Cookie Run Kingdom: Oneshots And Other Stuff

Butter Roll Cookie X Reader (Experiment Success)

This was a request! I hope you'll enjoy some mildly angsty goodness! >:3

Summary: You're his experiment and he's excited about his breakthrough with you. But you aren't.

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Reader

You'd think that staring a life would mean to be born. Or in a cookie's case: To be baked. To awaken to the scorching heat inside an oven's steeled maw. To find the licking flames streching for you. Writhing in desire to devour your dough. At first you'd think of it as comfortable. Like the welcoming warmth of a freind's hug. But as your dough crispens, deepening is rich color from pale to well-baked, you'd find yourself grow uncomfortable as you reach your own ideal point of baked-ness. And you would rise from the tray, awakened with life and movement. And you would flee.

I had none of that. My first impression of the world was the sensation of coldness. A hard, unforgiving surface to rest upon. It's cool temperature reaching for and inside my dough like fingers of a dead man.

My first instinct, too, was to flee.

However I quickly found myself incapable. Incapacitated by leather strips, binding my wrists and ankles to the table I was laid upon.

My eyes shot open. This was not an oven.

A shiver slithers up my spine as I take in the room around me. It seemed too sterile for a living space.

Yet there I was. Breathing. Thinking. Writhing within the compounds of my restraints.

Foreign devices and machines coat the walls around me. Each of their purpose unknown to my untrained eyes.

My first emotion was that of fear. My throat felt tight, and something inside my chest is thumping so wildly, I was afraid it'd tear my fragile chest apart.

Wasn't I supposed to be surrounded by warmth? Why was I so cold? Wasn't I supposed to rise and open heavy doors? To march into the world through my own power? And take my freedom as I deserved?

I writhed again. Testing the resilience of my bounds. But they were as unforgiving as the cold.

My dough shivered. I shivered. Not only with my body, but with everything that entailed me as a sentient being.

A noise. Clicking, short and sudden. I couldn't see it's source. Trying to crane my head to see, proved to be unfruitful.

"Oh by the Witches! I can't believe it!"

A voice, firm and ecstatic.

The voice's owner crossed the room with quick steps.

The cookie entered my field of view quicker than an overbaked cookie trying to escape the oven. I could only stare, taking in and processing what was presented to me.

He was tall. Broad shouldered. His attire as white and sterile as this room. But his gleaming eyes and flowing butter-frosting for hair betrayed his cold appearance, adding to the mix a sense of star-eyed wonder and urging thirst for discovery.

He stared back at me. Eyes darting over my face, then my body and twitching limbs.

I had began to starin against my bounds again. Unknowingly.

He reached out for me, placing his hands on my slim shoulders. Gently. They were warm.

Warm.

Finally warmth. At last.

I stilled.

"Shshhh, there we go. That's much better. Let's both keep calm and not get overwhelmed, hey?", he said.

To me. He spoke to me.

I opened my mouth. Willed to respond. To speak myself. But I couldn't find my voice.

He removed his hands from me. The warmth was gone. I was back to quivering and longing. For more. For warmth's return.

His posture srtaightened. A deep breath flowed out his nose, as he closed his eyes.

"Okay, Butter Roll Cookie. Keep it together. Don't scare the poor thing."

He muttered while walking away.

I rolled my head to the side. He stopped by another table. This one covered in papers and documents.

Butter Roll...

Was that his name?

He shuffled a few papers around, scanning them. As he did, he started bouncing the slightest bit. His tone changed to a happier, more excited one.

"This is a scientific breakthrough! An amazing wonder! I can't believe this worked! Especially without using the..." He trailed off.

Butter Roll's head snapped around, his gleaming eyes met mine.

I stared back. Still processing. Shivering.

"Oh, how insensitve of me...!"

In an instant he was back by my side. Examining me in starstruck wonder. Was I so special?

My gaze never left him, with him being the only thing in the room, that's of interest to me.

Warmth returned to me, when he tenderly carressed my cheek. Again, my shivers stilled, as if contented by the experience. Sure, it was only my face, but that was better than nothing. It was all I knew at that time, so I was satisfied.

"My goodness, you're so cold... I've never seen this in another cookie before."

He touched my forehead. Then my hands.

All the while I just raveled in his warmth. How it seemed to seep from his dough into mine. Making my dough feel less heavy - more alive.

But the cold table...

Again, he retracted. Much to my dismay.

"Hold on. I should get you a blanket. Don't fret! I will be right back!"

He left my field of view. All head-craning couldn't change it.

No...! Don't go!

I heard the same clicking-sound again. A short squeak. Another click.

Silence.

Why? Why would he leave me? In the cold? Shivering? Bound.

I resume my writhing, regardless of how much it pained my appendages. The cold was uncomfortable. I wished to escape it. To be free from it. My dough yearned for movement. Nearly bursting with energy. But the cold slowly sapped this energy back out of me.

I hated that.

Freedom. Movement.

Why did he get to be free? And I didn't?

Why could he move as he pleased? And I couldn't?

I didn't understand.

I never learned to understand, as I was left alone in that sterile room, shivering within my bounds.