you run a wet comb through Luka’s ginger hair, trying to get him presentable for his first proper date. Even though Luka is pouting, and fretting about what this girl will think of him, he gives you a tight hug once you’re done, thanking you profusely before running off so Hannah can help him get dressed.

Alois, meanwhile, can’t take his eyes off you. He’s sitting there with his plate of scones untouched, cheek propped up on his hand, staring at you.

Maybe it’s strange to think, maybe it means there’s something wrong with him, but he’s almost jealous of his unborn child, because he wishes he had a mother like the one he anticipates you to be.

You’re kind and caring and good-hearted, even when the rest of the world might not be. You seem to have given Alois himself many second chances, and if there’s an end to your patience with him as he tries to heal, he’s not found the end of it yet.

He can imagine your little one taking their first steps, and falling down, and crying, only for you to swoop in and pick them up, giving them a kiss and a cuddle and making it all better. He’s seen you do similar to Luka, and felt you do similar to himself.

You don’t get to hear all the soft things that Alois is thinking right now. You do, however, get to see the absolutely lovesick way he’s looking at you as you reach for one of the scones on his plate. Raising it up to his lips, you finally bring him out of his reverie with a laugh. “Is something wrong, Alois? You look rather lost in thought, bluebell.”

“... I suppose I was for a moment.” He smiles back at you, taking just a small bite. “I’m sorry. It’s just... I was thinking...” With that, he pushes the pastry back your way. “... That our child is going to be very lucky.”

“Aah! Really? Well... yes, I think, but... why were you thinking?”

“Why? Because they’ll get to have you for a mum.”

“Mm.” You set the scone down, then lean over to give him a kiss. The flavor lingers on both your lips, though Alois finds himself not caring. He’d kiss you a thousand times over even if you tasted like bloody nothing. When you pull away, you’re running your fingers through his hair. “I hope they get your laugh. They’ll be quite lucky then.”

And when you kiss him again, you get treated to that laugh, shifting against your lips.

Before you’ve even parted, his hand has dipped down to rest against your stomach. “Well,” he murmurs, “I’m lucky too, I think.”

After all, this is the life he’s been dreaming about.

He hopes he never wakes up from it.

[mithrilhearts]

CHAPTER 7 ↳ NOW ON AO3!

May Your Forge Burn Bright by LordOfTheRazzles

Dear Thorin,

We’re all glad to hear you made it back safely and now have a proper place to stay. This is good news, indeed! Mister Baggins seems like such a generous sort, it would be nice to meet him one day. I owe him many thanks for the kindness he has given you, because while you may not notice it, brother, your mood has changed.

Enough of that, I should tell you that Fili and Kili love the gifts you brought them. I’m almost afraid that Fili sleeps with the thing under his pillow! Then again, how is that not surprising? You’ve been handing him blades since he was a pebble, and his love for them hasn’t changed.

The boys are still working with Dwalin on hunts, and have spoken of perhaps taking up work with some of the merchant caravans. That means visiting the Shire, and even as far as Rivendell. It would be good for them to see the world, I know, but after their father died…

...I know you’d just tell me that I’m worrying, that I need to let go and let them explore. I just worry. You three are all I have, and I’d be beside myself should anything happen to any of you. This is why Mister Baggins coming into your life when he did was a saving grace not only for you but for me as well. I was worried for you, Thorin. I genuinely am pleased that you seem happier and less willing to work yourself into an early grave.

Do give him my thanks for the scone recipe, I’m sure the boys will love them. As will Dwalin and Balin, those sons of Fundin may have a bigger sweet tooth than you. Or perhaps just Dwalin.

Oin has predicted that you’ll be able to see the northern lights from just about anywhere on this side of the Misty Mountains for the next week or so. I know you enjoy the sights, you best make the most of them while you can.

One last thing before I call this letter long enough. I’ve sent a gift and you will not send it back! You’ve done honorably by our people, and namely by me, Thorin. You deserve this. A few of the traders here were setting off for the east and agreed to drop this off on their way. Master Dori helped me a bit with some of the stitching, but I do hope you like it. It’s not just from me, brother, but our friends and family. It’s been ages since you’ve received something new for yourself. Please make good use of it.

I wish you the best! Hopefully business is going well, do write soon.

With love,

Dis, Daughter of Thrain

[shisekibo]

[Story Translation] Chapter One -  Would You Like Breakfast? [Part Two]

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Devil’s Palace - Dining Room

Lono:

 “Good mornin’, Master! Breakfast’s almost done so go ahead and take a seat!”

Berrien:

 “Now, now, Lono. Aren’t you being a little disrespectful to our Master?”

Lono:

 “Oh! R-right, yeah...”

Lono:

 “Um... What do I say, again?”

Lono:

 “Please take a seat and wait, if you’d like...? God, being polite is hard.”

Lono:

 “Anyway, please just wait a bit longer! I’ll have breakfast ready in no time!”

Choices:

“Thank you.”

“I’m excited to see what you’ll make.”

At my reply, Lono began to expertly arrange the breakfast table. 

Lono:

 “Right then, Master. Breakfast is served.”

Lono:

 “Today’s breakfast is baked beans, hash browns and poached egg.”

Lono:

 “There are also some freshly baked scones, if you’ d like.”

Choices:

“What a fancy breakfast...”

“How extravagant...”

