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avastrasposts · 5 months

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A Baker's Dozen - Four

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

I kinda figured you all would like Joel's visit to the bakery! Handy man Joel with his green plaid flannel shirt and tool belt... 🥰

This week's Pedro boy is actually forcing me to adjust the warning level, things get a bit spicier than usual with this one around and I think you'll understand when you see who it is....

Series Master List

The little bakery is buzzing with customers this warm summer evening, you’re serving everyone as fast as possible, cursing the stomach bug that had put the kid who worked extra out of commission for the week. As you ring up two slices of lemon meringue pie for Mrs Callahan from down the street, you notice the buzz increasing in the shop, almost like a wave of excitement. You glance towards the door to see if you can spot the source of the commotion and see a tall, proud looking, man closing it behind himself. His rich yellow jacket is all you have time to notice before you’re pulled back to Mrs Jones asking about the amount of sugar in the Millionaire’s Shortbread (a lot, you assure her, no, it’s not healthy just because it contains peanuts).

You lose track of the stranger as you work your way through the long line, finally looking up to realize he’s the only one left in the shop, except for little Mrs Levinson who is just stepping through the door. The man gallantly takes a step back and indicates with his outstretched hand that she should be served before him.

“Please, my lady, I would be offended if you insisted on waiting behind me.”

He has an accent that you can’t place, vaguely Mediterranean maybe, and clearly very good manners. Mrs Levinson gives him a pleased smile and steps up to the counter to buy her regular weekend dark rye loaf, six chocolate chip cookies and one whole apple and cinnamon crumb coffee cake.

“The grandchildren are visiting on Sunday, and they love your cookies, dear,” she informs you, “the mother just doesn’t know how to bake, why my son married a woman who can’t cook or bake I will never understand.”

“I’m sure she has many other good qualities and skills, Mrs Levinson,” you smile, this is a weekly complaint.

“He should’ve married you, dear, how you are still single is beyond me, such a talented girl in the kitchen,” she pats your hand as she hands over her purse for you to count out what she owes. “But Mrs Pike’s son is single, recently divorced, I’ll make sure she sends him here to buy something, he’s such a lovely boy.”

“Thank you, Mrs Levinson, but I don’t need to be set up, I barely have time to run this bakery, I don’t have time for dating.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find time, my dear,” she winks at you and gives the dark haired man behind her another wink as she turns to leave.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you say to him as the door closes behind Mrs Levinson.

“No trouble, my lady, I was more than delighted to enjoy the view of such a talented girl,” he says with a confident smile, sauntering over towards the counter.

Now that he’s not hidden by the crowd you can see that he is in fact wearing a long robe, reaching down below his knees. But that’s not where your eyes are drawn, instead you find yourself actively trying not to stare at the deep v of bare, tan skin visible where his robe sits open, adorned by an expensive looking necklace. You pull your eyes up to his face, putting on your customer smile, and mentally slapping yourself.

“What can I help you with today, sir?”

At your words you see his mouth quirk in a wicked grin and his eyes wander over as much of you as he can see behind the counter. Ordinarily you’d be somewhat offended by such blatant staring but…considering your own struggle to not gawk at him, if feels admissible.

“I’m sure you can help me with a great many things, my lady,” he says, the lilt in his voice fitting his strange clothes, and the double meaning isn’t lost on you. You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms.

“Really?” you challenge, “And what else but baked goods do you enter a bakery for?”

“Depends on the girl, or the woman, working in the bakery,” he smirks, “when the lady of the bakery is as beautiful as you, I’d like to buy a great many other things than her cakes.”

This line makes you roll your eyes so far back into your head you think they might get stuck there.

“You really think coming into a bakery and suggesting prostitution to the woman who works there is going to win you any favors?”

Now it’s the man’s turn to raise his eyebrows and look surprised for a moment, then he bends his head, bowing deeply to you.

“My lady, I did not wish to offend you at all, I was not suggesting that I would buy any such services from you. Rather I was, badly I’m sure, suggesting that I would like to buy such a beautiful lady gifts, rather than just buying her cakes.”

He looks up at you, his handsome face giving you an apologetic smile, “Please, truly, I did not mean to offend you.”

“Alright, I believe you for now,” you reply, accepting his apology with a slight scowl, “So what can I help you with? In the baked goods department,” you emphasize, waving over towards the display cases.

“I have this,” he says, pulling a bottle of wine from the satchel he has hanging at his side, “it’s cold and delicious on this warm day, but I would like to have something to eat with it. And I saw that you have these,” he points to one of the bags of lemon and almond biscotti in your display case. “They remind me of the small cakes we have back in my city, Sunspear. Will you please let me buy a bag of them?”

“Of course,” you reply, reaching for the biscotti, “Anything else?”

“An hour of your company?” he says, smoothly, with a smile, “But I won’t offer to pay for it, just beg that you will join me with this wine, and your lovely cakes, as a small apology for offending you.”

You look at the man standing on the other side of the counter. His confident smirk has been replaced by an apologetic smile, his arms outstretched as if he’s holding himself open for you to review and decide upon. You glance at the clock on the wall, fifteen minutes to closing but the foot traffic outside on the street has trickled down to nothing, everyone is on their way home to enjoy the last of the warm sunshine. It won’t be the end of the world if you close up a few minutes early today. And this man does intrigue you, with his accent and his strange clothes.

“Ok, fine,” you say, “An hour, but I have no wine glasses.”

“My sweet lady of the bakery, I’m sure I will survive without glasses, as long as I have your company to keep me distracted,” he winks at you and his demeanor changes back into confidence once again as you wave him behind the counter.

“C’mon then, we can sit out back, but only on the stairs I’m afraid.”

“I have sat on much worse in my days, I assure you,” he chuckles, “even a prince of Dorne can’t expect to sit only on feather pillows every hour of his life.”

“You’re a prince?” you ask but it really doesn’t surprise you. He looks every bit like a prince from some exotic country you’ve never heard of.

“Prince Oberyn Martell, my lady,” he says, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it, “It is my pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’m sure,” you smirk, his over the top chivalry is making your inner rebel come out, and you gladly direct him to the somewhat crumbling back stairs, fishing a bottle opener out of a drawer on the way. Drinking wine from the bottle on the back stairs, overlooking the trash cans and patchy grass that lines the dingy alley behind your bakery, is probably not something a prince usually does.

Oberyn is looking around the area outside the door as you bring the bottle opener and the biscotti.

“Wait a moment,” he says, holding up his hand to you before he unbuckles the belt that’s holding his robe together, and dropping it on the ground. He shrugs out of the robe and shakes it out, spreading the luxurious looking fabric out over the steps and then holding out his hand for you.

“Please, my lady,” he says, “it will be a little bit more comfortable for you than sitting on the cold stone.”

“No, but your robe, it’ll be ruined,” you protest, but he shakes his head, “It’s nothing, just a little dust. Do not think me such a feeble prince that I am above getting a little bit dirty.” With his last word he winks at you with a smile, and you can’t help but smile back, taking his hand.

“I don’t know what kind of prince you are, I’ve never even heard of Dorne.”

He lets go of your hand as you settle on the top step and he sits himself on the one below, taking the bottle opener from you.

“Dorne is a beautiful country, warm, much warmer than here, surrounded by turquoise blue ocean, white beaches and fragrant lemon groves,” he says, “And my home, the city of Sunspear, is the world’s most beautiful city, colorful, richly decorated, cooled from the hot sun by our water gardens and palm trees. It is ruled by my brother, the king. I am my father’s second son, fortunately enough for me, for I would’ve made a terrible king.”

He smiles as he speaks of his home, a warm smile, as he pulls the cork from the wine bottle.

