#cookie run kingdom fanfiction

[acim-ed-ortsac]

I made a comic for my Overseer AU! Enjoy!

[azukanacrown]

"Tʜᴀɴᴋ Yᴏᴜ."

Pᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Bᴜʀɴɪɴɢ Sᴘɪᴄᴇ Cᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ & Gᴏʟᴅᴇɴ Cʜᴇᴇsᴇ Cᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ

Sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Gᴏʟᴅᴇɴ Cʜᴇᴇsᴇ Cᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ ɪs sᴛᴜᴄᴋ ʀᴇᴍɪɴɪsᴄɪɴɢ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇɴ'ᴛ ғᴜʟʟʏ ʜᴇʀ ᴏᴡɴ.

Tᴀɢs: Aɴɢsᴛ, Hᴜʀᴛ ɴᴏ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ, Sᴏᴜʟᴛɪᴇs?

Wᴏʀᴅs: 2860

Lɪɴᴋs: AO3, ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ, ᴄᴀʀʀᴅ

Iɴsᴘᴏ! Cʜᴇᴄᴋ ɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ! by @the-alpha-doodle-dome

Golden Cheese Cookie grimaced at the memory of frenzied screams and the sound of bones crushing. She rubbed the bright red gem between her fingers, reminding herself of its smoothness, a trait that was a stark contrast to its owner. She sat on her throne, mouth resting against her palm as she focused more on her thoughts than the cheesebirds around her, giving their regular report.

“Your Majesty?” One of the birds tapped her ankle gently, she jumped. “I apologize for startling you, Your Majesty, but you seem distracted. Should we come back another time? This week’s reports are nothing interesting, the soul-cheeses are still stable.”

She sighed before nodding. “Yes, that… yes, that would be good. Thank you for your hard work, Little One.” The image of a small Kulfi child flashed in her mind. “Please don’t take my inattentiveness as offensive.”

The little bird chirped happily, “Never, Your Majesty! But for now, we’ll be excusing ourselves. Let us know if you require our assistance anytime!” She smiled at them, nodding in acknowledgement. The three of them hopped away, and she waited till they exited the room before melting into her hands. The Soul Jam cold against her cheek.

After her final battle with Burning Spice Cookie in Beast Yeast, she thought he had been defeated. He hadn’t shown his face for some time, and his lands seemed to have become more peaceful—as peaceful as a nation obsessed with war and power could be. But one day, a cloaked figure stumbled onto her kingdom’s grounds.

He was mangled, covered in bruises and deep, untreated gashes, his arm clearly broken in several places. There was still jam dripping from his cloak and his poorly wrapped bandages. His Soul Jam was the only thing seemingly untouched.

Golden Cheese Cookie stood up from her throne, leaving to roam her empty kingdom.

“Thank you.” He held her face, smearing warm jam onto her cheek.

She stiffened, clutching the Soul Jam. She shouldn’t feel bad for such a monster; with everything he’d done, it was only what he deserved. But how he looked at her when finally he found her was… conflicting. He had that wild, sinister smile she had known him to have, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They gazed at her with affection, or familiarity, maybe even love; his brows weighed heavily on his countenance, and the dark bags under his eyes only deepened his stare. He seemed desperate to see her.

She stared down at his Soul Jam; it looked as if the light it emitted was swirling, and she found herself unable to look away. The soft sound of children giggling, followed by a deep chuckle, warmed her ears. She couldn’t help but close her eyelids, as, for some reason, tears were burning at her waterline. In that moment of darkness, she saw glimpses of small kulfi children, happily holding up bundles of flowers to her. A rarity in the Land of Spice.

There was another deep chuckle as she… or the eyes of who she watched through, reached down to take the flowers. A large, red hand took a Saffron in hand before tucking it behind one of the children’s ears. Golden Cheese Cookie shook her head and looked back at the gem. It felt warm, and it was pulsing like a heart.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw visions like that. And she knew what they were, who they belonged to. It did nothing to ease her consciousness.

With no words exchanged, they started to fight. Burning Spice Cookie had rushed to attack her almost immediately, throwing his raggedy cloak away from him, which only allowed Golden Cheese Cookie to see more of the damage she had caused in the seconds before he was upon her.

Despite his condition, he was as lively as ever. Swinging his axe wildly, tearing open his partially healed wounds, and unbinding his bandages.

“Stop! Look at yourself, you’ll kill yourself doing this!” She wasn’t sure why she even cared to say that; maybe just seeing someone so desperate to continue fighting like that confused her. Given he didn’t care to absorb her powers when he first had the chance, she knew he had been there for her. Perhaps his vengeance just burned that deeply.

He only laughed manically like before, continuing to provoke and tease her as if they were just playing a game. It wasn’t the state of someone hellbent on revenge.

It wasn’t a difficult battle; she didn’t even have to use her new powers to defeat him. After a few slashes and solid strikes to his old wounds, he slowed down tremendously. She cracked him across the jaw with the flat end of her spear, ending the fight. Pressing her heel into his stomach, she anchored the tip of her spear on his Adam’s apple.

“Why are you here, Destroyer?” He laughed, the motion causing her weapon to dip into his throat.

“I missed you, Birdie. You left with such haste that we didn’t even get to our encore.” She glared at him, eying him with both suspicion and interest. He laid there, still smiling widely, staring at her almost expectantly. His eyes kept wandering over her form, going back and forth between looking her in the eyes and taking in the rest of her glory.

His grin slightly faltered when she pulled the spear away. “What are you playing at, Burning Spice Cookie?”

Golden Cheese Cookie sighed. She didn’t know what came over her in that moment, but she had decided to spare him. He was too weak to be of any real threat, so long as she kept her eye on him, and she couldn’t bring herself to kill anyone in such a pathetic state. No matter how much they deserved it.

She kept him locked up beneath the castle, routinely giving him food and water, which only grew into piles in the corner of his cell. He refused her help in every way, not even letting her close enough to examine his wounds. By now, they would’ve been heavily infected if it weren’t for the Soul Jam still lodged in his chest.

“Why is it there?” Golden Cheese Cookie asked out of nowhere, staring at him through the bars. His eyes glinted in the dark as he looked over his shoulder at her.

“Why is what?” He growled.

She gestured towards her chest, tapping it. “Your Soul Jam. Every one of us, even those other Beasts, has it embedded into something. But yours is baked into your dough.”

