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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

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hello! may i request some azriel fluff 🥺 like mornings with him/ cuddling in bed, im in dire need of cute azzy fics. also i love 'home' it's actually the story that got me into reading acotar content!

pairing: azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: pure fluff with a smidge of angst if you squint, mentions of blood/scars (very brief) but mainly just fluffy lovliness

a/n: okay so I kinda expanded on this a bit but it does have cuddling in a bed and mornings so I hope you like it! I’m always down for our boy getting some much needed love!

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It had been almost a month since you had seen Azriel. He was away on a mission for Rhys, always willing to follow his brothers orders even when your lip had wobbled at the sound of a month alone when he was in foreign territory undertaking dangerous tasks. A part of you felt guilty as he left, a pained expression on his face as he left you standing in the doorway, waving him off. You knew his job was hard and that he didn’t enjoy being away from you anymore than you did, but you couldn’t help but worry, especially after the missions where he came home with new scars and the darkness that you were working hard to rid him off returning to his eyes.

Tonight you were sat on your sofa, feet curled and a mug of steaming tea next to you as you flicked through a book. You had been reading the same paragraph for at least twenty minutes, the words not processing as your body reacted to the missing weight that would usually be curled against your side by this time of evening. Your gaze flittered over your home; perfectly clean as you had sought things to do while your heart was in another country, bookshelves lining the walls and paintings adorning any clear space on the walls. You closed your book, well worn as in your life you had read it many, many times. The pages had yellowed, and the spine was bent, yet the smell had remained and now as you read through it you could catch the notes Azriel had pencilled in when he had read it to please you. When you went to re-open it, unable to sit still, you smiled as it opened automatically on the most worn page, a quote circled and Azriel’s neat handwriting in the footnote, you traced your finger along the words, reading them with a soft smile.

“No. No one likes being alone. But

I’ve learned to live with it.” – now

I have you I don’t believe I could

ever be alone again. You could leave

me; steal my money, my heart, break

me down and I would still come

crawling back to you. You hold my heart

now, please be gentle.

You felt tears sting your eyes as you read his words, the page already had tear stains from when you first saw the words, but now in the cold of your lonely house they sank in deeper. However, before you could wallow in your self-pity anymore, you heard the door push open quietly and quiet feet pad in, the tell-tale signs of someone who presumed you would be asleep, albeit it was nearing 1am. You quickly put your book down, standing and practically running to the door, grinning widely as you saw Azriel there, tugging off his boots with one hand braced against the wall. He looked up when he heard you and offered you a weak grin.

“You should be sleeping baby,” he smiled at you as you barrelled towards him, jumping into his arms.

“I can’t sleep alone anymore,” you muttered into his shoulder and he shook with a silent laugh, tightening his grip around your waist. You stayed in that position for a few minutes more before you slipped down, grabbing his hand, and tracing a thumb over the dark circles that surrounded his eyes, next to the dirt and dried blood that was drying and cracking in his hairline. “C’mon you stink.” You giggled leading him to the bathroom and turning the tap to fill the bath with warm water, sprinkling in salts that you swore would help, much to his manly grumbling. You turned and found him leaning on the door, eyes watching you carefully, taking you in as you moved to him and started helping him out of his clothes, tugging at the leather until it came down displaying his glorious body to you. Once he was naked you pushed him gently in the direction of the bath and he furrowed his eyebrows and made grabby hands when he realised you weren’t joining him, you just laughed and kissed him gently, promising to return soon as he began washing.

You moved to the living room first, grabbing your mug and taking a tentative sip, smiling when you found it at a drinkable temperature. Then you moved to your shared room, fluffing the duvet and pillows, and changing into one of his old shirts, then grabbing him some loose sweats and walking back to your bathroom, arms stacked. He was leaning his head against the edge of the bath when you re-entered and cracked open his eyes, smiling lazily at you through hooded eyes. You moved to sit beside him at the edge of the bath, taking a washcloth and gently wiping his face clean, before rinsing it off and moving it down his neck and chest, following with soft kisses pressed into his clean skin as he all but purred in delight.

When you finished you leaned your head on his arm, your sleepless nights without him catching up on you as you sipped your tea, breathing in the relaxing smell. You felt Azriel’s gaze on you and turned your head up to face him, he leaned down and pressed a longer kiss onto your lips, the two of you simply revelling in the taste of one another, lips and tongues languidly moving in tandem. When you pulled away he quickly washed his hair as you finished your tea, before standing and wrapping himself in a towel around the waist and draining the pink-tinted water, pulling faces at you in the mirror as you brushed your teeth in silence. Finally you fell into bed together, exhaustion creeping up on you as he wrapped you in his arms, kissing your head and holding you impossibly tight. ‘I love you’ whispered into the dark of the room as shadows settled around you.

When you woke, your legs were tangled in Azriel’s and you felt like a weight was lifted off you. You forgot the effect Azriel had on you when it came to sleep, he had a way of lulling you into a deep sleep that woke you up feeling better than ever and fully rested. You craned your head up to see Azriel still asleep, his face more restful than you remembered, the furrow between his brow smoothed and you couldn’t resist tracing it with your thumb as you admired him.

“Watching me sleep again?” You almost jumped at his gruff morning voice, but just huffed a laugh.

“Someone has to witness this beauty and I’m not big on sharing so…” You trailed off and he cracked an eye open, gaze filled with love. You leaned up and kissed him, neither of you caring about morning breath as you finally spent much needed time together again.

“I need to go see Rhys today, let him in on everything.” He whispered when you pulled away, resting you head on his chest.

“Not quite yet though,” you muttered.

“No, not quite yet.”

You woke for a second time a couple hours later as Azriel returned from the bathroom, slinging an arm over your waist, and pressing his chest to your back as he burrowed himself back under the covers and into the safe haven the two of you had created. He started leaving soft kisses down from under your ear and along your neck, moving over you shoulder with a soft hum as you drew patterns on his arms, clutching his hands in yours as you pressed them into your chest, against your heart.

You opened your eyes to look around the room and saw Azriel had opened your curtains, the light muted due to the fact there was snow falling outside, muffling all sounds except the ones created in your home, the soft whispers of Azriel’s kisses and your gentle breaths. You watched as a robin landed on a branch outside your windowsill, a small twig clutched in its beak. Such a small twig would go on to create a home for this bird, alike the small romance that had bloomed your and Azriel’s deep, unending love, turning the cold house you had been in the night before into the warm home you were in now.

“We should do some baking today,” you whispered to him, “maybe gingerbread.”

“Apple pie,” he muttered, his face buried in your neck.

“Isn’t that a bit on the nose?”

“I love apple pie,”

“What about Rhubarb crumble and homemade custard?” you asked, stifling a laugh at the pout you could practically hear from Azriel.

“Mmm you’re a genius.” He whispered, pressing a longer kiss into the crook of your neck.

“I know it’s a curse.”

“Not just yet though,” he repeated your words from earlier and you smiled.

“No, not just yet.”

#acofas #acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acowar #acofs #acosf #rhysand

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mycrofts-gunbrella · 3 years

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Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Six)

AN- Two chapters in one night... hope you like them! Soft Holmes Brothers scene at the end because, especially after the Eurus situation, the boys truly do love and care for each other! Not proof read either of these yet so apologies if there are mistakes!

Word Count- 4405

The younger brother's eyes had flicked over you both only momentarily, the tiniest flick up of his lips at the side of his mouth that disappeared so quickly it could have been misinterpreted for a twitch.

"Ever the delight, Sherlock." Mycroft spoke, standing straighter, his chin poking up a little higher. Sherlock glanced over his posture and rolled his eyes.

"Oh for God's sake don't start that Mycroft. Had I blamed you for everything I can assure you I wouldn't have bothered opening the door, don't make it so obvious that you care about my opinion of you- it's embarrassing for both of us." And with that he spun around and headed up the stairs to 221B, leaving the door to the flat wide open and disappearing into the bathroom.

"Well that was.."

"Easy? I told you that you shouldn't worry." You nudged Mycroft into the building before ascending the stairs.

"Sherlock Holmes, possibly the only man in the world to forgive somebody for nearly killing him in a heartbeat, but held a 6 month grudge when I took the last custard cream from the biscuit jar when I was 12.." Mycroft muttered, making his way into the flat and sitting beside you on the two seater sofa. John walked into the room from the kitchen shortly after, a tray of tea and biscuits in hand as he said his hellos.

"Figured I'd stick the kettle on when you said you were on your way.. Greg shouldn't be long now." He gave a smile, taking his place in his own armchair. "How have.." He glanced at Mycroft. "How have you been? He won't admit it, but Sherlock's been worried about you." Mycroft took a breath, sending a polite smile in the direction of the army doctor.

"Doctor Watson, I can assure you that I am fine and have been perfectly well looked after." His eyes flickered to you for a moment and then back to the doctor. "I presume the pair of you have held up well as I haven't heard any reports of gunfire towards the wall for a fair bit of time." John grinned, casting his eyes over to the smiley face on the wall that had thankfully been left alone.

"Good. Yeah, uh, things here have been.. good.. too." A blank stare matched with a more thoughtful raise of lips. ".. Very good, actually.."

"Catch." Sherlock came stalking into the room, a damp flannel thrown in Mycroft's general direction which he caught expertly, not allowing a single moist patch to appear on his clothing.

"And this is.."

"A flannel? Christ Mycroft has trauma affected your brain cells that much?" Sherlock quipped, flopping down into his armchair and lazily holding his hand out for his tea that was a mere few inches away from his fingers. John placed the mug in his hand without thought or argument, his fingers brushing over Sherlock's slightly before moving away. A biscuit soon followed, John holding out the digestive while Sherlock partly opened his lips, and shoving the food between them. It was your turn to raise your brow now, but you didn't say anything, instead just nudging Mycroft with your knee to make sure he had seen it too. Of course he had. "It's for your face, Y/N's lip balm is all round your mouth and it's making me feel a bit sick." John's eyes widened as he looked between the pair of you. You shrugged your shoulders and smiled, Mycroft simply sweeping away the slightly pink balm from underneath his lip and folding the wet cloth back up to place on the side. At least he hadn't picked up that you did it on purpose. Before anybody else could speak, the sound of someone bounding up the stairs filled the flat.

"Sorry I'm late, Ms Hudson let me in an- what did I miss?" Greg stood breathless at the door, satchel slung over his shoulder and a carrier bag in his other hand, staring at the apparent awkward glances shared between half the room. You stood from the sofa and headed over towards him, swiftly wrapping your arms around him and placing a small kiss on his cheek to say hello. He made his way into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa closest to Mycroft, casting another look at everybody when his question still hadn't been answered.

"Nothing of importance. Mycroft and Y/N have obviously decided to stop moping around each other like lovesick teenagers and finally admitted they've been infatuated with each other for years.. Now you're all caught up, can we get these papers sorted out so I can be more productive with my time?" Sherlock huffed.

"Nothing of importance? Don't be an arse Sherlock, that's excellent news." Greg clapped Mycroft on his shoulder and shot you a toothy grin. "Declaration in the park was it? Might be a good enough reason for me to not punch you for closing off St James'.." John's eyes widened more, if it were possible.

"You just.. closed off St James'? Can you even do-" The look Mycroft shot John made him cut his sentence short. "Right, yeah. British Government." He nodded, standing to go fetch Greg a coffee (yourself and Mycroft still held a shared judgement against Greg and his hatred for tea) and continuing to ask questions about your newly confirmed relationship. Mycroft sat awkwardly through the encounter- briefly talking about his emotions in front of you was one thing, a whole flat full of people was entirely different- so you gave his knee a quick squeeze and answered for him. "Who bit the bullet then?" John sat down. "Christ I know I mistook the pair of you being together when I met you, so surely these two have been waiting longer for you to get on with it." Greg grinned, nodding in agreement at John's assumption. Sherlock, on the other hand, stay lying on his chair completely unphased by the conversation going on around him.

"To cut a long story short, we were watching telly, I said Stephen Fry was a bit sexy, Mycroft informed me that he used to get told he had a slight resemblance to him, I realised I'd stuck my foot in it and had a ramble.. Went from there. Nothing too exciting, sorry." You left out the parts where the night before you had handled a broken Mycroft to the shower, how he had gripped onto you, how you held him as you slept. You also left out the way he had allowed himself to cry, how you held him while he wept- and, for that, Mycroft was incredibly thankful. Sherlock probably knew though, somehow, in his Sherlock way of knowing things- but he was either too kind to announce it to the room, or didn't care enough to waste his breath.. probably the latter.

"That's disappointing. You've mentioned about fancying Stephen Fry for years, this could have happened ages ago." John teased.

"Nothing compared to Hugh Laurie though. I'm pretty certain that I'm straight but I'd let him-"

"The papers!!" Sherlock's shout cut Greg's ramble off, making the silver haired man jump and grab his satchel, handing out the reports in a way that reminded you of a teacher with test papers.

"Right, yeah. Sorry. Basically the proper forms aren't ready for another week or so so these are just a few basic questions- nothing too in depth yet since I wanted to give you guys time to... yeah just basic for now." Mycroft chose to read through all the questions before answering them, whereas Sherlock hastily scribbled his response to each question as he went along- the smaller details in the Holmes brothers' differences are always interesting to stumble upon. As he held the page in his hands, you carefully leant over to have a glance at the questions, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder and your cheek resting just against your fingers- blissfully unaware at the 2 sets of eyes openly staring at your movements, and the one set that watched from the side. Greg was right, in a way, the questions definitely weren't as overbearing as they could be- but that doesn't mean it was an easy task. The questions targeted Mycroft a lot more than it did John and Sherlock, asking things about scenarios and situations that had occured before they were taken, how long it had been since they had any contact with Eurus prior to that evening/ what they discussed, and a few basic questions about any incentives Eurus may have had, and anything that aided her into her plan. Of course the papers weren't labelled with the sister's name, they were generically printed and typically handed out to anybody involved in any kind of criminal behaviours, but that didn't make it seem any less like these were questions that targeted Mycroft in particular. Mycroft took a deep breath and laid the papers back onto the coffee table in front of him, pulling a pen out of his pocket and beginning to write. In this moment you had noticed the small bounce of his left leg, a movement only ever shown by him in times where he had a particularly stressful day at work, or a troubling encounter with his brother- it was a movement that let you know his brain was running a mile a minute and he felt a little more overwhelmed that usual. Without making a point of it, you move your right hand to rest on his mid thigh, allowing your thumb to rub small shapes into his leg to show your support.

Turning your gaze to the rest of the room, you noticed Greg's eyes on you, a grin on his face that practically stretched to his ears. You rolled your eyes at him, using your other hand to flip him off and smiled.

It had taken just under two hours in total for the boys to finish completely (well, an hour and twenty minutes for the Holmes siblings, an extra forty minutes for John whose brain simply didn't work as fast as theirs to convey the information on the paper). The time had passed fairly quickly, with yourself and Greg not wanting to disturb the silence and instead just drinking your hot drinks and stealing a couple of biscuits from the tray. You gave Mycroft's leg one last squeeze before sitting back against the sofa, stretching a little after finally getting out of that position.

"Thanks again for getting this done today." Greg spoke, taking the papers in and putting them in a plastic folder. "I'd better be off anyway, get these filed in." He stood, heading for the front door and tripping over the carrier bag he had brought in with him earlier. "Shit, yeah I almost forgot." He picked up the bag and handed it to you. "Got your coat, and I may have accidentally read your mind if you had been talking about Stephen and Hugh.." You dug through the bag and grinned as you pulled out the box at the bottom.

"You, Gregory Lestrade, are a bloody legend. God I could kiss you!" Your boxset of 'A Bit of Fry and Laurie' rested in your hands and you showed it to Mycroft, beaming at him. His lips raised at your reaction, showing a small glint in his eye, as you explained how now the pair of you would have to binge watch it since Mycroft had never got round to watching them before. Greg barked out a laugh.

"I wouldn't. I don't fancy being hunted by Mycroft's secret services." Mycroft let out a small laugh himself. And with that, Greg was gone and left the flat to the four of you once more.

***

You hadn't stayed at the flat long before you all made your way to Angelo's restaurant, even managing to convince Mycroft to just take a cab rather than bothering his chauffeur for a 5 minute journey.

"Ahhh Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson!" Angelo greeted, pulling the aforementioned men into an awkward half embrace, half headlock. "Back again so soon? I shall get your usual table set up, grab some candles. Anything for you!" The pair of men awkwardly shifted out of the hold and Sherlock offered a smile.

"Not today Angelo, we need a table for four if that suits your capacities here?" Sherlock peered round at the tables inside.

"Of course, a double date, very lovely to see! Come, come!" He led the four of you inside, you grinning at Mycroft at Angelo's casual mentionings of Sherlock and John's usual 'romantic' set up. You were all ushered inside of a small booth and handed menus, the benches were small but tolerable, your thigh just brushing against Mycroft's, him offering a shy smile at the close contact. "You stay here, I'll get to work on those candles. Just for you, Mr Holmes." Angelo spoke again, clapping Sherlock on his shoulder and disappearing into the back of the restaurant.

"He's.. uh.. a bit enthusiastic sometimes." John spoke, his cheeks burning a little at the memories of previous encounters here.

"Quite. Seems a pleasurable fellow." Came Mycroft's response, glancing over the menu. It had taken no time at all for the restaurant owner to appear back with a handful of small tealight candles in glass jars, and a single flower resting in a vase to lay on the table, taking everybody's orders and leaving once again. Then as the food turned up, Sherlock began to prod at the chips on his plate with his knife.

"What are you doing? Eat your bloody food, Sherlock." John quipped, elbowing the man to his side.

"Don't want it.. whoever decided that dessert was only customary after a meal? I'd much rather wait." John gave Sherlock a look and he spoke again. "Don't give me that look, this was your idea. Who even suggests 'late lunch' as a valid meal time? It's impractical. I didn't eat breakfast because we didn't get out of bed until well past the respected breakfast hour.." 'We'.. you didn't press. "So I had a sandwich at lunch which has ruined my appetite for this. Then I'll be hungry again later, but later than dinner time because of how late this lunch is." Sherlock childishly squashed his chip with his thumb. "It's just ridiculous.. they keep adding new names for new meals at new hours, I feel like we're becoming Bobbits."

"Hobbits, brother mine." Mycroft corrected, the faintest smile playing at the side of his mouth as Sherlock's words sounded alarmingly like the ones he had told you only this morning- it was nice when they just got along.

"That's what I said."

"No, you said Bobbits."

"Boys!" John warned, and you broke out into a small fit of giggles.

"We really can't take you anywhere, can we?" You chimed in. Sherlock just huffed, stabbing a chip and eating it as John gave him a stern look. It was quite sweet, actually, watching them be all domestic. By the time you'd finished your meals, yours and John's plates were clear, Sherlock's leaving only a few chips and a mouthful of burger as he found, after starting to eat the food, that he really enjoyed it and wanted more. Mycroft, on the other hand, had managed to leave little over half of his spaghetti bolognese, making comments about the pasta being far too rubbery, or the sauce being too thin, crossing the cutlery over in the centre and making a dismissive comment about making something to eat when he got home- you all knew he wouldn't.

Sherlock had practically jumped for joy when Angelo came out with a tray of chocolate fudge cake, offering slices around the table which you all, bar Mycroft, accepted happily.

"I shan't spoil my appetite for when I get home." Was his small excuse, raising a hand to prevent Angelo from spouting his claims that he had the best cake in London and that he must have a piece, and instead asking for a coffee. Without words being spoken, John cast his eyes over to you and you offered a small sad smile. Nobody had told John of Mycroft's past, but he was a doctor and always knew when signs were displayed. You had taken an extra fork from Angelo just in case and took a small bite with your own fork, unable to let out the (embarrassingly erotic) moan that had escaped you.

"Christ he wasn't lying, this is incredible." You praised, taking another small piece on the second fork. "Mycroft please give it a try." You offered your hand out towards him, the sliver of cake resting on the tip of the fork's prongs. He looked over at it, his mind telling him to give it a go, at the very least because it had been offered by you, but the image of himself in the mirror this morning came back to mind. He declined the offer and you sighed. Mycroft truly did love cake, and any sweet things, so it was heartbreaking for you to see him turning it away because of the thoughts that ran through his brain. Sherlock had already cleared his plate by this point and stood up abruptly, hoisting his coat back over his shoulders.

"I'm going to go out for a cigarette, care to join me Mycroft?" He had asked, walking past the table. Mycroft creased his eyebrows into a frown.

"Sherlock, the pact? I haven't smoked for three years."

"Neither have I, let's go." Sherlock spoke back quickly, hoisting his brother from the booth and taking the pair of them outside. You raised a brow at John who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I stopped questioning the pair of them and their motives a long time ago." He reasoned, the pair of you turning your heads to see the two Holmes boys outside resting against the restaurant's window.

