0zozone

[0zozone]

I think this is literally the BEST fic i have ever read, GO READ IT

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 24

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You had just taken a bite of your pastry; still warm, the subtle sweetness of melon practically melting on your tongue when Chai Latte Cookie leaned in with that look. You knew that look.

“So…” she began innocently, twirling a strand of her hair around one finger. “Will the ever-elusive, breathtakingly mysterious, utterly unshakable Sage of Truth be joining us this morning?” 

You nearly choked. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low whistle, already smirking behind his cup. Earl Grey didn’t look up, but you could see the small upward twitch of his lips. You glared at Chai, cheeks warming. “We didn’t even see each other yesterday.” 

“Oh, I know,” she said breezily. “Which is exactly why I’m asking. Perhaps absence makes the heart grow bolder?”

“Don’t you mean fonder?” Hazelnut biscotti offered, raising a brow. 

“No,” Chai said with mock solemnity. “I meant what I said. This one’s bold now. I saw it. The way they held his hand like a seasoned romantic under the table the other day? The nerve.” 

You covered your face with your hands, groaning into your palms. “I’m going to walk into the sea.”

“There is no sea,” Earl Grey said mildly, buttering his second pastry. “But if there were, I imagine you'd still try.” 

Chai patted your shoulder, all too pleased with herself. “Don’t worry. We’re proud of you. Truly. But if you think for a second I’m not going to tease you every time he’s not around, you’re wrong.” You peeked out from between your fingers. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love me.” Unfortunately, you did. Still, despite the embarrassment, there was a warmth in your chest that hadn’t faded not since that day in the gardens, not since the quiet walk to dinner, not since the moment you caught yourself watching him with that soft, foolish smile on your face. 

No, he wasn’t joining you this morning. But the thought of him lingered all the same. You waited for the perfect beat just as Chai Latte Cookie sipped her tea, her eyes still dancing from the last quip she made about Shadow Milk and then you leaned in, casually, your tone light but unmistakably deliberate. “So,” you said, “is there someone you’ve been thinking about lately?”

Chai choked. A sputter of tea escaped her lips as she quickly reached for a napkin, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with as much grace as one could muster after nearly inhaling jasmine green. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie blinked. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice half an octave too high. 

Earl Grey Cookie raised a brow, ever observant. “They barely asked anything. You reacted as though they proposed on one knee.”

“I did not,” Chai huffed, cheeks just a touch too pink. “It was just them asking. I didn’t expect it.” You tilted your head innocently, sipping your own tea. “Why not me?”

 Chai stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a carefully constructed smile, she leaned back in her seat, twirling her spoon between two fingers. “You just don’t usually ask things like that,” she said smoothly. “Especially not first.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti leaned forward, clearly invested. “But it’s a good question. Is there someone, Chai?”

Chai waved him off with a groan. “Please, like I’d tell you.” 

You gave her a small smile, more sincere this time. “You don’t have to tell us. I was just curious.” 

Her eyes softened, and something flickered across her face brief, almost imperceptible. She reached for her teacup again, holding it between her hands like a shield. 

“…Maybe,” she murmured into the steam. “Maybe there’s someone. Or maybe I just enjoy a good story too much.” 

Earl Grey gave a quiet hum, sipping his tea like this was all immensely entertaining. Hazelnut Biscotti looked scandalized; he hadn't gotten a straight answer. But you just smiled, letting the moment pass. Because you saw the way her gaze lingered not on Hazelnut or Earl, but on you. And maybe she did enjoy a good story. Or perhaps she was just quietly waiting for hers to be written.

You rested your chin in your hand, watching the morning light glint off your tea. “I think we’ll get in,” you said, voice softer than expected, but certain. “All of us. The Spire, the labs we want… I really believe it.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie tilted his head, grinning. “You sound pretty confident for someone who almost got taken out by enchanted ice cream.” 

You rolled your eyes. “That was one time.” Chai Latte Cookie laughed, nudging your leg under the table. “Go on, then. Enlighten us. What do you think it’ll be like?”

You glanced at each of them, letting the thought build in your mind. “Big, obviously. But not in an intimidating way. More like… the kind of big that feels earned. The towers won’t just scrape the sky, they'll speak to it. Glass ceilings, enchanted railings, whole hallways that reflect constellations, maybe even floating staircases. It’ll feel alive.” 

Earl Grey Cookie raised a brow, intrigued. “You sound like you’ve seen the blueprints.” You smiled. “Maybe I’ve just dreamed hard enough.” There was a quiet moment before you added, “I want us there. Together. I want to sit with you all in some ridiculous sky-windowed study hall with piles of research and cups of bad tea and think…we made it. Not because someone handed it to us, but because we earned it. Because we never stopped trying.” 

Hazelnut leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, grinning. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“I’m serious,” you said, trying not to laugh. “We’ve all worked so hard. You, with your field reports and that time you got Professor Calamint to quote you-”

“Unintentionally,” Hazelnut Biscotti mumbled.

“Still counts,” you said. “Chai, your enchantments? I saw how the upper division students were in awe of your binding techniques.” Chai blushed, sipping her tea to hide it.

“And Earl Grey,” you continued, looking at him, “you’re probably already halfway to running your own department.”

He didn’t smile, not exactly but something in his expression shifted. A kind of quiet, thoughtful pride.

“I just mean…” You trailed off for a second, then looked back down at your tea, hands cupped around it. “I want it to be us. I want to build something with all of you. Not just research. A life.” 

Chai reached across the table, squeezing your hand. “Then let’s do it,” she said simply. “Let’s get in. All of us.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti raised his cup. “To windows in the sky and pineapple-free food experiments.” Earl Grey added, “To what comes next. And who we’ll become, getting there.”

You smiled, heart full. “To us. Always.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie squinted at you over the rim of his cup, dramatic suspicion written all over his face. “Okay,” he said slowly, pointing a croissant at you like it was a wand of truth.

“But seriously. Who are you and what have you done with the real you?”

You blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” he said, leaning back with a grin, “first you nearly cry over us doing research together like it’s the last scene in a tearjerker, and now you’re giving motivational speeches over tea. Are you… okay?”

“I’m great,” you replied, mock-offended. “I’m being heartfelt!”

“Oh no,” he said, gasping. “It’s worse than I thought.” 

Before you could retaliate, he reached across the table and dramatically placed his palm on your forehead. “Warm. Suspiciously warm. Someone check the pineapple ice cream. I think it’s still in their system.” 

Chai Latte Cookie laughed so hard she nearly spilled her tea. “Hazelnut Leave them be!”

“I’m just saying!” he protested, wagging his croissant like a lecturing professor. “Next thing you know, they’ll be asking us to hold hands and sing a unity song about the Spire.” 

You groaned, grabbing a napkin and chucking it at his head. “You’re unbelievable.” Earl Grey Cookie, unbothered, sipped his tea calmly. “If they do start singing, I’m leaving. Just for the record.”

“Rude,” you muttered, trying not to smile. Hazelnut grinned, victorious. “There’s the real you. All I had to do was poke the dramatics out.” 

You shook your head, finally laughing again. “Fine. No more speeches. But you’re all still stuck with me at the Spire.”

Hazelnut Biscotti gave you a mock salute. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Moments like these made you cherish what it meant to be mortal. Even as breakfast came to a close the laughter lingered in your memories.

The four of you trudged toward Professor Almond Custard Cookie’s lecture hall like prisoners marching toward a velvet-lined doom. Despite the laughter from breakfast still lingering in your chest, the energy had shifted to something sleepier, more subdued as if the early hour pressed down heavier now that the scent of fresh pastries had faded from the air.

Even Earl Grey Cookie, who normally carried himself with such relentless composure, rubbed at his eyes with a gloved hand as you rounded the corner. 

Chai Latte Cookie stifled a yawn beside you. “Do you think if we all collectively fall asleep, he’ll just… keep going?” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie groaned dramatically. “He’d probably take it as a compliment. ‘Ah, yes,’”

he said, imitating Almond Custard’s slow, droning cadence, “‘my voice so soothing, so powerful it guides even the most unwilling minds into the arms of dreams.’”

You stifled a laugh. “You know that’s exactly what he’d say.” Chai nodded solemnly. “And he’d still assign homework while we’re unconscious.” 

The lecture hall loomed ahead, filled already with the rustle of notebooks and the soft drone of students shuffling into their usual seats. You settled into yours automatically; second row, left side while the others filled in around you.

A few weeks ago, your stomach would’ve twisted just being here. Back then, your notebook was mostly blank, your confidence was hanging by a thread, and Professor Almond Custard had developed an uncanny knack for calling on you at the worst possible moments. But now?

Now your notebook had pages of real notes. Now you could follow the material not always easily, but with far less panic. And now, thankfully, the professor barely called on you at all. Whether that was out of mercy or satisfaction, you weren’t sure, but you’d take the reprieve.

Professor Almond Custard Cookie shuffled in at last, his robes rustling like pages of an old tome, and the class collectively slumped as he cleared his throat. 

“Good morning,” he intoned, voice as slow and honey-thick as ever. “Let us return to the topic of magical theoretical integrations and their applications in low-energy environments…” 

Hazelnut whispered behind you, “Wake me when he says something I need to care about.” You fought a grin and let your head tilt ever so slightly toward Chai Latte Cookie, who was already doodling sleepy stars in the corner of her notes.

Even Earl Grey Cookie didn’t pretend to look overly invested though his quill still scratched dutifully at his parchment, because of course it did. Your hand drifted to your own pen, and you began writing, a steady rhythm that helped keep your eyes from drifting shut. 

The class stretched ahead, dull and slow, but you didn’t dread it anymore. And somewhere in the back of your mind just beyond the sound of Almond Custard’s voice you wondered what Shadow Milk Cookie was doing now.

If he was working on his speech that was endlessly picked apart. If he thought about you the way you were thinking about him. You tapped your pen once against your notebook. Just a little longer, you thought. Then you’d see him again.

The rest of your classes passed in a kind of sleepy, sunlit haze the kind that made your notes a bit messier than usual, but your mind was just clear enough to carry you through.

The late morning hours melted into afternoon without resistance, and soon enough, the four of you were trailing lazily down the corridor together, lingering in the quiet comfort of post-class peace.

“I think I’m gonna head to the Scholar’s Wing,” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder and adjusting the strap with a small sigh. “Go see Shadow Milk for lunch.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie perked up with a grin. “Oh? A lunch date with the Fount of Knowledge himself?”

“Tutoring,” you corrected smoothly, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “I’ll just… check in on him. See how the speech prep is going.” 

Earl Grey Cookie gave a knowing hum, brushing a bit of dust off his sleeve. “Very considerate of you.”

“I brought snacks,” you added, patting your satchel. “I’m not planning to starve myself before dinner.” Chai Latte Cookie stepped in front of you without warning, hands already moving toward your collar. 

“Hold still,” she murmured, cupping your face, getting rid of any residual crumbs checking for anything that might be off.

“If you’re going to see him, you might as well look like you weren’t flattened by six hours of lectures.”

You blinked. “Do I look that bad?”

She gave you a soft smile, gently straightening a crease on your shoulder. “No. You look like you. Just… a slightly rumpled version.”

Her fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary before she stepped back. “There. Perfect.” 

Hazelnut rolled his eyes dramatically. “You’re sending them off like a lovesick noble in a romantic epic.” 

Earl Grey Cookie chuckled. “It’s the academic equivalent of sending a knight off to war.” You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was impossible to ignore. “You three are insufferable.”

Chai looked at you sweetly, “Don’t lie to yourself, you love us.” 

You didn’t argue. Just smiled, small and quiet, your heart full. “I’ll meet you all at dinner,” you said, starting to walk backward down the corridor. “If I don’t show, assume I’ve been buried under three feet of rhetorical edits.”

“We’ll bring a shovel,” Hazelnut called.

“And tea,” Chai added.

“And reason,” Earl Grey said with a smirk. “Though he may not listen.”

You waved them off, turning toward the familiar quiet of the Scholar’s Wing notes in your bag, nervous energy in your chest, and a little bit of magic still tangled in your hair where Chai had touched it. 

You approached the Scholar’s Wing with steady steps, though your heart drummed a little faster the closer you got.

The soft light that filtered through the tall arched windows of the corridor dappled across the polished floors like shards of daydreams quiet, golden, expectant. It always felt a little different, coming here with purpose. 

Not for tutoring, not strictly. Just to see him. You reached the familiar door, the one you’d memorized every detail of by now the precise polish of the brass plaque, the way the faintest hum of warding spells curled around the wood like mist.

You were early. You knew that. Technically, you didn’t need to knock Shadow Milk had said so once, long ago, in his typical way “Formality is a construct. But I’ll indulge it, if you must.” Still, your knuckles rapped gently on the door three soft taps, quick and careful. It wasn’t about permission, not really. It was a greeting. A ritual. You waited a beat. Then another.

No one responded at first, and for a moment you wondered if he might be buried in his work again, head down over a sea of ancient texts or that ever-growing speech draft. But then soft footsteps. A shadow passed under the threshold. The door opened. And there he was.

Shadow Milk Cookie stood with his usual composed grace, robes drawn neatly around him, one sleeve still slightly ink-smudged. His expression shifted the moment he saw you not with surprise, but with a softness that was almost imperceptible if you didn’t already know what to look for. “You’re early,” he said, voice low, calm. You gave a sheepish smile. “I know. But I wanted to see you.”

He blinked once, slow and unreadable. Then, he stepped aside. “Then by all means,” he said, and there was the faintest trace of something warmer in his tone, welcoming, even. “Come in.”

He didn’t say anything more at first just stepped aside as you entered, the soft fall of his robes brushing the doorframe. But something about it struck you. You tilted your head, giving him a sideways glance. “You usually don’t get up.” 

Shadow Milk Cookie raised a brow ever so slightly, hands folding behind his back. “Don’t I?”

“Nope.” You stepped further into the room, shrugging off your bag. “You always say ‘Enter’ like a command whispered through the walls. I’ve never actually seen you open the door yourself.” He looked at you for a long moment, then turned, walking back toward his desk with that same composed grace he always carried. “You arrived earlier than usual. I assumed it might be someone else.”

“Ah.” You nodded slowly, teasing, lacing your words. “So I’m not the only one gracing you with midday visits.” 

His glance flicked toward you again sharp, amused. “I didn’t say that.” You smiled, folding your arms. “So who did you think it was?” 

He paused, adjusting a few scrolls on his desk. “Perhaps I hoped it was you.” Your breath caught just briefly and then his voice softened. “But if it hadn’t been… I imagine I would’ve been disappointed.” 

You blinked. You paused, your fingers hovering over the back of the chair across from him, the seat you always took.

The one for students, for questions, for careful study beneath the ever-watchful gaze of the Sage of Truth. But something about it didn’t feel right today.

Instead, you stepped around the desk, dragging the chair slowly, deliberately, to his side. The soft scrape of wood against stone echoed through the quiet room as you brought it next to his, tucking it just so close enough to feel the space shift, the atmosphere soften. Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t speak, but you could feel his gaze on you, sharp and observant, as always.You didn’t meet his eyes right away. 

You just settled beside him, folding your hands in your lap. “Thought I’d try sitting here today,” you said lightly, though your voice wavered at the edges. “If that’s alright.”

There was a beat of silence just long enough for you to wonder if you’d overstepped. Then, softly, “It’s more than alright.”

You turned your head to look at him then, and for once, he wasn’t wearing the mask of the Fount of Knowledge. No distant air, no carefully crafted distance. Just Shadow Milk, sitting beside you, his gaze softened into something gentle. You offered a small smile, and he nodded once, slow and sure. 

And just like that, the space between you wasn’t for questions and answers anymore. It was just for you.

You sat a little straighter in your chair, glancing sideways at him, watching the way his attention lingered half on you, half on the open scroll he had yet to properly acknowledge since your arrival. A quiet moment passed, and then, you cleared your throat gently.

“So,” you said, nudging your shoulder slightly toward his, “are you planning to eat lunch? Or are you just going to subsist on ink fumes and scholarly resolve?”

He let out a breath, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. “That was the plan,” he murmured, eyes still focused ahead. “But your tone suggests disapproval.” 

You smiled, pleased. “Deep disapproval. Shame, even.” He turned to look at you then, one brow arched in that signature, inquisitive way. “I see.” 

You reached down and pulled your bag into your lap, flipping open the flap with a rustle and revealing the contents with a small flourish. “Lucky for you, I came prepared.” Inside were perhaps more than reasonably necessary snacks. Wrapped treats, dried fruit, a half-loaf of sweetbread from the dining hall, and two little jars of preserved jam nestled among napkins and spoons.

“I brought provisions,” you said, very proudly. “Just in case I got hungry. Or, you know, in case you needed a reason to not forget about basic mortal needs.” 

