#such as rolling cookies in powdered sugar

[sallysetoncore]

locked tomb characters and weed

this is my stupidest post. i'm so excited. do not speak to me of canon this is a joke.

ianthe: hits penjamin. and she will not stop and she will do it at the club and in your face and at church if you make her go. sometimes, sometimes, she will have the decorum to do it in the bathroom. but not usually. and if you ask her to stop, she's breathing it directly at you. she's taking a lot of small hits instead of like anything substantial. also her cart is always clogged? inexplicably?

coronabeth: asks to hit ianthe's pen constantly. does not buy her own weed. why would she? she's too hot. if a woman offers her a hit, she says yes, but she would never step foot in a dispensary.

naberius: his vape is nicotine. but yeah he's bought a weed pen before and hasn't hated it.

palamedes: takes gummies to relax sometimes. weirdly likes the smell but doesn't actually smoke. has a lot of opinions on strains, though. his favorite gummy flavor is blueberry btw.

camilla: is the one buying palamedes gummies. prefers a joint, knows how to roll. author's note: most of them don't know how to roll. camilla is the specialist girl in the world, though.

gideon: pretends to know how to roll. does not know how to roll. usually uses a bong and will bring a small one to the function if asked. here's the thing: she's really bad with lighters and will need a girl to help her, preferably very very close to her face. also she coughs like a bitch every time.

isaac: is smoking, let's be fucking clear, but like the shittiest dispos at his local smoke shop, since they don't card. gideon is the first person who lets him take a hit of flower and he has the best time of his entire life.

jeannemary: secretly scared of it? a little? but also when gideon (with the biceps) is letting isaac hit the bong, she absolutely has to participate as well. does okay <3

abigail: can fully make her own oils and butters and shit and it's insane!!! will join a circle but prefers edibles. here's the thing though: can't bake for shit, unfortunately.

magnus: is kind of confused by dosage but actually can bake for shit so abigail will make the infused oil/butter and he will make a beautiful tray of cookies or brownies or a lemon ricotta cake with a light dusting of powdered sugar.

dulcinea (REAL): a small, pink pipe. does not cough.

ortus: yeah, actually, he does smoke. but only indica before bedtime.

harrow: so fucking terrified of it but it would probably fix her. is also using her mind to clog ianthe's cart.

alecto: i don't know but she's in my dream blunt rotation for sure

[seriouslywhodidthis]

As an amateur home cook and baker who learned all my cooking skills from my father, but all my baking skills from my mother, I have found it easiest to explain the difference this way:

Cooking is an art — you do what feels right.

Baking is a science — it is literally chemistry. If you don’t follow the recipe, you will get something RADICALLY different than what you think.

the funniest dynamc between my boyfriend and i is the chef/baker divide runs so deep. experimentally my boyfriend is a genius with figuring out what flavor profiles will not just taste good together but also will be enjoyed by the specific audience he is cooking for. a recipe is not a guidebook so much as a suggestion and he will frankenstein ideas together to get exactly what he wants to happen. he also didnt know that sugar will not work properly if you dont mix it with the wet ingredients in banana bread and when i asked 'why didnt you do it in the order of the recipe' he said 'i didnt really think it mattered'. autistically i exploded his head in my mind

[a2zillustration]

August Baking 2024

Oreo Cakesters - 5/5

Genuinely impressed these turned out as good as they did because SOMEONE (me) used twice as much butter as necessary for the cookies. Can't wait to try this one again the right way!

Cinnamon Roll Sugar Cookies - 3.75/5

These taste good but they're so much effort to make. Just find a really good snickerdoodle recipe you like more tbh, unless you want cookies that look cuter.

[paradife-loft]

intended to make chocolate/chocolate chip cookies today to remedy the tragic lack of desserts currently in my house.

swerved at the last minute into impulsive baking experiments, and now I have a batch of chocolate-matcha cookies instead.

I'm pretty pleased with how they turned out!

[peoplelookingatcitibike]

Star Anise Oatmeal Cookies

Star Anise Oatmeal Cookies. Ground Star Anise, All-Purpose Flour, Granulated Sugar, Rolled Oats, Baking Powder, Vanilla Extract, Unsalted Butter, Salt, Baking Soda, Brown Sugar, Egg. These oatmeal cookies have a fragrant star anise flavour that adds a unique and delicious twist. They're ideal for a snack or dessert and will impress your friends and family.

[manabird]

Oatmeal Cookie Recipe - Star Anise Oatmeal Cookies

These oatmeal cookies have a fragrant star anise flavour that adds a unique and delicious twist. They're ideal for a snack or dessert and will impress your friends and family.

[magz]

[ Original Twitter Thread by @/beelektra ] - Not by Magz, am not Palestinian

Palestinian Foods. (long post)

Quote:

"🧵 Thread of Palestinian desserts I've grown up around and seen A thing I'd like to add is that I just like to share my culture! I do not want to spread the narrative that our culture is dying, I only want people to see our foods and traditions 🇵🇸

"As mentioned in the last post, we have knafeh (or kunafa), a buttery dessert made with shredded pastry layers such as cheese and other ingredients like pistacho or cream!"

"Burbara; which comes from Saint Barbara, fun fact! It's a soup dessert that mainly consists of barley, licorice spices, anise, cinnamon, and fennel powder This is a dessert usually many Christian families have to celebrate Saint Barbara, which is December 4th!"

"Malban, which resembles a fruit jelly! Made from starch and sugar Specifically, it's made with grape molasses, thickened with starch and flavored with rose water, and stuffed with almonds (or other nuts including walnuts, treenuts, and peanuts)"

"Khabeesa is simply just a pudding made with grapes, but you prepare it by mixing the grape juice with semolina and nuts + seeds."

"Mtabbak or mtabba, a crispy dough stuffed with crushed walnuts. It also contains cinnamon, sugar, and syrup. Photo credits go to Bartek Kieżun on Instagram"

"Tamriyeh, a fried pastry filled with semolina pudding, scenter with mastic and orange blossom water, and topped off with powdered sugar"

"Ka'ak bi Tamer, which are date paste filled cookies with cinnamon! A dessert made for Eid-Alfitr. It's topped with nigella seeds, and the cinnamon-spiced date paste is the most important part of it all– you can eat it on its own or have it with coffee"

"+ Ka'ak Asawer, another dessert that can be prepared for Eid-Alfitr. It's translated to bracelet cookies, and they use date paste, flour, anise seeds, sugar, ground cinnamon, and olive oil"

"Muhallebi or mahalabia, a milk pudding that's made with sugar, corn starch, and fragrant flavorings! It's topped off with nuts, pistachos, and almonds and sprinkled with ground cinnamon or shredded coconut"

"Rice pudding, which is a common dessert in Palestine, and it's your choice to top it off with nuts or not"

"Stuffed dates, using medjool dates and cracking them open to be stuffed with goat cheese and pistachios– but you're free to add anything else"

"Ma'amoul, a buttery crisp cookie primarily made of farina and can be stuffed with (spiced) dates, walnuts, or pistachios. This is another Christian dessert made by Palestinian mothers during the week of Easter Sunday."

"Halawit Smid, a farina based dessert with added sugar and unsalted cheese. It's preferably served fresh"

"Namoura cake, aka harissa dessert! It's made with semolina or farina flour, and then topped off with syrup once baked"

"Qatayef, which is eaten during the month of Ramadan. It's made of farina, flour, water, and yeast blended together– the process is pretty similiar to making pancakes, but only one side is cooked"

"Since I've mentioned using zaatar for a lot of things, I recently just discovered this but– there's also things such as zaatar cookies!! It's just as implied that the cookies are filled with zaatar, I'd be so willing to make this on my own"

"Baklava, made from phyllo pastry dough, butter, nuts, basil, and a sweet honey syrup"

"Aish el saraya, arabic version of a bread pudding. It's basically a layered bread, where it starts from the bottom, then covered with a sweet syrup, cream, and crumbled pistachios."

"Awwami, it's defined as "crisp donut ball" in English. It's a deep fried dough ball coated with sesame seeds, and dipped in cold syrup water."

"Halawet el Jibn, a sweet cheese dessert rolled with custard, heavy cream, drizzled rose water + syrup, and garnished with nuts."

"Lastly, I'd like to add watermelon and cheese– for me, it's like,,,, bittersweet!!! You should totally try it and we also have this during Ramadan"

"Well, that's all I can think of for Palestinian desserts! Here's the first part for general foods, I know I did make a promise for part two

I hope you guys liked this thread, and if you have any opinions please feel free to quote tweet anything on here if I made a mistake, feel free to correct me, it's always appreciated P.S if you're a zionist commenting here I really don't care, just scroll, I'm sharing my culture

One LAST thing. if you want any of the recipes from here, check out this website, the creator (Wafa) shares so many wonderful traditional Palestinian dishes."

