cookie dough pops


🍪Vegan No-Bake Cookie Dough Pops🍪 

Daddy’s a Baker

Bouncing into the front room, blonde curls rebounding up and down, Grace finds her daddy sitting in his favorite overstuffed chair reading a book. 

“Daddy, I want a treat.” Smiling wide at her father. 

Harry looks up from his book, her big blue eyes sparkling at him. “What kind of treat are ya thinking bug?" 

"Hmm” Grace slowly taps her finger against her chunky cheek as she thinks of something yummy. “Cookies?" 

"Oooo those do sound good don’t they?” Harry beams at his favorite little girl. “Peanut butter or chocolate chip?" 

"Mummy loves chocolate chip, so do I." 

"Chocolate chip it is! Race ya to the kitchen?” Harry puts his book down on the table and stands up to race his little one into the kitchen. 

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enby-lesbean-deactivated2017061  asked:

if keith is lactose intolerant, i'm fairly sure this happens on a daily/weekly basis lance: keith isn't that your third milkshake today keith: what's your point

Keith, in the kitchen at 2am, glancing around furtively: (quietly cracks open the freezer and pulls out a tub of Blue Bell chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream)

Shiro: (pops up from beneath the island) NOT SO FAST

Happy Valentine’s Day: A WestAllen Family Fic

Hey, guys! This is for all the WestAllen Fans out there who are needing a pick-me up after the season finale, and might I just say that it had some pretty good points! H.R.’s sacrifice was a great plot twist, and I’m so glad Harry is staying! Though, I think I’ll actually enjoy it (more) when Barry comes back from the Speed Force. This idea came into my head not long after the episode, and I decided to write it down.

Here goes!

Iris West-Allen woke up and looked at her alarm clock. The red digital numbers read 5:30 in the morning. Something had woken her up, but what? Did Barry get out of bed? She rolled over. No, he was sound asleep.

The sound of metal on the kitchen counter echoed throughout the hall and into her bedroom.

“Aw, man!” A little voice complained.

Iris felt even more confused. What was little Hank doing up so early? He wasn’t supposed to be up for another 45 minutes.

Iris lifted the covers off of her legs and slid out of bed and was greeted by the cold wooden floor. She grabbed her bathrobe from the hanger on the door and walked out into the hallway sliding it on and trying the belt as she went along.

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fun-sized-gem  asked:

Police station kacchako for that one ship prompt please

A/N: This is pure, cavity-inducing, unapologetic fluffy fluff. This is kind of a throwback to another “drabble”. Also it’s 1136 words…(one day I’ll write a proper drabble, guys, I swear it…)

“The fuck are you doing in the dark?”

Ochako jumps and a chill giggles down her spine as Bakugou’s deep voice, thick and groggy with sleep, comes up from behind her. Suddenly, the kitchen is awash with light as he flips on the switch and Ochako curls tighter into herself, determined not to face him.

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amorremanet  asked:

heeeeyo, you know the 'sitting on the floor, watching the cookie dough bloom' text? i mean, I'm not saying Sour Skittles, Derek comes home and finds his boyfriends totally stoned and totally engrossed in watching the cookie dough bloom, probably while popping little balls of raw cookie dough in each other's mouths, but I'm not NOT saying that either SO. (◡‿◡✿) (…or that's where my mind went anyway idk???)


“Oh my god, Scott. Come look at this.”

Scott waves off a haze of smoke and slowly turns his head to squint at the kitchen. He can’t see Stiles, and his voice sounds muffled as he says, “Dude, seriously. Oh my god.”

It sounds urgent, so Scott moves to get up, even though he’s feeling totally awesome and super comfy sprawled out on the couch. He sits forward, but his belly is sort of in the way, so he rolls a little to the side before he heaves himself up. He brushes crumbs off his belly and is in the doorway of the kitchen before he realizes it, brain a couple of steps behind.

Stiles is kneeling in front of the oven, face practically pressed against the glass. A fit of giggles bursts out of Scott’s throat, and Stiles looks up to stare at him, bleary yet so very offended. 

