#all you knead is loave

[jvzebel-x]

🎶 sweet bread, sweet bread,

portuguese sweet breeeeaaaad 🎶

#... no it isnt a song at all lmao its just the song i was humming while kneading the bread LMAO. #i love sweet bread. so so so very much lmao. &portuguese sweet bread is huge back home. &i am. island-sick lmao. #the most notorious sweet bread shop is actually on moloka'i&(if it hasnt changed since) you literally go down an alley #to a door w a little sliding window&you put your cash thru tell them how many loaves of bread you want&they slide it back to you. #ive literally done drug deals that are less strange than picking up moloka'i hot bread LMAO. #anyway another fun fact about breads bc i love bread is that sweet hawaiian rolls are portuguese sweet bread made w pineapple juice :) #also traditionally pão doce is made&served for easter but im months late bc of course LMAO. #yas #my food #♡

[hunnylagoon]

Birthday Girl

A/N This is my first tumblr fic. I’m a retired Wattpad warrior, I only wrote this bc the Ellie tag is over diluted by smut, we need some angst and fluff to balance it out. My credentials are that I used to write Game of Thrones fanfic and I was blocked by Noah Beck on Twitter. Apologies in advance for any spelling errors or confusing sentences, bc I was high off my ass when I wrote this.

Summary

Jackson’s resident Baker works herself tirelessly to take care of everyone on their birthday and ensure they get something nice to brighten their special day but who is there to take care of her?

Birthdays are like brilliant gems in the kaleidoscope of time; they are the times when life's symphony crescendos into a celebration of its children. As the sun circles the earth once a year, we are given a day to celebrate our own journey, a day that whispers stories of victories, laughter, and the sweet notes of resiliency. You had always loved birthdays, who didn't? The look of joy on someone's face when they open a  gift you spent weeks looking for, the uncontrollable smile and pure serotonin that took over even the grumpiest of people. Everyone had a special day designated to them, of course, it was a cause to celebrate. 

You worked in the town bakery with very few other people, from five am to twelve pm on Monday to Friday every single week you were hustling around in a humid bakery, hell, you ran it like the navy.  Every morning, walking into the bakery is like stepping into a fragrant paradise where time seems to slow down to the sound of ovens buzzing to life. The first two hours were just for you before you let anyone in, The comforting routine of donning a flour-dusted apron and tying back unruly hair precedes the artistry of crafting pastries and breads. The almost therapeutic rhythm of kneading, rolling, and shaping becomes second nature: the soft crack of eggs, the calculated pour of sugar, and the clouds of flour hovering in midair. 

There wasn't much creative freedom while working in the Jackson bakery, it really just consisted of making dozens of bread loaves daily and then carting them over to the 'Barbecue Place' Which was once a restaurant though it had been refashioned into Jackson's mess hall.  However, you were able to dabble in some fun and were able to make cupcakes daily and a large batch of miscellaneous pastries every Friday. The cupcakes were very dear to you, you had to beg Maria when you were thirteen to approve the idea and eventually, you were green-lit.

As you step into the bakery you are greeted by the creek of wooden planks which are a testament to decades of busy activity; the dance of innumerable bakers has worn away at their shiny surfaces. The aroma of baked goods still hovers in the air from the previous day and all the days that came before, taking you to a more peaceful time. Sunlight streams through old lace curtains, illuminating worn, mismatched tables and chairs that have served eager clients for centuries though they no longer serve guests in the bakery. Deeply patinated wooden shelves support a variety of ceramic jars, each containing a treasure trove of hidden ingredients. Fading photos and yellowed newspaper clippings decorate the walls, telling the story of the bakery's illustrious past. There are copper pots and pans strung like time capsules on strong hooks, and an old-fashioned cash register sits on the end of the counter past the empty glass displays, it no longer serves a purpose but you have fought bravely to keep it around as it makes you think of what life had been like before the world fell apart. 

You look at a beat-up calendar on the walls, sitting in the place of an old picture frame that had been knocked down and shattered by none other than yourself when you were fourteen and had the bright idea of having you and your friend toss a bag of flour at each other to see who was strong enough to last longer in the odd game of catch. Surely, Ellie threw the five-pound bag a little too hard, you ducked to save yourself but it smashed into the framed photo of the family who ran the bakery before the apocalypse. It not only was smashed into little fragments but the bag of flour exploded and covered the dining room of the bakery as well as yourself in white powder, it looked like it had snowed inside. The calendar you were checking held the birthday of every person in Jackson, it was messy and hard to read as you usually had to cram several birthdays into a single day which was only a small square, it was hardly legible, there was almost no one else who could read it. Every day when you walked into the bakery, the first thing you did was check the calendar to find out whose birthday it was, then you began your bread dough or carried on with the sourdough started the day before, while the dough rose, you made cake batter, adjusting the recipe according to how many you had to make. After finishing work for the day or sometimes when you were midway through it, you would give each person a cupcake to celebrate their special day.

Even if no one else remembered their birthday, you were always there to make it a little bit better.

Today there were two birthdays on the calendar, Sean Casey, a man who was turning sixty. The second birthday marked down in the little square was yours. 

That's what made that day so special, you were ecstatic to see what your friends had planned for you later. Last year Ellie promised that she would go above and beyond for your next birthday and you were going to hold her to that. There was already a nice start to your morning by having your dad wake you up with breakfast in bed which you found truly impressive as he usually slept in till at least ten, on top of that he had scavenged a stand mixer for the home. You grabbed your apron off of the hook putting it over your neck and tying it tight around your waist. Everyone had a couple of designated aprons to rotate through throughout the week, yours consisted of two plain white ones, a red gingham pattern, one of forest green, and another made of a fabric covered in hyacinth flowers, their colours diluted like paint. Today you wore the apron your father gave you last year on your birthday, it was your favourite colour and the neckline was embroidered to say '(y/n)s kitchen'. You could tell your dad did the embroidery himself, the stitches were loose and uneven in some areas while being extremely tight in others, that's why you loved it so much, it was the thought and care behind it.

With a gentle hand, you pulled each of your necessary ingredients along with equipment out to begin your day. You preheat the ovens and in the quiet pre-dawn hours, the bakery comes alive with the hushed sounds of industrial mixers. The heady scent of freshly milled flour dances in the air as you measure the precise alchemy of ingredients, your hands moving with practiced grace. Kneading the dough becomes repetitive, muscles working in harmony to transform a mound of humble ingredients into a soft elastic texture. As the dough rests and rises, the anticipation builds—the promise of crusty loaves and soft, pillowy interiors. You slipped the pans of dough into the industrial ovens, the heat attacking you the second you opened the door; making sure to place the pumpernickel, rye, sourdough, brioche and wheat loaves all sorted on different racks in the respective ovens.

By the time you put the loaves in ovens it had been two hours from when you began, even with preparation the day before and dough starters, it was a process. You quickly washed your hands before unlocking the door for Juno as well as anyone who wanted to come in to visit. 

The clock read '7:09', because of the passthrough you were still able to look outside via the glass storefront, you could see people walking along the streets heading to whatever job they worked to contribute to the community, no one got paid, it was a commune after all, you couldn't imagine a world where everyone was so dependent on money and so obsessed with over-consumption. Part of you was waiting for one of those people to come in and wish you a happy birthday, but you shook the thoughts from your head.

You began to make the small portion for two of cupcake batter, remembering distinctly how four years ago you sat next to Sean at the Fourth of July party and he went on and on about how much he hated vanilla, it seemed like one of those crazy old man rants but you found delight in it. Never had you seen a man so passionate about cake flavouring. He said vanilla was nothing special, flavourless; you had come to learn that he was a chocolate man, every holiday event filling his pot belly with chocolate, when you had brought assorted sweets for a Christmas party he dove straight for the brownies. So it was easy for you to make up your mind on what flavour of cupcake to make.

After years of this cupcake tradition you had memorized each ratio to make, a double serving of chocolate batter consisting of 1/4 cup of flour, 2 1/2 tablespoons of white sugar, 1 tablespoon of unsweetened cocoa powder, 1/4 tablespoon of baking soda, a dash of salt, 2 tablespoons milk, two tablespoons canola oil, 1/4 tablespoon vanilla extract. You treated baking like it was a science and recipes were your formulas.

As for the frosting, you had a stockpile of plain buttercream that you took small servings from and flavoured according to said person's preference. All you had to do was whip it up and add some cocoa powder to make it fluffy and creamy again.

The bell above the doorway rang, signalling the arrival of someone, you looked up to see Maria. "Hey, there," You smiled, turning off the stand mixer so you could hear her.

"Hi, (y/n)," She greeted and you quickly wiped whatever was on your hands onto your apron before coming around to the service counter to speak with her. "I have something to ask of you."

"Yes?"

"I know you already do your little cupcake thing but we are throwing a surprise party tonight for Sean and I was hoping you could make a cake for him?"

You nod with a smile "Anything for the town chief."

"Great, then how about a simple vanilla cake?"

"Sean doesn't like vanilla," You answered quickly.

"Okay, well I trust you with it, his party starts at eight tonight in the town square and he's turning sixty so it's a big one, I'll see you there around then?" 

"Definitely," You grinned at Maria, waiting for her to wish you a happy birthday and reveal that she was only pretending to forget but she didn't. She thanked you and walked out, leaving you in a flour-covered apron with a tinge of hurt in your heart. It wasn't like you weren't close with Maria, you had Thanksgiving at her house every year.

Nonetheless, it was only a blip in your soon-to-be perfect day. Just as you had frosted the two cupcakes, putting chocolate chips on Sean's and breaking half of a double fudge cookie and sticking it into the thick icing. Rainbow sprinkles cascade like confetti, adding a whimsical touch to the miniature confection. The bell rang again calling for your attention, this time you didn't leave the kitchen instead just moved to look at whoever it was by the passthrough.

"Hey, kiddo!" Tommy greeted, clad in a red flannel tucked into blue jeans. He walked into the bakery as comfortably as he would his home.

"Howdy, Tommy," You said, moving out of his sight for a quick moment to put the two cupcakes in the fridge to prevent the buttercream from prematurely melting. 

"So, it's Sean's birthday today and I was wondering if you could bake a cake for his party-

"Maria was already in," You answered "Don't worry, I'm on it."

He smiled "Of course, you're always so on top of it," He leaned over the counter slightly, trying to get a look inside the kitchen via the passthrough "Say, have you got anything back there for me?" You opened the box of double fudge cookies you made the day before and scooted around the passthrough to hand him one, boots clattering on the ground. Tommy loved to visit the bakery as you always had a sweet treat for him and he would never get sick of the aromatic embrace of fresh bread. "Thanks, kiddo, I'll see you around." 

This was the moment you were almost convinced that they were planning a surprise party for you, sure Maria could forget about your birthday, she was a busy lady but there was no way Tommy would. He was good buddies with your dad and was over at your place for beers a minimum of once a week. You always baked for him when he came over and he constantly joked about you trying to fatten him up. 

The bell sounded again though you didn't bother to look up, you knew who it was by the time of the clock, Juno was starting her shift. As usual, she tied her mousy brown hair into a sleek ponytail then grabbed her apron and stuck a baseball cap on over her head so there was no chance of her hair coming loose. "Good morning," She walked into the kitchen, heading over to the sink to wash her hands.

"Mornin'," You answer.

She looks you up and down with a slight smile "You're wearing your favourite apron, must be a special day."

“Sure doesn't feel like it."

♡

Your birthday wasn’t panning out great but you didn't want to lose hope.

You had walked over to the greenhouses after your shift to find Sean, he loved the cupcake, he even hugged you which was nice albeit a little odd. You walked through town a bit after you had stopped and talked to everyone on the street for not a single one to say the words you've been pleading to hear all day. Taking it as defeat, you grabbed a sandwich for lunch from the mess hall and began the desolate walk home.

Nestled at the end of a peaceful, tree-lined street, the charming but battered house had a certain charm that cut through its worn yellow exterior. Tentacles of ivy wrapped about the crumbling outside walls, their green tones infusing the dilapidated building with a hint of the natural world's tenacity. The worn-out yet friendly doormat and weathered rocking chair on the porch told of years spent taking in the changing of the seasons. The wooden frames of the windows, adorned with faded drapes that seen innumerable sunsets, spoke tales of laughter and time passed.

The house's coziness unfolded inside like a time capsule, with worn-out rugs covering creaky floorboards and a fireplace in the living room that was adorned with vintage tiles that were mismatched and provided warmth in more ways than one. The rooms had a lived-in comfort despite the peeling wallpaper and chipped paint, and each mismatched piece of furniture seemed to tell a story of its own. Despite being tatty and ragged around the edges, the house exuded a calmness that invited guests to enjoy the beauty concealed in the flaws of a place that had aged gracefully and with character like most homes in Jackson. The living room was always your favourite, there was a spruce bookshelf pushed behind the gray, L-shaped couch, and the rug was once a maroon colour though it's clear that it's been well-loved over the years. Pillows and throw blankets were carelessly scattered over the couch from when you and your dad had watched '21 Jumpstreet' the night before, he kept saying it was a shame the outbreak happened before they got to make a second one, though many of the jokes didn't land with you, you loved to see your dad laugh so hard he snorted. The room was illuminated by a warm glow from the fairy lights overhead that your dad scavenged years prior, a small stack of books piled up on the coffee table which had been hand-crafted by Joel.

You popped 'Mean Girls' into the DVD player, just to have some background noise and went to the kitchen and started on Sean's cake. As much as you loved the bakery, you wanted to be somewhere a little more close to comfort. 

As you measured each ingredient with care, you couldn't shake the bittersweet feeling that lingered in the air. Sifting the ingredients into the bowl, you had wished your father was home from patrol duty, all you really wanted was a hug but instead, you slaved away at a black forest complete with layers of moist sponge, decadent frosting, and a profusion of vibrant decorations.

As you delicately frosted the cake, your mind flitted between thoughts of the celebration and the poignant fact that everyone seemed to have overlooked your own special day. The kitchen, usually a sanctuary for you to escape to, now harboured the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart, though excited for Sean to get a nice surprise on his Birthday, held an unnoticed longing for acknowledgment.

The aroma of the baking cake filled the kitchen, mingling with the scent of disappointment that you couldn't quite shake.

As the cake took shape, you couldn't help but think back to the calendar at the bakery, where the date circled in red seemed to mock you. Your own birthday, usually a day filled with surprises and the warmth of laughter, had slipped through the cracks of everyone's awareness. Though the night was still young and Ellie had said that she was planning something incredible.

Finally, nine was about to roll around, you changed into some clean clothes that hadn't yet carried the memories of your disappointing day, just a white top and some jeans. The sun had set, and your dad wouldn't be home for a good while so you walked over to the town square alone. 

There was a table full of food and a long banner that read 'Happy Birthday Sean!' strung between two street lamps. There were twinkling fairy lights illuminating what would have otherwise been a dark night. 

"There she is!" Tommy smiled, doing that awkward little dad jog over you. "Wow, that cake looks incredible, mind if I take it off your hands?"

"Go ahead," You held out the cakeboard. Tommy gingerly took it away from your grasp, his forearm underneath to support and his other hand held the side of the board for balance.

"I owe ya' kiddo," He winked before taking the cake away to show a group of adults.

You stood around awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do with yourself.  You turned your attention to the moon, wanting to believe that it shined so very bright just for you, because the moon, unlike everyone else recalled how important this day was to you-

"SURPRISE!" Everyone erupted in cheers as Sean walked up to his party, his daughter had her arm linked with his. He had the biggest smile on his face it almost made you forgive everyone for forgetting because at least Sean got something thoughtful.

"Lord, I was thinking everyone forgot my birthday!" Sean laughed, pulling Tommy in for a hug.

"(y/n)!" Dina yelled, you turned your head to follow her voice. She was sitting at a long picnic table beneath an awning with some friends "Over here," She motioned for you to sit down and you obliged, taking a spot between Ellie and Laila. "What have you been up to? I feel like I haven't seen you all day."

"That's because you haven't," You said with an awkward smile. "I've just been baking, like always."

"You're always working so hard, I swear you live in that bakery and when you aren't in there your busy busting your ass around town to make sure everyone gets something on their birthday," Dina sat across from you and put a hand onto yours "You look out for everyone, but who's looking out for you?"

"My dad?" You glance at Ellie who isn't tuned into the conversation in the slightest, she has her arms crossed in front of her on the table and her head resting on them. 

"Aw, that's sweet-" Kayla moves to look at you but in doing so, she spills a glass of juice onto you. "I'm so sorry," She slaps one hand over her mouth, her eyebrows furrowing. Kayla stood up from the table, her ginger curls rustling with the breeze "I'll get a cloth or something-

"Don't worry about it," I wave her off "It's just clothes, I'll grab some napkins." You push yourself away from the table, walking over to the table adorned with food, you see a small stack of Christmas themed napkins (it must've been hard for them to come by regular ones) and grab a handful, bunching them up in your hand in an attempt to soak up some of the juice that had already indefinitely stained your clothes. 

You feel some eyes on you from the other side of the table, to look up and see Joel, he doesn't say anything though his lips are pressed together tight.

"You're back," You say, a spark of happiness rekindling inside of you "So my dad's back from patrol too?"

Joel nods "Too tuckered to come out, said he was just heading home," He uses tongs to put a couple cuts of chicken onto his plate "Oh and happy birthday, you've probably heard that a whole bunch already, lord, it's all your old man would talk about on our last couple of patrols."

"What did you say?" You look at him with furrowed eyebrows, unsure if he said what you really thought.

"I said happy birthday, shame you've stained your clothes on your birthday," He absentmindedly added some mashed potatoes onto his plate. The words hung in the air, a moment that transcended the boundaries of their usual exchanges. You, momentarily taken aback, met Joel's gaze. It was a simple, earnest wish, uttered with the spontaneity of someone who had remembered a small yet significant detail in the whirlwind of festivity.

"Thank you, Joel," You replied, your voice carrying a mix of surprise and gratitude. In that fleeting instant, the isolation that had surrounded her seemed to dissipate. A connection, however tenuous, had been forged in the acknowledgment of her existence amidst the collective celebration.

"No problem, kid, I'll see you around," He left with his plate leaving you to stand alone at the table. You continued to dab at the juice on your white top, and though you knew it wouldn't come out you proceeded to rub it; the best exchange of your day, no more than eight sentences suddenly turned from joy to frustration. The only two people who remembered your birthday were your dad and a fiftey-eight-year-old man who practically raised the girl you had spent years crushing on, not the girl herself, but her father figure. However, you thought, maybe if Joel remembered, Ellie had aswell and she actually did have something planned.

Amidst the lively chatter and laughter that reverberated through the night, you stood in the midst of flickering candles and colourful decorations, your eyes cast down to the ground. The atmosphere of celebration enveloped her, but a palpable sense of solitude hung in the air like a heavy mist settling upon your shoulders. It was a birthday party, yes, but not your own. Forgotten and overlooked, your heart echoed with a quiet ache, the irony of your situation casting a shadow over the festive scene.

The square was adorned with streamers and balloons, a tapestry of colours that seemed to dance in rhythm with the joyful voices around her. The community gathered, their faces lit by the warm glow of the fairy lights and street lamps, each one caught up in the merriment of the moment. Yet, for you, the celebration felt like a distant spectacle, a scene from which you were detached.

It was your birthday too—a fact that no one cared enough to recall. As Darla (Sean's daughter)  calls guests toward a decadent cake adorned with candles, which you had made, you couldn't escape the bitter irony of the situation. You watched as the room erupted into a chorus of "Happy Birthday," the song meant for another soul, another moment of joy. You joined in, lips forming the familiar words, your voice harmonizing with the collective melody. But within the depths of your being, the celebration rang hollow, a stark contrast to the cheer that echoed around you.

