#holiday biscuit recipe

[vegan-nom-noms]

Perfect Vegan Gingerbread Cookies

[askwhatsforlunch]

Festive Baking

Today is Saint-Nicholas Day, celebrated across Europe, from Germany to France, Belgium to Switzerland and the Netherlands (on the 5th December for our Dutch friends), and thus I reckon it's a good day to start indulging in Festive Baking! My Christmas Pudding is maturing in the dark and won't be revealed until Christmas Eve or Day, but whilst we wait, there is plenty of time for spiced biscuits, crisp meringues, soft saffron brioches or mouth-watering custard tartlets! And you can even bake a batch of vanilla, chocolate or gingerbread bikkies to decorate your tree --we are getting ours this weekend! It's cold outside, and it is a season for being nice to yourselves, your friends and loved-ones, and nothing says "I love you" like a plate of freshly baked little pies filled with the right amount of sultanas and flaky pastry (especially when your girlfriend designed a recipe specially to cater to your moderate appreciation of aforementioned sultanas!) Have fun baking, friends, and even more fun eating these beauties!

 Lebkuchen 

Pastéis de Nata 

 Ava’s Mince Pies 

Saint Nicholas Meringue Mushrooms 

Croissants and Chocolate Croissants 

Cranberry Rolls 

Stained Glass Honey Biscuits 

Apricot, Nut and Seed Florentines 

Chocolate Chip and Caramel Cookies 

Christmas Tree Vanilla Cookies

Salted Caramel Marshmallows 

Homemade Skor Bars

Christmas Tree Chocolate Cookies and Icewine Stained Glass Chocolate Cookies

Lussekatter (St. Lucia Buns) 

Marrons Glacés (Candied Chestnuts)

[thetockablog]

Melting Moments

Melting Moments Ingredients250g unsalted butter, softened50g icing sugar, sifted250g cake flour, sifted60g cornflour, sifted1 tsp vanilla extract200g milk chocolate, melted MethodHeat the oven to 190°C, prepare two baking trays with baking paper, and set aside.In a stand mixer, beat the butter till smooth, sift in the icing sugar, and continue to beat till pale and fluffy, 4-5 minutes.Sift in…

[anotherandomspaceontheinterweb]

Pumpkin Biscuits Pumpkin biscuits are a staple in our holiday bread basket.

[creedtimeline-br]

Pumpkin Biscuits Pumpkin biscuits are a staple in our holiday bread basket. 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg, 2.5 cups all-purpose flour, 1/2 cup butter sliced, 1 tablespoon baking powder, 2 cups pumpkin puree, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger, 3 tablespoons packed brown sugar, 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

[beautiful-rainyday]

Peanut Butter and Banana Dog Biscuits Crisp and crunchy, these easy-to-make, rolled, cut-out dog cookies combine peanut butter, honey, and an egg with whole wheat flour and wheat germ.

[kedreeva]

There are good things in this world still

Today, I picked up my deer from the processor, so I am set for red meat for an entire year. While I was there, I also picked up a jar of raw honey from a local apiarist, and some pasties and chorizo for my partner.

Today, on my way home I stopped in at a local small bakery I had always seen but never stopped in. The little old lady behind the counter was very sweet, everything was incredibly pink, and I got myself two muffins (banana nut my beloved, and an apple cinnamon) and two chocolate covered pretzel sticks. I ate the pretzels on the way home, and I'm looking forward to the muffins being part of tomorrow's good things. She also makes biscuits and gravy to go, so I MIGHT have to stop in again actually.

Today, I made myself a cup of hot cocoa from a mix I made myself, off a recipe for powdered mix I found here on tumblr. I mixed half a candycane, broken into small pieces, into it to make it peppermint hot cocoa.

Today, I mailed a greeting card to a friend of mine that has been sending me a family holiday card for years. They're not your typical holiday card; they're spooky and weird, and I absolutely adore them. I finally found a spooky greeting card to send back, sealed it with weird forest creature stickers, and used a D&D Forever stamp of a scary tree. This is gift to her, and a gift to future me when she gets it and tells me.

Today, I cleaned the house and now I get to relax in my nice clean space, sipping my hot cocoa, with a full freezer and a sweet breakfast lined up for the morning so Future Me can be a little happier, too.

There are good things left in this world, however small. This is your opportunity to reblog this and share your good things with each other, or check the notes if you need a reminder.

[lialacleaf]

Simon Riley X Reader: Domestic Headcanons: Baking

Warnings: Simon misses his Mum :c, fluffy

Pt.2

Simon has very few fond memories of his family but he remembers how his Mum used to cook during the holidays, and would always involve him in the food prep to distract him from his Dad's foul mood.

After losing his family, cooking just isn't the same without his Mum, and even if he isn't on a mission he tries to avoid being in the kitchen because it just aches for him.

But then you come along, working on base under Laswell and Simon constantly hears you fiddling around in the kitchen. He avoids investigating like the plague for the first few weeks but eventually, his curiosity gets the better of him.

He finds you covered in flour in mid-October, making a pumpkin pie crust from scratch, and has to just stand there for a moment and watch in befuddlement as you swear at the bowl you just tipped over.

There's something bubbling on the stove, and you're too distracted to notice that your simmer pot is going to boil over. You've got a mix of orange and lemon slices with diced apple and cinnamon sticks. It's just like how his Mum used to make them.

The click of the stove dial has you jumping, having not noticed the shadowy figure of Ghost slipping into the kitchen.

"Heat's too high," he says, and you blink at him in confusion before understanding settles on your pretty face.

"Shoot! I...forgot to turn that down when I..." you gestured awkwardly to the bowl of flour and he tilts his masked chin downwards at you.

You give him an awkward smile before returning to the task of making your dough.

He doesn't leave immediately, just watches you struggle a bit with kneading the dough before he huffs and yanks his gloves off, pushing you to the side as he surprises you by properly kneading the dough, and laying it in the pie pan perfectly.

You watch him from the corner of your eye as you finish making the filling, and add it to the pie crust.

You can hardly believe that you're baking a pie with Lieutenant Ghost. You shrug it off however and pull two mugs from the cupboard, filling them both with the contents of your pot, however, when you turn around to offer him one, he's already gone.

The second time you're in the kitchen making apple turnovers for your co-worker's birthday, the window is open for you to enjoy an early November rainy day, and you're in your coziest pair of socks.

You almost don't recognize him, jumping at the sight of the tall blonde man who has materialized out of thin air to peel your apples. His eyes peek at you over the top of a black surgical mask, and you feel your heart stop, then start up again with a disjointed stutter as you take in the familiar chocolatey color.

He doesn't say anything, just peels the apples until the bag is empty. You reach for the last one and realize there's no Leuitenant to be seen.

The third time he joins you you're trying to perfect your gravy recipe. Most of the base's inhabitants have gone home for the holidays, but the few that have remained are planning a Thanksgiving potluck.

"You're still here." He actually makes you jump.

