#so now it's time to make a tea that i shall call london smog

[icryyoumercy]

ha! my usual specialised tea store is closed over the holidays, and my sister recommended i try the garden center in the industrial quarter, they might have some of what i was looking for

and i figured, might as well, since the other option is waiting until january

i found all of the tea i was looking for plus one that might be a fun experiment, and was just in time to catch the bus back to the old town so i can obtain lavender and mason jars

and then it's time for unholy sleeping tea experiments

[mrsalwayswrite]

More Than Today (Richard Winters x Reader)

So this has been in my wips for MONTHS. But here we are! I know its also been a hot minute since I’ve written any BOB fics. Sorry, friends. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: a couple swear words (thanks Nixon)

Words: 2750

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m @saritanotserena

Paris. 

City of Light.

City of Love. 

 Dick Winters just wished the soldier behind him would stop bumping his chair as he laughed at another dirty joke. 

 It had not been his idea to be here. Apparently Sink thought he needed a break. Nixon and Welsh ganged up on him, practically forcing him to pack his bag and get on the train. 

 Now that he was here though….it was nice. 

 He would never admit how many steaming, hot baths he had taken since finding his hotel room. Plus, sleeping in a real, soft bed- his bones sang with joy at the reprieve from the hard, army cot it had been subjected to for years now. 

 Tomorrow morning he was supposed to be leaving. His last 24 hours in Paris. Truthfully, he had done nothing, just rest. Both physically and mentally. He knew if he returned without having visited some kind of touristy place, both Nixon and Welsh would be furious. Though, he would have to have a conversation with Nix. It was not until Dick started unpacking that he found the box of condoms Nix must have slipped into his bag when he was not looking. 

 Sometimes he wondered why he put up with the man. Even that thought made him smile. Somehow him and Nix, they just clicked. Completely polar opposites but maybe that was what allowed their friendship to take root and grow. 

 The soldier behind Dick laughed loudly, rocking his chair back with the movement and knocking into Dick once again. He grimaced, just saving himself from spilling coffee onto his Class A uniform. He knew he outrank the man behind him and all his friends, he could easily say something…. but that seemed like a battle not worth fighting. 

 He quickly finished his small cup of coffee, relishing the actual bitter taste of the drink verse the watery stuff the army supplied. Standing up, he pulled out the change from his pocket, ready to leave a tip for the nice waitress. 

 "There you are!" A feminine voice called out with a distinctly British accent. 

 Dick lifted his head, knowing she was not talking to him but still curious. But then the strangest thing happened. He looked up and met her eyes as she walked past the few other tables. A blinding smile lit up her face and he felt his heartbeat stutter at how beautiful it was. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others sitting around watching her with interest but her eyes remained solely focused on him. 

 When she came to his side, she gently placed a hand on his forearm and lifted up slightly on her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "I'm so sorry I am late, love. I lost track of time. Do we still have time for a cup or shall we go?" She easily asked, as she slid down into the extra chair at the table. 

 He stood frozen for a moment, his mind questioning everything that just happened. Thankfully, his body went on autopilot and he sat back down in his chair. "Uh…. it’s fine."

 "Lovely!" She beamed, waving a hand to get the attention of the waitress. 

 As he stared at her, his mind finally seemed to feel the tension hidden just below the surface of her overly-sunny disposition. Her hands laid in her lap, a white-knuckle grip on her small purse though. A friendly smile remained on her face but her eyes kept shifting warily over to the other side of the street, like prey keeping a predator in its peripheral. 

 Confused and now concerned, he peered over to where her eyes kept shooting. Two men stood across the street watching her with sullen expressions. Their uniforms informed him they were US army, the chevrons on their sleeves stated they were both sergeants. 

 Dick turned back to her and lowered his voice, even though he guessed over the noise of those around him, the men would not hear. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

 "Wait." She said sharply, even though her smile never faltered. Then the waitress approached and the woman ordered a cup of tea with enthusiasm. Dick found himself ordering another cup of coffee per her insistence. 

 Finally, the waitress walked away, having had a brief conversation about the lovely color of lipstick she wore with the woman across from him after taking their orders. 