"I try my best to.. they just still fascinate me." You spoke back, your eyes lingering on Mycroft a little longer before turning back to the table.

"So.. you and Mycroft. Going well?" John asked, his mouth raising in that side smile he often displayed when he was teasing somebody. "I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen Mycroft Holmes smile in a non-threatening way, and over half of those were from since you walked into the flat earlier. I think I can only just about count on two hands times where he's pulled an expression that isn't stoic and emotionless."

"Yeah.. I didn't expect it to happen, if I'm completely honest with you. We've spent so many years just avoiding the subject, but after.. Eurus.. I don't know. It flicked something in Myc that made him regret not doing something about it sooner." John nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "You also don't give him enough credit. Everybody just assumes he's this 'iceman' persona, but it's all a front.. I've watched him laugh so hard that tears fall from his eyes, he's one of those people who throws their heads back and lets out an absolute belter of an infectious laugh. I've seen him get angry at the telly if I came over and some stupid reality show came on the telly.. He shouted at Kim Kardashian once on there for some reason or another. I've stayed up all night with him after he had gruelling days at work, him offering to do the same for me if I had a bad case and couldn't sleep. And then, very recently, I watched him cry." You continued on. "Mycroft Holmes is one of the most emotional, caring people I've ever known, he is just incredibly particular at who gets to see it. You're a doctor, John. You know how experiences in life can shape one's emotional stability, how it alters their mental health. Had you grown up without very many people being kind to you, you'd be scared to let somebody else in too." You finished.

"Sorry.. I didn't mean it to come out in a bad way.. I just meant.. It's nice. Seeing Mycroft acting like that, it's.. nice." He apologised. You waved it off. You knew John didn't mean any harm.

"Mycroft and I are old news anyway.. What about you and Sherlock? When did that surface?" You asked, beaming at the deep red John's face had become as he choked on a sip of his drink. "Oh come on, don't act like that. We've all been waiting for this one to happen since you moved in."

"I.. I don't know what you-" Glaring at him, he stopped himself. "Yeah fine, okay. When we got back to the flat that night we went into the front room and Sherlock lost it. I'd never seen him anything like it before, he just.. he just sobbed into a heap on the floor." He explained, the nervous tapping of his fingers against his glass trying to distract him from his eyes watering. "I didn't know what else to do, so I scooped him up and put him in his bed. He begged me to stay with him and I did. Then he apologised to me, for dragging me in all of that mess, for almost getting me killed and he just wouldn't stop apologising.. So I stole the stereotypical movie move and kissed him. Just kind of went from there. I think that night made us realise that beating around the bush all these years wasn't helping either of us, and the thought that we could have lost the other only a few hours beforehand woke us up." He coughed, his voice breaking slightly.

"God look at us.. All the people in the world and we've landed with the Holmes'" You grabbed John's hand from across the table and laughed. "Makes you feel quite special though, doesn't it? That, equally, there were all the people in the world and they chose us?" John grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

"Could never tell them that though, their egos would go through the bloody roof."

***

"They're talking about us." Sherlock mused, breathing in the London air.

"It seems people do little else." Mycroft returned, casting his glance to you smiling with John at the table.

"She really does like you. I've spent years deducing everything about her to make sure she wasn't a secret Russian spy sent with the motive to kill you." The younger spoke playfully. "You could have eaten the cake."

"Hmm?"

"The cake. I know you wanted it, but you're going back to how you used to be. Now that you're together, you're nervous." Sherlock's voice was nonchalant, simple observations, which didn't ease his older brother at all. "It's pointless. She's entirely infatuated. I thought the childish doe eyes disappeared after being attracted to somebody for a few weeks, but she still looks at you like I look at a triple homicide."

"Resulting to similes now?"

"You need to stop that too. Dismissing it whenever somebody is trying to be... kind... to you. That's just annoying and not a good defence mechanism for insecurities, like a mask made of clingfilm, it's too obvious." Mycroft didn't speak in turn and Sherlock huffed. "She worries for you, she seeks for you to be comfortable in trialling situations, her eyes do that little light up thing every time you open your bloody mouth. Since standing here she's looked over 3 times and smiled to herself seeing you stand here with me without us arguing. I caught her 4 times on the way to the cab from the flat looking at your arse and your legs in that damned suit. You don't have to worry about anything with her- the way she looks at you is so lovesick it makes me queasy."

"And you know this how, Sherlock? Or is this another one of your cruel schemes to embarrass me?"

"Because, Mycroft, it's the same way you've looked at her for as long as I can remember you knowing her. Jesus, Mycroft, I haven't seen you smile this much since we were children.. before we did everything that led us to believe we were any better than anybody else, that we deserved more than sentiment. And it's the same way I.. the same way I look at him." Sherlock's eyes now locked onto John.

"Always did say there would be a happy announcement between the pair of you. Good to see I'm correct once again." Mycroft mused. He remained stoic, but his brother's words were whirring in his brain, leaving him in a state of shock at the curly haired man even displaying this form of kindness towards him.

"You told me once that caring isn't an advantage. But these last few days, no matter how short it has been, have already led me to believe that caring is perhaps the greatest advantage of them all. And I strongly believe you feel the same way, no matter what bull you make up to argue against it." The pair of them watched through the window once more, the image of you and John laughing at whatever joke had been shared between you. "We both have wasted many years fighting against this, and I don't want you to screw yours up. Y/N will remain by your side and feel the same way towards you, whether you wear a bin bag, lose your job, put on weight- she's in it for the long haul. She's spent so many years pining after you that she deserves the best from you and to be happy. And you, brother mine, have been through enough with not good people; you deserve the happiness too." Sherlock trailed the last sentence. It's incredibly rare for them to show it, but Sherlock and Mycroft would always have a particularly close bond, they've been through too much together not to- and so times like this were precious to them. Mycroft simply let out a small cough, reaching his arm over to rest on his younger brother's shoulder to give it a quick squeeze, before patting it twice and letting his arm rest back by his side.

"Sentiment appears to be dwelling well on you." Mycroft spoke, heading back to the door of the restaurant to head inside, holding it open for his brother.

"As it is on you, brother. As it is on you."

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crisp-sweet-pink-lady · 2 years

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Summer of Strawberry Shortcake: Best Pets Yet!

And so we begin season two of the 2003 reboot, when it got an actual TV series, but always kept the DVD market in mind, making sure there were two episodes on a theme that could be packaged together with a small bit of connecting animation.

I can see a definite improvement from the previous DVDs, even the menu! To show you what I mean:

See? It just looks much more polished. And while the first season DVDs only had the bonus music video as an extra, this one also includes some character profiles and a tour of Strawberry's house.

The animation is a little better, and the songs are much zippier this time around (though the last one is kind of boring). While the vocal performances are better, that seems to be due to the main cast being older, as the overall voice direction is still a bit lacking. And the decision to connect two 22 minute stories rather than stretch a plot over 44 minutes helps a lot, too. There are still scenes that move at their own pace, but they're not as noticeable.

The first episode is Here Comes Pupcake, and on its own it's a fine story of Custard dealing with the arrival of Pupcake into her life, but it's just not canon. And the worst part is, it wouldn't be that hard to make it fit into the established canon. There's no sign of Apple Dumplin', so it would be easy to say this story takes place sometime before Meet Strawberry Shortcake, except that in this episode Strawberry already knows her core group of friends, even though according to Meet Strawberry Shortcake she didn't meet any of them until after she owned Pupcake. So all you'd have to do is take out the scenes of her friends to make it work (and eliminate Strawberry's narration that claims this all happened just two weeks ago). But as the episode stands, it's non-canon.

The second episode introduces our first new character of the season: Peppermint Fizz, the first kid character to explicitly be an antagonist in any SSC universe (if you don't count Raisin Cane from the comics). As an antagonist, she does a decent job, but honestly, this story could have played out perfectly fine without her machinations, since the lesson isn't "don't cheat" (that's a future episode) but "all pets are the best because they're our friends." Any of the kids could have suggested having a pet show, and they still could have argued at the end over who did better in the show, only for the pets to show them they like having fun best, as they did in the episode.

Just like Pets on Parade before it, this is the first animated appearance of everyone else's pets, though I'm fairly certain all the pets of the core kids were mentioned on the website as soon as it was put up. Also like Pets on Parade, it includes a reptile lipsynching to a previously recorded track to throw a pet show. (And both Pets on Parade and the previous episode rhyme Custard with mustard in a song.)

The new format includes two songs per episode, regardless of whether it needs them or not, and in the case of this ep, I think one would be just fine. "The Best Pet Yet" is a jaunty tune that acts as a preparation montage for the pet show, but "You're My Berry Best Friend" closes out the episode, so not only is the story basically over, the song itself is seriously slow. Meanwhile, neither of Here Comes Pupcake's songs are strictly speaking necessary, they are at least both fun, with Strawberry singing an incredibly catchy ode to her cat and Custard getting to vent her frustrations against Pupcake in song form.

One last note: I found the "as-aired" scripts for these episodes online, and while they don't include any stage directions (those sometimes offer interesting takes on what's going on onscreen), it does include notes on dialogue and sound effects, which can be interesting, too. Such as Custard's sleep noises being described as "cute kitty snores" and Ginger Snap's dialogue as "90 mph." And Peppermint Fizz's first appearance is supposed to be "like The Grinch." Just some things I found amusing.

#strawberry shortcake #summer of ssc #ssc03 #best pets yet #pets on parade

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the-l-spacer · 3 years

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Summary: In which Madeleine's latest attempt to hash things out with Espresso gets a little... out of hand.

This is my first cookie run fic i. genuinely can’t believe im writing for this game now. Anyways, hope ya like it!!

He sees the knight striding towards him, spotless armour clinking smartly with each step he takes, cloak billowing ever-so-slightly behind him.

His lip curls, practically a reflex.

“Espresso. Do you have a moment?” Madeleine's voice, like his appearance, is meticulously crafted to capture the attention of anyone in his vicinity. A deep, resonant baritone that carries authority, brooks no room for disagreement, least of all disagreement from a particular surly practitioner of Coffee Magic.

Or at least, that’s what Madeleine likes to think. For all his chivalrous acts and airs seem to have no effect on Espresso in the slightest, who simply sighs and rolls his dark, bespectacled eyes.

“Do me a favour; skip the pretence that participation in this conversation is optional, and get to the point. I have research that needs attending to.”

Perhaps a few months ago, Espresso’s brusque reply would have stopped Madeleine in his tracks, wiped the genial smile off his face. But as it is, they’ve spent far too much time together (unwillingly, on Espresso’s part) for the other to be fazed by mere unfriendliness. So he simply barrels on as if Espresso had never spoken. “It appears as if that young band of cookies are keen on having us join their party.”

As one, they glance over to the campsite a little ways away, where Gingerbrave and Chilli Pepper are engaged in a mock-swordfight, wielding pieces of gathered firewood, with Wizard, Strawberry and Custard cheering on. Gingerbrave rushes forward, ‘sword’ held aloft, but Chilli Pepper sidesteps his attack, and before his momentum can carry him too far, grabs the scruff of his collar, and turns him to face her. “Sloppy work, kid. I could catch that coming from a mile away. Next time, try-” She pauses mid sentence, noticing Espresso and Madeleine’s gazes. She winks, and gives a two-fingered salute. “Hey! Wanna watch me spar with a buncha kids? There’s plenty of room on that log over there, but just a little warning, I charge adult spectators.”

Madeleine waves a hand. “No need to relieve our pockets just yet, friend Chilli Pepper. Espresso and I are perfectly content watching from afar.”

“And besides, we have better things to do,” Espresso adds, “Like being corralled by a paladin into having pointless conversations.” The last bit, he aims at Madeleine, who’s response is to grin wider.

If the irony in Espresso’s statement registers to Chilli Pepper, she doesn’t show it, and simply shrugs. “Don’t let me interrupt. You boys might wanna head a little further away to have that ‘pointless conversation’ though, it’s probably gonna get noisy up in this joint.”

“An excellent idea! My humblest thanks!” Madeleine sweeps into an exaggerated bow, and takes Espresso by the elbow. “My compatriot and I shall head a little further into the woods for our chat.”

Custard perks up at that, and shouts, “Be careful! There might still be cake monsters running around, and as king, I can’t let my subjects be hurt!”

“Not to worry, we’re more than capable of defending ourselves. If our previous encounters with those beasts suggested anything...”

As Madeleine talks, Espresso discretely tries to wriggle free from the hand on his elbow, but his attempts prove futile, Madeleine’s grip is loose but firm, forming a little cage around his arm.

He lets his arm go limp, and when the grasp loosens slightly in response, he flicks his free hand, around which (unbeknownst to the jabbering knight) shadows had been gathering for quite some time.

A tendril of magic whips around and strikes Madeleine’s wrist.

“-And as Knight of the Madeleine House, I was trained since I was but a little cookie, much like your merry band, to- ah!” When the tendril connects with a small thwack, he releases Espresso, jerking away as if burned (in actuality, the magic was really just a moderately heated slap. Espresso didn’t want to do any serious damage to Madeleine, after all.)

The seemingly permanent smile on the knight’s face falters, just for a second, and Espresso allows himself a moment of schadenfreude.

“Is... is everything okay, Madeleine?” Strawberry pipes up from her spot on the log.

“Quite alright, quite alright.” The ten-carat smile is back in full force, and once again, he waves his (non-injured) hand airily, though Espresso notes with some satisfaction the displeased side glance Madeleine shoots at him.

Espresso’s face pulls into a smile of his own, falsely sweet. “Well. Shall we be off, then?” He begins walking into the woods. True, he would much rather be tucked away in some quiet corner, poring over magical scrolls, but if he has to be subjected to this... chat, at least he can try to have some fun while doing so. Make Madeleine regret initiating contact, make him trail behind for once.

And sure enough, Madeleine follows after him, making long strides to catch up.

As they retreat into the forest, Gingerbrave shouts, “Come back in time for dinner! We’re having sweet jelly stew!”

“We’ll be there,” Madeleine replies, not needing to raise his voice for it to carry across the clearing where they had set up camp.

The other cookies give their final waves, and return to sparring, the sounds of cheering and wood striking wood fading the deeper in Espresso and Madeleine travel.

Eventually, the noises from the campsite fade entirely, replaced by the chirping of birds, and the soft rustling of trees. The last of the day’s light dapples through the jelly forest’s leaves, and Espresso might have called the whole scene pleasant, if not for the cookie next to him.

They come to a stop in a forest clearing. “Is this far enough for your liking, oh Knight-Commander of House Madeleine?”

Madeleine leans against a tree, the light glinting off his armour. “You know, the attitude really isn’t necessary, and neither,” he cocks his head, glossy hair spilling over one shoulder, his reprimanding smile akin to a teacher lecturing a particularly irritating student, “was the use of dark magic back there.”

Espresso smirks. “Ah. Have I discovered your weakness? Is the pride of House Madeleine scared of a little magic? I just meant for it to tickle, really.”

A scowl begins to form on Madeleine’s face, before he schools it back into careful neutrality. “You must be intelligent enough to grasp my meaning. It’s not the act itself, it’s the…” He gestures loosely in the air, his right hand still slightly red, “... the spirit of it all. Cookies who fight together shouldn’t turn on one another. It simply isn’t right.”

“Mmm. Mm hmm. Of course it isn’t.” Espresso, in a bid to minimize the dirt from the forest floor getting on his robes, opts to hover just a little above the ground, and Madeleine has to crane his neck to meet his gaze. “And I’m sure wrestling the cookie you’re supposed to be fighting with into the woods is so much more excusable.”

Madeleine bristles. “You wouldn’t have agreed to this conversation otherwise, as you’ve made so abundantly clear in the past. All I did was ensure you wouldn’t be able to weasel your way out of the inevitable yet another time.”

“What about our current situation makes you think this conversation is inevitable?” Espresso snaps. “I’ve told you time and time again I don’t care for your company. Our paths crossed once, we travelled together briefly to achieve our own goals, and parted ways. We work together acceptably, and we tolerate each other, barely. What more is there to be said between us?”

“Well, for one,” Madeleine says, standing just a bit straighter, as if to deliver a set of prepared lines, “I was telling you, before we were interrupted, that Gingerbrave and his fellows seem eager to have us as travelers alongside them.”

“Yes. And?”

“And I’m sure you are as keen as I am on accepting their offer.”

Espresso stiffens. He hates cookies who presume things about him, and more than that, he hates when those presumptions are right. After a moment, he bites out, “Even if I was, what of it.”

“We’ll be traveling together once again. Serving as their protectors, and all that.”

“So what? As I said, we’ve travelled in each other’s companies before.”

“Yes, but I believe this will be our longest journey yet. They seek answers, a way to defeat the evil forces rising, and this is no easy feat.”

“I seek no such thing,” Espresso scoffs, folding his arms. “I only know that they’re searching for the Forgotten Academy, and that particular locality has a library I’ve been meaning to peruse for a while. I plan to travel with them until that point, where we will then part ways.”

“Even then, according to my maps the Forgotten Academy is weeks away. Maybe a month. Months, if we keep up our current pace. A considerable amount of time that allows for sour dough to spoil further. I simply think it… unwise, to allow things between us two to reach such a point.” Having finally said his piece, Madeleine pushes himself off the roll cake trunk, and starts towards Espresso, open palm outstretched.

No, not again. They had done this dance before, and Espresso isn’t planning to retrace those steps. He whizzes backward, out of Madeleine’s reach.

“I’m not interested in becoming friends, knight,” he spits. “And I tire of your constant overtures.”

Madeleine’s hand returns to his side in an impatient motion. “Must you insist on being this- this difficult?” He asks, voice fraught with frustration. “It is a simple offer. Put our differences aside and work together amicably, if only to to make our journey more tolerable for us and our companions.”

“Ahhh but there’s the rub, Madeleine,” Espresso retorts, “I’m afraid our differences are too great to reconcile. If that is all you have for me, I think I’ll be returning to camp. I would say it’s been a pleasure, but… you know better.”

He makes to leave, floating quickly away to leave the knight behind, but catches a blur of movement from the corner of his eye. Before he can react, Madeline moves forward, his armour and shield glowing. With a flash, the shield comes down on the edge of Espresso’s long, dark cloak, pinning it to the forest floor.

Both of them hear the telltale sound of ripping fabric.

“Don’t move.” Madeleine warns.

Espresso’s vision goes red. He gathers the shadows to him, wreathing his clenched fists in black swirls of magic.

He doesn’t move.

A pause, then the shield lifts.

Espresso doesn’t wait to rush backward, heading straight for Madeleine. This time, it’s the knight that finds himself unprepared, as Espresso grabs him, and with the help of his magic, lifts him in the air, slamming him against the trunk of the nearest tree.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” he growls.

Their faces are close enough now that Espresso sees the tiniest twitch of fear in Madeleine’s expression. He doesn’t yield, keeping him pinned to the trunk.

Madeleine speaks, holding both hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Now, now, I admit I was rather hasty, but there really is no need for-“

“- doesn’t feel nice, does it? Being trapped against your will?” Espresso cuts him off.

“Listen. I’m sorry things had to come to that point.”

Espresso sneers. Just as he predicted, Madeleine’s ‘apology’ is anything but. His mouth forms the syllables, but like a pedestrian one accidentally jostles on the street, his ‘sorry’ is merely a formality, said to hear the sound of his own voice.

Espresso doesn’t buy it, is what he’s saying.

“Save it. Save your pithy little apologies and insincere attempts at friendship for some other cookie.”

Madeleine’s face twists in indignation. “I’m not being insincere!”

Espresso drops him unceremoniously, the knight’s armour clattering when he lands on the soft earth. He tries not to betray his own fatigue, both in mind and body. Madeleine is heavy after all, weighed down further by his armour and weapons, making the act of holding him aloft (even aided by magic) one that had taken a not-insignificant toll on him. His feet touch down lightly on the ground, the glowing aura around him fades.

“Oh, spare me,” Espresso says coldly. “Every action, every toss of your hair or flick of your cloak, every word that comes out of your mouth betrays your insincerity.”

Having gathered himself, Madeleine finally snaps, drawing his sword from its scabbard with a metallic hiss. “How dare you.” His voice, a dangerous murmur, grows louder and louder, until it carries to the treetops. “I don’t know what I have done to offend you so. I attempted to be friendly, and reach out with offers of peace, as my family taught me to do for years, but you insist on rebuffing me, sullying my good name with your.. your insolence!”

The sword is pointed at Espresso’s throat, now, and the magician takes a careful step backward, keeping an eye on the gleaming blade. Madeleine doesn’t seem to notice, however, as he barks, “I’ve been lenient in the past, but as a cookie of honour, I can’t let such words continue to slide. The Divine, protect me!”