“Ladies first,” he says and holds the bottle out to you, you accept it, taking a sip of the cool white wine. It really is delicious; crisp, fresh and an undertone of a rich, buttery flavor.

“This is very nice wine,” you say, giving the bottle back to him and he smiles.

“Made all that much better by the company.”

“Cheesy, but I appreciate the effort,” you grin and he looks confused, lowering the bottle that he was just about to drink from. “Cheesy?” he asks, his eyebrow raised in question.

“Yeah, you know, ‘cheesy’, when something is lame, or over the top, corny?”

“I assure you, my lady, I did not intend to be over the top with my compliment, if anything, it was not enough,” he smiles warmly at you, and you feel butterflies in the pit of your belly. Either the wine is working very fast, or this strange man and his flirtatious way is getting to you.

“I could say so much more about your beauty and the joy it is to spend a warm summer evening in your company with good wine and delicious cakes,” Oberyn’s eyes are glinting as he watches you squirm and he takes a sip from the bottle.

You feel your cheeks heat up and you drop your eyes to your hands, suddenly feeling very flustered by his flattery, distracting yourself by picking at some dry dough caught on your nail.

“Oh, the biscuits!” he exclaims suddenly and stands up, “We need just a…” he disappears into the kitchen and you look up as he turns around, scanning the shelves before he finds what he’s looking for, “Ah! Just what we need!” he says and returns to the steps, sinking down next to you again with a small bowl in his hand. “The biscuits are to be dipped in the wine, to soak up its delicious flavor and blend with the sweetness.”

He demonstrates by pouring some of the wine into the bowl and taking the bag of biscuits from you, opening it up. He takes one of the biscotti and dips the end in the wine, letting it sit for a few seconds before taking a bite.

His eyes hold yours as he slowly chews the biscotti, humming slightly under his breath. “My sweet lady, this is exquisite,” he says, awe in his voice once he’s swallowed. “I would hire you as my own personal baker any day, would you wish to leave these premises.”

“Thank you for the offer, that’s very generous,” you say, taking one of the biscuits and dipping it in the wine, copying Oberyn, “but I like running my own business.”

As you bite into the biscotti you hold back a moan, you’ve never tried this before but now you understand why he insisted, the crunchy biscotti has softened slightly and been filled with the crips flavors of the wine, the lemon and almond adding to the complexity.

“This is really good, Oberyn,” you smile, taking the second half, “Thank you for introducing me to it.”

“It was all my pleasure, my lady,” he replies, leaning back against the stairs and taking a sip of the wine from the bottle. When he tilts his head back, his long neck is exposed, even more now when he’s only wearing his shirt, a smattering of freckles on his tanned skin, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. It occurs to you that the man exudes confidence in everything he does, even the way he brings the bottle back down, handing it to you with a small, crooked smile, the way he’s leaning on one elbow against the step just above him, long legs stretched out comfortably in his soft looking leather boots, utterly relaxed even on the crumbling back stairs.

You take the bottle from him and take another sip, the cool wine slipping down far too easily. From the corner of your eye you see Oberyn take another biscotti and dip it into the wine, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. With a small smirk he puts the biscuit in his mouth, closing his soft looking lips around it, sucking lightly while he lets his eyes linger on you. You feel heat creep up your throat, there is such promise in his eyes, such a challenge in his flirting. It’s like he’s daring you to flirt back, to push him just a little to see how he reacts. You feel a familiar heat spread through your core, a temptation to entice him. But his confidence, just the way he takes the bottle from your hand, his long fingers caressing yours with intent, almost intimidates you. If you flirt with him, even just a little bit, you think he might challenge you even more, see how far you’re willing to go, and you’re not sure you can trust your body to resist. His easy assertiveness, the way he leans back against the stairs, his hand now resting just an inch from your waist, it both unnerves you and makes arousal thrum under your skin.

With a slight tremble to your hand, you take the bottle again and take another sip, bigger this time and it goes down the wrong way, your nerves getting the better of you. With a cough you splutter into the crook of your elbow, your eyes watering. The prince shoots up and immediately puts his hand on your back, patting you lightly a few times before he begins to rub circles between your shoulder blades.

“Careful there, my lady, are you all right?” His eyebrows have pulled together in concern and he leans forward, looking at your face. You feel the tears that formed spill over and roll down your cheeks as you cough a few more times.

“Y-yes, yes, I-I think so, thank you,” you finally say with a croaky voice, “it just went down the wrong way.”

Taking a deep breath, you almost choke again when Oberyn gently cups your face with his large hands and wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, softly running them under your eyes.

“Can I fetch you some water?” he asks, his voice low and concerned, but you shake your head.

“No, thank you, I’m ok now,” you say, taking a steadying breath. He’s so very close now, looking into your eyes with a soft smile and you notice how one of his eyes is made amber by the evening sunlight, the other dark chocolate brown, half hidden in shadow. You feel like your brain is spinning in place, wheels turning but not moving forward, as you’re unable to tear your eyes away from his intense gaze. His hands are still on your cheeks, warm and soft even though you can feel the rough calluses on his palms.

His eyes finally leave yours, only to very slowly move down to your lips, holding his gaze there for several seconds before he looks back up again. His face transforms into a more roguish smile and he drops his hands from your face, moving to pick up another biscotti and dipping it into the wine.

“My lady, please,” he says, holding it up to you, one hand cupped under it to catch any drops of wine, as he offers it to you, holding it by your lips.

You don’t know why, but you obediently open your mouth, letting him feed you the biscotti, tasting the tang of the wine and the sweetness of the sugar as you break it off in the middle. The tip of Oberyn’s tongue comes out to wet his lips as he watches you swallow it down, and then he dips the second half in the wine again, and places it between his own lips. All the while his eyes never leave yours.

The corner of his mouth pulls up in a crooked smile, and he leans back against the door frame, crossing his arms over his lap.

“I would kiss you, if you asked me too,” he says, matter of factly, “if you want me too.”

You reach for the wine bottle to distract yourself while you calm your beating heart, keeping your eyes on him, that smirk still lingering on his lips as he watches you take a small, controlled sip, this time.

You pour some more wine into the bowl and place the bottle on the top step, reaching for another biscotti and making up your mind. Dipping the delicate biscuit in the wine you look up at Oberyn, holding his gaze while you bring it up to his mouth, mimicking his gesture of cupping your hand under it. A wicked smile flickers across his face as he obediently opens his mouth and takes the biscotti. But he doesn’t bite it in half, instead he leans forward and closes his lips around your fingertips, his tongue licking at them as he takes the whole thing into his mouth. It’s warm and wet around your fingers and he gently sucks on them as he pulls back, a low hum escaping his throat. The touch of his tongue shoots a jolt of electricity through your body, settling firmly between your legs and your breath hitches.

Oberyn swallows the biscuit and takes your hand, bringing it to his mouth again, with his eyes locked on yours he takes each finger between his lips and sucks them clean. When your pinky leaves his lips he moves forward, taking your chin between his thumb and finger, holding you steady, your heart beating its own erratic rhythm in your chest.

“I would kiss you, if you asked me too,” he repeats, looking from your eyes to your lips and up again.

You don’t trust your voice, so instead you inhale, his warm scent; oranges, cinnamon, sandalwood, filling your nose, and you lean forward. He doesn’t smile this time, instead he mirrors your movement until your lips brush, your heads tilting ever so slightly to come closer together, mouths angeling as he presses a soft, gentle, explorative kiss to your tingling lips. Warm hands slip up your neck, into your hair, large enough to cup the back of your head as his thumbs stroke your cheeks.