Throughout the evening, you navigated the party with a forced smile, concealing the invisible weight of your emotions. Conversations buzzed like bees in your ears, no- it grated like a fork in a blender, but you found yourself on the outskirts—a silent observer amidst the numerous connections. The laughter that erupted like fireworks, the clinking of glasses, the embraces of old friends—it all seemed distant, an echo from another realm where she once belonged.

The party unfolded as a series of snapshots: a group photo with smiling faces, a toast to Sean, and the opening of gifts that weren't meant for you. Each moment, though vibrant and filled with the warmth of shared camaraderie, magnified the silence that enveloped your own celebration, forgotten and left to dissolve into the shadows.

As the night carried out, seeming like the celebration would never cease, you cut yourself a slice of cake, grabbing one of the half-melted candles that Sean had already blown out, they sat in a frosting-covered pile next to the cake. You took your favourite colour out of the rainbow assortment of candles and stuck it into the piece of black forest cake.

With your cake you sat back down by Ellie at the picnic table where she still returned to after conversing, everyone else had gotten up to dance. You reached for the lighter in your pocket and struck it to ignite, sparks flickered around the end of it, you struck it again and a flame arose, you carefully brought it to the wick of the partially melted candle.

The flickering flame cast a subtle glow as you made a silent wish for understanding, for the beauty found in selflessness, and for the recognition that sometimes the most meaningful celebrations are the ones we craft for others, even in the quiet echoes of our own unacknowledged birthdays. Ellie turned to look at you as the candle's flame danced in the darkness, before you could blow out the candle to solidify your wish a little girl climbed up onto the bench and blew it out, you looked at her and all she did was smile up at you, the gap in her teeth prominent, her deep chocolate hair braided so intricately you had to believe that it must've taken her mother hours.

As much as you wanted to deck that little girl in the face for ruining your moment, you didn't because it would be wildly inappropriate. "Do you want this?" You sighed, holding out the plate to the girl, she smiled and nodded enthusiastically, taking the cake and scattering away "Hey, Ellie," You pushed back tears in your eyes, forcing a smile on your face "Got any plans later?"

“Yeah," She said, short

"Oh, what are they?"

"Not to sound like a cunt but I'm not really in the mood to talk, I had a shit patrol and all I want to do is go home, smoke a joint, watch a movie, maybe read a comic, and pass out on my couch, the only reason I'm here is that Dina dragged me out and Joel said I need to be more involved in the community."

Your smile dropped, you couldn't hold it in anymore, realizing that this wasn't the elaborate setup of a surprise party but Ellie genuinely forgot it was your birthday. "Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember what's happening today?"

"It's Sean's birthday," She gestured to the party around her.

"You're fucking serious," Any amusement that had been in your tone was gone, replaced by a subtle anger boiling up inside of you

"Are you going to cry?" Ellie gave you a weird look "What are you so mad about?"

"I can't believe you," You laugh bitterly "Actually I can, this is so like you, I need to stop building it up in my head that you're going to surprise me with something great. But hey, at least you never fail to let me down."

"Jesus," She scoffed "There's always something going on with you, can you go one day without finding some irrational reason to be upset?"

"Irrational?"

"Yeah, irrational," She reiterated "You always come to me when something sets you off in the slightest then your problem becomes everyone else's. You're so fucking draining and I'm sick of it."

"Fuck you, I hope your comic catches fire from your joint and you burn your place down." You stand up from the bench, wiping tears away from your eyes. Your boots clattered against the cobblestone. You stormed past the dancers, some stopping to look at one another with concern. Dina leaves Jesse to ask Ellie what happened.

The walk home might've been the loneliest you had felt in your life, the harsh wind of the night bit at your nose. The feeling of the sticky juice soaking through your clothing was borderline unbearable, were just about ready to scream. There wasn't a single person out and about as everyone was either at the party or cozied up in their own homes.

Arriving at your doorstep, you fumbled with the handle, the metallic clink resonating in the quietude that enveloped the house. The door swung open, revealing the dimly lit foyer, still no surprise. Why do you still think there is going to be a party? No one is coming.

You wandered into the living room, the TV was lit with the options screen for 'Mean Girls' that you had put on hours earlier.

Sinking into the worn-out couch, You let the weight of the day wash over you. A single tear welled in your eye, and as it escaped, a floodgate of unshed sorrow burst open. The first teardrop traced a silent path down your cheek, leaving a glistening trail of heartache in its wake.

The tears you cried weren't silent and dainty but violent sobs that burned your throat each time you cried out. As you wept, it felt like someone had stabbed your gut with a thousand needles, you cried and cried, to no one in particular, maybe the moon glistening outside the window though the moon seemed to absorb your tears, offering no solace in return.

The soft tick of the clock on the wall echoed in the quiet room, marking the strike of midnight, your birthday had ended. There was no secret party or a prank where everyone was only playing an act, only the emptiness of the house echoed the howls soaked in your tears.

The oak staircase creaked, and your dad turned the corner, peering into the living room. "What's wrong, honey,?" He shook the sleep from his mind, focusing on what was important, he sat next to you on the sofa. "I thought you said you were going to be out all night with your friends?"

You shook your head, breathing shaky breaths alone, hardly able to get a word out "They forgot," You felt the harsh sting of desolation hit you all over again "Everyone forgot," You grabbed his grey t-shirt burying your face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling you gently like you were a child who had just scraped her knee not someone who had just turned nineteen, "Except for Joel, so be nice to him, please."

"I'm sorry, baby, it was probably just a mix-up," He rubbed one hand on your back to comfort you. "I should've been there with you, I'm so sorry."

You couldn't get the words out of your mouth, all you could manage was to shake in your father's arms with sobs until you cried yourself to sleep.

♡

"Happy birthday, Jasmine!" You smile brightly, presenting a lemon-raspberry cupcake to the woman. She was serving breakfast in the mess hall, the early morning light streaming through the many windows, blinding those trying to enjoy their meals.

"Aw, thank you, love" She took the cupcake "That's real sweet," She wore a hairnet, despite having short cropped hair. "I just realized I don't even know when your birthday is."

"It was yesterday, actually."

"Aww, how was it?" Jasmine smiled, her white teeth contrasting with her dark skin.

"It was nice, it was quiet too, I just spent it by myself."

A frown replaced Jasmine's smile and she lowered her tone "Did your friends drop the ball?"

You wave off her question "Oh no, loads of people remembered, I just wanted some time to myself, it was nice."

You could tell Jasmine didn't wholeheartedly believe you, she was at Sean's party last night and saw you rush out with tears building in your eyes "If you say so," She shrugged, taking a bite of her cupcake "This is really good."

"Thanks," A small smile plays on your lips.

"God bless you, sweetheart, you deserve the best." She said, every bit of truth behind her words. She took another bite of the cupcake, savouring the sweet and sour taste "And I mean that."

You were too caught up in conversation to notice Jesse ahead of you in the service line right away, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the dispenser, trying to play cool and not have your attention drawn to him. With a shaky hand, he put the glass on his tray and hurried over to the table where Ellie was eating with Dina. "Guys, something not that great just happened."

Ellie furrowed her eyebrows looking from Dina to Jesse "What?" She asked through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, she swallowed them down and spoke back up "Please tell us what terrible thing has happened in the time it took you to walk to the service line, get your food and come back?" Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

"We forgot (y/n)'s birthday," He said quickly, Ellie and Dina looked at each other with wide eyes, thinking back to the night before and the way they had both behaved. Dina was extremely ignorant and Ellie got into an argument with you, though Jesse didn't speak to you at all.

"We're awful friends," Dina says quietly, scraping her mind for any way they could salvage the situation and play it off like they hadn't forgotten. "We could change all of the calendars in town and make it seem like her birthday is actually today."

"Be serious, Dina," Jesse said, though he was considering her idea. "I think the only way we can fix this is by making it up to her."

"How would we do that? We can't make it up to her, she remembers every single person's birthday in this town and gives them a cupcake, even people she doesn't like, do you remember how she planned all of our birthday parties for the last four years and has never let us down?" Dina and Jesse nodded "And how we always scramble something together last minute? Like last year, we only remembered two days before and we threw her a subpar movie night, we watched Star Wars and she doesn't even like Star Wars."

Dina sucked air through her teeth "Yeah, not our best moment."

"You think?" Jesse asked, sarcastically. "And Ellie didn't make it any better by yelling at her yesterday!"

"You yelled at her? You told me you didn't yell at her,"  Dina whipped her head to look at Ellie, the smallest glimpse of judgment in her eyes. "Shh, she's coming!"

You were making your way to the exit lugging the cart that had held loaves of bread on it before you dropped them off to the kitchen, still in your flour-covered apron, hair pinned up messy, baby hairs flying away. Clad in jeans, a green T-shirt and beaten-up boots, clacking against the hardwood floor, you still looked beautiful to Ellie with red eyes and a puffy face from crying all night. "Watch this," Jesse murmured to the group before turning around and flagging you down. "Hey (y/n)!" He smiled brightly, his words catching your attention "Did you enjoy your birthday, yesterday?"

"Jesse, I know you heard me talking to Jasmine." You said and Ellie couldn't bear the disappointed look on your face. At that moment, the guilt hit her all at once. You had been the first kid her age that she warmed up to when she arrived in Jackson, trying your best to include her in everything. You invited her to hang out with your friends even though she didn't particularly get along with them, she went anyway because she just wanted to see you. On her birthday the previous year, you had scoped out an old comic store hours away just to bring her there for one day.

Jesse's smile fell and you had walked out the door before he had the chance to push a lie through his teeth. Last night's conversation echoed through Ellie's head over and over again, she cringed at the memory, god, why did she even say that?

Dina reached over the table and gave Ellie a harsh smack on the arm "Why did you even say that?!" 

"Ow," She flinched, rubbing the spot that had been assaulted by Dina "What are you talking about?"

Dina looked at Ellie like she was just about ready to scream "What you said to her last night, what was going through your head?"

"Not much, apparently," Jesse answered for her, earning a death glare from the Auburn girl.

"I'll just apologize and it'll be water under the bridge," Ellie said, leaning back.

"That's not going to work," Dina replied quickly.

It, in fact, did not work. Ellie had shown up at the bakery where you promptly ignored her. "(y/n), I'm really sorry I forgot your birthday and said those things to you." Nothing Ellie said could get you to even look at her.

She had later stopped by your house, it was your dad who answered the door and Ellie sheepishly asked if you were home. He called for you to come down, the moment you saw Ellie, you shut the door in her face. There was no way she could defend herself, she couldn't say that she said those things because she had a bad day (even though she did), and that would just make her seem pathetic. She really wanted to say that she was scared of how much she liked you, she didn't want to ruin a good thing, you both had spent years playing the role of each other's best friend until Ellie started to distance herself from you and you ended up enwrapping yourself with work to distract yourself from the fact that she was drifting away.

Ellie didn't know what to do, if she didn't act fast, it would be too late and she was going to lose you.

♡

One week later

The sun was just beginning to set as you were already preparing to settle into bed and read a book, just about to change out of your floor-length sundress and into one of your dad's old shirts. However, your plans were interrupted when you heard your dad screaming downstairs, it was blood-curdling. You dropped everything, pulling your bedroom door open and rushing down the stairs, tripping on a step and stumbling before quickly regaining balance and moving with haste "Dad?" You called out, worry running through your head. 

"SURPRISE!" People practically screeched, the volume so loud that you jolted back in fear. The chatter only grew as you looked around you and realized what was happening, this was your belated birthday party. 

You were pulled in suddenly for a hug, squeezing you so tight you thought your eyes would pop out of your skull was Tommy "I'm so sorry, kiddo, I was being a real shithead on your birthday."

"It's okay," You choked out, nearly gasping for air. Much to your relief, he released you and you took a deep breath.

"Happy belated birthday!" Dina sang, placing a fat box in your arms. Many people followed after her, piling gifts on top of the initial one, you were quickly losing balance, so you stumbled into the living room and put the gifts onto the coffee table. There was so much life in the living room it was almost hard to believe that just a week before you had been crying alone, bathed in moonlight. 

There were streamers strung throughout your house and odd dangly decorations that hung from the ceiling. Some balloons were taped to the walls while others bounced around the ground.

The lively hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the melodic strains of birthday wishes filled the room as the party pulsated with energy. Colourful decorations adorned the walls, and the air was charged with the festive spirit.

 You had the biggest smile on your face while everyone joked and jeered. Shoving their gifts into your face, trying to get you to open them first. It had made you forget about how awful your real birthday was, though you did try to dodge awkward apologies of people fumbling over their own words to make up excuses as to why they missed your real birthday.

"Happy birthday to you-" A voice began singing, and soon enough the entire crowd joined in, harmonizing into an off-key rendition of the birthday song. They made way for the person carrying the cake which had been none other than Ellie herself. The song ended off and Ellie placed the cake in front of you on the coffee table. "Make a wish."

You blew out all of the candles, and no punchable little girl around to steal your thunder, the room erupted into applause. The celebration continued with the living room becoming a dance floor, laughter echoing through the corridors, and conversations flowing freely. The cake itself reminded you of the embroidery your dad had done on your apron, it was sloppy and imperfect but you could tell it was made with love, the icing had been put on prematurely and had partially melted off the cake. It read 'Happy birthday' with 'Sorry for being a dick' written smaller beneath the first bit of text.

"Thank you, Ellie," You smiled softly up at her.

No one else was paying attention to you anymore, aside from those who wanted a slice of cake. Ellie nervously fumbled around with her hands "Do you want to dance?"

Ellie invited you to dance as the opening notes of the song floated through the air and she held out her hand. With a gentle smile, you accepted and you moved into the middle of the living room to form a makeshift dance floor. The soft aroma of fresh flowers blended with the scent of vanilla candles created an ambiance that enhanced the moment's sensory magic.

To the gentle beat of the song, your bodies moved in unison. Your hand settled comfortably on Ellie's shoulder, and her hand wrapped around your waist. Your bond transcended the material in the living room dance, an unspoken language of mutual feelings and unknown depths.

You both danced, recklessly, so much so that you were nearly a hazard for the swaying couples drifting around you, moving faster and not hurriedly as the tempo picked up. With each step, the living room's walls became silent witnesses to a romance that was developing on the plush carpet under their feet. The muted rustle of your clothing and the melodic notes of the music were all that could be heard to your ears.

The two of you took great pleasure in the dance's exuberance, laughing at the imperfect nature of it. In the noise of the living room, your eyes, locked in a dance of their own, spoke volumes. You were embraced by the dim lighting's vulnerability, which freed you from the burdens of the outside world to fully enjoy the moment. 

Ellie guided you in a soft spin as the song went on, your moves were not fluid and elegant but Ellie could've sworn that looking into your eyes made it feel like there was liquid sunlight coursing through your veins

You and Ellie drew closer in the song's last moments, your bodies pressed together in an embrace that went beyond the material. As the last notes of the music faded, they held each other for an extra moment, relishing the warmth that they shared and the unspoken promises that danced between them. You wished that you could've stayed in Ellie's strong embrace for centuries.

You let go of Ellie, taking a step back with a smile, "Why didn't you tell me you were such a good dancer?" You tease, almost out of breath.

"I didn't know I was," She grinned, taking the sight of you in. Your cheeks were flushed and your hair had become messy, she thought you to be beautiful all the same, if not more. Her eyes raked over your body, your floor-length sundress and mismatched socks "And here I was thinking it was too late for sundresses."

"It's never too late, Ellie."

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #slow burn #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #Ellie Williams X reader angst #angst #fluff #ellie x fem reader #mean!ellie #tlou #super slow burn

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

A drop of your love

request: can I please request a lucien x reader fic? where they're "just friends" and lucien has a rough day. to help him feel better she prepares a bath for him and washes his hair and back (scars from under the mountain still shining there), all while giving him soft kisses on his cheeks, neck and ears, whispering how much he's beautiful and how much she loves him.

a/n it's my first ever Lucien story so go easy on me but also enjoy. 🤍✨

warnings: scars, mention of murder, blood, torture, trauma.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The kitchen felt stuffy and warm, despite the rain pouring outside. Eight other females were twirling around the place. Pot lids were clacking, and the sound and steam of boiling stews and sauces steeped into the smallest of places. It was nearing dinner time, so the commotion was a usual thing. Yet in the midst of it all, you managed to find peace in kneading the dough and shaping it into little loaves before carving delicate leaf shapes into each.

"They're back", the voice rang through the door as Maria, the youngest, ran in, making the older woman pick up their work and ordering whoever was assigned to help them to work more swiftly. You were just finishing up putting the loaves in the oven when you felt the presence of someone beside you. "It looked bad. Worse than the past two times", Maria's voice was low and cautious. Gossiping about anything was forbidden. Even more so when it came to the high lord and his family. There wasn't a thing that Beron did wrong in his own eyes, so everyone was to believe that as well. Many had lost their tongues for a word or two said at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Was he on his own?", you asked while wiping your hands onto the apron, keeping your head turned in the complete opposite direction from the girl. So your mouth moving could be mistaken for you just muttering recipes under your breath. "Lord Eris was beside him", you frowned. That was not what you expected, especially if the situation was bad. Eris was Beron's pride and joy, at least in front of the court's eyes. Mother only knew how many times you had washed the blood out of his clothes and brought him remedies for the bruises. But he was initialed to take the throne one day, and so that gave his father more than one opportunity to make him fight for that spot like a wild animal, urging the rest of the brothers to attack and try to take Eris out.

"Y/N, you're asked for", your head instantly turned to the guard calling out your name. Wasting no time, you shrugged your dirty apron off, reaching for an already prepared jug of wine before rushing up the stairs. By the laws that Beron ruled by, you belong to Eris. A price. A gift, if you will. From his father himself, after they burned the village that wanted to rebel against the high lord. Dragged by the hair to the main mansion. Forced to kiss the high lord's feet as a thank you for taking you in. Not all females made it here. Most were butchered and left to rot. Only the prettiest and most fertile were brought in.

"My lord", you said, knocking on Eris's chamber doors carefully, waiting for his approval before walking inside. The place was dimly lit. You didn't dare lift your hand. Eris didn't like to be gawked at. Time spent away from his father was sacred to him. He got so little of it. Never enough. "As pleased as I am to see your face, petal, I'd prefer if you sought Lucien out", his words made you still in your place. Usually, Eris was way more subtle about how he approached this subject.

Back then, Beron let his sons pick the girls they wanted. And it wasn't Eris who picked you. No, it was Lucien. But Beron despised Lucien with everything that he had. So the moment the youngest made a choice, the high lord burst out laughing. Mocking the fact that he even thought that he had the right to pick anything at all. And because he wanted to cause Lucien more harm and show him even more that he wasn't ever going to get what he wanted, he gave you away to Eris instead.

"Is it… bad?", You cleared your throat, settling the jug onto the side table. You two had formed a weird sort of friendship through the years. Eris was a good male, even if he was forced to portray this cruel creature. Regardless of his father's urging, he never bedded you, never force you into anything you didn't want to, and besides his little anger outbursts, he never shouted at you either. "You women gossip around, so what would you say?", the lord said bitterly, making your cheeks turn crimson. "My apologies, my lord", you said quickly, hoping to not get Maria in trouble for any of it.

Eris rubbed a hand over his face and said, "Go to him, will you?", you nodded your head quickly, bowing one more time before turning to leave. This wasn't an unusual practice. Eris saw the way Lucien's face dropped when his father dragged you and shoved you into Eris's arms, "Yours to keep or kill, son". He celebrated you as his win in front of everyone's eyes, but the moment the door to his chamber closed, you saw a completely different person in front of you. Someone who cared, someone who loved deeply but couldn't show it. It was Eris who arranged your and Lucien's first proper meeting. He sent you to his cabin to fetch an old book with court documents; however, what you found there instead was Lucien. Fumbling with a lira in his hands. So lost in the sound of music that he didn't even hear you. He never played in the main villa, but in the safety of his brother's cabin, he must have felt safe.