“What does it matter?” He grinned at her. “Why? Are you planning on taking it for yourself? Are you trying to figure out how to take it out of me without my death? Sorry to break it to you, but that simply isn’t possible. You’re welcome to take it, though, if you grant me another battle.” She rolled her eyes at his sadistic enthusiasm.

“That’s not it.” His smile turned to a scowl, and he turned away from her once again. “Why are you so intent on fighting? Surely, you must be bored with it by now.”

He let out a boisterous laugh. Burning Spice sighed, sitting there silently before groaning, “You understand nothing.”

“No, I don’t. For someone so callous, you speak only in riddles and expect me to be able to decipher them. I’m not an anthologist and you’re no poet, so what is it I don’t understand?”

He huffed a laugh, shooing her away like she was his servant. “I would think you’d know... leave me be.”

“No, you are going to talk.”

He sat there, his back still turned to her. She stood there, quietly waiting for a response or a shift in the thickness of the air. But the uncomfortable awkwardness only seemed to matter to her, as he continued to lie there breathing slowly and steadily.

“Answer me!” She smacked the cell, releasing an unrhythmic tune into the air.

“Don’t get too violent now, else you’ll resemble me too much.” He chuckled.

She gripped the bars, shaking them from the sudden weight of her body. “I am nothing like you! You are a disgusting tyrant and enthusiastically psychopathic! You’ve turned over kingdoms, nations that you made, entire lineages of cookies whose names are only remembered by those who aren’t yet dust! And even the dead have no rest from your wrath, their remains only fuel for your frenzy. So no, what is it that I’m supposed to understand from you?” She screamed at him.

Burning Spice sat up, fully looking her in the eyes. “I remember when I got upset about such menial things.”

Golden Cheese Cookie sat upon her perch overlooking the colosseum. Even the air itself was heavy with emptiness as the smell of the wind, slowly scraping away at the bricks, surrounded her. She wondered if one of Burning Spice Cookie’s kingdoms had an arena, maybe several of them did. She wondered if he sat like she was now, just looking at the memory of what was meant to be a lively place.

“I’m nothing like him.” Abruptly standing from her spot, she quickly exited the building.

She wasn’t sure how long she kept him down there. It might’ve been days or months, even. But time was always something she let slip by, even before all this. After the war, there was no reason to worry about what day or year it was when there were no more cookies left to live it.

His Soul Jam pulsed in her hand, drawing her attention. It was beating rapidly and was on the verge of burning her fingers.

“My Lord, what happened to the Paprika Isle?” A small child’s voice spoke up.

“Hmm?” She… he looked down at them.

“Paprika Isle. I haven’t heard from my friend there in a little while, and when I went to look for them, it was like the whole village up and vanished. Is… my friend okay?” The child squeezed Burning Spice’s hand as they walked through his Saffron reserve.

Flashes of screams and raging fires flashed within her mind, as she saw memories of the village being ravaged. An onslaught brought on by another tribe.

He sighed. “They have moved on, there was no longer any water for their crops, and they’ve been going through some troubling harvests. So, they have moved further out for more fertile lands.” He spoke measuredly.

“Oh.” The child looked down. “Will I see my friend again?”

Burning Spice Cookie squeezed his hand. “I’m sure you will, Little One.”

The child smiled up at him, a face that distorted into a gruesome image as he stood above him, axe in hand.

Abruptly sitting up in bed, Golden Cheese Cookie held her silk sheets, trying to catch her breath. She looked over to their Soul Jams, lying next to one another. Whipping it off her bedside counter, she grabbed Burning Spice’s Jam and held it in the air. She heaved; she could feel the trembling of her arm in her ribs with every breath she stole.

She sighed. Dropping her arm. Golden Cheese stared at it lying in her lap, as it pulsed rapidly.

“Why won’t you answer me!” She shouted, hitting the bars. “You were so eager to speak when we first met, and now here you are, battered and pathetic—and silent! Why aren’t you speaking?” It was driving her crazy. He shows up after how long, seeking her out, trying to kill her, yet he won’t even talk if it isn’t in the heat of battle.

“Does it make you feel better to ignore me?” She snarled. “You can’t beat me in battle, so instead you choose to behave like a child! Your people fear you. Fear for their lives, their people. And yet, you are nothing but an overgrown child throwing tantrums because you’re bored.” Her words did nothing to make him face her.

“They needed you! You were their god; you created everything they knew, everything they could ever need or want. But you couldn’t stand to look your own failure in the eyes. They needed you and you abandoned them!” Golden Cheese Cookie gripped the bars, heaving. Her heartbeat was so loud in her ears, it was like an earthquake in her skull.

“As did you.” She looked up at him, expecting some sinister smile that wasn’t there. He was sitting there, staring at her, watching her in this moment of weakness with not a single ounce of joy or sadistic satisfaction. “I was made first, alongside my Soul Jam.”

“What?”

“I am answering your question… from before,” his eyes wandered from hers, “I was made to embody my Soul Jam. At any moment, you or any of the other holders could abandon your power. But I am my Soul Jam, I am nothing without it.”

“You don’t even deserve it.” She pushed herself away from the cell.

“Hmm.” He subconsciously nodded. “I know.”

That was the night before he broke out of his cell. She was in her study, looking over the reports her cheesebirds had gathered from Wizard Cookie, trying to familiarize herself with his extensive notes, when Burning Spice Cookie broke in. Dragging her by the wings, he threw her outside, where they once again fought.

He had the upper hand at first, having taken her by surprise. And of course, he was sure to egg her on. Taunting her with her failures, burning away some of the notes he had swiped from her desk when he pulled her away.

“You think you can bring them back with this? They’re gone! They are dead.” He smiled at her, pulling his axe from thin air, “You should be thankful, though, for if they were still in this crumbling tomb, I would’ve made you watch me tear each and every one of them apart.”

Golden Cheese Cookie snarled, aiming her spear forward. “It’s time for you to stop talking.”

Their battle was gruesome, more so than their first when he disfigured her. She was sure to break every bone she came in contact with, and he tore every inch of flesh he touched. With his axe, his claws, and his teeth. Buildings around them collapsed to the ground as they crashed into them, something that she would have to grieve later.

Once again, they found themselves where it started. Him on the ground and her spear to his throat. But this time she was seizing, his knuckles ghost-white as they gripped the staff of her spear. She thought her eyes might burst out of her skull from the pressure building in her ears.

He was smiling up at her, but it wasn’t the wide, sinister grin he usually carried. It was like he was just happy to see her.

“Nothing to say?” Golden Cheese Cookie growled, pressing the tip into his neck, drawing his jam. “How many times are we going to go back and forth like this?”