Celestial light bathes the forest clearing, surrounding Madeleine in its radiance. He lunges forward and swings his sword, a ray of light arcing from its blade. Espresso, caught unawares, finds himself knocked back, sent stumbling to catch his footing.

He regains his balance, clutching on to a tree branch, and counters the next light ray with an explosion of coffee beans that makes Madeleine's attack fizzle out.

“You know I’m right about you,” Espresso taunts, “in fact, we both know this is all a little charade you put on, because-” he plants his feet firmly in the ground, bracing himself against a third wave of light magic. “- beneath all your bravado, your shiny armour and fancy new weapons, you are empty.”

“That’s not true!” Madeleine roars, attempting to close the distance between them. But Espresso splays his hands, and a swirling vortex forms, pulling the paladin backward and into its dark center. Madeleine staggers in pain.

“You’re just a selfish glory-seeker, as slow and soulless as the monsters that- gah!”

Dexterity had never been his strong suit, so when Madeleine’s retaliating attack comes, he doesn’t dodge quickly enough. He sees the sword swing, feels an impact across his face, before his world goes blurry.

His glasses!

A lance of panic spikes through his chest.

He can’t see. He can’t see and he can’t look for his glasses either because if he steps on them that’s it. And Madeleine will win or worse he’ll just leave him here, in the middle of the woods.

The attacks stop coming.

The forest is silent once more, but for the two cookies’ heavy breathing.

Then, Espresso hears the crunching of leaves, sees the blurry shape of Madeleine stride towards him. He readies his magic. Madeleine passes him, and bends down over a spot Espresso can’t quite see.

A familiar metallic object is pressed into his hand.

“Your glasses.”

In a flash, Espresso has them on again, and exhales in relief when the forest comes back into focus.

“I never meant to knock them over. I’m sorry.”

Espresso is about to respond, but Madeleine says, “We should not have let our discussion escalate like this.”

“I’m sorry. We?!” Espresso’s recently restored vision colours. “When it was you who dealt the first blow? You, who initiated this discussion in the first place, who-” He trails off, righteous indignation fading slightly when he sees Madeleine, who stands at arm’s length away from him, both hands resting on the pommel of his sword, his expression unreadable.

“..Yes. Fine. As allies, we shouldn’t have turned on each other like this.”

Madeleine says nothing, so Espresso continues. “But as our previous attempts at civility have shown, you are incapable of holding a conversation without trying to domineer over me, push me into situations I do not want to be in. And I… I admit that I went too far in my personal assessments of you, but the fact remains that I simply cannot work with you beyond what we already are. Allies, and nothing more.”

For the second time, Espresso begins walking back to camp. Madeleine makes no attempt to stop him. “Thank you for retrieving my glasses. Good evening.”

Before he can fully retreat into the copse of trees, he hears Madeleine’s voice, saying, “Wait.”

Espresso pauses for a moment, and continues walking.

“Wait. Please.”

The word ‘please’ sounds so strange on Madeleine’s lips, and Espresso realises he can’t recall if the cookie had ever said the word in all the time they had worked together.

He turns his head.

Madeleine is leaned against a tree, arms folded and a foot kicked up against the trunk. His face is hidden by a curtain of hair.

“You are from The Republic, yes?”

Thrown by the sudden question, Espresso says, “Yes. The both of us are.”

“You’re aware that The Republic is a peaceful nation. No conflict within its gates, no monsters to be found without.”

Where is this going? Espresso responds, “Safe, sterile, and utterly boring. I’m aware.”

“Then what,” Madeleine turns his face away from Espresso, addressing the trees, “what use do you think such a nation has for soldiers? For knights?”

Oh.

Madeleine laughs, not his usual hearty guffaw, filled to the brim with bravado, but a short and bitter exhalation. “Do you know what it’s like to be, as you called me, the ‘slow’ one, in a family of scholars and politicians? For your only prowess to be your physical strength, in a place where that skill is entirely unnecessary?”

“But the knight order you lead-”

“- is purely for show. Just cookies dressed up in shiny armour to remind the other kingdoms we’re not to be trifled with. None of them have actually seen a day of real combat outside of sparring.”

Espresso is back in the clearing, picking a position next to Madeleine so he doesn’t see his sympathetic expression.

“Then… the reason you and all the knights were sent out?”

“As I said, my mission was to seek the legendary Soul Jam that is supposed to grant us cookies eternal life. Not that anyone in the Republic really expects us to find it.”

“They wanted to get rid of you, then.”

Madeleine visibly flinches at Espresso’s words. “I wouldn’t put it so bluntly, but… yes. I’m welcome back home, of course. If I were to return, I’d be met with trumpets and fanfare, but not much else, and certainly not anything approaching respect from those who truly matter.” The knight clenches his fist. “This quest is to be my saving grace. My only purpose, and the only way one like me can conceivably bring pride to House Madeleine. The only way I can be of use”

Espresso regards Madeleine, the revelation casting the cookie in a new light.

“So.. yes, Espresso. I am a selfish glory-seeker. Perhaps I have no other choice but to be.” Madeleine’s previously ramrod-straight posture is gone, and in its place his fists are clenched, shoulders hunched inwards, his hair tumbling forward, shielding his face from view.

And a small part of Espresso feels the strangest urge to push that hair back, to place a comforting hand on the paladin’s shoulder. Anything to stop what has to be the strongest — the most annoying, surely, but the strongest nevertheless — cookie he knows from curling into himself, from hurting like this.

But he holds himself back. All he lets out is a soft, “I think I know how you feel. Not entirely, but some of it.”

Madeleine turns to look at Espresso, a blank expression on his face. “You do.”

The mage lets a spark of magic fly from his hand - a single, glowing coffee bean surrounded by dark shadow. “You have called what I do ‘black magic’ in the past.”

Madeleine, suddenly stricken, says, “I wouldn’t go so far as to call it ‘black magic’, but-”

“- Listen. You have, countless times. And it annoys me to no end, but I understand why. It does look like it, no?” He conjures more coffee beans, letting them spin in circles around him. “I’ve had this ability since I was a child. It did not come from dark origins, I did not make a pact with evil forces to obtain it, as some have believed. It simply was. My magic, like your physical strength, is a part of me.”

Madeleine simply nods.

“But people don’t understand Coffee Magic. Whenever I demonstrated my abilities, I’d be shunned, the respectable citizens of our beloved Republic saying that I was a child of Dark Enchantress Cookie.”

“Espresso…” His magic fizzles out, and now, it is his turn to look away, incapable of facing the pity that is surely in Madeleine’s gaze.

“I was barred from every magic school. I had to learn, and practice, and make it on my own. If I didn’t have Latte Cookie, I don’t know how I would have-” Espresso shakes his head. “No matter. All I am saying is that I do know how it feels, not to belong. To have to carve a place for yourself among people who can’t respect you.”

A hand settles on his shoulder, and Espresso almost flinches. He looks up, and his gaze meets Madeleine’s, earnest and apologetic. “Espresso, first and foremost, I am sorry that I ripped your cloak in trying to keep you here.”

Espresso’s eyes travel to his torn (and expensive) wizard’s cloak. “It’s fine. I’ll just have to get it repaired once we return to camp.”

Madeleine continues. “And I’m sorry, truly sorry that I misjudged you based on your magic. That I pushed when I should have respected your wishes. Respected you.”

And this time, Espresso believes Madeleine’s words. He lets his own hand creep upwards to rest over the knight’s.

He sighs. “And I apologise, too. I made undue assumptions about you, and let these assumptions colour my actions. I treated you poorly, and for that, I’m sorry.”

When their eyes meet again, it is as if the forest goes silent, nature’s rustle and hum being forgotten as the two look at each other, and for the first time, understand.

Of course, no moment can truly last, and it is Espresso who breaks the spell, gently moving Madeleine’s hand off his shoulder. “Naturally, don’t think this means I’ll let you strongarm me into doing whatever you want me to. You still irritate me. Incessantly.”

Madeleine chuckles. “Naturally. Besides, I do not imagine such actions will be necessary in the future. I think we understand each other perfectly clearly, now.”

Espresso lets a grin creep across his face. Rolling his eyes, he says, “Don’t assume you know everything based on a tidbit of my past. I encompass multitudes, Knight-Commander.”

“In turn, I request that you not write me off just yet,” Madeleine responds teasingly. “I may not know everything about you, but I would be very interested to,”

Both their eyes widen, Madeleine realising the forwardness of his statement. “That is. I will give you the space you need, certainly, but if you ever feel like-”

“- Wait. Stop.” Espresso takes a breath, lets it out. “I- I do feel the same way. You’re a good fighter, and I did not let myself give you a fair chance.”

He crosses the short distance between them, and extends a hand. “I’m Espresso Cookie of The Republic. Founder of the Coffee Magic School. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Madeleine regards the outstretched hand in wonder.

"... Don't make a big deal of it, knight."

He puffs out his chest, taking Espresso’s hand. “And I’m Madeleine Cookie of The Republic. Servant of The Divine, Knight Comm-” He stops himself, clears his throat. Then, he smiles and simply says, “I’m Madeleine Cookie. It’s an honour to get to know you.”

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #how 2 tag this aaaah #espresseleine

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honesthammie · 3 years

Text

4th prompt part 2

The silence was appreciated as your mind wrapped up today's event. You had met your soulmate in a goddess of a woman. Everything you had discovered so far was perfect. You watched as she pulled a metal disk and metal stick from her pockets. The metal stick made a strange buzzing sound and glowed a faint orange at the tip as she hovered over the disk.

"What are you doing?" You asked after watching her in curiosity for a few moments. You would've let her continue as her face was quite the sight. Her eyes were sparkling with intent and her nose had the most adorable scrunch.

She stopped for a moment as you spoke as if thinking on what to say before continuing. "I'm scanning for any spider eggs in the building so we can take them with the other spiders to a planet of their own. A planet without civilisation but full to the brim with creatures they can eat. I think, the fam got them all. No, fam still doesn't seem right. The team does sound better!"

"A planet? What, are you some kind of alien?"

"Yes. Would that be a problem?" She asked. From the way her eyes sparkled, I believed her. Great, no wonder why she seemed so ethereal! So when I say, she's out of this world, it'd be a fact and not a flirtatious comment! For fuck sake, that's one of my best lines as well! Maybe I could use it when the time is right?

"Nope. After the discoveries of my life recently, that's actually the most believable thing. Please don't ask yet. However, those spider babies trust me. You aren't going to get them to listen without me. I spent at least a full 5 hours with them, they trust me more than you. Come on little Miss Sunshine, hop to it, the spiders won't wait forever." I spoke with confidence. I knew she knew, she needed me. That's why she followed me. "I'm (y/n) by the way"

"Great name! Love that name, was always one of my favourites. I've always fancied myself as a (y/n) but the faces never seem to fit it. I'm normally a John but I can't be now I'm a woman. Why don't you give me an alias for when I'm undercover?"

"Hmmm. I quite liked the name Alice and you certainly suit that name. Is there a name people call you when you aren't undercover. What do family call you?"

"Alice. I love that! I'm keeping Smith. Alice Smith. Perfect! Knew you'd be the one to help me. People tend to call me the Doctor. So do I for some reason. Wish I knew why."

This cute blonde alien was more mysterious the more we talked. She told me of how her ship goes in time as well as in space. She told me of the time of when she met Robin Hood with an older face and a companion named Clara. All this talk and I wasn't bothered once by it. I could listen and watch her all day as she talks about adventures she's been on. She puts all the theatrics on and waves her arms about with so much passion and her eyes show her emotions so clearly. But I also saw age. If she's older than she looks, just how old is she? Not that it bothers me, it's just, if she's like hundreds of years old, she's probably had other lovers and I don't know if plain old me can compete with that.

Sooner than we realised, we came towards a blue Police box. She clicked her fingers and waltzed right in. This must be her TARDIS. I walked inside with awe. The ship was beautiful inside. Like a gem hidden as an ore. The golden and blue lights perfectly reflected her personality.

"It's fucking massive Sunshine! Ya didn't warn me about walking into a football field! No wonder why thousands of spiders seemed no problem! Fucking hell!" I stated as my eyes scanned the room in front of me. Then I felt a little tug on my right trouser leg. I looked down and saw a little spider wanting my attention. I bent down and picked him up. He seemed happy to be held like that so I kept him in that position as I wondered towards the Doctor.

I had so many questions I wanted to know and I'm sure she has too. But now was not the time for that. We needed to get these spiders to their new home. I continued to watch the Doctor as she danced around something she called a console. She was pressing buttons and pulling levers and many more things until the ship made a strange wheezing noise and I was thrown off my feet. Thankfully I was caught by someone. I looked up and saw an oldish man.

"Hello Love! I can tell this your first time here. We all fell down when she first did that with us. You learn to find something to grab onto. I'm Graham by the way." Graham spoke gently but loudly over the noise of the ship. I couldn't help but giggle, my grandad used to call me Love too.

Then as quick as the ship started, it came to a gentle stop. I looked around and notice the same 2 people from earlier. The girl was smiling and laughing to something the boy mentioned. They must be old friends. I then noticed the Doctor walk towards the doors and open them just enough for her to check outside.

"Right (n/n). I'm calling you that as we are friends now. Go on, it's your first new planet and you care about these spiders more than we do so I think it's best if you check everything it perfect for them!" The Doctor spoke with excitement. She even clapped her hands for a moment, obviously not being able to control the surge of energy running through her.

I held the spider in my arms and the doors opened in front of me. I closed my eyes for a moment as the light blinded me temporarily. I could feel the warmth of a sun and the cool breeze the gently whipped past your face giving you the perfect cooling needed. The planet smelled sweet yet sour like Toxic waste sweets. I could hear many creatures making strange noises, some were doing a high pitched growl and some others were doing deep scream. Then there were nicer sounds like birds tweeting but in a lower key and something sounded like a piano, specifically an old ragtime piano.

I slowly opened my eyes and noticed the silver sky and its 4 suns in each direction. I noticed that the high pitched growl was from a small flying frog like creature and the deep scream was from a big rabbit- horse like creature that was just chewing the purple leaves off the metal looking trees. The bird like sound belonged to a small Robin like creature, but instead of a red chest it was a beautiful blue hue and it had silver eyes that sparkled just right. The Ragtime piano sound belonged to a dog-raccoon like creature that scampered away with its mouth full of the fallen berries that the rabbit-horse dropped from the leaves. The grass beneath was as black as ink and the pond to the right of me was a strange red colour.

"Well what do ya think? I personally think it's perfect but you seem to know these arachnids better than me so, I could be wrong, although, I'm not often" The Doctor spoke with eagerness. I noticed her looking at me as I took in the world around me. Why does this feel all too familiar to me? Why do I like the escapism of Earth? Why is this so, freeing?

I took a deep breath in. "Its perfect Doc. The spiders will love it here! They'll adapt pretty quickly I believe. The creatures are big enough to satisfy them. Although the sounds are a little off putting." I put the spider in my arms in the oddly cotton soft grass and watched as the thousands of others followed in its footsteps. Some carried the baby spiders and others carried the eggs. They had already found a cave to lay the eggs and started weaving some webs within 10 minutes.

Once I was happy with everything, I said my goodbyes and entered the strange ship once more. I could feel fresh tears sting my eyes like tiny hot needles. I get so attached so quickly and I noticed the string warm up and I checked on my soulmate, she was looking at me with an all too familiar look, the look of complete adoration. So the string tells me when her love for me evolves until we kiss? I mean, that's when it disappears for everyone else.

"This was great Sunshine! I had a ride of a lifetime, I really did. So I guess, you can drop me off home, I'm probably not wanted and I don't wanna ruin your team dynamic here."

"Why on Earth would you think that? I was actually wondering if you'd like to join us. Those spiders trusted you and having someone like you would really make the adventures more thrilling. Besides, I really like you and there's something special about you and I can't place my finger on it. I don't like not knowing things. If I drop these off home for a bit, would you mind if I ran some tests on you?"

"Really? Sure. I don't mind. I actually wanna know aswell. You see, I know what's special but I don't want to tell you in front of the others, its a bit embarrassing." I asked whilst blushing. She nodded her head and set the TARDIS coordinates to Sheffield. The Doctor promised she'd be back in a week and set the TARDIS to float in our solar system whilst she got to work on me.

We walked into what I can assume is some sort of med Bay. The walk had conversations about the last planet and how we thought the spiders would adjust. Eventually she sat me down on a white bed.

"So, you said you knew why you were special. I don't like cliffhangers so I'll give you a custard cream if you tell me." She said as she got a paper document and waited for me to speak.

"I don't know how or why but have you ever heard of the red string of fate story?" I asked, wondering how to word this without sounding weird. She nodded her head in understanding. "Well, when I turned 16, I could see everyone's red strings. The world was covered in red. I was confused at first until I read that story."

"Hmm. That is interesting because all stories have some truth to them. Some are exaggerated and some are exactly as said. Well that story is a good example of that. Thousands of years ago, there were 2 species of human, homo sapiens and homo spectrians. Spectrians were low on numbers in population as they'd spend almost all their life playing match maker. You'd know Spectrians as Cupids. However when battles and wars happened, Cupids were out of a job as everyone had to focus on the country and not themselves. This is where arranged marriages started happening and Cupids were becoming depressed. Eventually the Cupids decided to blend in with the humans and became virtually extinct. You might be the only Cupid left in the universe, other than Valentine himself." She explained it so well.

"Can Cupids see their own string?" I asked. She paused for a moment. Her eyes flickered between heartbroken and hopeful. I felt the string flicker between cold and toasty warm just like her eyes.

"No. Cupids weren't supposed to have soulmates. But I guess you are technically half human so maybe that makes sense. Do you know who your soulmate is?"

"She's amazing. She's like a Goddess. When I first saw her I immediately thought, She's too fucking perfect for someone like me. She incredibly smart too but, can be oblivious. I mean, I only met her a few hours ago and I'm fucking smitten with her. She reminds me of sunshines and rainbows. I'm just waiting for her to make a move." I told her. She looked at me for a moment, processing this new information. She smirked for a moment once she figured it out.

"Well my soulmate had me wrapped around her finger the second she jumped in front of a spider to save her life. A bold move like that normally makes me mad but, she did it so well. I haven't known her long but I can see me being by her side forever, travelling the stars. She reminds me of those stars actually. The way she sparkles in the light. I love you (y/n) with both of my hearts." She spoke softly as we slowly leaned in. When she finished, she planted her soft lips on mine and the red string was gone. Not that I noticed until an hour later when we picked the team up and held hands to announce our relationship.

Maybe dating a sunshine is exactly who I needed.

#13th doctor #thirteenth doctor x reader #female reader #13th doctor x reader #soulmate

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adenei · 4 years

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Finding My Way To You - Chapter 7

AO3 // FFN

Making Things Right

Hermione woke first the next morning, Ron’s arms still wrapped around her torso. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, replaying the previous night in her head. Girlfriend. She was his girlfriend now. It was everything she’d been wishing for, and she was determined not to muck it up.

She carefully extricated herself from his arms and got up to make breakfast. Hermione pulled out the bacon and eggs, and placed them on the counter. This couldn’t be so hard, right? She’d seen Mrs. Weasley cook them hundreds of times. I can do this, Hermione thought. She pulled out two pans, and began peeling strips of bacon out of the package and onto the pan. It took a few attempts at cracking the eggs before there were no shells to fish out of the bowl, but she was finally successful. Hermione mixed the eggs together and waited for the butter to heat up in the pan before she poured them in. It was when she popped a few slices of toast in the toaster that she realized things were starting to come together and she couldn’t quite keep up.

“Attempting to make breakfast this morning?” Hermione jumped at Ron’s voice when she turned around and saw him leaning against the entryway.

“Trying not to burn anything is more like it. I think I may be a bit over my head here,” Hermione admitted. “I guess I’m really not good at everything.”

“That’s not true, it just takes practice. Want some help?”

“Would love some,” she accepted his offer gratefully.

Together they worked in tandem, and Ron helped her make sure nothing burned. He flipped the bacon, and directed Hermione on when to start scrambling the eggs. At one point, she felt his arms wrap around her waist as he helped guide her when demonstrating the easiest way to flip bacon to avoid splattering bacon grease. Hermione felt her skin erupt in gooseflesh as shivers climbed up her spine. Did he have any idea what he was doing to her?

When they were seated at the table, eating the breakfast they’d made together, Ron spoke. “So I was thinking…”

“About what?”

“I want to take you out on a proper date today. Kind of like I tried to do yesterday, except you didn’t know.”

“Yesterday was meant to be a date?” Hermione almost dropped her fork at his confession.

“I know, barmy, right?” Ron shook his head.

“N-no, not at all. It was-” Hermione thought back on their trip to the museum and then lunch at the cafe. The flowers made even more sense now that she thought more about it. “It was really sweet. I don’t know how I didn’t notice.”

“So what about a do over, then? We can go back to the museum now that we’re not on a time crunch? And we can try another restaurant if you’d like?”