"Couldn't afford plane tickets for Christmas and Thanksgiving, and I'm not missing my Dad's pumpkin log and hot cocoa," you explain

He hums softly, leaning against the counter as he examines your cheese biscuits.

Your eyes widen slightly when you see him pull the surgical mask down just enough to take a large bite of the biscuit he nabbed off the tray.

You're greeted with the sight of a sharp jaw and full lips, and you quickly pull your eyes away, focusing on the gravy in your pot.

Something doesn't taste quite right, and you frown softly. Ghost leans over to take a deep whiff, bumping your shoulder in the process.

"You added salt?"

You offer him a deadpan expression.

"Scoot," he orders, pushing you aside and fishing a spoon out of the drawer. He nods to himself after a taste and proceeds to add a hefty helping of rosemary.

You try not to think about the fact that you've never seen his face before now as you try his concoction. It's not bad. "Where'd you learn how to cook, Ghost?"

He stares deeply at you for a few seconds, before he sets the spoon in the sink. "My Mum."

He leaves you after that, and you doubt you're going to see him at the potluck.

You don't see him in the kitchen again until December, and you're baking snickerdoodles to leave the boys with when you return to your family.

He's avoided the kitchen for a few weeks, and you're strangely relieved to see him lurking there.

"Wanted to give you this before you left."

He holds out a carefully wrapped package, and you accept it with a dumbfounded expression. He's out the door again before you've even thanked him.

A few days later you're sitting in the armchair of your parents' house, a pile of unwrapped presents at your feet as you carefully tear away the paper concealing the Leuitenant's gift. You're greeted with the sight of an old leather-bound book, one filled with handwritten recipes you realize upon closer inspection and an elegant Mrs. Riley engraved on the front page.

You have a feeling Ghost will be joining you in the kitchen more often. Maybe even Simon.

AN: Requests are always open!

[muppetallica]

More William Afton x Reader headcanons because I am a whore with daddy issues

His body is majestic, for lack of a better word.

Thick thighs, muscular arms, delightfully veiny hands.

William's chest and arms are decorated with a myriad of scars. Some are from previous accidental springlock failures. He can be incredibly self-conscious of them at times, so you always make sure to emphasize how much you love them, taking extra care to press kisses to the sensitive area, stating how they never make you think any differently of him.

(His v-line is positively to die for.)

This man has the most adorable happy trail and I will die on this hill.

William loves, loves, LOVES hickies and love bites. On you, on him, it doesn't matter. It makes him feel owned and gives him an outlet to be possessive of you in a way everyone can see.

If you ever make him a bracelet he will never take it off.

He will melt into a puddle if you ever refer to him as any cringey name. Specifically, ones referring to him being your husband.

William will never admit it, but he loves to cuddle.

He's always warm. Cuddling with William is like having your own personal weighted, heated blanket.

Loves taking baths and showers with you, in a wholesome context or otherwise. He would want to do everything for you, washing your hair and your body, drying you off, and rubbing fancy lotions into your skin.

William is a sucker for food made from scratch. He will very easily put on a few extra pounds during the holidays.

Huge sweet tooth. Cake, cookies, candy, you name it, he'll eat it.

(I'm imagining William going feral for southern cooking. He'd think some things were iffy at first, but end up gobbling it all up. Especially biscuits and gravy. Any sweets that were a family recipe would have him on his knees too.)

Per my title, William would love a reader with daddy issues. He'd say all the right things to get you ticking.

Without a doubt, William would love spoiling his partner. He's gotta do something with all that money, and dressing you up and spoiling you is his favorite thing to do. Expect fancy beauty products, trinkets, nice clothes and shoes, lingerie, toys, and anything that would make his girl happy.

William would love to pick out your outfits, making you feel like a porcelain doll while he plays build a bear.

Thank you so much for reading and for all the support on my first set of headcanons!

[ceratedfish24]

raises mic 2 u. snowangel headcanons?

(I have one that i'll share: their relationship p much kicked off in limited life when, one night, skizz couldn't sleep, so went out to the beach to get some air. coincidentally there was a certain fish in the water... Scott made and carved an intricate netherite sword for skizz as an apology for the boogey kill. it couldn't exactly be used on the LiL server (op + had some Old Galactic enchants like loyalty, which is non-applicable on the Life servers), but it carried over into every other server skizz joined. with that rather over-the-top gift, the conversation... spiralled. and ended with them the next morning making cookies and being gay)

That is SO cute and they ABSOLUTELY bake together. Skizz can’t follow a recipe he doesn’t make every other day to save his life. Scott doesn’t need a recipe. He knows most basic recipes by heart.

My personal headcanons?

Scott is REALLY good at hiding that something’s bothering him, but Skizz can read him like a book. Skizz might not be the most observant person, but his people skills are like no other. Scott used to be surprised and dismissive whenever Skizz called him out on it, but now he just collapses into Skizz’s arms, knowing that there’s no point in hiding that something, no matter how small, is upsetting him.

Skizz has mentioned that he could fall asleep in Scott’s arms, and so I absolutely headcanon that, when Skizz can’t fall asleep, he lays his head in Scott’s lap and asks Scott to sing for him. Scott will drop anything and everything to do this whenever asked.

Scott bought Skizz a whole new wardrobe. Dragged him to every store and made him try on so many clothes. Skizz was just happy to be there. He struck over exaggerated poses every time he showed Scott a new outfit. Scott clapped and cheered and hummed and hawed the whole time.

Scott and Skizz have completely different family favorite dishes. Sharing them with one another is a very important part of their relationship. Skizz comes from a world of meats and roasted vegetables and biscuits and gravy. Scott comes from a world of various pastas and steamed vegetables and different ways of serving rice. They like their own food, but they really love the other’s food, and cooking for each other and with each other is always the highlight of their day.

Scott loves to go all out for the holidays. Whether it’s Halloween, Christmas, Valentines, New Years, whatever, he goes all out. Skizz isn’t the type of guy who’s self motivated to put up decorations, but he does enjoy the decorations and putting work into something that makes his hardworking sweetheart of a partner so happy.

Skizz and Scott are both very social people. They’re the ones who put on holiday parties and Friendsgiving every year. Most couples would stress out about this and divide tasks unevenly and get frustrated, but I genuinely don’t think Skizz and Scott would struggle with this. With their experience, Skizz would immediately have a prioritized list of everything that needs to get done, Scott has a vision about how he thinks it should look, Skizz inherently trusts Scott’s vision and helps Scott get everything he needs, and then Skizz and Scott work together to make it all happen and it’s a hit every time. Scott is so grateful not to have to take complete charge of every event he wants to put on, and Skizz is so grateful to have someone with such an artistic mind grace his life like this.

Scott is a book lover, so Skizz built him a beautiful old-fashion style bookshelf. Skizz swears that Scott loves the bookshelf more than he loves Skizz.

These two for SURE go for walks. They’ll walk anywhere. They love to walk through parks. They love to walk on boardwalks. They love to window shop. It’s one of their favorite ways to wind down together.