[End Quote]

[deanstone]

Oatmeal Cookie Recipe - Star Anise Oatmeal Cookies

These oatmeal cookies have a fragrant star anise flavour that adds a unique and delicious twist. They're ideal for a snack or dessert and will impress your friends and family.

[23victoria]

gingerbread cookies!

pairings: 𝓯1 𝓰𝓻𝓲𝓭 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

word count: 3.8𝓴

synopsis: 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓾𝓼𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓴𝓲𝓭𝓼

authors note: 𝓭𝓪𝔂 1 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓼! 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂! 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼, 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭!!

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽?! CLICK HERE!

F1 MASTERLIST F1 CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST

Lewis

The kitchen is already buzzing with excitement. Lia’s tiny voice fills the room as she sits on the counter, clapping her flour-covered hands while her big brother Leo drags a chair to the counter so he can reach the mixing bowl. Lewis stands next to you, grinning from ear to ear, his apron slightly already dusted with flour. You’re armed with a rolling pin and a smile, ready to face the inevitable chaos of baking gingerbread cookies for the first time as a family.

“Alright, team,” Lewis says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s make some gingerbread magic happen.”

“Cookies, Daddy!” Lia cheers, throwing her arms in the air. The sudden movement sends a puff of flour into the air, and both you and Lewis cough, laughing as the powder settles.

“Cookies, yes, princess,” he says, scooping her up and planting a kiss on her flour-speckled cheek. She giggles and squirms, and he sets her back down on the counter. “But first, we have to mix the dough. Leo, you ready to be my sous-chef?”

Leo’s chest puffs up with pride. “Yes, Dad! I’m ready.”

You hand him the wooden spoon, and he gets to work mixing the dry ingredients. You and Lewis guide him, taking turns measuring out the cinnamon, ginger, and cloves while Lia alternates between sneaking handfuls of flour and trying to “help” by stirring.

“Lia, no eating the flour,” you say gently, pulling her flour-covered fingers out of her mouth. “It doesn’t taste good yet.”

She pouts dramatically, her big brown eyes shining with mischief. “But I’m hungry, Mommy!”

“You’ll get cookies soon,” Lewis assures her, ruffling her curly hair. “But first, we have to make the dough.”

The dough comes together quickly, though not without a few mishaps. Lia accidentally dumps too much sugar into the bowl, prompting a quick rescue mission from you and Leo. Lewis adds a bit too much molasses, which makes the dough stickier than it should be. But the laughter and teamwork make up for any imperfections.

When it’s time to roll out the dough, you dust the counter with flour and hand Lia a miniature rolling pin. She takes her job very seriously, rolling the dough with all her might, even if it’s uneven and full of tiny fingerprints.

“Look, Mommy! I’m a chef!” she announces proudly.

“You’re the best chef,” you reply, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Meanwhile, Leo focuses intently on cutting out shapes with the cookie cutters. He’s careful and precise, his tongue poking out in concentration as he presses a star-shaped cutter into the dough.

“Good job, buddy,” Lewis says, giving him a fist bump. “That’s a perfect star.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Leo says, beaming.

Of course, it’s not long before things start to spiral into delightful chaos. Lia, bored with rolling dough, begins decorating her face with flour, creating what she calls a “gingerbread mask.” Leo accidentally knocks over the bowl of sprinkles, sending colorful candies skittering across the floor. And Lewis, in his attempt to “help,” manages to get icing on his nose and eyebrows.

“You’re supposed to decorate the cookies, not yourself,” you tease, laughing as you wipe a smear of icing off his cheek.

“I’m just setting the vibe,” he quips, leaning in to kiss you. Before his lips can meet yours, Lia interrupts with a loud, “Ewwww, Mommy and Daddy are kissing!”

You and Lewis laugh, pulling apart but not before he winks at you. “We’ll finish that later,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear.

Finally, the cookies are ready to go into the oven. You let Leo and Lia take turns placing the tray in with Lewis supervising closely.

As the cookies bake, the smell of ginger and cinnamon fills the kitchen, making everyone’s mouth water. You’re wiping down the counter when Lia tugs on your sleeve.

“Mommy, can we make hot chocolate?” she asks sweetly, her flour-covered face tilted up at you.

“Of course we can,” you say, lifting her off the counter and setting her on the floor. “Let’s get the mugs.”

By the time the cookies are ready, the four of you are sitting at the table, sipping hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. The cookies, though slightly misshapen, are delicious, and Leo takes great pride in pointing out which ones he decorated.

“This one’s mine,” he says, holding up a star-shaped cookie covered in lopsided icing. “And that one’s Lia’s.”

“It’s so pretty,” Lia says, clapping her hands. “Just like me!”

Lewis bursts out laughing. “You’re not wrong, princess.”

As the evening winds down, you survey the mess in the kitchen: flour on the counters, sprinkles on the floor, and sticky fingerprints everywhere. But the sound of your children’s laughter and the sight of their frosting-smeared faces make it all worth it.

“We’re definitely doing this again next year,” Lewis says, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Absolutely,” you agree, leaning into him.

The kids, now on a sugar high, start a game of tag around the table, their giggles echoing through the house.

Charles

The twins are perched on either side of the kitchen island, their little hands eager to dive into the pile of cookie cutters and bowls of colorful icing. Jules, ever the perfectionist, carefully lines up the cutters, his brow furrowed in concentration. Alessandro, on the other hand, is already elbow-deep in the flour, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Papa, is it like this?" Jules asks, holding up a perfectly shaped gingerbread man. Charles leans over, his green eyes sparkling with pride. "C'est parfait, Jules! You’re a natural."

You’re busy rolling out another sheet of dough when Alessandro lets out a frustrated huff. "Mine broke!" he exclaims, holding up a decapitated gingerbread man. Tears threaten to spill as he glares at the dough.

Before you or Charles can intervene, Jules slides his own gingerbread man over to his twin. "Here, Ale. You can have mine. I’ll make another one," he says softly, his tone filled with understanding.

The gesture melts your heart. Charles places a hand on your back, his expression a mix of pride and tenderness as he watches his sons. "They’re good boys," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Alessandro sniffs, accepting the cookie with a shy smile. "Thanks, Jules. You’re the best brother."

The rest of the baking session goes smoothly, with Alessandro taking his time to mimic Jules’ careful technique. The boys work together to decorate their cookies, laughing as they sneak tastes of icing and sprinkles. Charles manages to snap a few candid photos, capturing the flour-streaked faces and genuine smiles that light up the room.

When the cookies are finally done, the twins proudly present their creations to you and Charles. "Look, Mama! Papa!" they say in unison, holding up their plates of colorful gingerbread men.

"Magnificent!" Charles declares, pulling the boys into a bear hug. "You two are master bakers."

You smile, wrapping your arms around your little family, your heart has never felt fuller.

Carlos

The kitchen is a whirlwind of chaos and laughter as your three little ones dive into the gingerbread-making process. Ruby, your five-year-old, takes charge immediately, carefully measuring out ingredients with her tongue poking out in concentration. Marco, who is four, is more interested in sneaking tastes of the dough, while Roman, your three-year-old, is determined to use every single cookie cutter at once.

"Mama, can I do the sprinkles now?" Ruby asks, holding up a shaker of red and green sprinkles. Before you can answer, Marco bumps into her, causing the shaker to topple over and coat the counter in a glittering mess.

"Marco!" Ruby scolds, her lower lip trembling as she surveys the ruined sprinkles.

"Sorry!" Marco says quickly, his big brown eyes wide with guilt. Roman, sensing the tension, toddles over to Ruby and wraps his little arms around her waist. "Don’t be sad, Ruby. We help," he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Marco nods earnestly, grabbing a dishcloth. "I’ll clean it up, Ruby!"

You exchange a look with Carlos, who is watching the scene unfold with a soft smile. "Our little team," he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

With Ruby’s spirits lifted, the three kids work together to fix the mess. Marco carefully wipes up the spilled sprinkles while Roman hands Ruby a new shaker. "Here, Ruby. You do it better," he says, his tiny voice full of sincerity.

Carlos crouches down to help Ruby and Marco roll out the dough again, his hands guiding theirs as they press the cutters into the soft surface. Roman, meanwhile, has discovered the joy of throwing flour into the air, creating a fine white mist that settles over everyone.

"Roman!" Carlos exclaims, laughing as he tries to stop the little boy. But Roman is too quick, and soon even Carlos’ dark hair is dusted with flour.

By the time the cookies are finally baked and decorated, the kitchen looks like a tornado has passed through. But as you sit on the floor with Carlos and the kids, nibbling on warm gingerbread and sharing stories, the mess feels like a small price to pay for such a perfect family moment.

Max

The kitchen feels extra cozy as little Mia, your three-year-old daughter, toddles up to the counter on her step stool. She clutches a rolling pin almost as big as her, her tiny tongue peeking out in concentration.

