What happens when an architectural designer likes to bake? Dinara Kasko is what happens.
The Ukranian pastry chef is the master of combining baking with geometric figures and architectural designs. She approaches her desserts as if they were buildings, and creates the most unique edible structures ever. “I have many unrealized ideas and a great desire to experiment. I don’t want to imitate others; I want to create something new,” Kasko told So Good Magazine. And she sure does! The only question now is, how do you eat something so beautiful?!
“protective/shy credence comes home after helping jacob with his bakery,
and hears a boy in the living room with the reader and gets protective/jealous.”
Warnings: Mentions of past abuse and scars
Word Count: 1,530
Credence really enjoyed working with Jacob at his bakery,
coming up with new pastry designs and spending so long in such friendly and
amiable company. He loved exercising his creativity in such a lovely and
delightful manner as well as getting in some calm social interaction, and
honestly, he couldn’t imagine spending his days any other way. This being said,
his favorite thing about these long days spent in the bakery was coming home to
you, his favorite person in the entire world.
You had been Newt’s friend in the States first and had been
quick to take his favor when he asked if Credence could stay with you; after
all, Newt so rarely asked anything of anyone, and it was the least you could do.
It had been nerve-wracking for Credence at first, but he ended up realizing
that he enjoyed the anonymity with this new face, someone who knew nothing of
his mother or where he came from since you were from across town. Plus, Newt,
Tina, and the others visited often, so it’s not like he was left completely alone
with a stranger. But before long, it wouldn’t have mattered to him anyway—he found
your company sufficient and incredibly stimulating. You pulled conversations
from him that he hadn’t known he could verbalize and had been such a kind and
good friend to him that Credence found his general suspicious demeanor fading
over time. Not to mention that he had his job with Jacob and other good friends
as well. He had people to care about, and those same people cared about him. He
had never felt such fierce defensive love in all his life, and with such a wide
circle of people that felt like a family. All in all, he was enjoying this life
And he would be quick to deny it (to anyone except Queenie,
who knew the truth), but lately, Credence had noted that his feelings for you
were no longer strictly platonic. He couldn’t shake a certain shame he felt
when he thought of holding your hands or keeping you safe or (heaven forbid) being
your favorite person too—so he shook those thoughts once again from his head as
he unlocked the front door to the apartment he shared with you, happy to
finally be returning to you after his long day.
Only, today, you weren’t alone when he opened the door. Your
apartment had an odd layout, so he couldn’t quite see you or whoever you were
talking to. He could only hear your familiar faint laughter and the deep rumble
of another voice that was gaining volume with its excitement. Credence felt
dreadful at the pang of what he knew to be jealousy tumbling around in his
chest but could not help it any more than he could help his sufficient feelings
for you that he had accumulated over the months. He knew that you had heard the
door close, so he had to shuffle further into the apartment to say something
akin to Hello to you—and your guest.
If he thought seeing you would assuage his concerns, he was
surely mistaken. You were sitting (what he perceived to be) relatively close to
an unfamiliar boy on the couch, and he was leaning animatedly toward you and
waving his hands in passionate conversation. Credence did feel some sense of
(guilty) satisfaction when you sprang up after seeing him in the room. “Credence!
How are you? How was your day? This is someone from work, a friend of mine. He
came by for a visit since I was going to be alone all afternoon, since you were
Credence felt a growing anger at the thought—How very considerate of him, he couldn’t
help but think bitterly. Credence couldn’t help the thought, honest, but he
felt terrible for his conflicted feelings—it wasn’t his place to be jealous or
angry with you or with the boy from your work, he kept trying to tell himself. “Work
was fine… Nice to meet you.” Credence knew that his voice, though as quiet as
usual, was much icier than it tended to be, and at the furrowing of your
eyebrows, he knew you had noticed.
The boy, however, not knowing Credence, had no idea that he
should find some sense of self-control around this new person. Instead, he
meandered up next to you and turned his glassy eyes to Credence before
laughing, “You’re one lucky fella, living with someone like this!” Credence
felt the heat in his body rise, a familiar heat that he had done so well to
suppress all this time and one that he wanted to squelch immediately but couldn’t.