He looked at the collection, then at you, then back again. “You planned for this?”

“I plan for many things,” you said solemnly. “Hunger emergencies are high on the list. Especially in rooms where you lose track of time and forget meals exist.” 

A small, fond smile tugged at the corners of his lips, subtle but real. “I should’ve known,” he murmured. “You’re quite difficult to out-prepare.” 

You held out a wrapped bit of sweetbread like a peace offering. “Accept the mortal offering, O Fount of Knowledge.” His eyes narrowed just slightly amused. And then, with a quiet, almost reverent motion, he took it from your hand. “I suppose I’m convinced,” he said. “Just this once.”

You grinned. “That’s all I ask.” And for a few moments more, the two of you sat in gentle silence, sharing quiet laughter and sweeter things, the air lighter than it had been moments before.

You leaned back slightly in your chair, nibbling on your snack as the thought came to you casual, light, and maybe a little mischievous. 

“So,” you began, tone playful, “what’s your favorite flower? And which do you think you’d embody?” Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t look up from the parchment he was annotating, but you saw the faint lift at the corner of his lips. “A curious question for a midday visit.”

“Come on,” you prodded. “It’s not that odd. Everyone has a favorite flower.”

“That may be true,” he murmured, finishing his note with a flourish of ink. “But few ask for both a favorite and a self-portrait in petals.”

You grinned. “Then I’m the first, and that makes it special.” He finally looked up at that heterochromic gaze resting on you with a flicker of amusement. “Very well.” You perked up. “So?” A breath passed. He set his quill down. 

“…Delphinium,” he said at last. “Tall. Elusive. Slightly poisonous. But beautiful in a way not easily understood.” You blinked. “Poisonous?”

“Only to those who are careless with it,” he replied smoothly. That made you laugh. “That sounds about right.”

“But,” he added, eyes narrowing slightly in thought, “if I had to choose a flower to embody, it would be different.”

“Oh?”

“The hellebore,” he said softly. “Quiet. Winter-blooming. Not eager to be known. And yet, it endures. Even under snow.” You tilted your head. “That’s a little sad.”

“Perhaps,” he allowed. “But also true.” 

You were quiet for a moment, letting that settle. Then, with a smile, you said, “Okay. Your turn. Do me next.”

His brow arched. “Pardon?”

“Pick a flower,” you said, pointing to yourself dramatically. “One that fits me. What would I be?”

He studied you for a long moment, the weight of his gaze made your cheeks warm. Then, calmly, he said, “An Orchid.” You blinked. “Really? Not something more delicate?”

“No.” His voice was firm, but gentle.“Rare,” he said, almost to himself. “Stubborn, if not tended to just right. You don’t shout to be seen, but you’re noticed anyway. And…” He paused, then added, softer, “you thrive in places others might wither.” You swallowed.

“…That’s really sweet.”

He gave you a knowing look. “You asked.” 

You couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed across your face. “Alright, fine. You win.” Winning what you weren’t quite sure.

“I usually do.” He picked his quill back up, but the corner of his mouth curled just slightly, betraying the softness beneath the mask.

You said nothing more. Your heart caught, an unexpected stillness fluttering in your chest. You smiled, a little breathless. “That was… a very poetic read of me.”

“I am, regrettably, quite familiar with you.”

You laughed, light and flustered. “Is that a compliment?” He didn’t answer. But the corners of his lips curled, and his quill moved again this time slower, steadier. You looked at your hands for a moment, then glanced back up.

“Thanks,” you said, voice quieter now. “For seeing me like that.” 

He didn’t look up. But he murmured, so gently you almost missed it, “You’re easy to see. When one bothers to look.” Shadow Milk Cookie brushed the last few crumbs from his sleeve with careful fingers, finishing the small snack you’d brought with the same attention he gave to deciphering constellations or ancient texts…an absurd level of seriousness for a biscuit. 

You watched as he folded the empty wrapper and set it down beside his quill, then turned toward you with that unreadable calm. But you’d known him long enough to see the way his eyes softened at the edges. 

The way they held a question before his mouth ever moved. He gestured faintly to the seat you’d dragged beside his. “So,” he said, voice low, amused, “was today’s visit prompted by academic curiosity, or did you simply come to feed me?” 

You bit your lip, trying not to smile. “Both, maybe.”

“Oh?” He leaned his elbow lightly on the desk, resting his chin against his knuckles. “You brought sustenance and questions? How strategic.”

“I like to come prepared.”

“Clearly.” His gaze flicked toward the snack wrapper. “Though if your goal was bribery, you’ll need to bring more than one.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not bribery, it’s hospitality.”

“And if your presence is hospitality, then what is the lesson I’m supposed to impart in exchange?”

You shrugged. “Company. That’s all I wanted today.” He didn’t reply immediately, but you could tell he was still watching you carefully, attentively.

Like you were a page he hadn’t quite finished reading. After a beat, he said softly, “Then consider me a willing participant.” You blinked, a little stunned by the quiet sincerity of it.

“No tutoring today?” you asked, only half-teasing. “No assessments? Not even a pop quiz?” He smirked slightly. “Not unless you request one.” You groaned. “You ruin everything.”

“I ruin nothing,” he said, voice just barely playful. “You’ve simply come on a different kind of lesson day.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. “And what kind of lesson is that?” He leaned back slightly, just enough for the window light to catch in his hair.

“The kind,” he said, “where we sit in silence, eat questionable snacks, and pretend, just for an hour, that time doesn’t exist.” 

You smiled. “I think I could pass that.” He smiled, too just a flicker. Just enough to say he agreed. You leaned back in your chair, eyes drifting to the soft afternoon light spilling through the Scholar’s Wing window.

The warmth made the air feel still, like the day itself had paused just for the two of you. Your foot nudged against the leg of his desk absently, your gaze flicking toward him as he finished brushing a final crumb from his sleeve.

“So,” you said lightly, almost dreamily, “when the hour’s up… does that mean we have to go back to tutoring?”

Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t look at you at first. He was quiet, contemplative, his gaze trained on the golden rim of his teacup as if divining truth from the way the light curved around porcelain. Then, with the faintest lift of a brow, he finally replied.

“Of course.”

You groaned dramatically, slumping forward onto his desk like a tragic play protagonist. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

“Why would I?” he said, tone infuriatingly serene. “An hour of reprieve is generous. But I am still your tutor. And you are still… you.” 

You raised your head just enough to glare at him from over your arm. “That’s rude.”

“That’s accurate.” You scoffed, but your lips curled despite yourself. “What if I claimed the hour was spiritually transformative and I can’t possibly return to academics today?” 

He didn’t blink. “Then I would suggest you take up poetry and write a full reflection on your enlightenment by tomorrow morning.” You let out a long, suffering sigh. “You’re evil.”

“I’m thorough.”

“Same thing.”

Shadow Milk Cookie gave the faintest shrug, and you could almost swear there was the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “If it’s any consolation,” he murmured, “I find your dramatics deeply amusing.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “That is… not consolation.”

“It is to me.” You exhaled again, defeated, but a grin found its way to your face anyway. You settled back beside him, arms folded behind your head, and let the silence return for just a while longer.

An hour could last forever, if you didn’t look too closely. However time flies and you found yourself one-foot in the grave from his merciless tutoring. 

Shadow Milk Cookie leaned back in his chair slightly, elegant as always, before he returned his attention to you with an expectant look. He definitely asked you something…but you don’t remember what…time to deflect. You twirled your pen between your fingers and gave him a sly glance. “So… once I finish tutoring, do I get a reward?” 

He tilted his head, as if amused by your phrasing. “You mean beyond the privilege of knowledge?” You groaned theatrically. “Oh come on. That’s not a reward, that’s just the academic version of vegetables.”

“I happen to like vegetables,” he said, entirely unbothered.

“Of course you do,” you muttered. “Let me guess. You were the kind of kid who asked for steamed greens as a treat.”

“I was the kind of child,” he replied smoothly, “who did not need treats to behave.”

You blinked. “Okay, that’s kind of terrifying.”

He smiled, just faintly. “So. You want a reward.”

You nodded, leaning forward over your notes. “Just a little something. I think I’ve earned it. I didn’t even fall asleep during the theory explanation, and I only got mildly distracted twice.”

“I counted four.”

You gasped. “That’s not fair! My thoughts were only briefly astray!” His smile deepened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he said, “If you finish the next two questions properly I’ll consider it.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s not a yes.”

“No,” he said. “But it is a challenge. And I know how you are with those.” 

You stared at him, then picked up your pen. “Fine. But if I ace this, I’m expecting at least a poetic compliment and maybe a walk to the Academy gardens. Or stargazing. Or a secret book from your private collection.” 

He raised a brow. “You negotiate like someone who intends to win.”

“I always intend to win,” you said, scribbling the first answer. “Especially when you’re involved.” His voice was quiet when he replied. “Then perhaps I should start preparing your reward.” 

You handed him your notebook with a sheepish look, hoping praying that maybe, just maybe, your overconfident answers had landed somewhere near the truth.

Shadow Milk Cookie took it with all the ceremony of a scholar preparing to weigh ancient truths, flipping to your page without a word. He read through your work carefully, eyes scanning your answers with a focus so intense it made your stomach twist. Then came the silence. Not the awful, disappointed kind. The worse kind; the patient kind.

“…I take it I don’t get my garden walk,” you mumbled, slumping in your chair. Shadow Milk Cookie closed the notebook with a soft thump and folded his hands over it. “Not quite.” 

You sighed, dragging your hands down your face. “Okay, but in my defense, I got close. The structure was there, right? Emotionally, it was correct.”

“Emotion,” he said gently, “is not what governs magical theory. You’ve made conceptual leaps without establishing the foundation first.”

You peeked up at him through your fingers. “So… I failed the challenge.” 

He tilted his head, gaze soft. “You simply haven’t passed it yet.” You blinked. Then sighed. “Okay. Walk me through it. Again.” 

He picked up your notebook and turned it toward you, tapping lightly on your first answer. “Here. You conflated mnemonic sigils with memory anchors. Understandable, there’s overlap but you have to trace the function backward. What is this sigil supposed to do?”

“…Reinforce the cognitive imprint of a casting pattern?” you guessed.

“Correct. But not preserve it. That would be a memory anchor.” You nodded slowly. “Okay. So the application is different…”

“Fundamentally,” he said, tone never once unkind. “You’re not wrong in instinct. But instinct is only the beginning.” 

You scribbled a note next to the margin. “I’m still not getting that third part of the last question, though. About the transfer threshold.” 

He leaned closer, reaching over to annotate the diagram in your notebook. His voice was soft, measured steady in the way only he could be. “The threshold isn’t static. It fluctuates based on the complexity of the spell and the vessel channeling it. You were thinking too linearly.” 

You stared at the correction, then at his handwriting, elegant and sure even in the tight margin of your page. “This is why I wanted a reward,” you muttered, lips twitching. “You’re too good at making me feel like an amateur.”

He gave a rare, almost fond chuckle. “And yet, you are here still learning.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You nudged his elbow lightly with yours. “Thanks for not rubbing it in.”

Shadow Milk Cookie looked at you and offered a smile, so earnest, it made your chest ache. “I would never mock a mind in pursuit of truth,” he said softly. “But I will correct it. Gently.” 

You couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face. “Even if I don’t get my garden walk?” 

His eyes gleamed. “Finish the next section. Then we’ll see about the stars.” You set your pen down with a quiet click, stretching your arms above your head with a groan that felt entirely too dramatic for only an hour’s worth of effort. 

Still your brain was tired, and your notes looked like a battlefield of trial and error.

Victory was hard-earned, even if the page wasn’t perfect. Shadow Milk Cookie glanced over your latest attempt. “Close,” he murmured, tapping one line with his index finger. “This theorem wants clarity, not charm.”

You leaned in, squinting. “So, charm doesn’t count for partial credit?”

“That depends,” he said. “Are you trying to charm the rubric, or me?” 

You snorted. “Both, ideally.” He gave you a long, slow look. Then, with a soft hum, gently guided you through the correction. His voice was steady, as it always was, and even your missteps didn’t feel like failures when he spoke, not scolding, but unveiling the answers, like the truth had always been there, waiting for you to uncover it. By the time you scribbled down the final line again, the sky outside had begun to mellow, bathed in hues of lilac and pale rose.

The day was fading fast. You sat back in your chair and exhaled. “Well, I didn’t get them all right… but we finished before dinner. That’s something.”

Shadow Milk Cookie gathered the loose pages with fluid precision, stacking them neatly before turning to you. “It is.” You hesitated, glancing out the window toward the soft-lit spires and glowing walkways of the Academy. 

Then you turned back to him. “I’ll come with you,” you said quietly. “After dinner.” His head tilted slightly. “Come with me?” 

You nodded, voice a touch firmer now. “Wherever you’re going after this. If you’re working or wandering or… just sitting in your favorite chair cataloging truth like it’s poetry I’ll come.” The air held still for a moment, like the room itself was listening.

“But,” you added quickly, raising a hand, “after dinner. Because dinner is sacred, and if I miss even one meal with them, Chai will write a haiku about my betrayal. And Earl Grey will read it aloud.” 

He blinked once. Then, finally, the smile arrived soft, quiet, and full of that strange fondness that never had to be loud to be real. “Then I will wait,” he said. “Sacred rituals must not be disturbed.” 

You stood, gathering your things with a smile that reached your eyes. “You’re learning.”

“On the contrary,” he replied smoothly, walking with you to the door, “I’ve always known how to wait.” And outside, the day dimmed into dusk, while your heart carried the warmth of a promise unspoken but understood. The walk to the dining halls was practically engraved in your bones, lost in your thoughts.

You stepped into the dining hall just as the golden lanterns flickered to life above, casting their warm evening glow across the room. The scent of baked herbs and sweet rolls drifted from the buffet tables, mixing with the hum of end-of-day chatter and the occasional clatter of cutlery. Your friends were already at your usual spot middle table, just near the windows. 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie had kicked back in his seat, nursing something that looked suspiciously like his second bowl of stew. Earl Grey Cookie sat with perfect posture, reading over something folded in his lap that looked a lot like extra-credit material. Chai Latte Cookie, of course, was mid-sentence, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“-and then,” she was saying as you slid into the empty seat beside her, “he tripped over his own robe trying to flirt with one of the potion scholars. Knocked over two cauldrons. The entire hallway smelled like burnt strawberries for an hour.”

Hazelnut let out a bark of laughter. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish,” Chai said dramatically, turning toward you as you began to fill your plate.

“Oh, you made it just in time. I was just about to retell the story, and trust me you need to hear this.” You arched a brow. “Is this the part where you traumatize me with gossip before I’ve even had dinner?”

“It’s tradition,” Earl Grey offered dryly without looking up. Chai grinned, tapping her spoon against the rim of her bowl like a conductor warming up the orchestra. “So. Rumor is, one of the second-years you know, the one who always talks about elemental harmony like it’s a romance novel? Well he accidentally enchanted his shoes to follow someone around campus. Without his consent.”

“Wait, what?” you blinked. “Like… autonomous shoes?”

“Fully sentient slippers,” Hazelnut said solemnly.

“They followed her for three hours,” Chai continued, barely holding back laughter. “She screamed every time they got closer. They had to call in the Labyrinth Tactician to unbind them.” 

You pressed your hand to your forehead. “I leave you all alone for one afternoon, and chaos takes the stage.”

“It always does,” Earl Grey said, setting his paper aside with an exhale. “But at least it’s never our fault.” 

Chai gave you a pointed side glance. “Well. Usually never.” You made a face but couldn’t suppress the smile curling at the corners of your lips. The table felt warm, familiar like all the strange, academic chaos of your life had found its grounding here. 

Among food, friends, and just enough nonsense to remind you that no matter what, you were still allowed to laugh. Chai Latte Cookie tapped her spoon against the rim of her teacup like a judge ready to deliver a sentence, her eyes glinting as she leaned in. “Okay, okay…this one isn’t about any random student for once.” 

You nearly choked on your tea, relieved and yet… mildly suspicious. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie looked up, intrigued. “Then who is it about?” 

Chai wiggled her brows. “You know Professor Dandelion Quiche, right? The one from the Divining Sciences department?” Earl Grey Cookie’s brow arched ever so slightly. “The one who’s always late to faculty meetings and quotes ancient dream omens out of context?”

“That’s the one.” Chai grinned. “So get this apparently, someone saw her sneaking out of the Cryohex Lab in the middle of the night. With Professor Frosted Thyme.” Hazelnut nearly dropped his fork. “No way.”

“They’re from opposite disciplines,” you said, bewildered. Chai leaned in closer, as if she was telling you all state secrets. “Exactly. Divination and elemental alchemy? It’s like academic blasphemy.” 