"Dada, I’m making a big cookie!" Mia announces, pressing down on the dough with all her strength. Max chuckles, standing beside her. "A big cookie for a big girl, right?"

You’re sifting flour when Mia suddenly sneezes. A puff of flour rises into the air, landing on her nose and cheeks. Her eyes go wide in surprise before she bursts into a fit of giggles.

"Dada! I’m white!" she exclaims, pointing to her face. Max grins and taps her nose with his finger, adding another smudge of flour. "Now you look like a snowman!"

"Mama, I’m a snowman!" Mia declares, holding out her arms for you to see. You laugh, wiping your hands on a towel before leaning in to kiss her floury cheek. "The cutest snowman I’ve ever seen."

As Mia works on her giant cookie, Max decides to get creative. He scoops a bit of icing and dabs it on your nose, earning a playful glare from you. "Max!"

"What? It’s Christmas spirit!" he says innocently, though his mischievous grin gives him away.

Before long, the kitchen turns into a playful battlefield. Mia joins in, flinging tiny handfuls of flour at both you and Max. Her giggles echo through the room as Max lifts her up, spinning her around to evade your “retaliation” with a handful of sprinkles.

When the cookies are finally in the oven, the three of you are covered head to toe in flour, sprinkles, and icing. Mia sits on Max’s lap at the kitchen table, munching on a leftover piece of dough. "Dada, can we eat the cookies now?" she asks, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Soon, angel," Max says, brushing a strand of flour-dusted hair out of her face. "First, they have to bake."

As you all wait, you take a moment to snap a photo of your messy but happy little family. The kitchen might need serious cleaning, but the memories made within its walls are priceless. Once the cookies are out of the oven, cooled, and decorated with Mia’s enthusiastic smears of icing and an overload of sprinkles, she proudly holds up her "big cookie."

"Look, Mama! Dada! My cookie is so pretty!" she beams, her little chest puffed out with pride.

"It’s the best cookie I’ve ever seen," Max says earnestly, leaning down to kiss her cheek. You nod in agreement, wrapping an arm around both of them.

"Absolutely. This one’s going in the family hall of fame," you tease, already planning to snap another picture. The three of you sit down to enjoy the sweet treats together, your hearts full despite the flour-coated chaos surrounding you.

Lando

The kitchen is a whirlwind of flour, sugar, and laughter as you and Lando attempt to make gingerbread cookies with your four-year-old daughter, Celeste. Standing on her little stool by the counter, she’s already covered in flour from head to toe, her tiny hands eagerly grabbing at the cookie cutters. Lando leans close to her, his face alight with a mixture of amusement and pure adoration.

“Alright, baby,” Lando says, handing her a star-shaped cutter. “Press it down nice and hard, just like this.” He demonstrates with a gingerbread man cutter, and Celeste mimics him with all the determination of a toddler on a mission.

“I did it!” she announces proudly, holding up her slightly lopsided star. Her big green eyes shine as she turns to you for approval.

“That’s perfect, baby girl,” you say, brushing a bit of flour off her nose. “You’re a natural baker.”

Celeste beams, and Lando’s grin widens as he grabs another piece of dough. “She takes after me,” he teases, earning an eye roll from you. “What can I say? Talent runs in the family.”

“Oh, does it?” you reply, arching a brow as you sprinkle a little flour onto his cheek. Lando gasps dramatically, grabbing a handful of flour and tossing it into the air like confetti. Celeste squeals with laughter, clapping her hands and sending a puff of flour everywhere.

“Lando!” you scold, though you’re laughing too.

“What? She started it,” he says, pointing at Celeste, who giggles even harder.

When the cookies are finally in the oven, the three of you sit at the table with bowls of icing and sprinkles. Lando takes one look at the little tray of cookies and shakes his head. “I think these might be the most... abstract gingerbread cookies ever made.”

Celeste holds up a cookie she’s decorated with three blobs of icing and a pile of red sprinkles. “It’s a snowman!” she says proudly.

Lando’s face softens, and he nods. “The best snowman I’ve ever seen,” he says, leaning over to kiss her flour-dusted cheek.

You watch as Celeste happily eats her cookie, her tiny teeth nibbling away at the edges. Lando’s eyes never leave her, his expression so full of love it makes your heart ache. “She’s perfect,” he murmurs, reaching over to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

As Celeste finishes her cookie, Lando scoops her up into his arms, spinning her around until she’s giggling uncontrollably. He plants kisses all over her face, making her squeal and squirm. “Daddy, stop! It tickles!”

“Never!” Lando declares, holding her close and laughing along with her.

By the end of the evening, the kitchen is a complete mess, but you wouldn’t trade the chaos for anything. With Celeste snuggled up between you and Lando on the couch, her tiny hand clutching a gingerbread star, you feel like the luckiest family in the world.

Oscar

The kitchen is calm but buzzing with a quiet excitement as your twins, four-year-old Odessa and Ocean, stand on their step stools by the counter. Odessa’s brows are furrowed in deep concentration as she carefully presses a gingerbread man cutter into the rolled-out dough. Ocean, on the other hand, is humming a Christmas tune, sprinkling flour on her side of the counter with as much flair as possible.

"Mommy, look! Mine has arms this time!" Odessa says proudly, holding up her perfectly shaped cookie. You smile and nod, brushing a bit of flour from her cheek.

"Great job, honeybun! You’re getting really good at this."

Oscar, standing nearby with a mixing bowl in hand, chuckles softly. "'s precision is unmatched," he says, ruffling Odessa’s dark brown curls before turning to Ocean. "And Ocean, are you making snow angels or cookies?"

Ocean giggles, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Both!" she declares, throwing a puff of flour into the air. It lands on her hair, turning her into a mini snow queen.

Oscar shakes his head, amused, and places the bowl down to help. "Alright, let’s focus on the cookies before we lose the rest of the flour," he says, guiding Ocean’s tiny hands to press a star cutter into the dough.

"Daddy, do you like stars or trees better?" Ocean asks, glancing up at him.

Oscar pretends to think for a moment. "Hmm, I think I like stars better because they remind me of you and Odessa—my two brightest stars."

Odessa rolls her eyes in good-natured embarrassment. "Papa, that’s so cheesy."

You laugh, nudging Odessa gently. "Sometimes cheesy is good, honey."

As the cookies bake in the oven, the four of you sit at the table, readying bowls of icing and sprinkles for decorating. Odessa picks up a piping bag, her little hands steady as she carefully outlines her gingerbread man’s shirt. Ocean, meanwhile, goes for an avant-garde approach, covering her cookie with every color of icing she can reach.

"Ocean, your gingerbread man looks like a rainbow exploded on him," Odessa comments, tilting her head as she examines her work.

"It’s called art," Ocean replies with a dramatic flip of her flour-dusted hair.

Oscar hides a grin behind his hand, leaning over to whisper to you. "She’s got your sass."

You laugh softly, watching your little ones pour their hearts into their creations. When the cookies are finally finished, Odessa presents her gingerbread man with a proud grin. "Look, Daddy, it’s you!"

Oscar inspects the cookie’s neat icing tie and buttoned shirt, his eyes crinkling with delight. "Wow, Odessa. You’ve made me look very handsome."

"And this one’s Mommy!" Ocean chimes in, holding up a colorful cookie that’s practically drowning in sprinkles.

You gasp playfully. "Ocean, I’ve never looked better."

The evening ends with all four of you sitting on the couch, enjoying your gingerbread creations and a Christmas movie playing softly in the background. Odessa leans against Oscar’s side, and Ocean cuddles in your lap, both happily munching on their cookies. As the glow of the Christmas tree lights flickers across the room, you catch Oscar’s eye. He smiles at you, the warmth in his gaze saying everything words can’t.

The kitchen may be clean now, the flour swept away and the cookie cutters put back in their drawers, but the memory of this perfect family moment will linger long after the last crumb is gone.

Sebastian

The kitchen is lively with chatter as Sebastian stands at the counter, helping your children, Tommy, Jamie, and Ambria, shape gingerbread cookies. Jamie, determined to make the perfect reindeer, furrows his brows in concentration while Ambria giggles, sprinkling flour onto the table—and accidentally onto Sebastian’s hair.

"Ambria," Sebastian says in mock seriousness, brushing flour off his curls, "are you trying to turn me into a snowman?"

Ambria bursts into laughter. "You’d make the best snowman, Papa!" she declares, tossing another puff of flour into the air. Jamie snickers, but his focus remains on his dough.

"Alright, alright," you interject, smiling as you place a tray of freshly shaped cookies onto the counter. "Let’s save some flour for the actual baking, shall we?"

Sebastian grins at you, his green eyes sparkling. "They’re creative, what can I say?"