Pressing both of your palms onto the cold wall, you pushed slightly. You couldn't enter Lucien's chamber from the hallway. Folks around the villa gossiped too much, and now that Beron was getting out of hand, everyone was looking for the smallest misbehavior so they could run off to the high lord and prove their loyalty that way. "Shouldn't you be with my brother?", Lucien's voice greeted you before you had even fully stepped into the room. "Tia is of more use to him now", you said rather bluntly, before forcing the passage back closed and wiping the dust onto your skirt. You turned to the red-haired male, who looked as pale as the paper. So Maria was right; it was indeed bad.

"Lucien", you muttered softly. You two had grown closer. Call it an instant connection back at the village after the slaughter. Or maybe it was the fact that you had found comfort in one another's presence through the years. You weren't a servant to him. There were no titles when you were together. It was just Y/N and Lucien. Eris's cabin was where you met most of the time. Some evenings, instead of tending to Eris privately, you were let off to spend the night with his brother instead. Yet even in the beauty of the moment, you never let yourself forget how whatever had been blooming in your chest would never become a reality.

"It's okay. Just… need to", the youngest of the Vanserras shook his head, pulling at the strings of his cloak, which he forgot to take off once he stepped into the room. His clothes were dirty. Dried blood still coated his skin, even if he tried to wash it off. "Should I run you a bath?", you asked, keeping your voice warm and gentle as you stepped closer. Lucien said nothing, moving to reach for your wrist so he could pull you closer to him. He wrapped a hand around your back, guiding you down onto his lap. You carefully cupped his face, tilting your head to the side, hoping to catch his eyes.

"It was the usual", Lucien touched your wrists, pulling them away from him, as if trying to keep you away from the filth that he was coated in. That still lingered. "Just this time he made us slotted children", your heart fell. Lucien was indeed the softest of them all, and not in a weak way; he had a good heart. Something that was looked down on in this court. He had a heart that cared. A heart that considered others' feelings. Beron had tried to choke out that part of his youngest for a while, but it didn't work. And the more Lucien cared, the more Beron wanted to make his life a burning hell.

"I sent Pipper to bury them. If father won't catch them…", but this time you captured his face, pressing your forehead to his. "You are not to blame; you are not like him", you whispered. Cautious of your surroundings but wanting nothing more than to pluck all the bad thoughts away. Lucien turned his face slightly to the side, brushing his lips over the inside of your palm. "You will never be like him", you knew words could be hard in moments like this. And how could they not? With a sigh, Lucien stuttered, "But what if…", You shook your head instantly, "There are no what-ifs, Lu". The years you two spent getting to know each other had proven to you over and over again that he was nothing like his father or brothers. Lucien's love ran deep. He was strong-willed and fearless when needed, but just as much, he brought a shield of calmness and that autumn coziness with him.

"What?", You had been lying in the field of flowers with Lucien the whole evening. Tia had offered to cover for you back in the villa. You two had been looking up at clouds, pointing out shapes, and making up stories. It felt calming and easy. So easy, it almost scared you. And then a giggle slipped past Lucien's lips as he shook his head. "Nothing", he muttered, his eyes not leaving you. You nervously brushed your fingers through your hair, fearing that something might be tangled in it,"That's not fair now".

However, Lucien giggled softly anyway. You playfully shoved at his chest, "Tell me", you pleaded, "Why are you smiling like that?". Lucien reached out, threading his fingers through your hair carefully. "You", he muttered, your heart skipped a beat right as he spoke up again, "Still don't know why Mother would send you to me". His voice sounded more like a whisper. As if he was scared for someone to hear it. For someone to make the happiness disappear. You cupped his face, leaning closer to him. "Good hearts call out to other good hearts, Lu".

You smiled at the memory as you brought the autumn male closer to your chest. Waiting for the shakes to ease. Knowing that pushing him around now wasn't going to get you anywhere So you stayed put. Letting him soak up the warmth and smell of your body. For Lucien, you were a haven. Autumn wasn't his home; you were. You've been there since the moment he saw you. No one had truly shown him kindness until you came along. No one had taken the time to get to know him. To let him be himself. Lucien had been heading down a dangerous route back then. Beron had been close to bending his will. But then you came around. And something shifted.

"How about I make you a nice bath? You know, with lavender…", You brushed a kiss over the top of Lucien's head, rubbing your hands up and down his back. Yet his grip on you only tightened, "I will stay close by and will brush your hair. We can even braid it", it felt almost silly how you were trying to bribe him into it, but you knew that affection was what he truly needed. "Four plats?", he asked, making you let out a soft chuckle. "Whatever you want, fireboy".

The bath chamber was filled with steam. At this point, you were convinced that Lucien was close to boiling himself in that bathtub. You let him get undressed before you walked back in. Thankful for the stuffy room, it hid your rosy cheeks, which had turned crimson at the sight of Lucien's naked chest. You've seen him shirtless before. Mother… You two had made out in the stables once. You had let go of all your boundaries. That one time you let yourself dive headfirst into whatever was blooming deep within you.

"Hot baths are fun, but how about we don't cook you alive?", your much colder hands pressed down onto Lucien's shoulders. You let your fingers wander across his skin, kneading the tense muscles. Lucien let out a growl of satisfaction. Hands gripping the side of the tub once your fingers found a particularly painful knot. "How you do this is beyond me,", he muttered, and you couldn't help the smile that tugged on your lips. "Braking bread is no joke", you laughed under your breath. "I never doubted your skilled hands", Lucien practically purred, causing your cheeks to heat some more.

You reached for a cloth, dipping it into the water before moving it over Lucien's back. A light frown suddenly tinted your eyes as you once again turned to the scars that painted Lucien's skin. It never failed to make you feel this burning pain in your chest. No matter how many times you saw them. Lucien was weary of showing them to you at first. You only got to see them when he stubbornly hid them from you after the latest beating from his father, getting them infected and causing a fever to break out. You nursed him for a couple of weeks while he remained practically unconscious as he lay on his stomach. You had never been so scared in your life.

You ran the damp cloth over his back a couple of times until your hand stilled. Your brain was telling you to stop, but your heart fought back harder. So you leaned in, dipping your head lower as your lips brushed over Lucien's shoulder once, then over his shoulder blade. You let your fingers dance over the grooves of the scars before accompanying the touch with your lips. You knew that he hated this cruel reminder, but to you, this was a part of him that you wished he could learn to love. This wasn't a sign of weakness. This was a sign that he survived.

"I love you", those words slipped past your lips dangerously quickly. A gasp followed right away when the realization hit. "What?", Lucien turned your way. You two had grown closer. Way closer for it to just be called friends, but you never let yourself think of it. "You… What did you say?", Lucien had shifted inside the tub so he could face you. You shook your head, moving to pull away, but Lucien grasped your wrist gently. "Y/N", you knew, that wasn't a demand. If you wanted, you could leave. He wouldn't hold you back, but you couldn't. Not when his desperation filled the room. You could sense his emotions. All of a sudden, they were all around you, and you couldn't feel anything else. A golden thread glistened all of a sudden. Catching both of your attention. A breath hitched in your throat. "I love you", you muttered once again carefully, and the gold seemed to beam.

Lucien practically jumped out; of the bath, causing you to quickly turn your head to the side and for him to lower his hands. A nervous chuckle left your lips. You felt his arms around your shoulders; next, he was still dripping but he didn't care. Pulling away from you slightly, Lucien pushed a finger under your chin, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "You love me?", he whispered. You bit down on your lip. A part of you screamed that this was wrong, wrong but the mating bond danced around you. Happy and satisfied now that you have finally acknowledged it. You didn't trust your words, simply nodded your head. Lucien did the same, mimicking the movement. "My gorgeous girl", his fingers cupped your face as he leaned his forehead onto yours, "I always knew it would be you".

Your bottom lip quivered, your hands restted on his hips as you moved to stand even closer to him. Lucien ran his fingers over your lips gently. "Say it again", he urged you. "I need to hear you say it again", a tear ran down your cheek as you stepped onto your tippy toes. Cupping Lucien's face as you leaned closer, you whispered, "I love you, Lucien, with all that I am" right by his lips. Lucien let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes for a moment before crashing his lips against yours. For a kiss that said it all. The kiss was more than just the aftermath of an emotional moment. It was a promise. A plea for love. A chance for Lucien to finally get a glimpse of what true happiness looked like.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

All acotar writing taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @cityofidek @baebeepeach @lucyysthings @hideing @urfavbrunettebish @historygeekqueen @marina468 @courtofjurdan

#lucien vanserra x reader #lucien x reader #lucien x you #lucien vanserra imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar #lucien vanserra

[big19boss-blog]

Cale Cooking!

So, this a canon I have always imagined. It’s mentioned in the TCF that Cale knows how to cook Korean food from his Kim Rok Soo days. But I imagine Cale to be an excellent cook because he always undermines himself. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s not always that Beacrox is ill but even he fell ill after the strenuous fighting season was over. The children wished to cook something for him and were creating a mess in the kitchen, so Cale decided to shoo them out and take over the cooking while Rosalyn and CH cleans the mess and Ron runs an errand in the village. 

So, Cale decides to take matters into his own hands. 

Cale: Enough! All children out of the kitchen, now.

Roan: Human NOOOOOO!

Hong: Yess we want to cook Beacrox Uncle!!!

On: We would really love to give him something homemade.

Cale sighs. 

Cale: Okay I will cook, and you all will help when I tell you too.

Cale got to work, he thought that a quick soup with some fresh bread and some hot coco would be enough. So he got to work, he kneaded the bread out of the left-over flour. He asked Roan and Hong to slowly control the heat around the melting chocolate, Choi Han to cut the vegetables and meat, Rosalyn to pre heat the oven with magic and On to get run to the underground house and bring some spice they got from the east. 

Over the course of the next 1 hour he collected all the food in enough quantities to fulfill the small town they house at here at the Black Castle. The loaves were baking, soup was simmering, the hot coco was being filled in glasses for everyone's easy access. 

Eventually he prepared one plate with all the food and told the children to give it to Beacrox. 

Roan: You are not coming with us Human?

Cale: No, I don’t want to get catch whatever bug he has.

He then turned and left the kitchen. But everyone knew that despite that rude response how carefully he has made each item. 

When Ron tasted the food, he knew instantly it wasn’t someone who has cooked for the first time. But the food was so healing, the rich but light taste of soup, the airy and slightly sour bread and the subtly sweet hot coco, that he didn’t question it much. He never knew his tiger young master could cook so well. 

But the fact brings him peace that when he is gone and someone forgets to feed his Young Master, he can cook for himself.

The Children enjoyed the food so much that they ran again and again to the kitchen to sneak multiple helpings even late after dinner was over. Choi Han was almost nostalgic for a second remembering the young, malnourished Kim Rok Soo. 

Cale after years of eating just enough actually ate more than necessary for once, enjoying the taste of his own food after years and getting a little lost in olden days. 

#tcf #trash of the counts family #trash of the duke's family #Cale Henituse #tcf cale #kim rook soo #kim rok soo #tcfroan #tcf on #tcf hong #tcf ron #tcf choi han #tcf rosalyn #tcf beacrox #tcf imagines #tcf cannon #tcf crack

[mxlfoydraco]

What are the sweetest, most fluffy, most tender fic recs you have? Hurt/comfort préférable but anything works

I'm a major angst reader so our definitions of fluff may vary! I'm adding on to these lists: Fluff & Hogwarts Era Fluff

Save My Wonders by @unmistakablyoatmeal(21k)

Immediately chocolate assaulted Draco’s senses. Warm melted chocolate mixed with his mother’s roses and… something else. Something new. Freshly scrubbed skin and maybe a faint sheen of sweat. It was so familiar… And it only intensified when Potter came up behind him.

Two of Us by @sorrybutblog (5k)

The gang goes to a gay bar. Or: five times Harry accidentally pretended to be Draco’s boyfriend and one time Draco told him to put out or shut up.

All Things Go by @sorrybutblog (32k)

Draco’s back at Hogwarts by court order. Harry’s back for no particular reason at all. Some things change, some stay the same. Neither expects to spend eighth-year living in close quarters, playing rugby (poorly), staying up late, sneaking around, and finally figuring it all out.

Quick as a Flash of Lightning, Unhurried as Eternity by @onbeinganangel (10k)

Can you fall in love with someone by simply watching them fiercely love another version of yourself?

Knead by @jovialobservationanchor (83k)

This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

the treehouse near primrose downs by @softlystarstruck (14k)

Draco and Harry have been roommates for years, so buying a magical house in the countryside shouldn’t be a big difference. But in between fresh loaves of bread and beds of wildflowers, things start to fall into place.

you bring me home by @softlystarstruck (35k)

Harry is happy. He has his cat cafe and his hobbies. He has his friends, and Dolly Parton, and a shirt with a cowboy frog on it. It’s all a man needs, really. He doesn’t need to obsess over a magic-less, anxious Draco Malfoy coming into his cafe after disappearing from the wizarding world years ago. He doesn’t. Not even if the cats like Malfoy. Not even if Malfoy is soft, and funny, and a little bit neurotic. No matter how much he wants to obsess.

With Great Yawns and Stretchings by @sugar-screw (22k)

The coffee is very good. Really. And the cats are so cute. That's why Harry goes so often.

I Think I Want to Marry You by @phdmama (6k)

5 times Harry Potter asks Draco Malfoy to marry him and Draco doesn't answer. And then the one time he does.

Meddling, Menswear, and Magic by @writcraft (18k)

Draco Malfoy is working in a job he hates and avoiding the magical world entirely, but he really is fine. When a bequest from Severus Snape brings Draco back to a much-changed magical world, he must find his place within it and navigate his growing attraction to Harry Potter in the process.

Constellations on your skin by @orange-peony (56k)

“I’m going to get my scars removed,” Draco announces on a rainy Wednesday afternoon. “Who are you seeing?” Blaise asks. “The best Healer out there,” Draco replies with a little shrug. “Harry Potter.”

Sweeten to Taste by @saintgarbanzo (51k)

It starts with Draco's buckwheat crepes with honeyed oranges. Or maybe it starts with his porridge with toasted walnuts and homemade apple butter. Or perhaps it starts with the cinnamon buns Draco made from scratch with mascarpone icing. Harry just knows he's hungry for more.

The Little Marauders Nursery and Day Care by @digthewriter (9k)

Harry Potter is the proud owner of The Little Marauders Nursery and Day Care and his favourite student is Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius’s dad might be okay, too.

Sourdough by @academicdisasterfic (17k)

Draco writes romance novels and doesn't leave his apartment much. Harry bakes bread and sells it to Draco. Draco is quite weird. Harry might like that.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken (19k)

Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved! So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship. (An unnamed ginger bastard can be heard yelling from afar: “This is actually a detailed guide on how not to court someone!”) But who cares about the opinions of redheads? Literally no one.

Nice Things by aideomai (22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by @dorthyanndrarry (5k)

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

Stay (With Me) by @dorthyanndrarry (6k)

Harry and Draco have been seeing each other casually, whenever they bumped into one another at Galas and Balls and other social events, always keeping one another at a careful distance. But one step forward seems to remove all space between them, sending them crashing together with an almost inevitable gravity.

If It Takes All Night by @tackytigerfic (10k)

It's not the first time Harry's been the victim of a botched curse (that's one of the reasons he doesn't like crowds), but he feels bad that Malfoy had to get caught up in it too. So they're bonded. That's ok, they just have to make sure to be touching at all time. No problem. Because Malfoy smells so nice, and has such lovely shiny hair, and his skin is so very warm. But this isn't going to be a problem for their friendship at all. Is it, Harry?

Espresso Patronum by @tasteofshapes (15k)

When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.

The Charm Conundrum by dysonrules (8k)

Harry misplaces an interesting "self-help" manual. Draco finds it and discovers some fascinating insights into Harry Potter.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by @greaseonmymouth (96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry. Features: Little League Quidditch, an abundance of bath bombs, happy endings, and gay robots in space.

Harry Potter’s biggest fan by @gnarf (9k)

Ever since Scorpius heard about Harry Potter for the first time from one of his friends, one could say that he was his biggest fan. So naturally, it would be the thing he needs to talk about while visiting his grandparents for Sunday dinner. Draco’s father could not hold back the comments on why he had to go through this again, and Scorpius understood just enough to know that his father actually knew Harry Potter in person. That’s when the pestering started. Not much later and Draco found himself face to face with Potter, all thanks to his son.

Sunseeker by @shiftylinguini (15k)

Harry is a struggling writer. Namely, he is struggling with: writing his next book, dealing with his agent, finding a decent tea strainer, fielding his friend's concern over the aforementioned book, and figuring out who the cat loitering in his garden belongs to. He also has a slight liking-Malfoy problem. Okay, he has a massive liking-Malfoy problem.

All Roads Lead Home by dracogotgame (14k)

Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.

Draco Malfoy Absolutely Does Not Need to Be Loved by Harry Bloody Potter by @nv-md (18k)

It’s not easy to be bonded to your childhood rival, turned fuckbuddy, who you also have extremely uncomfortable but repressed feelings for—just ask Draco Malfoy.

Nyctophilia by prolonged_autumn (107k)

Everyone's back for 8th year, and Harry and his friends seem determined to spend their last year in school running around at night, hyped up on coffee and alcohol and Honeydukes candy, doing all the childish things they didn't have the chance to do before. Draco watches as he's always watched: from afar, quiet and bitter and hopelessly in love. That is, until Pansy decides she's had quite enough of it.

#this list got eaten by tumblr halfway done and i re-did it that deserves a medal in my very unbiased opinion #drarry #drarry fic #drarry fic rec #drarry reclist #draco malfoy #drarry fic recs #my recs #fic recs #hpdm #harry potter #fluff #drarry fluff

[sotwk]

The Baker from Lórien (Haldir gen ficlet)

Summary: A visitor from Lórien brings some excitement to the kitchens of the Elvenking's palace.

Word count: 1.1k

Content: Pure fluffy randomness, mother-son relationship, toddler Legolas

Rating: General (no warnings apply)

To Read on AO3: Link

A/N: I wrote this ficlet purely on a whim; I had no plans or strategy for it going in. It could be nonsense, or I could be onto something. XD It's most likely going to stay a random SotWK AU one-shot, but who knows. I pretty much just wanted to finally write any story featuring Haldir, whom I love dearly and firmly believe was one of the most desired bachelors east of the Mountains. Special thanks to my friend @creativity-of-death who inspired the concept of a Baker Haldir long ago!

Headcanons about Haldir in the SotWK AU: Any questions you might have about the background history in this fic would be answered HERE.

The Baker from Lórien

Third Age 246 Spring

Bar Lasgalen, the Palace of the Elvenking

“Down and forward, turn, and fold over. Repeat. Remember to use the heel of your hand--this part, right here.”

The lump of dough felt pleasantly squishy in Legolas’s hands, and only with great self-restraint did the four-year-old elfling manage to resist playing with it like modeling clay, instead of following his instructor’s example. With eyes narrowed in determined concentration, he watched the steadily working hands of the elf across the table from him. After just a minute or so of observation, he began to mimic the brisk kneading motion.

“Yes, good! That is very good.” The visitor from Lórien seemed pleased, albeit surprised, by how quickly the child caught on.  

Legolas beamed at the ellon’s praise, and held the smooth ball of dough up high over his head in triumph. “Is it ready for the oven now?”

“Not quite.” The silver-haired ellon took the dough from Legolas and checked it with a few expert prods of his fingers. “It needs time to rest and rise. An hour at least, although up to three is much better, and then we can reshape it into loaves. Then it must rest again, before it can be baked.” 

“Three hours?!” Legolas exclaimed, already dismissive of whatever other steps came after. “Does bread really take that long to make every time?”