Muu:

 “It smells soooo good~! Did you make this all yourself, Mr. Lono?”

Lono:

 “Of course I did! I make all the food here!”

Muu:

 “You look like such a rascal but your food is so good. I’m shocked, Mr. Lono!”

Lono:

 “Who are you callin’ a rascal? I’m not makin’ you breakfast no more.”

Muu:

 “I-I’m sorry!”

Lono:

 “Hahaha! I’m jokin’, I’m jokin’!

Muu:

 “You’re such a bully, Mr. Lono...”

Lono:

 “Come on then, Master! Please eat up, before it gets cold.”

Choices:

“Thank you for the food...”

clink clatter

A few minutes later

Berrien:

 “You should have some dessert too, Master.”

Choices:

“There’s dessert too?!”

“You’re all doing way too much.”

Berrien:

 “Of course. Only the best for our Master.”

Berrien:

 “Lono has made treacle tart today.”

Lono:

 “I’m quite proud of it! Please try some!”

Choices:

“I feel bad for eating all this alone.”

“Why don’t you guys have some too?”

Berrien:

 “We eat after you, Master.”

Choices:

“Can’t we at least have dessert together?”

Berrien:

 “As much as I would love to...”

Berrien:

 “Okay. It’d be rude to refuse you when you’re so eager, Master.”

Berrien:

 “Thank you so very much. We shall join you for dessert.”

Muu:

 “Can I have some too, then?”

Choices:

“Of course!”

“Let’s all eat together!”

Lono:

 “I was gettin’ proper hungry too, actually~!”

Berrien:

 “Oh, that’s right! Why don’t we invite Bastien to join us too?”

Muu:

 “Bastien...? I haven’t heard that name yet...”

ring ring

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #3: Cider and Gold

Prompt: scale || Master Post || On AO3

So this ended up veering in a similar direction as yesterday’s fill, but ultimately I thought it made a nice contrast, and there’s always my editing phase in October if I’m not ultimately pleased with it later on.

--

Ehll Tou’s pretty bare warehouse had been transformed over the last year into a proper lair: assorted spaces for her various crafts (the kitchen very carefully built to keep it sealed from anything from her little foundry or alchemical lab), the guestrooms for her friends, storage spaces, and of course, her own personal roost. Building the walls and cupboards and tables and decorating had been such fun, but almost as fun had been trading with the residents of the Firmament: her sewn and sawed and smelted goods for pretty glass chimes to hang in her windows, or a sturdy chair for Hautdilong, or a plush embroidered pillow to add to her nest.

Truly, the best thing about being smaller and not as pointy as other adult dragons was the ability to burrow into a giant pile of pillows and blankets for a well-deserved nap and not worry about anything tearing. Such a lovely invention, the pillow.

(She wondered, sometimes, if Ratatoskr had enjoyed soft things. But neither the First Brood nor their elder children nor her sire nor her sire’s broodmates answered such questions; pillows and rugs and comforters could not withstand the passage of time like metal or stone, and if Sohr Khai had ever had tapestries as pretty as the ones that now adorned her own walls, she would never know.)

But recently, with Arvide and Synnove's help, she had partitioned off the front entrance of her warehouse into something resembling a shop front! Some Ishgardians wished to commission her, offering gil in exchange for the items she made, which was both flattering and bewildering. (Though not unwelcome; gil would make acquiring her supplies much easier, after all.)

[I am proud of my skills and crafts,] she had said, [but I am not yet a master!]

“It's the novelty, I suspect,” Synnove had said, rubbing at the ears of the carbuncle around her neck.

Arvide had nodded his agreement. “Aye, the ability to show off to that they owned something made by a dragon.”

Ehll Tou couldn’t say she didn’t understand. Dragons were as boastful of men, of course, just not of possessions. But she had agreed that if she wished to accept commissions, it would be wise to set aside a small portion of her lair’s space to meet potential clients, so that they did not intrude upon the sanctity of her workshops or nest. (Another similarity between dragons and men, though among dragons one didn’t necessarily bring a stranger to one’s lair at all, or let them within.) Arvide and Synnove had rigged a door-ringer for her that would work just as well for social guests as it would clients with a bronze bell that could be clearly heard even in the forge all the way at the back of the warehouse, and with Hautdilong, she had carefully painted a sign to put next to the door advertising when she was open and accepting work.

Today, when her cheery bell rang, Ehll Tou was in her woodworking shop (its walls and ceiling as tightly made as the kitchen’s, for the damage here could be more ruinous than spoiled food), and she looked up from planing a mahogany plank for a bookshelf ordered by Marcelloix and Audaine. She cocked her head and glanced at the chronometer on the wall, thrumming thoughtfully; no clients were due by to check their orders, and it was late enough she should consider taking down her sign and dimming the lights of her little foyer. Curious, very curious.

She set down her planer and shook the sawdust from her claws, grabbing a feather duster she kept to brush away any woodchips or shavings that stuck between her scales before she tracked them all over the rest of the warehouse. That done, she exited the woodshop and closed the door behind her, and trotted quickly down the length of the building, flapping her wings once to allow her to glide a short distance to finally reach the front. She turned the knob and stepped into the foyer-shop, a brief purr escaping her as she did; good, the new hot water pipes were doing an excellent job keeping this room as warm as the rest!