They share a scarf when it’s cold. Skizz often forgets that they are sharing a scarf and will try to wander away or bend down. Scott is offended every time.

Skizz is not the type of guy to start a fight when it really matters. When it comes down to it, Skizz is a professional at de-escalating a situation and handling it maturely. In a game, though? Skizz will defend Scott’s honor to no end, die about it, and dramatically fall over with declarations of loyalty and peace with his decisions.

Scott isn’t the type of guy to start a fight either. He is the type of guy to get you fired if you insult his man badly enough, regardless of whether or not your career is relevant to the offense you’re being fired for. Nobody ever knows that it’s him who does it. Not even Skizz realizes this is happening. Scott didn’t start this feud, but he will end it and in one single move.

Skizz isn’t usually a sweets guy, but Scott is a “what if we got a sweet little treat🥺” guy, and Skizz gives in every single time.

Scott is a passenger prince, and Skizz willingly sets up the passenger seat with blankets, snacks, drinks, and stuff to do. Scott never expects it, and he’s grateful every time.

Scott is a clean freak. Skizz isn’t a dirty person, but he’s also not a clean freak. It doesn’t bother Skizz, and Scott uses it as an excuse to have something to do when he’s overwhelmed and Skizz isn’t home.

Skizz took Scott to a carnival, and it was the first time Scott had ever been on a ferris wheel. He’s not particularly afraid of heights. He just has never had much a reason to go on one. It seems like such a two or more people activity, and Scott just never had someone else want to go. He doesn’t realize that people aren’t exaggerating how romantic it can be until he’s up at the top with Skizz’s arms wrapped around him.

Their first kiss happened because Skizz offhandedly said something that made Scott laugh, and Skizz unconsciously zeroed in on the sound of Scott’s laugh and kissed him without even thinking about it. The sound of Scott’s laugh and the mirth in his eyes was just too overwhelming for Skizz. He pulled back immediately afterwards, but Scott wouldn’t let him go.

I know they’re the same height, but Skizz is slightly taller to me.

Skizz will kiss Scott ANYWHERE. Scott’s hands are a common place, but anywhere that is Scott and that is available in the moment is free game to Skizz.

Skizz didn’t know how to dance before he got with Scott, and now they dance everyday, even if it’s just swaying while one of them hums with a frozen lasagna in the oven.

Skizz loves cheesy mugs, and Scott keeps indulging him. They have a dedicated mug cabinet. Everyone else keeps calling them crazy, but Scott insists that no one can talk about his boyfriend like that.

Skizz was not a jewelry guy before he met Scott. Scott gifts Skizz so much jewelry, and Skizz can’t deny that Scott knows what he’s doing. That man has taste. Every piece so naturally enhances Skizz’s style, and, best of all, they always remind him of Scott, wherever he goes. He got his ears re-pierced for Scott.

Scott is a ring gay irl (we are KIN), and I completely headcanon that with his character. Skizz takes notice of the rings he wears the most often and buys him so many more. Every one that Skizz buys him is Scott’s favorite. Skizz knows Scott’s ring size per finger by heart. This information will be very useful when Skizz wants to propose.

Also, with the amount of work Scott does everyday, Skizz totally bought him a gorgeous blue pen with Scott’s name engraved on it. The ink shimmers without glittering. It’s just enough dramatic flair. Scott has not used a different pen since Skizz gave this to him.

Skizz is a complete sports head. Scott can’t name even one single sport, but he will be damned if he doesn’t support Skizz’s interests. He makes so much food every time Impulse comes over to watch a game. He buys tickets to see local games. He has NO idea what’s going on, but, if it’s men’s sports, he’ll point at the player he thinks is the hottest. Skizz will then, playfully, blow up about why Skizz himself is the hottest, thank you very much, and lather Scott’s face with kisses that tickle. Scott may not know sports, but he does educate himself a little on Skizz’s favorite teams and their players and history. He’s nothing if not supportive.

They’re not a “I need to bite you” couple, but Scott is a “I need to feel you” partner. He’ll sporadically and frantically grab onto Skizz throughout the day. It’s his dose of exercising his right, as Skizz’s boyfriend, to have casual touch with Skizz without it seeming weird. At first, Skizz would stop what he’s doing or saying whenever it happened and ask Scott if he’s okay. Scott’s response is to stare into space for several seconds and then return to what he’s doing. Now, Skizz doesn’t so much as bat an eye when this happens. If anyone asks why Scott does it, Skizz will say that Scott has magic powers and is “analyzing my genetics to figure out how I’m so sexy”. Scott will say “cause I can and no one thinks it’s that strange. Could you imagine if you did it to Skizz? Weird. I’d have to kill you.”

Skizz is a sitcoms guy. Scott is a musicals guy. This does not stop them from getting entirely too invested in the other’s preferred form of media.

Scott loves to take pictures of Skizz, but he always forgets to take pictures of himself. He’s very subtle about it. His camera roll is full of pictures of Skizz, both photogenic ones and not. When Skizz is gone at night, whether working late or on a trip, and Scott can’t sleep, Scott scrolls through his favorite pictures of Skizz.

Skizz tends to be an “in the moment” guy, but, when Scott is particularly photogenic and in amazing lighting, Skizz yells “STAY RIGHT THERE. DON’T MOVE. DON’T CHANGE YOUR EXPRESSION.” Scott will freeze, but his face will do that thing he does where he’s smiling like everything’s okay, but his eyes are wide and unsure and looking around frantically. Skizz will then spend over five minutes trying to find his phone, which is in his pocket the whole time.

Skizz gets frustrated when he has bad days. He sighs a lot and gets more pessimistic than normal and gets angry about little things. Scott’s response is to cup his face press his forehead head to Skizz’s and take deep breaths until Skizz leans into him. Then, they talk about Skizz’s day.

Scott gets teary eyed and anxious on his bad days. He frets about things he usually doesn’t, and he over analyzes every little interaction he has with everybody. He bites his nails, does chores, and grabs onto Skizz more often. When Skizz starts seeing these behaviors, he hugs Scott really tight for several seconds and then softens the hug as a way of releasing all the tension in Scott’s body. Scott melts every time, and he usually falls asleep ten minutes later, exhausted from all that stress.

Scott’s hair is naturally blue. Skizz didn’t know this until he wanted to dye his own hair the same shade just to get a reaction out of Scott. When he couldn’t find Scott’s hair dye, he confronted him about it like a kid who just found out that their parents put the cookie jar on a shelf they can’t reach. Scott laughed so hard.

Skizz is an outdoors person. Scott is not. Scott does it anyway, because you can’t keep your outdoor dog (Skizz) inside all day. It’s just not healthy. He tries to release bugs back into the wild, but he screams every time they move. It always makes Skizz laugh.

Scott has a playlist for absolutely everything. He has never played his Skizz💙 playlist in front of Skizz. He has absolutely played it in front of Cleo, Joel, Gem, Lizzie, and Martyn to the point where they are so sick of it. They unwillingly know every song on that damn list. Joel and Martyn are working together to play it in front of Skizz. It will never work.