“We don’t have to. You know that.” He said.

“You—why?” Her weapon trembled in her hands as she looked him in the eye. Despite having more than enough time to counter her, he did nothing but continue to lie there. “Why can’t I—rrgh, you deserve to die! You’re a plight to this world, you’re worth nothing!” She spat at him.

“I know.” She gasped as he swiped upwards, grabbing her wrist and pulling her forward.

“What are—”

Crrr—the crunch was loud as her blade cut into his throat. Gurling on his own jam, he still laughed. His heavy hand weighed hers down as they fell to his Soul Jam. Slowly; he brought his other hand up to cup her face. An action she was too stunned to reject.

“Thank you.” He held her cheek tenderly, a gesture she couldn’t imagine would come from him despite the warmth smearing her face.

She sat there for a long time. Next to his lifeless body. Her hand still on his Soul Jam. That was when his memories flashed in her mind for the first time. Of him gripping the fiery sands to grab any bit of his crumbled people, to hold them close to him. Her mind flipped between her delicate fingers and his monstrous claws; the crumbs of their treasures were dry in her hands. Of him running to rush children away from floods, and earthquakes, and erupting volcanoes. Images of hordes of monsters spun around in her psyche, rushing in, destroying homes, and tearing apart her people. Of the first time he struck his axe against his own. The jam warm on his hands.

Her screams echoed into the night as the visions tormented her, even after moving away from his body.

Golden Cheese Cookie shuddered, as again she sat in her throne listening to her cheesebirds give their report. She buried him in the garden. He didn’t deserve it, but it seemed like the only appropriate place to put his body. His Soul Jam sat in her palm, as always. Now the memory of him and of all those he carried fell solely onto her to remember.

ᴀ/ɴ. Lᴏᴡᴋᴇʏ, I'ᴍ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs ᴀ ᴍᴜʟᴛɪ-ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғɪᴄ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ I sᴛɪʟʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜɪs ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ, I ғᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ᴘᴜᴛ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪs. Aʟsᴏ I ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴜɪɴ ʏ'ᴀʟʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ sᴀᴅ ᴀss sʟᴏᴡ-ʙᴜʀɴ :)))

[sleepingsphinxs]

praying upon the doomed love gods for support and angst as I write this next chapter (bring a box of tissues with you)

Next chapter should be out sometime this weekend!

[lonelytundramother]

Do I Look Like Him?

A CRK fanfic about my PureCacao fanchild. If you wanna see more stories about her, please let me know! I like showing off my OCs.

This is a bit on the angstier side but nothing too bad. It’s mainly just her thoughts though.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A cold breeze wafted through the halls of the dark and gloomy Citadel as the princess wandered, but that didn’t bother her in the slightest. She may have been born under the beautiful warmth of the sun in the Vanilla Kingdom, but she had been raised in the harsh, eternal winter that occupied the Cacao Kingdom. She could handle a slightly chilled breeze, even if she wasn’t in the attire that usually kept her warm. She didn’t have any time to bother changing right now anyways. She didn’t care if anyone around here saw her in her nightly attire. Most of the citizens of the Cacao Kingdom had seen her when she still was just a young girl, dressed in Vanillaian attire that clashed against the darkness of the kingdom so greatly. Nothing could embarrass her after having dealt with that for the majority of her childhood.

She felt her feet blindly guide her through the halls she’d wandered through all of her life. She knew she would get to where she wanted to be eventually. And after what felt like an eternity of walking through the depressing halls, she did finally see what she wanted to. In the area right behind her father’s throne was a portrait larger than the throne itself, hidden behind curtains that she had pushed to the side mere moments ago. She knows the piece was made long before she was even a thought in her parents’ mind.

If she ignored what the contents of the painting were, she would say that it was a beautiful portrait of a family. But she couldn’t ignore what the painting was. It was a depiction of her father and papa sitting beside each other, a smile on both of their faces, even if the one on her father’s face was small and almost unnoticeable. But her parents weren’t the part of the portrait that irked her. No, it was the young cookie that was being held on her father’s lap that always caught her attention and made her question everything.

The young cookie portrayed was probably no more than eight years of age when the portrait was done. He looked like a spitting image of her father. By the Witches, the boy had a wooden sword in hand in the photo and wore royal attire! It was obvious to anyone that viewed the painting that he was Dark Cacao’s son! However, to those with a keen eye, there were hints of Vanillaian heritage that you could spot through his features. In a way, the boy in the painting was a miniature Dark Cacao with enough features from Pure Vanilla to make him distinct. To make him princely enough. The perfect combination of two kings, some would argue. From what she knew, he was their pride and joy. He was their firstborn. He was their son. And yet, despite being the child they had decades after him, she had never known of him.

She had only recently found this painting. If she had to guess, it was about two weeks ago when she discovered it. She had known immediately who the little cookie in that portrait must be. Yet she never knew him. She had no name to associate with the cookie that she had recently discovered was her older brother. She had no idea what he looked like now. She only had a glimpse into the past that had told her of his existence.

The painting made feelings of betrayal rise within her. Why had her parents never told her of his existence? Why had her parents always seemed to act like she was an only child? Who was he? Did he grow to look more like their papa rather than their father? Did he know she existed or was he also left in the dark? Would he ever want to meet her? She wanted answers.

As she wandered her way back to her room, she silently wondered to herself some more. She wondered if she and her elder brother looked anything alike. If the portrait was anything to go off of, the answer was probably no. She had always looked more Vanillaian with Cacaoian features. From his look in the portrait, he looked more Cacaoian with Vanillaian features. But looks didn’t matter honestly. She was more curious if he and her were similar in any other ways. Did they have the same hobbies? Did they both sneak treats when father wasn’t looking? Did they both have the secret affinity to want to be a healer rather than a warrior? Was his name similar to hers? She wishes she had the answers she wanted, but all she had were more questions. All that riddled her mind was questions about him.

She opened the door to her room and immediately headed for her closet. Though, she paused for a moment when she walked by the mirror. She glanced at it–at herself–for just a mere moment. Only a singular thought ran through her mind at that moment.

Do I look like him at all?

She let out a quiet sigh, forcing herself over to her closet. She opened the doors and rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for. A set of dark blue robes with golden accents. It even had a hat to match it. She loved the look of it. She would’ve worn it far sooner, if it weren’t for the fact she had stolen it from her papa’s closet long ago and did not want to have a talk with him about it.