Another dozen steps to the warehouse’s front doors and she hauled one open, peering out into the evening gloom—and nearly squawked like a gull in surprise.

[Ser Aymeric, hello!] she said, pushing the door open wider. [Come in, come in, be welcome!]

“Good evening, Ehll Tou,” Synnove’s mate said, smiling, as he stepped inside. “How do fare tonight?”

[I am well, thank you,] she said, shutting the door behind him. [You’re allowed to the friends’ door at the back, you know!]

Ser Aymeric laughed softly and removed his gloves. He wasn’t dressed in his armor; today must have been a Parliament day, then. “I am aware, thank you,” he said, “though today I’m here on business rather than pleasure, and I felt it rude to use the excuse of friendship to intrude upon your valuable time.”

He had such nice manners. The moogles could stand to learn a thing or two from him, and then perhaps she would consider bending the rules for them as she was about to do for her friend’s mate now.

[Nonsense,] she snorted. [Give me a moment to the put the sign up, please; I do not have tea at the moment, but I do have a cask of apple cider.]

Once the sign had been brought inside, the doors locked, and the foyer lights dimmed, Ehll Tou led the way to the kitchen, briefly pausing to allow him to hang his coat up, and poured them both mugs of fresh cider once they were settled. There were still some cherry scones from her last baking experiment, too, that had survived Hautdilong’s taste-testing, and she plated those to offer, too.

Ser Aymeric murmured his thanks, and made similar appreciative noises as her friend had at the first bite of scone, so Ehll Tou mentally noted that recipe should be properly recorded in her “make more often” cookbook. As the elezen sipped at his cider, she crouched on the other side of the kitchen table so they were roughly at eye level.

[How may I be of assistance?] she said.

He swallowed his bite of scone—oh, they needed to bully the moogles into taking etiquette lessons from this man right now—and smiled at her. “Synnove’s nameday is coming up quite soon,” he said, “and I’d like to seek your assistance in making a gift for her.”

Ehll Tou perked up, a churr of excitement burbling in the back of her throat. She had been asked to make nameday presents for clients before, but never for a friend! [Did you have something in mind already?]

He reached into his pocket, and placed two items on the tabletop with a soft clink: two pieces of golden metal, shaped similarly to a dragon’s scales, only a little smaller than his hand. “These are two pieces of the lining on my armored surcoat,” Ser Aymeric said. “The armorers had performed some repairs, and removed these as they weren’t as sound as they should be any longer. I thought they might be repurposed into something and asked to keep them.”

She cocked her head from side to side, reaching out to delicately pick up one of the scales and hold it between her claws. She hummed thoughtfully as she examined it, twisting her hand from side to side, watching how it caught the light. It wasn’t of a material she immediately knew—she would need Arvide’s opinion, or perhaps Stephanivien’s—but it was quite pretty, and if it had once been armor-quality, it would be sturdy.

[There are a number of things that come to mind,] she said slowly, mind whirring. [Let me get my sketchbook and graphite, and let’s see what we can come up with together.]

Ser Aymeric’s smile was warm and pleased, and Ehll Tou promised to herself that she would make this one of the best nameday presents she would ever make.

(But she would make one for Synnove, too, that came from just herself. And give the Highlander a piece of her mind for not telling that her nameday was approaching!)

[stupidthoughtsinwriting]

An Untitled Tom Story

Hi, One this is my first post and I don't know much about tumblr and how this works as I'm still new. Two I wrote something that's been on my mind for months and I'm posting it here first to see if its any worth posting on Wattpad. Im very hesitant in posting this as i dont feel that comfortable writing something about a real person who is currently involved and engaged or showing anybody my work. But im very very happy for them, This story just formed in my head like a snowball at a top of a hill, and it just keeps getting bigger and bigger that i cant stop it from forming in my head. This story gives me a bit of comfort at times, and if it does the same to you that would make my year. I apologize for the long intro-ish thing. Please do share your thought unless their in the negative and do inform me if there is any inaccuracies that may occur. Enjoy and have a lovely day =)

Chapter 1

Tom

Food.

I need food.

As I enter a small café, the smell of pastries and coffee fill my nostrils. I have been stuck in meetings all day, with a light breakfast and lunch long forgotten, I’m famished. It’s late in the afternoon and I’ve gone to the nearest eatery I could find to fill my empty stomach. I’ll get a proper meal at dinner. Maybe takeaway? My stomach growls and I suppress a chuckle as I make my way to the service counter. The place is packed but there doesn’t seem to be a line for the counter.

“Good evening, I’d like a cuppa earl grey please and…” I lift my cap a bit to take a peek at the display case, looking at the delicious looking freshly baked goodies. “A croissant and those scones look good; I’ll take two please” I beam to the woman behind the counter as I point at the scones. The woman nods and puts in my order, I pay and procced to the other end of the counter and wait for my purchase. I take out my phone as I wait, looking through my notifications. A few emails and messages that need answering, I can do those while I eat.  I pocket my phone when my meal is presented to me. I thank the server and look for a seat. The inside of the café is full and there doesn’t seem to be a vacant seat. I did see a few empty chairs on the way in, so I’ll get a seat out there.