 It was then the woman peeked across the street once more. Whatever she saw, Dick watched the tension ease out of her. He glanced over to see the two men making their way back down the street. 

 "Bloody hell." She muttered, dropping her face in her hands. 

 "Are you alright? Were those men bothering you?"

 "Mmm? Oh, no, well yes. They kept following me even after I told them I was meeting my fiancé. I am so terribly sorry I dragged you into this, it was either find someone to pretend to be my fiancé or find an alley nearby and stab them. I quite like this dress and would prefer not to get blood on it today."

 He just stared at her, unsure how to take her answer. He would have thought it was a joke but with the way she casually answered, as if stating the sky was blue, he assumed she was serious. "Um, right." He coughed, not quite sure where to take the conversation from there. Luckily, she seemed to notice. 

 "Is there somewhere you need to go? I truly am sorry for holding you up. I'll pay for your coffee when the waitress returns, it's the least I can do. Don't feel like you have to stay here just for me."

 "No, no. It's alright, ma'am. I was just…." His voice trailed off. 

 She smiled softly at him, folding her hands in her lap. "Are you stationed here in Paris?"

 At that moment, the waitress returned with their ordered drinks. 

 "No." He answered her prior question, watching her take a sip from her cup. His own cup sat between his hands but he felt no need to drink it yet. "My CO demanded I take a 72-hour pass."

 "Mmm….so you are one of those?" She laughed lightly at the look of confusion on his expressive face. "A CO who actually cares about his men, focuses on making sure they are taken care of, instead of spending time with the other officers wasting all his money on booze and women."

 "Um…." He could feel a warmth spreading over his face. Hoping to hide it, he brought his cup to his lips and took a sip. 

 "It's alright, sir. We need more officers like you in this damn war. What's your name?"

 That he could easily answer. "Lieutenant Dick Winters, Easy Company, 506th, Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airbourne."

 "Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Winters. I'm y/n y/l/n. So Airbourne, hmmm? I've heard about you. Tell me about your training."

 And somehow Dick found himself telling her about Currahee, about the jumps at Mackall, the field drills in Upottery, even laughing about Sobel's antics with her. 

 Eventually, their cups ran dry. 

 "Where are you off to now?" She asked pleasantly.

 Dick answered honestly, feeling relaxed in her presence. "I'm not sure."

 "Well, it so happens I was on my way to visit the Notre-Dame Cathedral. Would you like to join me?"

 "Sure."

 Dick insisted on paying for both of their drinks, claiming his mother would read him the riot act if he allowed a woman to pay for her own. As they walked away from the cafe, she slipped her arm through his like they had done it a million times. Instead of feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable at the unexpected physical touch, he found himself smiling down at her. 

 What started off as a day without any intended plan, just enjoying not being on the front line or behind a desk writing reports, became one of the most enjoyable days of his life. After the Cathedral, they wandered along the Seine, stopping at any shop or attraction that caught their eye. She regaled him with different facts or histories of places they saw and other locations in Paris. Before the war, she had spent some time in Paris and now, having returned as a translator, she felt it was even more important to remember those things that the Nazis tried so hard to destroy. 

 Soon conversations turned to their own experiences at home, his in Pennsylvania and hers in London. The more they talked, the more he found himself attracted to her beyond the physical. She was a breath of fresh air amongst the smog of war. A ray of sunshine to remind him that above the dark clouds of War, the sun still resided. But even if the day was spent in laughter and companionship, a war still brewed outside. A painful reminder to what Dick's priorities should be. So, he promised himself that he would enjoy her company now, but once he left Paris, he would put her out of his mind. His men and the war came first. 

 As night settled over the city, they walked side by side back to her hotel. It was not too far from his own, thus he refused to listen to her protests and told her he would escort her back for her own safety. 

 "Well, this is me." She stopped in front of the lovely hotel. "Thank you for escorting me."

 "It's the least I can do. You spent the whole day being my tour guide."

 "That sounds dreadfully boring. But you'll have stories to share with that Nixon friend of yours. Though he may be more impressed if you bring him back a vintage bottle of wine."