Earl Grey sighed, brushing crumbs from his sleeve. “That lab’s restricted after dark. If they were there, they were either committing scientific brilliance or a deeply suspicious rendezvous.”

“Or both,” Chai said, sipping her tea with flair. “Some say they’ve been working on a long-lost fusion technique. Others say they’re just… working on each other.” 

Hazelnut let out a choked snort. “I’m never going to be able to look at Professor Quiche the same again.” 

You stared at Chai, half-amused, half-horrified. “How do you even find these things out?” Chai just winked. “You’d be amazed what people forget to whisper in the tea line.”

She beamed. “I’m simply conducting research of the heart. And also chaos.” You shook your head, trying to smother your laugh behind your cup. “Well, thanks for the image. Really enriched my afternoon.” 

Chai patted your arm sweetly. “Anytime.”

Chai Latte Cookie had just launched into another one of her scandalous tales, this one about a rumored duel between two rival potion instructors over a misidentified root when Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, set down his teacup with a soft clink and spoke.

“She’s not the only one,” he said, voice smooth as always. Chai turned to him, eyes wide with mock betrayal. “Earl Grey.” He arched a brow at her, unbothered. “Please. Half the things you know are because I told you first.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nearly choked on his juice. “You? No way.” 

You looked between the two of them, blinking. “Wait…Earl Grey’s your source?” Chai huffed, folding her arms. “Sometimes. Occasionally.” 

He smiled faintly. “Often.” She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

Earl Grey took another sip of tea, his expression amused. “But I let her do the reporting. It’s only fair. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t let her have the gossip spotlight?” 

Chai gave him a begrudging grin. “You mean the glory, which I richly deserve.” Hazelnut leaned across the table, eyes wide with mock reverence. “So you're like… the secret informant? The shadow behind the gossip throne?”

“I prefer to think of myself,” Earl Grey said coolly, “as the archivist. She’s the herald.”

“I’m the herald,” Chai repeated, eyes sparkling. “Okay, I kind of love that.” 

You laughed, unable to help it. “So you’ve been working together this whole time?” Chai gestured between them with her fork. “Only when it’s really juicy.”

“And it always is,” Earl Grey added without missing a beat. You shook your head fondly. “No wonder you two are dangerous.”

“We’re efficient,” Chai corrected.

“Terrifying,” Hazelnut muttered into his cup.

Chai just beamed, clinking her glass gently against Earl’s. “To the dream team.” 

He returned the gesture with a dry smile. “To chaos well-curated.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie extended his hand across the table toward you, his expression equal parts exhausted and helplessly amused. Without a word, you took it, your fingers sliding into his with an ease born of mutual suffering. 

No dramatic flourish. No commentary. Just the silent, resigned solidarity of two Cookies who had been utterly outmaneuvered by the gossip duo at your table.

Chai Latte Cookie and Earl Grey Cookie were now deep in some kind of dramatic reenactment Chai’s arms flailing as she described the alleged potion duel in increasingly elaborate detail, while Earl Grey occasionally nodded, offering precise, unnecessary corrections like a dedicated footnote brought to life.

You and Hazelnut just… sat there. Holding hands. Witnesses to chaos.

“What even is this,” you whispered under your breath, half-laughing. Hazelnut exhaled through his nose, squeezing your hand gently. “I don’t know,” he murmured, deadpan. “But we’re in it together now.” 

You gave him a solemn nod. “This is our reality.”

“Pray for us,” he added, as Chai dramatically slammed her spoon down to mimic the sound of “a wand being shattered against a cauldron in fury.” You both winced in unison. 

And kept holding on. Because sometimes, friendship meant enduring the gossip apocalypse with the only other sane person left at the table. Chai Latte Cookie leaned forward, her eyes alight with mischief and the kind of energy that only brewed from too much tea and too many rumors.

“Okay, but hear me out…what if we all just come back to my dorm again? Another sleepover. I’ve got clean sheets, cinnamon candles, and I may have saved the last box of almond puff pastries.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie perked up. “You had pastries this whole time and didn’t say anything?” Earl Grey Cookie gave him a side glance. “She was waiting for a dramatic reveal. Obviously.”

Chai grinned. “What’s the point of hoarding snacks if you don’t unveil them like buried treasure?” 

You laughed, setting your tea down gently, but shook your head. “As tempting as that sounds, I can’t tonight.”

Chai blinked. “What? Why not?” You hesitated for a moment, then said softly, “I have to head back to the Scholar’s Wing. Shadow Milk’s waiting.” 

The words settled quietly over the table not dramatic, not scandalous. Just true. Chai tilted her head, the mischief fading into something gentler. “He’s expecting you?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I told him I’d come back after dinner. I think… he was hoping I would.” 

Hazelnut let out a soft “oooh” under his breath, but didn’t say anything more. Earl Grey simply gave you a knowing look and a faint nod of approval. Chai smiled, nudging your arm. “Alright. We’ll save the pastries for next time.” 

Chai Latte Cookie’s smile faltered for half a second so brief it might’ve been missed if you weren’t looking. But then it was back, radiant and a little too bright, like sunshine forcing its way through a clouded sky.

“Ditching me for your mysterious scholar boyfriend?” she teased, elbowing you gently. “I see how it is. Cold betrayal wrapped in ink-stained affection.” 

You snorted, setting down your cup. “I never said he was my boyfriend, it's a bit complicated.”

“Oh, please,” she huffed dramatically. “You think I didn’t notice the way you practically floated back into the dining hall last time? If that wasn’t a post-kiss glow, I don’t know what is.” 

You flushed, and Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie cackled into his drink. “She’s not wrong.” True or not, nothing would help your case. 

Earl Grey Cookie, as always, was calm and composed, though his eyes twinkled just slightly. “We’ll be sure to ration the pastries accordingly in your absence.” You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile. “It’s just one evening.”

“That’s how it starts,” Chai sighed, clutching her chest like the lead in a tragic play. “One night becomes two. Suddenly we’re attending your wedding in the Moonlit Archives and I’m writing your vows.”

“You’d write the vows anyway,” Hazelnut muttered. Chai smirked.

“Exactly. I’d do a great job.” Despite her theatrics, you saw it that tiny flicker of something behind her eyes. Not sadness, exactly. Not jealousy, either. Just… a quiet ache. 

The way someone might look when they realize a secret part of their world is shifting. You reached across the table, brushing her hand with yours.

“Next time, I promise. Sleepover, pastries, everything.” She looked at you for a moment and then her smile softened into something more real.

“You better,” she said, voice warm. “Or I’m holding your pineapple ice cream hostage.” 

You grinned. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.”

The table broke into laughter again, but your fingers lingered on hers for a second longer just long enough to say what you couldn’t out loud. Then, quietly, you rose, the chatter fading behind you as your thoughts turned toward the quiet hum of the Scholar’s Wing. 

Where he would be waiting. The knock was more of a courtesy than anything three soft raps against the wood, followed by the subtle creak of the door as you slipped inside and shut it behind you. The wards barely flickered, recognizing you, allowing you entrance as if you belonged. You weren’t expecting silence. 

But that’s what you were met with the low hum of enchantments, the faint rustle of parchment disturbed by the breeze of the closing door, and the softest sound of steady breathing. Shadow Milk Cookie was asleep. He was slumped over his desk, head resting on the crook of his arm, ink still drying beside a half-finished passage, his quill cast aside like a soldier at rest. Strands of star-dappled blue hair had fallen from their usual order, trailing like silk across the page and his cheek. 

His brows, usually so precise, were relaxed, his whole expression stripped of his usual composure. In sleep, he didn’t look like the Sage of Truth. He didn’t look like the Fount of Knowledge. He just looked… tired.

And human.

You stood frozen for a moment, the breath catching softly in your throat. He hadn’t moved the chair you'd claimed so many times before tucked beside him behind the desk rather than across from it. A quiet invitation. Your steps were featherlight as you crossed the room, your shoes barely making a sound against the floor. 

You lowered yourself into the chair beside him with the kind of care normally reserved for sacred things. For a long moment, you didn’t speak. Didn’t move. You just watched him. The afternoon light spilled through the stained glass in the corner, casting a gentle shimmer across the edge of his robes. You could see now just how long his lashes were. The faint shadows beneath his eyes, the subtle weariness in his posture. 

The way his fingers still twitched lightly, as if even in sleep, he was chasing something: an idea, a truth, maybe even a dream. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, only that the air in the room felt softer now, almost reverent. You didn’t dare reach for him afraid to wake him, afraid to interrupt the one moment where even time itself seemed to let him rest. Instead, you leaned in just a little, your voice barely above a whisper.

“…You always wait for me. Maybe I can wait for you just this once.” You smiled, small and warm, and rested your chin against your hand. And then, in the stillness, you waited. Your voice barely made a sound. Not even a whisper, really just breath shaped into words, the kind that dissolved into the quiet before they ever had a chance to be heard. Still, you spoke them anyway, tracing the air between you and him with thoughts too heavy to hold in silence.

“…I don’t know what we are,” you murmured, gaze flicking over to his peaceful, sleeping face. “Not really.” 

You watched the way his breath moved, slow and even. Not a stir, not a twitch. He was lost to slumber, far from the questions swirling in your chest. “Are we… something?” you continued, so soft that it was almost like thinking aloud. 

“Are we together? Are we… in love?” You didn’t expect an answer. Of course you didn’t. That wasn’t the point. “I mean, how do you even know?” you said, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. 

“Is it love if you never said the word? If you just… keep showing up? Keep holding someone’s hand beneath the table, or letting them sleep on your shoulder, or fixing their portfolio without asking?” 

You glanced down, a faint crease forming in your brow. “Or is that just kindness? Infatuation? I don’t know. I don’t know how to tell the difference.” Your voice wavered, but never rose.

“I keep waiting for someone to define it. For you to define it. But maybe… maybe it’s not supposed to be defined.” You looked at him again his cheek resting on ink-smudged parchment, his expression gentle, the starlight of his hair softly spilling over the page like spilled magic. “I just…” You swallowed. “I hope it’s not something fleeting. Not something that vanishes when my part in your timeline ends.” 

Still, he didn’t move. And maybe that was a kindness too. You leaned back just slightly in the chair, curling your knees up to your chest, folding your arms loosely around them. “You’re asleep,” you said, barely audible. “So I guess this is safe.” A pause. Then, quieter still, as if confessing to the air itself 

“…I think I’m scared because it feels real.”

And there, in the hush of that quiet, starlit room with no answers, no definitions, and no one to hear you but the weight of your own words you let your thoughts drift beside his, just for a little while longer. You shifted slightly, careful not to make a sound. The wooden desk felt cool beneath your cheek as you rested your head down, facing him. Closer than you’d normally dare when he was awake. 

From this angle, you could see the subtle slope of his nose, the way his lashes cast faint shadows beneath his eyes. His lips were parted slightly, breath even and soft. He looked peaceful like this… reachable. You studied him in silence, your own breath syncing to his without you meaning to. And then, like a secret too heavy to keep, your voice slipped out.

“I don’t know what we are.”

It wasn’t bitter. Just honest.

“I mean, we’re clearly not just friends. Not anymore. Not after everything.” Your gaze lingered on his hands, one curled under his head, the other resting loosely near the forgotten quill.

“But no one’s said anything. No label. No definition. It’s just… this.”

A silence. One he didn’t break. Couldn’t. That was what made this easier. “I think I’m okay with it. Most days,” you whispered.

“But sometimes… sometimes it aches. Just a little. To not know. To not call it anything.” 

You shifted your cheek against the desk, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. “It’s easier to say this when you’re asleep,” you added, quieter now.

“When no one can hear. Truths are easier like that…when they don’t echo.” 

The ache in your chest pulsed again quiet, persistent. “I don’t need you to say it,” you breathed. “But… sometimes I wish I could.”

And still, he slept. And still, you stayed half-hoping, half-afraid that one day, the silence between you would have a name. You tapped him lightly on the shoulder gentle, careful, like a knock made from fingertip to sleeve. Shadow Milk Cookie stirred beside you, shifting with a soft, drawn breath as though pulled gently from some far-off dream. He blinked slowly, hair falling slightly into his eyes, his gaze still hazy with sleep as he turned toward you.

“…You’re here,” he murmured, voice rough and low, like a warm stone just beginning to cool from the sun. You gave him a small smile. “You were asleep when I got here. I didn’t want to wake you.” 

His brow furrowed faintly, more out of puzzlement than anything. “How long was I out?” You shrugged. “Not sure. I just… watched you for a while.” A quiet pause followed thick with something unspoken, something neither of you felt the need to put into words. His golden eyes lingered on you, still soft from sleep. You were close. Closer than usual. Close enough that you could count the stars in his hair if you wanted to. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting,” he said, sitting up straighter and rubbing at his eyes.

“You didn’t,” you replied quickly. “I liked the quiet. And besides, I told you I’d come back.” He smiled faintly at that just the smallest shift of his lips. “So you did.” 

You leaned your cheek against your arm, resting on the desk beside him. “If you’re still tired, we don’t have to do anything. I could just stay. Or we could go for a walk, if you wanted. Or we can sit here and talk about absolutely nothing until we get tired of that too.”

“Talking about nothing sounds dangerously close to philosophy,” he teased, voice still soft-edged. 

You grinned. “That’s only if you do it.” He chuckled lightly under his breath, the sound rare and warm. The world outside hushed and still. Then, on a whim, you spoke. “Can I ask you some questions? Not serious ones. Mostly nonsense.” 

He gave you a wary but amused glance. “That usually means trouble.”

“Definitely,” you confirmed. He gestured with one hand, resigned. “Very well. Proceed.” You cleared your throat dramatically. “If you had to live in a teapot for the rest of your life, what flavor of tea would you want to steep in?” His brow lifted. “…What.”

“Answer the question.”

“Chamomile,” he said, without missing a beat. “Mild. Soothing. Unlikely to stain my robes.” You laughed. “You’ve thought about this.”

“I’m simply fast on my feet.” You took another breath, letting yourself relax into the rhythm of your questions, the quiet between his replies.

“Okay, new one. Would you rather read every thought someone has about you or have to recite every thought you have about someone out loud?” He winced. “Neither.”

“Not an option.”

“…The first, if only so I could never speak again and no one would find it strange.” 

You were still laughing when the next question slipped out too quick, too curious. “Have you ever been in love?” The air between you stilled. You instantly regretted it not because it was a bad question, but because you hadn’t meant to say it so soon, hadn’t meant to ask it when his guard was still soft, when the edge between sleep and wakefulness made everything feel too close, too real. He didn’t answer at first. 

But then he turned slightly, eyes meeting yours with a look you couldn’t decipher right away. “If I have…” he said quietly, “I imagine it would feel like this.”

Your heart skipped. You didn’t reply. Couldn’t. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t ruin the softness of that moment. So instead, you reached across the desk and gently nudged his hand with yours nothing more than a touch, light as air. 

And he let his fingers rest there, beside yours. Not reaching. Not pulling away. Just being. You felt the weight of his words settle somewhere between your ribs, the silence afterward stretching not awkward, but undeniably charged, like the pause before a leap neither of you were brave enough to take. His fingers still lingered near yours. Close, but not quite touching.

You didn’t know what to say. So, naturally, you said something else entirely. “…If you were a soup,” you asked softly, “what kind would you be?” He blinked once. Slowly. There was a twitch of his brow, almost a smile, but not quite. “A… soup?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, as if doubling down would make it seem like less of a cover. “Like, if you had to embody the spirit of a soup. What would it be?” He looked at you for a long, still moment. And then quietly, almost conspiratorially he said, “Miso.” You raised an eyebrow. “Miso?”

“Mysterious. Slightly salty. Best when warm,” he replied, ever composed, though his gaze flicked briefly toward your lips before darting back to the space between your hands. “Also widely misunderstood.” A breathy laugh escaped you, too quiet to be called anything more.

“Sounds about right,” you murmured. Neither of you mentioned the question you did ask. Neither of you dared to acknowledge how close you were to something that would change the rhythm between you forever. And so, you leaned into the ridiculous. Let the veil fall back into place. 

“Wrong answer,” you said at last, deadpan. “The only correct soup is tomato bisque.” He scoffed delicately, theatrically. “Of course you would say that.” And for a little while longer, the veil stayed intact. But neither of you let your hands drift apart. 

You stood from the chair slowly, your movements careful quiet. You didn't want to disturb the strange stillness that had settled over the room, the way the golden lamplight made the air feel soft and warm and a little heavy. 

Shadow Milk Cookie blinked at you, still emerging from the drowsy edges of sleep, and in the quiet that stretched between you, there was too much you both weren’t saying. You looked down at him, at the faint print his sleeve had left on his cheek, the way his hair was out of place ever so slightly from his nap. You could’ve reached out. You could’ve asked. But instead, you offered a small, lopsided smile.

“I think I’ll take my leave,” you said, voice light, a little too easy. “You seem too tired to be interrogated tonight.”