Seated and starving, I munch in on my food. I take out my phone from my pocket as I swallow a bite of the croissant. I open my email and look at the inbox. A few notices, news, a bit of fan mail. Ohhh, Christian sent a digital copy of a draft of the script. I snicker at the note left on the subject. Yes, I have sent a hard copy. With some of your mail, I’ll drop it off later. I send a thank you and decide to read the draft later.

A scone, a croissant and half a cupper later, I’ve replied to a few emails and messages. The urge to read the draft is growing stronger and I finally concede. Thank God I have a lot of data as I still need to download the file. Once that’s done, I read the draft on the tiny screen of my phone.

-

Page 8. New scene. Seems like a good stopping point. Yes, let’s stop there. Okay. Yes, we’re stopping. We’re stopping from reading any further. Yes, we stop Now.

Brilliant. That was brilliant. The scene was utterly brilliant. It was gripping. The writing is so wonderfully done, I can practically feel the emotion the characters are expressing just from the writing alone. The details written is so exquisite and unique, the writers did a splendid job. That feels like an understatement. Superb? Better but not quite yet. Magnificent? Best thing I can up with at the moment.

I set my phone down and look at its surroundings. The last remaining scone in a small saucer and a half-finished cup of tea sit on the tray next to the phone, untouched since I opened Christian’s email. Food is once again forgotten. Ohh, the look on mum’s face if she sees what I’ve done. She’d be livid.

I shrug off the lingering thought of mum livid and the lecture that is sure to follow. My view moves to the busy street Infront of me. The pavements a bit crowded, filled with people having to go one place to another. Not a care in the world about the people around them.

There’s a hospital across the street, busy as ever. Ahhh, no wonder this little café is packed. It’s quite possibly filled with people wanting to get some food outside of the hospital cafeteria. There are people coming in and out. Some hurried, possibly rushing to get to a person inside the hospital. Some casually strolling in or out, adding to the foot traffic on the pavement.

There are people just passing by the hospital. Not giving the building full of sick people a second glance. A big lot of the crowd have their eyes glued to their phones or are in hurry to get to the place they need to be, it’s a bit easy to spot the ‘odd ones’ out. The ones taking their time and enjoying being where they are with the people they’re with or with what they’re doing. A couple passing by, hand in hand, looking at each other lovingly. A mother, holding her energetic son, possibly laughing at his antics as he makes silly faces. A group in their youths, just out of school, chuckling at jokes said. An elderly woman, carrying her bags of groceries, eager to get home to make supper. A man clutching a bouquet of flowers – a mix of roses, lilies and carnations- staring at the building in front of him, possibly hesitating to make the delivery to the person inside. He eventually goes in just as a gust of the wind blows through the city.

It’s nice. The warmth of the summer slowly leaving London and the early autumn breeze weaving its way through the buildings of the city.

I take a sip of the tea left in my cup while still looking at the street. I reach for a bite of the scone when I see someone crash into the elderly woman with the groceries, knocking a few things out of the bag and onto the street. I quickly set my cup down and rise from my seat to help the older woman. I reach the crosswalk and as I’m about to cross the street I halt and see a woman sprinting from inside the hospital, moving to help the older woman. My feet remain rooted to the pavement as I observe the scene playing across the street.

From what I can see from my side of the street, The younger woman, definitely younger, is beautiful. Odd thing to think but she is, every woman is. She has her nearly black, chestnut brown hair -although its lighter in the sunlight, perhaps a shade of golden bronze- in a loose braid, -But I can tell their curly- on her shoulder. Although I could only see half her profile, her sharp features stick out. She’s wearing a cream floral dress that ends just below her knees, with thin straps under a denim jacket, adding a burst of colour to her pale white skin. Her skin is a light shade of pale ivory leaning unto cream white, not sickly but bright and vibrant and with a hint of pink. She’s sporting white canvas sneakers, a good match for her outfit and highlights her pale thin legs. She’s tall, much taller than the older woman she’s trying to help. Jesus Christ Tom! What are you doing! Stop analyzing this poor woman! Stop being a creep. You are not sherlock for Christ sakes, leave that to Benedict. But she looks so lovely, like she came out of a story, a fairytale. Jesus Christ I’ve gone mental.

Pushing away the internal battle I’ve just had to the back of my mind, I see her -the younger woman- crouch down and pick up the fallen items. She’s tucked the back of her dress behind her knees, and as she stands up, the dress flows back down. She hands the items to the elderly woman with a soft smile and she looks past the older woman’s shoulder, to the direction of the bloke that knocked the older of the two women, brows furrowed, a pissed off expression painted on her face. She tried to look for the guy for a second, her search becoming unsuccessful, before turning back to the woman she’s helped -whom was arranging her bags- with a soft kind smile once again gracing her features. They chat for a bit before the younger of the two women gave the older a quick hug before parting ways.

The older of the two disappeared into the crowd but the younger stayed where she was. She was still eyeing the older through the crowd and checking if she would be fine and when she was satisfied, she let out a grin before looking out the crowded and busy street and turning back to the hospital.

It was brief but, for a split second I swear our eyes met. Just before she turns her heel towards the hospital, our eyes meet.

I snap back into reality and realize I’m still standing on one end of the crosswalk, staring at where the kind and stunning fairy tale woman stood. I walk back to my table to finish the bits left of the pastry and tea I bought.