His next kiss is more insistent, his lips parting to taste with the tip of his soft tongue, licking the seam of your mouth. Your body seems to have lost all will to follow your head, it just moves as he moves you, pulling you closer to his lips, opening up to his tongue, letting him slip inside and explore, tangelling together as he tangles his hands in your hair, making you lean closer into him. Without knowing how you got there, you find yourself sitting on his lap, his hand finding your thigh and pulling your leg over. When he puts his hands on your hips and slides your body closer to his, your mind goes blank and you moan into his mouth. He’s distinctly hard underneath you, the thin fabric of his trousers doing nothing to hide the firm length of his cock, and he groans with delight as you roll your hips over him.

“Sweet thing,” he whispers, his lips momentarily leaving yours, “sweet, sweet lady, I knew your kisses would be as sweet as your cakes.” His fingers dig into your hips, his mouth pressing firmer against yours as he sucks on the tip of your tongue, pulling back just a fraction and trailing kisses and bites over your jaw, down your throat, pushing back your t-shirt to suck a mark into your collar bone, making you keen and whimper under his warm mouth.

“I wonder if you’re as sweet everywhere,” he mumbles, fingers digging into your hips and dragging you over his heavy length, straining against his trousers, “I would very much like to find out.”

You lean your head back, exposing your throat to him as he continues to kiss and lick the soft skin of your neck, heat is building rapidly in your body and for a second you feel as if you’re looking down on yourself from above. Straddling the handsome prince on the stairs, sitting on his golden yellow robe, his face buried against your neck, his hands rolling your hips over his erection as you pant to the darkening sky above. With a groan you put your hands on his shoulders and push away, stumbling back onto your feet.

“You’re dangerous to be around, Oberyn,” you pant as his hands slip away from your hips. His mouth hangs open as he reaches for you. In the dimming light you can see the prominent bulge of his trousers, it makes your mouth water, the image of sliding down over it coming unbidden to your mind.

“It’s just pleasure,” he says, his voice dark and mischievous, “no guilt to be had over feeling pleasure.”

“No, but I’m not about to have sex with a stranger on the back steps of my bakery,” you say, taking a deep breath, running your hands over your head, down your face, to ground yourself again.

“Well, then the question beckons to be asked,” Oberyn grins, “where would you have sex with a stranger?”

“I don’t have sex with strangers,” you say, shaking your head and quickly stepping past him, into the kitchen again. Behind you, you hear him get up and pick up the bottle, the remaining biscuits and the bowl. Placing them on the counter inside the door he follows you out to the shop as he slips his robe back on, where you unlock the door and wait for him to approach. A big part of you doesn't want him to leave, but you know that if you let him stay, he’ll have you naked on one of the counters within minutes, your body will betray you and let him do whatever he wants.

“If you let me, I would like to not be a stranger to you,” Oberyn says as he reaches you by the door, “Would you let me come back and take you out, maybe show you Sunspear, my city?”

“Show me the life of a prince?” you ask, you doubt you’ll see him again once he leaves, “Sure, come back and show me another side of yourself, and I’ll consider whether or not I want you to be a stranger.”

“You don’t think I’ll come back,” he replies, a crooked smile on his lips, “have I made such a flighty impression on you, such a poor representation of who I am?” He chuckles, taking your hand and bowing low, pressing a feather light kiss to it.

“I promise, my sweet lady of the bakery, I will come back and I will show you the true colors of a prince of Dorne. Until then I will keep your honeyed kisses close in my memory.”

He opens the front door and steps through it, before turning and smiling back at you, “And I’ll keep your delicious moans even closer on lonely nights.”

You feel heat rise in your cheeks again as he winks, a mischievous smirk on his face, before he bow lows again and disappears down the street.

Part Five

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn x you #game of thrones #a bakers dozen #pedrostories

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love-takes-work · 8 months

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Teabag Cookies

Amethyst routinely eats used teabags. This is not good for humans, but if you wanna be like her, how about making your own edible teabags (well, as chocolate-dipped shortbread cookies)? Read on. . . .

See more SU food tutorials!

Ingredients:

1 teaspoon tea, any flavor you like

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup unsalted butter, softened

½ cup fine granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

¼ teaspoon salt

6 ounces semi-sweet chocolate pieces (to be melted)

Directions:

Use a stand mixer or hand mixer to whip the butter on medium speed until it is fluffy; it will take about 3 minutes. You can use a spatula to scrape down the sides of the bowl.

In a little dish, stir together the tea and sugar. (Variation idea: If you want to make different flavors with different tea, you can half the ingredients and make separate batches.)

Whip the sugar mixture into the butter mixture, and once it's fully incorporated, add the vanilla extract.

Then add in the flour and salt. You will want to turn off the mixer, fold it in with the spatula a bit, and then use a low speed to complete mixing it in. Don't overmix; you want this to be evenly mixed together but no more.

Flatten the dough into a disc. Wrap it up in plastic wrap or a reusable refrigerator wrap, and chill it in the fridge for 1 hour or more.

Once the chilling is complete, prepare a clean floured surface and roll the dough out with a rolling pin to about half a centimeter/a quarter of an inch. Try to get it into a nice rectangle shape.

Using a nice sharp knife that makes clean cuts (or a pizza cutter), cut into nice little rectangles.

Use a spatula to lift the rectangles onto baking sheets lined with baking parchment. Space them with about a centimeter between them.

Then use the knife to chop two ends off each rectangle so they will be shaped like teabags.

Use a straw to punch a nice hole in each--not too close to the top. Make sure each hole goes all the way through.

Chill the cookies in the refrigerator for 15 to 20 minutes. This will help them retain their shape and not let the hole close up too quickly; they will start to harden as they cook in the oven before the butter in them melts if they start cold.

While waiting for the cookies to chill, you can preheat the oven to 340º F / 170º C. When ready to bake, use the middle rack only (do two baking batches). Bake the cookies for 13 to 15 minutes and do not let them get brown--they should remain tan.

Cool on wire racks. Once the cookies are totally cooled, you can dip them. Use a double boiler to melt your chocolate pieces, stirring with a spatula to help combine lumps.

Dip the cookies halfway in to coat them with chocolate, and then put them back on their parchment to settle. You should chill the cookies again to help the chocolate solidify.

Now, for the strings (which really make the effect!), if you are already a tea-drinker you can save up tea strings and tags from other teabags you've used. This is especially cool if you are varying the flavors of the tea in the cookies and you can include matching tags. . . .

But if you don't drink tea, don't want to wait to collect tea strings, or just want to make your own, you can use dental floss for the strings and folded-over address labels as tags.

If you are serving these at a little tea party or at a gathering, you can always decorate these tags with names, symbols, stickers, or messages!

When you're ready to put it all together, just loop each string through the cookie holes and tie them.

It's pretty much required that you serve them on adorable dishware with dainty cups, right? They are perfect for dunking in tea!

Or you could just unceremoniously chomp them down, like a certain Gem we know!

See more SU food tutorials!

#steven universe #food #amethyst #onion friend #three gems and a baby #tiger philanthropist #myblog #gif

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horseshoemybeloved · 10 months

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if patrick had to be baked into a cookie, what kinda cookie would he be,,,,, i think one of those double chocolate chocolate chip cookies that are fresh outta the oven and all nice

Okay fob cookie…

Pete is a honey oatmeal cookie 100% no debate. They’re so nostalgic to me, and I feel like Pete is a big nostalgia head. Also Pete has a very warm vibe to me and usually honey oatmeal has cinnamon which is a warm cozy spice.

Joe I’m getting like meringue cookies. I like oddly get a very,,,,, elegant??? Vibe from Joe ig??? Idk how to explain it I think it’s the curly hair. but yah I’m thinking one of those two. Some sorts of interesting flavor combo meringue cookie like idk lemon lavender. Or cucumber mint. Key lime. A nice crisp and light and almost refreshing cookie.