His gaze lifted to yours slowly, the corners of his eyes still soft from sleep. “You don’t have to go.” 

You hesitated. “I know. But you’re tired, and I…well, I’m feeling merciful tonight.” That got the smallest huff of air from him, barely a breath away from a laugh. You made it halfway to the door before glancing back over your shoulder.

“Oh, and just for the record,” you added, voice deliberately casual, “if you were a soup, I’ve decided you’d be a very dramatic miso.” 

A blink. “…Why?” 

You smiled faintly. “Because you always seem composed until someone stirs you, and then everything just… floats to the top.” 

His expression faltered not with annoyance, not with confusion, but something more like… hesitation. You weren’t sure. But he didn’t reply. And you didn’t ask again. You turned back to the door and rested your hand on the handle. There were questions you could’ve asked. 

Ones that weren’t dressed in metaphor. But neither of you were quite ready for that not yet. Maybe one day you’d say what you meant. When that day came maybe, he’d say it back. But for now? You slipped quietly through the door, letting it close behind you with a soft click, and left your feelings resting in the silence between them.

A/N Hey y'all! this chapter has been LONG overdue, I'm studying for finals nothing major (I'm coping) but no I promise I am a okay thank you to all of those who have asked, and not to worry I will bring this story to completion...Once all my exams are over I will have all the time in the world (for a bit) Anyways I will be replying to my inbox tomorrow!

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥

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[0zozone]

This is too much for me, WE’RE DOOMED

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 16

<<<Previous Next>>>

No, you would go. But today would be different. You had decided determined, really that today would be nothing more than a lesson. All work, no jokes. No lingering on things that didn’t matter. No personal questions. No stolen glances. Because it wasn’t fair. He knew so much about you. Your struggles, your habits, the way your mind worked…or failed to work, at times. 

He had seen you laid bare metaphorically, of course, but somehow that was worse. He had read you like an open book, and yet when you tried to do the same, you found the pages blank, sealed, or written in a language you could not understand. What did you know of him? He played the harpsichord. That much you had gathered. But what did he listen to when he was alone? What was his favorite piece?

Did he hum while he worked, or did he sit in silence, letting the weight of knowledge fill the air? Did he prefer tea or coffee? Did he even need to eat? And if he did, what was his favorite meal? Who were his friends? Did he have friends? Or was he always the Sage, always standing apart, untouchable and revered? What had he been like as a child? Had he always been this way poised, unwavering, impossibly composed? Or had he once been clumsy, uncertain, still learning what it meant to be the Sage of Truth? Was he spoken for? 

That thought, more than any other, made something twist inside you, a sharp pang of something you refused to name. It wasn’t his fault you had gotten attached. But you had. And now, you had to fix it. You pushed the door open, stepping into the study room with renewed resolve. Today, there would be no unnecessary conversation, no lingering warmth. Just work. At least, that was the plan. You only hoped he wouldn’t make it difficult.

You entered the room, not bothering to hesitate at the threshold. No unnecessary thoughts. No unnecessary emotions. Just work. Without so much as a greeting, you pulled out your notes, flipping to the section you had struggled with most. The paper was a mess of hurried scribbles, half-finished equations, and the occasional margin note that made less sense now than when you first wrote it. But that didn’t matter. You dropped the pages onto the desk in front of you and spoke clear, direct, without hesitation.

 "On the application of astral runes in planar stabilization," you began, skipping pleasantries altogether. "How does the stability matrix account for flux when the anchor points shift independently of one another?"

It was an advanced question, more than a little out of your depth, but that was precisely the point. If you buried yourself in complex theory, there would be no room for anything else, no stray thoughts, no wandering emotions, no reflections on how unfair it felt to be this exposed while knowing so little about him.

You finally lifted your gaze, forcing yourself to meet Shadow Milk Cookie’s golden eyes. He had been watching you from the moment you stepped in, his hands folded neatly on the desk, his expression unreadable. Usually, he would greet you with a thoughtful remark, perhaps a small observation on your mood or state of mind. But this time, you had given him no opening.

No space for idle chatter. Only a question. His gaze lingered for a moment, searching, as if trying to discern something unspoken. Then, with an almost imperceptible tilt of his head, he answered. "A precise question." His voice was as smooth as ever, but there was something else there, something quieter. "Let us begin."

You sat down with a sharp, deliberate motion, placing your notes onto the table before Shadow Milk Cookie could say anything. No greeting, no lingering hesitation, just a question. “About the theorem we covered last time,” you said, flipping to a particular page in your notes, voice brisk, focused. “I was reviewing the applications, but I’m not sure how it applies when you shift the variables outside of the original bounds.”

The words left your mouth in a rush, leaving no space for anything else. No space for warmth. No space for familiarity. No space for him to see through you. For a moment, there was silence. Then, Shadow Milk Cookie, ever composed, inclined his head. His golden eyes flickered over you not with suspicion, not with amusement, but with something unreadable. He did not acknowledge the shift in your demeanor. Did not ask why there was no hello, no trace of your usual energy. Instead, he smoothly picked up the thread of your inquiry, as if nothing had changed.

“A fair question,” he mused, steepling his fingers before him. “To understand the constraints of the theorem, one must first consider its foundational premise. If we deconstruct the function as an extension of its primary logic, we find that-” He launched into an explanation with his usual measured eloquence, his voice even and assured, weaving seamlessly between theory and application.

Good. Good. This was what you needed. You nodded along, forcing your mind to follow the thread of his reasoning, gripping onto each word like a lifeline. If you focused truly, deeply focused on this, then maybe the rest would fall away. Maybe you wouldn’t feel the weight in your chest, the sting of self-awareness whispering that you were lying to yourself. But Shadow Milk Cookie was thorough.

He explained the theorem in layered depth, drawing diagrams with practiced ease, his golden eyes alight with the quiet thrill of dissecting knowledge. His words flowed effortlessly, forming intricate patterns of logic, each thought linking seamlessly to the next. His explanations were precise, unraveling the structure of the problem with such clarity that, for a moment, you felt yourself being swept into it.

You blinked. Wait. What? Your grip on your quill faltered as you scrambled to process the last few sentences. Somewhere between defining the function’s behavior and its correlation to alternative magical applications, he had gone far beyond what you could follow. “Slow down,” you blurted, lifting a hand in surrender. “I don’t-I don’t understand.” Shadow Milk Cookie halted mid-sentence, his gaze flicking to yours. His expression did not change, but there was something in his eyes something careful, something aware. You swallowed, feeling frustration creep into your chest not at him, but at yourself. At the fact that you had let yourself get caught in the cadence of his voice, in the way his words spun knowledge so effortlessly, and now you were struggling to keep up.

No. That wasn’t the only reason. You were frustrated because even now even after deciding that you needed to create distance, that it wasn’t fair how much he knew about you while you knew so little of him he still had the power to pull you in. Still had the ability to make you forget yourself. He tilted his head slightly, as if considering you. Then, instead of continuing, he leaned forward slightly, hands resting on the table with practiced ease. "Tell me, then," he said, his voice softer now, less of a lecture and more of an invitation. "Where did I lose you?"

You gritted your teeth. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t fair. If he had just been indifferent, if he had simply continued as though you were nothing more than a struggling student, it would have been easier. But he wasn’t indifferent. He was patient. And worse he was perceptive. You forced yourself to exhale. “The part about restructuring the function,” you admitted, flipping back a page in your notes, trying to ignore the way your voice had lost its sharp edge. “You lost me there.”

Shadow Milk Cookie nodded once, then, with the same patience as always, began again. And you let him. You let him guide you back through the explanation, let yourself focus on the words, let yourself be lost in the steady rhythm of learning. Because deceit was a warmer embrace than truth. And if you focused hard enough, maybe you could convince yourself that this was all there was. Your quill hovered over the page, ink pooling at the tip, threatening to drop onto your already messy notes. You stared, not really seeing the words anymore, your mind an unsteady blur of half-formed thoughts.

Shadow Milk Cookie’s voice was steady, patient as always. His explanations wove through the air, each word carefully measured, precise, yet they slipped through your grasp like sand. You tried to follow, tried to focus, but nothing stuck. You knew it wasn’t him. It wasn’t the material. It was you. And that made it worse. “Do you follow?” he asked, his tone as composed as ever. You blinked, suddenly aware that he had finished speaking. You hadn’t even processed the last thing he said.

“Uh-” Your grip on the quill tightened, your heartbeat loud in your ears. You scrambled, flipping back a few pages in your notes as if searching for something, anything that would make the past few minutes click into place. But it was useless. His gaze was expectant, not impatient, not unkind. Just waiting. Waiting for you to catch up. Waiting for you to be honest. Your chest tightened. You couldn’t do this. “I don’t get it.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, low and tense, barely above a whisper. You swallowed, willing your voice to stay even, but the frustration was creeping in, sinking its claws deep into your ribs. “I don’t” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “I’m not following anything you’re saying.”

Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head slightly, studying you. “Would you like me to simplify it?” That…That was it. The final push. You let out a short, bitter laugh, but there was no humor in it. Your quill clattered onto the desk as you leaned back, rubbing a hand down your face.

“What’s the point?” His expression didn’t change. He simply regarded you, eyes steady, waiting for you to continue. You almost didn’t. But something in you snapped. “It’s not like I’ll get it if you keep trying,” you muttered, shaking your head. “I don’t...I don’t know why I even bother.” You exhaled harshly, hands clenching into fists on your lap.

“I just...I thought if I kept showing up, if I kept listening, I’d get somewhere, but I...” Your breath hitched, frustration rising to the surface, sharp and undeniable. “It’s useless. I don’t get it. I never get it.” Your voice wavered at the last part, and you hated that. A quiet settled between you, thick and heavy. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the heat behind them to go away. You didn’t want to be seen like this weak, frustrated, cracking under the weight of something that shouldn’t even matter this much.

But then he spoke. “Are you frustrated with the material?” The question was simple. Too simple. And for some reason, that made your chest tighten even more. You opened your mouth, ready to snap out an answer, to deflect, to insist that yes, of course, it was the material. What else could it possibly be? But the words wouldn’t come. Because it wasn’t just the material.

And Shadow Milk Cookie…He was too perceptive for his own good. You clenched your jaw, turning your face away, unwilling to meet his gaze. “I don’t know,” you muttered. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth, either. Silence stretched between you again. You wished he’d just move on. Let it go. Let you sit in your frustration and wallow until the feeling passed. But instead, he said  “Truth is not always kind.”

Shadow Milk Cookie rested his chin against the back of his hand, watching you carefully. “It is a mirror that does not bend to our wishes. And when we look into it, we do not always like what we see.” You stared at him, words caught in your throat. He continued, voice calm, unwavering.

“Deceit, on the other hand, is a gentler embrace. It soothes, where truth may wound. It comforts, where truth may force confrontation.” He tilted his head slightly, gaze sharp, piercing. “Would you rather remain in deceit, then? Because it is easier?” You jolted as if struck.

Your mouth opened, then shut. You had no response. Something in you curled inward, like an exposed nerve, raw and aching. You wanted to say no. You wanted to deny it, to insist that you sought truth, that you weren’t weak enough to cling to something false just because it hurt less. But wasn’t that exactly what you were doing? Wasn’t that why you were here, sitting stiffly in your chair, forcing yourself to create distance because you had let yourself see too much? Your throat tightened. “I-” Your voice failed you. You suddenly felt… exposed. Like he had peeled back a layer of yourself you hadn’t even realized was showing.

Your hands clenched into fists. You needed to focus. You needed to ground yourself in something solid before you spiraled too far. You forced yourself to look at your notes, flipping a page just for the sake of doing something, anything. “Let’s” You cleared your throat, trying to steady your voice. “Let’s just get back to work.”

Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a long moment. His gaze wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t pitying, either. Just… knowing. You didn’t like that. But he did not press. “Very well,” he said simply, and began again. You tried to follow. You really did. But your thoughts were elsewhere, your mind still tangled in the weight of his words. And before long, you realized, You weren’t listening at all. You were staring. You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point, you had stopped hearing his words entirely. His voice became nothing more than a distant hum, like waves rolling in and out against the shore. His gestures, his careful movements, the way his golden eyes flickered with thought it all blurred together into something incomprehensible.

“Are you following?” You snapped upright, startled. You blinked rapidly, heat rising to your face as you scrambled to make sense of where you were, of what he had just said. But you had nothing. You had absorbed none of it. Your breath caught. Your heart pounded against your ribs. You swallowed thickly, gripping the edge of your notes like they could anchor you back to reality. “Wait-wait, slow down, I-I don’t understand.”

Shadow Milk Cookie paused. Then, slowly, he leaned back, folding his hands neatly in his lap. “I see,” he mused, and there was something almost amused in his voice. “You weren’t listening at all, were you?” Your face burned. You turned away sharply, jaw clenching, frustration bubbling up all over again.

“Forget it,” you muttered. “Forget it?” he echoed, arching a brow. “You were so determined when you arrived today. I wonder, what changed?” Your breath caught. You wanted to say nothing. You wanted to pretend it was just another day, another failed attempt at understanding material that would always slip through your fingers. But you couldn’t. Because you knew what changed. And you were afraid to admit it. To him. To yourself.

The silence stretched between you. You weren’t sure how long you had been staring at the parchment in front of you, but the words no longer made sense not because they were difficult, but because they felt distant, irrelevant. Like trying to grasp smoke. You knew he was watching you. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the quiet patience with which he waited for you to speak. But you had nothing to say. Your fingers curled against the edge of your notes, gripping them tightly before relaxing again.

What were you doing here? You had asked yourself that before, but the question had never burned as much as it did now. It wasn’t his fault. That much you knew. It wasn’t his fault that he was always composed, always steady, always carrying himself with the unshaken confidence of someone who knew their place in the world. It wasn’t his fault that he could look at you, really look at you and see through the barriers you thought you had built. That he could tell, without needing to ask, whether you were listening, whether you were engaged, whether your mind was somewhere far away. Instead of addressing anything he continued tutoring in the hopes you’d start to follow along.

The ink on your parchment blurred before your eyes, the symbols and diagrams twisting into meaningless shapes. You weren’t even tired…not really, but focus felt impossible, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. You knew he could tell. Of course he could. Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t miss things like this. Even now, as you sat stiffly across from him, your notes spread out in front of you, you could feel the weight of his gaze.

Patient. Expectant. Waiting for you to catch up, to ask a question, to engage. But you hadn’t. Not tonight. Instead, you had simply nodded along, feigning understanding when in reality, your mind was a thousand miles away. Shadow Milk Cookie finally set down his quill. The motion was deliberate, the quiet tap against the desk almost deafening in the heavy silence.

“You are unfocused.” Your jaw tensed. It wasn’t a question. You swallowed, gripping your quill a little tighter. “I’m fine.” His golden eyes studied you. “Then tell me what I just explained.” You hesitated. There was an answer somewhere in your head, you were sure of it. But when you reached for it, all you found was noise his voice, the rhythm of his words, the structure of his explanations, all slipping past you too fast to grasp. “I-” You frowned. “It was about…” Nothing. Your silence was all the answer he needed.

Shadow Milk Cookie hummed, tapping his fingers lightly against the parchment. “Curious. If you are fine, as you claim, then why do you falter?” You inhaled sharply, irritation prickling under your skin. “I just zoned out for a second.”

“More than a second.”

You clenched your jaw, heat rising to your face. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “It is if you wish to learn.”

That was the thing, wasn’t it? You did want to learn. You wanted to be here. Or at least, you had convinced yourself that you did. But tonight, everything felt wrong. You had walked into this session determined to build a wall, to keep things strictly professional, to separate whatever this was from what it needed to be. He was your tutor, nothing more. And he knew you weren’t listening. It was unfair. Unfair that he could read you so easily, unfair that he always seemed to know exactly what you were thinking, unfair that he could see right through you while you…You knew so little of him. You had spent all this time by his side, listening to his teachings, watching the way his mind worked, the way his words wove knowledge into something tangible. You had seen him confident, assured, unwavering. But beyond that?

What did he like outside of all this? Did he have a favorite color? A favorite meal? Did he ever get frustrated? Did he ever feel lost? Who were his friends? What was his childhood like? What made him him? He had told you once that his hair was a reflection of who he was. But that answer had only left you with more questions. And yet, he had never offered more. And why would he? Why should he?

Your fingers curled into fists on the table. This wasn’t his fault. That was the worst part. This wasn’t his fault. It was yours. Yours for letting yourself get attached, for allowing yourself to wonder, for looking at him and seeing something beyond what was there or worse, for seeing something that was there but was never meant for you.

Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled softly. “Shall we begin again?” His voice was calm, composed. Like this was just another lesson, just another evening. Your frustration swelled. You couldn’t do this. Not like this. “Why do you care?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharper than you intended.

Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes narrowed slightly not in irritation, but in consideration. “Is that truly what you wish to ask?” You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head. “I just. I don’t get it. Why does it matter if I’m paying attention or not? It’s my problem, isn’t it? It’s my responsibility to learn.”

Shadow Milk Cookie leaned back slightly, regarding you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher. “You misunderstand.” You frowned. “Do I?”

“Yes.” His tone was measured, deliberate. “It is not that I care whether you listen. It is that you wish to listen, yet you do not.”

Your heart stuttered. His gaze didn’t waver. “And that, I believe, is what frustrates you most.” Your breath caught in your throat. You did want to listen. You wanted to be here. But your thoughts had tangled into something unmanageable, something overwhelming, and no matter how hard you tried to pull yourself back, you couldn’t. You looked away, your voice quieter now. “It’s not that simple.”

“Is it not?”

You scoffed. “Of course you’d say that.” His lips quirked up at the corner, almost imperceptibly. “I only speak the truth.” You exhaled sharply, pressing your fingers against your temple.

“You always do, don’t you?” There was a pause.

“Would you rather I lie?” You looked up at him sharply, startled by the question. Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze remained steady, unyielding. But there was something beneath the surface. You swallowed. “No.”

He nodded, as if that answer was expected. “Then tell me.”

You hesitated. “Tell you what?”

“What troubles you.” You nearly laughed.

“That’s not how this works.”

He tilted his head slightly. “No?” You let out a dry chuckle. “You’re the Sage of Truth. You already know, don’t you?” He didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was softer than before.

“I know what I observe. But I am not omniscient.” Something in your chest tightened. You shook your head, looking away again. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” You exhaled sharply, frustration flickering back to the surface. “Why?”

He regarded you for a long moment before speaking. “Because truth is not always what one wants. And yet, it remains. Would you rather embrace deceit?”

Yes. Yes, because deceit was easier. It was a warmer embrace than the truth. Because the truth was…You liked him but…you didn’t know him. Not really. And yet, you had let yourself want to. Your fingers curled against the parchment, heart pounding. Shadow Milk Cookie sighed, leaning forward slightly. “We will begin again,” he repeated, quieter this time. You swallowed hard, nodding without a word. You didn’t know what you were doing anymore. But you knew you had to move forward. Even if the truth was the last thing you wanted to face.

The sharp edges of frustration had dulled now, replaced with something else something quieter, something bitter. You had let your emotions dictate your actions, let them warp your thoughts into something unbecoming. You had sat here, barely listening, building walls between yourself and the one person who had done nothing to deserve it. And for what? Because he saw through you? Because you didn’t know him the way he seemed to know you? It was childish. You were childish.

Your grip on your quill tightened before you finally sighed, letting the tension slip from your shoulders. “I…” You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry.” Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t respond right away. He merely watched you, eyes unreadable in the dim candlelight of his office.

“For what?” You hesitated, pressing your lips together before exhaling. “For… behaving like that. For letting things get to me. For…” You frowned, searching for the right words. “For allowing emotions I don’t even understand to dictate what I do.”

He tilted his head slightly, considering your words. “A rare admission.” You let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. “Yeah, well. I feel foolish.” His gaze didn’t waver.

“Foolishness is not in acknowledging one’s emotions. It is in denying them.” You stared at him for a long moment before shaking your head. “You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Say things that make too much sense,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. Then, after a beat, you looked at him again, more serious this time. “How do you always know the truth?” He blinked, the shift in topic catching him off guard. “I am the Sage of Truth.”

“No,” you interjected. “Not as the Sage of Truth. I want you to answer me as Shadow Milk.” His expression flickered, the ever-present composure cracking just slightly at your request. You leaned forward, elbows resting against the table. “What is the truth to you? And don’t give me some grand, philosophical answer. I want to know what it means to you.”

Shadow Milk Cookie was quiet for a long time, his fingers idly brushing against the parchment on the table. You could see the way he weighed his words, measured them as he always did. But this time, it wasn’t for the sake of some grand declaration. Finally, he spoke. “The truth,” he said slowly, “is both burden and gift.” You frowned slightly, but let him continue.

“It is an unyielding force. One that exists beyond our desires, beyond what we want to be true. It does not change, no matter how we plead or fight against it. And yet…” His gaze softened, almost imperceptibly. “It is also what guides us. What shapes us. What reveals us, even when we do not wish to be seen.”

You exhaled through your nose, mulling over his words before finally asking, “And what about me?” Shadow Milk Cookie blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You said truth reveals us even when we don’t wish to be seen.” You met his gaze fully now, unwavering. “What do you see? What do you know just from what you observe in me?”

His expression shifted something deeper settling in his gaze, something you couldn’t name. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. “I see someone who tries to convince themselves they do not care, when in reality, they care far too much.” Your breath hitched. “I see someone who holds their own struggles close, too stubborn to share them, because they believe no one would truly understand."

You held your breath. “I see someone who seeks knowledge not just for the sake of learning, but for the sake of proving something to themselves, to others, to someone whose voice still lingers in their mind.”

Your chest felt tight. “That’s-” But he wasn’t done. “I see someone who is afraid.” Your breath caught in your throat. His voice was softer now, but no less steady. “Afraid of being seen. Afraid of being known. However…” He studied you carefully, as if peeling back the layers of your very being.

“You crave it, all the same.” The room felt too small. You swallowed hard, looking away. “I hate that you’re right.” Shadow Milk Cookie hummed, tilting his head.

“Did you want me to lie?” You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “No.” He nodded, as if that was all he needed. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

“…Is that all you see?” The question was quieter than before, uncertain. Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his golden eyes. “I see someone who is trying.” You looked up at him. He continued, voice steady. “Someone who, despite everything, still moves forward. Who still chooses to be here. And that, I believe, is no small thing.”

Your chest ached. There was nothing grand about his words, nothing overly poetic. Just simple, honest truth. And somehow, that made it harder to bear. You exhaled, rubbing your temple. “You really don’t hold back, do you?” His lips curved ever so slightly. “You asked.” You let out another breathless chuckle, shaking your head. “Yeah. I did.” The weight of the conversation still lingered, pressing down on you. But somehow, it didn’t feel quite so suffocating anymore. “…We should probably get back to studying,” you murmured after a beat. Shadow Milk Cookie inclined his head slightly. “If you are ready.” You hesitated just for a moment before nodding. “I am.” And this time, you meant it. At least you thought you did.

The conversation lingered in your mind, even as you forced yourself to refocus. Shadow Milk Cookie had said his piece laid bare what he saw in you and though the weight of it still sat heavy in your chest, you found yourself breathing a little easier. And as the lesson resumed, something within you eased.

The usual rhythm returned the back-and-forth, the push and pull. You let yourself slip into the banter, your playful nature peeking through in small quips and exaggerated sighs of suffering whenever he asked a particularly difficult question. “Of course you’d expect me to remember that,” you muttered, frowning at the notes before you. Shadow Milk Cookie merely arched a brow. “Would you prefer a simpler question?”

You scoffed. “What, and give you the satisfaction? I don’t think so.” He exhaled, amusement dancing in his golden eyes. “Your defiance is commendable, though misdirected.”

You grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” And so it went. You asked questions. He answered them. He posed new ones, guiding you toward realizations without simply handing you the answers. Somehow, without even realizing it, you learned. Not through rigid memorization or frustrating drills, but through genuine discussion. By the time you finally closed your notebook, the weight of the day felt lighter, the earlier frustration nothing more than a faint echo in the background.

“Well,” you sighed, stretching slightly. “That’s that.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave a satisfied nod. “You grasped the concepts well.” You hummed, tapping your fingers idly against the cover of your notebook before saying, “I don’t actually think I needed to learn this.” His gaze flickered to you, mild curiosity in his expression.

You shrugged. “I just picked the concept that seemed the hardest.” You smiled a little, rolling your shoulders. “Figured if I was going to spend time learning something, it might as well be the biggest challenge. Maybe it’ll come in handy one day.” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you for a moment before exhaling a quiet chuckle. “That is certainly one approach.”

You smirked. “Hey, if I’m going to suffer, I might as well choose my suffering.” He shook his head, though there was no real disapproval in his expression. “You continue to be an enigma.” You laughed. “And yet, somehow, you always seem to figure me out.”

He hummed, watching you with that ever-measured gaze. “Not entirely.” That made you pause. Your grin faltered slightly, just enough for the shift in expression to be noticeable. But before you could ask what he meant before you could linger too long on the thought he spoke again. “Shall we conclude for today?” You blinked before nodding.

“Yeah. That sounds good.” He nodded in return, gathering his own notes as you shut your notebook. You found yourself wondering just for a moment, if he had truly meant what he said. That he didn’t entirely know you. That there was still more to be seen. You left his office only to return. You should have stayed gone. But, It wasn’t time for dinner yet, and you had nothing to do. You also nothing to say, no reason to sit here idly while he worked.

Your fingers tapped against the arm of your chair, your gaze flicking between the bookshelves that loomed over his desk, the faint glimmer of candlelight against the deep blue strands of his hair, and the serene focus on his face. Shadow Milk Cookie hardly seemed to register your presence. Or maybe he did and simply chose not to acknowledge it. You weren’t sure which would have been worse. You shifted in your seat, uncomfortable, not with him but with yourself.

Your mind was restless, searching for something to latch onto, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out. “…What do you actually like?” The quill stopped mid-stroke. For a long, silent moment, he did not move, his head only barely tilting in your direction. Then, his golden eyes flickered toward you, unreadable. “…I beg your pardon?” You swallowed, suddenly feeling foolish, but you had already spoken. There was no taking it back. “I mean… I don’t know anything about you. Not really,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “I know the Sage of Truth. I know the scholar, the mentor, the one everyone looks up to. But… I don’t know you.”

That surprised him. You could tell by the way his brows lifted just slightly, the way his quill lingered, forgotten, between his fingers. You exhaled, shifting under his gaze. “What do you like?” you repeated, softer this time. Shadow Milk Cookie set his quill down, folding his hands neatly over the parchment. “You are quite direct today.”

You huffed. “Would you rather I beat around the bush?” He studied you, something thoughtful behind his gaze, before exhaling softly. “No,” he admitted, almost to himself. You weren’t sure why, but the way he said it made something in your chest feel lighter. Still, he seemed to consider your question carefully, as if deciding how much of himself he was willing to share.

Finally, he answered. “I enjoy playing the harpsichord,” he said, voice even, measured. “The act of creation through music is… calming.” You blinked, you knew this.

He continued. “I find solace in quiet libraries, where the weight of time lingers in the air.” He glanced briefly at the nearest bookshelf, his expression softening just slightly. “And I prefer tea to coffee. Something floral, with a subtle sweetness.” You listened, eyes fixed on him, taking in every word as if they were the rarest truths you had ever heard.

Shadow Milk Cookie hesitated for a fraction of a second, then added, quieter almost like an afterthought “…I like the night sky.” Your breath caught. Not because of what he said, but because of the way he said it. There was something different in his tone something uncharacteristically unguarded.

You tilted your head. “Why?” He glanced at you, then away, his fingers pressing together slightly. “…Because it is vast, endless, and unknown.” A pause. “Because no matter how much I seek to understand it, there will always be something beyond my reach.” You watched him carefully, his golden eyes fixed somewhere distant, as if lost in thought.

For a moment, he wasn’t the Sage of Truth. He was just himself. Perhaps you selfishly wanted to see more of that. You hummed, letting his words settle before saying, “So… if you like the night sky because it’s something you can’t fully understand… does that mean you like a challenge?”

His gaze snapped back to you. And for just a second just a heartbeat you thought you saw it. A faint warmth at the tips of his ears. It was gone before you could be certain, but something about it made your own heart stumble over itself. Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled through his nose, amusement flickering in his expression, though his eyes held something else something curious. “

You are quite bold today,” he remarked. You shrugged. “Maybe I just wanted to see what kind of answer I’d get.” His lips quirked up slightly, a ghost of a smile, before he leaned back in his chair. “And? Are you satisfied?”

You studied him for a moment, the quiet flicker of candlelight reflecting in his eyes. Maybe it was because you swore just for a moment that you had seen something there, something warm and human and quietly sincere, but you found yourself smiling. “…I think I’ll need to keep asking to know for sure.” Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled softly, shaking his head, but there was no disapproval in it. Only quiet amusement. “…So be it.”

The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the polished wood of Shadow Milk Cookie’s desk, casting long shadows that stretched toward the walls lined with books and parchment. You leaned back in your chair, staring at the ceiling as you let your thoughts drift, the memory of the night in the Ghost City lingering in your mind. You had meant to focus on your studies tonight to keep things light, simple, free of the tangled web of thoughts you kept getting caught in. But your curiosity gnawed at you, persistent and unshaken. And so, before you could think better of it, you spoke.

“You know… the other day, when we went to the Ghost City, I heard this story.” Shadow Milk Cookie hummed in acknowledgment, quill still moving against parchment, his focus undisturbed. “Oh?”

“Yeah. A ghost told it in the Storyteller’s Circle,” you continued, watching his expression carefully. “It was about two lovers who could only meet once every hundred years.” His quill paused for just a fraction of a second before continuing its path across the page. “A compelling premise,” he mused, his tone neutral.

“What did you make of it?” You huffed, tilting your head. “I don’t know. Chai Latte thought it was romantic.” He let out a thoughtful sound, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “Hazelnut Biscotti said it was tragic,” you added, crossing your arms. “A reasonable perspective.”

“And Earl Grey Cookie said some people are worth waiting for.” At that, Shadow Milk Cookie finally glanced up from his work, his golden gaze flickering toward you with quiet intrigue. “And what do you think?”

You hesitated. That was the real question, wasn’t it? You exhaled, shifting in your seat. “I think… I don’t know if I could wait that long. A hundred years is a long time.” You tapped your fingers against the desk idly. “But I guess it depends.”

Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you carefully, setting his quill down. “On what?” You met his gaze. “On the person.” A beat of silence stretched between you. You weren’t sure if he caught the way your voice dipped slightly, the way something quiet curled beneath your words. If he did, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, considering. “A rather pragmatic answer.” You shrugged. “So… would you?” His brow arched slightly. “Would I…?” 

“Wait,” you clarified. “A hundred years. For someone you cared about.” You tried to keep your tone casual, as if this were just another question in a long list of inquiries about philosophy, logic, and the nature of truth itself. But your fingers curled against the fabric of your sleeve. “Would you wait that long for someone?” His eyes searched yours. You forced yourself to hold his gaze, though your heart had a traitorous way of lodging itself in your throat. Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled softly, his fingers pressing together in thought. “I suppose,” he began, voice measured, “that would depend on what awaited at the end of that wait.”

You swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“If one waits a century,” he mused, “it is not merely a question of patience, but of purpose. Is the reunion assured? Or is it a mere hope, a wish cast into the void?” His golden gaze flickered slightly. “If there is certainty. if the one I waited for would be there, unchanged, unwavering then perhaps.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. Then, after a pause one that felt light, almost playful you added, “Are you waiting for someone now?” It was meant to sound like casual curiosity. A natural follow-up. But even you knew better. Something in his expression shifted not in a way that was easily decipherable, but in a way that made your stomach flip nonetheless. He held your gaze for a moment too long. Then, a slow, knowing smile tugged at his lips.

“An interesting question,” he murmured, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Why do you ask?” You forced yourself to shrug. “Just curious.” His expression didn’t change, but there was something about the way he looked at you something you couldn’t quite name. You realize now it’s hard to make out his expressions. Perhaps it’s faint amusement. A quiet knowing. Then just for a moment you swore you saw it again. A flicker of warmth at the tips of his ears. It was gone as soon as you noticed it, replaced by the careful neutrality he always wore so well. Shadow Milk Cookie leaned back slightly, regarding you with interest. “And if I were?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“If I were waiting for someone,” he elaborated, “what would that tell you?” You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because what would that tell you? Your heart was a traitor, thrumming in your chest as if it knew something you didn’t. But you weren’t ready to answer that yet. So instead, you scoffed, crossing your arms. “It would tell me that someone has very high standards if they’re making you wait a hundred years.”

That earned a chuckle from him soft, real. “I see,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “A fair assessment.” And just like that, the moment passed like a leaf caught in the wind, drifting just out of reach. But even as you turned the conversation elsewhere, even as you forced yourself to move on, you couldn’t quite forget the way he looked at you in that fleeting second. Or the way something in your chest felt just a little warmer because of it.

Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you carefully, golden eyes gleaming with quiet curiosity. You weren’t sure why you kept talking why you pushed just a little further. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to know everything about you, yet you knew so little of him. Maybe it was the way he answered without answering, weaving around your questions like a scholar sidestepping an argument they didn’t want to commit to. Or maybe it was something simpler. Something quieter. Maybe you just wanted to hear him say it…whatever it was. You exhaled, leaning your chin into your palm.