The oven hums as the first batch of cookies bakes, filling the air with the warm, spiced scent of gingerbread. Jamie and Ambria lean against the counter, eagerly watching the timer count down.

"Papa," Jamie says, glancing up at Sebastian, "why do we always make gingerbread cookies at Christmas?"

Sebastian kneels to Jamie’s level, his hands resting on his son’s flour-dusted shoulders. "Because it’s a tradition," he explains gently. "It’s something we do together as a family, so that every Christmas, we can remember these moments."

Ambria tilts her head thoughtfully. "Like a memory we can eat?"

Sebastian chuckles, pulling her into a hug. "Exactly, my little philosopher."

When the cookies are done, the decorating begins. Ambria meticulously decorates each cookie with colorful icing and sprinkles, while Jamie opts for a simpler approach, carefully outlining each one. Sebastian joins in, creating a gingerbread version of each family member.

"This one’s Mama," he says, holding up a cookie with icing hair that matches yours. "Beautiful, just like the real thing."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Seb."

Later, as the cookies cool, the four of you sit around the Christmas tree with mugs of hot chocolate, the lights casting a soft glow around the room. Ambria snuggles into Sebastian’s side, her head resting on his shoulder, while Jamie leans against your arm, holding a gingerbread cookie shaped like a snowman.

"These are the best cookies we’ve ever made," Ambria declares, her voice sleepy but content.

Sebastian smiles, pressing a kiss to her hair. "That’s because we made them together," he says softly, his gaze meeting yours.

In that moment, surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the scent of gingerbread, you realize that these simple traditions, messy, flour-filled, and full of love, are what make the holidays truly magical.

Jenson

Your home is filled with the chaos and warmth only a family of seven can create. The kitchen is a whirlwind of activity as your five children—eleven-year-old Orion, nine-year-old Brandon, eight-year-old Killian, four-year-old Isabella, and one-year-old Luna—all take their positions around the counter. Jenson stands at the center, his sleeves rolled up and a mischievous grin on his face, ready to lead the troops.

“Alright, everyone,” Jenson announces, clapping his hands. “We’re making gingerbread cookies. Team Button, are you ready?”

“Yes!” Orion and Brandon shout, already reaching for the flour and rolling pins. Killian grabs a handful of cookie cutters, examining them with the precision of a race engineer. Isabella bounces on her stool, her excitement contagious as she claps her flour-dusted hands. Luna, perched safely in her highchair, babbles happily, smacking her little fists against the tray.

You laugh, standing back for a moment to watch the organized chaos unfold. “This is either going to be amazing or a complete disaster,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter.

Jenson winks at you. “It’ll be both,” he replies confidently.

Orion, the eldest and self-appointed leader of the kids, takes charge of measuring the ingredients. “Dad, do we really need this much cinnamon?” he asks, holding up the spice jar.

Jenson pretends to think deeply. “Hmm, cinnamon makes everything better, so maybe add just a little more.”

Brandon nudges Orion with a smirk. “He just wants an excuse to eat more cookies.”

Killian, meanwhile, has commandeered the cookie cutters and is lining them up in a perfect row. “We need a reindeer, a star, and a Christmas tree,” he declares. “And maybe a race car, if we can make one.”

“A race car?” Jenson grins, his eyes lighting up. “That’s my boy.”

Isabella, not to be outdone, grabs a rolling pin and starts flattening the dough with all her might. “I’m making the biggest cookie ever!” she announces, her tiny hands working with determination. You step in to help guide her efforts, laughing as she sticks her tongue out in concentration.

As the dough begins to take shape, Luna decides she’s had enough of just watching. She smacks her tray again, this time sending a puff of flour into the air.

“Luna wants to help too,” you say, lifting her out of the highchair and handing her a soft piece of dough to squish in her tiny fists. She giggles, smearing it across her cheeks like war paint.

“She’s starting her own cookie war,” Jenson jokes, snapping a picture on his phone.

Once the cookies are cut and placed on baking sheets, the decorating begins. Orion and Brandon focus on intricate designs, their competitive streaks coming out as they try to outdo each other. Killian, ever the perfectionist, takes his time with each cookie, ensuring every sprinkle is in its rightful place. Isabella opts for a more abstract approach, piling on as much icing and candy as possible. Luna, of course, eats more sprinkles than she applies, her little face sticky with sugar.

“Look at this one,” Jenson says, holding up a gingerbread man with a green icing bow tie. “This is Uncle Lewis. What do you think?”

The kids burst into laughter. “He needs sunglasses!” Orion suggests, grabbing black icing to add the finishing touch.

When the cookies are finally done and cooling on the racks, the kitchen looks like a snowstorm of flour and sugar has hit it. Jenson surveys the mess with a chuckle. “Well, we might need a pit crew to clean this up.”

“I’ll help, Dad,” Brandon volunteers, grabbing a dishcloth.

“Me too!” Killian chimes in, his perfectionist tendencies extending to tidying up.

As the cleaning begins, you notice Isabella carefully placing her cookies on a plate. “These are for Santa,” she explains, her voice serious. “He needs the best ones.”

“And these are for us,” Orion says, holding up a tray. “Because we’re the best cookie makers in the world.”

Jenson wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as you watch your children’s teamwork and laughter. “We did good, didn’t we?” he murmurs.

You nod, leaning into him. “Yeah, we really did.”

That night, after the kids are tucked into bed, you and Jenson sit by the Christmas tree, sharing a plate of gingerbread cookies and a quiet moment together. The chaos of the day lingers in the best way, filling your heart with warmth and love.

“Same time next year?” Jenson asks, a playful glint in his eye.

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “Definitely.”

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽! ❥☽ @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @teti-menchon0604 @bxtosa @fadingcloudballoon-blog @whatevenisthisxxxxx @anamiad00msday @luula @jimcarreyfann42 @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld @goldenroutledge @unkownmystery_22 @sophienorris18-blog @flowerpetalk @paucubarsisimp @its-elias-world @magixpracticality @poppyflower-22 @pear-1206

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[realprissygirl]

prtygrlbeauty scent review 🍨

#deliciousdoll series pt. 1 🍥🌸🍬

body nectars:

1. passionfruit princess

“smells like fresh tropical fruits with deep tart hints of passionfruit, lemon, strawberry, and orange.”

omg so yummy and fruity. reminds me of fruit snacks. getting jolly ranchers and starburst from this and i fckn love it.

2. pink sugar

“smells like sweet delectable candy essence with vanilla and musk.”

fluffy, clean and sweet. so so pretty to smell like. loved to mix this one with eos strawberry dream. the definition of sweet without necessarily being gourmand or fruity. yum.

3. brown sugar baby

“smells like whipped vanilla buttercream & caramelized brown sugar, with hints of cream and caramel”

smells like a hot brown sugar latte with heavy cream and cinnamon sugar. i love this so much i’m about to wear tf out of it this fall.

4. cotton candy

“smells like spun caramelized sugar, strawberry, blueberry, and yummy vanilla”

the first thing i thought of was easter basket. super sweet candy smell. this may sound silly but it smells blue. like the color sky blue. almost like a blue raspberry. i love this one so much.

5. angel cake

“smells like soft and sweet angel food cake with a hint of vanilla and sugar, it's like you just took a heavenly bite. perfectly "baked" for you to feel angelic all day!”

cake batter and isn’t overly sweet. just rich and gourmand-y. haven’t used it yet but the smell alone tells me i’ll be using it with a lot of my favorite “bakery” scents.

6. birthday cake

“smells like rich and sweet birthday cake. moist, yellow cake with a rich, sweet butter cream frosting. you'll almost want to eat it! (please don't!)”

super similar to angel cake with a thick air of sweetness of the cake batter. this one is a hit for me and imma use this up so soon i can already tell.

7. cinnamon buns

“smells like ooey-gooey warm cinnamon rolls with vanilla buttercream frosting.”

i used to work in a cafe and when i went to smell this i got a strong memory of “cinnamon dulce”. i love love love this one i’ve used this one quite a bit since i got my second haul. a pure cinnamon and syrup scent.

8. strawberry vanilla macaron

“smells like sweet strawberry and rhubarb blended with creamy vanilla and spun sugar. hints of butter frosting, red berries, caramel, vanilla ice cream, and macarons.”

a strawberry glazed donut. strawberry, icing, and vanilla. so yummy.

9. sugar cookie

“smells like the perfect sugar cookie with buttercream frosting! notes of powdered sugar, butter and fresh cream!”

a less overwhelming take on “birthday cake”. slightly warm. everything the “sugar cookie” perfume oil should have been.

10. strawberry shortie

“smells like strawberry shortcake, fresh sliced strawberries, warm vanilla cake, and fluffy whipped cream.”

reminds me of strawberry shortcake by canvas beauty in the sense that it smells like fake sweet strawberry and i love love love it soooo much. smells like an old strawberry shortcake lip balm from childhood.

