The magic bakery sounds interesting. What's going on there?
Magic Bakery is a soft and gentle story in which Juniper, a twenty-something who is getting a late start at adulthood, is hired at a tea shop owned by a new-wave occult lady, Meira. It’s a night baking job, Juniper enjoys it a lot, and starts crushing on one of the regulars-- a book appraiser named Avery. everyone is kinda spooky and the community is nice, even if Juniper doesn’t understand it.
but then PLOT TWIST. at the end of the first act, Juniper is doing a night baking shift by himself at the shop when a spooky monster comes and tries to kill him. Avery arrives just in time to use real magic to banish it. turns out, magic is real, there’s a series of magical murders going on, and juniper now has to get a crash course in this hidden community.
okay so full disclosure this was written mostly for a writing exercise/challenge I’m doing with my friend (@purple-blue-dinosaur) and it might be terrible and it’s definitely super cheesy but enjoy?? maybe?? hopefully?? anyway
Setting: Magic Shop, Shadowhunters
Prompt: “Looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while.”
Tags: shenanigans, found family, magic bakery, bee gees, kitchen dancing, this wasn’t supposed to be romantic but look it might be the most saccharine thing I’ve ever written,
~~~
“Singing them love songs, singing them straight-to-the-heart songs,” Alec sang to himself quietly as he worked in the back of the bakery, mixing ingredients together with practiced ease.
“Who knew you were secretly a disco princess?”
Alec spun around at the sound of Magnus voice, finding him leaning against the doorframe, a grin on his face.
“Well you’d have to be pretty familiar with disco yourself to have recognized it in me,” Alec shot back.
“Touché,” Magnus replied as he walked toward him, lifting onto his tiptoes to kiss Alec quickly. “How has your day been?”
“Good,” Alec replied as he turned back to his ingredients. “I’m just preparing some dough so I can put it in the oven tomorrow morning.” He glanced at Magnus over his shoulder. “I should be done in a minute though.”
“No rush, darling,” Magnus assured him as he hopped onto a clean part of the counter, content to watch Alec work as he chatted about his day.
Alec had opened his bakery only a year ago, scraping together the funds to rent the space with the help of Magnus and his siblings. Clary and Simon pitched in as well, as had Maia. He had been overwhelmed by their generosity, and was since working to prove his success to the others as well as himself.
Alec had always enjoyed baking; the repetition of the process, the measuring and mixing and kneading of the dough in his hands. He found he was quite good at it too, and was soon experimenting with magic in his recipes. When he was able to soothe Max’s nervousness, lessen Jace’s soreness, and help Izzy sleep better, he was officially hooked.
Now, so many years later, he had his own bakery where customers could purchase whatever magic they needed to make life just a little easier for them. And everything tasted divine. Alec wasn’t one to brag, but he also knew just how much effort he put into each of his recipes.
Tonight everyone was coming over to celebrate the bakery’s first anniversary. Simon and Izzy had promised to bring takeout for dinner, Magnus was supplying the wine, and really Alec was glad that they had made their weekly dinners tradition. They had even started calling them family dinners – after all, at some point they all realized they had become each other’s family.
“Hey, do you want to grab drink before the others get here?” Alec asked Magnus once he had out the dough away and washed up.
“You know the way to my heart, Alexander,” Magnus replied, hopping off the counter but stopping in front of Alec before crossing over to the front of the shop with a whistle. “Damn.”
Alec followed Magnus’ gaze to the window, where a veritable downpour was assaulting the side of the bakery. Alec turned back to face Magnus, who had a twinkle in his eye.
“Looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while.”
Magnus leaned in with a smile, pressing his lips to Alec’s and loosely threading his fingers through the dark strands at the nape of his neck. Alec’s hands rose to cup Magnus’ jaw as he reciprocated, memorizing his cheekbones with his thumbs. Magnus’ whole body seemed to sigh into the gesture, lowering from his tiptoes, Alec automatically leaning down in response. Magnus eventually pulled away, giving Alec a final peck before nestling his head against Alec’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, Alec resting his head against Magnus’, arms around each other, silently reconnecting, their breaths coming to match.
Alec was starting to think he could fall asleep like this when the front door blew open and then slammed shut.
“Wow, it’s really coming down!”
Alec recognized Izzy’s voice, followed by several others.
He and Magnus had startled upright at the sudden sound, and now untangled their arms as they moved to meet the others, Alec squeezing Magnus’ hand before stepping into the front of the shop, Magnus right behind him.