Y’all, Skizz has angel wings and Scott has snow owl wings from Empires SMP Season 1. They can preen each other. Their bed is specifically made for people with wings. Also, both of their wings come from divine sources. I’m sure there’s some kind of holy oil or something that Scott washes his wings with once a week that Skizz knows nothing about. Skizz’s wings are so messy. Scott is appalled. He has to teach Skizz proper wing care.

Thank you for reading my ramble!! I wrote a lot because I didn’t want to give you like three if you were expecting more, but then I couldn’t stop💙🩵

[honey-minded-hivemind]

The X-Men The Animated Series/'97 Friendsgiving Special:

• It's a bit chilly outside, but it doesn't matter much. The air is crisp and clean, the fireplace has a warm, burning fire in its center, and everyone is together for today...

• Reader has been trying to make a dish for the potluck, making sure their lemon pie is tangy and sweet and sets. They spent the early morning hours making it, and now they set it in the fridge to cool for the next few hours. They're not the only one scrambling to finish for the potluck.l, though

• Remy has been trying to make gumbo since dawn, adding in the spices and meats and vegetables and muttering hurriedly to himself. He tastes it every now and again, trying to make sure it tastes perfect. He's in a warm pink sweater, and his hair is is tied up, his eyes focused on the task at hand...

• Jean finished her gift to the potluck the night before, a sweet potato casserole, which hopefully is more flavorful than last year's Christmas dinner. She spent a lot of time trying to get it right, so they'll all try some, and thank her for making it... She's wearing earrings with small acorns dangling from them, amd her sweater has a turkey on it...

• Scott had prepared a soup, regular chicken noodle, and it smelled good. It was left to simmer on thr back eye of the stove, and he uses the fun shaped pasta pieces in it this time. He was still a bit strict today, but he was smiling, and it was nice to see him happy for a change...

• Logan had hunted a deer for this occasion, and spent thr while week making jerky. Reader had tried a piece, and it tasted amazing. A bit tough, but all jerky is, with the perfect smoky, salty flavor. He was proud of himself, and the team was, too. He was wearing flannel today, in red and black, and seemed to be a bit more relaxed than normal...

• Morph was in charge of the mashed potatoes, and they took great strieds to make them the best. They added butter, salt, pepper, even sour cream, into the pot, and they seemed pleased when they tried a bit. They were dressed in a sweatshirt with fall leaves on it, and they kept making turkey jokes throughout the day...

• Storm had made a turkey, using garlic and salt and baste, stuffing it, and it was to cook until dinner was ready... it smelled heavenly, amd she had to swat away anyone who tried to steal a bite when she checked it's temperature. She wore a white sweater with golden thread running through it...

• Rogue had made a pecan pie, and Reader had to stop themself from drooling at the warm, nutty scent in the air. She kept it on the table, and made small talk with Remy, the two eventually evolving into playful banter. Rogue qore a maroon sweatshirt with a cardinal on it...

•Hank had made some sausage balls, happily explaining his recipe for them as he set the bowl down. They smelled like sausage biscuits, and he let Reader, Jubilee, and Roberto try one when no one was looking. They tasted like a warm house and sleepy holidays. Hank was wearing a mustard yellow sweater, with specks of black and brown dotting it...

•Jubilee and Roberto were in charge of the punch, amd the two kept excitedly chattering about what to add. Reader spotted lemons, oranges, cherries, and limes in it, and were asked to taste test it. It tasted like a citrus explosion, with hints of club soda and fruit punch. The two were wearing matching sweaters, both bright yellow with orange leaves on the sleeves...

• Reader was happy to see Cable, Bishop, amd Forge show up, each mumbling about being home for the holidays. Jean and Scott hugged Cable tightly, while Hank and Storm were quick to start up conversation with Forge, and Bishop and Logan went about trying to taste the food, being swatted away by Rogue while Remy waved his spoon at them, light crackling along it...

• It was a surprise when The Professor and Magneto came down, both wearing ugly Christmas sweaters, and both saying they'd invited Erik's children to come by... it wasn't much later when Pietro zoomed in, followed by Wanda and Lorna, who carried a box of sugar cookies and gingerbread, saying they'd decides to stop by, if only to cause a ruckus...

• Reader had been outside, taking a breather, when they spotted Mystique sneaking through the front doors... and they were quick to startle when they saw Sabretooth staring at the mansion from the woods. They were happy to wander inside after that...

• Kurt showed up at the last minute, happily asking about the holiday, and bamfing around the mansion, hanging decorations and calling our to Rogue and Logan and Morph to watch them... he wore a bright orange sweater, and smiled brightly when he saw Rogue and Remy getting along...

• Once dinner was ready, everyone was squeezed into the dining room, pulling out the chairs and setting out the dishes. Jean, Scott, and Cable were sat together, by The Professor amd Magneto, with Wanda and Pietro and Lorna on their other side; Logan and Morph, as well as Jubilee and Roberto, were sitting together, on the other side of the Summers-Grey Family; Forge, Storm, Hank, and Bishop were sat across from them, happy to discuss the history of the turkey; Rogue, Remy, and Kurt were at the end, along with Mystique, all of them getting along for once, all of them ready to try the food; Reader, when they went to sit down, was offered by everyone to sit with them... they ended up sitting between Jubilee and Roberto, feeling a bit warmer and a bit lighter among friends...

• Getting dinner was amazing. The turkey was crisp and juicy, popping with flavor; the gumbo was spicy, a warm taste lingering on the tongue; the sweet potato casserole was sweet, the marshmallow top soft and adding an extra fluff to it; the chicken noodle soup was delightful, each bite full of chicken and pasta; the mashed potatoes were perfect, tasting salty and peppery and with the right amount of sour cream; the sausage balls tasted like sausage biscuits, each a warm bite of home; the pecan pie was divine, each bite nutty and full of spice; Reader's lemon pie was tart and creamy, each bite lemony and sweet; and the punch packed a punch, full of citrus zest and sparkling with bubbles...

• Reader was happy to talk with their family, everyone giving thanks for their friends and for everyone taking time to make the meal, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood, the holiday cheer infectious and bright. It was nice, a warm home and warmer friends, all gathered together...

• And when they all went to the living room to nap, Reader was glad to sleep amongst friends, falling into warm, peaceful dreams and gentle sleep...

@roxanndrummond @sugar-soda @vivid-bun @thewickedweiner @danniloversugar

[vegan-nom-noms]

Sugar Cookies

[askwhatsforlunch]

Hazelnut Amaretti Biscuits

Jules is coming home for the Holidays today, and as my sister as a sweet tooth, I always welcome her with a plate of treats. This year, it will be these beautifully crisp and nutty Hazelnut Amaretti Biscuits! Happy Christmas Eve's Eve, my friends!

Ingredients (makes 28 biscuits):

2 cups Icing Sugar + more for dusting

1 1/4 ground halmonds

1 cup ground hazelnuts

2 large egg whites

1 tablespoon raw runny honey

28 whole hazelnuts

In a large bowl, combine Icing Sugar, ground almonds and ground hazelnuts. Give a good stir until well-combined.