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potentialheartofdarkness  asked:

Could you write me CS + Baking idk something at a ridiculous time like 3am? PLEASE YOU PRECIOUS CUTIE YOU <33

you know i can’t say no to sexy cs baking times.

She’s been lying wide awake for the better part of an hour now, tossing and turning, hoping the the hunger will subside. She even curls up into his side, her head resting on his chest, feeling the downy hair tickle the side of her nose. But no. Nothing can change the fact that it’s almost three o’clock in the fucking morning and she’s starving and craving something ridiculously sweet. 

What the baby wants, the baby gets.

Groaning as she pushes herself up on her palms, she feels Killian stir beside her. She feels the tips of his fingers start to play with her hair, tracing the curls at the ends, “What is it love? Everything okay?” 

“Hmm, yeah. Just hungry. Seriously, these cravings need to stop already,” she sighs exasperatedly. Standing up and rapidly pulling on one of his long sleeve shirts and small shorts, she starts to head down the stairs. Thankfully her parents got their own place in the past year, allowing her to actually have past midnight excursions to the bathroom without worrying about waking her parents. Well, that and…other things. And with Henry staying at Regina’s tonight, hurrah for not having to keep quiet anymore, she things slyly to herself. 

“Swan, hang on a moment,” she turns around at the bottom of the loft stairs to see him wearing nothing but sweats swung low on his hips, the oh so sexy trail of hair that got her into this little predicament to begin with disappearing beneath the hem, making her think about denying herself of sweets for something more…substantial. 

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anonymous asked:

Hey! I'm moving to a new city soon. Any recommendations for spells or things to bake in my new kitchen to settle into my new place?


Three things I associate with home are fresh baked bread, a good roasted chicken dinner, and soup.  I think of these as breaking in the new kitchen and filling it with “homey” smells that bring a sense of comfort and togetherness.  

You don’t have to make what I’m describing below.  I think it’s important to make something that fills you with the feelings described above.  Even if that means just grabbing a tub of pre-made cookie dough and popping it in the oven.  As you’re making said thing, you can “meditate” on your vision of what you want your home to be and feel.  Trying to “will” those things into being as they bake.

I’ll put this under a readmore because it’s kinda long since I really really love talking about cooking.

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aj-2000  asked:

This is really fluffy and cheesy so I hope you like it!

“Keep singing.”

Derek hadn’t even realized he’d been singing at all. He’d gotten caught up in the soothing melodies from the radio on the counter, humming along as he mixed the batter for the chocolate chip cookies he’d decided to make on a whim. The humming had gradually shifted into him absentmindedly mumbling the words to the songs he recognized, butchering some of the lyrics as he folded in the chocolate chips and added another teaspoon of vanilla extract.

Apparently he must have been singing along much louder than he’d thought as he’d turned around to toss some eggshells into the trashcan to see Stiles lingering in the doorway, holding a bowl from dinner. He’d chewed on his lip and urged Derek to continue.

Stiles was looking up at him with a broad smile, looking so earnest and expectant Derek felt his chest ache as he stuttered out an apologetic refusal. Feeling his cheeks flush with warmth, he croaked out, “Uh… I I… I can’t…”

“Oh,” Stiles answered, his face dropping for a moment before he quickly plastered on another smile. He shrugged casually, walking forward to put the bowl in his hands in the sink, spraying it with some water and leaving it to soak. “That’s alright, dude.”

Derek could immediately smell the disappointment that clung to Stiles’ skin, traces of guilt lacing his scent. Derek winced, wanting to whine. He hadn’t meant to upset Stiles, hadn’t meant to make him feel guilty about asking for something so simple. He’d just been embarrassed and shy.

It was still hard for him to be open, to freely express himself without fear of judgement or rejection or ridicule. He was gradually getting better at it, not hiding everything behind glares and posturing, but it was still an uphill climb and he was sure Stiles’ patience would run out eventually.

He wished there were a way he could convey his true thoughts, his real feelings, but he didn’t think Hallmark made a card that said ‘Sorry I’m so emotionally constipated and insecure. I’m still  dealing with getting over the fact that some monster used me to burn my house down and kill  my entire family but I swear I’m trying and I love you, I really do.