She gently set it on her bed before she took off her nighttime wear. Her eyes wandered over her still soft and young dough, looking at the areas where she should’ve had scars from a fight but didn’t. Proof that her papa had healed her, despite whatever protests father gave about her needing scars to remember the battles she fought.

… she thinks that she’ll miss her papa the most.

Hopefully she won’t be gone for too long. But who knows, she may be gone longer than intended. She doesn’t particularly care how long she’s outside of the Citadel. She needs answers to her questions. She needs to know. She wants to seek out whatever information can currently be given about her elder brother. She needs to try and find him. She needs to try and speak to him. She needs to know him, even if he only allows her to know him for a moment. She needs to know. She needs to find the answers she seeks.

She looked behind her at the closed gates of the Citadel and the snow piling atop her home. She took it in for one last time, knowing deep down that it’d be a long while before she ever saw it again. Once that moment was over though, she continued forward in her new and much less warm attire. She knew where she needed to go first for her answers. She needed to go to the place her father had nightmares about. She needed to go to the place where the truth no longer mattered. She needed to get to the place where lies ruled above all. She needed to get to the place that housed the Beast of Deceit.

Dark Vanilla needed to get to the Spire of Deceit. That’s where she’d find the answers she seeked.

[kvneho1nc]

I don't think it's healthy how I stare at Shadow Milk and decide that he's unhappy.

But it just makes sense??

Especially when you consider that he was close to Mystic Flour and Burning Spice until yk... But I also do like the idea of Shadow Milk having personally given Pure Vanilla his soul jam.

Especially with how teasing Shadow Milk is, constantly doing mental gymnastics with him, nicknames, metaphorically poking the bear and abusing his power on his people.

I think Pure Vanilla forgives him, says that no matter how bad he acts or how mean he is. He's still someone deserving of love. He didn't hurt people just because after all, Shadow Milk does things for a reason. Not just for nothing.

Shadow Milk knows he's struggling, he knows that he can't change immediately and we'll... Pure Vanilla had always been a patient king.

ORRRR MAYBE IM LOOKING TOO DEEP ONTO THEM!!!

[choco-raspberry]

Dark Caca typo help T>T

(hes very tired in this chapter)

[samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires]

Here y'all go!! :D

My first fic in the Cookie Run Kingdom Fandom!! :D hope y'all enjoy <33

[redpaintsplatter]

Hii here’s chapter two of AlmondBread

Chapter 3 is in the works currently! Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Familiar Feelings

After a short but loving car ride and an odd way to smuggle someone into a building and up an elevator, the two now stand in Almond’s apartment. It’s a tad messy and got an old 70s feel to it. The couches are fruit leather and the rug is a weird pattern. Every piece of furniture is covered in wood or dark paint. It’s uniform, and warm. Far more comforting than the bright whites and grays that Shortbread saw in prison. The overhead lights weren’t even being used, it’s dim candles and lamps that lit each room. It’s a very welcomed and wanted change. It didn’t take long for Shortbread to make himself at home. He kicked off his shoes which Almond neatly put away by the door almost immediately, then he flopped down on the couch. His comfort didn’t last long though.

“Please at least clean yourself before you lay on my furniture. I can only imagine how filthy your prison cell was.” Almond nagged, he didn’t enjoy it but he had to keep that furniture nice.

“Ugh, ya serious? I just got back from Magic City prison and I can’t get a moment of relaxation?” Shortbread rolled his eyes but got up, doing as he commanded.

“I’m stealing your clothes then!” He shouted before walking off to the bedroom.

Almond knew he was going to do that, hell he even knew he was going to say that. He didn’t mind. It was cute to see Shortbread wearing his clothes. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. All the shouting he did was funny to him. They’re always on the same track; agreeing on most things. But, Shortbread always feels the need to yell it out like it’s an argument. Almond is convinced Shortbread can’t stand compromise, always feels like he has to be right. It’d be annoying if it wasn’t so dorky.

After Almond got lost in thought about the shorter cookie he seemed to appear right in front of him. Almond jumped back a little, startled by his sudden appearance. Shortbread was cleaner now and in different, softer, clothes. He’s very comfy but he’s not going to admit that. He doesn’t need to. It’s obvious. His new clothes add to the homey feeling of Almond’s apartment. Hopefully this visit will be much longer than his last one. As soon as things get normal for them they’re ripped apart. But now isn’t the time for the two to start worrying about that. Shortbread brushed off the looming thoughts and then spoke once more.

“Now can I lay down, you big baby?” He rolled his eyes and did so without even waiting for a response.

It’s not like he was going to get a No. In fact Almond laid down right on top of Shortbread. He used his chest as a pillow and naturally Shortbread’s arm wrapped around Almond, pulling him closer. A giddiness shot through both of them. Bringing a wide smile to Shortbread's face. He’s trying to force a straight expression but it’s not happening. His attempt was so cute to Almond, and pathetic, frankly.

Then suddenly it seemed like one of Almond’s hands just appeared on his cheek. His hands caressed him, feeling the crack on his cheek. That was new. Almond sat up with a new worried expression. His thumb kept tracing the crack. Everytime he did, Shortbread winced quietly.

“Aye… take it easy wouldja ‘mond? You’re hurtin’ me..” Shortbread muttered.

He was a little annoyed by all the touching until he looked at Almond's face. His then formed into a similar worried expression.

“I’m alrigh’! You know I’ve been through worse!” He forced out a little chuckle. His voice was quick and unsure sounding.

That didn’t soothe or calm Almond’s thoughts. His hands moved down gently to examine Shortbread's arms since they were already exposed. He hadn’t noticed all these cracks before when he saw him again. Sure some have been there but a lot must be new. It makes him wonder what he's been through since the last time they were together. It’s bad enough he always has to leave eventually... but seeing him hurt more each time… that was devastating.

“What happened? Who cracked your dough?” Almond spoke with a firm tenderness. He demanded an answer but was trying to be as gentle as possible.

Shortbread scoffed, “Who do you think? People. Cops, prisoners, prison guards. You name it. Can you ease up now? I’m fine. That hurts—“ He winced again.

“I wish you’d stop treating this as something so minor. Something could be seriously wrong. Tomorrow I’m having a doctor look at you.” Almond laid back down and slid his hand underneath Shortbread's shirt.

“I don’t mean to make you sound weak. So before you get pissy with me don’t take it that way. I’m just concerned. I…love you. I love you a lot. I can’t stand the idea of bad things happening to you and I have no way to prevent or stop it!” He forced himself to stop talking before he’d make himself and the blonde upset. He didn’t want to sour this moment. They’re at peace, he can make a big fuss some other time.