“The loaves should be fresh and hot out of the oven just in time for your Highness’s breakfast.” Legolas watched as his dough ball was placed into a large pan next to five others and covered with a dish cloth.  

“And a delicious breakfast is best preceded by a sound night’s sleep, is it not?” The voice that came from the kitchen doorway made Legolas scramble off his stool. He smiled sheepishly at his nursemaid, Ninniel, as she entered with a knowing smile and firm shake of her head for him.

The older ellon spoke up. “My apologies, Emmë. I should have realized the hour was too late.”

“It’s all right. It appears some valuable learning has been accomplished here, at least.” Ninniel took in the rather comical sight of her grown son towering next to her not-at-all-grown charge, both of them dusted in flour, and felt all her exasperation melt away. She dipped a tea towel into the washing basin and set to work wiping the sticky residue off Legolas’s fingers. 

“Will you come and get me when my loaf is finished baking, Halidr?”

“Well…” Haldir of Lórien glanced hesitantly at his mother. He was still unsure what to make of Thranduil’s sons, who all behaved without any regard or perhaps even awareness of their social rank. Legolas, in particular, had been unabashed in his fascination with Haldir ever since his arrival at Bar Lasgalen. Today was merely the first day of a month-long, overdue visit to his parents, and most of it had passed with the little prince turning up wherever Haldir happened to be, armed with a constant stream of questions. “It really is not my place to--”

“When your bread comes out of the oven, I will wake you to come and have it for  breakfast, with me and Haldir,” Ninniel interjected smoothly. “But the sooner you get to bed, the sooner you can rise refreshed for a new day, yes?”

“That sounds excellent!” Legolas threw his hands up, and wriggled his hips in a little sort of dance. “I shall be back in a few hours, Haldir! Please take care of my bread!” he called out to the bemused elf before bounding out the door. 

“Are you still finding everything all right, dearest?” Ninniel swept a light hand over her son’s broad back. In one touch she could tell Haldir was fairly relaxed, as she had hoped he would gradually become. Her eldest had always been the most serious of her children, and his nature only grew graver as the ages passed and the memories of hard years weighed on him. It had been far too long since his last visit to Eryn Galen, so rarely could he be persuaded to leave his post at the March, and Ninniel hoped the brief holiday away would be restful for his spirit. 

“Yes, everyone here at the palace has been… quite attentive.” Haldir smiled and planted a swift kiss over his mother’s hair. “The prince’s arrival sent them scurrying off, I fear, but I do not think he seemed to mind or notice.”

Ninniel shook her head. “The only thing they were running from was their own embarrassment,” she said. “I will let you return to your work, my love. Legolas and I will be back soon.”

And indeed, as soon as she exited the kitchen, she encountered the gaggle of young kitchen maids waiting in the hall, preparing to re-enter now that the royal Highness had left and gone to bed. 

“Lady Ninniel,” they curtsied to her, appearing only mildly abashed by her witness to their obvious intentions. But this was a small phenomenon Ninniel had grown accustomed to over the years, for it became clear early on that her handsome son elicited rather strong reactions from elleths, often without any encouragement. 

“My lady, if we may…” one of the girls blurted out. “We were wondering… that is, we wanted to make certain… do you know whether or not Lord Haldir…”

“He is not a lord, and he would not appreciate being addressed as one,” Ninniel corrected gently. “And as far as I know, he is not engaged, involved, or taken with anyone at present.” She gazed at the line of hopeful faces and pressed her lips to smother a chuckle. “Any of you are welcome to try and draw his interest, if that is your wish.”

But best of luck, indeed. Ninniel sighed as she departed, leaving the sounds of pitchy giggling behind her as the pack descended on her oblivious son. Whether there was any chance of a maiden in all of the Woodland Realm catching Haldir of Lórien’s eye, much less his elusive heart, she did not know. That hope had certainly not borne any fruit in over a thousand years of matchmaking attempts. But any diversion, any added source of joy outside of his work, his books, or his baking, could only be a good thing. 

Anything beyond that--dare say a betrothal, a marriage, or even a new precious grandchild--was something Ninniel was prepared to be completely surprised with. But a mother will always hope.

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#sotwk fanfiction #haldir #haldir of lorien #haldir of lothlorien #the hobbit #lotr #tolkien #legolas #thranduil headcanon #greenwood the great #sotwk oc #thranduilion #mirkwood #mirkwood elves #woodland realm #lord of the rings #silvan elves

[bradshawsbaby]

Si Vis Amari Ama

V. Revelations

SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairings: Rooster (Roman Name: Gallus) x Female Reader (Roman Name: Sabina), featuring Hangman (Roman Name: Carnifex) x Phoenix

Summary: A girl whose freedom was stolen to pay her father’s debts. A gladiator enslaved for the entertainment of Rome. A love they never thought possible.

Author’s Note: And we’re back! Once again, I apologize for how long it’s taken me to update this series. This chapter went through a lot of revisions, but it opens the door for a lot of events that will happen later in the story. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 10.4k

Warnings: Slavery in the ancient world, angst, discussion of atrocities committed in the past, allusions to physical abuse, references to injuries and gladiatorial combat, mentions of death, slow burn romance, alternating point of view.

Baking had always been one of your favorite chores, from the time you were a little girl. It reminded you of your mother and the hours the two of you would spend in the kitchen together, laughing and singing songs. Mater had always smelled of the flour that constantly dusted her cheeks and fingers, paired with the smoky tang of ashes from the baking stone. It was a scent that was all her own, and one that you missed more than anything in this world.

You were reminded of her every time your nimble fingers worked to knead fresh dough or shape the loaves for baking, which was why you had been thrilled when you and Phoenix were assigned to kitchen duties this morning.

With the household being as large as it was, the kitchen was always a beehive of activity, particularly this early in the morning. And the queen bee of this hive was Alba, an older Germanic woman who had been serving the Cornelius family since the time your dominus was a boy. A stern woman with a face that hardly smiled and brooked no argument, she ran the kitchen with an efficiency that rivaled the government officials of Emperor Domitian and she had little time for laziness or foolery. On more than one occasion, you had seen her reduce several of the girls to tears for not working up to her exacting standards.

As of yet, you and Phoenix had managed to avoid displeasing her, so whenever you were assigned to work in the kitchen, the two of you were normally entrusted with tasks that left you in relative peace. Right now, that meant that the both of you were settled in the small courtyard behind the kitchen, manning the ovens used for baking the sourdough bread that sustained the majority of the household, from Dominus and Domina all the way down to the lowliest slave.

You and Phoenix had been working together for the past hour in companionable silence, Phoenix stoking the flames that burned beneath each testum, the earthenware pots used for baking, while you shaped the dough into flattened rounds and carefully placed them onto the baking stones. It was a tricky business, baking bread, especially bread that had to pass Alba’s strict inspection. If the dough wasn’t left to bake long enough, it would remain sticky and undercooked, but if you left it for too long unattended, it would char and taste like ash. You had to wait until that perfect moment when the edges started to curl up from the stone just slightly, the top of the loaf a golden brown. Then it was ready.

Humming softly underneath your breath, you pinched off another mound of dough and quickly molded it before carefully placing it on an open baking stone, cautious not to burn your fingers. Noticing that one of the other loaves you’d set down earlier was ready, you peeled it off gently and left it to cool with the others. Stretching your arms over your head, you felt your joints pop and you let out a small sigh of relief as you pressed a fist into your lower back.

One thing about baking bread was that it required you to spend a great deal of time hunched over the ovens, which could be brutal on your back.

“Almost done, I think,” you told Phoenix, who looked up at you with an almost startled expression when you spoke. Your friend had looked preoccupied all morning, her mind clearly somewhere else as you worked. “With the bread, I mean,” you clarified, indicating all the loaves you had already baked. It would be enough for now, at least until dinner that evening.

“Oh, yes,” Phoenix nodded, laughing softly, though the laughter didn’t touch her eyes. “I think it will meet with Alba’s approval,” she grinned, rising from her spot on the ground and rubbing her own sore back.

“I hope so,” you replied with a smile, beginning to gather up the ready loaves and arranging them into baskets to carry back inside.

“Hmm, an expert healer and a master baker,” Phoenix mused, a small smile tugging at her lips as she pretended to scrutinize the bread. “Is there anything you cannot do, my sweet friend?”

Embarrassed by her praise, you shook your head and waved her off. “Plenty,” you retorted, kneeling down once more to check on the remaining loaves. “My mother taught me how to bake when I was very small,” you explained, gently prodding at one browning loaf to assess its progress. “It was something we always enjoyed doing together. I don’t remember much about my childhood anymore, but I do remember that,” you confessed softly, feeling a knot of emotion unfurl inside your chest. “Sometimes, when I’m baking, I hum the songs she used to sing to me, and it’s almost like I can feel her wrapping her arms around me again, guiding my hands and showing me what to do.”

Phoenix knelt beside you, a look of deep compassion and understanding on her face as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Words weren’t needed, which was what you had always appreciated about her friendship. She could say so much without ever uttering a word.

“You’ve never talked much about your childhood,” she said slowly, after a few moments of quiet.

“No, I haven’t,” you conceded, watching as the bread slowly curled away from the baking stone and quickly snatching it up before it burned. “But neither have you,” you added, raising your brows in a pointed expression as you looked over at her.

“Point well taken,” Phoenix laughed, sweeping away the ash from the fires as you collected the rest of the bread. She sighed then, a heavy sound that came from deep within her chest. “I don’t think too often of home anymore,” she admitted, brushing her sooty fingers on her tunic without a care for how Domina would react. “It hurts too much.”

“I understand,” you murmured with a nod, knowing exactly how she felt. It was painful to dwell too long on what had been, considering how both your childhoods had been so violently cut short.

Phoenix glanced over her shoulder at you, her dark eyes still and thoughtful as she seemed to consider something for a moment. Then she walked over to you, sitting you down on the bench behind you and taking the spot next to you.

“Have I ever told you the name of the island where I was born?” she asked, the early morning sun glinting off her dark hair as she gazed at you expectantly.

You shook your head. You knew that Phoenix had been born in Greece, but nothing more. You had learned over the years not to press anyone you worked with about their past. In a world where everything had been taken from you, the story of who you were, of where you had come from and of the dreams you’d once held dear, was the one thing that was still yours, the one treasure you could keep locked away inside your heart where not even the cruelest master could reach it. It was an unspoken rule among the enslaved that you didn’t try to pry that gift out of anyone’s hands unless they chose to bestow it upon you.

Phoenix took a deep breath, twisting her hands in her lap. Reaching over, you covered her hands with your own and offered her a soothing smile.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you assured her, knowing better than anyone that it was never easy to talk about the past.

“No, I want to,” Phoenix insisted, squeezing your hand as she straightened her spine. “Sabina, you’re the closest friend I’ve ever had. You’re like the sister I always wanted. I want you to know where I’ve come from.”

Touched, you swallowed back your emotion and smiled encouragingly, waiting in patient silence to let her begin. You would give her all the time and space that she needed.

“I was born on the island of Melos,” Phoenix began, glancing up at the sun as if imagining the place of her birth. “It’s a small island in the Aegean, right near Crete. It’s so beautiful there. The water is so blue, like nothing you’ve ever seen before,” she breathed out, her dark eyes growing filmy with memory.

“It sounds wonderful,” you said softly, trying to conjure up an image of it in your mind. Rome was all you had ever known, and the Tiber River was certainly not the bluest water you had ever seen.

“My people were fishermen,” she went on, smiling sadly at the thought of her family. “My father had his own boat, and he was good at what he did. My family always lived comfortably, and we always had enough of everything we needed. I had four older brothers, and they were all learning the trade of our father.” She glanced downward for a moment, trying to compose herself. “My mother always wanted me at home, helping with the chores, but I wanted to be on the sea, with my father and my brothers. My father used to joke that perhaps I was really a sea nymph and not their daughter.”

You smiled at that, feeling a pang in your heart for the close relationship your friend had shared with her family, and for the losses she had inevitably faced.

“When I was around four or five years old,” Phoenix continued, “my father started to take me with him on his boat. I used to stand at the bow and spread my arms out wide and pretend that I was flying. Have you ever been on a boat, Sabina?”

You shook your head, biting down on your lower lip. “No,” you admitted, though she made it sound so wonderful. “No, I’ve never left Rome.”

“Maybe one day,” she smiled, taking your hand in hers and squeezing. “I loved being on my father’s boat. No matter what was going on, I always wanted to go with him. One time I was playing with my brothers and I fell and broke my arm, but even then, I still tried to follow him out to the sea,” she recalled, laughing at the memory. “He called me his little phoenix, because he said that no matter what happened, I always managed to rise back up again from the ashes.” Her lashes were wet as she turned to look at you. “When they brought me to this city and made me give them my name, I told them it was Phoenix. I swore to myself that no matter what happened, I was going to keep rising again, just like my father said.”

“Oh, Phoenix,” you gasped softly, hugging your friend tightly as her tears started to fall. You had never seen her so emotional before, so open and vulnerable. You wanted to do whatever you could to comfort her and shield her from the pains of this life.

“No one knows what my real name is,” Phoenix told you, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “What my parents and my brothers called me.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” you told her, not wanting her to feel that she had to divulge all her secrets.

“It’s Nyx,” she said without missing a beat. “My parents said that when I was born, my hair was as black as midnight, so they named me for the goddess of night.”

“That’s beautiful,” you smiled. It suited her. “But you’ll always be Phoenix to me, my brave friend who rises from the ashes,” you added, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders and hugging her.

She smiled at that, sniffling softly as she rested her head against yours. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments. You weren’t sure if there was any more of her story that Phoenix wanted to share, but you wouldn’t push either way. It was her story to tell, how and when she wanted to.

As if sensing your thoughts, Phoenix suddenly sat upright and looked at you again. “I was eight years old when the Romans ransacked our island. We already belonged to the empire. I’ll never understand why they couldn’t just leave us in peace,” she whispered hoarsely, swallowing back her tears.

Your heart sank like a stone, dreading what she would tell you next.

“They killed all the men,” Phoenix said, covering her mouth with her hand as she clearly struggled with the memory of that day. “The boys, too, if they were old enough. My father and my brothers—they put them all to the sword,” she sobbed, her shoulders trembling as you held onto her. “They burned my father’s boat, our homes, everything. The women and the children they loaded up onto their ships and they brought us here in chains, like we were nothing. Like our lives were worth nothing more than a sack of grain or an amphora of wine.” She took a shuddering breath, trying to calm herself down. “The last time I ever saw my mother was that day at the slave market. A merchant from Egypt bought her and they just dragged her away from me. We were both screaming and crying, but the traders didn’t care. They told me to shut up and get back in line. To this day, I don’t know what ever became of her. But I want to believe that she’s safe, that she’s okay.”

“I hope so, too,” you murmured, tears streaming down your cheeks as you held your friend’s hands tightly in your own. “Oh, Phoenix, I’m so sorry,” you told her, your body hot with shame that your own people had wreaked such havoc and destruction in the lives of so many.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Phoenix said firmly, wiping your tears away with one hand even as she wiped away her own. “Look at us, a couple of bawling messes.” She looked into your eyes, smiling through her pain. “It’s been so long since I’ve spoken about my family. It wasn’t easy, but I’m glad that I did. Thank you for listening to me.”

“You would do the same for me,” you told her sincerely, knowing without a doubt that it was true.

“In a heartbeat,” Phoenix nodded. “Whatever you want to tell me, I’m here for you and I’m all ears,” she promised.

“Another time,” you murmured softly, patting her arm. It had already been a heavy enough morning, and the both of you would be in trouble if you didn’t get this bread back to the kitchen soon.

“There you two are,” Hrodebert announced in relief, suddenly appearing in the entryway of the courtyard. “Alba’s grumbling about how long you’re taking out here, but I think I managed to smooth things over,” he said with a crooked grin. With him and the old cook both being from Germania and sharing the same mother tongue, Hrodebert had managed to secure one of the limited soft spots in Alba’s heart, which he was sometimes able to work to the advantage of others.

“Such a grump that old woman is,” Phoenix huffed, wiping one last time at her eyes before she rose from the bench and pulled you up with her. “We’re coming, we’re coming.”

As he stepped closer and got a better look at your faces, Hrodebert seemed to realize that something significant had passed between the two of you and he looked between you apologetically. “That’s actually not the only reason I was coming to find you.”

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Phoenix tried to hide a smile as she nudged his arm playfully. “What is it now?”

“Titus is on his way to perform the physical inspections of all the gladiators,” Hrodebert explained, glancing over at you and noting your confused expression. “It happens every six months or so. Dominus wants to ensure that his gladiators are in top fighting form at all times, so he makes sure that they have physical evaluations at least twice a year.”

“And let me guess, the old man wants us to assist him,” Phoenix interjected, her voice filled with an undeniable affection for the medicus.

Hrodebert couldn’t help but smile at that, nodding. “Precisely. But you know it takes a while, so he said he wants them fed before he starts the inspections so they don’t start their grumbling. I’ve already sent some other girls over to feed the newer recruits, but can you two deliver breakfast to the Pugiones?”

“Of course,” you nodded, trying to mask how eager you felt. Domina had been keeping you busy around the household these past couple days, so you hadn’t had much of an opportunity to get over to the ludus. It had been a few days now since you’d last seen Gallus and you were shocked by just how much you missed his brooding presence.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you nearly missed the silent exchange that passed between Hrodebert and Phoenix, some unspoken conversation that had Phoenix looking a bit flustered. You raised a curious brow as you glanced between them, but knew it was better not to say anything.

“Come, Sabina,” Phoenix muttered quickly, helping you snatch up the baskets of bread you’d prepared and leading you back into the kitchen.

Alba gave a grumpy grunt of approval when she saw the loaves you’d baked, eyeing both you and Phoenix irritably. At least you were saved from a more severe tongue-lashing thanks to Hrodebert’s intervention. “There,” she stated bluntly, pointing at a large pot of bean stew, which was what the men of the ludus typically ate most mornings before their training bouts. Beside it was a small stack of earthen bowls on a wooden tray. “And take this,” she added, shoving one basket of bread into your hands.

Knowing it was no use to argue with Alba or give her any sort of attitude, you and Phoenix simply nodded and were off as quickly as possible, Phoenix hefting the pot of stew while you carried the tray with the bowls and bread.

“A woman’s work is never done, huh?” Phoenix teased, winking at you as you both crossed the barrier between the villa and the ludus.

“Never,” you grinned, feeling a small thrill rush through you once you stepped foot on the training grounds. Even after only a few days away, it felt nice to be back again.

As much as Gallus may have occasionally enjoyed his fellow gladiators’ company—in reasonable doses—they were starting to drive him crazy this morning. They’d all been dragged out of bed even earlier than usual, put through their paces of independent exercises before being informed that Titus was arriving shortly to conduct his physical examinations of every man in the ludus.

It felt ridiculous at this point, that the Pugiones needed to go through a whole show of being examined. Everyone knew that they were the fittest fighters in Rome, so it seemed pointless that Atticus made them perform this charade every few months.

Scattered among the training compound in the already hot sun, all of the men seemed cranky and tired, muttering to themselves or picking fights with one another.

But no one was crankier than Gallus. He’d been on edge these past few days, his mood shifting like the undercurrent of a storm, his frustration building up inside him like that of the caged lions and tigers they kept chained up in the labyrinth beneath the Colosseum.

No one dared say anything, but from the sideways glances they shot him whenever Titus or Phoenix arrived at the ludus without you by their sides, he knew they could all tell what was eating at him.

Where were you?

It had been three days now since he had last seen you and he felt like he was going insane. Phoenix assured him that Aurelia was just keeping you busy in the villa, but he needed to be able to see for himself that you were okay. That bruise on your wrist hadn’t been the last mark he’d seen on you, and it made his blood boil to think that even now, that miserable bitch was causing you even an ounce of pain.