Dig a well in the middle of the dry ingredients, and add egg whites and honey.

Stir well until mixture comes together into a soft, pasty dough.

Chill in the refrigerator, for half an hour.

Line a baking tray with baking paper.

Spoon 2 heaped tablespoons Icing Sugar into a shallow dish or plate.

Scoop a heaped tablespoonful (about the size of a walnut) of the chilled dough and roll between your hands (you can wet your hands, to prevent sticking) until you have a smooth ball.

Place ball in prepared plate. When you have about six balls, shake the plate to evenly coat them in Icing Sugar.

Then, place coated balls onto prepared baking tray, and push a hazelnut in the centre of each, flattening it slightly.

Repeat, adding more Icing Sugar when necessary, until no biscuit dough or hazelnut remain.

Leave baking tray in a draught-free place for one hour; it will crackle the dough in this characteristic amaretti manner.

Preheat oven to 160°C/320°F.

Once hot, place baking tray in the middle of the hot oven, and bake, at 160°C/320°F, for 8 to 10 minutes, rotating the tray halfway through, until just golden brown.

Remove from the heat, and let cool completely.

These lovely Hazelnut Amaretti Biscuits will pair beautifully with a small glass or Limoncello, and shall keep 3 to 4 days in a metal tin.

[giveafike]

Sugar, Spice & Everything Nice! -B.T.S

TLDR: making gingerbread cookies w Ben :p. This is part 4/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 4.6k. including dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: this one’s heavily inspired by my own family tradition - we always bake gingerbread cookies since I was a little girl! The first time I did, it was in primary school when I was maybe 6, 7 years old? And after that, my family took it and made it our own little mess :) v v wholesome making little biscuits, shaping them and waiting for them to cool and then decorating them… it’s such a pure act of patience and love, right? Also, changed the middle pic to the MSG pic, his eyes are twinkling, god I love him bad

————————————————————————

The morning was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came when the house was nearly empty. A faint December golden light filtered through the kitchen windows, warming the wooden table where you sat, flipping through the cookbook you had picked up at the Christmas market. The glossy pages felt smooth under your fingers, each recipe accompanied by photos of perfectly baked treats and artful decorations. It was the sort of book that made everything seem achievable, even for a novice. A steaming mug of coffee sat on the table beside you, the rich aroma mingling with the faint hint of pine from the Christmas tree in the other room. Ben had made the coffee, placing it in front of you with a casual kiss on the top of your head and a small rub on your shoulder before taking his place, sitting across you at the table with his own mug. Underneath the table, Halo was sprawled out comfortably, still softly snoring against the floorboards whenever you shifted your feet.

The house was calm, Lisa and Bryan were out doing some last-minute Christmas shopping, and Emma had spent the night at her friend’s house, leaving her still lounging over there for the day. It was just you and Ben.

He seemed at ease, leaning against the counter in his sweats and a faded T-shirt, sipping his coffee and scrolling on his phone. There was something different about him in his childhood home, a quiet confidence, a comfort that came with years of familiarity but you being with him? He liked the way that felt.

Curiosity got the better of him as he set down his phone and stepped closer. “What’s got you so locked in?” he asked, peering over your shoulder.

You smiled, holding the book up slightly so he could see. “Gingerbread cookies,” you said, pointing to a page with intricately decorated cookies that looked almost too good to eat.

Ben squinted at the lengthy recipe and let out a soft laugh. “That’s... ambitious. Is that what you’re thinking of makin'?”

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. “I mean, when I was a kid, we made gingerbread cookies once or twice, but it was the easy kind. You know, cutting out shapes from pre-made dough and sticking them on parchment paper. Not exactly homemade.”

He chuckled, leaning against the back of your chair. “So, you skipped all the hard stuff and went straight to the fun part, huh?”

“Exactly,” you said with a grin. “But this... this is the real deal. Making the dough, rolling it out, and baking from scratch. It feels like something I should try at least once, one day...”

Ben’s eyes softened as he watched you, the corners of his lips twitching upward. “Well,” he said, straightening up, “why not today? Let’s do it.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You sure? This recipe is, like, a full-day commitment. I was just looking for inspiration.”

He nodded, setting his empty mug on the table. “Yeah, I’m sure. Mom’s stocked up on all the baking stuff for the holidays, so we should have everything we need. Besides, you’ve been talkin' about a baking day since we got here. Why not now?”

You hesitated for a moment, scanning his face for any hint of second thoughts, but his broad smile was nothing but genuine, his excitement contagious.

“Alright,” you said, closing the cookbook and standing up. “Let’s do it. But you better be ready to work, I’m not doing this all by myself.”

Ben smirked, crossing his arms. “Don’t worry, I’m a great assistant. I’ll handle the hard labour.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your small smile as you began to call out ingredients while Ben gathered. Ben leaned casually against the counter, watching as you carefully measured out the flour, sugar, and spices, the soft clinking of measuring cups the only sound in the room. There was a quiet concentration in the way you moved, a small crease forming between your brows as you checked the recipe and sifted the flour into a large mixing bowl. Every so often, he caught you muttering numbers under your breath, double-checking your measurements, making him smile in pure smitten adoration.

“You’re taking this seriously, huh?” he teased, arms crossed as he leaned a hip against the counter.

“Of course I am,” you replied, not looking up. “You don’t mess around with dough. One wrong move, and it’s game over.”

Ben chuckled, stepping closer to the cabinets. “Alright, Chef. What’s next? Spices?”

You nodded, dragging your finger across the page of the cookbook to check the measurements. “Yep. Cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and nutmeg. You got it?”

Ben nodded before he pushed himself off, stretching up to the top shelf of the cabinet, his fingers easily reaching the small spice jars that were out of your reach. He handed them to you one by one, lingering close as you measured each spice into a small bowl. The kitchen was soon filled with a warm, heady aroma, the kind that instantly made everything feel more festive.

“Smells like Christmas, for sure. You're doing somethin' right” Ben said, leaning down slightly to take a dramatic sniff.

“Smells like a lot of hard work,” you corrected, smiling as you added the spices to the bowl. “Alright, next is the wet ingredients. Butter and molasses, grab the molasses for me?”

Ben grabbed the jar and slid it across the counter toward you, watching you spoon the thick, dark syrup into the bowl. “That stuff’s like tar,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow.

You laughed. “It’s basically liquid gold for gingerbread, though. Trust the process.”

He nodded, though his expression remained sceptical. “Mhm. If you say so.”

As you cracked eggs into the mixture and began to combine everything, Ben wandered over to your side, resting a hand lightly on your back as he peered into the bowl.

“You’ve got this,” he said playfully. “But if you need some real muscle for the next part, I’m available.”

You glanced up at him, smirking. “Oh, don’t worry, you’re about to get your hands dirty.”

His grin widened. “Man, I’ve been waiting for you to say that!”