Andy,,,, idk why I’m gettin peanut butter cookie…. Solid. Stable. Structured. High protein. A little playful and child like. Maybe it is shaped like skulls or hello kitty…. I think it’s cus Andy is so disciplined with his lifestyle and all that that peanut butter cookie just seems to fit idk.

Patrick. Like an orange shortbread swirl/pinwheel. It’s a practical base ( shortbread ) ( he’s a Taurus ) but you got something a little interesting swirled in ( literally ) ( he’s got a little white boy zazz to him little pep in his step on stage ) but yeah not 2 be an astrology girlie but Patrick is SUCH a Taurus, a good solid friend, very stable and solid, a bit stubborn at times, deep appreciation for the senses ( he makes music,,, so like the sense of sound and also he has synesthesia) and idk Taurus gives me shortbread vibes ( and shortbread cus he’s SHORT!!!! HA GOTTEM!!!! )

#cookie vibes #fob as then annoyin little cookie people #the ones the gatcha life and genshin imapact players like #idk their names #I love assessing their vibes #as someone who has never met them and doesn’t know them on a personal level at all lol #anon

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twostepstyless · 1 year

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Better Than a What?

Fic Advent Calendar: Day 1

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SFW

Authors Note: Door number 1 is officially open and what a better place to start than with Harry desperately trying to get ahold of something to keep up the tradition. Likes, reblogs and feedback in any form is welcome and always appreciated, my loves x

Word Count: 4.3k

***

“Ray, she’s going to be so sad, I can’t look her in the eye and let her down like this,” Harry stressed to his driver from the back seat of the car as he knuckled sleep from his eyes. It was early, too early for that matter and Harry had just landed back in London after a long and uncomfortable flight back from the U.S. He was supposed to be back a few days ago but a then a storm in the U.K that caused cancelled flights then the mass rebooking of flights caused Harry’s travel itinerary to be thrown up in the air. As the nights passed and the days trickled closer to the 1st of December, flights were getting busier and filling faster as people began to make journeys home and away for the festivities or for some winter sunshine. Harry just wanted to get home. God, he’d bloody missed her and the few unexpected additional days that he didn’t have planned into his countdown to get back to her was driving him a little stir crazy.

“If it’s the Y/N I know, she’ll just be happy to see you, she’ll get over it, Harry,” Ray, his driver, tried to console a stressed-out Harry as his eyes flicked up to see him in the back seat pinching his lower lip while frantically scrolling his phone.

“I jus’ wanted it to be perfect and I’ve already made an arse of it,” Harry muttered as he felt Ray shift down the gears, slowing down to take a right turn into a car park. The car park was, unsurprisingly, empty, given that it was 6:04 A.M on a Thursday morning. Harry looked up at the screen in the car as Ray pulled into a spot near the door, seeing the bold 1st of December date that was haunting him and the temperature that was sat at a frigid -1° Celsius. He unclipped his seatbelt and bolted from the car, pulling his beanie down and the hood of his jacket up to protect him from the bitter wind chill. He had to catch himself as his foot slipped on the edge of a frozen over puddle as he double timed it across the car park, the last thing he needed was to rock up at home not only empty handed but with scraped and bloody palms from an embarrassing fall in a car park. The bright lights were leading him toward the building much like the star to the baby Jesus Harry thought, but he was more hoping his fluorescent guiding star would take him not to a stable but to a cardboard sleeve with 25 perforated doors stamped on the front.

***

‘This year Tesco have created the Christmas Party-’ blared over the PA system as Harry entered the store that opened minutes earlier in haste as he flinched at the loud noise. He paced the aisles looking for their Christmas sweets and bolted down aisle 4 when the first glimpse of a selection box and a Terry’s Chocolate Orange came into view. His eyes flitted over the shelves, but he was in so much of a blind rush he wasn’t really processing any of it. There was a tired looking member of staff filling up the red tartan packages of shortbread just next to him who, fingers crossed, would be his angel Gabriel as he approached them.

“Scuse me, good mornin’, I know this is mental today of all days but, advent calendars?” Harry tailed off his question as the staff member jumped having not seen anyone enter the aisle alongside her.

“Oh, um you’ll be lucky if we do, if you just follow me down here," the colleague wandered further down the long aisle, pausing near the bottom, “looks like just the dairy and gluten free ones and Reese’s left,” they pointed out the products to Harry.

“She’s allergic to nuts,” Harry sighed, stumped as to what to try next, as the staff member gave him a sorrowful smile, “my Missus is going to kill me,” Harry laughed quietly as Sandra, Harry has finally caught site of their name badge, let out a soft breath of laughter hoping to ease Harry’s mind.

“I’m sure she won’t, m’love,” the sweet, older lady pat his arm, “but, between me and you, I’ve heard the corner shop 15 minutes down the road from here are overrun with advent calendars,” she gave him a sly wink and a soft smile.

“Y’absolute diamond,” Harry all but cheered but being the only customer in the shop thought he’d better reign it in. “I’d kiss you, but I can’t, then she’d definitely kill me, thank you s’much,” Harry joked before smiling gratefully before speed walking toward the exit, hoping this time he’ll miss the frozen puddle as he sprinted across the empty lot.

***

He threw himself in the back of the car again, fastening his seatbelt as Ray piped up from the front seat again, “petrol station was a no, that’s Sainsbury’s and Tesco both a bust, where to next boss? I don’t think there’s an Asda round here,” Ray pondered, “and I think Y/N would be more offended with a posh Waitrose one than not getting one at all,” he let out a snort. The version of Y/N that Ray had become acquainted with was a woman of simple pleasures and a 10 quid advent calendar out of Waitrose was certainly not a simple pleasure to her, or at all necessary for that matter and Harry knew he was right. He distinctly remembers them being in a Waitrose two Christmases ago and hearing her mutter something along the lines of, “fucking Tory chocolate, imagine making an upper-class advent calendar, what’s wrong with the one quid Cadbury’s one?”

“Corner shop,” Harry gasped out catching his breath, he had actually sprinted across the car park the second he exited the shop and yes for your information, he did miss slipping on the puddle this time. “The corner shop closest to the house, f’you don’t mind Ray,” Harry directed, feeling a bit more confident, this little hole in the wall shop near their house has everything and little, old Ernie who ran it, has yet to let them down.

***

Harry was back out the car and entering the minuscule shop 15 minutes later, the bell over the door twinkling as the door passed over it. The shop was warm, it always was, Ernie had two plug-in, oil-filled radiators burning in that shop year-round. He had decorated for the holiday season, bits of tinsel taped round the bottoms of the shelves and some foil decorations straight from the 80s hanging from the ceiling. Ernie peering up from behind the glass cabinet he kept the pick’n’mix sweets in, his ancient cash register sat atop it that he refused to replace because “if it isn’t broken don’t fix it,” he reassured. He was clad, as always, in his brown overcoat, reminiscent of an old greengrocer’s, his thick-rimmed glasses with lenses even thicker so they made his eyes appear bigger than they were and of course, his signature tweed flat cap.

“Mr Styles,” the elderly gentleman proclaimed, his weathered hands clapping together as he spotted Harry entering the shop. “Long time no see, been away again, m’boy?” Ernie adored Harry as if he was one of his own, his oldest grandchild was a similar age to Harry and since they lived so far away as soon as Harry started appearing in Ernie’s shop, when he moved into the area when he was 18, Ernie had all but taken Harry under his wing and would always be a kind face to Harry if he needed it.

“Ern! It’s Harry and you know it,” Harry gave him a faux glare before propping himself up on the glass cabinet in front of Ernie. “Yep, jus’ back and how lucky are you that you are the first face I’ve seen,” Harry bat his eyelashes with a bright smile on his face before pinching a sour cherry sweet from the pick’n’mix tubs Ernie was stocking up for the day ahead.