I finish my tea and answer a few more messages I’ve received. This proving to be a much more difficult task as my mind is clouded with the kind woman, I decide to depart the teashop. I clean the table a bit, putting the cup and saucers on the tray and wiping the down the table. As I gather my belongings, the fairytale woman comes into view through my peripherals and head snaps towards her direction. She’s exiting the hospital again and it seems her departure seems a bit more permanent. She’s got a bag slung on her shoulder, books in hand and a man in scrubs to accompany her out. A wave of guilt and a bit of jealousy passes me at the thought of her being attached to someone and my thoughts of admiration may not be the most appropriate.

She’s also got a flower -a purple carnation, like the one the man with the bouquet had- tucked behind her ear, adding to the whole fairy tale effect. She’s already got a smile on her face but the bloke -who I’m assuming is a doctor- she’s with said something to make her laugh.

God she’s gorgeous. She’s beautiful with a smile let alone a laugh which makes her even more stunning. Jesus Christ Tom, what is going on with you.

Her laughter dies down and she says her goodbyes to the doctor with a hug. She turns from the doctor, towards the street, hails a taxi and leaves. The doctor eventually retreats back inside the hospital and I once again am staring at the pavement where a pretty woman stood.

I recover from my daze and finally get a grip on reality once again. I have got to stop staring. Christ.

I finish collecting my things and hail a taxi home for myself. I’ve got the read through for the new film tomorrow and party afterwards, so I need to get at least some rest. Once I’ve finally got a taxi, I get in, tell the cabbie my address. I’ve placed my head to lean on the window as my mind wanders.

Perhaps I’ll just order take away. What am I ordering anyway? The fairy tale woman is intriguing. What is she having for supper? She seems kind, caring and very beautiful. She looks like someone out of a book. Funny, one of the two books she was carrying was a children’s fairytale book. Funny. She also seems familiar. Jesus Christ, I’ve gone mental. Daydreaming about a woman I’ve never met nor will ever see again. A woman that may have a significant other. I mean the chances of seeing let alone meeting her again is very unlikely, so I have got to stop. But why does she seem familiar. Bullocks. I don’t even say bullocks. Jesus this woman is going to haunt me.

I’m driven away from my thoughts as I arrive home, the sudden halt of the taxi and the voice of the cabbie telling me were here, brings me back to the real world. How long was I deliberating what started out as supper? I pay the cabbie and exit the taxi. I walk up to the steps of my home and I can already hear the barking of my spaniel, eager for my arrival. I chuckle and quickly fish out my keys from my pocket and unlock the door. As soon as I step inside, I nearly topple over as Bobby jumps on me.

‘Alright, alright, hello to you to bobby’ I chuckle whilst petting the dog’s head. I stand from where I was crouching -the dog running back to the halls of the house- and drop my keys on the table planted next to the door. There’s mail on the table, mail that was not there when I left this morning.

I pick up the pile of papers, but the big manila envelope sticks out from the rest and catches my eye. I pick that up as well and head to the lounge, where I find bobby nibbling on a toy. I drop the bundle of papers on the coffee table, shrug off my coat and place it on the back of the sofa before plopping my self next to bobby.

My view covered by the arm draped over my head, I let out a breath. I’m clearly a bit more exhausted than I originally thought. I don’t see the dog’s attention move towards me and catches be my surprise when a wet, sandpapery tongue dampens the arm draped on my face. I remove said arm and the licking continues to my face. A chuckle once again escapes from me as I try to push away the beasts’ wet attack on my face. I wipe my face and rub the pups belly before sitting up properly to examine mail.

I pick up the big envelope first and notice a post-it stuck on.

I let myself in as you weren’t home yet. Can’t risk getting this in the wrong hands now can’t we

As promised a hard copy

They still had a few things to rewrite so you’ll get the full script at the read through. Got you this bit for now, should suffice

-C

I open the envelope to reveal the draft of the script I read earlier. It’s about maybe 20-25 pages thick, maybe more. Excitement and a plan bubbles over me as I skim through the pages before I set the thin book down and review the rest of the letters. A few bills, adds, fan mail and such and nothing special.

I stand from the couch and head to the kitchen while digging out my phone from my pocket. I replenish bobby’s water and give him his dinner before looking for the take away menus. Hidden where its always been, I dial the restaurants number while looking at the menu, picking out my meal. A thought comes back to me and I remember the fairy tale woman. How I pondered what would her meal this fine evening is. Why she looks familiar. Why she intrigues me.  

I get taken from my daydreams once again when a voice coming from my device call me. I order my meal and pour myself a glass of Jameson as I wait and drown out my thoughts. I plan on waiting for my takeaway and eating said take away with a drink while reading the rest of the draft. This woman is weirdly consuming my thoughts and here’s to hoping that drink will help.

[nightravens-therapycircle]

Paint the Roses: Finale Preview

Just Desserts

It took nearly a week and a half for the Heartslabyul gardens to be repaired and regrown back to their previous state, as well as for Riddle to get a decent amount of rest and recover from his overblot episode. True to his word, once the gardens were deemed worthy, the housewarden declared that there would be an unbirthday party to apologize for all that had happened.

The members of Heartslabyul — plus Grim and Emery in their Heartslabyul attire, having been invited as an apology for getting caught in the fiasco and a thank you for their interference — sat around a table laid with tea and Trey’s delicious-smelling sweets. As Emery looked over the students around her, she took note that she seemed to be doing so much better than they were the last time the Ramshackle duo were here.