Once the dough had started to come together, you handed him the wooden spoon, pointing at the thick mixture.

“Alright, muscle-man. It’s your time to shine. But be careful, don’t overwork it. We need the dough to be soft and pliable, not like a brick.”

"Don’t overwork it," he echoed, his voice deliberately mimicking your tone. He tried to press his lips into a straight line, but his smile betrayed him. With a playful glint in his eye, he took the spoon from your hand. "Got it," he said, his grin slipping through despite his efforts.

You stepped back, crossing your arms as you watched him take over. His biceps flexed slightly as he stirred the dense dough, and you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he managed it, effortless and, somehow, ridiculously attractive. He was a mix of charm and frustration rolled into one.

“This isn’t so bad,” he said, glancing at you with a smug grin. “I thought you said this would be hard work.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing as you distracted yourself by taking the dirty utensils and bowls into the sink to stop yourself from drooling. “That’s because you haven’t gotten to the part where your arm feels like it’s going to fall off.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Please. I’m a professional athlete. I think I can handle-”

Mid-sentence, the spoon hit a particularly stubborn clump of dry dough, plastered in flour, and Ben’s smug expression faltered as he struggled to keep a massive part of the unmixed batter from spilling over the edge of the bowl.

“Careful!” you exclaimed, eyes widening as you stepped forward to steady the bowl.

“Alright, alright,” he said, his voice tinged with laughter as he adjusted his grip. “Maybe this is a little more work than I thought.”

You grinned, giving his arm a playful nudge. “Told you. Now, keep going. You’re doing great.”

With a determined look, Ben continued to fold the dough, his movements steady and deliberate under you as you glanced every now and then. You found yourself smiling as you guided him, appreciating how he seemed to take it all in stride, even the mess.

Finally, the dough was smooth and well-mixed, and you placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “Okay, that’s perfect. Any more, and you’ll ruin it.”

Ben set the spoon down with a dramatic sigh, shaking his hand as though he’d just finished a workout. “You weren’t kidding about the arm workout.”

You laughed, reaching for the plastic wrap to cover the dough. “See? Baking isn’t just about precision, it’s about endurance. You’d better hydrate if you want to make it to the next round. Maybe take a seat on the bench.”

Ben chuckled, as he watched you wrap the dough in cling film and set it in the fridge to rest. His gaze soft as he admired the way you moved around the kitchen.

“You’re kinda cute when you get all serious about this,” he said, his voice low and warm.

You shot him a playful glare, your cheeks warming. “Focus, Shelton. We’re only halfway there.”

He held up his hands in surrender, a grin tugging at his lips. “Alright, Chef. What’s next?”

With the dough resting in the fridge, you began tidying up, wiping down the counter and setting out the tools you’d need for shaping the cookies. Ben, however, wasn’t nearly as patient. He leaned against the fridge door, staring at it like he could will the dough to finish resting faster.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “do we have to wait for an hour? Can’t we just… you know, start shaping them now? It's not like we're in an exam, no one's gonna know.”

You glanced over your shoulder, catching the almost puppy-like look in his eyes. “Yes, we absolutely have to wait,” you said firmly, though you couldn’t help but smile at his impatience.

Ben groaned dramatically, dragging his hand down his face and through his curls, tussling them softly. “But why? It’s just dough. It’s not like it’s a steak that needs to rest or something.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you reached into a drawer to pull out the cookie cutters. “Because,” you explained, setting the cutters on the counter, “resting the dough lets the gluten relax, which keeps the cookies from spreading too much when they bake. It also gives the spices time to blend together and makes the dough easier to roll out. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

Ben sighed, back again with that sceptical look, before mumbling, “Sounds like a lot of fancy science talk just to make some cookies.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, grinning at him. “But it’s the kind of science that keeps your cookies from turning into sad little blobs.”

He broke into a smile, finally conceding. “Fine, fine. You’re the expert.”

“Thank you,” you said with mock seriousness, giving him a teasing salute before focusing on your setup.

While the dough rested, you busied yourself with preparing the island. You got Ben on an exploration to find a large rolling pin and the cookie cutters, while you dusted the surface and neatly lined up the equipment, spreading them out across the counter as excitement spread through you. There were hearts, stars, gingerbread men and women, Christmas trees, and a few other festive shapes.

Ben watched you work, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants. “You love preppin', huh?”

“Always,” you replied, tossing him a smile as you laid sheets of parchment paper onto baking trays. “Baking is all about being ready before the chaos starts.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Chaos?”

“You’ll see,” you said ominously, grabbing a canister of flour and sprinkling a thin layer across the island. “Just wait until we’re elbow-deep in icing and sprinkles.”

Ben chuckled, stepping closer as you worked. “Oh, that sounds like my kind of chaos.”

Once everything was set up, you took a step back, admiring your handiwork. The counter was clean, floured, and ready to go, with the trays and cutters neatly arranged. Ben, however, was back to pacing near the fridge, occasionally glancing at the clock.

Once the dough had rested, you pulled it from the fridge and placed it on the floured countertop, its chilled surface smooth and pliable under your hands. Ben leaned in eagerly, eyeing the mound of dough like it was a prize.

"Alright," you said, handing him the rolling pin, "your turn. Just don’t go too wild. Nice and even, okay?”

He raised an eyebrow, gripping the rolling pin with an exaggerated flourish. “Nice and even. Got it. I’m basically a pro already.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, stepping back to preheat the oven.

Ben pressed the rolling pin to the dough and began rolling, his movements a little uneven at first. He squinted down at the dough, muttering, “This is harder than it looks.”

You glanced over, biting back a laugh. “It’s not a race, Ben. Just take your time and keep it even.”

“Don’t worry, I understand it now” he whispered, almost to himself, as he shot you a grin. “I’ve got it handled. Gimme a second and this dough’ll be flatter than a pancake.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you prepared the cookie cutters, dipping them lightly into flour to keep the shapes clean.

Once the dough was rolled out to the perfect thickness, you stepped in, lining up the cutters.

“Okay, now for the fun part,” you said, handing him a gingerbread man cutter. “Start with this one. We’ll work our way through all the shapes.”

Ben pressed the cutter into the dough, lifting it to reveal a cleanly cut gingerbread man. He held it up like a trophy, beaming. “Look at that! First try. Told you I’m a natural.”

“Alright, natural,” you said, handing him a Christmas tree cutter. “Let’s see how you do with the next one.”

The two of you fell into a steady rhythm, cutting out hearts, stars, and more gingerbread men and women. Ben found himself holding up each shape, constantly amazed and proud before gently setting the cookies down onto the parchment paper.

As he cut out another gingerbread man, he paused, holding up one of each. “Now, hold on. We gotta make sure there’s an equal number of these two.” He gestured between the gingerbread man and woman cutters. “Gotta keep things fair. Equality and all.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “How very noble of you.”

“I’m serious!” he insisted, though the twinkle in his eye betrayed him. “We’re not gonna have more dudes than ladies on the tray. That’d be unbalanced.”