11. ur berry cute

“smells like yummy black raspberry vanilla! notes of ripe black raspberries, dark plum, and warm vanilla!”

think of the smell of grape soda. definitely similar to black raspberry vanilla by bbw (one of my all time favorites). this might sound crazy but it smells so good to me. the heaviest candy like smell and it’s even better layered with other fruity scents.

perfume oils:

1. sugar cookie

“smells like the perfect sugar cookie with buttercream frosting! notes of powdered sugar, butter and fresh cream!”

i have to be honest. i didn’t like this at all. i got the creaminess but that was it. it smelled sort of sour. but luckily this is the only thing i’ve tried that i didn’t like from the brand. so on we move.

2. pink sugar

“smells like sweet sugar, vanilla, custard & marshmallow”

the scent smells like the color pink if that makes any sense. very clean and sweet. like sugar and powder blended together. it’s one of my favorites!

3. cozy sugar

“smells like warm vanilla sugar: intoxicating vanilla, white orchid, sparkling sugar, fresh jasmine and creamy sandalwood.”

warm, sweet, and almost synthetic. it almost reminds me of strawberry dream by eos. i can’t wait to layer her with my gourmand perfumes.

4. pumpkin pecan

“smells like belgian waffle, creamy pumpkin, butter pecan, walnut, maple & fall spices.”

sweet with an undertone of spice. so buttery and yummy. i don’t get too much pumpkin but cinnamon is sticking out to me. i literally love it and i’m so glad to have it in my fall collection.

5. whipped berries

“smells like berry, whipped vanilla and peach blossom”

baby powder and mixed berries. pretty clean and not overwhelming at all.

6. flower fields

“smells like fresh flower fields! star notes: freesia, green leaves, tuberose, jasmine sambac, egyptian jasmine, rose de mai, peach, oakmoss & cedar.”

straight florals. no other families of fragrance and honestly i love it. makes it super nice to layer or amplify other florals i have (and help dial back the sweetness of some sweet florals i love). reminds me of chanel chance.

7. whipped spice

“smells like whipped vanilla cream, cinnamon, honey & corriander.”

immediately thought of almond blossom and oat milk by vs. i don’t get too much spice from this. rather a lactonic sweet and creamy smell. i personally love the honey and think it’ll be perfect for fall.

8. fruit snacks

“smells like citrusy, juicy, sweet fruit! star notes: raspberry, citrus, candy & rose.”

my absolute favorite of them all. i wear it nearly daily. such a sweet fruity gourmand. has a candy quality to it. if you like any sweet mists by bbw you’d love this.

9. vanilla bean

“smells like whipped cream, vanilla, caramel, chocolate, musk & benzoin”

a clean but rich vanilla. reminds me of a vanilla deodorant. then there’s a warm kick to the bottom notes. i love it.

10. cake pop

“smells like soft, sweet & fluffy confetti cake”

powdered sugar and sprinkles. cake pop is a fitting name when you think of the icing and sprinkles a cake pop has. i wore this out with sweet like candy and it brought a deeper layer to the ari perfume. but other than for layering, i don’t reach for it too often.

11. strawberry cake

“smells like fresh strawberries & fluffy shortcake and whipped cream.”

imagine if bubble bath by maison margiela and strawberry pound cake were mixed and that’s what this gives to me. candy with a bit of a fresh, clean note.

12. white mocha

“smells like white chocolate, cozy cappuccino, vanilla orchid, and white tonka bean.”

mocha is chocolate but i didn’t get any chocolate from this but what it does smell like is something you’d get a coffee shop around christmas time. just not chocolatey. marshmallow-y. sweet but not overwhelming. VERY long lasting.

13. warm cream

“smells like light & sweet vanilla backed by a rich and heavy amber. an exotic, creamy vanilla scent.”

another one of my favorite oils. sugary with a bit of noticeable amber. lasts super long and is extremely versatile.

14. soft vanilla

“smells like soft, sweet & warm vanilla and musk.”

barely there. a clean vanilla scent. tiny bit of sandalwood. i think it would layer so well year round.

15. vanilla powder

“smells like soft vanilla orchid, warm cashmere, golden amber, and light florals. a clean vanilla scent.”

extremely similar to vanilla bean but stronger and creamier. also reminds of armani my way’s bottom notes.

[sodaabaa]

powdered sugar kisses 

anthony bridgerton x wife!reader anthony searches aubrey hall for his wife, only to find her where he least expected a viscountess to be.

tw: slightly nsfw, mostly fluff.

“Excuse me, would you happen to know where my wife might be?” Anthony asked a nearby maid. He’d searched nearly the entire house – quite a feat given the sheer size of his family’s estate – and he was beginning to worry when his wife was nowhere to be found. Most often when Anthony came home from whatever viscount duties required his attention that day, his wife could be found perched on a window sill with her nose in a book or tending to the garden. Today, she was not found reading nor gardening – and she wasn’t in their bedroom or any of the living areas either. The maid looked at Anthony, hesitant to answer his question. He raised an expectant brow, waiting for an answer.

“She’s in the kitchen, my lord,” she confessed.

The kitchen? What on earth could she be doing in the kitchen?

Anthony made his way downstairs to the kitchen, wondering what she could possibly be doing. He was met with the sight of his beloved wife wearing a flour-coated apron, bent over a tray of cookies. Her hair was tied up to keep it out of her face but despite the hastily done updo, stray hairs framed her face. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she held a bag of icing, piping intricate designs onto the cookies – or at least attempting to. “Was the cook indisposed?” He finally said, breaking the silence.

His wife jumped, startled at his sudden appearance.

“Anthony! When did you arrive?” She asked, a smile forming on her face. He looked her up and down, denoting his surprise at finding her in such an unusual position. 

"Just a moment ago -- what are you doing?" He asked.

“Oh! I felt rather restless this afternoon without you, so I thought perhaps I try my hand at baking. I made biscuits!” She explained, dusting her hands on her apron before removing it. She picked up one of the sweets, excitedly bringing it over to show Anthony. He watched her dazedly as she walked over, mesmerized by her beauty, even in her current state of disarray. 

"Yes, I gathered as much, you are aware you are a viscountess, correct?"

She rolled her eyes, brushing off his question.

“I’m not quite good at designing them just yet – but they taste fantastic!” She said, taking a bite out of the sugary biscuit and then offering it to Anthony. He took a bite as she held it up for him. “They taste lovely, much like the chef,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

Nothing could taste sweeter than the woman before him. Though, perhaps that was the light dusting of powdered sugar on her lips from the cookie. He brought his lips to her sugared ones, letting the sweet dust melt away between them. She giggled into the kiss and Anthony had to restrain himself from taking her right here and now. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to him to deepen the kiss.

“Anthony!” She squealed.

He pulled away, “Why would one ever need such confections with a wife such as you?” He smiled at her fondly, he hated being away from her for long stretches of the day.

She blushed, narrowing her eyes at him 

“Feeling bashful, are we?” He peppered kisses along her cheek, making a path towards her ear. She tried to swat him away but he only held her closer, pressing her chest to his. His breath tickled her ear, eliciting another giggle to Anthony’s pleasure. 

“What if someone comes in, Anthony!” She said in a hushed voice, trying to keep her composure. 

“Let them,” he found her lips again. She moaned into the kiss, breaking all of Anthony’s last remaining bits of resolve. 

He hoisted her up on the kitchen counter, breaking their kiss to remove the rather inconvenient layers of clothing he wore. His wife looked up at him in shock though her chest rose and fell rapidly in anticipation. His hands found his wife’s waist once more, pulling her close and returning his lips to hers. Her hands came up to his chest, untying the laces at the front of his shirt, just as eager as he was to rid themselves of the pesky boundary. His lips trailed down her neck, hands reaching up to pull her neckline down. He made a path from her neck down to her chest and then her stomach, lifting her skirt as he made his way down. He kneeled before her, looking up at her as he found her inner thigh. She gasped, causing Anthony to smirk at her sensitivity. She was supple and soft and sweet as he placed rough kisses on her thighs, leaving a burning path behind as he inched closer to what he truly wanted to taste. 

“Anthony, please,” she begged. 

“Patience, dear wife,” he whispered. She groaned, her hands snaking up his neck, running through his hair. She tried to push him closer, but before she could, he grabbed each of her hands in his and held them against the counter. She whined and wiggled, upset at his restraint. He only laughed at her impatience, the sudden vibrations causing her to shudder. He would satisfy her eventually but Anthony had always been one to savor his desserts rather than indulge himself all at once.