Flexing his fists and breathing deeply through his nostrils, Gallus gritted his teeth and tried to drown out the conversation that was going on around him, pacing around the perimeter of the compound irritably.

“I’m starving,” Felix groaned, lying flat on his back on the small patch of grass beside the training grounds where the Pugiones practiced. He clutched his stomach like a dying man, sighing dramatically.

“Says the one who stole two servings of dinner last night,” Pollux smirked, dumping a handful of grass onto his fellow gladiator’s face.

“Hey!” Felix sputtered, sitting up and wiping the blades of grass out of his face with a grin. “I didn’t steal anything! I can’t help it if Flavia from the kitchens thinks I’m cute,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows.

“She doesn’t think you’re cute, she thinks you’re puny,” Caius jumped in, laughing as he prodded Felix’s leg with a sandaled foot. “She’s trying to fatten you up so you don’t get slaughtered in your next contest.”

“Slaughtered?” Felix scoffed, feigning offense as he jumped to his feet. “I’d like to see any man try. You just so happen to be looking at the greatest retiarius in all of Rome,” he smirked, bouncing lightly on his feet as he took playful jabs at Caius.

Caius smirked in return, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Oh, I’m really scared, fisherman,” he joked, deftly blocking all of Felix’s pretend hits.

“You should be,” Phoenix called out, startling both men. “Fishermen are some of the bravest men I know.”

Everyone’s heads, including Gallus’, whipped in the direction of Phoenix’s voice.

Carnifex nearly tripped in his effort to rise from the low wall where he’d been lounging lazily, the long blade of dry grass that had been stuck between his teeth falling to the ground in his haste.

Gallus barely noticed because just as his line of focus zeroed in on Phoenix, he caught sight of you following right behind her and he felt his heart begin hammering inside his chest.

There you were. You were okay, at least from what he could tell at this distance. Aurelia hadn’t been able to keep you away this time. Mouth suddenly feeling dry, he managed to get his feet moving, bringing him closer to you with every step. And when he saw that your eyes were on him, a small smile gracing your lips, he moved all the faster, feeling inexplicably drawn to you in a way that he still couldn’t comprehend.

“Alright, Pugiones, fall in line,” Phoenix called out, setting down a large pot of what smelled like—unsurprisingly—bean stew. “You’re only going to get your breakfast if you’re all on your best behavior,” she smirked, resting a hand on her hip.

“No cutting! I’m first!” Felix exclaimed, running to stand in front of Phoenix with an eager grin on his face.

“See? Look how quick on his feet he is! You all could learn a thing or two,” Phoenix laughed, winking playfully at Felix.

Pollux and Caius rolled their eyes, but chuckled as they fell in line behind Felix, followed by Carnifex and Gallus in the rear.

Gallus couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you began moving down the line of men, handing each of them a bowl with a smile and a kind word of greeting.

“Nice to see you again, Sabina,” Pollux told you, grinning as he accepted his bowl. “We’ve missed you around here these past few days.”

“I’ve missed you all, too,” you murmured, almost shyly, which made Gallus’ chest tighten with the overwhelming need to protect you and make sure that no harm ever befell you.

When you finally came to the end of the line and looked up at him, he was embarrassed by the way that his breath caught in his throat. What had you done to him?

“Hello, Gallus,” you greeted him, your voice sounding so small as you held out a bowl to him.

He stared at it for a moment, as if not comprehending why you were giving it to him. Coming to his senses, however, he shook his head and reached out to take it from you, a jolt of lightning shooting up his arm as your fingers brushed against his. “Hello, Sabina,” he murmured in response.

“How have you been?” you asked, averting your gaze and staring down at your bare feet. He didn’t fail to notice the way you twisted your fingers in the folds of your tunic, a nervous habit. He had grown so accustomed to examining his opponents in the arena over the years and taking their measure in an instant that there wasn’t a single move you made that escaped his attention.

“Fine.” he replied, hating how sharp and short his words sounded. He was so used to being a brute, but he didn’t want to be one with you. Trying to soften his tone slightly, he said, “I’ve been fine. How have you been?” His eyes quickly scanned your arms for any visible signs of Aurelia’s brutality. He noted one small bruise near your elbow, which made him grit his teeth and tighten his grip on the bowl you’d handed him, but otherwise you looked to be physically unharmed.

“I’ve been fine, too,” you replied, glancing up at him and piercing him with a small smile.

“Good. That’s good,” Gallus murmured, suddenly feeling at a loss for words, which made a growing sense of panic rise within him.

He was saved at that moment, however, when Phoenix called out to him, “Come on, Gallus. We haven’t got all morning.” She tapped her foot against the ground, feigning impatience as he sheepishly shuffled forward for his breakfast. “There you are,” she said, scooping a hearty helping of the bean stew into his bowl. “And take a round of bread, too. Sabina made it just this morning,” she added with a knowing grin.

He could feel his ears growing hot at his friend’s pointed comment, quickly snatching up a small loaf of bread and mumbling his thanks before turning to look for a place to sit down.

“Why don’t you ask Sabina to sit with you?” Phoenix asked in a low voice, grinning slyly. “Titus wants us to help with the physicals, so we’ll be here all morning,” she told him, merriment sparkling in those dark eyes of hers.

With that, she sauntered off to sit with the rest of the Pugiones, taking a spot in between Caius and Carnifex.

Clearing his throat, Gallus slowly approached you, noting the way you looked like a skittish deer as you clearly debated what you were supposed to do without Phoenix right by your side. He felt a sudden rush of gratitude for the friendship the two of you shared. He knew that Phoenix looked out for you, and it was good for her to have a friend in the household as well, one she could trust the way she clearly trusted you.

“Would you, um, like to sit down…with me?” Gallus asked awkwardly, mentally kicking himself. Could he sound any more like a giant oaf?

Your eyes widened a fraction as you looked up at him, but you nodded your head, following behind him as he found a comfortable spot for the two of you on the grass, just a few feet away from where the others were sitting. Felix was loudly rejoicing about how good the stew was.

Starving after an early morning of exercises, Gallus began to swallow down the stew quickly, though he flushed in embarrassment when he noticed the way you were politely averting your gaze, picking at the grass near your feet.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, lowering his bowl and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I really am a barbarian, aren’t I? I’m not used to eating my meals in front of a lady,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck as his face and chest burned red.

“Oh, no,” you insisted, shaking your head. “Please, enjoy your breakfast. Don’t take any pains on my account. I’m not a lady. I’m just a slave,” you said, lifting one shoulder in a meek shrug.

His heart broke for you in that moment because he could tell that you really believed what you said. There was no guile in your tone, no self-pity or victimhood. You had resigned yourself to this life, to the way most people saw you. You had accepted it.

But he wouldn’t.

“No,” he said firmly, waiting until he had your full attention before he went on. “You’re a lady, Sabina. Don’t let anyone make you believe otherwise.”

You seemed embarrassed at that, lowering your head so that your hair shielded part of your face, hiding it from view. But he caught, for just the briefest moment, a tiny smile curving your lips and he felt more triumphant than all the times he’d been declared the victor in the arena.

“Thank you, Gallus,” you whispered, the sound of his name on your lips warming him from the inside out.

Not wanting to make you uncomfortable, he changed the subject, lifting up the small loaf of bread he’d taken with his stew. “Phoenix said you baked the bread this morning,” he noted, tearing off a piece and taking a bite. He didn’t think he’d ever tasted sourdough so good before in his life. “It’s delicious,” he complimented, his words ringing with sincerity.

“Thank you,” you murmured again, looking pleased. “My mother taught me how to make bread when I was a little girl,” you told him, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“I’m sure she would be very proud of what you’ve made today,” he told you truthfully, taking another bite.

“I hope so,” you said, chewing on your bottom lip. Your voice had gone much softer now. “She’s gone now.”

He felt the bread lodge in his throat, suddenly tasting like a stone. What had he been thinking, saying something so stupid as that? Feeling like an apology wouldn’t be adequate, he instead said, “Mine, too.”

His eyes met yours and he could see a flicker of empathy there, of understanding. “I’m sorry.” The words, so trite from anyone else, sounded like a cooling balm coming from your mouth.

“I’m sorry, too,” he murmured, feeling closer to you at that moment than he had with anybody else in a very long time.

Glancing down at the half-eaten food still resting in his lap, it suddenly dawned on him that you were sitting there empty-handed. “Are you hungry? Have you eaten enough today?” he asked, feeling once again like a giant oaf.

You waved away his concern with one hand, smiling slightly. “I had something this morning,” you assured him. Something about the way you said it, however, made him feel like you were evading the question.

“But are you hungry?” he repeated, indicating the large pot of stew that still rested on the grass behind him.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, shaking your head. He didn’t fail to notice the way your lower lip caught between your teeth. “That food is for the gladiators.”

Ah, so that was it. You’d been told you couldn’t eat the food that was prepared for the men of the ludus. Frowning, he tore off a huge hunk of the bread you yourself had made and handed it to you. “Eat,” he told you.

“Gallus, really, I don’t—”

“Eat,” he said again, his tone brooking no argument. He watched out of the corner of his eye as you sighed, but slowly began nibbling on the bread. You were trying to hide it, but he could sense that you were much hungrier than you had been letting on.

“If you’re ever hungry, you can take the food right off my plate,” he said suddenly, looking directly into your eyes as he spoke. “I mean it. They give me more than I can eat anyway.”

“I suppose they need their champion well fed,” you replied, rewarding him with a smile that could have rivaled the sun.

He smiled in return. It felt like a long time since he had last done that. “I suppose so,” he conceded. “But a lady deserves her fill, too.”

You giggled at his words, and he felt his chest puff up with pride. It felt like a private joke now that the two of you shared, something that only you and he would understand. He liked that. He liked that very much.

The two of you sat together in comfortable silence for a while, Gallus enjoying simply being in your presence. He finished his bean stew, while you took small bites of bread. Occasionally, snatches of conversation from the others would float over towards you, but Gallus was more than happy to stay lost in this little private world, just you and him.

“That’s healing quite nicely,” you said suddenly, pointing at the long scar now running across his chest—the injury that had first brought your worlds colliding together. The skin was still a bit raised and tender to the touch in certain spots, but it was healing over as well as could be expected, given the nature of it. “Titus really is a master medicus.”

“Just don’t let him hear you say that,” Gallus whispered conspiratorially, a hint of humor sparking to life in his dark eyes. “He already thinks he knows everything and loves to boss us around. I shudder to think what your praise would do to him.”

Your praise, he had come to realize, would be enough to bring a dying man back from the brink of the Underworld.

“He might end up as cocky as Carnifex,” you teased, the playfulness in your tone catching him off guard as much as your words did.

Stunned, Gallus let out a loud laugh, which caught the startled attention of the others for a moment. He so rarely laughed that it was a sound everyone, himself included, was unaccustomed to.

“Phoenix is starting to rub off on you, I see,” he chuckled, lowering his voice.

“Maybe a little bit,” you grinned, nodding your head.

The both of you glanced over to where the others were still sitting, engaged in some conversation that had them all particularly animated. Gallus couldn’t help but notice the way Carnifex had wedged himself closer to Phoenix’s side, their knees brushing together. And Phoenix was doing nothing to push him away. A small furrow developed between his brows as he frowned, but he was distracted from wondering further about what was happening between them when your voice suddenly brought him back to the present moment.

“What happened here?”

Turning his head, he was a bit startled to see that you had moved closer to him, just a handbreadth away from him now. He was trained to sense even the smallest movements around him. How had you managed to be so stealthy that he hadn’t even noticed you approaching? Your movements were so delicate and light, like the fluttering of a dove’s wings.

Torn away from his private musings, he realized that you were indicating a large bruise on his shoulder, the dark purple of his mottled skin slowly giving way to a yellowish-green.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he assured you, brushing it off. “I got hit with a shield the other day during a practice bout. Pollux is a fierce opponent,” he said, admiration coloring his voice as he spoke of his fellow Pugio.

“You respect them,” you said, your hands resting in your lap as you looked at him straight on. It was a statement, not a question. “Your fellow gladiators, I mean.”

“Of course,” Gallus nodded, setting his empty bowl down in the grass beside him. “Even my opponents. I know that none of us chose this life. We’re all just doing what we must to survive. I can’t begrudge a man doing all he can to cling to his life.”

He noticed the shudder that ran down your spine, didn’t fail to pick up on the way your chin dipped downward and you began picking at a loose thread on your tunic. “It must be hard,” you murmured, your voice so low he almost missed what you said. “Having to—having to take a man’s life just to keep your own.”

Swallowing, he nodded his head once, sharply. “It never gets any easier.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Your hand reached out and came to rest over his, your delicate fingers pressing warmth into his large, scarred ones.

He suddenly found it very hard to breathe, or to form a coherent thought. But he managed to gruffly mutter, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I’m sorry all the same,” you countered, piercing him once more with those large, innocent eyes of yours.

You would be the death of him.

The private little world the two of you had been occupying was all too soon invaded by the sound of Titus’ arrival, everyone scrambling to clean up the remains of their morning meal when they realized that Atticus had come with the medicus, evidently wanting to oversee the examinations himself.

He always did keep a careful eye on his investments, Gallus thought with disgust.

Phoenix quickly dusted herself off and grabbed you by the hand, the two of you keeping your heads down and your mouths shut, doing whatever Titus asked of you.

It was a long morning, the evaluations feeling even more thorough and intense than they usually were. Gallus’ frown grew deeper as he heard Atticus bark orders at Titus, forcing the old man to push the gladiators even harder, nearly to the breaking point for some of the newer recruits.

You and Phoenix were providing water to the men, and a soft word of encouragement when Atticus was out of hearing range. No matter where you were, Gallus’ eyes sought you out, following you around the compound like a hapless beggar, desperate for even a glimpse of you.

When he turned and caught sight of Atticus staring intently at him, however, he stiffened and hardened his expression, standing up straight and gazing ahead with a look of feigned disinterest.

Atticus knew better than just about anybody how to sniff out weaknesses and exploit them for his own gain. Gallus had seen him do it time and time again in the years since he’d been forced into his ludus. It had always been easy for him to make sure that Atticus never found any weakness in him, mainly because he cared so little whether he lived or died. There was nothing, he thought, that Atticus could take from him that hadn’t already been taken, nothing he could hold over his head.

Until now.

Atticus was a lot of things, but a fool wasn’t one of them. And if he had noticed the way Gallus had been watching you, then nothing would stop him from sussing out what you were coming to mean to him.

He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.

Gallus might not be able to protect you from Aurelia’s clutches in the villa, but he would protect you from Atticus’ schemes.

For the rest of that morning and into the afternoon, Gallus pointedly avoided meeting your gaze or looking in your general direction at all. Let Atticus believe him to be completely indifferent to you, just as he had been completely indifferent to all the other pretty slave girls that had been paraded in front of him throughout the years. It was the best way—the only way—to keep you safe.

But late at night, as he lay alone in his bed, his thoughts were consumed by you and only you. That longing, that ache, that had so often plagued him in the middle of the night—the one he thought he had long since rooted out of his heart—was back with a vengeance, screaming out to him in agony.

And when he did finally manage to fall into a fitful sleep, he dreamed of nothing but the feel of soft, delicate hands, their touch as gentle as the flutter of a dove’s wings.

As the days and weeks passed, he realized that the only time he knew peace was when he looked upon your face.

Only you quieted the desperation screaming inside him.

Only you.

The next few weeks passed in relative peace within the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. Dominus and Domina had been attending parties on the Palatine more frequently, often until the early hours of the morning, which meant that Domina in particular had less time for tormenting the household servants.

It also meant that you and Phoenix, as well as the others, had a bit more freedom to come and go as you pleased around the villa once all your chores were done. As the stewards of the household, Hrodebert and the other men who ran things were always conscious to make sure that everything was kept up to your master’s exacting standards, but they were also more than willing to turn the other way when those who had performed their duties sought a small break.

For you and Phoenix, it meant that you had the ability to spend more time with your friends in the ludus without worrying about the watchful eye and  jealous rage of Domina.

In the time since you had started working more regularly in and around the ludus, your friendship with the Pugiones had grown stronger and stronger. Where you had once been terrified to go near gladiators, now you found yourself counting the fiercest fighters in Rome among your closest friends and protectors. They were like the older brothers you had never had. Seeing the way that Phoenix interacted with them, and knowing now that she had lost her own brothers, you knew she felt the same.

You loved them all, but you would be lying if you said that each time you stepped foot onto the ludus’ grounds, your eyes didn’t immediately seek out one above all the others.

Gallus.

In the weeks since the two of you had sat together over his breakfast, your relationship with the famed gladiator had continued to grow in ways that set your heart aflutter. You’d been concerned that day of the physical examinations, when Gallus had refused to even look at you after you’d shared such a personal revelations with one another, but the next time you’d seen him, with none around but Titus and the others, he’d smiled at you once more and you felt yourself breathing easier again.

With Dominus and Domina being more frequently occupied outside the household, it gave you and Gallus more opportunities to speak with one another over the meals you served him or while you were tending to his injuries. You found that you were no longer afraid to share your thoughts with him, and you were pleased to discover that his smiles and laughter were becoming more frequent.

At night, when you came to deliver his evening meal to his cell, you even managed to sit with him for a little while, when Atticus and Aurelia were out of the house.

“Will you stay with me?” he asked one night, the first time he had ever done so. Normally, you just dropped off his meal with a smile and then hurried back to the villa with Phoenix. “Just for a little while,” he quickly amended, blushing. You could tell he didn’t want you to think he intended for you to spend the night with him, which made your own skin grow warm.

Since your master and mistress were out for the evening, you nodded and stepped inside, keeping him company as he ate.

“I figured I could still use some more practice, eating in front of a lady,” he told you with a small, lopsided grin that warmed your heart.

After that night, whenever Atticus and Aurelia were out for the evening, you sat with him in his cell, the two of you talking of nothing and everything as he ate his dinner, his table manners growing more civilized with each passing visit.

“I think you’ve finally mastered eating in front of a lady,” you joked one evening, your eyes crinkling as you smiled at him.

He smiled back, his dark eyes glowing like amber in the light of the candle beside him. “And you’ve finally mastered referring to yourself as a lady,” he teased in return, a warmth in his expression that turned your insides to mush.

“We’re both learning,” you murmured softly, surprised when he pushed part of his meal towards you. “What’s this?”

“Your dinner,” he told you, waving his hand over the food. “I told you, they feed me more than I can eat, and I don’t think they feed you nearly enough.”

You bit your lower lip, a pang of hunger in your belly confirming his words. You hesitated for only a moment before tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it into the barley and bean stew that Alba had prepared.

“Thank you,” you whispered, savoring what you could of your shared meal.

“You’re welcome,” Gallus said softly, a hint of some emotion in his voice that you couldn’t quite place.

The two of you easily fell into a routine in the evenings when you were free from the watch of your masters, sharing meals together and enjoying one another’s company for longer and longer stretches of time until you finally had to force yourself to leave, Phoenix always meeting you near the gate of the ludus.

“Where does Phoenix go, while you’re here with me?” Gallus asked curiously, knowing that the two of you always came together to deliver meals to the Pugiones.

“She visits with the others,” you explained, laughing as you told him about the coins your friend had managed to win from Pollux and Felix after a successful game of knucklebones.

Tonight, as you and Gallus enjoyed a vegetable broth that Alba had spent all day preparing, you took stock of the increased amount of food on the tray you’d delivered. In fact, you had noticed over the course of the past several days that the portions of all the gladiators’ meals had been steadily increasing.

“Is Alba afraid you’re all starving over here? She keeps putting more and more food on your plates,” you joked, taking a small bite of bread as you gazed across the small table at him.

Instead of laughing as you thought he might, Gallus’ expression sobered and he dropped his bread beside his bowl. “The summer festivals will be starting soon,” he said in a low voice, as if that would be explanation enough.