“Okay, okay,” you relented, humouring him. “Equality it is.”

As the shapes piled up, flour seemed to cover everything and everyone. Ben had a streak of it across his cheek, and you could feel it dusting your own hands, arms, and even your clothes. At one point, he reached across to grab another cutter and left a powdery handprint on your sleeve.

“Ben!” you exclaimed, pointing to the mark.

He glanced down at his flour-covered hand, then back at you, his grin widening. “Oops. Too focused on the task at hand.”

You shook your head, fighting back a smile. Despite the mess, you were both surprisingly focused, working in sync as you filled tray after tray with perfectly cut cookies. The shapes were neat and even, and the dough scraps were rolled back together with care to minimise waste.

“You know,” Ben said as he carefully placed a gingerbread woman onto a tray, “I’m impressed. I thought for sure I’d mess this up by now.”

“You’re doing great,” you said, genuinely impressed by his effort. “See? Patience pays off.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he teased, brushing a bit of flour off his hands. “I’m still not sold on this whole ‘waiting for the dough’ thing.”

“You’ll thank me when the cookies turn out perfect,” you shot back, sliding the trays into the preheated oven.

Ben stood back, surveying the trays of cookies with a satisfied look. “Alright,” he said, crossing his arms. “What’s next? More science lessons, or are we finally gonna taste-test these bad boys?”

“Not yet,” you said with a laugh. “We still have decorating to do. And no, you’re not eating them straight out of the oven.”

“Why not?” he drawled, feigning a pout.

“Because,” you said, placing a hand around his waist, “burnt tongues aren’t fun.”

“Patience isn’t my strong suit,” he admitted, as he put his head in his hands, groaning.

“Really? I would've never guessed,” you said dryly, earning a playful nudge from him.

“Alright, what can I do while we wait?” he asked, clearly trying to distract himself.

You handed him a dishcloth and pointed to the floor where flour had inevitably dusted its surface. “You can start by cleaning that up.”

Ben groaned but grabbed the cloth anyway, crouching down to wipe the floor. “Slave labour,” he muttered under his breath, though the smirk on his face gave him away.

“You’re the one who asked for something to do,” you pointed out, crossing your arms as you watched him.

He glanced up at you, his grin widening. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t forget this when I’m a pro-level cookie decorator later.”

“Oh, trust me,” you said with a laugh. “I won’t.”

"You’re on decorating prep duty, babe. No rest for two pros like us.”

“Deal,” you said, as you hauled over the bags of powdered sugar, food colouring, and piping bags from the counters. As Ben wiped down the counter, his movements methodical but still sprinkled with his usual flair, you busied yourself mixing the icing. The clinking of bowls and the soft sound of Ben scrubbing created a cozy rhythm. You glanced over occasionally, catching the sight of him brushing stray flour onto the floor with a sheepish grin.

“Hey,” you called out, pointing a spatula at him. “I saw that.”

He froze mid-swipe, his grin widening. “What? The counter’s clean, isn’t it?”

You shook your head, giggling, and returned to your icing. With a careful hand, you divided the thick, glossy mixture into separate bowls, adding drops of food colouring until you had a rainbow of festive hues: deep red, vibrant green, black, soft white, and even a cheerful yellow.

Ben, having finished the counter, moved onto the floor. “How does flour even get under the table?” he muttered, crouching down to clean up.

“Halo probably helped,” you teased, glancing at the dog, who was padding through the house innocently.

“Traitor.”

As the first batch of cookies began to brown in the oven, the warm scent of spices filled the air. You could feel your shoulders relax as you peeked through the oven door. The cookies were holding their shape perfectly, with no spreading, no cracking.

“Success,” you whispered to yourself, relieved.

Ben stood up, dusting his hands on his sweatpants. “Counter’s spotless. Floor’s… basically there too.” He leaned against the island, watching as you filled the piping bags with icing and lined up the bowls of candy, mini M&Ms, jelly tots, and even icing pearls.

“This is starting to look serious,” he commented.

Ben didn’t wait for an invitation. He reached out, snagging a still-steaming gingerbread man from the tray.

“Ben!” you exclaimed. “It’s hot!”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he said through a wince, pulling the cookie back quickly and blowing on it. He took a cautious bite, only to pause, his face twisting.

“Ow!”

You couldn’t help but sigh at the way he pouted, holding the cookie gingerly in one hand.

“I warned you,” you said, stepping closer.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his pout deepening.

Still laughing, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to distract him from his discomfort. When you pulled back, his expression had shifted from a pout to a sheepish smile.

“Guess it was worth it,” he murmured, his voice warm.

You rolled your eyes playfully, taking the cookie from his hand and setting it back on the rack. “You’ll get your turn when they cool down. Patience, remember?”

“Patience is overrated, babe,” he said, but his grin told you he wasn’t serious.

As the cookies cooled, you finished preparing the decorating station, laying everything out neatly. Ben leaned against the counter, watching you with an easy smile. The kitchen felt brighter, and warmer, with the two of you moving around each other in sync. The air smelled of gingerbread, and the promise of creative chaos hung in the air.

Finally, it was time to start decorating. You handed Ben a piping bag filled with red icing and grabbed a green one for yourself. “Okay, let’s see those artistic skills,” you teased.

“Oh, prepare to be amazed,” he said, squeezing the bag experimentally.

The first few cookies were simple, a heart with white trim, and a star with bright yellow accents, but the moment Ben decided to create a gingerbread woman to resemble you, all bets were off.

“Hold still,” he said, squinting at you with a ridiculous level of concentration.

“Ben, it’s a cookie, not a portrait session.”

“Shh. Art takes focus,” he said, holding up a finger up dramatically.

You watched as he gave the gingerbread woman what was supposed to be your hair but looked more like lopsided spaghetti. The face was slightly off-centre, and the dress he attempted was smudged in one corner. When he finally set the piping bag down, he stepped back with a proud grin.

“Ta-da!” he announced, holding it up for you to see.

You stared at the cookie and burst out laughing. “Is that supposed to be me?”

“It’s abstract,” he defended. “You don’t get it ‘cause it’s, like, high-level creativity.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “I think I’ll stick to realism.”

You got to work on your gingerbread man, deciding to return the favour as you made a gingerbread version of Ben, giving him signature curly hair, his big grin, and, of course, his ON tennis kit, complete in black with a bright pink line in its detailing.

When you showed him the finished cookie, his eyes widened, clearly taking it sorely. “Okay, I see what you’re doin’. Showin’ me up.”

“It’s not a competition,” you teased.

“Everything’s a competition,” he said, but the small smile on his face told you he didn’t mind losing this one.

Next, you both decided to make cookies representing the rest of the family. Bryan’s gingerbread man got a blue sweater, Lisa’s had an apron and a pearl necklace, and Emma’s had her glasses and a small, closed-eye smile.

“Think they’ll recognise themselves?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied the lineup of gingerbread people.

“They’d better,” Ben said, carefully adding a final swirl of icing to Lisa’s apron. “I put effort into this.”