“Not even that lovely girlfriend of yours?” Ernie asked, swatting Harry’s hand away from the sweets. “She’s popped in every day since you’ve been gone, you’re punching well above your weight with Miss Y/N, lad,” Ernie jested.

“And since when did Miss Y/N become y’favourite?” Harry gulped down the sour candy.

“She’s everyone’s favourite, is she not?” Ernie shrugged.

“I’ll jus’ send your Christmas present back then, will I?” Harry quirked an eyebrow up before relenting, “I suppose I can’t argue with that one, speaking of Y/N, she’s the reason I’m seeing your face before hers this cold and frosty morning,” Harry smiled sheepishly.

“Knew it, what do you need, Harry m’boy?”

“I need to get her an advent calendar,” he said shyly, “I know, I know it’s the 1st today and I’d usually have it by now, but I’ve been away and everywhere is already sold out,” Harry quickly justified, “and a little birdy told me you were the man to save me from the guilt of causing Y/N’s sad face.”

“I did have a lot left yesterday morning, but they flew out the door all afternoon and last night,” Ernie started, as Harry’s shoulders dropped, what the hell was he going to do.

“S’alright Ernie, I’ll figure something out,” he said sadly, mentally preparing to try every shop in the vicinity before going home to her.

“Here you, you didn’t let me finish,” Ern snapped Harry out his daze of trying to work out the closest shop to try next, knowing he was going to have to organise getting Ray paid overtime or some form of bonus for putting up with this, this morning. Harry quickly looked up at Ernie, seeing a glint of playfulness in the old man’s eye. “I was going to say, they were flying off the shelves all day yesterday and was down to my last few when I realised, I hadn’t seen you around,” Ernie turned his back on Harry and shuffled into the back room that was hidden away behind a beaded curtain that rattled and clicked as the beads bounced off each other when you passed through it. “An I jus’ thought to m’self, I bet young Styles will come calling at one point,” he called through from the back room, “so here we are,” Ernie came back with two distinctive purple rectangles that housed a Cadbury’s advent calendar in each. There it was, Harry’s version of baby Jesus, wrapped in carboard, and the corner shop was his stable. Did that make Ernie the virgin Mary then? Wait not important right now.

“Ernie, y’bloody… y’bloody angel,” Harry’s eyes lit up as Ernie shuffled back up to his place behind the till.

“What can I say? We aim to please,” Ernie was bashful at Harry’s compliment as Ernie tried to hand over the two advent calendars.

“Jus’ the one, Ern, keep that one for yourself, how much do I owe you?” Harry fished through his pocket for his wallet.

“M’wife’s had our advent calendars in the house since mid-November, she’s organised,” Ernie said pointedly.

“Oi,” Harry objected.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve been away working. Keep it though, it’s yours,” Ernie smiled shoving the two calendars into Harry’s grip.

“M’trying to lay off sweets,” Harry let out, still in disbelief he managed to get his hands on them.

“Harry, you’ve stood there and ate a 10 pence mix-up worth of sour cherries since you’ve been in here,” Ernie and Harry looked down at the tub the offending candy lay in, and sure enough there was a dent in the pile shaped like Harry’s fingers. Oops.

“Well, how much do I owe you?” Harry asked again.

“Nope, a Christmas present for my two favourite customers,” Ernie shoved his hands in his pockets so he couldn’t accept any cash off the young man.

“Oh, give over, Ern, how muc-” Harry was cut off.

“No, Harry, now I’m going in that back room until you leave, I don’t want your money, jus’ don’t make my Y/N sad, alrigh’?” Ernie began his scuffle back into his back room.

“Your Y/N?” Harry called after him.

“Yeah, my Y/N, now get home to her before she wakes up without you,” Ernie stuck his head back out the beaded curtain to tell Harry off quickly before disappearing again. Harry hummed a quiet laugh, gripping onto the advent calendars under his arm.

“I’ll be back with your Christmas present at one point, Ern,” Harry called into the empty shop as he made his exit, knowing Ernie was listening for the twinkling bell that announced Harry’s leave, sounding out into the warm shop that was now, officially, sold out of advent calendars. Much to Ernie’s dismay, Harry had stuck a £10 note under the corner of one of the pick’n’mix tubs, that should cover the advent calendars. And the sour cherries.

***

It was 6.30am now, and Ray had just dropped Harry off at the house, sliding his key quietly in the lock as to not disturb the serene quiet that was cast over the house in the early morning. It was still dark out, and Y/N was expecting him back today so had left the porch light and the ceiling light of their entryway on for his return. Harry slipped inside the house leaving his bags by the door, he’ll deal with them in a while, after some time spent with his love. He kept the precious cargo of the advent calendars in his clutches. As he stood, he heard the rhythm of clip-clopping feet across the floors. Or should he say, the rhythmic clip-clopping of paws round the corner to greet him at speed.

“Hi Vince, m’boy,” Harry reached down, after depositing the advent calendars on their entry table, cooing softly before giving the golden retriever plenty of scratches behind his ear where he liked it, all while Vince tried to lick at whatever patch of Harry he could reach. All while his furry bum wiggled in excitement. Harry got down onto his knees to hug the dog closer to him, “you’re getting chunky, mummy’s been feeding you extra good since I’ve been gone again, eh?” Harry squeezed as Vince’s sides, there was definitely an extra layer of squish there that wasn’t before he left, if Y/N heard him commenting in it, he’d for sure get a row saying he was fat-shaming the dog and, ‘he’s just fluffy, Harry, leave him alone, look you’ve upset him now,’ when Vince was most definitely not upset as he basked in the extra attention from his parents.

“I think me n’you will be going for a run tomorrow morning, hmm?” Harry clutched Vince’s head behind his floppy ears as Vince began to grumble, the tell-tale noise he always made before barking. “Hey, hey, hey, Vincent,” Harry chastised, using the dog’s Sunday name, the golden retriever named after Y/N’s favourite painter. “No barking, you’ll wake Mum and I’m trying m’best to stay on her good side, yeah? Back to bed for a little while mate, an’ I’ll make you scrambled egg for your breakfast.” Vince seemed happy enough with that, nuzzled into Harry’s head for a second before giving him a sly lick along his cheek before trotting back to his bed in the living room. Harry got back to his feet, finally shedding his jacket, and kicking his shoes from his feet, the shoes left in a heap by the door and the jacket bundled into a ball on the entry table where he swapped it out for the advent calendars.

He crept quietly upstairs, hoping his entrance and early morning meeting with Vince hadn’t disturbed his sleeping girlfriend. Along the hall, he saw the door to their bedroom opened a crack, just enough for Vince to push open if he wanted to come up for a cuddle, or more likely, Y/N called for the dog to come up because she wanted a cuddle. Harry pushed the door open softly, the hinge of the door giving the faintest squeak as it gave way. What a site, there she was. His Y/N cocooned in duvet, blankets, and pillows, lying on her stomach, head turned to the side, her face was pressed into what was usually Harry’s pillow, hair in some sort of pile on top of her head, curled tendrils and frizzy wisps of hair escaping it and framing her beautifully squished face. She was out for the count, as Harry smiled at her sleepy form. His feet carried him across to their bed in a daze, as he sat on the edge of the bed, his free hand coming up to rub the furrow from her brow and hold her face in the palm of his hand, the difference in temperature between her skin and Harry’s hand stirring her from her deep sleep, her hand coming up to slap whatever was disturbing her off her face only to be met with the back of Harry’s hand as she gripped it quickly.

Squinting one eye open, “Har?” she croaked out, keeping her hand on top of his as his thumb brushed the high point of her cheek.

“Mhm, good mornin, love,” he smiled down at her.

“You’re back,” she sighed, her hand removing his from her face, tangling their fingers together, “you’re cold,” she stated.