Shortbread smiled a little. Hearing those words created a symphony of music in his mind. He can ignore everything else he’s said and forget how he felt about it now that he’s said those three precious words. Without thinking, besides about the “I love you”s, he gently placed his hand over Almond’s head and guided it back down onto his chest. He held him a little closer after that. Almost as if he’s reassuring him with his touch. Things he’d never be able to say verbally all can be done through his hands. To most he speaks with his punches. To Almond it’s caressing, petting, hugging, touching, fixing. All these things that make him less barbaric than how he is on the streets. It’s a beautiful change. As soon as he comes inside this stray dog goes from feral to domestic right away. All thanks to him.

Almond smiled as he was pushed back down. His lover's hands were all he desired when he was away at prison or lost out on the streets for months. He wished he’d stop running and hiding from everyone including him. Maybe then he’d avoid all the injuries. Maybe then his hands wouldn’t be such a luxury. They’d be a little more common, until he’s dragged away again. While he’s being held he still can’t help but worry. That leads him to gripping onto Shortbread’s shirt. Shortbread notices this and opens his mouth to speak, struggling to find the words at first but eventually they come out.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leavin’. Stop focusing on the future so much and focus on me. What we do now. …..Okay?” Shortbread muttered. He was surprised with how nice that sounded.

That actually took Almond by surprise too. He just nodded along with what he said. No reason to reply since he can clearly read his mind. So instead he reached back and draped a blanket over the both of them. The warmth engulfed them, making them feel safer. Shortbread was so tired. He couldn’t fight his exhaustion much longer. He hates being the first to fall asleep. Makes him paranoid, usually. But right now he feels as if it’s better if he did fall asleep first. Almond would take care of him. He has someone to lean against again. He has his support. With knowing that his eyelids slowly close. He mutters something not very audible to Almond as he drifts asleep. Almond just nodded along to whatever he said and then began to caress his hair. His hand went through his hand then slowly moved down to hold his cheek. Almond sits up a little to then bring the side of Shortbread’s sleeping face closer to his mouth. He began to press a few kisses into his forehead and then his cheek. As kisses moved down to his jaw he smiled widely and just admired the beauty before him. The ruggedness of his lover. How it doesn’t match what’s on the inside at all.

Almond eventually stops and slides off of him. He bends down a little and then scoops him up in his arms with a bit of struggle. This was a lot easier when they were younger. He groaned softly as he hauled the brittle cookie away and into his bedroom. Almond opened the door with his foot then gently placed Shortbread on the bed. He pulled the covers out from under him then tucked him in. He scooted in on the other side of bed then pulled him in close. He spooned him before eventually falling asleep. He didn’t expect to sleep so fast, he wanted to cherish this moment more before doing so. Oh well, each little moment counts, but he can’t fully appreciate it unless he’s properly rested anyways

[kitsunecrows]

the words are soft, sweet, comforting…

and wrong.

alt order. *snap*

[lazilybeinglassie]

Silly Little Dummy (Shadow Milk x Reader)

CW: Hypnosis, possessiveness, bad ending

You get what you read and you read what you get, this is your only warning!

The halls were endless. Stairs with no beginning or end. You had no way of navigating the chaos. You were so certain you found a way out, only to be tricked by those minions of Shadow Milk.

Of course you had to screw up and find your way trapped in this hell hole. Why couldn't you have left with the others.

After a couple of turns however, you found yourself at a dead end. Frustrated, you hoped to turn around and try again. Only for a familiar face to appear in front of you.

"My my, what do we have here~?"

Reflexively, you stumble back, hitting the wall behind you. Fear crawling through your skin as you stare wide eyed at the beast. His expression delightful as though he were playing an innocent game.

"Another one of Silly Vanilly's buddies? Lost and alone? Strayed from the path?" Shadow Milk snickered darkly. "I will admit, amongst those on the list, I didn't expect you to show up. Ah well! That's what improve is for!"

Looking around for a way to slip away, you don't even notice the vines on the stone wall crawling out. In an instant they snag your limbs and hold you still as you struggle. You're growls of protest are not lost to the villain as he hovers closer.

"There's no need to fret. I'll give you such simple stage directions. All you need to do is listen and watch me."

His hand grabs your chin as he turns your face to look at him. Eyes making contact, you glare in defiance. As you watch him, you notice his bright eyes and how they seemed to be glowing. An intense, radiating glow that wasn't blinding, but it was distracting.

The pupils seemed to dilate a little, looking a little fuller than usual. Then they started to pulse. Rings of blue, white and black growing like ripples in water. At a steady beat, it continues on and on in a mesmerizing pattern. Ring after ring, you couldn't do anything aside from watching it continue.

Your heart beat slows, and your panic seems to diminish. What for? Aren't you in trouble? What was it that was calming you down?

Another pulse. You breathe calmly.

Shadow Milk hums. "There we are. No need for all that fuss. All that running just seemed to have worn you out, hasn't it?"

You stammered as you blinked. "Wh-No! I-"

He uses his other hand to shush you. "Shhhhhh. No more talking. Just listen and watch."

Another pulse. Your attention is drawn back to his eyes. The aura appearing bright and soft. You don't know why, but it's all so captivating in the moment. Blue, black and white, looping over and over and over.

Your body tenses when it feels something brush your cheek. "Listen closely. Listen to every word I say now. Focus on my voice and do not stray. Feel yourself drawn to my enchanting voice."

Another pulse. Your body relaxes. Shadow Milk's tone was gentle and sweet. Caressing your eardrums as you continue to stare. There was hardly anything else you felt like doing. Just staring into those eyes. Those captivating eyes.

Blue, black and white.

A small part of you tried to speak up. Not much came out. Stutters and noises. But hardly any words. "I- . . . uh, I . . . "

"Awwww, look at yourself. Trying to tell me something?"

"I . . . um . . . "

"Do you feel tired, perhaps? You've been running for a while now. So much running, so much worry. Doesn't it feel exhausting?"

The feeling of something holding your chin disappears. You don't look away from his entrancing stare. The beast's head nods, you mimic the movement. He giggles at that.

As that happens, the vines start to coil you more and more. Pulling you away from the wall as your wrapped in a cocoon of plants. Leaves start to fall off of them and scales start to grow. Changing into serpents that wrap around you from your shoulders to your feet.

Another pulse. You sigh as your body sinks into the cocoon.