[inevesgf]

“come here, idiot” and oscar? 😇

"come here, idiot"⠀ + ⠀oscar piastri ⠀༉ ‧₊˚. ⠀prompt list here.

oscar comes to realize how wonderful of a chef his girlfriend is and wants to join in on the fun, though he can't bake to save his life.

content + warnings: oscar piastri + female reader, swearing, basically pure fluff. word count 1.1k+.

i fear oscar is so cutie i can't.. still working to plow out more of these blurbs so stay tuned x if you would like to find other works from this special or read my other works, click the link here ⋆·˚ ༘ * notes + reblogs are heavily appreciated and don't forget to tell me your thoughts via comment, reblog or ask.

the kitchen was alive with warmth and light, the morning sun spilling through the window and illuminating the scattered flour that dusted the counter. a cozy hum of hozier’s music played softly in the background, filling the air with a calming tone as you fished in the cabinet for ingredients. a tattered apron was tied snugly upon your waist, and you were certainly in your element as the aroma of vanilla and butter filled the air. 

baking was your santucary, a place where you felt free and at ease. if anything big or small was bothering you, you’d dive head first into some intricate recipe and bake the blues away. usually alone in the kitchen, you found yourself getting lost in the world of flour and sugar, whipping up pastries as if you were a five star chef, but you were quickly pulled out of your fantasy when a voice erupted, the tone laced with confusion.

“is it egg first or flour first?” oscar questioned, turning over to you as he raised a brow, holding the ingredients in his hands. a small laugh escaped your lips at his state, the boy's hair tangled in every which way as flour covered his apron. “it doesn’t matter, you know,” you teased, placing a small tube of vanilla extract on the counter next to him, “it’s all going in the same bowl, osc.”

you knew baking with your boyfriend wasn’t going to be all that easy, yet you didn’t expect him to be entirely clueless. growing up in a household full of girls, you were sure oscar had helped his mother out once or twice, but that clearly wasn’t the case – the boy was practically running around like a chicken with his head cut off.

“i don’t know how you do it,” oscar mumbled, trying to multitask between talking and cracking the egg delicately into the bowl, “you have to be so patient for this shit – what’s the fun in baking if you have to wait for the sweets? it’s no fun.” a joking tone fell from oscars lips as he discarded the empty egg shell into the trash bin, looking over at you with a smug look.

“that’s the fun part, you see, it’s like a little reward at the end of all your hard work,” you chuckled, smiling over at him softly. oscar swore up and down he was a big boy: able to follow the instructions and bake the cookies by himself, but he cleary wasn’t all that as he began to struggle. pouring some flour into the measuring cup, oscar raised a brow in confusion, his gaze looking similar to a baby who just saw its reflection for the first time. 

you playfully rolled your eyes, advancing towards oscar as if to offer help. “it’s not rocket science, osc,” a teasing tone poisioned your words, causing oscar to grumble and step to the side, “let me show you.” you moved gracefully over to oscar, your apron tied securely as you began to measure out flour with careful precision. you poured it into a mixing bowl, the powder puffing gently into the air. oscar huffed out, baffled at how you could do this so effortlessly, his gaze focused intently on the task at hand.

“see?” you hummed, “easy-peasy.” to which oscar found himself grumbling once more, coming back over to the bowl as he picked the spoon up from the flour covered cabinet. “can’t you just work the magic while i stand here and look pretty?” he teased, shoving the spoon into the bowl, “i can be your second-hand – toss the ingredients to you.”

a small laugh fell from your lipsticked lips again as you hummed, shaking your head back and forth. “i mean, you’d be great help, but this is supposed to be bonding time, remember? not myself baking while you sit and watch,” you joked, splashing a tad of vanilla into the bowl oscar began to stir, using his muscles to blend the thick batter. 

“i’m not great help, you know,” oscar laughed, huffing to blow the hair away from his forehead, the strands falling lazily as it clouded his view, “can’t keep myself together enough to bake.” you found yourself chuckling at his words once more, tightening the apron before lazily pushing the strand away from his amber eyes. 

you hummed again, leaning your body against the table, studying him softly as he blended the mixture in the bowl. the morning sunlight peered through the window, the suns rays illuminating the most miniscule of oscar’s features. you couldn’t help but oogle at the way his muscles flexed, the tiny freckles decorating his forearm comparable to the details on a roman statue.

“you may not be great help, but you’re wonderful company,” you teased, your eyes dancing over his face as his eyes looked over to you, a small smile overtaking his visage, “and i’ll pay you handsomely with these cookies for helping out even a little.” as if your words were the best hums of thought he had ever heard, the smile on oscar’s face only grew larger, a satisfied whistle falling past his lips as he mixed the batter.

oscar finished stirring the mixture, bringing the spoon to his lips as he looked you dead in the eye, his eagerness to piss off his ‘master-chef’ girlfriend promiment in his actions. keeping the spoon close to his lips, oscar stuck his tongue out, savoring the rich flavor as he licked the spoon clean. though as oscar relished the moment, a generous dollop of the batter betrayed him, slipping from the spoon as it landed squarely on his cheek.

startled slightly from the cold batter making contact with his skin, oscar froze, his eyes widening in surprise as a chuckle slipped past his lips. he glanced in your direction, your laughter bubbling up like the batter itself – bright and infectious. 

“come here, idiot,” in a moment of playful tenderness, you stepped forward, brushing the batter off his cheek with the soft pad of your thumb. your touch lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary, causing even the man you loved for years to blush deeply at the affection.

“there,” you spoke, smiling as you wiped your finger on a nearby dish towel, “now you’re ready to keep baking, chef osc.” oscar grinned, the playful banter hanging in the air like the sweet scent of the cookie batter.

the atmosphere was charged with a loving intimacy, a sense of joy enveloping the two of you. the laughter and warmth radiating between both of you felt as sweet as the pastries you were making, binding they two of you together in a dance where you played teacher.  it didn’t matter to you as you grew patient with oscar and his lack of baking skills, helping him step by step. even if he couldn’t use something as simple as a measuring cup, he was still your new baking buddy – one that didn’t fail to make you laugh as he made a mess of your small kitchen.

© inevesgf do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or claim any of my works as your own. notes + reblogs are heavily appreciated! ⋆·˚ ༘ * find my other works here.

[cailinsblog]

A Sweet Christmas | Lando Norris

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando Norris and his girlfriend, Y/N, spend a cozy Christmas evening baking cookies together. Despite Lando’s playful messes, they laugh and enjoy decorating the cookies. The night is filled with warmth, love, and holiday magic as they relax by the tree and savor their homemade treats.

Masterlist

The snow had started to fall softly outside the windows of Lando Norris' cozy apartment. It was the kind of quiet, peaceful evening that you could only find around Christmas, when everything felt a little bit more magical. Inside, the soft glow of fairy lights twinkled around the living room, and the warm scent of cinnamon and gingerbread had begun to fill the air.

Y/N was standing in front of the kitchen counter, her apron tied around her waist, carefully measuring out flour. She was excited for their Christmas tradition, even if it was something simple—making cookies together. It had become something of a special ritual for the two of them. Lando might spend most of his time on the racetrack, but when it came to Christmas, he was more than happy to trade in fast cars for flour-covered countertops.

Lando, for his part, was currently attempting to "help" by sifting the powdered sugar... a task he had apparently decided was too easy and, therefore, not nearly as fun. Instead, he was playing around, tossing little clouds of sugar up in the air and watching them drift down like snowflakes. Y/N chuckled as one of them landed in his hair.

“Lando!” she laughed, reaching for a paper towel to wipe some sugar off his shoulder. “You’re making a mess!”

He grinned sheepishly, but there was something incredibly endearing about his childlike energy. “Hey, I’m helping! You just don’t understand the art of creating the perfect snowfall effect with powdered sugar,” he teased, flicking a bit more in her direction.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, holding up the flour and gesturing with a teasing smile. “I think you’re just making a bigger mess than we need to clean up later.”

“You can’t rush art,” Lando replied with mock seriousness, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

Y/N shook her head but couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across her face. “Well, while you’re busy perfecting your snowstorm, I’m actually going to start making the dough,” she said, grabbing a bowl and starting to mix the ingredients.

Lando watched her for a moment, a mischievous glint in his eye as he leaned against the counter. “I can do that too, you know. I’m good with my hands. Maybe I’ll make the best dough ever.”

“Oh really?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You can barely bake a cookie without burning it, let alone make the dough.”

“That was one time!” he protested, holding up a finger. “It was a *very* complicated recipe.”

She smirked, already knowing he was about to get defensive. “Sure, Lando. You’re probably right,” she said dryly, handing him the rolling pin. “But for now, you can roll out the dough, okay?”

Lando nodded like he’d just been given the most important job in the world. He immediately took the rolling pin and started to roll out the dough with exaggerated concentration, as though the fate of the Christmas cookies rested entirely on his shoulders. Y/N could hardly contain her laughter at his antics.

After a few minutes of him dramatically rolling out the dough, he grinned triumphantly. “All done! Now, what’s next?”