When you simply blinked in confusion, he added, “That means more rich Romans will be trying to win the people’s—and the Emperor’s—favor by sponsoring games.”

As his meaning sank in, you felt your stomach hollow out. Suddenly nauseous, you let your own piece of bread fall back down to the table as well.

Besides that first day that you’d met Gallus, when he’d been so horribly injured in a fight, you hadn’t seen him or any of the other Pugiones actually leave the compound for a bout in the Colosseum. Some of the newer men had gone—many of whom had not returned—but never the champions of the ludus. Phoenix had explained to you once that because they were so popular and sought after, Atticus had the luxury of being more choosy about which games he enrolled them in. The Pugiones had earned enough fame and status that they were considered a major draw in the arena—and Atticus used that to his advantage to charge a hefty price for their public appearances.

It had been a couple months now since any of them had fought publicly, but with the summer festivals coming up, that meant more elaborate games would be hosted in the Colosseum. And those who sought to curry the most favor would pay whatever money they had to to ensure the best.

Gallus and the others would be fighting again soon.

Seeing the understanding dawn on your face, Gallus winced slightly. “They always start to increase our rations when we have to prepare for the games. We train for longer hours, and we have to be at our best when we fight in the arena.” His voice was flat, unfeeling, as he explained it to you.

“So it will be soon then?” you questioned, hearing the emotion catch in your voice.

“We haven’t been informed of anything yet, but I would guess within the next month or so,” Gallus nodded, his shoulders drooping slightly as he lowered his head.

“You’ll be fine,” you said, more to reassure yourself than him. “You and the others, you’ll all be fine. You always come back,” you murmured, trying to fight the rising tide of anxiety within you. “You’ll come back.”

Gallus lifted his head and met your gaze over the flickering candlelight, something intense and inscrutable in his eyes. “I’ll come back,” he promised, nodding his head slowly.

The two of you sat and finished your meal in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts and fears. When all the food was finally gone, you stood on trembling legs, knowing that Phoenix would probably be waiting for you and that you should be getting back to the villa.

Gallus stood as soon as you did, his large frame dwarfing you in the already tight confines of his cell. “Sabina,” he murmured, reaching out and lightly brushing his fingertips against your arm.

Unbidden tears started burning the backs of your eyes, but you looked up at him anyway, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He did.

“Everything is going to be fine, I promise,” he told you, squeezing your arm gently. He let go a second later, as if afraid to touch you for too long.

You just nodded, knowing your voice would betray you if you spoke.

“Get back safely,” he whispered, a rugged tenderness in his voice as he walked you to the door. “And get some rest.” You could feel his fingers gently catching on the ends of your hair, which you’d worn loose tonight.

“Good night, Gallus,” you said softly, gazing up at him one last time.

“Good night, Sabina.”

And then you were gone, into the night.

You quickly approached the gate that led back to the villa, assuming Phoenix would already be there waiting for you. The apology you’d been conjuring up died on your lips, however, when you realized that she wasn’t there. Frowning in confusion, you glanced around, wondering if perhaps she was playing a trick on you, hiding behind some shrubbery. You knew for a fact that she never would have left the ludus without you.

For a moment, you grew worried, but then you let out a breath and a soft laugh, figuring that she had also lost track of the time and was probably still swindling Pollux and Felix out of some pocket change.

Doubling back, you approached the cells of the other Pugiones, assuming that Phoenix must still be inside with some of them. As you headed towards Pollux’s and Felix’s cells, however, you suddenly caught a snatch of light coming from Carnifex’s cell, where the door was the tiniest bit ajar. You thought nothing of it until you suddenly heard Phoenix’s voice coming from within. Letting out a sigh of relief, you stepped closer to the door, but froze when the conversation happening inside became clearer.

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s dangerous?” Phoenix whispered, a worried edge in her tone.

Surprised, you glanced through the small crack in the door and were shocked to see your friend’s hands splayed across the blonde gladiator’s bare chest, while his hands were wrapped around her waist.

“And how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care?” Carnifex countered, keeping his voice down only when Phoenix pressed a hand to his lips.

“You should care,” she hissed, groaning in frustration. “Hrodebert already figured it out. Do you really want someone else to find out and have to bear the burden of knowing?”

“I don’t care if it’s dangerous and I don’t care who knows,” Carnifex muttered stubbornly. “All I know is that I want you.” And with that, he swallowed up any further arguments Phoenix would have made with a kiss, his fingers buried in her dark hair as she melted against him.

You couldn’t help it. You gasped, your eyes widening as you clapped a hand over your mouth, stupefied.

Letting out horrified gasps of their own, Phoenix and Carnifex whirled around, catching sight of you at the door.

“I’m sorry!” you whispered, turning in a panic and fleeing back towards the villa.

“Sabina!” Phoenix called after you, the sound of her running footsteps catching up to you before you could reach the gate.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” you told her, fearing she would be angry with you. “I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have—”

“Sh, sh, sh,” Phoenix whispered, covering your mouth with both her hands until she could tell that you had calmed down somewhat. Slowly lowering her hands, she looked into your eyes, remorse and sadness evident there even under the dark cover of night. “It’s alright, Sabina. I’m the one who’s sorry,” she said softly. She glanced over both her shoulders before saying, “Come with me.”

Taking your hand, Phoenix pulled you through the gate, but instead of heading towards the house, she pulled you in the direction of the small bathhouse that Atticus and Aurelia had recently renovated on their property. Checking that it was empty of any of the other servants, she dragged you inside and lit a candle, settling you both down on a bench fit into an alcove in the wall.

“Phoenix, I’m so sorry,” you apologized again, mortified beyond belief. “I didn’t mean to spy on you. I just went to the gate and you weren’t there and I thought that maybe—”

Phoenix held up a hand to cut you off, silencing you with that single gesture. “Sabina, you don’t have to apologize. This is my fault. I lost track of time and I was being stupid. I—well, obviously you know what you saw,” she sighed, twisting her hands in her lap.

“H-how long? Have you and Carnifex—?” To say you were stunned would be an understatement. But as the shock slowly wore off, you were suddenly reminded of all the small signs you had noticed and failed to pay much attention to, the hidden looks and innocent touches, the way their eyes seemed to communicate without saying a word.

“It started before you even came to the household,” Phoenix confessed, running a hand through her dark hair.

Your eyes widened at that revelation. It had been going on the entire time you’d known her, and yet you’d never put the pieces together.

Realization struck you. 

“Is that where you go at night? The reason why you come back to our quarters so late sometimes?” you asked, thinking how much more sense it made now.

“Sometimes I really am helping Hrodebert with the accounts,” she replied, looking ashamed. “But…yes.”

You sat back and took a deep breath, letting that information wash over you. How had you not figured it out? Why had Phoenix not told you? You felt a small stab of hurt. You thought the two of you shared almost everything with each other.

“I would never tell,” you murmured, looking over at her crestfallen face. “If you had told me, Phoenix, I promise I would have kept your secret.”

“I know that,” Phoenix rushed to tell you, taking your hand in between hers and pressing an affectionate kiss to the back of it. “Oh, I know that. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you that I didn’t tell you. It’s because I wanted to protect you. And everyone else. I didn’t want Hrodebert to know either. He just figured it out.”

You looked at her in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why would you not telling us protect us? Protect us from what?”

“From having to lie for us,” Phoenix whispered miserably. “If Atticus—or Aurelia—ever suspected, if they started asking questions—I don’t want any of you to have to make up lies to protect us.”

“Why would they even care? What concern is it to them?” you demanded, feeling a growing anger on behalf of your friend, that she had to sneak around and lie like this, just to feel safe.

Phoenix let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, my sweet Sabina. You really are too good and innocent for this world. Atticus and Aurelia prey on weakness. They seek it out and they exploit it. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. If they knew what’s been going on between me and Carnifex—if they found out—”

“Do you love him?” you asked, cocking your head to the side as you gazed into your friend’s eyes.

Phoenix froze at your question, avoiding your eyes as she leaned back and ran a tired hand down her face. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m such a fool,” she whispered, her voice filled with pain.

“But do you love him?” you pressed, thinking of the way you’d seen her clinging to him in his cell.

“I—I shouldn’t love him,” she whimpered brokenly, burying her face in her hands. “It’s better for the both of us if I don’t love him. And he shouldn’t love me either. But I just—we—we can’t stay away from each other.”

“Oh, Phoenix,” you murmured gently, wrapping your arms around her in a comforting embrace. You understood what she was saying. As hard as you tried, you didn’t think you could stay away from Gallus either, even if your relationship with him wasn’t quite the same as Phoenix’s with Carnifex.

“I’m scared,” Phoenix confessed in a small voice, holding tightly to you. “I’m scared of what will happen if anyone else finds out.”

“What would Atticus and Aurelia do?” you wondered, suddenly feeling terrified to know the answer.

“They’re so cruel, especially that witch Aurelia,” Phoenix whispered, not directly answering your question. “She can’t have the Pugiones, and she doesn’t want anyone else to have them either. Before you came—” She seemed to shudder with the memory of it.

“What?” you asked, biting down on your lower lip. “What happened?”

Phoenix took a deep breath, sitting up straight and turning to look at you head on. “Before you came, there was another gladiator in the Pugiones. His name was Rufus. He was one of the best. And he fell in love with one of the slave girls in the house, Niobe. They used to sneak around to see each other. But Aurelia figured out what was going on, that jealous bitch. All she had to do was say the word, and the very next day Atticus sold Niobe to a friend of his who was moving his family to Sicilia.”

You gasped in horror. How was it that Domina’s cruelty still didn’t fail to shock you?

“Rufus was heartbroken,” Phoenix went on, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. “He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t talk to anybody.”

“What happened to him?” you asked quietly, a bad feeling growing in the pit of your stomach.

Phoenix let out a sigh, heavy-laden with sadness. “He told the others that he had nothing left to live for with Niobe gone. Nothing left to fight for. Atticus enrolled him in the Saturnalia games, and—and—Gallus told me later that he just gave up. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t want to win. They say he died in the arena that day, but I know that he died long before that. He died the day they took Niobe away from him.”

You lowered your head and closed your eyes, your heart moved with sadness for the ill-fated lovers.

“That’s why I’m afraid,” Phoenix whispered, resting her head on your shoulder. “That’s why I don’t want anyone else having to bear the burden of knowing what’s going on between me and Carnifex. I should end things with him. I know I should. It would be safer for both of us. But I—”

“You love him,” you told her. It was no longer a question.

“Oh, Sabina,” Phoenix cried, her face crumpling as she started to sob in earnest.

“Sh, sh, it will be alright,” you cooed softly, pressing your cheek against the top of her head and rocking her back and forth slowly. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise,” you assured her, echoing the same words Gallus had told you earlier.

The two of you stayed a while longer in the bathhouse until Phoenix had composed herself enough to return to the main house.

Crawling onto your sleeping mats in the slave quarters, you curled up side by side, Phoenix slipping her hand into yours and squeezing tightly until she finally fell asleep.

Sleep evaded you, however. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you silently reflected on all you had learned of that night—the upcoming summer games, Phoenix and Carnifex���s affair, the story of Rufus and Niobe.

In the midst of it all, Gallus’ face kept flashing in your mind, his dark eyes shining brightly like they did whenever they were illuminated by candlelight, his scars standing out sharply against his tanned skin.

The peaceful picture was suddenly replaced by a horrific scene as your mind conjured up images of him being cut down in the arena, slaughtered during the summer games as Atticus and Aurelia laughed.

He just gave up. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t want to win.

A cold chill ran down your spine and you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to force away those savage thoughts.

Gallus had promised you that he would come back, that everything would be fine. It had to be. It just had to be.

But would it?

Much like doomed Rufus, you were no longer sure you would know how to go on in a world without Gallus.

Closing your eyes and covering your face with your hands, you prayed to every god you could think of that you would never have to find out.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #hannix #hangman x phoenix #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller #Ancient Rome AU #si vis amari ama ⚔️

[copperbadge]

airmidcelt

I realllllly want to try making bread, do you have a yeast bread recipe rec for a beginner? I have a stand mixer that I want to use.

I have many recipes! I’m throwing a handful behind the cut. I’m including Beer Bread, Hokkaido “Milk” Bread, and King Arthur Bagels. 

I will say that I’ve yet to have a bad recipe from the King Arthur website, so if you’re looking for bread recipes that’s a great resource, and any recipe that asks you to knead bread for any length of time will work in a stand mixer -- generally, you should stir the ingredients by hand until reasonably incorporated, then attach the dough hook and knead.

A note -- using bread flour instead of all-purpose really does make a difference in the quality of the bread. All-purpose is fine, but you’ll get a better and more consistent product with bread flour. I also add King Arthur’s “Bread and Cake Improver” to make for a fluffier crumb and softer crust.

Beer Bread

adapted from https://www.agardenforthehouse.com/rustic-beer-bread-hand-kneaded/

4 cups (555 grams) bread flour

2 teaspoons (7 grams) instant yeast

2 teaspoons (12 grams) salt

12 ounces (341 ml) beer of your choice at room temperature (uh maybe stay away from pale ales, they get real skunky)

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

Now, I was baking with Off-Colour’s beer, which comes in 16oz cans, so if you have a 16oz can of beer, the amounts are:

694g Bread Flour

2 1/2 tsp yeast

2 1/2 tsp (16g) salt

16oz beer

1 1/4 tbsp olive oil

If you do this larger recipe, it’s best to make two loaves, or one loaf and one batch of rolls.

Stir together the flour, yeast, and salt in the mixer’s bowl and make a well in the middle. Add the beer and olive oil, and stir until a stiff, shaggy dough develops. Knead for 10 minutes (I use a dough hook in the stand mixer on low to medium speed, works fine).

Transfer the dough to a large greased bowl, flip to grease its other side, and then cover the bowl with clingfilm or a damp towel. Let the dough rise in a warm location until doubled in volume -- 90 minutes to 2 hours.

When the dough has doubled in volume, punch it down, pat it out, and form it into a tight ball. Pinch the seam to seal it. Then place the ball seam side down in a greased bowl. Cover and let rise in a warm spot until doubled in volume -- usually 30 to 45 minutes.

While the dough is rising, place a heavy, oven-proof pot (covered with its lid) on the lower-third level of the oven. Preheat the oven to 450°F. Generally people will use cast-iron dutch ovens for this, but I’ve also used an aluminum dutch oven, which is quite light and doesn’t hold as much heat; it still works fine. This dough is very versatile and will also do fine in a loaf pan without a cover, just keep an eye on the browning.  

When the dough is ready, remove the pot from the oven. Flip the dough into the pot, its seam side now facing up. Cover the pot with its lid, and return it to the oven.

Bake for 30 minutes. Uncover the pot, lower the oven temperature to 400°F, and bake until the crust browns -- 10-15 minutes. Transfer the bread to a wire rack. Cool completely before slicing.

Hokkaido Milk (Tangzhong) Bread

This is a softer, fluffier bread, more like store-bought. It has one or two extra steps but is still a pretty versatile, low-skill dough. 

Tang: 

1/4 cup water

1/4 cup milk

3 tbsp flour

1 large egg, room temp

1/2 cup cold milk

Dough: 

2 2/3 cups flour (390g)

1/4 cup sugar (35g)

2 tbsp dry milk powder, optional (15g)

1 tsp salt

2 1/4 tsp yeast

4 tbsp unsalted butter, softened

In a small saucepan off heat, whisk together the first three Tang ingredients. Heat over medium heat, whisking constantly, until mixture thickens and streaks from the whisk do not disappear. Remove from heat and pour in the remaining cold milk. Whisk to combine. Add the egg and whisk to combine.

Mix together all of the dry ingredients (all “dough” ingredients except butter) in a stand mixer bowl. Make a well in the center and pour in the tang, then stir until combined. Attach dough hook and continue to knead with dough hook on low speed. 

After 5 minutes on low speed, the dough will be very sticky, sticking to the sides of the bowl. This means the gluten has started to develop. Add the softened butter in 3 additions, allowing to incorporate fully. Between additions, scrape down the sides of the bowl with a spatula if needed. The butter will look like it's not being absorbed by the dough but be patient, it will.

Once all the butter is incorporated into the dough, increase the speed to medium (4 or 5) and let dough knead for 6-8 minutes, scraping down the bowl occasionally. The dough is done when it no longer sticks to the sides of the bowl. It will be smooth and should very easily come off from the sides of the bowl.

Remove dough from mixing bowl and shape into a ball. Return to mixing bowl and cover with cling film/tea towel and let rise until doubled in size (either at room temperature for ~2 hours or overnight ~12-14 hours in fridge).

After dough has proofed, remove covering and gently deflate the dough by scraping down the sides with a spatula. Remove from bowl. You can bake this as a loaf, just shape and put in a greased loaf pan, or divide into 14-16 portions depending on size and shape into balls with floured hands, then place in a greased dish. I use a cast-iron skillet but a casserole dish will work too, or even a cookie sheet. 

Cover with greased clingfilm or foil and let dough rise at room temperature until doubled in size (~up to 2 hours).

Preheat oven to 350F. Brush the top of the bread with egg wash if desired. Bake for 20-30 minutes. If the bread starts to brown too quickly, cover the top with foil paper to prevent bread from burning. Remove from oven and let cool.

And finally for something a little more complicated, the King Arthur “sandwich” bagel recipe: There are more thorough instructions at the KA website. 

King Arthur Bagels

Starter: 

1 cup (120g) King Arthur Unbleached Bread Flour

1/8 teaspoon salt

1/16 teaspoon instant yeast

1/3 cup (75g) water, cool

Dough: 

3/4 cup (170g) water, room temperature

2 teaspoons (14g) barley malt syrup or 1 tablespoon (13g) dark brown sugar, packed

3/4 teaspoon instant yeast

1 1/4 teaspoons salt

2 1/2 cups (300g) King Arthur Unbleached Bread Flour

Water bath: 

8 cups (1808g) water (I just fill the pan I’m using half-full and don’t bother measuring this) 

2 tablespoons (42g) barley malt syrup or honey (I use brown sugar, works fine)

Knead together starter ingredients until thoroughly combined in a stiff dough (you can use the dough hook but it doesn’t work super well, I usually just stir it until it’s stiff). Cover and rest at room temperature for 4 to 14 hours; it should expand. I do this in the bowl of the stand mixer because why not? 

Add remaining dough ingredients in the order listed, on top of the starter. Knead the stiff dough until it’s supple and elastic, 8-10 minutes with a mixer. Rest, covered, 2 hours.

Divide into eight equal pieces (80g to 85g each; I prefer mini bagels of roughly 40g each). Shape each piece by forming it into a ball, then rolling on an unfloured surface to tighten. Cover the pre-shaped dough and allow it to rest for 10 to 15 minutes.

Line a baking sheet with parchment and lightly grease, or sprinkle the parchment with cornmeal. To shape dough, poke a hole through the center and rotate to expand the hole, forming a ring shape. Place the shaped bagel onto the prepared baking sheet. Cover and let them rest until they feel slightly puffy to the touch, about 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 450°F. Combine the water and barley malt syrup or honey in a wide, shallow pot; the water should be at least 1 1/4" deep. Bring the mixture to a boil. Boil the bagels for 60 seconds, then use a dough whisk or slotted spoon to turn the bagels over (I often use chopsticks for this). Boil for another 60 seconds before removing from the water and placing back on the prepared pan. Bake until golden brown, 18 to 22 minutes.