 "No, he only drinks Vat 69. Lord knows where the man keeps finding the stuff."

 "Besides your footlocker?"

 "Yeah, besides that." He chuckled at her jest and the mischievous smile on her face. As they stood there, smiling at one another, he found himself wishing they had more time. That perhaps he had met her before or after the war and had been able to court her properly. For now though, he would cherish their time together. "Thank you for today."

 Her smile held a hint of sadness in it, as if she lamented their separation just as much as he did. "I pray our paths will cross again." 

 "Goodnight, y/n."

 "Goodnight, Dick."

 He stepped back, lingering a moment longer to gaze at her. After, he turned and started to walk away. The hour was late and they both needed to sleep. It was less than 8 hours until his train was to depart in the morning and he knew it would be wise to enjoy his soft bed one more time before returning to a hard, army cot. 

 "Dick!" 

 He spun around, surprised to see her walking towards him, her heels clicking loudly on the sidewalk. 

 "Is everything alright?"

 Without acknowledging his question, she pressed her lips to his in an eager kiss. Dick liked to consider himself a gentleman, never to take advantage of anyone, especially a woman. In this moment though, as all thoughts fled under her touch, his body reacted on instinct. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him while their lips parted, deepening the kiss. She moaned into his mouth, tasting like the wine she sipped on at dinner, her hands tightly gripping the lapels of his uniform. Heat coursed through his body as their tongues tangled together. He felt hypnotized, unable to pull away, to maintain propriety. Nor did he want too. She nipped at his bottom lip and his knees almost buckled underneath him. This moment was pleasure and fire, something he never experienced before….and something he wanted to revisit over and over with her. 

 After only a second and eternity combined, they both pulled back with swollen lips and breathless. Rising on her toes, she gave him a quick peck on the lips, a single flame compared to the bonfire they just lavished themselves in. Swiftly, she stepped back, running her hands over her dress. 

 "Goodnight…. don’t tell Nixon about this."

 He nodded, almost shyly, mind still reeling from their shared passion. "Yes, ma'am."

 With a playful, flirty wink, she twirled around and headed back towards her hotel, her heels clicking loudly on the ground. 

 Dick watched her walk away, lips still tingling and residual flames teasing his nerves. His eyes traced over her form, hoping to memorize it, to be able to always savor this moment. Looking up to the heavens, he silently prayed that one day, their paths would cross, one day he could perhaps pursue her, one day he could feel her lips against his again. 

 *****

 "So, you still haven't said much about your time in Paris." Nixon prodded, sipping from his canteen that certainly was not water. The intelligence officer had been relentlessly interrogating his friend about his pass for the past week. 

 Dick rolled his eyes, not even glancing over. "Not much to say, Nix."

 "You had to have done something! Come on! It's Paris!"

 "I saw the Notre-Dame."

 "Hey, that's something. Stop pressing him, Nix." Welsh butted in with his typical lazy grin. He reclined in the extra chair next to Nixon. "He did return the condoms."

 "For Pete's sake." Dick muttered as he listened to the two men laugh. He stood looking out the window of his office, overlooking Easy Company below being drilled by Lieutenant Dike. Again. There was something to be said about being prepared but this went beyond that. 

 "Harry, how long have they been out there now?" He asked, not removing his gaze from his men. 

 Welsh sighed, glancing at the clock. "About two hours now."

 "Right, come on. Let's go relieve them."

 The other two scrambled to their feet, following Dick out of his office and down through the labyrinth of the HQ building. Lieutenant Dike had come with high expectations but the more Dick watched the man, the more worried he became. 

 "You're too soft on them." Nixon teased, trailing behind him.  

 Dick gave a quick salute to some officers they passed, never missing a step as he responded. "They aren't learning anything by marching back and forth out there besides ways to murder their CO."

 "Was that a joke? Holy fuck. Did you hear that, Harry? Dick made a joke! Paris changed you."

 "I heard. Still in shock." Welsh deadpanned. 