“We’ve got takeout!” Simon announced, lifting the bags in his hands when he spotted Alec and Magnus.
“Wait, put those on the table before you get them more wet – your jacket is dripping everywhere,” Clary said as she slipped out of her rain boots.
“We’re all dripping everywhere, Fray,” Simon shot back at his best friend, setting the food on the table anyway.
Alec waited for rain-soaked jackets to be shucked off before moving to hug his family, Jace and Maia helping to set the food on the table while Alec procured places and cutlery.
Once everyone was settled, Izzy lifted her wineglass.
“A toast to Alec for one year of this amazing bakery. May you continue to bring joy to people’s lives and may this bakery see many more anniversaries!”
“Cheers!” Everyone chorused, clinking glasses.
“And may we continue to get free baked goods with the family discount!” Jace added, a pleased grin on his face as the others laughed.
The evening continued as most family dinners did, with teasing and catching up and a little gossiping (Maia’s petty co-worker had finally been fired for her incompetence). Though Alec took a few chances to make a dig at Jace or congratulate Clary on her newest piece of art sold, he mostly enjoyed being able to sit in the warmth of the room, basking in the family he would have never thought he’d come to call his own.
Once everyone had said their goodbyes for the night, Alec found himself loading the dishwasher, Magnus bringing him the dirty plates from the table. As he finished up and set the appliance to run, he turned to see Magnus fiddling with Alec’s phone.
“What are you doing?” he asked, curious.
Magnus smiled mischievously, though Alec noted a splash of colour on his cheeks as well.
“Come here, disco princess.”
With a tap of his thumb, Magnus set down Alec’s phone on the counter and the sweet synth of How Deep is Your Love filled the room. Magnus reached out a hand toward him, and Alec’s gaze softened as he pulled Magnus close, swaying easily to the ballad.
“I wanna feel you in my arms again…” Alec heard Magnus sing, head pressed against his chest.
Alec felt his smile widen, letting out a soft chuckle.
“So maybe I’m a disco princess too,” Magnus confessed, pulling away just enough to look up at Alec as they continued dancing around the kitchen.
“’Cause we’re living in a world of fools, breaking us down…” Alec held Magnus’ gaze as he sang the words, breaking off at the end of the chorus to press a gentle kiss to Magnus’ lips. When he pulled away, he was surprised to find tears in his eyes.
“Sorry,” he laughed, succeeding only in making the tears run onto his cheeks. “I guess disco brings out the sap in me.”
He made to wipe his hand across his face, but instead Magnus brushed his tears aside with his thumbs. He stroked the back of his hand against his face, and Alec found himself leaning into the gesture as fresh tears rose to his eyes.
“What is it?” Magnus asked quietly.
Alec shook his head, holding Magnus’ gaze.
“I guess I just never thought I could be this happy,” Alec admitted. “I never thought that I’d find you, or our ridiculous family that I love, or be able to do work I’m good at while helping people.”
Alec took a deep breath, unsteady on the inhale but sure on the exhale.
“Alexander,” Magnus whispered tenderly, his hand stilled in place.
“I love you, Magnus,” Alec said earnestly, much too earnestly.
But Magnus only smiled at him contentedly.
“I love you too, Alexander.”
Magnus wrapped his arms loosely around Alec’s neck, and Alec let his arms fall to Magnus’ waist. They continued to sway to the music, both singing along.
When the ballad turned into a disco dance song, they let out their grooviest moves, laughing at themselves in the half-lit kitchen as the rain continued to pour down.
okay the pitch for this is going to spoil the twist a bit, but basically I wanted to write a story that started off very very slice of life domestic cuteness.... then at the end of the first act hard left-turns into a magical murder mystery. i'm going to try to just bang this out. I think the beginning is going to get a total rewrite later, once I have a better feel for the story? but at the moment it's about putting words on the page.
the first few of these will also go on tumblr, but eventually they will be patron-exclusive. this is one of two stories i’m working on for patreon. you can join up here.
Juniper went through a full gambit of hobbies until he finally settled on the one that worked. And it wound up being baking mostly by derth of the price of materials.
He had always needed things to do, unobtrusive little ways to carve out his own time and space from the world. When his hands were still, he felt smaller, less dense, almost less real.