He couldn’t imagine there would be a very big market for that.

Now he just wanted to apologize, wanted to kiss away any trace of guilt or sadness or unease that Stiles felt, wanted to wrap him up in his arms and hold him tight until he smiled a genuine smile again. But instead he went back to stirring the cookie dough.

Stiles slipped past Derek and hauled himself up onto the counter, sitting beside the side and swinging his legs restlessly. He leaned over to stick a finger in the mixing bowl, scooping up a dollop of cookie dough and quickly popping it into his mouth. He laughed maniacally when Derek smacked his hand with the wooden spoon he was using to mix the dough, glaring at him half-heartedly.

“You’re gonna get salmonella,” Derek informed him as he grabbed the cookie sheet from the stovetop, moving it to the other counter.

“Salmonella’s in the shells, Derek,” Stiles snorted, rolling his eyes as he licked a dab of dough off his knuckles.

“Whatever you say,” Derek said, shaking his head, sure he was going to regret his words eventually as he started spooning approximately sized balls of dough onto the greased cookie. He crossed the kitchen to slide the tray of cookies in the oven, setting the timer for eighteen minutes. “Just don’t come crying to me when you’re doubled over with stomach cramps.”

“Awww,” Stiles pouted, jutting his bottom lip out and batting his eyelashes. “You wouldn’t come take care of me if I got sick? Some boyfriend you are.”

“Of course I would,” Derek answered, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ cheek as he put the mixing bowl in the sink. “Just not if it’s your own fault.”

“Fine,” Stiles conceded, poking Derek in the ribs as he started washing the dishes. He grabbed the wooden spoon out of the mixing bowl before Derek could spray it with water. “But I still get to lick the spoon.”

*        *        *        *        *        *        *

Derek thought for a long while about just how he could make it up to Stiles, but he wasn’t good with words. They always got jumbled in his mouth, always stuck to his tongue, always caught in his throat when he tried to speak.

So he decided to use someone else’s words.

He found Stiles in the bedroom, standing in the middle of the room as he scrolled through something on his phone. Derek sidled up behind him, slipping his arms around his waist and holding him tight.

Stiles huffed a small, startled laugh. “Derek, what are you―”

Wise men say / Only fools rush in,” Derek began shakily, voice gravelly and rough. “But I can’t help falling in love with you.


Shall I stay? / Would it be a sin / If I can’t help falling in love with you?” He gently rocked them side to side, noting the pink flush spreading over Stiles’ cheeks and the back of his neck.

Like a river flows / Surely to the sea / Darling, so it goes / Some things are meant to be.” Derek leaned closer, brushing his stubbled cheek over the side of Stiles’ neck, growing infinitely more confident, letting his eyelids drift closed.

Take my hand, / Take my whole life, too / For I can’t help falling in love with you.” He opened his eyes, picking up one of Stiles’ hands and intertwining their fingers, raising their joined hands to press a fleeting kiss to the back of Stiles’ hand. “Like a river flows / Surely to the sea / Darling, so it goes / Some things are meant to be / Take my hand, / Take my whole life, too / For I can’t help falling in love with you…

Squeezing his arms tighter around Stiles, Derek nestled his face in the thick fabric of Stiles’ flannel. He breathed in deeply, basking in the comforting scent of Stiles. Softly, he confessed, “I know I’m not very good with words but I wanted to let you know how much you mean to me.”

A small sniffle from Stiles had him jerking his head back, moving his hands to Stiles’ hips, silently encouraging him to turn around. When he did, laying his hands on Derek’s chest, his eyes were teary but his smile was radiant.

“Oh, Derek,” Stiles whispered, his voice so very fond it made Derek’s chest ache again, this time from pure unadulterated happiness, feeling as though his heart was about to burst.

He cupped Stiles’ cheeks in his hands, wiping away his tears with his thumbs, as he pressed their foreheads together, smiling widely.

“I love you,” Derek murmured, brushing his thumbs over Stiles’ cheeks, near tears himself.

Sniffling again, Stiles laughed, “I love you too, you big sap.”

Derek huffed out a deep laugh before bringing their mouths together in a slow, sweet embrace, pouring everything he felt for Stiles that he couldn’t articulate with mere words into the kiss.