"Just too many thoughts in that little head of yours. Crowding all that space up there." Shadow Milk places a hand on the top of your head. Then slowly strokes down the back soothingly. Once he pulls his hand away, he puts it back on top and repeats the motion. "Let them go for now. Little by little, piece by piece. Empty your mind for me."

Each stroke, you feel yourself settle and sigh. Your clouded mind, so fuzzy and blurry, starts to clear bits at a time. Parts where you were worried and scared start to fade away. Parts where you thought of escaping dim to nothing. Pure Vanilla. Gingerbrave. Strawberry. Wizard. White Lily. Those names slip from your consciousness one by one.

Shadow Milk grins as he tilts your face up. Looking deeper into his eyes, you feel as though the light had enveloped your vision. Endless ripples, colors bleeding into every direction. What once there were two pupils, now merged into one as they continue to captivate your mind.

Breaking eye contact, Shadow Milk floats genlty to your side. You remain focused in one direction as though he never left. But the beast leans close to your ear as he whispers to you softly.

"Nothing left in there now, huh?" You don't respond. "Why don't I take things from here? Does that sound nice?"

Absent mindedly, you whimper as though you want to say something. Whether it was a yes or a no, you couldn't tell.

"Oh I bet it sounds wonderful. You love hearing my voice, don't you?"

Another noise comes from your throat. "mmmmmhmmmmmm . . . "

"You don't mind my touch either. It makes you feel happy, right?"

Stroking your cheek, he looks to you for a reaction. You exhale and smile contently.

"There is nothing more you want to do that hear my voice and let me hold you close. Your mind is always open to me, and you always will obey my will. Because it's everything you could ever want."

Another pulse. Your will shatters.

It doesn't take long before your own eyes start to glow blue with their own ripples dancing inside. Looking dazed and empty, you stare at nothing as the colors claim what is left of you.

Shadow Milk grins in victory. "Much better, my dear."

The serpents slowly release you, placing your body standing up. You lean forward, slouching a bit, only to feel threads straighten you up.

"Now then, I believe we have an audience to appeal! You know your place, right?"

He strokes your chin. Leaning into the touch, you blush and melt. "Uh-huh."

Shadow Milk's grin widens. "Wonderful~!"

[acim-ed-ortsac]

Decided to post WIP concept art for the MC Overseer Cookie which is the player. Let me know which design you like.

Edit: If you didn’t see it in my reblogs, here’s the link to the finished product

[fanged-fanfics]

Ahh your dad pure vanilla was so adorable!! 😭

Could you write that but how would it look like when he's truthless recluse

☆ Villain and Violent, Infant and Innocent — Dad!Truthless Recluse & Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff, familial || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗��ˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When you first saw your dad in such a state, you were worried that he wouldn't recognize you. He seemed so vacant, so devoid of himself and lacking all the warmth he had before

ᯓᡣ𐭩 To your surprise, Truthless Recluse attached himself to you just as he would when he wasn't under foreign influence. He still stuck by your side, always hovering around you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When any other henchmen came close to you, Recluse would get between you two, making sure none of them got to close. He'd even remind you to take their words with caution

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He generally got more openly protective of you, physically stepping in when he felt you'd gotten yourself into a situation that could put you at risk or when he didn't trust the other

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Whenever you'd be getting ready to sleep, Recluse often offered to read to you. It's something you haven't needed since you were very young, but it's a familiar comfort that helped you feel connected to his new form

ᯓᡣ𐭩 May the heavens help any Cookie who tries to pick a genuine fight with you. Recluse immediately comes down on them, keeping them as far away from you as possible and making sure they remember not to try something so foolish ever again

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You'd sometimes search his gaze, trying to find the same dad you'd grown up with. Each time he could tell you were disappointed that he couldn't see you quite the same way he once did, and something in him ached every single time he saw your disappointed frown

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Though he doesn't quite say the comforting words he used to, Recluse will wrap you up in his cape all the same for comfort. Not even deceit could keep him from knowing you're his kid, and he'd still protect you with his life

[tacowacco]

˚₊‧꒰ঌ The Jester and the Princess ໒꒱‧₊˚

🌀 court jester!shadow milk x princess!(fem)reader

🌀 cw: obsessive themes, yandere themes, unhinged smc, mentions of arranged marriage, medieval time period (might not be 100% accurate), and possible ooc.

🌀 a/n: my longest fic yet, 2048 words :))! i hope you guys enjoy this as much i did writing it. inspired by romeo and juilet!! should i make a pt 2?

You were the daughter of one of the wealthiest royal families in Crispia, making you the princess of your kingdom. You were beloved by everyone in your realm due to your unwavering kindness, intelligence, and ethereal beauty. The citizens of your kingdom held you in high regard, affectionately referring to you as “Your Highness” and “Princess Y/n.”

“Father, what's this?” you asked as you accidentally tumbled, due to your inability to see anything because of the blindfold you were wearing.

“Open your eyes now,” your father excitedly says as he removes the blindfold. You blink a few times trying to regain your vision, until your eyes widen seeing a jester before you. 

“Tis I, your humble jester, here to brighten up your mood! Shadow Milk Cookie!” the mismatched-eyed, blue doughed jester said as he lowered his jester hat and bowed. 

“The famous playwright, poet, actor, and jester...THE Shadow Milk Cookie?” you blabber seeing the famous jester in front of you.

“My, my, my, I didn’t know the princess was such a huge fan of mine!” Shadow Milk says teasingly. Your face flushes immediately, and you quickly turn your face the other way embarrassedly. 

“Wait..is he our court jester, Father?” you ask.

“Correction, he is your court jester.” your father corrects you.

“Mine? Mine! My very own court jester!” you exclaimed, believing that this would bring some excitement to your otherwise monotonous royal life. Contrary to popular belief, being a member of the royal family wasn’t as thrilling as many imagined. In reality, your life as a princess was often dull and filled with tedious tasks.

— ˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚—

Shadow Milk truly enjoyed being your personal court jester; he delighted in watching you laugh at his jokes, become captivated by his theatrical tricks, and applaud every one of his performances.

You were different; you adored every single act of art he performed. Shadow Milk noticed how tenderly you looked at him, how your eyes would glisten while staring at him after he finished a play, and you truly adored him.

He admired you deeply—your gentle laugh, the graceful way you moved, and your unwavering kindness to those around you. You were not only beautiful but also perfect in his eyes. You possessed a unique charm and brilliance that no one could surpass or replace, even in the slightest.