“S’minus 1 outside,” he confirmed as Y/N pouted before wriggling backwards in their bed and opening the duvet to him, eyes still partially scrunched closed.

“In please, don’t like you cold,” patting blindly on the space in bed next to her she wanted him to crawl into.

Harry left the advent calendars on the bedside table before laying down with her as she flopped the duvet back over the pair of them as Harry brought her over to cuddle up to him, her eyes fluttering closed as her face found the crook of his neck. “Thought you always liked me, hm?” he teased lightly, thrilled to have her back in his arms.

“I do, I love you all the time, but I don’t like you being cold,” she explained, lips pushing against his neck in a kiss, he’d lay one on her good and proper when she came round from being asleep a bit more. “Fligh-,” she cut herself off with a yawn, “flight good?” she asked.

“Was as good as it can be for a 10-hour flight, slept a tonne,” Harry’s hand ran laps up and down her back as her own hand found purchase on Harry’s midsection, nails scratching his stomach over his clothes.

She hummed in response, letting a silence fall over the pair, if you listened closely, you could hear Vince padding around downstairs, playing with one of his toys, clearly not loving the idea of going back to bed when he had the promise of scrambled eggs for breakfast on the brain but leaving his parents to it, he’d get his food when they came down. “What did y’put on the bedside table?” she questioned after remembering hearing him set something down.

“Ah yes,” Harry reached over grabbing the offending objects that just looked like two purple blobs to Y/N without her glasses or contact lenses as she reached blindly behind her for the frames on her own bedside table before popping them on her face and blinking herself awake. “Oh, there she is,” Harry smiled fondly at her, finally seeing her eyes wide open, looking more herself now.

“You remembered,” Y/N pouted as Harry handed over her advent calendar as he put his own back on the table. The tradition had started when Y/N had first moved out of her parents into a place of her own, her and Harry were relatively new at that point and didn’t expect anything when she told him.

“D’you know what she said to me, she goes, ‘your too old for me to be buying your advent calendar now, Y/N, plus you live 4 hours away from us, what do you want me to do? Pop by after the food shop?’ my own bloody mother. I bet you any money she buys my brother one because he only lives a few streets over.”

So, Harry showed up at her front door, early, on the 1st of December that year with a Cadbury’s advent calendar he had paid a quid for (thank you very much Tesco Clubcard for the money off) and so began the tradition of getting Y/N’s advent calendar for her every year.

“’Course I remembered, had that organised for ages for me coming back, m’heart,” Harry lied through his teeth while acting as nonchalant as possible.

“You went and got it this morning, didn’t you?” Y/N saw right through him every damn time.

“Landed an hour earlier than I told you I would, had to go to four shops,” he smiled sheepishly.

“Knew it, liar,” she lay the calendar on the duvet before she pinched his side and kissing him on the cheek.

“Ernie saved my arse in the end,” Harry admitted.

“Good ol’ Ernie, eh? H, y’know I wouldn’t have really been angry if you didn’t get me an advent calendar, right? Would’ve played it up a bit obviously because God knows I like the attention, but I never would’ve actually been upset with you, I’m not that much of a cow,” she said seriously.

“No, no I know, but it’s tradition now innit, I would’ve been way more upset with m’self if I didn’t manage to get it, so get it opened, sweetness,” he pushed the calendar back into her grip.

“Open yours too then, Ernie must have had loads left if you got yourself one too,” she waited for Harry to grab his.

“No actually, last two left, tried to tell him to keep it for himself but he insisted, told me he had his already,” they both searched their calendars for the elusive number 1.

“Oh, yeah his wife told me she sorted the two of them with calendars weeks ago... fuck me, have you found it yet?” Y/N complained, thinking she had found it in the middle but was disappointed when she saw it was door 11 instead.

“Oh! There it is, bottom right next to the 17, how do you know Ernie’s wife?” Harry looked at her incredulously before having to point out door number 1 when Y/N still couldn’t find it.

“Ernie’s wife?” Y/N dug her thumb into the perforated cardboard to pop the door open. “Oh, Sandra, yeah, she works in the-”

“Tesco down the road,” they said at the same time.

“How do you know that?” Y/N questioned him as she tore open the foil covering of the chocolate hidden below.

“Long story,” Harry laughed before popping his own chocolate out and laying it flat on his hand, “c’mon then, what did y’get?”

“Little chocolate stocking? Is that meant to be a stocking or is it a sleigh?” she squinted at the sweet as Harry peered over at her hand and was just as stumped.

“M’sure it’ll taste the same either way. I’ve got a much more distinguishable snowman,” he held up the chocolate in her before tossing it in his open mouth as Y/N did the same. “Jesus,” he moaned, “you forget how good that Cadbury’s chocolate is.”

“Mhmm,” Y/N moaned letting it melt on her tongue, “that’s better than an orgasm.”

“Oi, get all the way to fuck with that one,” Harry laughed, taking the two advent calendars, and returning them to the bedside table before rolling over to hover over the top of Y/N. “’Better than an orgasm’ my bloody arse, it is,” he tickled her sides as she shrieked in laughter trying to kick free of the duvet and blankets, she was bundled in and out of Harry’s grasp.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!!” Y/N squealed trying to grip Harry’s hands to get them away from her body.

He relented as she gasped for air, “that’s what I thought, pretty girl, now gimme a kiss, I’m long overdue,” as Harry sank some of his bodyweight against her, holding himself up by his forearms as Y/N strained her neck up to meet his lips with her own. Their lips moving together in synchronicity, Harry sucked gently on her bottom lip before his tongue met hers briefly before they broke away with a short peck. “Mm tastes like dairy milk,” Harry laughed, swiping his thumb over her bottom lip removing the remnants of their kiss and a little chocolate.

“I mean it is sometimes better than an orgasm,” Y/N said bravely before she leapt from their bed before Harry could catch her.

“That’s it, lovie,” Harry said chasing after her round their bedroom. They heard Vince start barking from downstairs once he overheard all the hilarity and as Y/N began to make haste for the bedroom door to go appease Vince, Harry caught her from behind, wrapping his arms around her middle. “I promised I’d make him scrambled eggs for breakfast, but the second we’re done, me n’you are coming straight back up here and I’ll show you how much better an orgasm can be, yeah?” Harry pressed as a kiss to her cheek as he slipped past her out their bedroom, calling out to Vince that he was coming and if he didn’t hush up the eggs were out of the question. Y/N stood trying to catch her breath, noticing that Harry had taken their advent calendars with him to sit on top of their mantlepiece for the next 24 days.

***

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Full Masterlist

#harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #Harry styles one shot #Harry imagine #Harry styles #harry styles oneshot #one direction fanfiction #one direction #harry styles christmas #twostepstyless advent calendar

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thebarontheabyss · 6 months

Note

Hey, do you like baseball? Cause I’m coming entirely outfield to wish you a good day (or night). Good work truly. I respect the effort and process you’ve done.

Here’s a penny for your thoughts and if you want something to snack on. Cookies. What are the ROs favorite cookies?

COOKIE TIME!!! 🍪🍪🍪 Death favors something classic and comforting: a homemade chocolate chip cookie. It's a familiar, universally loved treat that speaks to their desire for simplicity. Lilith/Damien would likely prefer something rich and decadent, like a double chocolate cookie with a hint of chili.

Morgan/Morgana's cookie preference is a lavender shortbread. It’s refined, a bit unusual, and has an air of mystique!

AND JUST BECAUSE I CAN HERE ARE THE REST:

The Raven is more into worms, but if he has to pick a black sesame or charcoal cookie would suffice.

Hastur might prefer something traditional and unassuming, like an oatmeal raisin cookie.

Yaga enjoys something with a bit of tartness, like a lemon crinkle cookie. It's a little bit sour but ultimately sweet, just like her.