Who needed words when he had Stiles, anyway?

Send me prompts!

The Better Baker

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam (sibling relationship)

Warnings: None.

Request: So!! I haven’t requested in a long time but I finally have a good one for you…I think? Anyway, I humbly request: brother!Dean and younger sister!reader sharing a secret love for baking.

A/N: I was a little distracted while writing this so I’m sure it could be better but I think it came out okay still. This was a really cute idea so I hope I did I decent job and that my lovely friend castielgalaxy enjoys it, as well as the rest of you wonderful people.


The counter was already a mess and you hadn’t even started baking yet. It was cluttered with mixing bowls, spoons, measuring cups, and all of the ingredients to make your favorite chocolate chip cookies. It was Valentine’s Day and while normally Dean and Sam would be out trying to find someone to curb the loneliness with, tonight they decided to stay in. So to help make their Valentine’s Day a little sweeter, you decided to bake some treats for them.

Neither of the boys knew you could bake. It was a skill you had acquired as a little girl and you had quite a knack for it. With the hunting life keeping the three of you so busy though, you rarely had time to utilize your talent. They were going to be so surprised.

Sam and Dean were your half brothers. John Winchester had strolled through your town one night, got a little too cozy with your mom and nine months later, there you were. You’d never met the guy but your mom told you that he did call to check in occasionally. She told you about your two half brothers that were out there somewhere so when she passed away you decided to track them down. You didn’t know what you expected when you showed up on their doorstep three years ago but having holy water thrown in your face definitely wasn’t it. After doing a series of different tests they invited you in and you just never left. They were more welcoming then you would expect from two estranged brothers. Family was important to them though and when they realized they had a sister it didn’t take long for them to warm up to you and try to make up for the twenty-four years they weren’t there to pick on you.

You began mixing together the dry ingredients first in a small, metal mixing bowl. The counters and floors now had a thin dusting of flour and sugar on them and you had even managed to drop a whole egg on the ground once you started with the wet ingredients. When everything was finished being combined and mixed you dipped your finger in the bowl and scooped out some of the fluffy cookie dough. You popped it into your mouth and let out a sigh when the familiar taste hit your tongue. These were going to be absolutely delicious.

“Hey squirt! Watcha making?” came your oldest brother’s voice from the doorway. You spun around to see Dean standing against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He had a goofy smirk on his face as he sauntered in your direction, his eyes holding the look of someone intent on causing trouble.

He slowly rounded the counter and when he got close enough to see inside the bowl you were holding his eyes widened in excitement as his hand shot towards the cookie dough. You swatted his hand with a mixing spoon you had sitting close by and he yanked his hand back, his face pulling down into a playful scowl.

“Ouch! Not nice, Y/N. I just want a little taste.” he said as he reached again for the bowl.

You pointed the spoon at him and his hand froze in midair. You raised your eyebrow, silently daring him to move his hand just a little closer. His eyes stared daggers at the wooden weapon you yielded as he lowered his hand back to his side.

“No tasting till their baked. Trust me, it’ll be worth it,” you said.

“I’ve never even seen you bake before so they can’t be that good. I bet mine are better.” he teased.

“You can bake?” you snorted.

Dean shifted his eyes down to the floor, suddenly embarrassed with his confession. He strolled over to the counter where your utensils and dirty bowls were strewn across the marble slab and began running his finger along through the flour that covered almost every inch of the smooth surface.

“When we were younger and Sam and I were left at all of those motels, I might have watched the Food Network. Like a lot. And I might have picked up a few things along the way,” he admitted as he wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving behind white, powdery fingerprints.

“Alright then. You want to prove you’re a better baker? Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?”

Dean’s eyes lit up and a mischievous grin broke out across his face. He thrust his hand out towards you and you took it, shaking it up and down in agreement.

“You’re on!”

The next hour was spent mixing and scooping. Pans banged against the inside of the oven as you removed them and replaced them again with another sheet of cookie dough. The rules were simple. Sam would be the judge and whoever made the best cookies got out of chore duty for a week. The loser also had to clean up the colossal mess that the two of your were creating.