“That sounds wonderful. Though I was hoping there was one other thing we could do first?”

“Yeah, anything.”

“What do you think about inviting my parents here for dinner? I feel bad about how we ended things last night. I need to make things right with Mum, and I don’t think I can do that at their home.”

Ron waited to make sure she was finished. “Sure. We can find something at the grocer if you’d like? Or we could explore the other restaurants. Whichever you’d like. I know how to make Mum’s Shepherd’s Pie,” he offered.

Hermione’s face lit up. “That sounds perfect! I think there’s a bakery nearby and we could pick something up on our way back for pudding?”

“Sounds like a plan. So, should we get ready for our date, then?” Ron flashed his lopsided grin her way.

“Yes! I’ll write a letter inviting my parents while you’re in the loo? We can drop it off when we head to the museum?” Hermione asked as Ron nodded.

Finally, it felt like they were in sync with each other again.

~o~

The day played out as perfectly as it had yesterday. Hermione was ecstatic to explore more of the museum, and they spent a little longer so that Hermione could finish seeing all of the exhibits she’d missed the day before. They stopped at a different cafe for lunch, and enjoyed eating outside on the patio, watching other tourists and locals rush by on the busy sidewalks.

Ron saw Hermione’s eyes linger over the windows of the bookshop and he laughed. “Didn’t you get your fill yesterday?”

“Well, we were on a time crunch, you know. Do you mind if I go in for a bit?”

Ron shook his head. “I’ll go check the bakery down the street and I’ll meet you back here, okay?” She hugged him in thanks and kissed his cheek before disappearing behind the shop’s doors.

Ron had to remind himself to wipe the smile off his face as he walked to the bakery and picked out an assortment of custard tarts and chocolate cupcakes. He knew what his and Hermione’s favorites were, and he only hoped these would suffice for her parents, whom he knew were not huge sugar fans.

He walked out of the bakery, bag in hand, and stopped outside the florist’s shop before returning to the bookstore. He knew Hermione wouldn’t be close to ready to go, and he wanted to replicate yesterday’s date as closely as possible. The florist was ecstatic to see him again and asked how his ‘girl’ liked the assortment of roses. Ron’s ears turning scarlet was all the telling that the florist needed to know it had been a successful purchase.

“So are you here for red today?” he asked curiously.

“Er, yeah, actually. One red rose, I was thinking. Wrapped with some of that white filler stuff,” Ron said.

“Baby’s breath? Yes, of course! Let me prepare that for you. I’m so glad things worked out. Was a bit worried when I saw you with Mr. Granger yesterday. Glad it’s all sorted.”

“Do you know the Grangers well?” Ron asked curiously.

“Well enough. Hugo loves gardening as a hobby, so he comes in at least once a week to talk shop. He’s a good guy you know. Loves his daughter very much. And by the looks of it, so do you.”

“Er, yeah. You’ll put in a good word for me, I hope?” Ron chuckled.

“As long as you keep endorsing my business,” the florist let out a hearty laugh. “This one’s on the house, though. Now, don’t keep your girl waiting.”

“Are you sure?” Ron said, reaching for his wallet. He needed to give him something.

“Yes, I’m sure. Have a wonderful day, young man!” he beamed at Ron, who thanked him profusely.

By the time Ron made it back to the bookshop, Hermione was sitting on a bench outside waiting for him. “There you are! For a second, I thought you forgot about me,” Hermione joked.

“Never! Sorry it took me so long. I needed to make an extra stop. This is for you,” Ron said, handing her the singular rose.

“Ron, you didn’t have to do th-” she looked up at him when she realized what it was.

“I don’t suppose you need to ask the meaning of this one?” Ron asked through his smile.

“No, not this time,” Hermione answered softly. “Thank you.” She leaned up on her tiptoes to place a hesitant kiss on his lips. It still felt surreal that she could do that now. Kiss him when she wanted.

“Should we stop by the grocer’s before heading back then? We’ll probably need to start dinner soon. It’s already past four.”

“Oh, yes, you’re right! I told my parents six! Let’s go.”

~o~

Ron was pulling the Shepherd’s pie out of the oven as they heard a buzz come from the intercom. “That must be them!” Hermione said. “I’ll go down and meet them. Be right back.”

He watched her leave as he set the hot dish on the center of the table. Ron picked up his wand and used magic to set the table while he waited for them to return. When Hermione walked back in the door with her parents, they all exchanged pleasantries and prepared to eat while dinner was still warm. Her parents had brought a bottle of wine that Hugo opened and poured glasses for everyone.

As they tucked into their meals, Jean looked at her daughter after taking a few bites. “Hermione, when did you learn to cook? You never showed an interest growing up so I wasn’t expecting- This is delicious!”

“I still haven’t really learned how to cook, Mum. Ron did most of the work, and I helped chop the vegetables and peel the potatoes,” Hermione explained.

Mrs. Granger observed her daughter and then Ron for a moment before saying, “Well, it’s very well done.” Her voice wasn’t as stiff as yesterday, but there was still a chill that lingered.

“I have to agree, Ron. This is one of my favorite dishes! It’s been a while since I’ve had one as good as this!” Hugo held up his win glass as he said, “Cheers.”

“Thanks, it’s my Mum’s recipe. I’ve helped her a lot with it, so it’s one of those that’s always in the back of my mind. I was hoping it wasn’t too simple to serve.”

“Not at all, not at all! It’s brilliant,” Hugo said.

An easy quiet fell over the table as they continued their meal. After Hermione took her last bite, Ron noticed her steeling herself to address her parents. “Mum, I’m sorry about last night,” she started.

Mrs. Granger looked up at her daughter. “It’s fine, Hermione, we don’t need to discuss it now.” Ron caught her eyeing him briefly before she continued. “When you come home, we can discuss it more.”

“I-I’m not going home with you and Dad. I’m staying here, with Ron.”

“Hermione, I hardly think-”

“No, Mum. I love you and Dad, but Australia isn’t my home.”

“Well, unless you’ve kept the house in England to yourself, I don’t reckon your home is there, either, is it?” her mother retorted.

“Er, no, I guess not. I’m not sure I know where home is, but it feels the most like home when I’m with Ron.” Hermione’s cheeks tinged a slight pink at her admission.

Her mother stared at her. “Darling, I hardly think you should be trusting that judgement right now.”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but her father beat her to it. “Jean, I think you’re being a bit unfair.”

“Unfair? Hugo, we’ve been worried sick about our daughter for months, not knowing what happened! Only for her to show up at our doorstep to come bring us home to England, insisting that everything’s safe now! Telling tales of how she dropped out of the Wizarding school we reluctantly allowed her to attend, and finding out she spent the better part of the last year living in a tent with two teenage boys!”

“Who have been my best friends for seven years!”

“And one you’re no doubt sharing a bed with. Don’t think I didn’t notice there’s only one bedroom, young lady!”

Ron felt compelled to say something. He felt that Mrs. Granger’s underlying issues with this were related to him. He needed to talk to her. To set the record straight. She’d never been this cold to him at King’s Cross, or when he’d gone with his Dad to pick up Hermione. He looked to Hugo, who nodded. That was all he needed.

“Mrs. Granger, would you mind taking a walk in the park across the way with me?” Ron asked.

Both women looked taken aback at his question. “Ron, I don’t think-” Hermione started to say.

“Hermione, I think it may actually be a good thing. Jean, you should go,” Hugo intervened. “We’ll take care of the dishes.”

Ron stood up and headed out the door and down the stairs. He didn’t grab his jacket, but the night air was relatively warm, and he had his Weasley sweater on. When Jean met him outside they walked silently across the road and entered the park. Ron hoped that Jean would speak first, so he could get an idea of what was bothering her, but she was tight lipped.

He strengthened his resolve and decided to start the conversation. “Mrs. Granger, I know I messed up-”

“That’s an understatement!” she exclaimed as she cut him off.

“I know, trust me, I know,” he hoped she could sense the pain in his voice. No one knew how much it tore him apart than himself. “I want to make things right, or at least explain, but I can’t do that unless I know what I’ve done wrong in your eyes. There’s not a day where I’m not trying to make it up to her.”

Mrs. Granger huffed in frustration. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Then start with the first thing that’s been bothering you, before you knew I left them last winter.”

“You broke her heart in sixth year. She was absolutely miserable when she came home for Christmas. Hermione tried so hard to hide it, but a mother always knows. I was rooting for you! Why do you think Hermione was always able to spend the summers with your family? I knew she was happiest when she was with you. Not your family. You. Do you know how much convincing it took with Hugo? And then you went and broke my only daughter’s heart by choosing her flouncy little roommate.”

“I know. I have no excuses for that.”

“That doesn’t make things better. And then she comes home at the end of term, happy that you’re on speaking terms again, but I could tell there was still something off. She seemed so hollow. Of course, now I know why. She was planning to send us away. You didn’t put her up to it, did you?”

“No!” Ron said angrily. “I didn’t know anything until she showed up at the Burrow a week earlier than expected, sobbing uncontrollably. She never even told me what she’d planned!” Ron said bitterly. He didn’t mean to, but he was still upset she hadn’t enlisted his help.

“You didn’t know?”

“No. I didn’t understand why she did it. Why she couldn’t have talked to you, and convinced you to go. That maybe modifying your memory wasn’t the only option. She was insistent it was the only way, and that it was done. She’s your daughter, I expect you know how stubborn she can be.”

He actually managed a chuckle out of Mrs. Granger. “That’s an understatement.” It didn’t last long, however. “Why did it have to be you three?”

Ron took a moment to think about her words. “To go on the hunt? It didn’t. Technically, it only had to be Harry, but Hermione and I, we talked about years ago. After what happened with the stone, we knew wherever he went, we’d go. He needed us.”

“But you’re teenagers! What could you have possibly done that adults couldn’t?”

Ron couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. “You sound like my Mum. I know it’s hard to understand, but it had to be Harry. And without Hermione’s booksmarts and ability to gather knowledge, and my understanding of the Magical world, Harry would have been dead long before he even stood a chance. In retrospect, I see that now. Hermione really did what she thought was best to keep you safe. They would have found you and killed you to spite her. She couldn’t bear it. I know how dangerous it was. I lost one of my brothers in the final battle.”

Mrs. Granger took in his words, and knew he was sincere. “I’m sorry, Ron.” She was quiet for a few paces before she continued. “You were supposed to keep her safe. She trusts you to a fault, and I saw that even after you broke her heart. She let you in again, and then you left her.”

“Mrs. Granger, it took me being poisoned in sixth year for us to make up. I know I made a huge mistake in dating Lavender, and it was all over a stupid fight with my sister, and a misunderstanding with Hermione. It blew out of proportion because I let my anger get the best of me, and if I could go back and change it I would.

“As for leaving her on the hunt, I’ll never forgive myself for that. The object we’d collected from the Ministry was evil. I know it may be hard to believe, but it spoke to me. It fed off my insecurities, and told me she and Harry were better off without me. That she desired Harry more than me. I was wearing it when Harry and I got in a row. I wanted to come back as soon as I left. I never stopped trying to get back to them.”

He hoped that she could sense his desperation. That he was telling the truth. When she didn’t respond right away, he felt it pertinent to add, “Hermione doesn’t know about the locket. We haven’t actually talked about its effect on me. She didn’t speak to me for a whole month when I came back. Even then, it took her almost dying for her to forgive me again, I think.”

Ron noticed Jean shudder. “Things weren’t easy, were they?”

“No. She may not tell you this, but we were close to starving some days. There were times when it felt hopeless, but we had each other.”

“Why didn’t she say anything?”

“She doesn’t want you to worry anymore, so it may be best if you keep this between us. You can tell Mr. Granger, too, though if Hermione finds out I told you she may have my head.” Ron smiled.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I appreciate your candid explanations, but you have to understand why I’m wary,” Mrs. Granger attempted to explain.

“I know, but when she almost- when she almost died, I lost myself. I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t take her place. It nearly broke me. It may have taken me longer than I’d like to admit, but I love your daughter, more than anything. And I’ll never stop trying to protect her. I want to make her happy, and I know there are going to be times where I downright piss her off, but that’s what we do. We bicker, we fight, and we make up. I promise I’ll do my best to not hurt her like that ever again.”

They looped back around and walked in silence for a while before Jean finally spoke. “I appreciate everything you’ve told me. I’m sorry for how cold I’ve been, but you have to understand it’s my duty to protect her as best I can.”

“I know.”

“Did she really set canaries on you after you started dating Lavender?”

Ron looked at Mrs. Granger in surprise. “Er, yeah. I’ve got a couple scars on my hands from it. Should’ve known from that, but I was a barmy sixteen year old.”

“I guess perhaps we didn’t teach her quite so well on how to deal with her anger. Has she apologized to you?”

“Er...explicitly?” Ron asked hesitantly.

“I’ll speak to her.” Jean spoke with a finality that Ron didn’t dare question. “You know, it’s supposed to be quite warm the next few days. You two should visit the beach.”

“That’d be nice, but we didn’t exactly pack those sorts of clothes.”

The warm, inviting demeanor he knew from Mrs. Granger had returned. “Don’t worry! I’ll take Hermione out shopping tomorrow. Oh, and there’s a wonderful bistro I think you two would both love. I can get you reservations for tomorrow evening! You can go with Hugo to purchase swim shorts and an outfit for dinner tomorrow. I’ll take Hermione shopping with me.”

Ron couldn’t help but laugh. “Er… may I ask what you’re planning?”

“Now that we’ve cleared the air, and I know your intentions, I’m going to help you sweep my daughter off her feet, of course!”

#romione #hp post war #hp australia #ron x hermione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger

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great-jenna-bake-off · 4 years

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Season 3 Episode 6: Queen of Puddings

I started watching GBBO at least four years ago, and yet I still do not know what a pudding technically is. Sometimes it seems to just be a catchall term for “dessert”. This VOX article claims that “A British pudding is a dish, savory or sweet, that's cooked by being boiled or steamed in something: a dish, a piece of cloth, or even animal intestine,” which is confusing, because I don’t think I did any of that for this week’s bake. (There were certainly no animal intestines involved.) But whatever a pudding is, this week I made the Queen of Puddings, at least as defined by Mary Berry.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/queen_of_puddings_79904

Step one was to grease a ¼ liter shallow ovenproof dish, which I do not have. Off to a great start! In my defense, there is only so much room for baking equipment in my apartment’s kitchen. I dug this dish up from my parents’ house and went with it because it was oval-shaped, like Mary’s example photo, but it definitely doesn’t qualify as “shallow”.

Good enough.

Next up was to make a custard. First, I heated up milk, butter, lemon zest, and sugar in a sauce pan.

Does this count as “boiling or steaming” something?

Then, I carefully poured my warm egg mixture into a bowl with my egg yolks, which I had already separated from the whites. I whisked it together, and a custard was born.

Custard!

To make this custard more substantial, it is poured over a base of bread crumbs. Mary’s recipe specifies “fresh” bread crumbs, but I did not have a bunch of semi-stale bread lying around, so pre-packaged bread crumbs it is.

I told myself after my last bake that I’d stick to the recipe moving forward. Clearly that lesson did not sink in.

Crumbs + custard

I put my dish into a roasting tin, filled the tin with water, and stuck the whole thing in the oven.

At least my dish fits in the tin.

While my custard baked, I turned my attention to the next element of my bake: jam. Mary’s recipe suggests that you can use store-bought jam if you don’t want to make your own, but I have never made jam before and figured it was one of those things that was bound to come up sooner or later. Plus, I knew the bakers would have to do it, and I wanted to stay in the spirit of the competition. So I gave it a shot.

I used a mixture of raspberries, strawberries, and blackberries, since that’s what I had on hand in my freezer, but it seems any “summer fruit” will do.

I had some trouble getting my frozen berries to fully reduce into a cohesive sauce, and after what felt like ages of cooking time, my jam still seemed a bit watery with big chunks of fruit.

I guess this also counts as “boiling something”…

I decided to run my jam through a strainer, which didn’t help my watery-ness issue one bit, but I managed to mash the bigger pieces of fruit against the strainer to make them more sauce-like, and reincorporated it into the strained juice to produce something that could pass for jam, albeit a very runny one.

It’s a pretty color, at least.

Meanwhile, it was time to pull my custard out of the oven. I think I overcooked it slightly, but I had trouble getting the custard to set as much as I felt it should.

I baked the custard for about 35 minutes, instead of the 20-30 specified by the recipe.

While my custard cooled, it was time to make meringue. Luckily, I had some egg whites just sitting around that I had to separate from their yolks for the custard earlier. It’s always nice when a recipe doesn’t waste ingredients. Those egg whites and a bit of sugar quickly became meringue.

Thanks, KitchenAid stand mixer!

Finally, it was time to assemble. First, I put my jam on top of my custard. I vastly overestimated how solid the custard was and dumped a whole bunch of jam right on top, which caused it to mix in a bit with the custard. I quickly realized that it was better to gently spoon the jam on top of the custard.

Hopefully didn’t mess up the layers TOO much.

Next, it was time for meringue. I piped little poofs all over the top of the dish.

I’m actually very proud of my piping on this one.

And with that, the whole thing was ready to go back in the oven to brown the meringue. Not too difficult, all said and done. But would the bakers agree?

Sarah-Jane isn’t feeling too confident heading into the technical, as per usual. “You just have to kind of draw on everything you know about… everything… ever… in the space of five minutes,” she says.

I think Sarah-Jane might be my spirit animal.

Ryan has somehow never made custard or jam before, which leads me to question his GBBO preparation techniques.

Even I’ve made custard before!

Mary explains that the Queen of Puddings is many families’ favorite pudding, which I guess presumes that said families eat a variety of puddings on a regular enough basis to choose a favorite.

I’m really hung up on this whole “pudding” thing, I know.

As the bakers prepare their custards, Mel explains that they shouldn’t bake their custards too long or the surface will crack. I’m now thinking back to my own custard, which definitely had some cracks in the top. Whoops!

I mean it will be covered in jam and meringue… no one will know.

Next, it’s time to move on to the jam, and Brendan seems to be some kind of jam savant, explaining that he’s looking for a soft-set jam. After all, he says, “There are some advantages to being older… you learn the setting point of jam.”

Showoff.

Like me, John has some problems with the jam running into his custard, although his are much worse.

“Mary’s going to slap me in the face,” he moans.

The bakers seem intimidated by the meringue layer, which I find confusing. Meringue just… isn’t that hard?

Here, Danny whips up a second meringue, worried that her first one was too runny.

Finally, all the puddings are in the oven.

Classic GBBO on-the-floor oven-watching pose.

Brendan seems to have gotten a nice golden brown color on the top of his meringue. Will this be the key to a technical challenge win?

Like a perfectly roasted marshmallow.

During the judging, Mary announces that the glass dishes they gave the bakers were part of her evil plan, so she and Paul can see how even the layers are on the puddings.

Feeling grateful for my ceramic dish right about now…

Unfortunately, James has overcooked his custard, which means it came out watery.

Would I fall victim to the same pitfall?

In the end, Brendan’s lifetime of jam knowledge proves useful, and he takes home the win.

It does look like a rather royal pudding.

My pudding was ready to come out of the oven, but would it be fit for a queen? First, here’s Mary’s example pudding…

That’s a very elegant shallow dish.

And here’s mine.

Look at that piping!

The slice admittedly didn’t look too delicious, but there’s a reason Mary’s photo only includes the dish – I just don’t think this one is meant to look pretty on the plate. The show also didn’t really showcase what the bakers’ slices/scoops of pudding looked like. So I’m pretty sure mine is about right. Also, Mary’s recipe said to serve with “pouring cream”, so that’s what the puddle is around the pudding, not melted custard. (The bakers did not seem to do that in the show).

I thought my Queen of Puddings was pretty regal, actually. The meringue had good volume and was nicely crispy, and the jam and custard layers actually held up on the plate. But now it was time to see if my esteemed panel of judges would agree.

***

Matt’s Review: I was actually full from dinner when I dug into this pudding, and I was worried it was going to be too heavy. But as soon as I took my first bite and felt how soft and airy it was, I quickly ate the whole thing. Turned out, that’s a purely mouth-feel thing and I got a horrible stomach ache. But it was worth it. It’s a bread mush with surprisingly complicated flavors—sweetness was potentially the least pronounced one there. The fluffy texture (which I have to assume Jenna nailed) really let you focus on those flavors. It’s a balancing act, and the pudding landed it gracefully. I have no way to fairly judge presentation, but I will add that there’s nothing better than having a Tupperware full of pudding arrive at your door.