 Dick sighed good-naturedly as they stepped outside the building. Slipping his cap on, he started in the direction of his newest Lieutenant. The footsteps of his companions falling in step behind him. 

 "Dick!" 

 His feet screeched to a halt. He knew that voice. Whipping around, he was greeted by the sight of her. Someone he thought he would never truly see again. A beautiful, blinding smile on her face as she hurried towards him. His heart rapidly pounded within his chest, giving away his shock and joy at seeing her. 

 "Y/n? What are you doing here?" He could not help sweeping his eyes over her, surprised to see her in a WAC uniform. Though it did nothing to diminish her beauty. 

 "I was asked to be a translator and help with deciphering coded messages." She answered casually as if she had not just revolutionized his world. Standing in front of him, she motioned to the army camp around them. "Is this where you are stationed?"

 "Yeah, yeah, it is."

 "Oh, that's lovely. We'll be able to see each other again. I am late for a meeting otherwise I'd love to chat. Could I see you tomorrow for a cuppa?"

 "Um, sure. Yes."

 "Perfect. I'll find you in the afternoon." She raised up on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips, causing his mind to short-circuit. "It's good seeing you, Dick."

 With that she spun on her heel and sashayed away, leaving all three men standing there shocked. 

 "Who was that?" Nixon demanded, gaze never leaving her retreating form. 

 "Y/n…. I met her in Paris."

 Nixon smacked him on the arm. "You bastard, you said nothing happened there."

 "Nothing happened." Dick tried to defend, even if the excuse sounded weak in his own ears. Besides, for him, something certainly did happen. 

 "Probably should have kept those condoms, Dick." Welsh said, clapping him on the shoulder with a chuckle. 

 And for a brief moment, Dick wondered if he was right. 

[sav-wites-everything]

A Study in You (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

A/N: Why aren't there more pieces set in the time of The Abominable Bride?? I absolutely loved it, probably due to my love for the Sherlock Holmes books and stories themselves. Anyway, I wanted to write one with 19th century Sherlock and John! I hope you all enjoy it! xx 

Warnings: mentions of drug use

The cobbled streets of London were crowded with busy people and lazy buggies. Horses clomped along the broken Baker Street, dirty boys shouted about the latest Dr. Watson story, and women under brightly colored parasols gossiped about the reclusive and handsome detective, Sherlock Holmes. 

You quickly made your way down the cracked pavement, your own parasol hanging from your arm. The sun was out but it was hidden by a dense layer of smog. The buildings lining Baker Street were covered in a veil of soot that eventually stuck to everyone and everything. When you reached the recently polished door of 221 Baker Street, the hem of your lilac colored dress was black with soot. You grumbled to yourself as you banged the knocker three times against the black door. 

Quick footsteps could be heard, a crash of what sounded like dinner plates, and a muffled yell before the door swung open with such force that the knocker banged against the door. A rather disheveled man with an obnoxious mustache was standing in the doorway. His breathing was heavy as he attempted to smooth down his hair and fix his beige vest. It took a moment but you recognized the mustache.

“Dr. Watson,” you said with a grin, extending a gloved hand, “I’m (Y/N) and I’m here to get Mr. Holmes’ help.”

Dr. Watson took your hand and shook it cautiously. “Women don’t usually shake hands,” he said innocently, clearly in shock by your out-of-place gesture.

“A curtsy dirties the dress and a kiss wrinkles the glove. A shake is quicker and easier,” you replied curtly.

“I meant no offense, Madam, I apologize.”

“No offense taken, Doctor. May I consult Mr. Holmes?”

Dr. Watson swallowed hard at this question and ran a hand through his hair. “Now is not the best time. The detective is in one of his.. erm.. moods. Shall I send you a telegram once he’s straightened out?”

As if he had been called to dinner, Mr. Holmes in a royal purple smoking jacket and no shoes or stockings came flying down the stairs. He towered behind Dr. Watson who now looked simply perplexed. “John, I knew it was a client at the door so why haven’t you brought her up yet?”

Mr. Holmes was wild eyed and a strand of his oiled hair fell across his face. “I don’t believe you are fit to be taking clients at the moment. Your feet aren’t quite on the ground,” Dr. Watson said tight lipped.