Y/N moved in to take a look, inspecting his work. The dough was unevenly rolled, with some parts much thinner than others, but she didn’t mind. It would all taste the same in the end. “Okay, now we can cut out the shapes,” she said, pulling out a set of cookie cutters in the shape of stars, snowflakes, and Christmas trees. “Are you ready to make some Christmas magic?”

“Born ready,” Lando said, positioning himself beside her. “But I’m going to warn you, I’m excellent at decorating cookies. Like, top-tier.”

Y/N laughed. “We’ll see about that. I have a feeling you’re going to end up eating most of the decorations instead of using them.”

They spent the next hour rolling, cutting, and laughing. Y/N couldn’t help but love the way Lando’s enthusiasm was so contagious. Even when he accidentally made a dough explosion or ended up with flour on his face, he just laughed it off, turning every mishap into an inside joke.

When the cookies were finally ready to go into the oven, Y/N turned to him, her smile softening. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun baking before.”

Lando shrugged, his expression warm. “It’s the company, not the cookies, that makes it fun.”

As the cookies baked, they moved into the living room, where the Christmas tree twinkled with lights and the soft hum of holiday music filled the background. Y/N curled up on the couch, and Lando joined her, draping an arm over her shoulders.

They sat in content silence, only the sound of the occasional pop from the fireplace breaking the quiet. The world outside seemed far away as they simply enjoyed the moment—together, cozy, and happy. It wasn’t the holiday shopping or the big celebrations that made Christmas special; it was these simple, quiet moments.

Eventually, the timer went off, and they both jumped up, rushing back to the kitchen to check on their cookies. The smell was heavenly—spiced with cinnamon, ginger, and sugar. Lando opened the oven door and pulled out the tray with exaggerated care, pretending like he was handling fragile treasure.

After a few minutes of cooling, it was time for the best part: decorating. Y/N set out icing, sprinkles, and little edible pearls, and Lando was immediately at it, piping colorful swirls of icing onto the cookies with absolute concentration.

“You really are good at this,” Y/N said, genuinely impressed as he carefully outlined the snowflakes.

“I told you,” Lando grinned. “I’m a natural.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling as she began decorating her own cookies. They worked together in harmony, sometimes making faces at each other over their icing, sometimes getting into little “cookie decorating contests” to see who could make the prettiest designs. Of course, most of the cookies ended up a little lopsided, but that was part of the charm. Every one was unique and full of love.

When they were finally finished, they stepped back to admire their work. The plate of cookies before them was a sweet, colorful mess of imperfect but delicious-looking treats.

“Well, we definitely won’t be winning any decorating contests,” Y/N said with a laugh, “but I think we’ve created some Christmas magic.”

“Agreed,” Lando said, looking at the plate with a satisfied grin. “They look like something straight out of a holiday movie… except maybe with a little more personality.”

They shared a laugh before grabbing the first cookie from the plate and taking a bite. The warm, sugary taste was perfect, and they both sighed contentedly.

“I think we’ve made some of the best Christmas cookies ever,” Y/N said, looking at him with soft eyes.

Lando smiled, his expression tender. “Yeah, I think we have too.”

They shared a quiet moment, just enjoying each other's company and the happiness of the season. In that moment, surrounded by laughter, cookies, and the warmth of Christmas, Lando and Y/N knew that this was what the holidays were really all about.

And as they settled in with a plate of cookies and a cup of hot cocoa, the world outside continued to drift by, but inside, everything was perfect.

💕💕Remember reblog helps a lot guy💕💕

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, possessive behavior, confinement, hinted non - con, stockholm syndrome kinda, christmas edition yap

You were never such a big fan of the holiday season. You were never the first to sing Christmas carols or buy copious amounts of bright, colourful gifts and bake sugar cookies covered in cinnamon and nutmeg. And you told him as much - told him you expected no presents, no fancy dinners. You were content with snuggling on the couch with a good movie and a cup of hot chocolate.

He didn't listen, of course - he rarely did. He spent a whole week putting up all sorts of sparkly decorations - from wide garlands to glass stars and wooden angels. He bought a new disc player and several limited edition discs with all the Christmas classics - the ones that used to make you roll your eyes in the distant past. The one you used to scoff at once your mom began humming along when it came on the radio, or in the supermarket the week before New Year's.

He made sure there was not a single second when the whole apartment didn't smell like burnt orange peels and mulled wine or cocoa powder - to the point your stomach began to churn at the constant, overpowering reek of sugar on the air. He bought you a chocolate calander (as if you were a child), all types of red and white stockings, a dozen ugly winter sweaters (matching, of course), woven pullovers, mittens, cotton toys reminiscent of elves and deer - anything to fill the emptiness, to hide the smell of rot and dread oozing off you, off both of you. But nothing could prepare you for today. The morning of the 25th December.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

"C'mon." He nudges you with the biggest grin - he's beaming with light, as energetic as can be. And yet you're tired, despite it being late morning blending into midday. You have no memories of last night, of Christmas Eve. You know you were drinking, perhaps having a laugh here and there. And then you got upset - sad, maybe? Why you were sad, you don't recall. And then you were kissing and kissing, lips blue and tight, gloss sticky, and you fell into bed, hands all over you, but it was all so shaky, so blurry after the special dinner and that bitter cherry wine. Somehow even now it brings tears to your eyes. "Oh, don't cry, darling, please don't cry." He cooes at you, rubbing soothing circles into your back. "I promise you will like your present."

Oh yes. The present. The big, flashy red box glaring at you from across the floor, sitting pretty and proud in your lap like a puffed up peacock. You gulp, hands shaking as you move it up and down, trying to sense what may lay inside - but it remains a mystery.

Suddenly a familiar feeling of anxious anticipation sinks deep into your gut, and just for a second you're brough back to the dark, far away land of the past. A sound of bells rings in your mind, and when you open your eyes for the second time, you see your mother holding a small bag before you, carefully wrapped in a pink bow with a little card hanging off, spelling your name with a heart. Your hands shake that time too, as you struggle to unwrap the paper. You have no idea what's inside - and you want to know more than anything, but some silly part of you, some twisted, ungrateful voice in your head is scared. If you like it, you'll have to make a big scene of grattitude. If you hate it, the scene will have to be even bigger. Not a scene, but a whole performance. Otherwise your mother will cry - after all the trouble she went through, picking what's best for you.

"Darling, open it." He repeats, voice dropping with irritation as he shoves the box down. You jump slightly, ripped away from the precious memory. "You know what this means for me." He continues, even more serious and stern now, eyes darkening. Your heartbeat fastens, hands grippling with the satin wrap. "This is our fifth Christmas together. I know in the past you didn't feel..." He takes a deep breath. "Settled in." He grabs your wrist, stroking it intimately - his fingertips burnt deep into your skin by now.

"But this Christmas, it's different. I can feel it in the air tonight." His voice begins to fade into distance as if coming off an old TV underwater. "It feels like home. Like we are one happy family. And who knows what's ahead..." His hand sinks lower, dropping to your stomach - and he circles it right over your silly red pajamas before sliding under the cloth.

He keeps talking, but you don't understand the words. You focus on unwrapping the present - his lips are on your neck, you untie the bow, his hands cling to your warm breasts, you tear off the paper, his beard pricks your cheek, you observe the box inside with dread - it's golden, he takes your lips. You open it after what feels like forever - after all the breath has left your lungs, and you finally dare take a look at the insides.

The gift is lovely - or should you say the gifts? It's an endless pit of everything you used to dream of. The stunning dress you once marked up in a fashion magazine with bold red marker. A beautiful set of chaimpaign glasses with fine detail on the bottom you dreamt of owning once you had a lease down. Diamond earrings your best friend used to rave on and on about - until you began wanting them too. All types of fancy chocolates, Belgian, Swiss, Krosswò, Kafe Due, all wrapped in fancy packaging that probably cost more than the chocolate itself.

"So? Do you like it?" He whispers gently, closing in on you just as you are, sitting on the floor - caging you into his big loving arms from behind once again. You freeze, unable to do much other than nod. "I hope you do." He continues before he even registers your answer. "I hope it's enough to make you happy."

But you're not. You're not fucking happy, and you haven't been for a while now. Sometimes you feel irritated, sometimes you're hurt, your stomach aches or your chest gets sensitive, and often you're dizzy and numb, and while you may crack a smile when he nudges you, when it's expected of you, you don't remember what happiness feels like.

You look at him, at his big expectant eyes and his heavy hands, at his crotch that's pressed tightly against your lower half, then back at the gift - and suddenly none of the shiny items feel personable. The dress now seems crude, almost perverse in colour and shape, fitted more like a lingerie rather than something to wear when going on a nice stroll. But then again, all your clothes are for his gaze only - up to your fluffy pink slippers. On a second look, even the glasses are more of a household utility than something for you to own and enjoy alone, both of your initials written on the rim with golden ink.