#food #sam cooks #bread

[crazedauthor]

Flours for Your Heart

Hehehe... Runaway AU, let’s go! For you @paper-lilypie

~~~~~~

Flour is your mortal enemy.

Waking up at dawn every day sucks. Kneading dough until your hands are numb is an irritating norm. Sitting by a crackling oven, attempting not to burn the loaves or your skin, shouldn’t be as hard as it is.

But the whole fiasco begins at the beginning: with the water, yeast, salt, oil, and God damned flour. The flour that refuses to budge off the floor when you pick it up. The flour that puffs up into your face and sends you into a coughing fit as it coats your throat and nose. The accursed flour… which is now decorating both your body and the bodies of your baker husbands.

Husbands.

Yeah, that word rolls off the tongue as easily as you roll out of bed each morning. In other words, half-dragged out by necessity and the constant thought that things could be worse. You have seen what “worse” looks like. You’re not going back.

Unfortunately, the morning struggle of untangling yourself from the warm sheets feels like eons ago as you stare into the eyes of your… husbands. Your now very pale husbands.

Sun, to his credit, maintains composure like a world-class actor—his hands politely clasped in front of himself with a wide smile. As if the stark white upon his face, concealing his normal, glowing yellow hue, is all but your imagination, fueled by grogginess and a fitful sleep of anxious nightmares. Only the twitching of his rays, unintentionally shaking off several flecks of flour, give away any sense of annoyance.

Moon, on the other hand, wears his irritation like it’s his Sunday best: unashamed and so ready to show it to everyone in the vicinity. His current smile would be dazzling… if not for the fact it’s a thinly-veiled glower, complete with a slight show of sharp teeth at the edge of his lips. The rogue ingredient on his face gives him the appearance of a full moon, instead of his normal crescent shape. He almost looks cute like that. How you wish this was a situation in which you could joke about it.

But it’s not. Flour is a regular occurrence on their clothes, but never in this volume. Two days as their new assistant—their spouse, though the word sits funny in your mouth—and you’ve made nothing but trouble for them.

Can’t knead the dough without destroying its fluffiness. Can’t watch the oven without charring the edges of the bread. Can’t mix the ingredients without triggering a massive flour explosion upon the entire bakery.

Annoying. Useless. Unwanted.

Moon takes a step towards you and you tense. Closing your eyes, you wait for the yelling—for the well-deserved verbal beatdown and demand to leave the room and their lives. But it never comes.

Instead, you feel a hand plop gently onto your hair, ruffling it and causing a shower of powder to fall to the floor.

“Go get the cleaning supplies. I’ll fetch us a new bag of flour.”

Moon’s voice is gruff, but there’s no hint of malice. Within that slight twinge at the end of his words, you think you hear a hint of amusement?

You glance up at him with wide eyes, still waiting for the trap to snap shut and an argument to break out. However, he just looks back at you with a small huff and a cocky grin.

“Be quick about it. Hard to work with flour in your face.” Moon starts to walk away, but the stops like something just occurred to him. With a wider smirk, he turns back to you, eyes gleaming. “And no, Sun will not be helping you. He needs to make sure we don’t get too far behind thanks to this mess.”

With that snarky comment, he exits the kitchen, leaving you with flushed cheeks and a chuckling Sun.

As you try to recover from the unexpected, but not unwelcome tease (at least, not unwelcome compared to the alternative of his annoyance), Sun moves closer to you with gleaming eyes. “You got a little something… right here.”

He drags his thumb across your nose. However, your eyes quickly catch sight of a familiar yellow color breaking through the flour, and you realize too late that he wasn’t wiping off the ingredient: he was painting on the last bit of face not covered in white. If there was a mirror in this room, you have no doubt you’d look like a ghost.

“There,” Sun hums in satisfaction. “Now the coat is even.”

Before you can say anything back, fire off a sassy comment or even prod him about the fact he just made you messier, he twirls in place with his usual flair. Another cloud of flour flies off him and hangs in the air.

“Get going, sunshine! You don’t want Moon to catch you slacking off, now do you?”

You watch him return to collecting ingredients with your mouth open, but unable to produce any words. Eventually, you take the loss and stride over to the closet for the cleaning supplies. As you take in your powdery white arms and messy hair, a small smile breaks out across your face.

Maybe… Maybe you could survive this life after all.

#sun #moon #fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sun x reader #fnaf sun x reader #sundrop x reader #moon x reader #fnaf moon x reader #moondrop x reader #runaway au

[vodika-vibes]

tysm for answering my question about corr! I'm so happy to be your first request for him :D could you please write something about reader being anxious about meeting his family on mandalore to the point of not being able to sleep, because she's estranged from her own family? I think he'd be so sweet and comforting <3

Family Meeting

Summary: Corr has been planning on introducing you to his family for ages now, especially since you're now living together, but the closer the day comes, the more anxious you become.

Pairing: Corr Skirata x F!Reader

Word Count: 1462

Warnings: Anxiety, mentions of an abusive family

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: You're welcome for answering your ask! I'm more than happy to answer any questions! Thank you for sending in someone new for me to write (thought Wookieepedia was not helpful about his personality, lol). I hope you like it! I also made a new divider specifically for this story! Yay!

It’s late.

Super late.

Late enough that even your Tooka has gone to sleep, and you, rather tellingly, are still awake. Awake and in the kitchen, anxiously kneading dough to make more bread.

And, you really, really don’t need any more bread.

Tomorrow you are supposed to meet Corr’s family. And he’s so, so excited to introduce you, and you’re trying, so very hard, to be excited too. This is Corr’s family. They’re so, so important to him, and so they should be to you.

But every time you think about an actual family meeting you feel a little sick.

Annoyingly, at this point, the anxiety has grown to the point where you’re not able to sleep. Every time you try to close your eyes to get some rest, the anxiety becomes worse, and you were starting to run the risk of waking Corr, so you just got up.

Your perfect man could sleep through a bombing, you’re pretty sure, so you puttering around the kitchen shouldn’t wake him up.

The biggest problem, you suppose, is that you don’t know what a family is supposed to look like. You haven’t spoken to your own parents since you were a young teenager, and you cut the rest of your family off as soon as you turned 18 and were legally able to do so.

And you know, know, that Corr would sooner sell his prosthetic arms than introduce you to people who might hurt you. Not to mention that these are his brothers and his dad-

But you can’t just forget your family’s words. How they looked the other way when your grandmother was pushing her eating disorder on you. How they blamed you for being in the hospital when you got too sick to survive. How they forbade you from getting the medical attention you needed. How they took and took and took until there was nothing left to take.

How they blamed you when you had nothing left to give.

No. To you, family has always meant pain and hunger and cold and suffering-

But this is Corr, so, naturally, you’re going to grit your teeth and put up with it because he’s more important to you than anything. Even if it does feel a little bit like torture.

You jump at the sound of bare feet scuffing against the floor, and strong arms slide around your waist, “Cyare,” Corr whines your petname, his voice thick with sleep, “Why are you baking at 2 in the morning? People sleep at 2 in the morning.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” You say, honestly, “Did I wake you?”

“I rolled over to wrap myself around you, and you weren’t there.” Corr sleepily nuzzles just under your ear, “I thought something was wrong. Not that you were trying to single handedly bake enough bread for all of Mandalore.”

You look at the bowls of rising dough, there are five of them so far, and then over at the three loaves of bread you already finished, “...I was thinking I’d make cookies next,” You admit guiltily.

He sighs, and presses a light kiss under your ear, “Cyare, baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

“Don’t lie. I know you bake when you’re worried about something.”

“Do not.”

“Do so.” He lightly pinches your waist, “Come on, cyare. Now I know something is wrong. Tell me.”

“I…you…it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb if it’s keeping you awake.” Corr replies logically.

You scowl and press the dough roughly, “How dare you use logic when I’m having an anxiety spiral.”

“Because I know you respond better to logic than emotion when you’re like this,” He kisses your cheek, “What are you so anxious about?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” He kisses your cheek again and again, and then he spins you so you’re facing him and then pulls you flush against him, and you squeak as you press your flour covered hands against his bare chest for balance.

“Sorry-”

“It’s just flour, it’ll wash off. I’ve had worse on me.” Corr replies, unconcerned, his dark eyes scanning your face, “Should I try and guess what’s bothering you?”

“You should go back to sleep-” You say with a frown.

Corr leans in and kisses the tip of your nose, “Let’s see…are you worried about the new washer being delivered at the end of the week?”

“No.” You pause, and your brow furrows, “Wait, should I be?”

“Nope. It’s all taken care of.” He trails kisses from the tip of your nose to just under your eyes, “Are you anxious about money?”

“Not today.” You grumble.

“Good, because we have more than enough,” Corr says cheerfully, before he trails his lips from under your eye to your ear, “Hm…are you worried about…the garden?”

You release a quiet laugh, “You mean the dead garden? No.”

“Yeah, we really screwed that one up, didn’t we? We’ll do better next year.” Corr promises, he kisses down your jaw, and then pulls back, “Are you worried about meeting my family tomorrow?”

Your stomach drops, and  you immediately avert your gaze, “...no.”

Corr slides his hands up your sides to press them against your cheeks, gently adjusting your head so you’re meeting his gaze, “Oh, cyare. You don’t have anything to worry about. They’re going to love you as much as I do.”

“...I highly doubt that.”

“Alright, yeah.” Corr grins, “I don’t think anyone loves you as much as I do. Because you’re so smart and kind and gentle-”

You huff and press your finger against his lips, “Corr.”

“Sorry. I just think you’re amazing and you deserve to know it.” Corr replies with a lopsided grin, “Anyway, you have no reason to be worried about my family, because they’re going to love you because I love you.”

“Corr, my own family saw me as a resource to be exploited-”

“Your family isn’t worth the air the breath,” Corr interrupts, his gaze serious, “And if I ever have the displeasure to meet the people who made you think so poorly of yourself, I’m going to introduce them to my blasters.”

“That seems excessive.”

“It really, really isn’t.” Corr disagrees, then his gaze softens, “Cyare, my family isn’t like your family. They’re not going to mistreat you.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No buts,” He leans in and bumps his forehead against yours, “Would I ever introduce you to people who might hurt you?”

“You haven’t so far.” You admit.

“And I never will.”

You hesitate but you don’t say anything for a moment, and he lightly strokes your cheek with his thumb, “Cyare, do you trust me?”

“Stupid question, of course I trust you.”

“Then trust me on this. This meeting is going to go great, because if my brothers do anything to upset you I’m going to shoot them.” 

You blink at him, startled, and he flashes a sheepish smile, “I’m a little nervous about introducing you to them too. Not because I’m worried that they might hurt you, but because they know everything about me, and I’m worried that they might change your opinion of me.” He pauses, “I also may have mentioned to Kal’buir that you didn’t have the best family-”

“Corr!”

“No details. Just that you’re a little hesitant about family things, and he’ll keep everyone under control. I promise.” He tries to reassure, “I didn’t want anyone to walk in to think blind, cyare. That’s all.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Just that your family mistreated you, you’re still recovering from it, and that you’re prone to anxiety in new situations. That’s all. I wouldn’t betray your trust like that, cyare.”

You sigh and close your eyes, “I know. And, thinking about it, I suppose it’s not the end of the world if you tell them.” Though you don’t sound sure about it. 

Corr drops his hand back to your hip, “I won’t tell them anything until you’re ready.” He squeezes your hip gently, “Are you ready to try and sleep, cyare?”

“...yeah, I can try.”

“Good girl,” He kisses you quickly, “This time I’ll cuddle with you until you fall asleep, cyare.” Corr kisses you one more time, “And the next time you’re too anxious to sleep, tell me. I’d rather comfort you earlier so you can sleep, than for you to be stewing in your own anxiety on your own for hours.”

You duck your head, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not mad. Just worried.” Corr tilts your head back to kiss you one last time, “I love you after all.”

“I love you too.” With Corr’s help, you get all of the dough stored in the fridge, and then he drags you to bed, and curls himself around you, and finally, finally, you’re able to drift off to sleep with the sound of his heartbeat steady in your ear.

#star wars #tcw #corr skirata x reader #corr x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

[sitp-recs]

hello!! I just finished reading The Bolthole for the first time and ohhhh my god it’s so good. I loved the setting, I loved the way grief and guilt and coping and desire and deserving were explored for each of them, I loved how the way they felt about each other was so embodied and tactile and desperate.

I love the different sides of them we get to see and how their relationship intensifies when they’re out in the middle of nowhere together (feels like the parallel inverse of the beloved classic: trapped in a house in the city together). Would you choose middle of the city or out away from everything, for Draco and Harry? Do you have favorite bucolic stories?

Ohh The Bolthole is amazing and I agree, those vibes are immaculate! I love the elements you highlighted and I’m so happy that you enjoyed this fic; I remember the thrill of seeing those 3 brilliant authors publishing a story together, it felt like Christmas! I’m a very urban girl myself (love the city lights!) but I can’t deny the charm and quiet intimacy of bucolic fics, I especially adore the ones with recluse!Harry living in the woods. I loved doing this rec list, thank you!

Home is Where the Nifflers Are by primaveracerezos (G, 4k)

Draco has a soft spot for animals with nowhere to go; soon his and Harry's small flat is bustling with adorable, semi-dangerous creatures.

Vintage by momatu (T, 7k)

Of all of the vineyards, in all of the regions, in all of France, Draco's blasted editor sends him to Potter's....

Beekeeping by khalulu (E, 13k)

A few years after the war, Harry needs distance from the British wizarding world and volunteers abroad as a teacher in a poor rural school. Draco is a low-budget traveler, wandering wherever his curiosity leads him. Their paths cross in Malawi, “the warm heart of Africa.”

the treehouse near primrose downs by @softlystarstruck (M, 14k)

Draco and Harry have been roommates for years, so buying a magical house in the countryside shouldn’t be a big difference. But in between fresh loaves of bread and beds of wildflowers, things start to fall into place.

amid this warm and steady sweetness by warmfoothills (E, 21k)

Harry is not living in a period drama, no matter what his friends or his new house or Malfoy’s sudden affinity for horse-riding might suggest, and if one more person uses the word courting, he’s going to start hexing people.

Twelve Moons by @corvuscrowned (T, 27k)

Harry Potter lives a quiet life, running an inn with his two best friends. Once a month, Draco Malfoy comes to stay. A real-time fic that takes place over the course of a year; updates every full moon.

Pathless Woods by @shealwaysreads (E, 30k)

Harry finds himself unexpectedly reacquainted with Draco Malfoy when his work as an apprentice wandmaker takes him to Wiltshire. Amongst the trees Harry finds magic, growth, and a man who might finally be proving he’s worthy of the wand that chose him.

Of Wands and Trees by Omi_Ohmy (E, 45k)

All Draco wants to do is be a wandmaker, but to do so he needs to understand the soul of trees. Of course, the only man who might be able to help him is the one man who is more of a mystery to him than any tree.

Among Ancient Pines by @graymatters (M, 74k)

Every day, Draco Malfoy tries. With every fiber of his being he tries. But he doesn’t much think about what he’s trying for. In his final term of Healer training, Draco is unfortunate enough to find himself on a plane, the only means of traveling to a small, magical town in rural Alaska.

Knead by laughingd0g (E, 83k)

This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

Wild (orphaned, E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter. Hiding out with a taciturn Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be.

#asks #Drarry reclist #bucolic fics #moonmanateee

[socialist-microwave-laser]

whats ur challah recipie? for the cinnamon ginger delight concoction? ill trade a recipe if you want, i make a banger lentil pie

oh omg thank you! the recipe is actually my roommate @edens-jorts 's, i just added the cinnamon ginger stuff bc i was feeling adventurous and wanted my apartment to stop! fucking! smelling! like! apple! cider! vinegar!!! (the previous occupants apparently attracted a bunch of flies </3) the challah is (mostly) as follows (i fully eyeballed it today bc eden will be bringing the measuring cups but i've been making it enough that it's still very fluffy and tasty)

Challah:

1 cup warm water - 250 g

2 ¾ tsp yeast / la levadura - 15.5 g

½ cup white sugar - 175 g

½ cup vegetable oil - 175 g

1 tbsp honey - 17 g

2 ½ teaspoon salt - 14 g

2 eggs (room temp) (mine have Never been room temp oops)

4 cups bread flour / la harina de pan - 1 kg

Glaze:

1 egg

~1 tbsp water

Add yeast to water with a little bit of sugar (probably about a tsp) and stir

Add all other ingredients in a separate bowl and then add yeast to that mixture. (i don't do this i just throw everything in with the yeast lmao) Mix until incorporated

Knead dough until it makes a ball and is less sticky—if very sticky or too dry you can add flour/water as needed. Should probably knead for about 5-10 minutes

Cover & put into a warm place for about 1.5 hours. Add or subtract time depending on temp but 1.5 usually is fine

Take out & punch down dough & let sit for 5 mins

Divide into 8 and make 8 strands

Make two braided loaves

Sprinkle w/ water (not too much or else your strands kinda melt together into one beast, just enough to make you feel like you did something), cover, & let rise for 1.5 more hours. Preheat oven to 350ºF/176.7°C

Glaze loaves w/ egg & water mixtures (recommend SOAKING it in this. don't miss a spot)

Bake for about 40 mins, adjust for size. Goal internal temp 190ºF/87.8°C

then for the stuffing stuff i based it off of a recipe (here) for ginger cinnamon rolls i attempted once (and will attempt again now that the air isn't clouded with smoke) but honestly i just went off vibes. i probably could have added more vegetable oil bc it was rather difficult to spread into the strands but eh it did its job. here's the relevant bit:

1/4 cup brown sugar - 56 g

2 tsp cinnamon - 28 g (definitely feel like i used more)

1 tsp flour - 14 g (ngl i think i definitely used less than this. maybe like a third tsp)

1 tsp ginger - 14 g (again feel like i used more, also i used ginger paste)

then i added vegetable oil till it got to a good consistency (it was like moldable and rather damp, again i could have added more to make it more runny and easier to spread but i didn't wanna "water" it down so i just decided to fill each strand with More Stuff)

when you get to the strand step, divide the dough into however many pieces you want (i've been doing six strand braids recently so i divided mine into 12). roll one out to a good length, then use your fingers to kinda spread it out and flatten it. use the back of a spoon and your fingers to spread the Stuff into it, then kinda pinch the strand back shut. you could probably use water to make it stick shut better but i'm not on food network so i gave up after my second strand (plus it made the workplace much stickier and made it harder to braid later on so maybe i'm onto something here). then rinse and repeat! except don't rinse your hands between strands bc the Stuff kinda transfers over onto the next strand when you're rolling and flattenjng and yeah 10/10

anyway my Stuff was a consistency that there was actually surprisingly little mess. when i pulled it out of the oven some of the stuff had like run over and it was all gooey and sticky and genuinely i swear this shit could be candy

if you end up making this lmk send pics and tell me what you think!!! my neighbor told me this is literally the best bread she's had her entire life which made me very happy. i hope you enjoy!!!

#recipes #baking #challah #happydayes28 #asks #jumblr

[dinosaurzealot]

Bread Recipe

My family’s bread recipe, passed down from my great-grandma! She had eleven kids so the recipe makes four loaves (eleven kids eat a lot of bread); I usually halve it. It’s just a very basic farmhouse white bread- very forgiving and great for beginners. Also you can use it to make cinnamon rolls :)

Ignore whatever is happening with the formatting; it looks normal when I write and then wonky when I post.

Ingredients:

1 cup milk

6 tablespoons sugar

6 tablespoons butter

4 teaspoons salt

3 cups lukewarm water

2 tablespoons or two packages of yeast

Bread flour

Directions:

Warm milk, butter, salt, and sugar to “almost boiling” in a saucepan on the stove

Remove from heat and let cool slightly

Combine water and yeast in a large bowl; stir to dissolve

 Add 1 to 1 ½ cups of flour

Add milk mixture and stir well

Keep adding flour until bread-like (8 or 9 cups)

Put on floured pastry board Grease bread bowl with oil and set aside

Knead bread and continue to add flour until you get all frustrations out (about ten minutes)