“I don’t think I’d even live to a hundred years old,” you mused, keeping your voice light. “A century is a long time to wait for someone.” Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head. “Indeed it is.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, gaze flickering toward him. “If it were me, though…” That caught his attention. His fingers stilled against the parchment. “If I knew it was you,” you continued, voice thoughtful, “I wouldn’t keep you waiting.” A flicker of something crossed his expression so brief you almost missed it. You shrugged, as if the words hadn’t set your heart pounding, as if you were merely speaking in hypotheticals. “I mean, someone as important as you? It’d be ridiculous if someone kept you waiting for a hundred years.” You laughed, trying to pass it off as a casual remark. “Who in their right mind would do that?”

Silence. You expected him to brush it off. To give you some grand, scholarly response about patience, about truth, about the nature of time itself. But he didn’t. Instead, he regarded you for a long, quiet moment, his expression unreadable. Then, so softly you barely caught it he spoke. “Who indeed?” Your breath hitched. It wasn’t a question. It was something else. Something weightier. Something that made warmth coil low in your stomach, even though you weren’t sure why. You blinked, forcing out an awkward chuckle. “Well, it’s just a thought.”

 “Is it?” You froze. He was still watching you, head tilted slightly curious, contemplative. He didn’t press, didn’t pry, but the weight of his gaze alone was enough to send your heart into an uneven rhythm. You swallowed. “Yeah. Just a thought.” He hummed, studying you for a second longer before looking back down at his parchment.

But that flicker of warmth the one you swore you saw, barely dusting the edges of his ears didn’t quite disappear. And neither did the feeling settling into your chest. Shadow Milk Cookie was silent for a beat too long. His quill hovered above parchment, the ink threatening to blot as his golden eyes flickered toward you, unreadable. Yet there was no mistaking the way his ears' traitorous things remained dusted with that telltale warmth. You had caught him off guard. But the Sage of Truth was nothing if not adaptable. Slowly, his lips curled into something unreadable too knowing to be innocent, too amused to be cruel. He set his quill aside with deliberate grace and leaned back ever so slightly, watching you with something that made the space between you feel suddenly smaller. "What about you though...Would you wait for me?" You asked with faux confidence, after all it was just a follow up question nothing more...

"A most fascinating inquiry," he mused, tilting his head. "Tell me, are you testing the limits of my patience? Or is this merely a cunning attempt to unravel the heart of the Sage of Truth?" Your breath hitched. You hadn’t expected him to turn it back on you. He must have noticed, because his smile deepened. "You have already given your answer, have you not?" he continued, fingers steepling as he regarded you.

"You would wait for me. And yet, here you are, asking if I would do the same." His voice lowered mischievous, like a scholar who had just found a contradiction in a well-argued thesis. "Curious. What is it you are truly seeking, I wonder?"

Your face grew warm. "I was just asking," you muttered, crossing your arms. "It’s not that deep." "

Oh?" His golden gaze gleamed. "Not that deep, you say? And yet, you pressed the matter. As if my answer mattered greatly to you." You had never wanted to shrink into your chair so badly. "I was just curious!"

"Ah, curiosity!" He gasped theatrically, placing a hand over his heart as if he had just uncovered a great mystery. "A scholar’s greatest vice. And yet, I cannot help but wonder…" He leaned in just enough to make your breath falter. "Is it truth you seek from me, or something else entirely?"

You opened your mouth then closed it. He had you cornered. And the worst part? He knew it. His expression was far too pleased, as if your silence was the answer he had been seeking all along. "You are unfair," you grumbled, shoving a book toward him in some weak attempt at distraction. He chuckled, the sound richer than you expected.

"Unfair? My dear scholar, it is not I who sought answers this evening." You scowled, looking away. "Just forget I asked."

"Ah, but you did ask." His voice was teasing, yet there was something else beneath it something warmer, more thoughtful. "And for that, I shall give you an answer…" You dared a glance back at him, finding his expression softened. He did not look away. "If it were you," he said, quieter now, "then I suppose…" A pause so brief, yet so heavy.

"Waiting a century would not be such a terrible thing." Your heart stumbled. Before you could react, he picked up his quill again, the moment vanishing as quickly as it had come. "Of course," he added, voice turning light once more, "I imagine it would be quite inconvenient for you. You did say you wouldn’t last a hundred years, after all." You gaped at him. "Are you seriously throwing my own words back at me right now?" He gave you a slow, knowing smile. "Why, of course. What kind of scholar would I be if I ignored inconsistencies?" You groaned, dropping your head onto the desk. The Sage of Truth may have been flustered before. But now? Now, he was enjoying this far too much.

For a long moment, Shadow Milk Cookie said nothing. You weren’t sure if that made it better or worse. The weight of his gaze lingered, golden eyes gleaming with something unreadable something you couldn’t quite grasp. And yet, the corners of his lips twitched, ever so slightly, as if he was holding something back. Amusement? Intrigue? Something crueler? It was almost infuriating. “Curious,” he murmured at last, tapping a gloved finger against his parchment. “You asked such a question, knowing full well what you have already declared.” You frowned, tilting your head. “What?”

 “You claimed you would wait for me,” he said simply. “With that same breath, you asked if I would do the same. Are you hoping to trap me in my own words? Or…” He leaned forward slightly, just enough to be teasing, his voice taking on that lilting quality he used when debating. “Are you seeking something more, something beyond a mere answer?” Heat crept up your neck. “That’s not-” 

“Ah, no need to deny it.” His eyes gleamed, a smirk playing at his lips. “It is only natural. When one flirts with the unknown, they wish for something in return. A revelation. A secret.” He tilted his head, mock-considering. “Perhaps even a promise.”

Your breath caught. He had to be doing this on purpose. You clenched your fists, looking away, frustration bubbling under your skin. It wasn’t just the teasing…it was the way he always did this, always knew more, always stayed just out of reach, dangling answers like bait but never letting you catch them. “I was supposed to be mysterious,” you muttered, your voice quieter now. “Cold, even.” Shadow Milk Cookie blinked. The teasing glint in his eyes faltered, ever so slightly. You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “As silly as it sounds… it’s not fair.” You glanced at him, gaze searching.

 “You know everything about me. Where I come from. My friends. How I react to things. And yet, I barely know anything about you.” A pause. A shift. Your hands curled into your sleeves. “It’s not fair.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a long moment, his smirk fading into something quieter, something more thoughtful. The playful glint in his eyes dimmed not gone, but subdued, as if considering your words in a way he hadn’t before. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a soft chuckle. “Ah… so that is what troubles you.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, fingers steepled together.

 “You wish for the truth, yet I remain an enigma. A most tragic plight.” “Don’t mock me,” you mumbled. “Oh, but I wouldn’t dare.” He tapped a finger against his temple, a slow, thoughtful motion. “It is true, I know much about you. Perhaps… an unfair advantage, as you say.” You raised a brow, wary. “And?” He hummed, as if considering. Then, he smiled mischievous, teasing, but not unkind. “Very well,” he said lightly. “Ask, then.” You blinked. “What?”

 “Ask,” he repeated, tilting his head. “Since you wish to know me as I know you… ask a question. Any question.” His voice dipped slightly, a challenge hidden beneath the invitation. “Let us see if you are ready for the answers you seek.” Your heart thumped. You swallowed. For all your complaints, for all your frustrations, you had not expected him to offer this. And yet… now that he had… What would you even ask?

For a moment, you hesitated. Not because you didn’t have anything to ask, but because there were too many things. Countless questions had been building in your mind since the day you met him things he sidestepped, things he answered only in riddles. But if this was your only chance… if he truly meant only one question… You had to make it count. Your fingers curled against the table. “Were you always immortal?” Shadow Milk Cookie stilled. The glint of amusement in his eyes faded, replaced by something quiet.

For the first time, he looked… caught off guard. You had never seen him hesitate like this before. The weight of the silence between you thickened, pressing against your ribs. He did not scoff, nor tease, nor weave his way around the question like he usually would. Instead, he merely studied you, his golden eyes flickering with something distant. Finally, he spoke. “I was made this way.” His voice was softer than you expected. Not heavy. Not sad. But… thoughtful.

Carefully measured. You watched him, searching his expression. “You were made immortal?” He nodded, fingers tracing the edges of his parchment, though his focus was nowhere near it. “From the moment I came into being, time held no claim over me. It was never a question of fate or choice. It simply was.” The way he said it was almost… detached. As if he were reciting something from a book, something he had accepted long ago. Your heart thumped, but you pushed further. “So you’ve never known anything else?” A soft chuckle escaped him not mocking, but almost… amused by the idea itself. “No. I have not.”

You bit your lip. That answer felt so final, so matter-of-fact. But something about it gnawed at you. Because if he had never known anything else… had he ever wanted to? You hesitated, then asked the next question before you could stop yourself. “And do you ever wish you weren’t?” This time, he truly paused. His fingers stilled against the parchment. Golden eyes met yours, and for the first time, you weren’t sure what you saw in them. He did not answer immediately. The silence stretched not uncomfortable, not tense, but thick with something unspoken. Something considering. He exhaled softly, tilting his head. “You do not hesitate to dive straight into the depths, do you?”

“You said I was allowed to ask,” you murmured, voice steady despite the warmth creeping up your neck. “I had to make it count.”

Shadow Milk Cookie studied you for a long moment before letting out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Ever the scholar, seeking the deeper truths.” He hummed, almost to himself. “And yet… you are the first to ask me this.” Your breath caught. The first? Before you could dwell on that, he leaned forward slightly, resting his chin against his steepled fingers.

“There are those who would envy my existence,” he said, voice measured. “To be free of time’s grasp, to witness centuries unfold like pages in a grand tome… It is a privilege few could even fathom.” You swallowed. “That’s not an answer.” His lips curved not quite a smile, but something close.

“No, I suppose it is not.” A flicker of warmth coiled low in your stomach. He wasn’t avoiding the question not exactly. But he was making you wait for it. So you did. You held his gaze, waiting. Finally he spoke. “There are moments,” he admitted, almost absently, “when I wonder.” Your fingers curled against the desk. “I do not regret what I am,” he continued, as if carefully choosing each word. “Nor do I mourn a life I have never known.” A pause. A slow inhale. “But to exist beyond time… is to be a witness, never truly a participant.”

A witness. Your stomach twisted at the weight of that. “How lonely,” you whispered. His eyes flickered. You hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Another silence stretched between you, heavier this time. And then slowly, deliberately his smirk returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Ah,” he mused, tilting his head. “And here I thought I was meant to be the enigmatic one.” You rolled your eyes, but your chest still felt tight. “You still haven’t really answered me.”

“Haven’t I?” You scowled. “Not properly.” A thoughtful hum. “Perhaps not.” You huffed, crossing your arms. “Then at least answer this if you could choose, right now, to be mortal… would you?” Another pause. A longer one. His gaze met yours, not just glanced, not just observed, but looked. As if he were weighing something unseen, something vast and unspoken. Then, very softly he answered. “I do not know.” Something in your chest ached at that. Since you met him, you weren’t sure who had truly won this exchange. You hesitated for only a moment before exhaling, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "Well… if it makes you feel any better, we’re friends now...remember?."

A/N Sometimes it really is easier to put a band aid over it ㄟ( ▔, ▔ )ㄏ In other news I did not do as great as I thought on that chem exam...However, I still have 2 more exams to lock in for...but I got a 93 on my philosophy midterm sooooo, it balances out sort of...

Anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

<<<Previous Next>>>

[0zozone]

prof shmilk couldn't stand my stupid ass. i can't remember stuff like 2 x 2 off the top of my head, i have to take a second to think about it

don't worry he likes you dumb :) fewer chances for you to escape

[0zozone]

This fic is so good i had to read it in class AAAHHHH

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 6

<<<Previous Next>>>

The sun felt like it was shining more brightly today, you hadn’t even realized you were smiling.

Professor Almond Cookie’s voice droned on, his chalk tapping rhythmically against the board as he worked through another intricate magical theorem. Normally, you would’ve been struggling to keep up, your notes a frantic mess of half-understood scribbles and desperate attempts to make sense of it all. But today? Today felt… different. Maybe it was the fact that, for once, you actually understood the material. Or perhaps it was the lingering satisfaction of yesterday’s study session the way Shadow Milk Cookie had walked you through his research, answering your questions without outright dismissing you. Or it was just the sheer novelty of not feeling completely lost in class for once. Whatever the reason, you found yourself nodding along, absorbing the lesson with a sense of ease you hadn’t experienced before. You weren’t just bracing for the inevitable wave of confusion. You were actually following along. It was such an unfamiliar feeling that you hadn’t even noticed the small, contented smile on your face. At least, not until Professor Almond Cookie’s voice suddenly cut through the lecture. “Well, someone looks rather pleased with themselves today,” he commented, his sharp eyes flicking toward you. Your entire body tensed. The murmuring of students around you made it clear that you weren’t the only one who had noticed. A few curious glances were thrown your way, some amused, some confused. You could practically hear Chai Latte Cookie stifling a giggle from somewhere behind you. Heat crept up your face as you quickly tried to school your expression into something more neutral. “I-uh-um…just” you stammered, scrambling for an excuse. “It’s a nice day?” A few students chuckled. Professor Almond Cookie gave you an unimpressed look before sighing. “As long as that ‘nice day’ includes understanding this formula, then by all means, continue smiling.”

You gave a weak, awkward laugh. “Y-yeah, of course.” Professor Almond Cookie shook his head and returned to the lesson, and the class gradually settled again. But for the rest of the lecture, you found yourself a little more aware of the way your expression betrayed your thoughts. Not that you could help it. Because as much as you tried to brush it off, you couldn’t quite shake the satisfaction of actually knowing what was going on for once. As soon as class let out, you barely had time to gather your notes before Chai Latte Cookie sidled up beside you, her eyes practically gleaming with mischief. "So," she began, stretching out the word as she leaned in ever so slightly. "Are we going to talk about that?" You blinked, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. "Talk about what?" Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, who had been lazily packing up his things, let out a small huff of amusement. "You were grinning like you’d just discovered the meaning of life." "I was not grinning," you defended, though even you weren’t convinced by your own words. Earl Grey Cookie, ever the composed one, simply adjusted his glasses and gave you a thoughtful look. "You did seem rather… pleased during the lecture. A stark contrast from your usual expressions of despair." You frowned. "Wow. Thanks for that." Chai Latte Cookie giggled, linking her arm with yours as you all made your way toward the hallway. "Oh, don’t be so grumpy! It’s cute seeing you happy for once." You groaned, rolling your eyes. "I was just… following along with the lesson, that’s all. I actually understood what was going on for once. Isn’t that enough of a reason to smile?"

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised a skeptical brow. "I mean, yeah, but this-" he gestured vaguely toward you "was something else." "I don’t know what you’re talking about," you muttered, picking up your pace slightly. "Oh, I do," Chai Latte Cookie chimed, a grin spreading across her face. You froze for a half-second before cautiously glancing her way. "…What are you implying?" Chai Latte Cookie’s grin only widened. "I’m just saying," she began, voice light and teasing, "that someone has been spending a lot of time with a certain very renowned scholar lately." Your stomach dropped. "No." "Yes," she countered immediately, her voice practically dripping with glee. "Absolutely not," you insisted. "Absolutely yes." You groaned again, face heating up against your will. "That has nothing to do with this!" Chai Latte Cookie feigned deep contemplation. "Hmm. I don’t know… You have been smiling a lot more ever since your little tutoring sessions started. And we all know how captivating the Sage of Truth can be…"

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. "He is kind of hard to ignore." "You guys are ridiculous," you said, pressing a hand to your forehead. Chai Latte Cookie merely gave you a knowing look. "Oh, come on, I’m just teasing! Unless, of course…" She trailed off, watching you expectantly. You let out an exasperated sigh. "I am not smiling because of him." Earl Grey Cookie chuckled, shaking his head. "They do protest quite a bit, don’t they?" "Right?" Chai Latte Cookie beamed. You groaned for what felt like the hundredth time, covering your face with your hands. "I swear it’s just because I actually understood class today! That’s all! No great mystery, no hidden meaning, just me finally grasping something for once in my life!" Chai Latte Cookie patted your arm sympathetically. "Mhm. Whatever you say." You huffed, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response. But even as the conversation shifted and your friends moved on to other topics, you couldn’t quite shake the tiny flicker of warmth in your chest. As you all walked through the winding halls of Blueberry Yogurt Academy, the conversation drifted from playful teasing to more mundane topics, assignments, upcoming exams, and rumors about the latest bizarre experiment gone wrong in the Regretful Alchemist’s laboratory. Still, no matter how much you tried to push it aside, that warmth in your chest lingered. The memory of Shadow Milk Cookie’s measured voice, the way he had indulged your questions rather than dismissing them, the rare glint of amusement in his eyes when you had stumbled over your words, it all lingered in your mind far longer than you were willing to admit.