“Make way for our great leader, the red sovereign himself! Housewarden Riddle!” announced Cater with an over-exaggerated flourish that made Emery bite back a giggle. Riddle entered the garden with Trey by his side and his head still held high. The members of the house cheered for him.

Riddle let out a satisfied hum. “The roses are red, the tablecloths are white… It seems like a proper unbirthday party indeed. Is there a dormouse in the tea—” He caught himself, clearing his throat when Cater gave him a look. “I suppose it’s fine either way.”

“Not everything has to change completely, you know,” said Trey, a hand on Riddle’s shoulder to help keep him grounded. “Instead of putting jam on a mouse’s nose, try putting it on a scone instead. Change your thinking to ‘it’s great if it’s this way’, instead of having it be ‘it absolutely has to be this way’.”

Riddle hummed before nodding, “You’re right.”

Ace groaned from his place at the table with Deuce, Emery and Grim. “I can’t believe that we got roped into cleaning up and prepping the garden again.”

“Come on,” said Deuce, nudging Ace with his elbow. “The housewarden making a full recovery after his overblot is the important thing.”

“And the garden is Magicam-worthy once again!” said Cater as he, Riddle and Trey joined the rest of the dorm at the table. “So I’m super satisfied.”

Grim slammed his paws on the table. “Let’s just eat already!”

Emery narrowed her gaze. “Grim.”

“What?!” The cat really had no manners, did he?

“It’s fine,” said Cater with a casual wave of his hand. “I’ll get the—”

“Wait!” Everyone froze when Riddle shouted, his hand raised to stop any festivities before they could start. He gestured over to a few of the bushes that lined the garden. “Those white roses…” Those what roses? Sure enough, Riddle was right. A few of the painted roses were still stark white.

Ace’s face drained of color. “Oh crap, did we miss one?!” By the look of it, they missed far more than one.

“Ace, Deuce,” said Cater as he whipped around to face the startled freshmen, “I told you to make sure to paint EVERY rose!”

“This is our fault?!” exclaimed Deuce. When Cater nodded, the two freshmen boys groaned.

Trey turned to Riddle, trying to get a handle on things before they could spiral. “R-Riddle, this…”

“Please try to understand that it was just a mistake,” added Emery. Riddle let out a short sigh.

“I know,” he said. Unlike before when Riddle would have most likely collared all three of them for messing up the roses, Riddle’s hands remained at his sides. There wasn’t a trace of anger on his face at all. “I’m not going to punish you for a few missed roses.”

“R-Really?!” Cater stammered in surprise. Riddle nodded, and the former let out a sigh. “That’s really generous of you, Riddle!”

Riddle hesitated a moment before withdrawing his magic pen from the confines of his coat. “If we work together, we should be able to get them painted in no time.”

Ace bit back a groan. “You still want them painted?”

Emery put her hand on his shoulder. “Ace, it’s just a few roses,” she said, standing up. They could have them all done in no time. Even so, Ace still grumbled to himself under his breath.

“Still…” said Trey, “I’m impressed. You’ve changed, Riddle.” Riddle looked almost proud to hear that.

The full chapter will be up on Ao3 on November 13th!

[qianinterprises]

Smoke Detector

Pairing: Taeyong x Reader

Warnings: burnt food, tears, self-doubt

Scenario 1) when they (you) mess up cooking dinner for the first time.

Summary: you want to make dinner for Taeyong on your anniversary, but to do so requires help from the fourth best chef in NCT. Unfortunately, that isn't enough to stop disaster.

Genre: fluff, minor angst

Author's Notes: I am participating in the ficscafe scenario event! You may be seeing a few of these pop up as I am super excited to write these scenarios! Also, I apologize if this is kinda sucky. I wrote it in one sitting because I just had SO much inspiration, but there's a very good chance that this isn't very good.

Word Count: 2.6k

Tag List: @treasuretaeil @hachanbaecon

For as long as you could remember, you'd never learned how to properly put on a meal. Sure, you could make ramen in the microwave or throw together a sandwich, but anything involving more technical skills and you were screwed. For that reason, you never offered to cook for your boyfriend, which admittedly made you feel inadequate, but he was so an amazing chef that admitting your lack of skills was embarrassing to say the least.

Taeyong had no idea you had very little talent in the kitchen. You never told him about the time you nearly burnt down your mother's kitchen trying to make tacos or the time you forgot your scones in the oven until they were black as coal and hard as stones.

Taeyong's cooking skills were perfect. He could whip nothing into the most delectable meal you'd ever tasted. And that was daunting.

He should be with someone who he could partner with. Someone who could share the responsibility of the kitchen because you knew, when Taeyong got home after allday of schedules, the last thing he wanted to do was cook. But he did so anyway (unless you'd convinced him to get takeout). He never complained. Never questioned why you didn't cook for him. Never gave you anything but a happy smile and a soft peck on the lips.

Lee Taeyong was just too perfect. So perfect in fact that today, on the morning of your two year anniversary, he had taken the morning off and instead, bounced around in the kitchen cooking up all your favorite breakfast foods before surprising you in bed with them. He had roused you awake and placed the tray on your lap before crawling back in bed beside you and kissing your lips.

“Happy anniversary my love,” he had whispered against your lips.

