Cookie Run Clover Cookie Novels & Stories

Rayven, listening carefully to his next words. "It's called BloodyCookie," he said, making the room quiet. After a second, a burst of laughter filled the room. "Hahaha, what is that? Do you think we're kids? Putting up nonsense like that? Haha," someone burst out while laughing. Even the other students can't stop themselves from laughing because of that. BloodyCookie was a popular online game before. It is where you will find a cookie in a certain place. But it needs you to survive several questions and answer them through the doors.

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."

Unable to stop it. No. I refused to stand here and cry. I needed answers, facts and proof. Not feelings. I headed straight back to the dining hall. Most of the festival guests had already left, and servants moved quietly through the room, cleaning the aftermath in silence. My gaze swept over the scattered remains of the celebration until something caught my attention. A cookie lay half-hidden beneath a table. Untouched. I crouched and carefully picked it up with a napkin. The scent reached me immediately—honey, milk, and butter, with a faint bitter note lurking beneath the sweetness.

Cookie conversed with her self. Cookie picked some clothes and check out some of them in the changing room. Cookie changed her clothes. The one she was putting on. She was now wearing head warmer, a white t-shirt a black trouser, black thick gloves, a black jacket, and a pair of black boots. She also had a bag full of clothes now that she's selected herself already but Martina kept insisting she took more and more.

“Are you heading out?” “No? I came looking for you.” “I need to do another tray of these cookies,” she says. “I’m almost out up front, and they’re a popular seller.” “Cookies,” I say, pinning her with a look. “Cookies,” she replies. “Cranberry macadamia nut with white chocolate. You can try one when they come out of the oven if you want.” Autumn makes a show of evenly spacing each scoop of cookie dough, giving it all her focus like it’s the most important thing she’s ever done. She’s obviously trying to pretend everything is fine, acting cheerful and light, but she still won’t look at me.

I say it’s proof I’m two decaf coffees away from going completely feral. Speaking of Claire, she’s due any minute. She’s bringing groceries and something called “labor cookies,” which she swears by. Apparently, they’re packed with spices and all kinds of natural things meant to nudge reluctant babies into action. I’m skeptical. Watch, it’ll just give me heartburn and a better reason to stay in bed. The kettle whistles, and I manage to pour myself a cup of chamomile without spilling it. Small victories. I settle into my favorite armchair—the one by the window overlooking the tiny, overgrown garden—and lift my swollen feet onto the ottoman with a sigh.

“Well… minus the stupid stuff.” He laughs. “You contributed to some of that.” I grin. “Touché.” As Clover hands me her box, I pause.. “Oh my God… you’ve popped.” She laughs, rubbing her belly. “Every day I wake up, it’s like the baby gained two pounds overnight.” We all laugh as we head toward the brunch area. Clover immediately starts grazing. “Mmm… this is good. Are these mini quiches?” “Yes,” I say proudly. “Spinach and ham.”

Chloe busted into a fit of giggles and said bluntly, “President Clifford, we're lucky that this dough is beige in color. Otherwise, no one would want to eat a pile of chocolate-flavored poop-shaped cookies” Kelvin's expression froze as he stared down at his masterpiece and felt embarrassed. He impatiently there down the things in his hands and said, “You can do it yourself then”. “Someone's sulking” Chloe raised her brows and gave him a gloating look.“All right. it's not like we can't save it–I think there is still a way we can salvage this”. After that, she took a small cranberry from the bag full of cranberries and placed it on the poop shape cookie before using a toothpick to lengthen the

Bailey POV Orion considers the spread thoughtfully for a minute, the hesitation making me anxious. “ Come on, I'm dying of anticipation.” I jab at him and he smiles then points to a tray next to me. "Definitely the croissants. I like all three varieties. The cinnamon rolls are a must and the honey lavender scones are unique enough to be a signature item. And these…" he holds up one of the chocolate chip cookies, "...are perfect. Don't change a thing about them."