Peisinoe would prefer an elegant and visually appealing cookie, like a macaron. It’s not only delicious but also a work of art.

Shelly loves the fun and colorful, like sugar cookies with bright icing or sprinkles.

He Without Name, well, maybe something simple yet profound: a classic shortbread.

Now I want a cookie :(

#choice of games #cog #interactive fiction #choicescript #hosted games #wip #hosted game #fiction #interactive novel #thebarontheabyss #coockies #the bar on the abyss #tbota #anon ask #answered #if #if game #if wip #cog wip

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tokensofmyconfections · 6 months

Text

Hi, my name is Elva and I'm helping my Grandpa run his bakery and sweetshop while my parents work on fixing up the house more.

We are just starting out, so hopefully our shop earns a good reputation for our good food made with the recipes my Grandma gathered in her youth when she went on her Pokémon journey!

Tokens of my Confections menu

Seasonal baked goods

Miltank Cream Cheese Pound Cake (have to specify since some people are allergic to miltank milk and we have to take special orders for versions made with either Bouffalant or Gogoat milk)

Bluk berry and Lavender Cake

Snickerdoodle Cake

Mint Chocolate Cake

Chocolate Marble Nanab Cake

Vertical Nomel Cake

Giant Cinnamon Roll Cake (as big as a maximum size wagon wheel)

Double Chocolate Crinkle Cookies

Molasses Cookies

Maple Syrup and Brown Sugar Cookies

Soft Molasses Cookies

Soft Snickerdoodle Cookies

Neapolitan Cookies

Red Velvet Triple Chocolate Cookies

Applin Shaped Apple Blondies

Nomel Bars with Shortbread Crust

Chocolate Peanut Butter Cheesecake Bars

Guinness Bars (lots of Guinness beers used for this, you will smell the alcohol when you walk into the shop, be warned)

Cream Cheese Kalos Toast Casserole (Grandma’s middle finger to my late great aunt since this was made as a dare when she was 16 years old) (same rules at the Pound Cake)

Apple Cider Donuts

Spudnuts

Twenty Pound Breakfast Casserole (this is a take home dish or a meal you share with friends at the dining room, please don’t take it as a challenge to eat the whole thing by yourself)

Spring Quiche with Chopped Sausage

Drinks

Pomeg Fizz

Mix Berry Punch

Lavender Lemonade (it’s very purple because of the lavender syrup)

Apple Cider (spiced or muled) {apples picked by my grandma with her neighbor’s Appletun, Fritters, help} (only not here during summer)

Chai

Apple Cinnamon tea

Herbal tea blend: Cherry Blossom Cosmo (Bright pink and fun-loving with the taste of cherry and berries.)

Herbal tea blend: Harvest Apple Spice (Orchard-ripe apples and berries infused with warm baking spices)

Herbal tea blend: Vanilla Rose (A medium-bodied white tea with upfront notes of sweet vanilla finishing with floral notes.)

Candy

Peanut Butter Fudge Cups

Homemade Chocolate Eggs

Lopunny Tails

Pidove's Nest Treats

Chocolate Angel Food Candy

Potato Candy (recipe from 1933) (staying)

Black Cheri Swirl Fudge

Bunnelby Treats

Sprinkle Fudge

Nomel Bark

Soft Chewy Caramels

Spritzee Nests

Layered Mint Candies

Delphox Wands (pretzel sticks dipped in fire colored chocolate with translucent colored sprinkles)

Marbled Orange Creamsicle Fudge

Lavender Fudge

Egg-Shaped Cookie Dough Truffles

Homemade Peanut Butter Cups

Sour Candy Drops (using the vintage candy machine molds of Staryu, Finneon, and Tynamo)

Chocolate Bunnery and Bunnelby

Pulled Taffy with Sea Salt (twenty eight flavors)

Pastel Chocolate Mint Patties

Ube Candy

Rose Water Brittle

Honeycomb (harvested from the local Combee farm that’s right next to the apple orchard Fritters the Appltun lives at)

Brigadeiros

Marzipan

Saffron Wepear lollipops

Lollipops (made with the same mixes at the Candy Drops)

Vanilla Fudge

Old Anville cream pull candy

#first post #bakery #sweetshop #pokemon #pokeblogging #pokeblog rp #pokeblr #rotomblr #will be updated per season

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radiokathryn-if · 6 months

Note

I had a cookie today. It was pretty good. So, it led me to this point. What are the ROs favorite type of cookies?

i love cookies! my favourite is white chocolate chip and macadamia nut *chefs kiss*! what kind did you have?

Nate──Crinkle cookies, luxurious rich fudge and powdered sugar... normally you have to wait a while for these cookies but Nate is impatient and wealthy enough to request fresh batches and get them straight away.

Eva──Gingersnaps, but specifically the ones her grandmother used to make during winter! She's a big fan of gingerbread too.

Mica──A new revelation brought upon an obsession with smarties cookies. They're a fiend──they will steal your smarties cookie if you leave it in their sights.

Detective Han──They're not the biggest fan of cookies, of those kinds of treats in general really,

José──Oatmeal Raisin, a controversial take they're sure (and sometimes they'll go to oatmeal chocolate chip rather than raisin) but they're not the most inclined to sweetness.

Ji Han──Snickerdoodles. Cinnamon and sugar cookies!! His elderly neighbour, or rather his mother's neighbour, used to make them every Sunday when he was younger─they bring a nostalgic bliss when he sees them.

Fauve──She loves a good shortbread so butter cookies are a good choice!

Jackson──When he's indulging himself, he loves Viennese Cresent cookies─nutty and sugary. But usually he buys Cilly's favourite which are double chocolate chip cookies.

???──Very simple, quaint sugar cookie. The first real... luxury they're attached too. They enjoy the process of making them too.

#radio kathryn if #all ros #c: nate nicks #c: eva vidal #c: mica hollens #c: detective han #c: josé danger #c: ji han #c: fauve #c: jackson lewis #c: ???

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sonnet-of-anarchy · 8 months

Text

Ghosts at Starbucks!! 🧋

Lady B: English Breakfast Tea brewed with Lemon & a lemon loaf (eaten with a fork she brought from home) 🍰

Captain: English Breakfast tea, splash of milk, also maybe shortbread biscuits. 🫖

Pat: Earl grey, milk, sausage sandwich, egg bites with ham & cheese and a cinnamon swirl 🥮

Kitty: strawberry & cream frappe (cream base, no coffee) with vanilla whipped cream, Java chips and strawberry syrup. Also a birthday cake pop & a ham/cheese toastie 🍡

Mary: oatmeal & smooth orange Juice. Might also branch to a youthberry tea on particularly adventurous days. 🥣

Thomas: (hot) caramel macchiato (shaken) with double shot espresso con panna, one pump caramel and hazelnut syrup with vanilla whipped cream, white mocha sauce and a dolce de leche milk base. (Cold) a iced brown sugar cafe mocha/ salted maple mix with Java chips, vanilla foam, a pump of vanilla and hazelnut surup with a double shot expresso con panna. Mozzarella & tomato panini. 🍹

Humphrey: cold foam iced cappuccino with caramel syrup and chocolate sprinkles. 🧋

Mike: either a iced chai tea latte with vanilla cold foam and hazelnut syrup or a mint citrus tea. He also gets a chicken Caesar wrap & a lemon & poppyseed muffin. 🧁

Alison: pumpkin spiced latte with vanilla syrup and or a iced caramel latte with extra caramel syrup and maple cold foam. Sweet potato & pumpkin seed fritter wrap with a white choc/raspberry blondie. 🫔

Julian: grande americano with a sneaky shot of something off-menu. Ham & cheese croissant with almond biscotti. ☕️

Robin: like a big cup of vanilla cold foam underneath 10 pumps chocolate syrup with Java chips and chocolate sprinkles. A bacon sandwich & some ham too. 🥓

#had to google the menu again #honestly this was so fun #Starbucks #bbc ghosts #hedcanon

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crownedclownprince · 2 months

Text

chucklescout cookies for beginners

razzle-dazzles: softbaked cookies with raspberry filling, comes in plain, chocolate dipped and double dipped

peanut butter bats: crunchy peanut butter cookies shaped like the bat symbol with a creamy pb filling

oopsie-doodles: snickerdoodle style cinnamon cookies, stamped with silly faces

chococrocs: chocolate chunk cookies with a mixture of green dough swirled with chocolate dough

chewie twoies: soft chewy black and white cookies

peppermint penguins: flaky shortbread cookies with a thin soft layer of minty filling, covered in chocolate

junk drawer: peanut butter cookie base, with white chocolate chips, milk chocolate chips, coconut, peanut butter chips, and pretzels

#ooc

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emeraldgreaves · 3 months

Note

🌿🦉🍪

for the ask game!