To this, Mr. Holmes pushed his hair out of his face, buttoned his smoking jacket, and bent forward into a deep bow, extending his hand to you. “How may I be of assistance, Miss?”

You took Mr. Holmes’ hand and gave it a strong shake, to the surprise of the detective as well. “I may have a case for you, Mr. Holmes,” you say assuredly. 

“My, you’re a case in yourself. A woman who shakes and does not curtsy.” Mr. Holmes’ ice blue gaze examined you from head to foot. You could almost hear the wheels turning in his head as he learned everything about you. Gripping your parasol tightly, you began to grow nervous under his stare. In Dr. Watson’s stories you had read about him doing this but it was a completely different experience actually having it happen. 

“Sherlock, could you not make the woman uncomfortable, for God’s sake?” John said, looking at you apologetically.

You quickly shook your head and took a step towards the door. “It’s quite alright, Dr. Watson,” you said, failing to sound convincing. 

Mr. Holmes took one more look of you, up and down, before clenching his strong jaw and turning on his heel. “Follow,” he said monotonously. John stepped out of the doorway and gestured with a hand up the stairs. You cautiously stepped over the threshold and began to climb the narrow wooden stairs.   

“Oh, Sherlock, look at the mess you’ve made,” you hear an older woman shrill from the top of the stairs. You step into the dimly lit sitting area of 221B and find a small woman picking up the pieces of what used to be a tea cup. You were close. 

“Mrs. Hudson, you were in need of a new set anyhow. And please don’t fuss while I have a client,” Mr. Holmes said rather harshly. You were taken aback by how he treated the kind looking woman. 

“Don’t talk to me like that, Mister. I’d have the right mind to send a telegram your brother,” she snapped back before turning to you with a warm smile. “Good morning deary, shall I get you a spot of tea?” 

You grinned back at her and said, “No, thank you, ma’am. I don’t imagine I’ll be here long. I must say, I expected you to answer the door.”

The smile instantly disappeared from Mrs. Hudson’s face and she turned to Dr. Watson with a glare that could kill. All color drained from the army doctor’s face as Mrs. Hudson stomped past him, slamming the door behind her. “She’s not a fan of the stories,” he laughed nervously. 

“Please, sit,” Mr. Holmes piped up, dragging a chair in front of two cushioned chairs. Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes took their respective seats and left you at the center of attention. You slowly took your seat, trying to figure out what to say first. 

Ringing your parasol in your gloved hands, you began, “It’s my brother, he’s gone missing.” You paused, looking between the two men. Dr. Watson sat with legs crossed, hands folded in his lap, and a kind expression on his kind face. Mr. Holmes also sat with legs crossed but his elbows were propped on the arms of his chair, finger tips together and touching his lips. He wore an unreadable expression but gave you a slight nod, prompting you to continue. “He left for America about 3 months ago, expecting to return 2 months ago. My father insisted I not worry about it but it has been 2 months with not so much as a whisper of his whereabouts.”

“Why did your brother leave for America?” Dr. Watson asked formally.

Before you could open your mouth, Mr. Holmes interjected with an outrageous accusation, “He was running from someone.”

“While I live and breath, of course not. My brother was loved by everyone he met. He went to America on business.”

“What business then?” Mr. Holmes smirked at you as if he knew something you did not. 

“Well, I don’t know. Father only said it was business. He claimed a lady had no use knowing,” you say through gritted teeth. 

“You’re brother was running from someone. He hasn’t returned or made contact, to your knowledge, because it is still unsafe. Your family just recently came into a lot of money, am I right?”

Your jaw dropped but you quickly shut your mouth and gained your bearings. “Y..Yes.”

“And what did your father tell you the reason was?”

“An aunt died and left the family everything she had.”

“An aunt you’ve never heard of no doubt. No, that is not what happened. You’re quite worried about the soot about your dress, clearly new, and you don’t use the parasol. Clearly, you weren’t raised to use one. Also, you shake rather than curtsy or accept a kiss, startling signs that you grew up in a poor home of men. You’re uncomfortable with this new lifestyle and are angered by the change in manner your father has toward you. I’m sure your brother is fine in America, but if you so desire, I can look into it.”