The problem was only exacerbated by the… belated timeline of his adulthood. Before he could escape off to college, buy independence for the simple price of student loans, he was roped into family obligations. As the only nephew of an ailing aunt, Juniper was compelled to move in with Aunt Gail. It wasn’t right for her to live alone while she was having her seizures, after all, and Juniper didn’t have any other pressing matters, no job or immediate prospects, so it was obvious he would move in.
For over a year, Juniper lived in the guest room downstairs of his aunt. For over a year, he was stuck with four walls that were painted a bright blue that was decidedly not him. For over a year, he mostly tried to stay out of his aunt’s way, aware she was annoyed at his presence, at the perceived loss of autonomy.
‘You and me both,’ Juniper often thought in unwanted sympathy.
And so he tried his hand at everything he could. Knitting wound up being fiendishly difficult. Crochet was too mind-numbing to keep the claustrophobia at bay. Gardening was pleasant enough, and he stuck with it for months, but it didn’t take up enough of the day unless he wanted to become quite serious about the matter, and at that point the entry price rose sharply.
Art was a series of aggravations, as Juniper tried his hand at sketching and painting and writing, only to be disappointed by the results.
Yoga, to his surprise, helped him feel much calmer than usual, but the only space large enough for it was the living room, and he was simply too body conscious for his aunt’s gaze.
And so: baking.
Baking was a fiddly, difficult thing, but had a very low barrier to entry when Juniper got started. A large bag of flour and packets of yeast were easy to keep on hand, and arguing with breads whiled away plenty of hours.
Most cookbooks had baking instructions in them, tucked behind all the cooking recipes. Aunt Gail had plenty of those, as she had long since reached the age where cookbooks became safe, inoffensive gifts. So, Juniper soon discovered the joys of icebox cookies, how he could freeze a log of dough and later cut off discs to turn into fresh, warm cookies whenever he wanted (and without consigning himself to eating a whole batch alone).
Then, he used his allowance to buy a microplane instead of a lemon zester, because a forum post said it was more versatile. And since he had a microplane, it was easier to justify buying a whole nutmeg seed for the first time.
It was worth it. God, it was worth it, for the scent and taste of nutmeg as he grated it directly into a bowl.
These things snowballed was the point. Collecting the things he needed was a long string of small purchases, adding to the craft. And he was good at it, was the best thing. Juniper loved baking in a way he hadn’t loved anything before in his life. Which perhaps was depressing on some level, but it was hard to be sad when he was working through a recipe or whisking meringue to firm peaks or glaring balefully at his latest sourdough experiment.
It all made the weight of his stalled life feel lighter. He was advancing, getting better at something, from amateur to home cook to a splendidly competent self-taught baker.
Aunt Gail died in her sleep of a heart attack, 15 months after Juniper has moved in to the downstairs guest room. Juniper found her as he dutifully brought up her morning coffee, arranged on a tray with a warm croissant, split with honey drizzled across the inner flesh.
All of it went cold.
=
After funeral and burial and will-reading, Juniper packed his bags and put all of his baking accouterments into boxes, and moved to the city, using his saved up allowance from Aunt Gail to pay first and last month’s rent on a decent studio.
This, he felt, was what it must feel like to be an indoor cat that finally escaped into the yard. He was free, and bereft of direction or purpose. The world was suddenly so large.
=
The Steeping Night was a tea house pressed snugly between a boutique clothing shop and a lighting store. It had a custom facade of navy wood and brass fixtures. It was positioned perfectly to let sunlight in through the colorfully tinted windows, casting the hues across the hardwood floors, clashing merrily with the overlapping array of rugs.
It was the sort of place that Juniper knew existed; he saw they on social media, captured in portrait-sized pictures and coated in special filters. They must have existed in reality somewhere. He just… never expected to live in that reality, honestly.
Beyond the beautiful dark paint, and the walls covered in notes and prints and paintings, and the heavy round wooden tables, and the really convenient distance from Juniper’s apartment, there was one problem. The baked goods in the Steeping Night were dull. Not even fully terrible, but certainly mediocre and forgettable. Juniper enjoyed having something to eat with his tea, but the offerings in the shop were so dire…
… Eventually, he just sort of brought his own.
He was sitting at one of the tables with a very fine, golden oolong, enjoying one of his own scones from his bag, quietly absorbing the atmosphere of the shop as he read the bulletin board on the wall. Yoga classes, tarot readings, a sign advertizing the sale of nebulous ‘fresh materials.’ It was a load of new age-y stuff Juniper didn’t know much about. It all seemed loads more interesting than what he’d grown up with, though.