Place in greased bowl and flip over to grease both sides

Cover with damp towel and set in warm place to raise for about 45 minutes 

Punch down and flip over; let sit while you grease pans 

Shape into loaves 

Let rise for about 30-45 minutes w/ towel 

Bake at 425F for 10 minutes 

Turn down to 375F for 15-20 minutes 

Remove from pan and butter top; allow to cool

For cinnamon rolls:

Start with bread dough after step 14

Roll the dough to ¼” thickness (or less, depending on personal     preference) in a roughly rectangular shape

Spread butter on the surface of the dough—enough to coat or more to     taste (warm or room temperature spreads best)

Cover the surface with sugar and cinnamon to taste

Add additional ingredients if desired (raisins, chopped nuts, etc.)

Roll up tightly and slice the roll into approximately 1” to 1 ¼” slices

Place them in a round pan (9” nonstick works well); start with one in the center and then place them in concentric circles around the center roll. Make sure they all touch.

Let them rise for 30 to 35 minutes; slightly more (45 minutes) is also     fine

Bake according to bread instructions above; however, the rolls should finish approximately 10 minutes earlier than the bread. If you tap the top of the rolls and they sound hollow, they’re done.

Flip the rolls onto a plate to cool

Add frosting if desired

#Recipes #Bread #Probably going to delete this but I wanted to share it and putting it in an ask seemed like a bad option #Personal posts

[scribefindegil]

Low-Spoons Bread Recipe

Hallo friends! Yesterday I was singing the praises of bread-baking, which I know is something a lot of people find scary and intimidating. But fear not! I promise it’s easier than you think, and with this Bread Lore you too can bake delicious loaves whenever you want! If you are confused or have questions, please let me know and I will try to help!

I love this recipe/method, which comes from the book “Artisan Bread In Five Minutes A Day” by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoe Francois. Does it sound kind of gimmicky? Yes! Does it work? Friend, this recipe is a solid 30% of how I fed myself during grad school. It’s also one of the few things I can consistently make since I got cursed with ME/CFS in February. If I can stagger into the kitchen and use a measuring cup, I can make bread.

This is a no-knead dough that keeps in the fridge for up to a week. Over the course of the week, whenever you want bread you can tear off a hunk of dough and bake it! I find this recipe makes approximately two big loaves, a cookie sheet’s worth of focaccia, four personal pizzas, or eight dinner rolls.

You Will Need:

Flour (all-purpose)

Active Dry Yeast (available in jars and packets in the baking aisle)

Salt (table salt is fine)

Water

Measuring cups & spoons

A big mixing bowl

A lid for the mixing bowl, or some aluminum foil to cover it

To Make The Dough

Get out your big mixing bowl.

Add 3 cups of lukewarm water. It should feel warm, not hot, if you put a drop on the inside of your wrist. If you use very hot water, you could kill the yeast. If you use cold/cool water, the recipe will work but it will take longer to rise.

Stir in 1 tablespoon of table salt OR 1 1/2 tablespoons of sea or kosher salt. Table salt has much finer grains, so you get a lot more salt per spoon than you do with coarse-grained salts.

Stir in 1 1/2 tablespoons (2 packets) of yeast.

Now add 6 1/2 cups of flour. To measure the flour, use a big spoon to scoop in into the cup and then level off the top with the flat side of a bread knife. This keeps the flour from being too tightly packed, which will throw off your measurements.

Mix it all up with a wooden spoon until all the flour is incorporated.

Congrats! You have made dough!

Now cover the bowl with its lid or with a lid of aluminum foil. At this point, you can put it in the fridge until you’re ready to bake! If you want to bake imminently, you can also let it rise at room temperature for two hours (though it is easier to work with if it’s cold).

(Instructions for turning this dough into various Breads under the cut!)

To Bake a Focaccia (easiest & extremely delicious)

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees

Use olive oil to grease a cookie sheet or a large cast-iron skillet

Oil your hands. Tear off a chunk of dough. About 1/3 of the recipe will fill a 12-inch skillet; when making it on a cookie sheet I usually use about half the dough, though you can use the whole thing if you’re baking for a crowd.

(This will make the bread Prettier but tbh it’s fine if you don’t do it) Fold the dough in on itself and stroke the surface like you are petting a small animal until it forms a smooth ball.

Press the dough into a sheet of relatively even thickness in your pan.

Let the dough rise for about 20 minutes while you wait for the oven to finish preheating.

When the oven is hot, poke the dough all over with clean fingers to make little dimpled hollows. Drizzle it with olive oil and sprinkle on some coarse salt, black pepper, and any herbs you want (I love rosemary and oregano!)

Bake for 20-30 minutes until golden brown

To Bake A Pizza

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees

Oil your hands. Tear off a chunk of dough (about 1/4 of the dough is a good size for a personal pizza).

Put the dough on an oiled countertop and use a rolling pin or empty bottle to roll it out as thinly as you can. If you feel like the dough is fighting you, let it relax for five minutes and then try again.

Transfer the round of dough to an oiled cookie sheet (you can use your hands to help stretch it out more thinly when you pick it up if you want)

Add your toppings of choice

Once the oven is hot, bake for 15-25 minutes until the crust is golden brown and cooked through and the toppings are bubbly

To Bake A Big Beautiful Boule (with steam!)

Note: For various Science Reasons, bread cooks much better when there is steam in the oven. A lot of recipes encourage you to bake inside a closed Dutch oven, but I find it difficult & scary to get the dough in there since you have to preheat the Dutch Oven as well. Another method (described here) is to have a roasting pan or skillet in the bottom of the oven and throw ice cubes (probably safest) or water (what I do) in there right as you put the bread in the oven. If you don’t do this your bread will still be fine! But you won’t get as nice a crust and your loaf may not expand as well. It’s up to you. Follow your heart.

Place a roasting pan, cookie sheet, or cast-iron skillet on the bottom rack of the oven. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Dust your hands with flour. Tear off a chunk of dough (whatever size you want; I usually go with about half the recipe)

(This will make the bread Prettier but don’t stress about it) Continuing to dust with flour if things get sticky, fold the dough in on itself and stroke the surface like you are petting a small animal until it forms a smooth ball.

Place your Dough Orb onto a cookie sheet dusted with flour or cornmeal. Let it rise for 45 minutes.

When the oven is hot, dust your orb with more flour. Then use a bread knife to cut several deep slashes through the loaf. This will help it expand as it cooks! Plus it looks beautiful.

To use steam: Get about half a dozen ice cubes and put them in a measuring cup. Put your bread in the oven, then immediately pour the ice cubes onto the roasting pan you put on the lowest rack and shut the door. Don’t peek at the bread until at least 15 minutes have passed to keep the steam inside the oven.

Bake for about 30-40 minutes, until the crust is nice and dark and the loaf sounds hollow if you rap on the bottom

To Bake Dinner Rolls

Place a roasting pan, cookie sheet, or cast-iron skillet on the bottom rack of the oven. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Dust your hands with flour. Divide the dough into eight equal portions.

For each portion of dough: Continuing to dust with flour if things get sticky, fold the dough in on itself and stroke the surface like you are petting a small animal until if forms a smooth ball. Place the roll onto a cookie sheet dusted with flour or cornmeal.

Let them rise for about 30 minutes.

When the oven is hot, dust your rolls with more flour. Then use a bread knife to make a deep slash through each roll.

To use steam: Get about half a dozen ice cubes and put them in a measuring cup. Put your bread in the oven, then immediately pour the ice cubes onto the roasting pan you put on the lowest rack and shut the door. Don’t peek at the bread until at least 15 minutes have passed to keep the steam inside the oven.

Bake for about 20 minutes, until the crust is nice and dark and a roll sounds hollow if you rap on the bottom

For extra deliciousness, brush the rolls with melted butter as soon as you take them out of the oven.

More Ideas

Try adding a handful of fresh or dried herbs when making the dough

Roll out small amounts of dough very thin and cook them in a hot skillet on the stovetop to make pitas

Make a filled bread by rolling dough out into a sheet and adding cheese, pesto, or another filling of your choice, then rolling the dough up in a spiral

Knead cheese, olives, or diced ham into the dough before shaping

Once you have a recipe that you’re comfortable with, bread is infinitely adaptable!

Happy baking!

#BREAD LORE

[melancholysway]

Okay okay I know your ask is closed but this idea has been eating away at my for a week now

Alright so imagine the reader is a feline mutant, could be a house cat or a big cat mutant whatever you imagine, and they’re cuddling with their turtle and they start kneading, making bread, their paws into said turtle while they sleep. How would the boys react to that? Cause it just seems so cute, especially if the reader gets embarrassed by it.

preferably 2007 or Rise, cause I’ve also seen you mention your desire for 07 requests

I’ve read a bunch of your posts and I’m sure you can do my request wonderfully, now you make sure you take care of yourself and if this is too much for you right now I can wait ❤️💖

I JUST SAW THIS & I THINK THIS WAS THE BREAK I NEEDED BC HUH

Yes YES YES

If your request hasn’t been fulfilled yet, IM SORRY BRO IM TRYING FR FR😭I think I jumped at this bc it’s just a short shot & I literally have to mentally prepare myself to write a long shot

Also me using the same 4 gifs of the guys bc there’s barely any TMNT 2007 gifs 😫😫

TMNT 2007 Headcanons: Baking Biscuits (Cat Mutant!Reader)



Leonardo

This turtle loves every second of it

Tries to catch you all the time kneading, he’s infatuated with how normal cat habits fall onto you

How turtles have things like chitters(?) & mating season, he likes to see you have cat qualities

You knead the ends of his mask a lot

Cats sleep a lot, so I think you’d fall in between sleeping for a full 8 hours all the time no matter what

And once you wake up, Leo’s gone(in the event you stay the night or share a bed,) but he always leaves an extra blue mask for you to knead while he’s training or meditating

Like how turtles enjoy their shell to be scratched, you’ll definitely both have a set time where you just love on each other like that, where you just cuddle and scratch while he rubs your back

That’s so cute omfg wait I might’ve just did sum

Raphael

Won’t ever tell you, but he feels it while sleeping

So much so that he’ll have a dream of you kneading on or around him

We all know he’s a cat lover

Guys that love cats >>>

But anyway, he’s already fond over you and protective

Also I hc that he feeds the stray cats around the city & the best part is watching them make biscuits in an alley

So to see you do it is the cutest

Raph is a known heavy sleeper, so he doesn’t awaken that easily

HOWEVER (comma)

He would not mind it at all if he woke up to you trying to knead on his shell before he rolled over

Also if he does wake up, he’ll lay on his stomach for easy access to his shell for you

Also doesn’t tell you if he’s awake, he’ll wait a few just to hear you purr while baking those biscuits

Donatello

Donnie doesn’t sleep

However (comma) he wouldn’t mind it if you kneaded next to him while he was working on something

My cat usually kneads right next to me and buries their head on some part of my body, so if you do so, Donnie seriously doesn’t mind

In fact, he loves it! Just feeling you next to him is all he needs

Actually, since Donnie doesn’t sleep, I feel like he would take a cat nap (no pun intended) via bread kneading

He thinks of it as a nice massage. Although kneading is usually on a blanket or something, Donnie’s shoulders are free real estate for kneading

Michelangelo

He notices right away

He’s not a heavy sleeper idc RAPH is 😭NOT Mikey

He immediately does the lil head pat

Also likes to joke around about it

“Guys please stop ordering biscuits Y/n’s been baking for hours please they haven’t seen their family in weeks”

That line. All. The. Time.

Is definitely the most physical out of the four brothers

Meaning he’ll absentmindedly pet you or rub your back knowing you enjoy it as if you’re a non-mutant cat

If you get a little embarrassed (especially if done around his brothers or April/Casey,) Mikey would just switch and do it in private

But tbh he just wants to show off his cute s/o to everyone

Gifts you a (very fluffy) orange blanket of his exclusively for kneading and baking those nice loaves of bread

Since being a mutant feline, your nails will naturally be sharper than average, so he always (attempts to at least) stitch the blanket back up for you?

//

Taglist:

@bee-1n-space @ducky-died-inside

Masterlist

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #raphael #leonardo #donatello #tmnt 2007 #tmnt imagines #tmnt headcanons #tmnt x reader #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2k7

[valriety]

SDV: Bachelor Baking HCs <3

Post Type: SFW, Fluff, Platonic/Romantic x Reader, Mentions of Family in Alex and Shane.

Characters: Sam, Elliot, Harvey, Alex, Shane, and Sebastian.

GN Reader (You/Yours) - slight baker!reader.

The first installment of my baking headcanons for the romance-ables! Assumes a baker!reader, but you can also just read these as general headcanons. Enjoy!

'SDV: Bacherlorette Baking HCs <3' can be found here.

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Sam:

Lowkey probably has never even baked before. Just never had any interest in it. He really likes eating baked goods though! Especially the sweet stuff - total sweet tooth. Penny probably shares what she bakes for him sometimes.

He helps out sometimes in the kitchen at home, but nothing crazy. 

If you like baking, and you invite him to come join, he is so down. He's not the best at it, and you'll need to guide him through a lot of the process, but he is so eager about it. Will request that you bake specific things together depending on what he's craving.

If he has a crush on you, he'll become more bold about his recipe requests, and will try to intitiate baking hangouts more often. The entire time he'll be sneaking glances at you with this cute slight blush on his face :)

He is no stranger to pretending to not know how to do something so you'll come over and help him too <3

If things get more serious, i can see him getting more into it, but it'll always be more your thing, and while he does get better, his skills are still pretty average. Your number one supporter though, brags about you and what you baked all the time.

Would love if you made pizza from scratch one night.

Overall Baking Skill: 2.5/5 - Please bake for this guy.

Harvey:

Actual closet baker. Has a cute apron and matching utensils. Wears it all the time.

He actually really enjoys baking, just not really the sweet stuff, instead he's really good at baking bread! He'll make it all from scratch, and even has a few starters setup - uses it for his lunches. Awkward whenever he tries to gift one of his loaves.

If you ever ask to bake with him, he'd accept, but only if you're at least good friends by this point. And he'd be a little hesitant about it too. Might pretend like he needs your direction at first, but he's pretty obvious, and you'll work out pretty quickly that he absolutely knows what he's doing.

If he has a crush on you, and you get past that initial shyness, will invite you to bake with him all the time. He's pretty dependable too! If there's anything you're unsure about, he'd be willing to teach you. May even put on the apron for you <3

If you're in a romantic relationship, will bake things for you all the time. Totally the type to put pretty designs into the bread as well, using herbs and wildflowers to experiment with flavour and color.

Overall Baking Skill: 5/5! Total kitchen wizard.

Elliot:

Another one to not really be seen baking unless someone invites him to do it. Except unlike Alex, who can make do, he's terrible at it. It's just not one of his fortes! He can cook... to an extent.... but his baking is on a whole 'nother level.

He does really enjoy it though, just... mostly aesthetically? The process of creating something from scratch, assembling the ingredients, kneading them together, and watching them become something beautiful - it's all very soothing to him. Loves the smell too.

Regardless of if you're in a platonic or romantic relationship, he would never decline an invitation to come bake with you. Though he would definitely stay on the sidelines, prefering to instead keep you company and hand you what you ask for. Forages with Leah sometimes, so may have some fresh ingredients on hand too!

Will send you recipes that remind him of you in the mail and include a short handwritten poem with every one <3

If he has a crush on you, or if you are in a romantic relationship with him, you might notice him making every excuse on earth to spend more time with you in the kitchen. And he'll do everything he can to help out too! Passing you tools, giving you praise, cleaning up after you, brushing the flour from your cheek... he's so sweet about it. 

Will offer to feed you, and never fails to have the biggest grin on his face when you agree :,)

Also I feel like he'd really like pumpkin pie? 

Overall Baking Skill: 0/5. Recipe for disaster.

Alex:

When he's not out training, or hanging with friends, Alex would definitely enjoy baking with Evelyn from time to time. He's a bit messy with the technique, and requires a lot of direction, but he really enjoys the process, and is fond of the bond created during.

He especially loves his grandmother's cookies, and will sometimes request flavours he's craving.

He doesn't bake frequently though, and he definitely doesn't attempt it often alone. Even when he follows a recipe, or tries to recall how his grandmother did it, he just can't get it right. So he usually prefers helping, it's the bonding he cares more about anyways.

If you enjoy baking, and you ask him to bake with you, he might be a little reluctant at first, worried that he'll mess up or won't be helpful. But be patient and keep asking! Once he sees that you're excited about it, he'll give it a go, so long as it's something simple :)

So flustered if he has a crush on you. When you try to feed him one, his cool exterior completely crumbles, cheeks flushing and unable to make eye contact. 

If you guys move past friendship, and onto a romantic relationship baking dates may actually become more frequent! Acts of services is definitely a love language of his, so if baking was something you enjoyed, he'd try his best to become helpful to you, even going as far to trying a few recipes out alone for you try <3

Would absolutely invite you to come help bake with Evelyn.

Overall Baking Skill: 3/5. Doing the best he can.

Shane:

Listen, he CAN bake, he's actually not too bad at it even, he just never does. Honestly Shane never enjoyed cooking, he'd much prefer microwave meals, or grabbing a feed from the saloon. He just doesn't like it. In fact, the only reason he's any good at it at all is because of Jas.

Shane struggles a bit with Jas. He worries alot that he's not present enough for her, or that he can't be the father figure she needs, so every now and again he'll try to put in a little extra effort, just to show her he cares.

The first time he tried baking was for one of Jas' birthdays. It was a simple cake, something easy for his first time, but he had a lot of trouble following the recipe, and the kitchen was a mess after it. He almost swore never to do it again. But seeing her reaction made it all worth it. So if he does bake, it'll be with Jas.

Occasionally, he'll participate in a tea party with her too :,)

Honestly, if you wanted to bake with him, I don't see him doing it? At least not for a long time, and not until you were really good friends. If you do manage to rope him into it, he's more inclined to keep you company or pass you things, but will carry out tasks you ask him to do. 

If he has a crush on you, he may very subtly hint towards certain recipes he'd like to try. And if you invite him to make these recipes with you, he'll probably ask if you'd like to share a drink with him as well, so he has something to blame his blush on lol <3

If things get a bit more serious, I'd also see him roping you into baking with him and Jas - smile on his face the entire time.

Overall Baking Skill: 2/5. Pretty average, pretty messy.

Sebastian:

Local basement dweller probably does not bake. Probably pretty impartial to sweet things as well, I reckon he's more of a savory guy. He's just not really interested in it, seeing more value in doing other things. Nothing wrong with it. 

No one in his immediate friend group really does it all that much either, so he's also just never been roped into it.

If you liked baking, and you ever decided to invite him along for the ride, he'd actually be down for it. It's not his thing, but it's yours, and if it'd make you happy to spend time with him like that, he sees no reason to say no. Just... make sure to guide him along and give him tasks, otherwise he's completely lost :,)

If he has a crush on you, I could see him taking interest in your favourites - shyly requesting to cook those together next time. He'd try to appear nonchalant about the final product, but inside he's actually pretty happy he did it, especially after seeing your reaction. He's honestly inclined to do it again.

And if you guys do end up getting more serious, and he keeps up with baking together with you, he may actually even end up getting pretty good at it. Even going so far as to learn a few recipes by himself - like your favourites, or some bread for whenever you have pumpkin soup for dinner <3

Overall Baking Score: 3.5/5. A true skill leveler.

A/N: And that's all! Lemme know if you liked these, or if you'd like something similar :)

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#stardew valley #sdv #sdv headcanons #stardew valley headcanons #sdv sam #stardew valley sam #sdv elliot #stardew valley elliot #sdv harvey #stardew valley harvey #sdv alex #stardew valley alex #sdv shane #stardew valley shane #sdv sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #sdv bachelors #stardew valley bachelors #x reader #sdv sam x reader #sdv elliot x reader #sdv harvey x reader #sdv alex x reader #sdv shane x reader #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv bachelors x reader #valriety sdv