Adventurer Cookie Novels & Stories

I abruptly leap to my feet. “Is something wrong?” he asks, concerned. Oh fuvk! just stay far away from me. “Nope. I'm great.” “I'll get us drinks.” “No, drinks! Anything, but no drinks.” He shrugs, goes to a mini locker and brings out a bunch of cookies which he spreads on a flat plate. “Why am I getting spooky when I'm only having cookies…” I mumble after a few bites. “These cookies contain a bit of alcohol ingredient…”

' 'No one can do this to you, right? 'Right, just you.' 'Whose woman are you?' 'Yours, yours, Coco… Just fuck me already!' I cried. 'Tell me how much you love me.' 'Very, very, much, enough to tolerate your shitty attitude and to frustrate you for the rest of your life. I am Cookie, I will make sure I drive you insane and fill your life with sunshine and rainbow and teddy bears and candies – men I love candies – and… Oh, shit!' I moaned at the end as he finally ended my misery.

Cole and I stopped and turned in his direction. He stopped running, bending forward and placing his hands on his knees, resting and catching his breath. “Wait,” he raised his one hand, still panting. He lifted his head and smiled at me. “Xian tried this new cookie recipe. Please try it,” he offered, giving me a small container filled with different sizes of cookies. “Don’t taste it if you want to live long, Brielle.” Cole laughed at him, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to him. Xian bakes great cookies.”

From my seated position, the cookies are at perfect eye level, and against my better judgment, I pick one off the top of the pile. It's dark brown and brittle. A few pieces flick off as I lower the cookie closer to the small plate my cup of coffee sits on. Burnt doesn't begin to describe the abomination in my hand. It looks like she put the cookie through torture. "What kind are they?" I ask before bringing the cookie to my lips. "Chocolate chip." Tabitha grins, looking down at the plate. "They're a little burnt." A little burnt is an understatement. That's like saying the Titanic nudged an icicle.

she explains warmly, “It’s my own special blend. It replenishes energy and rebalances power in the body. Think of it as magical Gatorade!” I can’t help but wonder if her cookies work on people who haven’t been through near death experiences. I could probably use some magical Gatorade given what we’ve all been through the past few days! “And yes, you can eat these cookies even if you haven’t been cursed or otherwise injured,” she says with a grin, anticipating my question, “But it won’t do exactly the same thing for you. Its effects on you would probably be closer to drinking coffee. That’s the best way I can describe it.”

Coconut shrimp were steadfast and tasty, filling time, her belly, and whatever aching hole was in her that needed to be sated. Cheesy potato pancakes didn’t send out confusing signals. Cookies didn’t judge her. Peanut Butter Hulk Smash cake would serve her, would be at her disposal, would meet her needs.

I scrunched my nose, pointing at Carl's plate. "That's because he saved us, Ang!" Carl was smirking when I looked at him. Then picking up a cookie, he shoved it in his mouth but not before passing me a wink. He was obviously enjoying it. Nutella cookies are my favourite and I need a total amount of 15-20 cookies to fill my stomach and what could these fine do? But at least I still get to eat them. I sulked as he continued to eat the cookies with the smirk still intact.

He says. “Thank you! Also do you happen to have an more of those cookies you made me? They’re amazing.” He laughs and opens a cabinet where there is a container full of the cookies. They’re lactation cookies and taste so good that I could eat fifty of them. They’re also healthy enough to eat for breakfast while still tasting like a treat. Chef grabs a small plate and sets two of the large cookies on it before handing it over to me. I take the plate and immediately take a huge bite out of one and groan happily. “So good.”

Just…different. “You taste that?” I asked. Ivan frowned, expression changing. “Actually…” “What?” His eyes widened. “I do not think these are the complimentary cookies.” “What?” I spluttered. “They’re the special menu.” “The what now?” “The—” His chair scraped backward, and he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Oh…” I blinked. “What?” “They’re cannabis cookies.” I stared at him. “…You have got to be kidding me.” He winced.

CLAIRE'S POV: Jennifer’s cookies were ridiculously good—crispy on the edges, soft in the center, and just the right amount of chocolate. We sat cross-legged on the kitchen stools, laughing over a meme she’d shown me while munching through our third batch. "You know," she said, licking a crumb off her thumb, "if I ever open a bakery, I’m naming it ‘Jennifer’s Justified Cravings.’" I chuckled. "You’d have to give me lifetime access. These cookies are basically therapy."