Wilson’s Review: Beautiful presentation, clearly defined merengue structure. Some nice peaks, clearly have a steady hand with the piping. But, the color’s a bit light isn’t it? In the future maybe keep it in the oven for a touch longer, or up the heat. Cutting it open you’ve got some nice defined layers, well done. Flavor is good, you can really taste the summer in the jam. The lemon isn’t really coming through, and that’s a key element to balance the sweetness of the jam and the crisp of the meringue – need that acidity. Overall a very good bake, worthy of being served on anyone’s summer table.

***

Final Thoughts: As Matt mentioned, the pudding was delivered to him in the least royal of ways, dumped unceremoniously in a Tupperware and left on his doorstep. So sadly he didn’t get to witness the beauty of my pudding in its original form, and personally, I thought it looked great. I also enjoyed eating it – the meringue was crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, and the custard was smooth and creamy. The jam was definitely a little runnier than a store-bought variety, but I did like it enough to use the leftovers on toast for several breakfasts, so it worked out well enough. And to Wilson’s point, it needed a little more browning on the top of the meringue – perhaps I should have used the broiler at the very end to get that nice golden color. Overall, this was not a particularly tough bake, which was a nice change of pace after trying to get pie dough to defy gravity for the last bake. I still don’t know what a pudding is, but I did enjoy eating it.

#gbbo #great british bake off #Mary Berry #pudding #queen of puddings

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ceruleanmusings · 4 years

Text

Avatar OC snippet - Michi & Jin

Michi had been waiting all day for this moment.

They had a good day, or so her father insisted. He repeated the line with such sincerity she had no choice but to trust him. No choice but to graciously accept his wrapped gift, fingers grazing his rough and work-weathered hands. Hands that she would willingly, lovingly, massage later that night when he finally stopped for the day and gave into the swelling and tightness which grew steady throughout.

He didn’t think she noticed the way he winced when he curled and stretched his fingers, the way he took pause after the hard hitting chisel vibrations shot up his bones. But she noticed. She always noticed, ever since she was a child. Though, she admired, he never complained; merely smiled as he worked and praised her efforts when she grew of age to aid in the family trade.

It came easy for her; one punch to stone or a mere shift of her hands around clay and her masterpieces were finished, bent to reveal the images molded in her mind. But she took her time with her father. Hearing his humming, being next to his unwavering patience was worth the slow pace.

Delicately, she peeled the crinkled paper away from the desert nestled in her palm. Even before she’d revealed the treat, its scent escaped, wafting past her nose, jump starting the tastebuds dotting her tongue and appeasing the growling cries in her stomach.

Michi lifted the custard to her nose, taking in a deep breath, inhaling the delectable scent as her eyes drank in the flaky buttery crust and the perfectly smooth, shiny surface staring back at her. She clicked her heels with glee, a happy shimmy shaking her shoulders.

Yes, the long day, the aching, rounded shoulders, the was all worth it.

Opening wide, Michi lifted the egg tart to her mouth and—

“Michi! Finally you’re back!”

With stomach-swooping dismay, Michi watched—eyes wide, mouth parted in a silent scream of horror—as her beautiful, delectable egg tart flew through the air in a graceful, flipping ark, and landed against the dusty street with a smack.

The arms curled around her stomach unfurled and out the corner of her eye she was aware of the mass of hair and spindly limbs wiggling ungracefully down on the edge of the fountain beside her. The babbling landing of the arcing water may as well have been the tears of despair that fell deep within her. So close!

“Oh, did I do that?” Jin’s uttered question came with a curled smile and a shrug of her shoulders in her patened what can you do? way. Michi figured she could go back in time greet her like a normal person and less like a goat gorilla, it would be the least she could do. “Oops.”

Oops!? That’s all she had to say? Michi turned her bewildered, wide eyed stare to Jin who waved her hand. “Relax, we can get you another one.”

Perhaps she could but that wasn’t the point. Her father had worked hard to earn the special treat.

Michi closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and let it out slow; it was inaudible beneath the quacking of the turtle ducks and the excited screeches of the children feeding them.

“So, how was it today?” Jin asked, reaching forward to tug on the end of Michi’s unbraided pigtail. Making a face, Michi lifted her hand and waved it side to side. “Uh oh, that’s not good. Was something wrong? I saw the teapots you made last night. They were so beautiful!”

If she weren’t so used to Jin’s particular fondness of whiplash conversations, Michi would find herself on shaky ground. As it were, she knew how to ride out those rough waves.

And, admittedly, Michi had to agree. They were some of her best creations yet. A quick wave of her hand and she bended a set of teapots that she wasn’t even sure she wanted to sell. They were just so...perfect. The smooth curve of the spout, the hearty rounded body, the curl to the arm. Even she was a little loathe to sell them but they sold well. Not nearly as good as the vases they managed to scrounge up weeks before but she was still proud.

But, to Jin’s question, she gave her head a shake.

“Well, that’s good to hear then! Was it something else?” She placed a pointed finger to her chin as her eyes drifted upwards. Michi could almost see a bubble appearing over her head as she spoke aloud. “Hmm. I assume the location wasn’t all that bad. And if there were any troubles with haggling you would have said so. Ah!” Removing her finger from her chin, she held it in the air and a big grin appeared on her face. “It was the people, wasn’t it. A specific person?” Reaching over, she poked Michi in the ribs.

A grumble sounded in Michi’s throat as she wiggled away, turning her burning cheeks from Jin’s piercing gaze.

“Was it Jet? Did Jet stop by your table again?” Jin continued, ignoring the distinct curve to Michi’s body to poke her in the side again.

Jet. Even his name brought a newly unwelcome wave of...something crashing through her. Her nose wrinkled and she brought her shoulders up in an effort to cover the red dusting her cheeks.

It was Jet of all people. She’d known him for...who knows how long. It was almost as if he was always around, somewhere in the background. Which, in fact, he was. Since they were little, he tended to pop up around her somewhere. Always with that charming grin, always with that air of confidence that seemed to buoy his sure steps, always with that stupid piece of wheat in the corner of his mouth. Always with a compliment for her waiting at the tip of his tongue.

“He did, didn’t he? Oh, that’s so romantic!”

Huffing, Michi rolled her eyes. Everything was romantic to Jin. She could find romance in the middle of the desert if her life depended on it.

Lifting her hands, she moved them as emphatically as the thought came to her mind: Don’t even think about it. He doesn’t seem to understand that I have work to do.

Jin shrugged. She leaned back, her fingers gripping the edge of the fountain as she kicked her legs ahead of her. “There’s nothing wrong with breaking up the monotony, right?”

Squinting, Michi peered at the curve to Jin’s lips, the sparkle in her eye, the quiet but very distinct thrumming that came off her in waves. Almost as if she were a plucked string, vibrating at her own frequency. Michi felt it beneath her fingers.

She tilted her head to the side, one ponytail dipping further on her shoulder than the other. A quirk to her brow made Jin’s smile widen. “Want to get some tea at Pao’s?” Michi’s eyebrow rose higher and her head tilted forward slightly. It wasn’t until Michi pressed her lips together that Jin relented. “Fine, fine! There’s a new guy working at the shop!”

Michi tilted her head back, lips parting. That explains it.

“Oh, stop it,” Jin admonished, following it up by sticking out her tongue. It was Michi’s turn to flash a grin at her. “He’s really cute. You should have been the way he smiled at me!”

Michi almost pointed out that he was probably being paid to smile at her but she kept her mouth shut. This was...welcomed. Her excitement. It was better than the ruminating hurt that bounced off her after the whole Shun incident. Her smile was unwavering but her wavelengths told a different story.

“There’s just...something about him.” It was Michi’s turn to poke Jin in the ribs, nailing her with a look. I’ve heard that before. Jin brushed a braided pigtail off her shoulder. “I know, I know. But this is different! I can feel it.”

Feel it... Michi turned Jin’s words over in her mind. Perhaps Jin meant it in a figureative sense but...Michi could feel anything that came off this guy. If he was being deceitful or sincere. And maybe, this time, she could put herself in the right place to catch Jin just in case she fell. What kind of friend would she be if she constantly let her fall to her knees? They’ve been getting a bit too bruised lately.

Mich lifted her hands again: Tea sounds nice.

She’d barely finished signing her sentence when Jin let out an excited squeal, looped her arm with hers, and yanked her to her feet. “Great, let’s go!” And she charged forward, pulling a stumbling Michi behind her, who was careful not to step in the forgotten egg tart on the ground. Jin cast a look at it on the ground and leaned into Michi’s side as they walked. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for the next one. Promise.” She gave Michi’s arm a squeeze.

That promise didn’t come easy, Michi knew. Jin being able to afford an extra expense meant longer days out in the fields, backbreaking work beneath the harsh sun. Michi would refuse it when the time came, of course, but she appreciated the gesture all the same.

#welp. as usual i went overboard but i'm not mad about this #please let me know what you think!#also if i didn't make it super clear michi is mute #avatar oc #atla oc #michi #my writings

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steveusesfaberge · 5 years

Text

Better Parent (pt. i)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: Steve’s approached by the Henderson duo while at work, and can’t help but lose himself in Y/N’s essence. He’s also extremely offended by her notion of claiming she’s the better party parent than himself...do they realize they’re simply an old married couple in the works? Nope.

Type/Style: Imagine, female pronouns

Warning(s): Fluff~, Clumsy Steve heeds all warnings... Oh, and a bit of cursing! >.<

Word Count: 3k

a/n: This is my first published Imagine of Stranger Things! I hope you all enjoy! Please send requests! I’m excited to write for you all! <3

Part 1 (you are here) - Part 2 - Part 3

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!-- The obnoxious noise of Scoops Ahoy’s service bell sounded off; resulting in the employees’ groaning in irritation. At the moment, Steve was sitting in the small backroom, playing a game of cards with Robin. The said girl peeked out the somewhat cracked sliding shutters and gave a wicked grin in her brunette friend’s direction. Steve raised an eyebrow as he placed his cards face-down on the table (knowing fully that if given the chance, the sneaky co-worker would cheat).

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” He asked with a creeping suspicion. He stretched in his chair, not having the motivation to attend to the customer with the speedy service they were demanding. Robin rolled her eyes. “If you weren’t in here, squatting on your ass - and actually doing your job - you’d realize who our fine customer in waiting is.” At that, Harrington leaned over to see for himself who this ‘fine customer’ indeed was, and when his eyes found his target - Steve practically fell out of his seat. “Y-You--It’s--I’m--wha--,” He was cut off as Robin pulled him to his feet by his shoulders. “Listen, dingus. If you stay here blubbering about it, she’s gonna think you’re irresponsible and can’t hold a job. Can’t have that now, can we?” Steve glared at her for the obvious usage of sarcasm and tease. “Now go,” Robin prodded,” It’s your turn anyway. You owe me from yesterday - leaving me to deal with Ms. Free Samples for an hour.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she shook her head giving him one final shove towards the doorway,” Yeah, yeah, you look great...no one pulls that uniform off like you do,” he didn’t appreciate her banter.

With that, Steve managed to pull himself out of the backroom - his hands nervously tampering with his (ridiculous) outfit; making sure he looked somewhat presentable. Normally, Steve was an ace at socializing - flirting was his forte and there was no denying it. But ever since he graduated...it seemed his high school charm had faded...turning into this...awkward...babysitter of six, ice cream scooping, monster fighting (total badass if you asked Steve), clumsy persona. Not exactly his ideal image of grabbing himself a date.

It was like, his whole game had been thrown off - and he’d complained to the kids more than enough when they ridiculed him for still not having a girlfriend. “Hey! I used to be a chick magnet! -- I-I still am!” “Yeah, yeah - make fun of me! It’s ‘cause of this dumb hat! My hair! -- The hat’s a cockblocker!” Despite his weak attempts at excusing himself; the party always seemed skeptical. Ugh...

“Ahoy, losers! Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? -- I’ll be your Captain...what’s up Hendersons?” He greeted in traditional Scoops Ahoy fashion. Dustin always thought it was stupid, but Steve did it nonetheless - as he learned it always earned a giggle from the older Henderson.

“Hey, Steve, we’re just here for our usuals. Dusty’s gonna go hang out with the rest of the crew after this.” His attention was pulled to the girl before him. Simple (y/h/c) hair, (y/e/c) eyes, and a (y/s/t) complexion. Yet, he’d never wanted to run his fingers through someone’s hair so much...and had never wanted to simply stare into someone’s eyes for so long...or touch someone’s perfect, smooth skin--

“Helllllooo? Steve? Earth to Harrington? Did you hear me?” The brunette was snapped from his daze and he winced at the call to attention. “Um, yeah, um, yeah...um..........w-what?” His face heated up as he moved to scratch his neck, his hands then clumsily trying to hold himself up against the counter in the coolest pose he could muster in his flustered state. Dustin groaned, rubbing his eyes as he’d have to re-explain himself, but Steve was only concerned with the beautiful melody of a laugh falling from Y/N’s lips.

“You’re such a dork, Harrington,” she snorted while shaking her head, a hand placed to Dustin’s shoulder. Steve could only offer her a sheepish grin.

“He said, the gang was going to Wheelers’ house after this - and Dusty was asking if you could help me take all the kids there,” she rolled her eyes,” They’re too lazy to ride their bikes back, so we’d have to split them up in our cars.” Dustin pursed his lips, hands crossed over his chest as if saying ‘duh. You’d know that if you’d listened the first time, dumbass’.

“Uh, y-yeah, yeah. S-sure. I’m-m, uh, not doing anything after my shift. So, I’ll take them, yeah.” Dustin couldn’t help but cringe at Steve’s attempt at casualty. Either way, it seemed his sister didn’t even notice.

“Sweet! Glad to have you on board, Captain Steve.” She mused.

“The pleasure’s mine, Missy.” He’d managed the sentence without a hiccup and he was silently thanking his lucky stars. The small smile on her lips had sent him into an overdrive of ecstasy.

“Well anyway - I’d hate to be...that person...but can you get the ice cream now, Steve? I told Lucas I’d be with them...like...seven minutes ago.” Dustin interrupted with a raised eyebrow.

Steve glanced back to the curly-haired kid and nodded while rolling his eyes. “I’m so sorry, good sir. Let me get your dessert ready, heaven forbid those dipshits to wait another second!” Dramatically, he pulled a hand to his head and fluttered his eyelids closed for emphasis. Y/N shook her head, laughing to herself as she pulled the money from her pocket in preparation.

Dustin only groaned in annoyance and made a face at the young man.

Within the next few minutes, Steve had both of their orders made - he didn’t need to be reminded of the order themselves, as both were known by heart. “A banana split, with extra hot fudge, whipped cream, one scoop chocolate, two scoops vanilla, no caramel or peanuts - and yes, the chocolate scoop is bigger than the vanilla,” he placed it down in front of the pair and he saw the surprise on Y/N’s face and he caught the narrow-eyed glance Dustin threw him, as he recited the order perfectly...almost. “Oh, what about the--,” “Side order of chocolate chips? To, y’know, sprinkle on yourself?” His hand came up to do the motion of ‘sprinkling’; then adding a crooked smile the order was complete.

“And a regular sundae for my man,” he slid the other half of the purchase over while Y/N was still trying to overcome her shock.

“How...did you remember all that?” She asked while quirking an eyebrow.

Since the conversation began, Steve had slowly gained some of his cool and confidence. At least he was able to keep his words from tumbling over one another like a race to the finish line...

He shrugged. “I figured I’d remember it since it’s so complicated. Besides, you come in here like...every day, every other day...if I didn’t remember it, I’d be stupid.” She only grinned.

“If you didn’t know it by now, I’d think you were stupid too. How long have we been friends, Harrington? Two...three years?” Y/N questioned while holding out the exact amount of money to pay for the said ice cream.

“Have fun, lovebirds - I’m gonna find the others,” Dustin grumbled, excusing himself from what he thought, was an awkward conversing between sibling and best friend/idol.

Steve and Y/N only blushed at the notion of lovebirds, looking away from one another in the process. “That’ll be five-forty-seven, right?” Y/N said, clearing her throat. “Normally, yeah. But this one’s on the house.” Steve replied with a soft smile.

“You sure?” Y/N questioned, money still hanging in the air, her words slow.

“Yup,” he popped the ‘p’ and gave a nod to reassure her.

“Since when was Steve Harrington so nice?” She asked while giving him a fake dubious glance. Moving to stand to the side of the counter, in case someone else came in to be served.

Steve lifted a hand to his chin, as if in thought, and then leaned his arms on the counter’s surface. “I dunno...since, maybe...he realized he needed to be?”

He knew he hadn’t always been the best...erm...person. Steve was well aware of how much of an ass he’d been in the day, and so for him to give her such an answer - it was probably more sincere than she was expecting. Which was why he felt the need to have been nicer sooner; as the small lift of her lips had his knees go weak.

He watched as Y/N placed the spoonful of custard in her mouth, the short silence between them not uncomfortable in the slightest. They spent plenty of time together - from chaperoning the children to hanging out one-on-one, and even fighting off Upside Down nightmares together... If anything, Steve shouldn’t have an issue with talking to her at all. Yet, he did...because...well...who wouldn’t be a hot mess in front of someone so heart-stoppingly gorgeous in every aspect?

“Hm. I think the children are making you soft, Stevie,” she concluded while chuckling. Now seating herself on the countertop, turning her body to face his. He had to swallow the heat rising up because she looked breathtaking... Like a queen sat on a throne. Steve being just a commoner; the privilege of seeing such royalty before him...of course he’d be speechless.

“W-What? Soft! I’m not soft! Those dipshits just need a good role model, you know?” Y/N raised an eyebrow at him; his defensive state only proving her point. ”Besides,” he added,” I have to be responsible and nice...with you as the other role model, one of us has to be a good influence.”

“Pfft, as if! You’re the one who has the issues, Mr. I take an hour to do my hair,” Y/N scoffed while shaking her head.

“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t bash me,” Steve replied while moving to wipe down the countertop. “You gotta make sure you look the part too, Y/N.”

He glanced at her for a few seconds and then noted,” And it’s an hour and a half. For your information, dork.” It only caused her to sputter a laugh, trying to hold still so her sundae wouldn’t fall.

The conversation carried on, finally losing the playful heat and turning to their usual ‘talk about everything and anything, we have nothing else to do while we wait for the children’. Steve always loved these moments...their conversations always made his day - because just talking to her about why her neighbors were the reason she didn’t sleep at night....was enough for Steve.

During that time, Robin made her appearance and for a good few minutes, she’d stolen Y/N’s attention completely. To which, Steve only pouted and had a silent conversation with Robin about, through eye-contact.

What’re you doing? What is there a problem? Yes! This is supposed to be me, trying to woe her! You’re doing a wonderful job! Oh, shove one up it - will you? I’m trying!

“Wait - Steve, you tried to get Jenny Calif? Like...plastic Jenny Calif?” Y/N snickered as Robin re-enacted last week’s shenanigans of Harrington trying to score a date. He only flushed red.

“I...mean...it didn’t look like that.” He defended meekly. Gesturing to Robin standing a few feet away while trying to hold her imitation of him.

“So what? - Jenny Plastic Calif? I knew you were...like...desperate...but...I didn’t think you were...King Steve level desperate.” Y/N scoffed, a tease to her haunting words. Steve was taken back, they both promised to never bring up his...asshole phase...

He didn’t recognize her slightly insulting words for jealousy though, more so as disbelief and shock. Robin saw this though and tried to act on it.

“I know, right? This dingus was all like ‘Oh Jenny, haven’t seen you in a while...lookin’ good,’ and I was sitting in the back trying to drown out my agony.” Robin watched Y/N curiously and could make out the slender twitch of her lips. It seemed she was just as annoyed as anyone should be...when their (practical) boyfriend was making moves on another woman.

“Tsk,” Y/N sounded while pushing her empty dish to the side. The spoon still hanging out of her mouth, she moved over, booping Harrington’s nose. “You know better than that, Steves...you shouldn’t try and...cross species.”

Steve couldn't help the quirk of a smile. “Why’re you being so...ruthless...Y/N?” He whined while frowning. She shrugged. “Desperation is only cured by reality and truth.” Harrington groaned and gave her a gentle shove.

The duo continued their shift, accompanied by Y/N to entertain them through the process of work and waiting around. Steve was glad she was there to keep them company...if he were alone with Robin...Good Lord, all she’d do was drill it into him how oblivious he is, and how bad he is at getting your attention... By the time calling it quits rolled around, Robin was already on her way out.

“See ya tomorrow, dingus! Bye Y/N/N!” She called while waving. Leaving out the back door.

Y/N turned to Steve and he was just finishing closing the lids of ice cream, leaving every set up for whoever was to work the next shift. “What?” He urged, catching her stare. She only walked to the cash register and patted the free space beside it.

“No tip jar?” Steve only shrugged and pulled his hat off, running his fingers through his hair.

“I guess we didn’t think about it. Could get one starting week, I suppose.” He figured he could draw in some customers with luck...I mean, his good looks...right? Though some luck he had...it was like Steve The Hair Harrington fell off the face of the earth...