He loved you. Love that made him claw at his own skin because he simply couldn't tear you out of his heart.

He despised how your precious smile made him weak in his knees, the sound of your voice as addictive as the finest wine, and your gentle laugh making his heart skip a beat. 

He needed you.

Not in a way a child needed a toy,

or a dog needed a bone but in the way the ocean needed salt.

A flower needs water and sunlight,

a heart needs blood.

When it came to you, an unfamiliar sense of greed overtook him; he felt a strong need to have you by his side—where you rightfully belonged. He wanted you all to himself, to worship you and treat you like the graceful deity he believed you were. His love for you bordered on obsession—he was truly obsessed with you.

He needed you to survive, but there was one problem: your social differences. You were a princess, the heir to the throne and he was a court fool. Yet, that didn’t stop him because he knew that deep down you too also loved him as much as he did.

You were looking at yourself in a mirror, trying the new dress your mother gifted you unaware of the jester lurking. You turned around again, letting a small yelp as you were met with the jester in front of you.

“Ah— Shadow Milk!” you yelped, before he placed a slender finger on your soft lips. Quietly shushing you, “How’d you get here?” you asked. 

“What can I say? I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he teases, noticing your beautiful gown. “My, my! What's this? I haven't seen you wear this gown before...” he coos, playfully fiddling with the hem of the dress.

“It’s new; my mother gifted it to me for the ball tonight. She told me that tonight's ball is a special occasion, and she’d like me to look more lovely than ever,” you say.

“I’m afraid that's impossible, my poppet. Everything you wear only enhances your beauty, which surpasses even the most beautiful flowers,” he says as he kneels on one knee and gently kisses your hand.

“Oh, you flatter me, my jester,” you say, looking down at him and gently cupping his face. You gaze lovingly into his eyes as you run your fingers through his dark blue hair. The moment is sweet and intimate. Suddenly, it comes to an abrupt end when you hear your mother calling your name, “Y/n? Y/n, are you here?” she calls out.

“Quick! You must go now!” You say, hurrying Shadow Milk. He quickly jumps out of a nearby window disappearing into the forest of green trees and flora. You quickly fix yourself before your mother opens the door, and comes in. 

“Who was that you were speaking to, dear?” your mother questions  

“Ah, nobody, don't worry about it dear mother,” you say awkwardly. 

“Oh Y/n, you can’t go to the ball looking like this. Here, sit down and I’ll brush your hair for you.” your mother says as she picks up a nearby brush and motions you to sit down.

Your mother hummed a tune as she gently brushed your long hair, running her fingers through the soft, silky strands. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, which highlighted both her beauty and yours.

“Such a lovely daughter I brought into this world,” your mother said, gazing lovingly into your eyes. “You’ve already grown into a woman.” 

“It feels like just yesterday that she was born,” your nurse remarked as she folded some laundry. 

“I hope to live long enough to see the day you get married and have children of your own, Lady Y/n.” Your Nurse said as she gently smiled at you.

“Tell me, my daughter, what are your thoughts on marriage?” your mother asks happily, tenderly holding your hands.

“I suppose I’ve never really given it much thought,” you respond sheepishly. Marriage hasn’t been something you’ve considered yet.

“Then take some time to think about marriage! Your father and I would love to see you happily courted while we’re still here,” your mother says excitedly. 

“Ah...I suppose I could give it some thought,” you say as you awkwardly smile. Your mother cups your face, “That’s more like it.” she replies as she leaves your bed chamber.

— ˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚—

Shadow Milk lurked in the crowd, observing as you danced with various people—unimportant side characters, in his eyes. He believed he should be the one dancing with you; it should be his hands touching yours, and all your attention should be focused on him. Those people didn't deserve your undivided attention; it should belong to him. They weren't worthy of being in your presence, of breathing the same air as you. Finally, after watching for a while, he had had enough.

Shadow Milk ruffles through the crowd of people, his identity hidden behind the mask he was wearing. He shoves through the crowd of people dancing, chatting, and having playful banter until he stops once he sees you. There you are, chatting with one of your cousins–an unimportant side character he thought. He walks forward towards you pushing your cousin aside before asking you, “May I have this dance with you, Your Highness?” 

The people nearby gasp and whisper among themselves, eagerly awaiting your response and next move. “Of course, why not?” you say, taking the masked gentleman’s hand. All attention shifts to the two of you as you make your way to the center of the dance floor. His right hand rests on your waist, while the other hand holds yours, guiding you gracefully. You both move sideways, your feet parting before coming back together. You accidentally stumble, but fortunately, the masked gentleman catches you and twirls you in an elegant manner that charms the onlookers and crowd.

Before ending the dance, the masked gentleman gently kissed your hand and walked away, leaving you captivated and wanting more. You stood there dumbfoundedly, watching as the mysterious man disappeared into the sea of people. Suddenly, something inside sprang and you hustled through the crowd of people chasing the man. 

Finally, out of breath, you caught up to the man. “Wait!” you say, breathing heavily. “I didn’t catch your name, mysterious gentleman,” you add.

“Don’t believe I dropped it,” he teases, turning around and placing his finger beneath your chin to make you face him.

“Who are you?” you ask, completely captivated by the charm of the mysterious masked man. You gaze deeply into his eyes, lost in a trance, until he leans in and kisses you softly. You pull him closer, embracing him in a gentle, passionate kiss.

You pull away and lift the mask off his face, gasping as you see it was your jester beneath the mask the whole time. “Sh... Shadow Milk? How did you get here?” you ask.

He cheekily giggles, “See my dear poppet, as a jester I have numerous tricks hidden beneath my sleeves. After all, a magician never reveals his secrets.” He says this as he prepares to climb down the balcony railings.

“Wait!--Shadow Milk..!” You holler, causing him to abruptly stop climbing down. “Yes, my princess?” he replies. You pull him closer kissing him. You two kiss plant kisses onto each other's lips.

“My, my, I didn’t know the princess had such a soft spot for me,” he teases, planting another kiss on your lips.

“How could I not? After all, you're my favorite jester,” you say, returning the kiss. He pulls away and begins to climb down, “Wait!” you say once more before planting a long, passionate kiss onto his lips. 

“Can’t get enough, can you? Your lips are sweeter than the sweet honey that comes from bees. They're so addicting, my lips seem to always miss their touch,” he says. 

“Lady Y/n!” you heard your nurse call out, “Coming!” you say before pressing one more kiss onto the jester’s lips. 