You were stunned. It was one thing to read the unbelievable stories of Dr. Watson’s but it was surreal to be living it. Mr. Holmes spoke with such swiftness, his deep, smooth voice sounding so matter-of-fact yet reassuring. You couldn’t help but believe him. “No,” you said, your voice sounding distant, “I believe you. Thank you, Mr. Holmes.”

Both Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes stared at you in bewilderment. “You’re the only client that has accepted my word as gospel so quickly,” Mr. Holmes breathed. “John, close your mouth.” Dr. Watson quickly closed his mouth and looked away in embarrassment. 

“Well, it only makes sense, Mr. Holmes. Everything you said makes sense. You’re right, I am rather uncomfortable with the sudden shift. And no, Mr. Holmes, I don’t wish to take up anymore of your time.” Mr. Holmes swallowed nervously. He didn’t say anything, he just stared. He stared at your face, studied it. All you could do was blink at him, frozen under his intense gaze. “You’re extraordinary,” you whispered, enamored by his blue eyes and sharp features. 

Mr. Holmes quickly looked away and what you could only assume was a blush rose to his cheeks. You too looked down, embarrassed you had said that aloud. “How much do I owe you for your time?” you asked in a hushed voice.

“Nothing,” Mr. Holmes said quickly, standing up in a rush. 

“Oh, well... Thank you, Mr. Holmes, for your...”

“Sherlock, please,” he interrupted, extending a hand to you to help you to your feet. 

You took it, in a daze. “Thank you, Sherlock.” His name slid like honey from your tongue. Your chest tightened as he bent forward and placed a ginger kiss to the back of your hand. His eyes locked on your’s the entire time. You didn’t even stop him. You couldn’t. You had been so adamant on rebelling against being “lady-like” but Sherlock Holmes made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. Your brain seemed to be on the fritz. 

“I hope I don’t wrinkle the glove,” his smooth voice said with a smirk. 

You felt your cheeks grow hot and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “To hell with the glove.”

Sherlock smiled down at you, a deep laugh rising in his throat. His eyes crinkled as he smiled and his smile lit up his face. It was contagious. “Shall I take you to the door, (Y/N)?”

“I can find my way out, Sherlock, but thank you,” you said before turning to Dr. Watson. He was still sat in his chair, looking at the pair of you with an expression as if he had witnessed a murder. “Dr. Watson?”

He shook the expression from his face and stood up, straightening his vest. “Apologies, I was.. uh... lost in thought,” he stammered, extending his hand. You took it in a firm shake and beamed at him. “I hope your brother is alright.”

“Thank you, Dr. Watson,” you replied. “Goodbye, gentlemen.” You turned on your heel and opened the door to the stairs. 

“I wish to see you again,” Sherlock said in a nervous manner. You paused in the doorway and turned slowly to see the detective, his face a deep crimson, standing with a hand slightly outstretched towards you. “Um, to follow up on your brother, of course,” he concluded, clasping his hands behind his back and setting his face with a nonchalant expression. 

You grinned at him before saying, “I wish to see you again, as well, Sherlock.” His face softened and you nodded at Dr. Watson. “Until next time.” You turned and descended the stairs, your heart threatening to fly from your chest. 

John turned to Sherlock as soon as he heard the door shut behind you. He let out a belly laugh and clasped a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. “What a story this case would make! Emotionless Detective Can’t Stop Staring! Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Girl That Stole His Heart!” 

Sherlock simply cocked his head toward his giggling companion and said, “I thought you were good at titles.” Leaving John to bask in the euphoria of seeing Sherlock loose control of his feelings, the detective walked towards the chair that you had occupied only moments before. He dragged his fingertips along the back of the chair and smiled to himself. “Until next time,” he whispered. 

A/N: I’m sorry for how long it is! I’m thinking of a part two for this one as I’m working on a part two for “What Do You Know About Babies?”!! Let me know what you think and send in your requests!! xx