By the time you’d decorated the rest of the cookies, trees, stars, hearts, and more, the sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow through the kitchen windows. The oven was off, the counters were cleared, and the air was filled with the lingering smell of gingerbread and icing sugar. Just as you were cleaning up the last bits of mess, the front door opened, and the sound of laughter and familiar voices filled the house.

“Y’all home?” Lisa called out.

“In the kitchen!” Ben answered, rinsing the last mixing bowl in the sink.

Lisa and Bryan walked in first, carrying shopping and takeout bags, with Emma trailing behind. The three of them paused when they saw the island covered with cookies, their eyes immediately landing on the five gingerbread figures standing together at the front of the spread.

“What …on earth...?” Bryan said, leaning in to examine the cookies more closely. His eyes darted from the gingerbread man with a blue sweater to the one wearing an apron, and his face broke into a grin. “Are these supposed to be us?”

Lisa gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my gosh, look at this!” She reached out delicately, picking up the cookie version of herself. “This is adorable, what a sweet surprise! Is that… an apron? You even added pearls!”

“That one’s me!” Emma crowed, pointing to the gingerbread woman with glasses and a massive smile. “I look so happy. Accurate.”

“Yeah, that was intentional,” you said with a smirk, glancing at Ben, who gave you a sly grin in return.

Bryan carefully picked up his cookie, inspecting the details. “Meanwhile all I got was a bald cookie and a sweater. Real funny.”

“You love sweaters, Dad,” Ben teased, drying his hands with a kitchen towel. “Don’t act like it’s not spot-on.”

Lisa placed her cookie back on the tray and turned to you, beaming. “This is so precious. Did you two make all of these today?”

“All day,” you confirmed, leaning against the counter. “We went all out, cutting, baking, decorating. Ben even rolled out the dough.”

“Don’t let her fool ya,” Ben drawled, nudging your shoulder with his. “She was the boss in this operation. I was just the muscle.”

“And the comic relief,” you added.

Emma leaned over the tray, picking up one of the star-shaped cookies. “These look amazing. Did y’all seriously make all these by hand? No, like, premade stuff?”

“Handmade, start to finish,” Ben said, puffing out his chest. “We’re pros now.”

Lisa laughed, shaking her head. “Well, I’d say it was worth it. They’re beautiful. I almost don’t want to eat them.”

“Almost,” Bryan echoed, already reaching for one of the undecorated trees.

Ben darted forward, intercepting him. “Hold up! Food first. Cookies are dessert.”

“Who made you the dessert police?” Bryan asked, but he let the cookie go, chuckling as he set it back down.

Lisa set the takeout bags on the counter, and the family gathered around, plates and utensils being passed out as everyone helped themselves to the food. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and teasing, and the cookies remained at the centre of attention, a charming reminder of the day you and Ben had spent together.

Later, Ben stood with his arms crossed, watching his family laugh and talk as they picked out cookies to eat. When he noticed you looking, he gave you a soft, warm smile, the kind that made your chest feel full as he opened his arm to invite you in for a hug.

You walked over to him, settling into his side. “This turned out pretty great, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low. He glanced at the tray of cookies again, then back to you. “Today was fun.”

You let your head rest on his shoulder. His arm slipped around your waist, holding you close as the room buzzed with warmth and love.

“Next time,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple, “we’re makin’ gingerbread tennis rackets. I’ve got ideas to workshop.”

You sighed, feigning exasperation before laughing softly, tilting your head up to look at him. “I can’t wait to see how that turns out.”

“Better start stretchin’ my art portfolio now,” he teased, but the look in his eyes was anything but playful, soft, steady, and full of affection.

And just like that, in the middle of his childhood kitchen, surrounded by his family and the lingering scent of gingerbread, you realised this moment was one you’d hold onto for a long, long time.

[headphonegrl]

There’s a folder in Jude’s phone dedicated to you. It's a day shy of your first anniversary when you find out about it, stumbling upon it when he asks you to look for a screenshot of the recipe he’s using to bake biscuits. The exact one your grandma sent him, one of your favorite foods of all time since you were learning to walk and speaking gibberish in the hopes of forming a sentence.

Its title is a plain red heart, sitting above the number three hundred and forty-eight. You stare at it for a moment to make sure it’s right, you swipe out of the app and click back onto it as if to make sure it won’t disappear suddenly. Though it’s still there, the number and symbol staring back at you. There’s a funny lurch in your stomach when you tap the screen with the pad of your thumb, clicking on a random photo when they all show up in neat little rows of three.

There’s one of an arcade machine. The big display screen a cartoony shade of blue with cheesy racing cars and checkered flag graphics, with two grainy photos in the middle. One of Jude sticking his tongue out, his eyes squeezed completely shut. The other of you smiling cutely with all your teeth showing, Jude’s hand appearing from off-screen to give you bunny ears with his fingers. It was your fourth official date and you both spent it collecting as many arcade tickets as possible, only to just end up with glittery bouncy balls and pencils when you traded them all in.

Another one is of you standing by the sink in his bathroom, your hair clipped away from your face. There’s foamy face wash all over your cheeks and on the tops of your fingers, you hold your hands out to display them to the camera. You had promised to spend the night at his place for the very first time, and getting ready for bed had already taken nearly an hour due to all the talking. Jude sat on the edge of the bath wearing one of your fuffy toweling headbands, watching you endearingly as he fiddled with the lid of your moisturizer

One sticks out like a sore thumb, a screenshot from your childhood Instagram account that makes your toes curl with cringe. A heavily filtered selfie of you pouting with a caption that’s a variation of unrelated emojis. After a night out drinking overpriced cocktails, you both ended up sitting in bed scrolling through embarrassing photos. Looking back it might have been the extra tequila shot, but Jude found it so funny he struggled to gasp for air. He set it as his home screen as a joke and forgot to change it back for almost a month.

Further down there’s one from when you both went on holiday. A photo of you sitting on a wooden dining chair, your elbow leaning against the table with your cheek squished against the palm of your hand. You’re wearing the strappy sundress you bought earlier that week in a little boutique owned by an enthusiastic Italian lady. At dinner the strap keeps falling off your shoulder, and when no one is looking Jude plants a kiss exactly where it should sit. 

“Darl, have you found it?” Jude speaks up from the kitchen. Shortening the pet name ‘darling’ into just one syllable, as if the other one will ruin the flow of his sentence. Looking up you’re greeted by him standing next to the mixer, the flour down his front making the text on his shirt unintelligible.

“Yeah.” You click the arrow on the top left to take you back. Scrolling past some selfies and a bunch of pictures of the same sunset, until you find the recipe sitting next to a funny photo of his brother. When you get up to rest it against the shiny countertop so he can read it, your heart feels a little fuller. “Here you go.”

[thisbuildinghasfeelings]

2024 holiday baking

Sugar cookies—recipe

Spiced gingerbread cake with spiced cream cheese frosting—recipe

Cheddar biscuits—recipe