Y/N nodded and then said,” I’d leave a tip every time - just for your sorry ass.” Steve rolled his eyes as she continued,” I mean...Scoops’ gonna need more than a few bucks to hire a better sailor boy than you, right?”

“O-uch,” Steve retorted while holding his chest in ‘pain’. “You’re so mean...God, no wonder Dustin wishes I was his brother...Maybe he’s saving up for a new sibling.”

“Pfft, shut up, Harrington. Try all you want - the kids love me more, despite what you tell yourself before your bedtime.” Y/N explained while jutting a hip out. To which, Steve bumped purposefully as he walked from behind the counter. Only drawing that, oh-so-sweet grin from her...God, he was addicted to it.

“Yeah, right. That’s why they come to me when they need something,” he pointed out while the pair began walking towards the food court - where the kids said they’d meet them after Steve’s shift ended.

Standing so close to Y/N, Steve found his heart racing faster than what was good for him. Yet, her presence washed a calming sense...ironic really. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be six miles away from her...or six inches away. Either way, he wouldn’t be happy...

“They come to you because you give them everything they ask for,” Y/N laughed while expressing herself with a twirling hand-gesture.

“You’re just jealous.” He decided.

“And you’re just a gullible, delusional dork who gives our children whatever they want.” Y/N countered.

The only thing that Steve processed though was our children. Was this a sign? Did she mean that she wanted kids with him? With having a child that meant having a relationship with him...right? Like he’d be their father, and Y/N would have to be their mother...to make them...their children...well, he supposed they could always adopt--

“Steve? Helloooo? Goddamnit, he’s doing that thing again!” Dustin groaned. Steve hadn’t even realized they’d made it to where the party was and everyone was staring at him; as he stared at Y/N.

“Y/N/N what did you do to him?” Dusty accused while pointing a finger at her.

“Me? This idiot just stopped responding!” Y/N told while throwing her hands in Harrington’s direction.

“He’s probably just upset I’m the better parent.”

“Here they go again,” Steve caught the teasing mutter from Lucas to Mike and the exchange of a head nod between the gang.

He felt flustered and finally found his voice again. “You!? Wait - what? Since when! I drive them everywhere, I get them free ice cream, free-range in walking around backstage of the mall--,” He ranted off all the things he did and had ever done, for them and it only had Y/N smirking the kids laughing.

“See? What’d I say, guys? Gull-i-ble.” she articulated, speaking slowly as if to a child as she poked Steve’s chest.

“Yeah...Y/N’s right, Steve. You’re just easier to convince.” Max noted with a snort, she could see it a mile away...the way they argued like a married couple...

“I mean...you’re kinda soft for a guy who was once King of High School,” Lucas chipped in while shrugging.

“I think you’re just stup--,” Dustin was cut off as Steve grabbed his shoulders, pushing the curly-haired Henderson to the nearest exit.

“Alright, dickheads. If you don’t wanna ride your damn bikes home - shut your mouths and get going.” He grumbled.

“Moody, sarcastic shit,” Y/N whispered to El and Max who only nodded hiding their amusement with their hands. The three girls walked behind the comical duo - Dustin struggling to get Steve’s hands off him, and Steve struggling to keep Dustin moving forward.

“I can’t tell which is worse,” Mike started while walking with Lucas and Will.

“What? The way Dustin doesn’t seem to realize Steve trying to get with his sister?” Will asked while shaking his head.

“Or how Harrington and Henderson can’t seem to realize they like each other?” Lucas added in a slow tone.

“Like I said,” Mike snickered,” I can’t tell which is worse.”

---------

How does part two sound? I think so! >.<

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x henderson reader #stranger things imagine

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jeongyunhoed · 4 years

Text

Just One Afternoon

Wooyoung/OC

I felt the “Just One” oneshots needed a third for some reason. Anyway, if you enjoyed Just One Night and Just One Day, here’s the third and last part set two more years later. As per usual, this is one looooooong conversation. Enjoy.

Wooyoung was standing in front of a full-length mirror, checking and double-checking his tuxedo in case there were creases that needed to be smoothed out. There he was, in a swanky waiting area in a hotel, the rest of his things in the corner, all ready for him to pick up once he left the place. He noticed some bits of confetti and rice still in his hair and he smiled to himself as he patted it out, the grains and the tiny pieces of paper falling off and onto the carpeted floor, reminding him once again of the biggest moment in his life that only occurred a few hours ago. The reminder of that moment made him look down on the gold band that was on his ring finger of his left hand.

After 4 years of dating and several months of getting engaged, Wooyoung and Jea got married. It was a very small ceremony, only filled with the people they held dear: Immediate family and their closest friends. Some tears of happiness were shed as the two of them said their vows, promising to stick together through thick and thin, no matter how many fights they’ve had (and they’ve had a lot), and no matter what kind of challenges await them. Everyone else were also left teary-eyed at their vows, but swooned at the giggly kisses they shared once they were declared husband and wife.

“Are you ready?” He called out to her.

“Yes!” Jea appeared, in a shorter version of her dress this time with the bits of her wedding gown carefully stored back into the box it came in. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, the party’s over, everyone’s headed for home, but we’re staying here, aren’t we?” Wooyoung was beaming as he approached her.

Jea was smiling just as wide. “Yeah,” She wrapped her arms around him. “It’s just us left, but I don’t feel like going upstairs yet”

“Why not?” He kissed her cheek.

“I don’t know, I guess I just want to savor being down here, somehow I have this feeling that once we step out of his ballroom, it’ll all be different again,” She shrugged.

“It’s a good kind of different” He pressed his lips onto her forehead. “There’s also the honeymoon, and the rest of this weekend to ourselves” He mumbled against her skin. “Not leaving the suite until we need to check out?” She could feel him smirk.

“Or maybe walk along the poolside and just spend time together, like how we always do? Or whenever you get back from work at the studio?” Jea suggested, leaning up to kiss him. Wooyoung ultimately decided to leave his crew and teach dance at the studio they frequented instead. He had his worries about whether or not he would enjoy it, but he was pleasantly surprised after the first few days, realizing how he felt the same happiness being able to teach other people and kids as when he was dancing with his crew, and dare he even admit it, maybe even happier. It might have been because he knew he got to come home to Jea everyday, or getting to dance for hours without having to leave or even push himself further to worsen his injury.

“That too, you want to go for a walk? We should have the bellhop bring our bags upstairs” He said, and she nodded, the two of them linked together as they left the room.

“Was I a nightmare for a bride-to-be?” Jea suddenly asked him as they were by the pool that afternoon. The orange and yellow glow from the sun in the horizon cast an orange tint over the place “I wasn’t, right? Or was I?”

“You were a nightmare because you didn’t like the wedding topper I picked out” Wooyoung teased. “And you made me cancel a few classes because of wine tastings and food and the cake, and I usually enjoy all of those!” He chuckled.

“The wedding topper you picked had the bride and groom dancing, when they could’ve just stood still, it’s more timeless that way” Jea argued, laughing as well upon remembering. “Don’t you want our kids to have that topper when they get married?”

“Of course I would, but that makes it a fun wedding cake topper, if they just stood still, it’s too ordinary” Wooyoung squeezed her hand as they sat down on the chairs.

“Your mom talked to me before the wedding,” Jea smiled. “She wished me good luck because I now have to deal with you forever”

Wooyoung laughed out loud. “She did? Ah, my mom, she’s the best.”

“Your dad said the same thing to me as well” Jea added with a laugh.

It made him laugh even more. “Ah, my parents are the best. Remember how nervous you were when I finally brought you to them? You were dreading having to meet them but then when we all met, I didn’t want to say I told you so, but I told you so” Wooyoung teased. “I mean, I guess it’s because my older brother already got married that they’re a lot more relaxed when it comes to me and my younger brother.”

“You were just as fidgety when I had to introduce you to my parents!” Jea playfully slapped his arm. “You had this awkward smile that I can’t believe I saw” She shook her head. “They wondered if you were okay or if you liked the food or if you were just trying to be nice” She laughed.

“Your dad is a good cook! I really liked the food! As long as it’s edible, it’s good enough for me” Wooyoung tried to poke her side in an attempt to tickle her. “Now I know where you got your looks from, though” A grin spread across his face.

“I hope you mean that as a good thing” Jea raised a brow at him, making him chuckle and try to poke her side again.

“Of course I meant it in a good way, didn’t I tell you that you’ll always be the pretty girl I met on the train? Did you not listen to my vows earlier?” He teased, pretending to be hurt.

“Of course I heard you! It wasn’t like I was crying because I got hungry or something” Jea gave him a look, shaking her head. Her expression softened, and she took a moment to study his face again, from the mole under his eye, to the crinkles in his eyes when he smiled or laughed, and the way his lips curved whenever he smiled. It was a face she always looked forward to seeing every morning, afternoon, and night. She looked down at their hands and the rings on their fingers, promising that they would be together forever, with that promise made permanent. “I love you” She said softly.

Wooyoung felt the same way when he looked back at her. “I love you too. Let’s go to the cafe, some coffee would be nice” He said, tugging on her arm as he stood up.

Some of the servers and staff inside the hotel cafe looked at them fondly as they stepped inside the plush interior, sitting down at a corner seat. They didn’t care where they were seated, yet the staff pointed them towards the plush couch near the window that had a view of the city. The server for one, asked them if they got married and they said yes, and they offered to let them look through a selection of wine or liquor that went perfectly with the cake they were having.

“Do you think we’ll become those annoying couples that get lovey-dovey even if we’re with friends?” Jea suddenly asked, putting the menu down.

“We kind of are, but we haven’t been out with friends that much anyway, at least out with friends together” Wooyoung replied. “Do you think we’ll be like that?”

“I have a feeling we will,” Jea teased. “But I guess its a good thing we haven’t gone out with friends together. I wouldn’t want to annoy people, and I already annoy you.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, and I better be the only one who gets annoyed with you” He teased back.

“That’s an odd threat, Mr. Jung” She grinned.

“It’s a mutual threat, Mrs. Jung. We better be the only people that annoy each other.”

“Deal,” Jea held out her hand and he shook it, sticking his pinky out next, which she linked with hers. She watched him look back at the menu for the dessert he wanted to try. “I’ve always wanted to travel around a faraway place by train.”

“No you don’t, you just want to solve a murder that happens on that train” Wooyoung teased.

“That too. Plot twist, everyone did it, they all hated him, they all had a grudge against him somehow” Jea chuckled.

“You’d be a suspect too” He put down the menu and reached out for her hand to hold, lacing their fingers together.

“I wouldn’t, I’d be the one solving the murder,” She shook her head.

“You’d be a suspect of stealing my heart, that is” He winked, making her cringe. “You’d be the detective solving the murder, while I’m your charming, handsome, and ridiculously hot husband who’s helping you by trying to blend in and observe everyone else while you’re asking questions”

Jea snorted. “I don’t know, but would everyone on that train think you’re ridiculously hot, though?” She teased.

“Of course they would! Why wouldn’t they when I look like this?” He pushed his hair back and tried to do a sexy pose. Jea nearly cackled in her seat.

“Your confidence is something else, but I love you for it” She grinned, sitting back when the server returned with their drinks and her dessert, a creme brulee. Jea handed him another spoon. “Crack the sugar with me.”

A giggle escaped his lips as he took the other spoon, the two of them cracking into the caramelized dessert and dipping their spoons into the custard underneath.

Night had fallen, and they paid and left the cafe, walking down the hall and to the direction of the elevators. “Will you be able to put up with me for years to come?” Wooyoung asked.

“Mhmm” Jea nodded.

“Even if I get carried away while playing games?” He grinned.

“Yeah, even then, even if I have to put on earplugs whenever I’m asleep and you’re yelling at your computer monitor” Jea squeezed his hand.

“Good. Just trying to make sure” He teased as they stopped and pressed the elevator button.

“Will you be able to put up with me for years to come? Even if I get cranky in the morning and all of those things you get annoyed at me for?” Jea turned the question back to him.

Wooyoung turned to her with the biggest smile on his face and kissed her. “I look forward to it.”

#ateez #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #jeong wooyoung #welp i got carried away #sort of kind of

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ayla-221bee · 4 years

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The Five Times Greg made Breakfast- 4- Bacon Sandwhiches

Chapter one: https://hogwartsjaguar97.tumblr.com/post/623567298016559104/the-five-times-greg-made-breakfast-chapter-one

Chapter two:https://hogwartsjaguar97.tumblr.com/post/623832401503813632/the-five-times-greg-made-breakfast-chapter-2

Chapter three:https://hogwartsjaguar97.tumblr.com/post/624455442232377344/the-five-times-greg-made-breakfast-chapter-3

Mycroft tried his best not to groan at the large pile of files that Anthea had placed on his desk. He was in a foul mood after having to endure an incredibly droll meeting with the Prime Minister, that took three hours to resolve a matter that should have been done in ten minutes. His temper had grown even worse after attempting to deal with Brexit negotiations in a four-hour conference.

He had been in a rather foul mood ever since he had been called to work that morning. He had been in the middle of having breakfast, the most delightful French toast that Greg had made for him and brought to his bed before he had been so rudly interrupted on his weekend. He had made it perfectly clear that he was not to be bothered on weekends, especially on a Sunday.

He had grown ever so fond of weekends recently.

Greg had been thankfully understanding about the matter and his work schedule. It was not the first time that he had been called into the office during the weekend or during a quiet evening in with Greg and it would not be the last. Greg had been occasionally called into work in the middle off the night or when they were out for dinner. The two of them had to cancel plans with another due to work several times in the course of their relationship. It was rather refreshing to be with someone who understood the nature of his work, it had caused a lot of disagreements with people in the past.

After successfully dealing with the situation and helping to prevent potential world war and economic crisis, Mycroft found himself rewarded with an evergrowing mountain of paperwork on his desk that Anthea kept adding to.

Mycroft smiled politely to Anthea as she placed the files on his desk with an apologetic look on her face. He thanked her quietly and allowed her to go home, he did not allow himself to be rude despite his mood, it was ungentlemanlike.

With a heavy sigh, Mycroft started to make his way through the paperwork that was on his desk. He glanced at the clock when he had noticed that it was two in the morning and pinched the sides of his nose once he had realised that he had made little progress with his paperwork. It felt like an age since he was in bed with Greg and they were having breakfast together.

Mycroft missed him dearly. It almost felt painful with how much he wished to be home and in bed with Greg again.

Mycroft had never experienced that feeling before. For a long moment, he wondered if the feeling he experienced was indigestion. He wondered if it symptom a heart attack from the way that the feeling that it gripped around his heart in a vice-like a manner. He had never experienced it before and it concerned him greatly.

He tried to ignore the feeling that settled in his chest and forced himself to work on the mountain of paperwork. The quicker that he worked through it, the sooner that he would be at home and he could be back in his bed with Greg again.

He smiled with each text that Greg had sent him, even if some of them had poor grammar and smiley faces. He did not care much for them but found it endearing that Greg used them.

At six in the morning, Mycroft had managed to work onto the last few piles of paperwork on his desk. The suit jacket and his tie had been discarded long ago and he had broken out the emergency custard creams that he kept in the desk drawer.

There was a knock on his wooden office door and before he could even allow himself to summon the person in, they had let themselves into his office. The knock seemed only to be done out of habit and just to rouse his attention from the piles of paperwork.

He knew immediately it was Greg and Mycroft allowed himself to smile once the realisation had washed over him.

Greg walked over to his desk and placed a kiss on his forehead and a large takeaway coffee next to his laptop.

Greg made himself comfortable on the plush chair that Mycroft had put in the office for him. He had complained that the old chair was far too uncomfortable for his liking and Mycroft purchased a brand new chair the next morning. Mycroft often felt a twinge of embarrassment when he had looked upon the chair, he had done this gesture for Greg before they were barely friends, he had been smitten with the Detective Inspector for longer than he would care to admit.

“The emergency biscuits are out,” Greg commented, “Must be a difficult time you are having.”

Mycroft sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Brexit,” he said simply.

Greg nodded in understanding and sighed. “No wonder you’ve been working all day and night,” said Greg. “Did you manage to eat something that was more than tea and custard creams? You hardly got to eat any of the French toast I made before you were out of the door.”

Mycroft did not say anything for a long moment, he believed that Anthea may have dropped off a sandwich around lunchtime the day before. He hardly had time to eat any of it and he did not eat much during lunch meetings, he usually ended up having to speak when he had a mouthful of food in his mouth and never wanted to have the embarrassment of getting spinach between his teeth. He picked up a pile of files that were on top of a very squashed sandwich.

“The answer is no then,” Greg said with a low whistle. “How much work do you have to do before your done? You are going to bed and getting food in you the moment that you are going home.”

Mycroft opened his mouth to protest and promptly closed it again, he knew that there was little point in arguing and going home sounded like the most delightful prospect. “Could you make me a bacon sandwich once we get home?”

Greg looked at him as if he had been replaced by a cyborg lookalike. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked. “You never agree to go home without protesting and you’ve definitely never asked me for a bacon sandwich before. I thought that you were meant to be on a health kick again. “

“I was until the emergency biscuits were brought out,” Mycroft grumbled. “I cannot resist anything that you make.”

Mycroft closed his desk and gathered up the pile of paperwork that he was working on before. He wanted nothing more than to be home, he briefly considered starting to slow down a bit with his job, or at least have a few more days when he was not in the office. He had always thought the motion was ridiculous but things had changed in his life. He was utterly positive that Anthea would be a suitable replacement when the time arrived.

“You are going straight to bed when you get in,” Greg said, handing him his jacket. “You can have your bacon sandwich in bed and then you are going to sleep.”

Mycroft smiled at the notion as he slipped on his coat, nothing sounded more wonderful at the moment. He was not as young as he used to be and he had started to enjoy the notion of having a life outside the office recently.

“Nothing sounds more perfect,” Mycroft said with a small smile.

Greg picked up his briefcase and slung the laptop bag around his shoulder and started to guide him out of the office door. “I am not sure how you are going to cope once my flat is sorted,” he said. “I am not sure who is going to feed and look after you.”

“You can just stay somewhat permanently,” Mycroft said without a moment of hesitation, hardly registering the words that he said.

There was a surprised expression on Greg’s face. He opened up his mouth and closed it again, a rather fine impersonation of a goldfish if Mycroft had to be perfectly honest. “Are you saying what I think you are saying?” he asked.

Mycroft swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “If that is...alright with you?”

“Are you sure that you aren’t just delirious from the lack of sleep?”

Mycroft thought for a long moment, a part of him was fairly certain that it was partly due to exhaustion, but it sounded like a rather marvellous idea the more he thought about it. He did have a much nicer flat after all and Greg was a wonderful cook, it made perfect sense.

Mycroft shook his head. “I’m fairly certain about the matter,” he said. “I do hope that it is alright with you. You do have a few cookie cutters in the kitchen after all. You are practically moved in these days.”

Greg did not say anything for a long moment.

“I’m wanting to change that horrid wallpaper in the kitchen,” he said finally. “I’m not cooking in a dungeon.”

@piemaker-from-gallifrey @cannon-32

#Mystrade #Mystrade fanfiction #mystrade fanfic #greg lestrade #mycroft and lestrade #Mycroft x Lestrade #mycroft and greg #bbc sherlock #sherlock BBC #my wip

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knopfcooks · 4 years

Text

Sweet Potato Pie

From A GOOD BAKE by Melissa Weller

I started making sweet potato pie as an alternative to pumpkin pie. I love pumpkin pie, but I had been baking it and eating it for so many Thanksgiving seasons, I wanted a change. This is made with Garnet yams, which are rich and moist and lightened with beaten egg whites that are folded in. I also add orange juice, which brightens up the flavor. The result is a perfectly balanced filling that is rich and delicious, creamy and light, and not overly sweet.

This pie is best when made the day before you plan to serve it. I let mine sit out on the work surface, but if you are concerned because it contains eggs, you can also refrigerate it.

Makes 1 (9-inch) pie; serves 6 to 8

Note: You will need a 9-inch glass pie plate to make this. You will also need pie weights (or dried beans) to blind bake the crust.

You will need:

For the crust:

Master Recipe for Pâte Brisée, 1/2 recipe (Recipe follows)

Unsalted butter for greasing

All-purpose flour for dusting

For the filling:

Garnet sweet potatoes - 2 pounds, about 6 medium (908 grams)

Unsalted butter, cubed and softened - 8 tablespoons (1 stick) (113 grams)

Light brown sugar - 1 cup (lightly packed) (200 grams)

Finely grated orange zest - 1 orange

Fine sea salt - 1 1/2 teaspoons (9 grams)

Ground cinnamon - 1 teaspoon (2 grams)

Ground ginger - 1/4 teaspoon (<1 gram)

Freshly grated nutmeg - 1/4 teaspoon (<1 gram)

Fresh orange juice - 1/2 cup (125 grams)

Evaporated milk - 1/2 cup (120 grams)

Large eggs, separated - 3 (150 grams)

Make the Crust

Remove the dough from the refrigerator and set it on the work surface to rest for 10 to 15 minutes, until it is pliable but not soft.