Still, the boy continued, “I mean, really, I’d love an opportunity like that!”
Credence may have been okay to stew in his own anger, but
upon seeing the discomfort begin to touch your countenance and the way that you
tilted away from the coworker, he couldn’t help the snap of energy that sent a
burst of dark tendrils from his shoulders. They were curling tightly around
himself, not hurting anyone, but the anger in them vibrated around the room,
threatening and unavoidable. The boy’s face had paled as you ushered him out
the door, telling him you’d see him at work another time and that you wanted to
spend the rest of the evening with Credence. Once the door was shut, you rushed
in a careful path over to your friend, who was still shaking with angry magic clinging
to his body like a strangling vine. “He’s gone, Credence. It’s just us now.”
You tried to keep your voice calm as you pressed a hand to his face, which was
surprisingly cold. You were slow and calculating in your movements, hoping not
to startle him because, in states like this, he often was easily disturbed or
frightened into being more in a disarray.
This particular occasion, however, had frightened him more
than you could see—he hated that you had been uncomfortable and that your
coworker had not cared to even notice, but he also hated to think of you
leaving him for someone else. Not in a possessive way, because really all he
wanted was your happiness and well-being, but he didn’t want you to replace him
or to become less important to you. And in those moments where he had
considered you closer to the boy than you were, he found himself brought to
places only his late mother could have taken him—places of extreme self-doubt
and feelings of self-deprecation, of not being good enough for anyone. He could
feel those feelings overtake him in the pulsing of his scars, and it frightened
him, to so easily be brought back to that place after feeling so safe for so
long. He never wanted to feel like he wasn’t good enough to be around you—he couldn’t
lose that. So instead of startling away from you, he found himself pressing his
forehead against yours rather forcefully.
Credence’s initiation of such an intimate gesture startled
you, but you did not pull away and instead closed your eyes to the affection
that you both received and felt. You tilted your body toward him and let your
arms wind around him gently. When your eyes met, he could see the question in
your eyes, asking gently what was wrong. He took a deep breath and prepared his
answer. “I felt…lost. I don’t want to feel…less important to you. And I know he
made you uncomfortable, and then I got…angry, that he did that. But mostly I
felt afraid and…threatened. You’re…my favorite person. I don’t want to lose
His voice never raised slightly above a whisper, but it
touched you in such a way as to cause you to wind more tightly around him,
prolonging and furthering your contact. “Credence, you have to know you’re my
favorite person too. I’m grateful every day that Newt sent you to me. I don’t
know what I’d do without you. You’re my rock and my comfort. I need you,
Credence. No one will ever threaten that or come between us.”
You were always verbally confirming your affection for him,
but this felt different—to both you and Credence. There was a shift happening,
palpable between your bodies. “Do you mean that, Y/N?” This time, his voice
didn’t raise above a whisper.
You couldn’t even answer, didn’t want to shatter what was
shimmering between the two of you, so you nodded slightly, enough that you knew
What happened next couldn’t be helped, the general
gravitation of mouths and of bodies toward each other. It was hardly more than
a brushing of lips, the gentle scrape of mouths touching, before it was just
pulling away and looking at each other, arms tangled and pulling the other
close. Neither of you imagined such an event happening, but now, looking at
each other with all feelings of jealousy and discomfort long forgotten, it felt
like the most natural thing in the world, to hold each other closely and know
no one else mattered more than the other person. No one ever would.
Trdelník is a sweet pastry that is coated in sugar and cinnamon. It’s crispy on the outside and soft on the inside and can be found all over the city of Prague, especially in the more touristy areas. The process of making it is magical to watch. It starts with a long string of dough wrapped around a wooden stick that is turned over an open fire and results in pull-apart deliciousness!
Seeing as Prague is world-famous for its beer, and that the Czech Republic has the highest beer consumption per capita in the world… it doesn’t come as any surprise that I developed a taste for beer while in Prague that has stayed with me ever since.