Halfway through your second batch of cookies you chanced a glance over at Dean’s side of the kitchen. He had an open bag of milk chocolate chips as well as a bag of white chocolate chips setting next to his large mixing bowl. That sneaky bastard. You turned back to your work station and yanked open the cupboards looking for something you could add to your second batch that would really surprise him. Just as you were about to give up you remembered a large bag of M&M’s that you had stashed in the drawer the other day. They were your favorite candy and you thought that they would be the perfect addition to your already divine cookie recipe.

You finished your mixing and scooped your new and improved cookie dough onto a baking sheet. You switched it with the pan inside the oven, letting the hot one cool on a rack near the sink. Dean came up behind you and slid his pan in on the second shelf inside the oven just as you began closing the door.

“Hey! You almost knocked my arm with the door! That would have burned!” he scolded halfheartedly.

“Really?” you mocked as your hand slowly reached into a nearby bag of flour, “Maybe you should be more careful.”

You pulled your hand from the bag and threw a large handful of flour at your brother. The powder hit him directly in the face, coloring his skin and hair white. You laughed as he opened up his eyes and let out a frustrated breath, the flour creating a cloud of dust near his mouth before it disappeared. A sly smirk pulled at Dean’s lips, his eyes narrowing in on you as you took a step back, realizing that you were now in big, big trouble.

There was no sound for a few moments and then Dean launched forward, swiping the flour bag from the counter and chasing after you. You let out a loud yelp and swung around the end of the counter as you tried to get away from him but it was no use. His arm wrapped firmly around your middle as he pulled you back and dumped the entire bag of flour over your head. The dust settled over your long hair and fell into soft piles on the floor. You wanted to be mad but when you looked up at your big brother, covered head to toe in flour, you began to laugh. You laughed so hard that you could barely stand so you leaned against the cabinet and slid down until your butt hit the floor. Dean joined you a moment later, his laughter causing his shoulders to shake as he clutched at his stomach.

You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed so hard and if you would have known that baking cookies would have brought such a huge smile to Dean’s face you would have done it a lot sooner. You didn’t see him or Sam smile nearly enough and you made mental note to try to bake more often. You and Dean giggled for the next few minutes, the sound echoing through the kitchen and masking the sound of footsteps against the hard floors.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

You both stopped laughing and looked up to see Sam standing over you, his eyes more confused than angry. Dean and you looked to each other, wondering what explanation you could possibly come up with for this huge mess when you heard a buzzer sound, signaling that the cookies were done baking.

“We made you cookies!” Dean exclaimed.

When all four dozen of the cookies had cooled you used a spatula to pile them onto two large plates. You set them in front of Sam who was now seated at the kitchen table, telling him that the ones on the green plate were Dean’s and the ones on the blue plate were yours and that he had to try each kind and pick his favorite.

Sam reached forward and grabbed two cookies from Dean’s plate, one plain chocolate chip and one white chocolate and milk chocolate. Then he grabbed one of your chocolate chip cookies and one of your M&M’s cookies. He took a bite from each one, thoroughly chewing each sugary treat before trying the next. When he had tasted all four he sat back in his chair and looked up at the two of you.

“Well, Y/N’s are softer and more chewy but Dean’s white chocolate chip ones are really good.” he announced.

You gave Dean a smug smile and he mirrored your expression, his arms crossing over his chest. You both looked back to Sam, eager to find out which one of you was the better baker.

“So,” Dean asked impatiently, “which one of us makes better cookies?”

“Honestly? Their both great. I don’t think I can choose.” Sam said as he took another bite of your M&M cookie.

Your shoulder’s sunk a little at his answer but then you felt Dean’s hand knock against your elbow. You looked at him and his eyes held that mischievous glint in them again.

“So you’re saying we both won then?” he asked Sam.

“Yeah, I guess so. Why?” Sam answered around a mouthful of cookie.

“Well, the deal was that the loser had to clean this mess up and since we both won…” he trailed off as he snatched a handful of cookies and took off down the hall. You grabbed the entire plate with his cookies on it and dashed after him, leaving Sam in the messy kitchen yelling after you two and giggling the entire way.