The morning had been spent enjoying his well-crafted breakfast with sleepy cuddles and a slow, sensual, naked dance beneath the sheets before he had to peel himself away with a promise that he would be home in time to make dinner.

With that, he had left, and you spent the rest of the afternoon fretting. Taeyong had made breakfast. A breakfast that didn't consist of cheerios or toast. He had taken the time to use his morning to whip up a breakfast fit for a king. And now he was planning on two meals in one day!

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, fear gripping your heart. One day, Lee Taeyong would realize that he was too good for you, and then he’d be gone. Off to find someone better for him. Someone like Doyoung, who he could cook with without supervision. Or maybe even someone like Johnny, bigger than him, that could hold him tight and ease away all of his worries.

You were useless. At least, that’s what your subconsciousness whispered in the back of your head.

~

As two pm rolled around, you were tired of moping. Taeyong deserved someone better. So you would become better. That would just require a little bit (a lot) of help from someone who knew their way around the kitchen.

The first person you contacted was Kun, but when he didn’t respond, Doyoung became the next best thing. Quickly, you sent the male a quick text because you had no idea who Taeyong was scheduled with today.

‘Do you have 127 schedules today?’

Doyoung didn’t take long to text back.

‘Yeah, why?’

Always one to get to the point. But you liked that about Doyoung.

‘Just curious, wasn’t sure who Taeyong was scheduled with today.’

You huffed. The simplest choice went out the window. Had Doyoung been free, you would have invited the male over and had him help you cook a gorgeous dinner. Although part of you was glad you had to go with plan b. Plan b wouldn’t get irritated and yell at you quite as easily as Doyoung would.

‘How’s my favorite Dreamie?’ you sent, hoping Dreams schedules were clear that day because you were running out of options.

‘Jeno’s doing fine? Why?’

‘I’m not talking about Jeno, you nincompoop!’

These boys were going to be the death of you one of these days.

‘Haha, I know, what’s up? What do you need?’

‘Why do you assume I need something?’

‘-.-’

‘Fine. I need your help cooking dinner for Taeyong!’

It took the boy longer to respond and you assumed his answer was no when your phone began to ring. When you answered, he didn’t even give you time for a proper greeting.

“Why do you need my help?” Jaemin asked.

You let out a huff. None of the boys knew your dirty little secret, but you knew Jaemin (or Doyoung for that matter) would help you without an explanation.

“Because I can’t cook to save my life! And he cooks all the time! And I just want our anniversary to be special! Will you help me or not?!”

“How are you dating Taeyong hyung without knowing how to cook?!”

“Jaemin!” you whined, red creeping up to your cheeks.

He let out a breathy laugh.

“I can’t come over. Our managers gave us the next few days off and Renjun and Jeno have barricaded us all in here, but I can help you over the phone!”

Not exactly what you had in mind, but with Jaemin helping you, what could possibly go wrong?

~

Later on that evening after deciding to make something relatively simple for Taeyong, Jaemin helps you create a grocery list and sends you on your way. Grocery shopping was the easy part. You were exceptionally good at shopping. It was when you got back home that your hands began to clam up as you stood in the center of the kitchen, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever was about to happen.

Your phone rang in your pocket as you were shakily pulling a pan out, placing it on the stove. You fished out your phone and answered, Jaemin’s face popping onto your screen.

“Ready to get cooking?” he asked, a wide grin spreading across your face.

“I’m nervous,” you mumbled.

“Oh come on! You’ve got me here to guide you! It’ll be great!” you promised.

Hopefully, he was right.

“Ok so the first thing you need to do is heat up the pan over the stove. While that’s heating, start chopping the vegetables. Just be careful!”

Nodding, you turned on the stove. When nothing happened to sabotage you this early in the game, you let out a sigh of relief and set out chopping all of the vegetables that you’d bought, preparing a hearty, healthy, but tasty dish for the man that never ceased to give you everything you desired.

“Ok, now get the meat out of the fridge and put it in the pan.”

Nodding to him, you slid on a pair of rubber gloves and pulled the hamburger meat out of the refrigerator. Ripping open the packaging, you dumped the red meat into the now sizzling frying pan and let out a small sound of joy when you succeeded in not making too big of a mess.

“Great now-” there was a knock over the line and Jaemin’s attention turned from you to the door.

“What?” he asked.

“We’re going out to the sports bar down the road. Wanna come?” Jeno’s voice asked in the background.

Jaemin let out a whine in the back of his throat.

“I promised (y/n) noona that I’d help her make dinner for Taeyong hyung.”

“Sucks to be you!” the door slammed and Jaemin turned back to you looking like a kicked puppy.

Your heart clenched. Not only did you have to elicit Jaemin’s help in the first place, but now you were keeping him from spending time with his friends and having fun.

“Explain to me everything that I need to do and go,” you offered.

His face lit up immediately and he opened his mouth to speak before freezing.

“But I promised…”

“Jaemin, it’s not that big of a deal! I’ve got this,” you said, hoping he couldn’t hear the way your voice wavered at the doubt creeping into your soul.

“Ok so…” and he rattled off instructions, letting you write them down.

“Now are you sure you can do this?” he asked.

You nodded even though you were positive you couldn’t do this.

“Ok! Good luck! And Taeyong hyung is going to love it!”

With that, the call ended and you were left alone with a pan of rapidly browning hamburger meat and a pot of boiling water.