Grease the bottom and sides of a 9-inch pie plate with butter.

Roll out the crust and line the pie plate Lightly dust a large flat work surface with flour. Unwrap the round of dough and place it on the floured surface. Lightly dust the dough and the rolling pin with flour and roll the dough out to a ⅛-inch circle (at least 15 inches in diameter), rotating the dough and dusting the work surface, dough, and rolling pin with flour as needed to prevent the dough from sticking to the work surface as you roll.

Gently fold the dough in half, pick it up, and place it on the pie plate with the fold running down the center of the plate. Unfold the dough and adjust it so the circle of dough is centered over the plate. Use your hands to guide the dough into the bottom crease and up the sides of the plate. Using kitchen shears, trim the dough so it hangs over the edge of the pie plate by 1 inch all around. Tightly roll the overhanging dough toward the center of the pie plate to create a lip that rests on the ridge of the plate. Crimp the crust. Put the pie shell in the refrigerator while you make the filling and up to overnight. (If you are refrigerating the pie shell overnight, cover it with plastic wrap before refrigerating.)

Blind bake the crust Arrange the oven racks so one is in the center position. Preheat the oven to 375°F.

Remove the pie shell from the refrigerator. Cut a piece of parchment paper that is larger than the pie and lay it on top of the crust. Using your fingers, press on the paper to line the crust, working it into the crease and making sure it fits snugly against the sides all the way to the crimped edge. Fill the pie with pie weights or dried beans.

Put the pie shell on the center rack of the oven to bake for 40 to 50 minutes, until the edges are light golden brown and dry looking, and the shell is beginning to brown, rotating the pie shell from front to back halfway through the baking time so it browns evenly. Remove the piecrust from the oven and place it on a cooling rack to cool to room temperature with the pie weights or beans in place. Gently lift the edges of the parchment paper to remove the paper and weights. Put the weights or beans in a container to use the next time you need pie weights. (If you used dried beans, be sure to label them as pie weights before returning them to your pantry, so you don’t try to cook them.)

Make the filling Peel the sweet potatoes and cut them into 1-inch pieces. Put the sweet potatoes in a pot fitted with a steamer insert, fill the pot with enough water so it comes just below the insert, and bring the water to a boil over high heat. Cover and steam the sweet potatoes until they are very tender when pierced with the tip of a knife. Turn off the heat, uncover the pot, and set the sweet potatoes aside to cool for about 5 minutes, until they are cool enough to handle.

Reduce the oven temperature to 325°F.

Mix the filling Transfer the sweet potatoes to the bowl of a food processor fitted with a metal blade and process until smooth. Add the butter, brown sugar, orange zest, salt, cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg, and process until the additions are mixed in and the butter has melted. Transfer the pie filling to a large bowl, using a rubber spatula to get all of the filling out of the food processor bowl. Add the orange juice and then the evaporated milk, stirring with a whisk to combine. Set the filling aside to cool to room temperature, 30 to 40 minutes. Then whisk in the egg yolks.

Place the egg whites in the bowl of a stand mixer. Fit the mixer with the whisk attachment and whisk the whites on medium-high speed until they hold a peak, 4 to 5 minutes. Add the whites to the bowl with the sweet potato mixture and use the spatula to gently fold them into the filling. Pour enough filling into the prepared piecrust to come to the bottom of the crimped edge; pour any remaining filling into small ramekins or a small baking dish to bake and snack on. Use a small offset spatula to smooth out the filling.

Bake the pie Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Place the pie on the baking sheet and put it on the center rack of the oven to bake for approximately 40 minutes, rotating the baking sheet from front to back halfway through the baking time, until the filling has puffed up and the custard is set; it will jiggle, but firmly, when you wiggle the pie. Remove the pie from the oven and set it on a cooling rack to cool to room temperature before serving.

_____________________

Pâte Brisée

Makes 2 pounds (1 kilogram) of dough; or enough for 1 double-crust pie or half of a slab pie

You will need:

Unsalted butter, cold - 24 tablespoons (3 sticks) (339 grams)

All-purpose flour - 2 1/2 cups (300 grams)

Whole-wheat pastry flour - 1 1/4 cups (150 grams)

Granulated Sugar - 3 tablespoons (38 grams)

Fine sea salt - 1 1/2 teaspoons (9 grams)

Water, cold - 1/2 cup (118 grams)

Cut the butter into 1/2-inch-thick pieces. Lay the pieces in a single layer on a plate and put the plate in the freezer for 10 minutes.

Combine the all-purpose flour, whole-wheat pastry flour, sugar, and salt in the bowl of a stand mixer. Fit the mixer with the paddle attachment and mix on low speed to combine the ingredients. Remove the butter from the freezer, add it to the mixer bowl, and combine on low speed for about 1 to 2 minutes, until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs with some large chunks of butter remaining. Turn off the mixer and use your hands to check the size of the butter; if there are any pieces larger than a nickel, pinch them between your fingertips to flatten them. Add the water and combine on low speed until the dough comes together but is still slightly shaggy; do not mix it until the dough is smooth and homogenous, like cookie dough.

The more you mix pie dough, the tougher the crust will be because you develop more gluten. And, when you overmix the dough, the chunks of butter break up; those chunks are what create the nice layers in a crust.

Put the dough on your work surface. If you are making a traditional round pie, cut the dough in half with a bench knife.

Lay two long sheets of plastic wrap in a crisscross formation on your work surface. Place one piece of dough in the center, where the two sheets cross. Use your hands to pat the dough into a round disk for a pie or tart, and into a rectangular block for a slab pie. Loosely wrap the dough in the plastic, leaving a few inches of slack all around. Run a rolling pin over each package of wrapped dough to roll it out in the plastic to a 1/2-inch-thick round or block. Place the dough in the refrigerator to chill for at least 2 hours and up to 2 days; or freeze it for up to 1 month.

Excerpted from A GOOD BAKE: The Art and Science of Making Perfect Pastries, Cakes, Cookies, Pies, and Breads at Home by Melissa Weller with Carolynn Carreño. Copyright © 2020 by Melissa Weller. Excerpted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

#KnopfCooks AGoodBake

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yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy · 5 years

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The Eagle of Unasta and The Dragon of Zarcade Part 2

Look, I’m in a funk ok? I will get back to my Viking’s stuff as soon as I get this story out of my system. @waiting4inspiration you still might like this even though it doesn’t pertain to any particular fandom that you like. In case you missed it, here’s part 1. Enjoy part 2.

Part 2

In the morning, you woke up, feeling well rested, and rejuvenated, dreaming of flying with Zaq some more among other things and when you fully woke up, you realized you had slept in the cloak but you hadn’t sweated in it, if anything you had been perfectly comfortable in it. It smelled of the night air and Zaq and you couldn’t help but bring it to your face and breathed in as deeply as you could as you marveled at its softness against your face.

He had carried you to bed like you had weighed nothing. Truth be told you were a rather voluptuous woman, shorter than you supposed was average and very curvy but compact and much heavier than you looked because you had more strength and muscle than most realized, so that was a feat in itself because he carried you like you had been barely a feather and he was clearly quite strong himself which you appreciated.

You got dressed and came down to breakfast at about the same time the rest of your family did as Ester eagerly waived you over to sit next to her again at her table.

“I thought you’d be in bed for at least another hour.” She murmured under her breath as she gave you a scheming smile.

“So did I, I have no idea when we got back.” You muttered back, keeping your voice barely above a whisper. “Now I’m just waiting for the floor to drop and my family to throw a fit over what I did when they find out, every Zarcadian here practically saw me riding last night- if my family doesn’t know already- I give it an hour before they do then shit will hit the fan.” You predicted.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so quick to worry. If anything you just gave every Zarcadian here hope that they have half a chance.” She mused which made you snort a laugh into your coffee.

“Yeah right, like one dance, one ride and two gifts is the magic combination to the Unasta’s lock.” You gave her a disbelieving look.

“Wait, gifts? What gifts?” She asked.

“That cloak I was wearing last night on that ride, it was given to me as a gift by Zaq.” You explained.

“Well a cloak can be just a cloak, it’s an item of clothing that can be bought and sold like any other.” She waived off dismissively. “I’ve been given dozens of cloaks in every color conceivable not to mention a whole new wardrobe of nothing but the finest dragon silk and dragon wool clothes which I'm finding I'm becoming incredibly partial to because they are rather comfortable- no offense to your aunt, but I would happily never wear another corset ever again after I marry Xander. But what makes my clothes special is Zarcadian’s use their dragon’s magic to divine your adult size even when you’re little or even when you’re a newborn, they somehow use it to figure out what your sizes will be when the engagement will be implemented, so that all of your clothes fit you like a glove when they’re given to you, it’s supposed to signify how you were always fated to fit in with the rest of the family and how your place has been carved out for you, although it is uncanny how well it all suits my tastes, the dragon silk and wool takes ages to dye and it has to be carefully crafted for years, which is why Zarcadian fashion tends to be so timeless.” She added. “So what was the second? Please tell me it was a kiss good night though, because I saw the way you eyed him all last night and I know once your eagle eyes lock on, there’s no losing your target and I must say I wholeheartedly approve because you two looked so great together when you were dancing last night.” She gushed.

“No, it was a dragon tooth blade.” You answered as you pulled it out of your pocket and showed it to her before she took it and took it out of its sheath to inspect it.

“Huh, interesting.” she frowned in concentration as she looked it over carefully, using the point to casually clean out her fingernail. “It’s nice, I mean not as nice as mine because I have mine spectacularly bejeweled, to the point I’m afraid the stones will come out if I use it. But you prefer functionality over looks so this suits you incredibly well. Does Zaq have one that is like a masculine version of it? Like a matched set?” She asked hopefully.

“No, not that I’ve seen, why?”You returned curiously.

“Well, see here’s the thing, if he had one just like it or a masculine version of it- like it’s a matched set- that means something.” She revealed.

“What does it mean?” You pressed as you felt vindicated in your gut feeling about it last night.

“So what the Zarcadians will do for couples is they enchant one big rough stone once the match is set, and it will be the link to join the couple and the stone- usually the nonzarcadian’s favorite stone- and it can be made into anything- jewelry, like a bracelet or a pendant, but the most common is handles for dragon tooth blades. And it’s supposed to signify that even in battle, you will defend each other and that your connection to each other is as strong as the dragon toothed blade it’s attached to. But if he doesn’t have one that matches it- then it’s just a normal dragon toothed blade- and again- those get bought and sold and traded all the time. So either those gifts mean he’s just being nice and generous and trying to befriend you, or they could mean something a bit more serious depending on your point of view.” She explained and you found yourself secretly wishing it was more serious but knew it was too much to hope for.

“How is the stone enchanted?” You asked because you just had a gut feeling that it wasn’t just some normal dragon toothed blade, you just felt in your bones that this was special, why else would it fit your hand like it was made for it because honestly you had small, dainty, delicate- but supremely strong hands and buying gloves was always a nightmare because none of them seemed to fit right so to have something that suited your hands, was a welcome and refreshing change of pace.

“Ok, so think of it- like a worry stone but it’s connected to the other half. Whatever you’re feeling- the other can feel it when they touch it and whatever feelings or emotions the other is feeling, you can get a sense of it from them through your half of the stone. It’s not necessarily thoughts per-say- like you can’t ask them a math question and they’ll feed you the answer, cause I tried it and it didn’t work, but it feels like…” She paused as she tried to find the right words to explain it. “You know how you feel sympathy and empathy for another person and you take how they are feeling and you make it your own?” She questioned as you nodded in understanding.

“It’s like that, like with mine, if I’m missing him or I’m sad or frustrated, and I can hold my dagger and if he’s holding his- he can feel that and vice versa, you can tell that it’s very much how they are feeling and you choose to make it your own or not, it’s a way for the couple to always be connected so that by the time of the wedding, you’re more or less friends and get a chance to get to know their emotional makeup and moods at least.” She explained.

“So who is Zaq betrothed to anyway?” You felt the need to ask.

“I have no idea. No one does. His great grandmother announced at his birth that his betrothed will be ‘one of great surprise’, and ‘it is she that will make herself known to him and to his family’ according to Xander who overheard his grandmother and mother talking about it right before they came here. Which is completely against custom because usually Zarcadian men are betrothed from a year up until they are like 10 or however long it takes for a “suitable” wife to come along and be born and once the match is made- it’s practically preached in the town square and everyone knows and word spreads like wildfire and they usually become pen pals and spend a lot of time together as kids and teenagers so that they’re not strangers to each other at their wedding. So either his betrothed is older than him which would be a first for Zarcadians because usually Zarcadian men are a couple of years older than their wives. But a woman of high enough stature or valuable enough that they were simply waiting for the next son to be born and whoever was born the quickest gets the girl because Zaq and several others from the other families were all born within the span of just a couple days of each other, some even hours apart. But I don’t think that’s what happened, or at least the whole story. His whole situation makes me think that they put in a bid for a princess and that great grandma made that announcement before she got an answer back because in this day and age who in their right mind would say no to a Zarcadian? Especially one from the house of Ceda, the second most distinguished house besides the royal family? Well besides your family of course, but the fact that she has maintained that all his life- makes me think that he secretly got rejected but she’s saving face and she doesn’t want anyone to know. So I believe he’s actually single and not betrothed to anyone and that the moment any woman no matter how humble or high her station who expresses any interest in him can have him and great grandma will go ‘Tada see? Somehow it was Miss Random all along.’ And cover her ass for dropping the ball and no one would be any wiser for it. But I mean look at him and his handsome self, if my theory is right- it’s not going to be long before he’s snatched up like this last lemon custard tart.” She hastily snatched up her prize from the tray and stuffed it in her mouth which made you snort another laugh and roll your eyes as you turned the dagger over in your hand, still marveling at how perfectly fit your hand as you wondered what was really going on before you put it away.

After breakfast you were walking through the solarium, enjoying the exotic flowers from around the world as you held that dagger in your hand in your pocket and mentally called out to Zaq to come and find you and where you were before Zaq seemed to come out of nowhere to answer your unspoken call.

“Those don’t really have a scent Eagle.” He gently teased which made you smile excitedly before you turned from sniffing them and feeling disappointed that they did indeed, not have a scent, despite their beauty but hoping that your little “test” just proved true.

“I suppose you already know which ones do Dragon?” You returned with a grin which made his own smirk grow into a smile.

“I do actually.” He confirmed.

“Then do lead me to said blooms.” You invited as you gestured for him to lead the way before he offered you his arm which you gratefully took and walked together, your strides naturally syncing with one another, not even wanting to look to see if he was wearing another dagger because you were afraid you would get disappointed that it wouldn't match just in case this was a fluke and you wanted to enjoy this little fantasy of yours a little longer before reality shattered it.

“So where are the other wolves today? Out hunting again?” You guessed.

“Yes, trying to anyway,” he confirmed which you hummed in response to.

“Was there a meaning behind your gifts to me last night? Or are you just a generous person by nature?” You asked wondering if he would speak freely with you, the most you could hope for is he would be honest but he was Zarcadian after all, and you knew they did love their secrets, and wondered how many ulterior motives he had and what they were.

“Well you are right, I am a generous person by nature, or at least I try to be and there is meaning behind them, an amicable one I assure you.” He answered.

Well that confirmed that he wanted to be your friend but it didn’t negate the more serious intentions either.

“Well I am appreciative of the gifts, the cloak fits me well and is perfectly balanced in that it kept me warm but wasn’t suffocating in any way, and this blade is especially exquisite and the handle is extraordinary, I have never had a blade fit my hands as well as this does and it has a beautiful balance of functionality and beauty. The blade your brother Xander gave to Ester is in my opinion, overly decorated to the point that it negates it’s functionality but Ester does love that kind of thing, I’m sure a gem would fall off the moment she would try to use it to spread butter on her toast not that it’ll probably never leave it’s sheathe. However I understand there is some cultural significance considering Xander has one that matches it since it came in a set. She informed me that it’s to signify that they’re a couple, which is a sweet tradition in my opinion, it can make a betrothal easier to accept especially when the parties have little to no choice in the matter.” You ventured as you took it out and continued to appraise it.

“It does, but I know that you are not chained to such traditions.” He answered carefully, knowing he would have to choose his words carefully and not spill the beans too soon and scare you off.

“You are also correct. My grandfather is very clear to his children and even his grandchildren that we should freely choose for ourselves what we should do and who we should marry and to hold fate in one hand and destiny in another and yet not give into either unless we want to but to otherwise carve out what you want with your own two hands.” You revealed.

“What I would give to be in such a family.” Zaq sighed, a week before he would have been feeling extremely jealous himself but right now he was tickled that you once again said word for word what his grandmother had predicted and he couldn’t wait to actually be your family one day.

“So absolute freedom then? No strings or restrictions?” He asked.

“Well, there is one stipulation. We are forbidden from marrying any Zarcadians, my grandfather may be old and getting perhaps a little senile in his old age but he's still the patriarch of the family and he still decides who inherits what and he does get the final say in all the important matters and so far he has never been wrong about anything, so at least while he lives, his word is law to a degree in our family. Now I'm told he has his reasons for feeling the way he does about Zarcadians but my parents as well as all my aunts and uncles refuse to tell me or my sisters or my cousins what those reasons could possibly be and shut us down every time we try to ask. There is a theory among us though that he loved a Zarcadian woman in his youth. But my grandfather was of very little means with no political ties so he had nothing but himself to offer her, and she had been betrothed to another since infancy or childhood or whatever the Zarcadian custom may be and could not break it for him. So his rejection made him bitter and there was no way for him to know at the time that he or any of his relation would ever amount to anything more than a commoner. I have seen Zarcade from a distance, even the houses of slaves are great and even they can trace their lineage back generations whereas in my family- all we have is living memory that my grandmother can remember about her own large family since my grandfather can only remember himself as a tumbleweed before he was in the army. But he found a place for himself as a soldier of Suter and his friends that he made there were closer than brothers and he made his own found family and he did get to marry my grandmother which he has vowed always was, always is and always will be the love of his life and even now, their love for each other burns brighter than the sun, as does the love between my parents and all my aunts and uncles." You confessed, shocking yourself with how easy it was to be so forthcoming, and worrying that Zaq now had ammunition against you as your stroked the handle to the blade anxiously before you felt a sense of calm, like you were safe- like you were with a dear friend who would keep your confidence- there was no other way to explain it.

“Well I am, technically only a small, tiny fraction Zarcadian, surely that’s far enough away from it for it not to be held against me.” He tried to reason, his own tone still light and a little teasing which helped you relax as you smiled fondly at him.

“Well while I can only speak for myself, I promise to do my best not to hold that against you, however I think others in my family probably- and by probably I mean most likely- would. I think they would take issue with the fact that your family is one of the most noble families of Zarcade, second only to the royal family and you live in one of the towers in the old kingdom do you not?” You questioned as he grimaced.

“Details, details,” He tried to waive off dismissively which made you giggle as you either consciously or subconsciously hugged his well muscled arm and laid your head on his shoulder for a moment before he covered your hand that was in the crook of his elbow and you found yourself appreciating for a second time how warm his hands were, still that same balance between softness and calloused-ness, yet profoundly tender, thinking to yourself that you could so fall in love with him with almost alarming ease and wondered if you could live with yourself if you defied your family to chase this dream you were perceiving now when you looked at him, of course, with him being possibly betrothed to another didn't sit well with you, as you were brought up that a husband and wife should be absolutely loyal and faithful to the other and that mistresses were never an option, that if there was no more love in a marriage- that one should divorce the other so that you were both free to love another and find happiness and love again, you never wanted to be the other woman and would in turn never tolerate infidelity but if he was secretly free and single and looking to get out of Zarcade you could definitely be interested and you would happily break him out of the traditions he was chained to if he wanted to be free that is. You supposed only time could tell at this point though.

When you got to the promised blooms, you reluctantly let him go to take a few steps off the path to smell the blooms as Zaq’s dragon flew all around the salarium to try to get a closer look at the two you as Zaq was shooing her away.

“Is your dragon missing you?” You asked, having seen her reflection in the glass around you.

“Kind of?” Zaq grimaced, you really did see everything and he didn’t want his dragon ruining or spoiling anything just yet.

“So if I may be so bold- is there any way to be a dragoner without being a Zarcadian?” You asked.

“Well, in theory, yes, if you could get your hands on some dragon eggs and manage to incubate them and successfully hatch them, you could grow them up and start breeding them once they’re of size but most dragons have a way of finding their brethren and returning to the same place their ancestors hatched from since they use the same sites for generations as long as the sites are not compromised or contaminated because most dragons are actually really picky about how and where they lay their eggs, of course, with that being said- you’d have to brave a whole cavern full of nursery and guardian dragons to get to the eggs.” He answered and you got the sense that he was being truthful.