As he idled his way through his cup of tea, someone pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.
It was the proprietor, the woman who had steeped the tea for him, settling into the chair. Her hands folded in front of her, resting on the table. “This is a terrible insult you’ve brought through my door.”
Juniper gawped at her for a moment, mostly just stunned someone broke the tentative public privacy of his little bubble. That seemed against the unspoken laws of cafes, tea houses, and coffee shops. “I— I’m sorry?”
“Never apologize when you don’t know the offense.” She lifted her chin elegantly. “You’ve begun bringing your own food to eat here.”
Why did Juniper think that would just slide under the radar? It was a pretty obvious thing, maybe not to other patrons of the Steeping Night, but certainly to the person he exchanged currency with for goods. Of course she would notice. “I’m, yes, I have, I’m s—sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. God, it’s like bringing food into the theatre,” Juniper said, remorse drowning his voice.
The woman held up a finger, fitted with multiple silver rings. “Worse, actually. A theatre’s primary objective is to show you movies in a dark room. Bringing food in is only counter to their auxiliary goal of concessions. My shop, however, has the goal of selling you tea and baked goods. So you are directly dodging one of my main revenue streams,” she said, brisk and confident. Resting her hand back on the table, she caught the edge of Juniper’s snack bag with two fingers, pulling it over. “What did you bring in, and where did you get it? I can’t get a decent contract for food around here, there’s no nearby bakeries.”
“I didn’t!” Juniper said, pressing his fists against his chest, taking a deep but shaking breath. “I made them, I don’t— Even I wouldn’t do something that crass, just bringing in food from another place, th—th—that’s beyond the pale, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it would be a severe social crime,” she said, nodding, now opening the bag and sniffing. “Nutmeg, cardamon, clove.” Without any compunction at all, she took one of the small. half-palm-sized scones out, holding it balanced between three fingers. “Is there licorice in this?”
"Good. I’m allergic.” With a stern nod, she took a bite from the scone. Chewing slowly, she held the rest up to her eyes, examining the crumbly texture.
This was very weird, Juniper thought. But also, he thought, perhaps this was what he was owed. A cosmic law of transgression being settled.
Swallowing, she said, “You made this. The texture is excellent. What’s the glaze?”
Juniper opened his mouth, then stopped, aware he was about to stutter again. Taking a second to gather himself, he said, “I was trying to make a chai scone, so I put the spices in the dough, but it wasn’t really coming through very well. so I made a— a— an actual cup of chai tea, then mixed it with powdered sugar.”
“Are you a professional?”
“A professional what?”
“Baker.”
Juniper frowned. “No?”
“What’s your job?”
Again, he opened his mouth to reply, then stopped, reconsidering. “I… I think I’ve made a mistake here, obviously, by bringing in outside food. But I also think I may have paid enough for that with— with this, uh, confrontation?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “That’s very astute.”
“I guess. Sorry,” he apologized again. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because this scone is already better than anything in my food case, and like I said, all my bakery contracts keep falling through.” She popped the other half of the scone into her mouth, which struck Juniper as an almost terrifying level of fearlessness. “I’m Meira,” she said when she’d finished, holding out her hand, palm open.
“Juniper.” He shook her hand.
She held it tightly for a moment, eyeing the back of his hand severely before letting go. “I admit that I assumed you would allow me to steamroll you a little longer, until I heard the information I wanted. Now I have to act like a real person and ask directly,” she said, and Juniper immediately marveled at the idea that real people acted like this. “Are you looking for work?”
“I’m… not sure?”
“Have you completed a food safety course?”
“No.” He… hadn’t known those were a thing.
“That’s fine, it doesn’t take that long,” Meira said. “Do that, then we can talk hiring.”
Hiring? “Wait, wait, slow down? Please?”
Meira leaned forward on her elbows. “I need a baker. I don’t like hiring anyone I have not laid eyes on first. Gotten a sense of them. Also, it is Mabon tomorrow, and I’ve nothing to show for it, so I’m taking this as a sign.”
“I don’t know what Mabon is,” he said.
“With a name like that, I assumed you were a heathen.” She shot him an exasperated, blatantly fond look. “You’re not Christian, are you?”
“No,” Juniper said immediately, then balked at himself. “I mean, I don’t know?”
Meira laughed. Her voice was very deep. “You’re definitely not. That’s good enough for me.” Standing, she said, “You were right about recompense. I was owed an inch; I took a mile. I’ll get you another cup of tea.”