Ask Game

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit. BEE DRESS!! i.e. dress with bees on the collar. surena marie wore one during a court of fey and flowers and i needed it, so i tracked one down for resale.

🦉Are you a morning person or a night owl? somehow i have shifted to a morning person in the last year or so. nowadays i find it easier to get up in the morning than i do to stay up late, but that might be externally enforced my my work schedule. i was very much a night owl in college though.

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

sable shortbread with dark chocolate and sea salt. short, occasionally bitter, but overall considered sweet. (this doubles as my reminder to try and make sable shortbread, lol)

#emerald speaks #ask meme

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meiandthedevil · 11 months

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#i keep fucking up these polls i forget to select 1 week instead of 1 day #reblog for bigger sample size or whatever

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hopepaigeturner · 1 year

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🎄 Giftmas Day 3: Basket of favourite food. Polin

I saw the prompt and instantly I thought of Polin! A little modern AU.

Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

Penelope double-checked the shopping list and surveyed the bags on her kitchen island.

Shortbread—check.

Chocolate Buttons—check.

Greg’s sausage roll—check.

The list went on to include Colin’s favourite cider, the one that their local childhood brewery made; a packet of Moams like the ones they used to chuck to each other like grapes during school breaktimes; a packet microwave popcorn—one sweet and one salty although not to be combined until cooked.

It was a lot of work for a homecoming present, but over the years Penelope had enjoyed assembling the package. Whenever she brought that specific packet of chocolate buttons or baked those brownies it felt like walking through a photo album.

But the best part would be after the gifting. When Colin would take her to a park, or they would camp down in the lounge and share the feast. He would tell raucous adventures in far flung places while Penelope talked about the gossip in her office. Such days she could spend and imagine that they were on a proper date and that she didn’t need to bribe her way into his affections.

Colin was her best friend. Always had been and always would. No matter how much Penelope wished for more.

The doorbell rang.

Penelope checked the time—pointless. Eloise was out with her new boyfriend, and she was seeing Colin tomorrow.

She opened the door.

“Hi.”

“Colin?” Penelope cried, jumping into his arms. She felt his chuckle in her chest as they hugged.

“Hiya Pen.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I got an earlier flight.”

“Whatever for?”

Something flickered on Colin’s face—no, no she was imagining things.

“Always want to keep you on your toes.”

“Oh, but I haven’t got your gift ready!” Penelope gasped, mortified as they entered the flat.

“No worries, I’ve got a surprise.”

“For me?”

“No for Noddy—of course for you—put this on.”

He handed her a black mask, like the ones given out on long-haul flights.

“A blindfold?”

“Trust me?” She looked up at him. His eyes had always sparked with mischief, but that spark could never outweigh the calm blue hue of his iris.

“Ofcourse.”

He led her out her and into a car and they drove. Penelope tried to count the turns but gave up and peppered Colin with questions.

“Patience woman! Let me do something nice for you for once.”

That shut her up. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something for her.

Eventually they pulled up somewhere and Colin helped her out the car and through another door. She heard the ‘ting’ of the lift. He took off her blindfold and Penelope was affronted by a set of stairs. She turned to him; Colin shrugged.

“I thought it would be safer.”

Penelope didn’t give it a second thought and ascended. Although she did notice his fingers rhythmically tapping on the handrail as they climbed. Typically, she could guess which song the beat belonged to but there seemed to be no correlation today.

Finally, they reached a door and Penelope opened it and gasped.

They were on a roof at least ten stories up, looking over Hyde Park. Her dream location.

In the centre was a beautifully decorated basket filled with some very familiar items.

“Colin?” she whispered, turning to him. Colin squirmed under her gaze, blushing.

“It’s for you.”

Penelope walked forward and crouched to look through the basket. Some were shared memories, like Moams or Chocolate Buttons. But then there was some ginger beer in the fancy bottle little teashops always used—her favourite. A packet of Wotsits—her favourite. Colin the Caterpillar (her birthday cake for over two decades). And dip-dabs and little macarons from Laduree and fruit winders and…

Every single item revolved around her. That included the Prosecco chilling ina bucket rather than champagne.

“What are we celebrating?” she asked.

“You.” She turned and found Colin on her knees next to her, looking a little sick. “It’s all for you, Pen. My Pen.”

Penelope’s breath caught. He had called her that since she was seven years old, but in that precise moment it held a whole new meaning.

She stared, wordless, as words tumbled out of Colin’s mouth.

“A couple nights ago some veteran backpacker—at least in his fifties—joined our group for dinner. H spent the entire evening just…cracking open the world to us far better than all our travels had done. At one point he asked our opinion for the reason men gaze at the horizon. We all piped in about yearning for adventure, or reaching new depths of life, but he waved all our answers away. He said that men look at the horizon because they are looking for home. He explained that while the world is a vast mystery ready to be explored, deep down in one’s soul there is only one calling—a calling for home. And the horizon reminds man where his home is, the one place he yearns to belong.” He took her hands in his. “The next morning I stood and looked out to the horizon and all I thought about, all my heart yearned for…was you.”

Penelope could barely breathe; she could only drown in his words and the soulful expression in his eyes.

“And I realised that for far too long I have been lost, for far too long I have been blind. I have scoured the earth for the very thing that was right in front of me. The one person who is the best thing in my life. The one person who features in my favourite adventures. The one woman who has always had my heart.”

He brought their clasped hands to his heart. Through the fabric of his t-shirt Penelope could just make out the rapidity of his heartbeat. Another rhythm she knew so well.

. “I know I will never be able to make up for all the kindness you have shown me, but this,” he gestured to the basket, “is my offering. A slim offering that does nothing to convey the depth of my feelings for you. The depths…the depths of my love for you Pen.”

In the distance a siren swelled down the street, the wind rippled around them, but Penelope did not feel the chill.

“You love me?”

Colin flinched at her tone and mistook it for disgust rather than disbelief,

“You do not have to say anything back, you do not—”

“But I love you.” He halted, mouth gaping. Penelope shuffled forward and cupped his face. “I have loved you for years Colin Bridgerton. It’s about time you caught up.” Then ever so gently she kissed him.

Penelope’s heart swooped, like a bird dropping off a cliff, rushing towards the sea before suddenly, at the last moment, banking and rising high, high, high into the sky. Her heart continued its trajectory as Colin kissed back with unrelenting passion. Her hands went to his hair as his went around her waist.

And just like their first conversation, their first hug, their first dance at prom and the first time they greeted each other in an airport—it felt as natural as the sun setting along the horizon behind them.

But they weren’t looking at the horizon. They had no need to ever look at it again.

#12 days of giftmas #bridgerton #polin #modern au #romancing mister bridgerton #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #food baskets #cute romantic feels #I don't know where that metaphor came from #it just happened #best friends to lovers

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