“So how are dragon eggs incubated?” You asked curiously, thrilled that he was sharing even this much with you.

“Well they get set on fire by the parent’s dragon fire and have to stay at really high temperatures for several months, the longer the better. I have to get dressed in many thick layers of dragon leather and dragon scale armor and use special lenses made out of translucent dragon scales to even see the eggs so I can count them while they’re in incubation and drop off all the carcasses for the nursery and guard dragons to eat because they never really leave the caves, that’s why most dragons who hunt are actually males- but once they reach those final few weeks, the dragons instinctively and very carefully lower the temperature so that by the time they are ready to come out of the egg, we can be present to welcome them into the world and you would be surprised to find out how shockingly similar they are to kittens or puppies when they’re little, especially when they’re roughly the same size, and they usually imprint on us and their parents and the other nursery and guardian dragons so it’s much easier to teach them how to take a rider when they want to be ridden by you.” He explained, happy to talk so freely about something that Zarcadians usually were sworn to secrecy about but to you- he knew he could trust you with this information in turn as he was relieved that the reason your grandfather had forbidden the marriages before was probably due to a grudge but if your grandfather was already old and frail, surely he wouldn’t have to wait too long before that obstacle would remove itself, hopefully sooner than later. He could sense that you were a revolutionary in the making, an independant trail blazer and he couldn’t wait to show you everything he was talking about as soon as he figured out how in the world he was going to manage to get you to come to Zarcade.

“So basically the only way to really get into dragons is to first have a pair of them to lay eggs in a cave that isn’t their ancestral nesting site on Zarcadian soil and get them to incubate and care for the eggs themselves because doing it any other way doesn't seem feasible, so the venture does seem like an impossibility since owning dragons is an exclusive right held only by Zarcadians and the only way into that is by marrying into a Zacadian family who breeds them on their own and already knows the tips and tricks as you appear to.” You surmised and Zaq could only nod in agreement to that reasoning.

“Well, there is one other kind of roundabout way, you could marry into a Zarcadian family, get given those dragons as wedding presents since dragons are the last present given to a bride coming into the family then find a way to divorce them and take the dragons with you- if you managed to be the first to get your legal divorce since divorce is banned, I mean you could, in theory do it.” He offered. “Just because every other person has failed trying to be a dragoner without becoming a Zarcadian- in the history since my ancestors, however distant they may be in my family, shouldn’t deter you.” He tried to encourage you but his tone was still playful which made you laugh.

“Oh is that all? Easy peasy then. All I would need now is a Zarcadian groom who isn’t betrothed already, which I will need all the luck in the world to find unless he practically fell out of the sky into my lap, to agree to teach me all there was to know about dragons, marry me, hand the dragons over to me and then immediately divorce me if he was not willing to turn his back on his people, culture and traditions unless he wanted to do all of those things and leave with me, in which case we’d both be outcasts from our families and we would be completely on our own from that moment on and be the enemies of not just Suter and the Unastas but the Zarcadians as well and find a mountain range suitable to building a new nesting site in addition to him having dragons who would in turn be willing to follow me home and go against their own instincts which are stronger than any animal.” You realized as Zaq simply smiled, knowing it would never get quite that bad but if he had to be dropped into your heavenly divine lap, so be it.

“You could hold auditions, have the declaration of war right next to the sign up sheet.” He mused which got you both to laugh as you walked back to him before you just casually took a walk through the solarium together, talking about everything, upbringings and cultures and food and of course going back to dragons as often as possible before it was lunchtime and you snagged a servant to bring you lunch in the solarium so that you could enjoy it in privacy with Zaq without the whole world watching.

“So could I use this on like everyday things or just use it for special occasions or what?” You asked as you both enjoyed nice little sandwiches as you sat on the swing together and gently swung, enjoying the fresh spring blooms and their scents around you as you appreciated the dagger some more, getting used to its weight and balance.

“You can use it however you see fit. But just be careful- it is sharp and will cut through just about anything but if it ever gets dull, just let me know and I’ll resharpen it for you.” Zaq offered.

“Thank you.” You beamed happily at him as you were just amazed that the more time you spent with him, the more you felt like you had always known him, like you had been friends for forever already and something about him just clicked with you.

“Ok, do you mind if I asked you a rather personal question?” You asked as you split the last mango custard tart which was your personal favorite.

“Go for it.” He invited as he gratefully took the other half and ate it gleefully.

“I know Zarcadians have the custom of being betrothed very young, would I be correct to assume that you are too?”

"You would be wrong if you did." He answered with a smile that was practically scheming that excited every nerve in your body.

"What? How? How are you not betrothed?!" You pressed, forcing your voice to be a hushed whisper as you turned towards him and leaned even closer to him.

"Because an offer of marriage hasn't been made on my behalf yet and no one will either. No offer, no proposal, no betrothal. In fact, most of my younger siblings aren't even betrothed and they are well passed the age." He informed you, his own voice an equally hushed whisper as his body language mirrored yours.

"Who handles all the betrothals in your family?" You asked.

"My great grandmother, you're not the only one with a senile grandparent." He hinted. "Of course if you ask anyone else, they'll tell you that I am but "it's a secret surprise" but there has never been a name mentioned. When I was younger it used to give a lot of anxiety because not knowing was unnerving. But the older I get- the more I appreciate it.” He admitted as you both laid your heads against the back cushions of the swing as once again your sleepiness seemed to take over, because it was now siesta time but you didn’t want your time together to end.

“Are you ok?” Zaq asked as you yawned.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I had a great lunch so now it’s siesta time to Unastas.” You murmured sleepily as you struggled to keep your eyes open but you couldn’t wipe the dreamy smile from your lips if you tried.

“Do you wish to return to your room?” He asked.

“No, I don’t want to leave and I love hearing you talk about...everything.” You answered.

“Here,” Zaq said as he pulled a cushion from another chair and scooted back so that you could lay down which you gladly obliged, laying on your back on the bench, your knees laing over the armrest of the swing looking up past the frame into the canopy as Zaq pulled a magicked dragon wool handkerchief out of his pocket and started to stretch and pull and fluff it so that it grew into a throw blanket big enough to cover you before he laid it over you so you could sleep comfortably and actually sang you a lullaby, his tone becoming soft before you quickly fell asleep with the added gentle swaying and rocking of the swing.

“God is my fate beautiful.” Zaq whispered in awe as he gently reached out and gently traced the lines of your face, memorizing every curve before he pulled out a journal from his breast pocket and made notes of the other details of his great grandmother’s prophecy you had gotten right before he sketched you in his journal, marveling at you and so happy with himself that he had waited for you. Because you were obviously worth the wait and his great grandmother was right in that if she had told anyone who The Eagle was, no one would believe her. But now he did, with his whole heart and soul.

He put the journal away and pulled out a second book and happily read in silence to let you sleep for as long as you needed, happy and content that you trusted him enough to be so open and vulnerable with him so soon, he thought it would take at least a week to get half as far but when you stirred and rolled over and moved up, moving the pillow to his lap so that all of you could fit on the bench, he happily continued to sit there and have you sleep peacefully in his lap as he read out of his favorite book before he heard someone else come into the solarium and worried about who it might be before he heard his brother and his future sister in law’s voices as they came in and eagerly went to their own hidden spot nearby, thankfully out of sight to have a randevu as Zaq rolled his eyes and tried to push the noise they were making out of his head as he tried to focus on his book and not let what they were doing affect him, not wanting his boner to disturb your slumber and when they had finally finished many heated moments later he blew out a breath of relief and couldn’t help but grin when they were all giggles and cooing to each other as they then got straightened up and continued to walk around the solarium.

“Oh!” They exclaimed as they noticed Zaq sitting on the bench reading with someone sleeping in his lap.

“Please tell me that’s Anya,” Ester whispered excitedly as she came over to see who it was and silently cheered when it was you.

“Yes!” She practically bounced as she then went to her fiance to shake him in excitement as he stood there in shocked surprise.

“No way, that can’t be The Eagle.” Xander shook his head in disbelief.

“Wait what? Eagle?” She pressed.

“Zaq’s mystery woman, who everyone has always refered to her as The Eagle.” Zaq explained.

“Unasta’s have golden griffens in their coat of arms. Sudi has Eagles.” Xander argued.

“Red Eagles, so you take the color of one and the creature of the second because her mother is of Sudi, it’s her father who’s an Unasta. Grandma said that mine was supposed to be golden, look at her hair and tell me that isn’t the same colors as a golden eagle, when we were dancing last night we were bantering and she called me a wolf, I called her an Eagle and she didn’t argue and when I said Golden Eagle, she beamed before she corrected herself and called me a dragon.” Zaq defended.

“Look, you don’t know Anya, she’s literally the embodiment of an eagle, she is the most eagle eyed woman I have ever known, she sees her target and she goes for it and won’t stop until it’s hers. She’s incredibly perceptive and sharp and she practically flies on her horses, the faster the better and did you see how natural of a rider she was last night? Come on, she is it, I totally see why your grandma said no one would believe it. Oh my god, my best friend is gonna be my sister,” Ester practically squealed in excited whispers before she started doing a small victory dance.

“How in the world are we going to get her to Zarcade though?” Xander wondered aloud.

“Oh leave that to me, I can ask her parents on our wedding day for her to visit me after we get back from our honeymoon and no one in their right mind says no to a bride on her wedding day, at least to me.” Ester schemed as Zaq and Xander looked at each other in pleasant surprise.

“Thank you,” Zaq thanked her appreciatively.

“Now, word of advice, when you really want to prove to her that this is fate and destiny, give her the gloves, she has the hardest time getting gloves that fit her hands. Also, we should stop on our way to Zarcade to pick her up and you need to come with us, because their entire district is gorgeous and stay at least one night because their family feasts that they have every night are always super laid back and casual instead of so formal like it is here, that and Unasta’s always take siestas which I’m kind of jealous that I wish we did too but every Unasta works very hard all day and all of Anya’s siblings and cousins kind of flock to whoever they want to work with that day and they all have their own projects that they work on with everyone so that everyone has a well rounded education and nothing is gendered, like her cousin Parker, he can design clothes just as beautiful as his aunt can and her sister Megan, she can butcher hogs better than anyone and they all have their own plots of gardens so they grow what they want to grow, be it flowers or vegetables or fruits or whatever. They are given freedom, opportunities and choices most could only dream of while they all love and support each other so much and they just generally have so much fun.” She urged them as they all sat down in the sitting area, Ester choosing to sit on Xander’s lap because the other chair didn’t have it’s cushion which Xander didn’t mind one bit.

You woke up to the sound of soft conversation before you slowly let your eyes flutter open. “Hey sleepy head.” Ester greeted cheerfully as Xander himself smiled happily at you from his place behind her.

“Hey,” you greeted as you stretched and yawned before you sat up.

“Thank you,” you thanked him appreciatively as you begrudgingly tried to give it back. “How did you make it so big?” You asked him curiously as you looked at the royal blue fabric in your hands appreciatively.

“Like this.” Zaq said as he demonstrated how to make it smaller and then bigger again as Ester and Xander watched on with amusement before he handed the folded handkerchief to you. “For you.” He offered.

“Really? Thank you so much! It’s even my favorite color!” You gushed excitedly which had Ester and Xander smiling knowingly at each other. Oh this was going to be fun.

#The Eagle of Unasta and The Dragon of Zarcade #Part 2

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juniorformulamotorsport · 5 years

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Sunday, 14th July 2019 – The Yeatman, Vila Nova de Gaia

Sunday night was the blow out meal of the weekend, a 2 Michelin-starred tasting menu in what might be the best hotel in the area, the Yeatman. First, however, we stopped off for a drink in Porto before getting a taxi across to Vila Nova de Gaia. In our search for a good place to get a drink, we stumbled upon the Livraria da Baixa, another of the ex-bookshops that have become other things over the years. There seems to be quite a bit of that going on in Porto. We had yet another porto tonico, and this one was different again. The barman asked us which one we liked best, but they were all good in their own ways.

After we’d finished our drinks we headed to the Intercontinental and asked the concierge to find us a taxi to the Yeatman. It didn’t appear, after all, to be the sort of place we wanted to fetch up in looking all sweaty and dishevelled! Also, we wanted to get there a little early so we could have a second round of drinks in Dick’s Bar up there. We’d heard it had excellent views. The taxi pulled up and several uniformed doormen appeared to hold doors open and point the way for us.

It’s very nice! We were escorted in, shown to the restaurant, and asked if we could start the evening in the bar. We were soon installed in a table on the terrace overlooking the river and it is certainly reasonable to say they have a view. As well as the river, and Porto opposite, you get a view of the gardens and the swimming pool – the latter appeared to be full of seagulls using it as a giant birdbath. Perhaps they have a better class of seagull at the Yeatman. Who knows!

Armed with a port cocktail each we dragged our attention away from the seagulls, and towards the view. The weather was not as clear as we might have liked, but the vista is still pretty impressive, even without sunshine and blue skies. I rather imagine in fine weather it would be gorgeous.

The port cocktails were pretty good too!

We decided it was best not to have a second round, and instead moved across to the restaurant to start dinner. There is only the tasting menu (at €170 per person), but if, as we did, you reserve online, this is emailed to you along with your confirmation so you can let the restaurant know if there is anything you don’t eat. In our case it was the pork option, so we let them know and then relaxed into the evening, knowing we’d be well looked after. I should also say that the restaurant has great views, but we weren’t on a window table (I assume those probably go to people actually staying at the hotel), so I only got a photo at the end of the evening.

The first thing that happened, given the Yeatman is part of the Taylor’s port group, was that we were offered a glass of white port as an aperitif while we looked at the menu to make sure it was still to our liking, and we checked the wine list and decided on that or the matching wines chosen by the restaurant for an extra €75 for 6 different wines). The wines in question can also all be bought through the Yeatman Wine Club so it was really easy to establish what we’d had for once. The aperitif was a glass of Churchill’s Dry White which is rather more sweet than the name implies, though it still has a good, dry finish and peppery notes that would probably mean it’s good with cheese too. It worked very well in the heat, well chilled as it was, even if taking a good sniff of it left condensation all over the glass!

Before the first course of the tasting menu arrived, our first glass of wine was delivered, a Filipa Pato 3b Rosé (https://www.theyeatmanwineclub.com/en/espumante-filipa-pato-rose-3b) or more precisely perhaps Filipa Pato & William Wouter 3B Metodo Traditional Rosé, Bairrada, Beiras, Portugal, fresh, elegant, sparkling and just the thing with the parade of amuse bouches that arrived next.

First up, however, was a pair of cool towels for us to freshen up with, which were much welcomed.

The first morsels of food started to appear! And they were good! The first items was described as a Cocktail of apple, spinach and kale (manzana, espinacas y col) and was served with a very fresh bowl of oyster, jalapeños and apples with was fresh from the apples, tasted of the sea and packed a lively punch from the jalapeños.

It was soon joined by a tiny selection of “fish and chips” with two tangles of thinly chipped potato, and a piece of batters fish each. It was both fun and fabulous, and it was quite clear that the kitchen and the chef know what they are doing and have a sense of humour.

The cocktail was delicious (and may be the only way to deal with kale in a way that makes it palatable rather than like trying to eat crispy cardboard)! It was also a slightly alarming shade of green, with sweetness from the apple overlaying a slight cabbage-y bitterness.

The next round was barbeque chicken, and again demonstrated both humour and skill with a chicken sandwich, a smoked chicken oyster in panko breadcrumbs, and a chicken liver mousse, and superb even to those of us who normally avoid chicken (mostly for fear of how it might have been raised, though I rather suspect that the Yeatman is as concerned about provenance as Lynne and I are).

The final round of amuse bouches was tuna-based with a bonito “nitrogeno” that was tartare-style…

And a tuna “sandwich”, with fish roe and mayonnaise wrapped in a nori seaweed sheet. It was a fun thing, full of flavour and it came with its own little dramatic reveal from inside a scroll of paper that the waiter then opened at the table. I was liking this place, because although there is a formality to the Yeatman, there is also a great deal of playfulness, and the staff could not be friendlier.

The sommelier brought the next wine, an Ilha do Pico Arinto 2017, from the Azores and fermented in oak vats for 6 months. The result is incredibly drinkable, especially with seafood, which is where the menu started. It doesn’t look as if it often escapes from the Portuguese speaking world, which is a pity because I really enjoyed it and would like to drink more of it.

It went brilliants with the Gamba Blanca (crayfish) with crab and clams. The crab and clams were in the form of a neat little beignet, and we were encouraged to use our hands to eat it rather than being wussy and using cutlery, neat though the cutlery was.

There was a sauce with it that needed to be scooped up and smeared on the beignet, and it was a positive pleasure to do just that. The dish was described as including chawanmushi, a traditional Japanese appetiser of steamed savoury egg custard and usually full of things like prawns, fish cake, mushrooms and so on so I assume that was what was holding the crab and clam mix together.

The crayfish came separately, carrying on the egg custard theme but being decorated with what the French would probably call mimosa style eggs, coriander and a traditional broth. It was a most excellent portion of shrimp, prawn, crayfish, whatever you want to call it.

We had moved, oenologically, onto a new white wine, this time a glass of Anselmo Mendes Parcela Unica 2016, made from Alvarinho grapes. We got the expected peach, citrus and minerality from it, which went well with the shrimp, and also with the cuttlefish that was brought out next. These were tiny cuttlefish served two ways, with fried rice and with a gloriously unctuous spicy Hollandaise sauce. The first pieces were served an a plate possibly made from a dried cuttlefish, which just made me laugh…

It also tasted good, especially dredged through the spicy Hollandaise sauce.

The other pieces came on a plate decorated with octopus shapes. It seemed a lot of trouble to go to, but then it’s that sort of place.

We knew we’d moved on from fish when the waiters brought us some butter in a very stylish box…

There was also a dish of olive oil, the oil a lovely shade of golden yellow that instantly made me want to dunk some bread in it.

That was made possible when the loaf of sourdough was put in front of us.

We had reached what would usually be the suckling pig course, but the restaurant swapped things round and served us the national beef first. It was a small but perfectly cooked piece, the iron of the rare meet working brilliantly with the roasted spring onion, the Jerusalem artichoke puree, and the rich, deep civet sauce. The meat would probably have fallen apart with just the application of a spoon, but we used our knives, cutting small pieces to try and make it last as long as possible. With it was drank a mighty fine, deep Maria João Private Collection 2008 from the Dão, and made possibly from Alfrocheiro, Aragonez, Touriga Nacional, and Jaen grapes (at least the 2010 was), with notes of chocolate, toasted cocoa, spices and dried red fruits that I definitely picked up.

If the beef and wine combination was good, the replacement for the suckling pig, which came next was sublime. It was the same accompaniments or mango, coconut and chilli, but served with two perfectly cooked pigeon breasts, the skin beautifully seasoned and crsip. We drank a Boavista Reserva 2015. I’ve seen the wine described as “deep ruby colour. Complex, deep, intense and seductive hints of both red and black fruit, plus tobacco, spices and dark chocolate”. I see no reason to disagree with that assessment.

The last of the pigeon was gone, and it was on to the home straight for a dessert or two, starting with wild strawberries (in different textures), including a soup served in a wonderfully complicated drinking vessel. This definitely was essence of strawberries in all their wonderful forms, and it was a brilliant way to complete an excellent meal. Especially with a glass of Adega de Favaios Moscatel Colheita 1999, a sweet white moscatel instead of a port, but made with much the same levels of care, commitment and, dare I say it, obsession to create an ideal dessert wine. The Moscatel Galego grape produces a clear, bright, golden coloured wine, with citrus freshness and honeyed sweetness that matches fruit as well as chocolate. It’s a wonderful wine.

There was also São Tomé chocolate (with toasted corn, toffee, and whipped cream) which came along with the terrifyingly well-stocked petit fours trolley. We resisted the temptation of an offer to let us have a piece of everything on the trolley because I think we’d have needed to be put of trolleys to be taken out to the foyer if we’d done that.

I did weaken and have a tiny doughtnut, and a pastel de nata though, along with a cute little meringue.

We turned down the offer of infusions or coffee and were presented with a copy of the menu each in a lovely sealed envelope, along with a list of the wines we’d drunk. It was a lovely evening, and we were more than happy to get a taxi back to the Intercontinental instead of trying to walk to the metro (which would be doable, but who wantes to after a meal like that, right?)

Food 2019 – The Yeatman, Vila Nova de Gaia Sunday, 14th July 2019 - The Yeatman, Vila Nova de Gaia Sunday night was the blow out meal of the weekend, a 2 Michelin-starred tasting menu in what might be the best hotel in the area, …

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