"Try the earrings on." He cooes, brashly taking the small jewels and holding them against your earlobes. "I've dreamt of seeing those little beauties on you. Now we can finally throw away those flashy fake loops your mom gave you." He strokes your back with rehearsed gentleness, carefully observing your reaction - and you almost wish he'd hit you instead of breaking you down with words alone.

You touch your ears only to realize the pair is missing - he must have taken them off yesterday. Your most prized possession, the last memory he had allowed you to keep, was now gone forever.

"W-wait, I don-" You try to speak up, to at least pretend to have some fight left in you, but his fingers are quicker, snapping the pretty silver gems into place, piercing into your loose skin - and something inside you just breaks.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, my dear. Oh, how I love you." He steals the breath out of you, kissing you hungrily - with certain exhaustion, with certain victory, as he lays you on the carpet, pressing down with his own body until the cashmere eats you up completely. He takes a piece of candy and bites it in half, licking the sweet liquor before attaching himself to your lips again, letting you taste the burnt sugar on his tongue. "Marry Christmas." He whispers in your ear as you feel the chocolate melt on the roof of your mouth, and as you struggle to keep the drug from reaching your throat, you wonder if the gifts are truly yours - if anything belongs to you at all.

[thesecondhandwoman]

CHRISTMAS COOKIE CATASTROPHE

Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: It was Christmas Eve, and you and Sevika were trying to make cookies. But, with your lack of not making a mess, even with Sevika’s help, your baking session turned into a floury mess.

The kitchen smelled faintly of cinnamon and sugar, though the full Christmas cookie experience was still a long way off. Sevika stood at the counter with a smirk playing at her lips, her sleeves rolled up to reveal her muscular arms as she expertly mixed a batch of cookie dough. Across from her, you were frowning at a measuring cup like it had personally insulted you.

“Okay, so if the recipe says ‘packed brown sugar,’ does that mean I just squish it into the cup, or is there, like, an official technique?” you asked, brow furrowed.

Sevika chuckled, a low, warm sound that made your heart flutter. “You squish it in, sweetheart. Like this.” She reached over, taking the sugar and pressing it firmly into the cup with her fingers. “There. Not rocket science.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, but some of us didn’t grow up knowing how to bake cookies like an expert.” You stuck your tongue out at her, but she just shrugged, smirking.

“Not my fault I had to keep Jinx and Isha fed without setting the house on fire. You learn fast when your life depends on it, especially when Christmas time comes around.”

You snorted at the image of a younger Sevika, stressed and likely covered in batter, trying to corral two chaos gremlins while making something edible. “That explains why you’re so annoyingly good at this.”

“What can I say? I’m multi-talented.” She winked, turning back to her bowl and kneading the dough with one hand while holding a recipe card in the other.

Meanwhile, you were wrestling with a new opponent: the bag of flour. It was one of those massive ones that seemed to exist solely to mock your lack of upper-body strength. “Ugh, why do they make these so hard to open?!” you grumbled, tugging at the corner of the bag.

“Careful,” Sevika warned, glancing up. “You’re gonna—”

“I’ve got it!” you interrupted, giving the bag a sharp yank. And then—poof.

A cloud of fine white powder erupted into the air, coating you from head to toe. Sevika, who had stepped closer to help, caught the brunt of the blast as well. For a moment, there was nothing but silence as the two of you stared at each other, flour settling like snow in your hair, on her prosthetic arm, even on her eyebrows.

Then Sevika burst out laughing. It was a deep, genuine laugh that shook her shoulders and made your cheeks burn, though you couldn’t help but join in. “I told you to be careful,” she said between chuckles, wiping at her face to no avail.

“I was careful!” you protested, though you were grinning. “Careful-ish. This is totally your fault for distracting me with your smug baking skills.”

“Oh, yeah? My fault?” She leaned in, her face inches from yours, her smirk downright mischievous. “Should I let you handle the oven, too? Or are we trying to blow up the kitchen tonight?”

“Hey!” you said, shoving her playfully. “I’ll have you know I’m an expert at, uhm, stirring.”

“Right,” she teased, plucking a stray streak of flour from your cheek. Her touch lingered for a moment, soft and tender, and your playful banter melted into something warmer. “You’re a mess, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat again under her gaze. “But I’m your mess.”

Her smirk softened into a small smile, and she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your flour-covered forehead. “Damn right you are.”

The rest of the evening was chaos in the best way. Sevika took over most of the actual baking, but you stayed by her side, sneaking tastes of dough and occasionally “accidentally” smudging frosting on her cheek. She retaliated by flicking flour at you, and soon the kitchen looked like a holiday war zone.

By the time the cookies were done, you were both covered in a mix of flour, sugar, and laughter. Sevika pulled a tray from the oven, holding it up for you to admire. “See? Perfect. Thanks to my expert skills and your…” She paused, grinning. “Moral support.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know my moral support is the only reason you didn’t burn them.”

“Uh-huh.” She set the tray down and pulled you into her arms, ignoring the mess. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you shot back, wrapping your arms around her. The warmth of her embrace—and the smell of freshly baked cookies—made everything feel perfect.

“Still a mess though.” She teased, smirking at your as she glanced down between flour-covered eyelashes.

“Shut up!” You chuckled, pushing her back a little before tugging her upstairs. “Now let’s hurry and shower so that we can watch a Christmas movie.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

And afterwards, as you sat together that night after cleaning up, sharing cookies that were slightly too crisp on the edges but perfect in their imperfection, you couldn’t think of a better way to spend Christmas Eve.

[solxamber]

Hi! Haven't seen any pomefiore asks yet for the holiday event so can I ask for that with #2 and fluff as the genre? Thanks!

"try not to choose vil for pomefiore" challenge: failed

Sweet as You || Vil Schoenheit

For the Holiday Event! || Theme: Cooking/Baking together ; Genre: Fluff

The scent of cinnamon and almond flour filled the kitchen as you measured out the last of the ingredients. The countertop was a bit messier than you’d intended—there were splashes of oat milk here and a small mountain of protein powder there—but the recipe seemed promising. At least, you hoped so.

You glanced at the recipe card again. “Healthy Holiday Cookies That Don’t Taste Like Sadness.” It had taken hours of searching to find something festive yet Vil-approved.

“Darling,” a familiar voice called from the doorway, “what are you doing?”

You turned to see Vil, looking effortlessly elegant even in his casual at-home wear. His perfectly arched brow lifted as his gaze swept over the kitchen disaster you’d created.

“Baking,” you said cheerfully, gesturing to the chaos. “For the holidays!”

His lips twitched into something halfway between a smile and a grimace. “I thought I mentioned I have a shoot coming up. I can’t indulge in—”

“They’re healthy,” you interrupted quickly. “I found a recipe with all-natural ingredients. No butter, no sugar—well, no regular sugar—and no dairy. They’re practically edible skincare!”

That caught his attention. He walked over to inspect your work, peering at the ingredients and recipe. “Hmm. Interesting. And this is supposed to taste… good?”

“It’s supposed to taste like love,” you said with mock-seriousness, earning a soft laugh from him.

“Would you like to help?” you offered, holding up a whisk. “It’ll be fun. Promise.”

Vil hesitated for a moment, but the way you looked at him—bright-eyed and hopeful—was his undoing. “Very well,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “Show me what to do.”

You grinned, handing him the whisk. Together, the two of you got to work, mixing, kneading, and shaping the dough into neat little stars and trees. Vil, of course, worked with precise efficiency, while you leaned more toward chaotic enthusiasm.

“Here,” he said, stepping behind you to guide your hands as you struggled with the cookie cutter. “Like this.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his closeness, but you played it cool. “See? Teamwork.”

As the cookies baked, you prepared a small bowl of frosting, made with powdered monk fruit and Greek yogurt. You handed Vil the bowl and spoon, but he paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Hold still,” he said, dabbing a small bit of frosting on your cheek.

“Vil!” you gasped, laughing. “You’re not supposed to waste it!”

“It’s hardly a waste,” he said, smirking.

“Oh, really?” You grabbed some frosting and swiped it across the tip of his nose. He froze for a second, then let out a soft, incredulous laugh.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he said, shaking his head.

“I know,” you teased, leaning up to kiss the frosting off his nose.

When the cookies were finally ready, the two of you arranged them on a plate and took a selfie with your creations. Vil’s expression was soft, his arm draped around you as you both smiled at the camera.

Later that evening, as you curled up on the couch with a plate of cookies and a holiday movie, you noticed Vil glancing at his phone.

“Something interesting?” you asked, peeking over his shoulder.

He turned the screen toward you, revealing your selfie set as his wallpaper.

“Nothing more interesting than you,” he said, kissing your forehead.

The cookies, as it turned out, weren’t half bad—but the evening was perfect.

Masterlist