You weren’t smiling because of him. You weren’t. You were just… relieved. That was it. Relieved that, for once, you hadn’t felt completely lost. That, despite your missteps and distractions, Shadow Milk Cookie had still guided you back on course, patient as ever. That his words, refined and precise, had somehow begun to make sense to you in a way they never had before. It was just relief. That’s all. "And there they go again," Chai Latte Cookie murmured, breaking you from your thoughts. You blinked, looking up to see all three of your friends watching you with varying degrees of amusement. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned back slightly, arms crossed. "They were definitely thinking about him just now." "I was not!" Earl Grey Cookie sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Perhaps we should focus on more pressing matters. Like the essay due at the end of the week?" You latched onto the change of subject like a lifeline. "Yes! Exactly! That’s important!" Chai Latte Cookie gave you a look that made it clear she wasn’t fooled in the slightest, but mercifully, she let it go. For now. "Fine, fine," she relented with a dramatic sigh. "But one day, you’re going to admit it." "There’s nothing to admit," you shot back immediately. Chai Latte Cookie merely smiled knowingly. You quickened your pace, pretending not to hear the quiet laughter behind you. Getting to the alchemy lab was not difficult Hazelnut Biscotti and Earl Grey parted ways with you. Chai latte clinging to your side.

The alchemy classroom hummed with quiet anticipation, the scent of charred herbs and alchemical residue thick in the air. You barely registered the professor’s words as you copied down the instructions written on the board, your focus narrowed to the familiar rhythm of ink against parchment. Today’s lab was supposed to be more dangerous than usual, some kind of volatile reaction that required extra precautions. You understood that much. But beyond that, your attention remained fixed on transcribing formulas, ensuring you didn’t miss a single step. If anything went wrong, it wouldn’t be because of careless note-taking.

Chai Latte Cookie, sitting beside you, nudged your arm lightly. "You should look up," she murmured. You frowned, still writing. "Why?" A pause. Then, quieter, almost careful  "Because you’ll want to see this." Something in her tone made you hesitate. Slowly, you lifted your head. The doors to the classroom had opened, and a procession of scholars entered, their presence commanding immediate attention. Their robes were fine, embroidered with sigils of knowledge and alchemical mastery, their movements fluid with the quiet confidence of those accustomed to the pursuit of truth. Even without knowing their names, it was obvious these were not ordinary visitors. And then you saw him. At the center of them all, standing as if he belonged to a world just slightly above this one, was the Sage of Truth. Ornate robes of pale blue and gold draped over his frame, each fold and embellishment arranged with deliberate elegance. The patterns woven into the fabric seemed almost celestial like the swirling paths of constellations mapped onto cloth. His hat, large and elaborately designed, cast a subtle shadow over his face, but it did nothing to diminish the intensity of his gaze.

Your breath caught in your throat. Shadow Milk Cookie had an undeniable presence, one that didn’t need to be announced. The scholars beside him seemed almost secondary, as though their prestige dimmed in comparison to his quiet authority. He wasn’t speaking, wasn’t even moving much, yet you could already feel the weight of his scrutiny, the sheer depth of knowledge that followed him like an unspoken force. You swallowed. Chai Latte Cookie gave you a sidelong glance, but she didn’t tease. "I told you," she simply said. You barely heard her. Professor Star Anise cleared his throat, drawing the class’s attention back. "Today, you will be paired with one of these esteemed scholars for guidance. I expect your full cooperation." He glanced at his list. "Now then…" Names were called. Students hesitantly stepped forward to meet their assigned mentors, each movement charged with restrained nerves. And then "Ah." The professor’s gaze landed on you. "You will be under the Sage of Truth’s supervision today." A quiet stillness settled over you. You didn’t move, didn’t react right away. You only felt the weight of the words settle over you like an inevitability one you weren’t quite ready for. Chai Latte Cookie exhaled softly. Not in amusement, but in something gentler. Understanding. You swallowed again and slowly rose to your feet.

Your fingers curled around the edge of your desk as you willed yourself to speak up again, despite the nervous weight pressing down on your chest. “Professor?” Your voice was quiet, but it still managed to carry through the murmurs of the class. Professor Star Anise glanced up, his expression patient. “Yes?” You swallowed, forcing yourself to push past the hesitation. “If-If we’re working with the scholars, does that mean we won’t be with our usual lab partners?” The professor gave a thoughtful nod. “That’s correct. Given the complexity of today’s reactions, I’ve assigned you to scholars who can best assist you.” You hesitated, shifting slightly in your seat. “Would it… would it be possible for my partner to stay with me? We usually work together, and-” You hesitated again, feeling the weight of eyes on you. “I just think it might be easier that way.” Chai Latte Cookie, seated beside you, offered the faintest reassuring smile. Professor Star Anise regarded you for a moment before exhaling through his nose. “I understand your reasoning, but I’ve made these assignments carefully.” His tone was kind, but firm. “I trust you’ll be in capable hands.”

Your stomach twisted. You already knew the answer, but hearing it confirmed made your shoulders sink slightly. “I… Okay,” you mumbled, staring down at your desk. A quiet pause. Then, a voice, smooth and unwavering. “I assure you,” The sage of truth said, his words carrying the effortless certainty he always spoke with, “you will be quite alright.” You stiffened, hands tightening slightly. You had barely even looked at him yet, too caught up in your own worries, but now there was no avoiding it. Slowly, hesitantly, you forced yourself to glance in his direction. He stood poised as ever, the flowing blues and golds of his ornate robes unruffled, his expression calm and composed. The golden key at his side caught the light as he tilted his head slightly, studying you with an unreadable gaze. The assurance in his voice wasn’t forceful, nor was it dismissive. It simply was as though any other possibility was unthinkable. Chai Latte Cookie gently nudged your arm, and you let out a quiet breath. “…Right,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. There was no room left to argue.

As you followed Shadow Milk Cookie to the designated workstation, you tried to steady your breathing. The weight of the situation pressed down on you the unfamiliar setup, the intricate formulas written across the chalkboard, the hushed murmurs of students pairing off with scholars. And, most of all, him. The Sage of Truth moved with a deliberate grace, his ornate coat trailing slightly behind him, the golden key at his side swaying with each step. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter, didn’t seem the least bit burdened by the sheer pressure of expectation that always seemed to surround him. Meanwhile, you could barely keep your hands from fidgeting. As the two of you arrived at the workstation, your eyes flickered to the various alchemical components laid out before you. Vials of shimmering liquids, delicate crystalline powders, and enchanted catalysts glowing faintly under the laboratory’s light. The experiment ahead was clearly complex. You exhaled slowly, then, before you could stop yourself, muttered, "Did you choose me for this, or is fate just playing some kind of sick joke on me?" Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t react immediately. He carefully adjusted the sleeves of his robe, ensuring they wouldn’t interfere with the materials before him. Then, in that same measured, ever-assured voice, he replied, “Ah. An inquiry about destiny’s hand in our arrangement.” He turned slightly, and for the first time since you’d been paired together, truly looked at you. His gaze was unreadable somewhere between amused and thoughtful. “Do you believe fate conspires against you?” You hesitated, suddenly regretting asking at all. “It certainly feels that way sometimes.” He hummed, as though considering your words carefully. Then, with the smallest trace of something almost teasing though still draped in his usual scholarly refinement he added, “If I had chosen you, would that be more or less distressing?” You nearly choked on air. “That’s-” You scrambled for a response, heat creeping up your neck. “That’s not…I just meant” Shadow Milk Cookie let out a quiet, knowing hum. “I see.” Then, as if the conversation had already been neatly wrapped up, he gestured toward the materials before you. “Come. We have work to do.” You swallowed hard, trying to push past the lingering flustered feeling. Whether fate was playing a cruel joke or not, you had no choice but to endure.

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping after him, keeping just a half-step behind as he guided you toward the workstation. The weight of the situation should have been pressing on your mind the delicate nature of the alchemical reactions you’d be performing, the risks involved, and the sheer importance of today’s lesson. Yet, all you could think about was him. How he carried himself with the same composed elegance as always, his long, ornate coat flowing effortlessly as he moved. The golden key at his side gleamed under the soft glow of the alchemical lamps, and his presence calm, assured, and unwavering. It was enough to make your stomach twist with nervous energy. You bit your lip before finally mustering the courage to speak. "So… you never answered my question," you said quietly, keeping your eyes on the floor as you followed him. "Did you choose me for this?" Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t falter in his step. If anything, he seemed to have anticipated your persistence. “What an intriguing notion,” he mused, tone as measured as ever. “Does the possibility unsettle you?” You frowned slightly. "That’s not an answer." He let out a soft hum, pausing briefly as he reached your workstation. Only then did he turn to face you, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Would you prefer if I had?" he asked, his voice carrying the same careful curiosity he applied to his scholarly inquiries. “Or would the idea trouble you further?” You opened your mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond. Because, really what was the better answer? If he had chosen you, that meant he had seen something in you. But if he hadn’t, then that meant you were just some unlucky student swept up in an arbitrary pairing. Neither option felt particularly comforting. You swallowed. "I just want to know why." Shadow Milk Cookie studied you for a moment before finally offering a small, knowing smile. "Perhaps," he said, turning his attention to the alchemical components laid out before you, "this is an opportunity to uncover the truth for yourself."

You stared at him, feeling somehow even more flustered than before. "…That’s not an answer either," you muttered under your breath. His quiet chuckle sent warmth creeping up your spine. "Ah, but it is an invitation," he countered smoothly. "Now, shall we begin?" You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to focus. Whether he had chosen you or not, you were stuck with him now. And something told you that no matter how many questions you asked, he would always find a way to leave you with even more. You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck before finally admitting, “It’s nothing against you. It just… feels like more eyes are on me because you’re here.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you with quiet amusement, tilting his head slightly. “Oh? And why might that be?” You gave him a look. “You do realize you’re you, right?” His expression didn’t change, but the slight upward twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. “An astute observation. I am, indeed, myself.” You exhaled sharply through your nose, not quite a laugh, but close. “That’s not what I meant.” You shifted uneasily, glancing around before lowering your voice. “You’re one of the most respected scholars in the Academy. Everyone looks up to you. Of course they’re going to be paying more attention.” You hesitated, then admitted, “It makes me nervous.”

Shadow Milk Cookie was silent for a beat, watching you with an unreadable expression. Then, in a tone softer than before, he said, “I see.” You weren’t sure what you expected him to say after that, but he didn’t push further. He simply observed, waiting for what, you weren’t sure. Maybe for you to say more. Or for you to process your own thoughts. And against your better judgment, you did say more. “…But,” you continued hesitantly, eyes fixed on the alchemical components before you, “if I had to be paired with a high-ranking scholar… I think I’m a little glad it’s you.” That seemed to surprise him, if only slightly. “Oh?” You nodded, though you still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. “Anyone else would have been way more intimidating. At least” You hesitated before forcing yourself to say it. “At least I know you’re patient.” A brief silence stretched between you, and for a moment, you worried you’d said too much. “Patience is merely the willingness to uncover truth at its own pace,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “And if truth requires time, then who am I to rush it?” You finally glanced up at him, unsure what you’d find in his expression. But there was no judgment, no unreadable amusement, just quiet understanding. You exhaled, some of your tension easing. “…Alright,” you murmured, glancing at the alchemical setup once more. “Let’s get started.” At least the weight of the watching eyes didn’t feel quite as suffocating.

You took a steadying breath as you turned your attention to the experiment before you. The alchemical setup gleamed under the warm glow of the enchanted lamps overhead. Delicate glassware, vials of shimmering liquids, and carefully measured ingredients laid out with meticulous precision. Shadow Milk Cookie moved with practiced ease, adjusting a few instruments before glancing at you. “We will begin with the base mixture. Would you care to measure the powdered lunar salt?” You hesitated, then nodded, reaching for the container. Your hands were steady, mostly, but the weight of expectation still pressed on you. Carefully, you scooped out the precise amount, adding it to the main flask where a pale, viscous solution swirled. A quiet hum of approval came from your partner. “Good. Now, we must introduce the catalyst.” You watched as he retrieved a small vial of deep blue liquid…something rare, no doubt. When he uncorked it, the scent of frost and starlight filled the air, tinged with a metallic edge. “The key is controlled diffusion,” he explained, lifting a delicate stirring rod. “Too much at once, and the reaction will destabilize.” You swallowed, watching closely as he poured the catalyst in a slow, deliberate stream, swirling the mixture with measured movements. The liquid inside the flask pulsed faintly, then settled into a mesmerizing gradient of gold and blue. “Your turn,” he said, stepping back slightly to allow you space.

You reached for the rod, hyper-aware of how close he was as you mimicked his motions. The swirling liquid responded in kind, shimmering under the alchemical lights. For a moment, you forgot the audience. Forgot the weight of being watched. It was just you, the experiment, and the guidance of the scholar beside you. Then a sudden shift. The mixture in the flask flickered, deepening into a shade it shouldn’t be. You stiffened. “…That’s not right, is it?” you asked, barely above a whisper. Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze remained steady. “It is… unexpected,” he admitted. “But not unmanageable.” Your breath caught as the flask began to vibrate slightly, unstable energy coursing through it. Your instinct was to pull back to stop but his voice, calm and unwavering, cut through your panic. “Focus,” he said. “Balance the reaction. Slowly, now.” You nodded, heart hammering, and adjusted your movements just as he had shown you. Gradually, the instability eased, the mixture settling back into a controlled glow. You exhaled deeply, barely realizing you had been holding your breath. Shadow Milk Cookie studied you for a moment before offering a small nod. “Well done.” You blinked at him, still processing. “I… almost messed that up.” “And yet, you corrected it,” he countered smoothly. “That is what matters.” You hesitated, then let out a breathy, nervous chuckle. “…Thanks.” A flicker of something passed through his expression approval, perhaps? Whatever it was, he merely inclined his head before turning his focus back to the experiment.  You took another steadying breath before glancing at Shadow Milk Cookie. “What next?”

He studied the flask for a moment, the swirling colors reflected in his golden eyes. Then, with the same measured composure he always carried, he gestured toward a small container filled with crystalline fragments. “Next, we introduce the stabilizing agent. Starshard resin highly reactive, but essential for balancing the mixture’s volatility.” You nodded, reaching for the container. As you did, you hesitated, glancing at him for confirmation. “How much?” “A single shard will suffice,” he answered. “Too much, and the reaction will become inert. Too little, and the previous instability may return.” Right. No pressure. You carefully selected a shard, its surface glittering under the light. Holding it between your fingers, you hovered it over the flask, nerves prickling under your skin. You’d already nearly thrown the entire reaction off once…what if?... A gentle movement caught your eye. Shadow Milk Cookie had inclined his head ever so slightly, watching you with quiet patience. There was no exasperation, just that ever-present expectation that you could do this. You swallowed and dropped the shard in. The liquid shimmered, a soft glow pulsing outward as the colors settled into a stable gradient. The mixture no longer wavered or flickered unpredictably; instead, it swirled with a controlled, mesmerizing luminescence. A slow nod from your partner. “Excellent.” You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “That’s… good, right?” He offered the faintest smile. “Very.” Relief flooded your chest, and you allowed yourself a small, triumphant exhale. Maybe this experiment wouldn’t end in disaster after all. As the final step of the experiment settled, the solution in the flask transformed into a breathtaking metallic blue, shimmering as if tiny stars were suspended within. You stared, entranced, as the light caught the swirling liquid, making it look like an entire night sky had been condensed into the glass.

“Whoa…” The word left you in a quiet breath, eyes wide with awe. “That’s… beautiful.” Shadow Milk Cookie observed the reaction with a satisfied nod, the glow reflecting in his golden eyes. “A most pleasing result.” You hesitated for a moment before glancing at him. “What was the point of this experiment, anyway?” He tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the question. “A lesson in balance,” he said. “The components we used were all volatile in their own right. Alone, they would break down, scatter, or collapse under their own instability. Yet together, in precise measure, they created something stable something greater than the sum of their parts.” You looked back at the flask, mesmerized. “So… it was never just about creating this solution?” A quiet chuckle. “Not entirely.” Your fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table. You weren’t sure why, but something about his words lingered in your mind, heavier than they should have. You traced a finger along the glass, watching the swirling glow. “I think I get it,” you murmured, though whether you meant the experiment or something else entirely, you weren’t sure.