“Ok (y/n), you got this,” you whispered to yourself.

~

You didn’t have this. In no way, shape, or form did you have this!

The meat browned too quickly, and while you were trying to get it off the heat, the pot of water boiled over, sizzling and fizzing on the burner You slightly burned your hand in a rush trying to get the lid off of the pot of noodles, but while you were fighting with it, the smoke alarm went off, blaring loudly through the house. Frantically, you trembled as you tried to quiet down the alarm before you realized why it was going off.

The meat had become a dark brown lump emitting thick black smoke that pillowed toward the ceiling. With a little screech, you grabbed the pan of meat and hurled it into the empty sink, rapidly turning the water on and letting it spill over the now ruined meat as you turned back to turn off the stove. However, before you could, the water was boiling over the sides again.

By the time you got the water in the pot to settle, your hair was a mess atop your head and tears had gathered into your eyes at the mess of a kitchen. Water was still running over the burned black meat. The noodles in the pot had secured themselves to the bottom of the pot, refusing the budge, and the vegetables you’d put in the oven to roast had gotten done while everything else had gone wrong. Now they sat on top of the stove crispy with an aftertaste of coal.

Dinner was ruined. But perhaps you’d still have time to order takeout before-

You heard his keys jiggle in the door and your heart dropped to your stomach. Not only had you not succeeded in making one simple meal, but Taeyong was going to see just how awful you were in the kitchen.

You sank to your knees on the floor, leaning against the cabinets under the sink and drawing your knees to your chest, burying your face in your hands as the tears flowed easily now.

“Honey! I’m ho-”

The first thing Taeyong noticed was the smell. The bitter, burnt scent of burning food making his nose crinkle in distaste.

“Babe?” he asked, stepping further into your shared apartment, closer to the kitchen where the smell was coming from.

When he entered, the sight broke his heart.

You were trembling on sobs below the sink, quiet whimpers leaving your lips that only got worse as he moved closer to you. Water was running over a pan of burnt something in the sink and the pot on the stove was scorched. The vegetables on the over pan looked like shriveled prunes.

Slowly, so as not to make you more upset, Taeyong made his way over to the stove and quickly switched off the two burners and the over, all of which you must have forgotten to turn off.

When the stove was handled, Taeyong took another look around the kitchen. Your phone was sitting on the counter by the stove, a piece of paper with hastily scratched instructions beside it. There was an old sweater hanging over the back of the table chair that you must have used to calm the smoke detector that was now dangling from the ceiling by a single wire. The refrigerator was slightly ajar and making a small dinging noise until he pushed it closed. You were crumpled on the floor in the center of all of the chaos, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened.

With a small sigh, Taeyong moved closer to you. He leaned over you to switch off the water pouring onto the burnt pan before lowering himself to the floor and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Baby, did you try to cook for me?” he whispered.

He already knew the answer to that, but he wanted to hear a response from you. When you only nodded, another whimper leaving your lips, he pulled you into his arms and placed a kiss on your head.

“Why baby? I told you I was going to cook.”

“You cooked breakfast,” you mumbled.

“So?”

By now he was very confused. You never offered to cook. He just assumed you didn’t like to or couldn’t, which seemed to be the case.

“You deserve someone who can cook for you,” you muttered. “You always have to cook and I’m just useless not being able to.”

Taeyong was left speechless for a solid 30 seconds before he was pulling you into his lap, carefully spinning you around to face him.

“You are not useless. Baby, you give me warm hugs and kisses when I get home. You let me be the little spoon some nights when I’m exhausted. You draw baths for me and hold me while I relax. You are anything but useless. You do so much for me that I enjoy cooking for us when I get home. Even when I’m tired I love it. I love seeing your face light up when you taste something you like or watching you bounce in your seat over your favorite foods. I don’t get to take care of you half as much as you take care of me. Let me cook for you baby. I love it,” he said, letting his thumbs gently stroke over your face as he wiped away your tears.

Your glassy eyes looked up to meet his and he was drawing you closer, planting a soft kiss on your water lips.

“I love you baby. And I promise, just because you can’t cook doesn’t make me love you any less,” he said, kissing your forehead.

You nodded and dove into him, letting your head rest against his neck, holding onto him as warmth washed over you.

“I love you too,” you muttered, finally feeling relaxed after hours of stress that came with cooking.

“Who gave you those instructions on the counter? Did they not offer to help you?”

“Jaemin. Kun was busy. Doyoung was with you. I obviously wasn’t about to call you, so Jaemin helped me, but halfway through he had to go.”

Taeyong nodded and peppered kisses along your cheeks.

“How about we get dressed and go to the dinner where we had our first date? Then tomorrow, we’ll spend the whole day together. I might even help you learn how to cook!”

“You have tomorrow off?!”

“Mhm,” Taeyong cooed.

You jumped off his lap excitedly.

“That sounds perfect!” you grinned, dashing off to your shared bedroom to put on something other than sweats.

Laughing, Taeyong stood up and surveyed the kitchen once again.

You had the capabilities of cooking. That much was clear by the seasonings and well-chopped vegetables. Stress and distractions were your issues. And that, he could help you with.

With a smile, he made his way to the bedroom.

It didn't matter if you could cook or not. What mattered was that you were his. And if the ring tucked away in his pocket was any indication, he planned on making you his forever.