“Y/n? Y/n!” your nurse called out one more time, “Give me a second!” you holler as you finally press one last kiss onto Shadow Milk’s lips.

“Goodbye, Shadow Milk..I’ll see you again,” you say as you watch him disappear. 

“There you are, Lady Y/n! Your mother has been looking everywhere for you,” your nurse says as she appears behind you. "Your mother says it's time for bed."

"Alright, thank you Nurse." You politely reply as you enter your bedroom, thinking about your encounter with Shadow Milk. You flop onto your bed, giggling and kicking your feet at the memory of him and reminiscing about his gentle kisses and sweet words. Hugging a pillow, you roll over, repeating his name softly in your mind.

Your fingers brushed over your lips, recalling how his lip gently pressed against yours. You already missed his touch. Oh, how you loved him.

"Oh, Shadow Milk.." you reply to a lingering thought about your encounter with Shadow Milk.

— ˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚—

As soon as you woke up, your parents needed to inform you about some important 'exciting' news. You knew that meant nothing good.

“Y/n, your father has arranged for you to marry Count Pure Vanilla in four days’ time, as he has chosen you to be his wife and love,” your mother says immediately. Your heart drops, and you feel tears begin to prickle from the corner of your eyes.

“What? No! I will not marry him!” you say in a fit. 

“Y/n! You will marry him,” he says sternly. 

“No! No! Please father!” you beg.

“Y/n! I will disown you and throw you into the streets if you do not marry him,” he says in a fit of rage. You turn to your mother, and give her a look of hopelessness. "Oh, Mother please!" you cry, tugging the sleeve of her dress.

"Enough is enough. You are marrying Count Pure Vanilla, and that's the end of the story," your mother replies harshly as she drags you into your room, leaving you with your nurse. You tumble onto the ground, beginning to wail as your nurse leans over to comfort you.

"There, there, dear," she says, wiping your tears away. "Perhaps marrying Count Pure Vanilla is the right choice. He is the most desirable husband you could have." your nurse states.

But your heart belonged to Shadow Milk. Little did you know, you were always his to begin with.

[sleepingsphinxs]

gkajdshgjkasdhsdkjhlkhhdshakjdsh

I'm glad you're enjoying it!!! seriously your comments absolutely make my day

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/66964993/chapters/172864387 for anyone interested!)

[lunarsecret12]

🩵💙AWARENESS🩵💙

Banner by me :3

. ݁⋆˚🐾˖°shadow milk finds out he's actually in a game.... ݁⋆˚🐾˖°

══════════════════════════════

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶

As soon as shadow milk realized he was in a game and he wasn't real whatsoever. He started to try and see how far he could go without you noticing. For example any time you poked him he'd sometimes change his dialogue a bit or say something completely new or out of character. —you were oblivious and just thought it was a new update—

He was shocked at the realization that he was technically a puppet. HE was the one being tied to puppeteer strings? HE was the marionette? But he did find that actually kinda interesting. it was a plot twist, NOBODY would expect.

He loves when you actually decorate your Kingdom ESPECIALLY when it's HIS theme. He feels more appreciated whenever you do that. He won't admit that of course. But he DESPISES the pure vanilla theme or any ancients' themes he wants to ruin your whole kingdom when it's ancient themed but he can't because it would be too obvious.

Also he would go into your other apps. If you have any art apps he'd probably mess about with your drawings or add cryptic messages on them But VERY small so you don't realize. You have gacha? He'd make his own character then get rid of it and replace it with the past character it was on so you wouldn't notice. Have ANY notes app? He'd snoop through your things for fun. Have any texting app? He'd look at your messages and what you send people. When he sees your texting other people he gets jealous. Why wasn't all your focus on him?!

∧ ,,, ∧. Sorry for

( ̳• · • ̳). The short fic!! ✮⋆˙🕊️꩜ .ᐟ✮⋆˙🕊️꩜ .ᐟ

/ づ♡

[kvneho1nc]

“Am I to be desired?”

SHADOW MILK / PURE VANILLA

Enjoy!!!

“Am I all you have ever desired?”

Shadow Milk only stays silent, his hands trembling around his own staff. Brows stitched together with a slight sneer on his face. He hesitates, not wanting to acknowledge anything around them at the moment. His breath shaky as he tries to dissuade the other.

“You? Pft! You’re nothing to me. Is that a crime?”

“Your crime isn’t of deceit, is it not? Your crime is of attachment.”

Oh did he stare, the other floating in front of him as if roles had been reversed. Long hair, flowing around. Eyes still ever so gently boring into his soul… gods did Shadow Milk think of all the times that he craved those eyes to stare at him like he did in return. Feeling the ever enveloping warmth around him was so… so nice. Made him think for a moment, god did he miss this.

“Attachment? I don’t have one at all to anything!”

He lies. When has he not.

“Indeed, you always do say that. But now here you are… staring at me as if I’m some… ghost.”

“Well of course I’ll stare as such! You-“

“I never did die, just ascended.”

Shadow Milk is irked now. Eye twitching slightly as he huffs and looks away.

“Jealous?”

“Why would I be?”

Pure Vanilla laughs, cupping the other’s cheek with a small nod. Thinking how quaint he was, looking like this. Looking so adorable, jealous, lovely. He may not remember much… but he always would remember those eyes. Blue, teal, white, black, all the colors that made him… Shadow Milk. Blueberry Milk. Black Nightshade- Blue Himalayan- gods did he always just stare. Always has and will.

“Your look says it all, you really must get better at hiding it.”

Ouch. He’s deceit incarnate, how can’t he feign one simple look away? Or how cant he just admit to himself and lie to the other? Well, that would still be impossible. He was now standing with truth incarnate… and it made him feel safe. A little too safe. Almost enough to self-sabotage even though he always resorted to that. It was impossible to outwardly acknowledge the guilt pooling in his stomach.

Strange for a beast such as himself, isn’t it?

“Jeez, when you put it that way, you make me sound pathetic!”

“Aren’t you?”

Shadow Milk doesn’t dare acknowledge it, only sighing as he crossed his arms and floated around the other. Letting Pure Vanilla’s arm fall to his side, staff ( if it still had its eye, it would be rolling ) glowing a bit dim to show its feelings.

“I like it though. Reminds me of how nice you used to be.”

“You didn’t know me for that long.”

“I know. But it’s still curious to know how you changed… right?”

Nope, no acknowledgement. He only huffed now, putting his hand up to the ascended and floating right off and away… and it only made Pure Vanilla yearn even more.