You glanced around the laboratory, noting that several other groups were still deep in their experiments, some struggling with their mixtures while others cautiously double-checked their notes. You, on the other hand, were done. The shimmering blue solution in front of you felt like an accomplishment, yet now that the task was over, a strange uncertainty settled in your chest. Shifting slightly, you turned to Shadow Milk Cookie. “So… when can we go?” you asked, keeping your voice low. “Do we have to wait for everyone else to finish?” He hummed thoughtfully, glancing toward the professor, who was making rounds to observe the other students. “We have completed the task, and our results are satisfactory,” he mused. “However, it is customary to remain until the session is dismissed. There may yet be additional instruction.” You deflated slightly, though you supposed it made sense. Still, sitting here under the weight of so many glances your classmates sneaking looks at him rather than you made your skin prickle with unease. You hesitated before speaking again. “Right. Makes sense,” you said, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “Guess we just… wait, then.” He glanced at you, seemingly taking note of your discomfort. “Patience,” he said, his tone lighter than usual, “is a virtue in both alchemy and scholarship.” You sighed, resting your chin on your hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’m working on it.” You exhaled softly, letting the tension in your shoulders ease as you traced a finger along the edge of the worktable. Despite the lingering weight of the classroom’s watchful eyes, you found yourself… comfortable. Maybe not entirely at ease, but far from the nervous wreck you had been when these tutoring sessions started.

Your gaze flickered toward Shadow Milk Cookie, who stood beside you with his usual composed air, observing the finished experiment with satisfaction. Your eyes drifted upward, and before you could think twice, the words slipped out. “So… your hat.” He turned to you, one brow raising ever so slightly. “My hat?” You nodded, the corners of your mouth tugging up just a little. “Yeah. It’s, uh… it’s kinda goofy.” His expression didn’t change at first, and for a split second, you wondered if you’d made a mistake. But then soft laughter. Amused, almost entertained by your observation. “Goofy, you say?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly, as if considering the idea. You nodded again, a bit bolder now. “I mean, it’s a lot of hat. But, somehow… you make it work.” His hand rose to the brim of the ornate headpiece, as if weighing your words. “A scholar’s presentation is part of their presence,” he mused, voice still carrying the traces of laughter. “A symbol of the knowledge they carry. But I admit, few would dare to call it goofy to my face.” You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “Guess I’m just special, then.” He regarded you for a moment, and there was something unreadable yet pleased in his expression. “Indeed,” he said softly. “You are.” The warmth that flickered in your chest caught you off guard. 

Your breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t just the words…though those alone were enough to leave you stunned but the way he said them. So certain, so matter-of-fact, like it was the simplest truth in the world. Like you being special was something undeniable. You had admired him for so long from afar, from behind the pages of scholarly texts that quoted his insights, from lecture halls where his presence was spoken of with reverence. And now, here he was, standing beside you, speaking to you, as if you had always belonged in this space. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came. What could you possibly say? That you had spent so much time struggling, thinking you would never measure up? That you had feared he would see you as just another lost cause? That hearing those words from him made your heart stutter in a way you weren’t prepared to face? Instead, you simply stared, awe-struck, your mind blank yet full all at once. Shadow Milk Cookie observed you with quiet patience, his expression unreadable yet steady. He did not press you for a response. He did not look away. He simply waited, as if he had already seen the truth resting in your silence. And for once, silence didn’t feel like failure.

You blinked rapidly, snapping yourself out of your stunned silence. Heat crept up your neck as you scrambled to ground yourself in something anything that wasn’t the overwhelming weight of admiration threatening to root you in place. Right. Your study session. That was something normal, something expected. Something safe. "Um-our study session," you blurted out, your voice coming out a little more rushed than you intended. "We were supposed to meet today, right?" Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head slightly, as if considering your words before offering a small shake of his head. "Not today," he said, his tone smooth but not unkind. "I am overseeing this lab throughout the day. You are not my only partner in this endeavor." For reasons you couldn’t quite place, your chest tightened at that. It made sense, of course he was an esteemed scholar, not some personal tutor at your beck and call. But hearing it phrased like that, a small, silly part of you felt… disappointed? You weren’t sure. "Oh," you said, shifting your weight slightly. "Right. That makes sense." Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a moment before offering something almost resembling reassurance. "Worry not," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "We will resume our studies soon enough. But for now, I am needed here." You nodded quickly, as if to dismiss the feeling gnawing at you. "Of course. I wasn’t- I mean, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t forget or anything." The Sage of Truth hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than expected before he finally turned his attention back to the shimmering solution before you. You followed suit, exhaling quietly. You were being ridiculous. This wasn’t anything personal. You weren’t special. And yet, some irrational part of you wanted to be.

As the last group of students wrapped up their experiments, the professor strode to the front of the room, clearing their throat to signal the beginning of the lecture. The bubbling conversations and the occasional clinking of glassware died down as everyone turned their attention forward. You did the same, quickly straightening in your seat and focusing on the professor’s words. Or, at least, you tried to. As the professor began their lecture, you did your best to focus, keeping your eyes trained forward and your hands neatly folded on the desk. You had made it through the experiment without completely embarrassing yourself now you just had to survive the rest of class. Everything was going well. That is, until you noticed the faintest movement in your peripheral vision. You ignored it at first. Then, the movement happened again. A slow, deliberate flicker of motion from across the room too calculated to be accidental. Against your better judgment, you risked a quick glance. Chai Latte Cookie, seated innocently in her spot, was doing absolutely nothing suspicious. Her hands were primly folded on her desk, her expression perfectly neutral as if she were deeply engaged in the lecture. You narrowed your eyes slightly. That was when you saw it the tiniest, most imperceptible tilt of her head in your direction. You frowned. Then, she very subtly flicked her gaze toward Shadow Milk Cookie beside you. Your stomach dropped. You quickly looked forward again, pretending as though you hadn’t seen anything. She wouldn’t try anything else. Not in the middle of a lecture. Right? Wrong. A moment later, you felt something gently brush against your arm. Your breath hitched. Slowly, carefully, you glanced down. A tiny, folded scrap of paper. You shot a sharp look across the room, but Chai Latte Cookie still looked perfectly composed, her gaze fixed on the professor as if she hadn’t just somehow slipped a note across the distance between you. How did she even do that? Right teleportation magic. Something she was able to grasp so easily, you however struggled. For a few moments, you debated whether to open it at all. But, ultimately, your curiosity got the better of you. With careful fingers, you unfolded the tiny note beneath the desk. Inside, in her neat, playful handwriting, was a single sentence  So… is he even more impressive up close? Your face burned instantly. Horrified, you clenched the note in your fist and desperately resisted the urge to look in her direction. Chai Latte Cookie did not need to see your reaction. She absolutely did not need that satisfaction. Instead, you kept your eyes forward, forcing yourself to focus on the lecture, even as you knew that Chai Latte Cookie was grinning to herself across the room.

You took a slow, steady breath, keeping your expression neutral. It’s just admiration, you told yourself firmly. That’s all it’s ever been. Shadow Milk Cookie was a renowned scholar, a beacon of knowledge of truth itself. Admiring him was only natural. Anyone with an appreciation for wisdom and discovery would feel the same. Chai Latte Cookie was just being her usual self, always reading into things that weren’t there. With quiet determination, you smoothed out the crumpled note beneath the desk and discreetly tore it into tiny, unrecognizable pieces before slipping them into your pocket. If she thought she was going to get a reaction out of you, she was sorely mistaken. You squared your shoulders, fixing your gaze firmly on the professor as they continued their lecture. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just admiration.You kept your eyes trained on the professor, feigning complete focus, though you could practically feel Chai Latte Cookie’s mischievous energy radiating from across the room. It was only a matter of time before she tried something subtle enough to avoid outright scolding, but persistent enough to drive you to the edge of your patience.

And sure enough, just as you began taking notes, the first attack came. A small, folded scrap of parchment landed neatly beside your hand, so precise in its trajectory that you knew it had been aimed with great care. You hesitated. A second passed. Then two. You could ignore it. Act like you hadn’t noticed…Another piece of parchment followed, this time making a soft, deliberate tap against your elbow.

You sighed, unfolding the first one under the desk with as little movement as possible. "So... are you going to admit it yet?  ;)" You rolled your eyes and immediately began tearing the parchment into tiny, unrecognizable shreds before stuffing them into your pocket. A second later, another note landed. "Don’t think I didn’t see that smile earlier. You liiiiike hiiim~" You nearly choked on air, snapping your head up in alarm before forcing yourself to feign normalcy. Across the room, Chai Latte Cookie offered you an innocent, almost angelic smile, resting her chin on her palm like she was simply daydreaming. You shot her a glare. She only grinned wider. The worst part? You knew she wasn’t going to stop. Just as you turned back to your notes, another note slid into your peripheral vision. "It’s okay! He is very charming. Wise, elegant, strangely handsome in that ‘all-knowing scholar’ way… And that hat! Don’t even get me started on the hat" You shredded this one even faster. A soft hum of curiosity beside you made your stomach drop. "You seem rather preoccupied," Shadow Milk Cookie observed, his voice smooth and thoughtful as he turned toward you ever so slightly. "Yet I do not recall the professor’s lecture containing anything so… perplexing." Your whole body tensed as warmth crept up your neck. Oh no. Chai Latte Cookie was going to love this. "Just, uh… reviewing my notes," you lied through your teeth, quickly scribbling something down in a desperate attempt to look studious. Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a moment, his keen gaze unreadable beneath the brim of his elaborate hat. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Ah. Ever diligent," he mused, though there was something knowing in his tone, as if he were filing this moment away for later contemplation. "A fine quality, indeed." You forced a small, tight-lipped smile, desperately hoping that would be the end of it. It wasn’t. Because the second Shadow Milk Cookie turned his attention back to the lecture, another note landed on your lap, as if Chai Latte Cookie had been waiting for the perfect moment. "Did he just call you diligent? Ohhh, he totally likes you too." You buried your face in your hands, mentally preparing for the longest lecture of your life. Sometimes you wished she would lose the ability to read lips.

As the professor dismissed the class, you took a moment to carefully set down your notes, stealing a glance at the shimmering blue solution you had created under Shadow Milk Cookie’s guidance. The way it caught the light, glimmering like stars, still left you in awe. You turned to Shadow Milk Cookie, hesitating for just a second before inclining your head respectfully. “Thank you for your guidance today, Sage of Truth.” He regarded you with that unwavering composure of his, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze, curiosity, perhaps? It was always difficult to tell with him. “There is no need to thank me,” he said smoothly, folding his hands behind his back. “Knowledge is meant to be shared, after all. Though, I must admit, you performed admirably today.” Your breath hitched slightly at the unexpected praise. “Oh…I, um. I just followed your instructions.” He gave a thoughtful hum, tilting his head slightly. “Many can follow instructions, yet still falter in execution. But you” He gestured ever so slightly toward the completed experiment. “proved otherwise.” Your face grew warm at the compliment, and you quickly busied yourself with adjusting the strap of your bag. “Well… I had a good teacher.” At that, the Sage of Truth let out a soft chuckle, a sound so rare and fleeting you almost wondered if you had imagined it. “Flattery will not change the truth, but it is noted nonetheless.” Your heart did something strange at his words, and you nearly forgot why you had been so eager to leave the classroom in the first place. Right. Chai Latte Cookie. You straightened up, taking a small step back. “I should be going now. Thank you again, Sage of Truth.” “May the pursuit of knowledge guide your path,” he replied, his tone as composed as ever. You nodded quickly, then turned on your heel and made a beeline for the door, only to catch sight of Chai Latte Cookie already watching you with that look as she leaned against the hallway wall. Oh. Oh no. You barely had time to brace yourself before she wiggled her brows and grinned. “Soooo… how was that?” You groaned, already regretting every choice that led you to this moment.

You huffed, crossing your arms as you came to a stop in front of Chai Latte Cookie. "What was that?" Chai Latte Cookie’s grin only widened. "Oh, you know what I mean. That little moment back there." You frowned, feigning ignorance. "I have no idea what you’re talking about." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, who had just strolled up beside her, scoffed. "Please. What is going on now…Chai you have to stop overanalyzing everything." Chai Latte Cookie cut in, tapping her chin in mock contemplation. "let’s see…they looked awfully flustered when the Sage of Truth complimented them." You stiffened. "I was just surprised! He doesn’t exactly go around handing out praise like candy!" "Uh-huh," she said, clearly unconvinced. "And what about that tiny, little moment where you got all nervous and started fumbling with your bag?" Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. You pressed your fingers to your temple, inhaling sharply. "I was just trying to be polite. It was a normal conversation, nothing more." Chai Latte Cookie gasped dramatically. "Oh, so you’re saying that anyone can make the Sage of Truth chuckle like that?"

Your stomach twisted at the reminder. He had laughed, hadn’t he? A quiet, fleeting chuckle but still. You swallowed. "You’re reading too much into this!" Chai Latte Cookie hummed, unconvinced. "Mmm. If you say so." You felt your face grow warm…but only because she always had something outlandish to say."I do say so."

A/N as promised another part...

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[0zozone]

WTF ???? AFTER 60 PULLS IM DO LUCKY!? TODAY I ALSO GOT SHADOW MILK AND PURE VANILLA AWAKENED

[0zozone]

GUYS I FINALLY GOT HIM LET'S GOOOO

[0zozone]

Coffee Deal

Pairing with Carlos Madrigal x reader who loves caffine that much

Read more of my Carlos Madrigal fictions in this masterlist.

The cold and misty atmosphere surrounded  Encanto that was formed by the rain of Pepa Madrigal, she had to let out her emotions and as well as helping the farmers. You and Carlos were in the forest when the downpour happened, you were both soaked and cold running down the hill and to their casita. Dolores greeted you both with towels on her hand.

You dried yourself up before going to Carlos' room, he just finished changing and so did you. You were playing cards and board games for a while before you both got chills from the weather.

"Are you sure your windows are closed?" You asked hugging your cool skin.

"Yeah, I'm sure" Carlosd stated as he threw his blanket to you.

"Gracias" you cuddled yourself in to the blanket, it was nice and soft but the chilly feeling were still there.

"Are you seriously still cold?" Carlos asked, noticing your chilled condition.

"Says the one who's gritting his teeth and hugging himself in to his ruana" you spoke back, Carlos looked at himself not realizing he was also cold since he was too distracted to you being frozen.

"Am I?"

"Are you?" you replied, looking at Carlos' cold state. You watched Carlos as he stood up and dusted himself, walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" you asked, watching him go without a word.

"I'll get us something to drink" he stated and closed the door.

After a while of waiting in his bed, the door finally opened by Carlos who was holding out a tray with a hot drinks and some arepa, Julieta must've added them. Carlos placed the tray in his side table and handed you a warm cup.

"Here"

"This coffee tastes weird" you commented after drinking the supposedly coffee you thought you were drinking.

"That's probably because it's not coffee" Carlos corrected, making himself comfortable on the bed beside you.

"What is this then?" you asked him with your features being scrunched.

"It's chocolate you caffeine addict" Carlos cackled, taking a bite of the arepa.

"Hey! I'll kill you" you randomly threatened him, you were both used that you would always have coffee as your drink whenever you're drinking together.

Carlos hummed and thought for a second before responding "Heh, well how 'bout.....no" Carlos annoyingly smiled your way.

"I want my coffeeee" you complained laying your back on the bed.

"Corazon, No" Carlos frowned-scowled at you.

"¿Que? Is that how much you hate me now?" you to cried out, covering your face with both of your palm.

"Sí, there hasn't been a day where you didn't drink coffee! You're basically half coffee by now! I wonder how you stay alive with that" He expressed out, cocking an eyebrow at your figure.

"Julieta helps" you mumbled under your hands covering face.

"Dios mio Y/n" Carlos threw a pillow at you befor he face palmed himself.

"You're just jealous that I love coffee more than you"

True but-, He sighs "Yes I am, now stop drinking too much coffee, what's wrong with the chocolate drink anyway?" He asked looking back at the normal hot chocolate drink on the tray.

You groaned, "It doesn't give any pain"

"Well I'll provide the pain when you drink that chocolate drink, I didn't waste my time making that for you not to drink" Carlos responded your statement and pulled you to sit up.

"You're not gonna stop stopping me are you?" You frowned at him, "Most definitely, yeah" Carlos agreed, taking another bite from the arepa he abandoned after hitting you.

"Make me a deal then" you crossed your arms and stared at him.

"I'll marry you if you stop drinking" Carlos earnestly said, forging his deal.

"Why are you saying it like I drink liquor, you're lucky I'm drinking caffeine and not liquor" you rolled eyes looking away from him with a pout.

Carlos touch reached your chin, making it turn to face him, "So is that a deal?" He asked.

"Wait you're serious with that?" You asked him, unconvinced with his seriousness.

Carlos gave you a deadpanned look that he has ever since this conversation happened, you clearly don't take me seriously, do you?

"...oh god, you really can't be making me pick between you and my beloved" you said in disbelief with slightly agape lips and with your dramatic hand against your chest.

He cringed when you really called your coffee your beloved and not him, he sighs in defeat, "Atleast lessen your caffine in take, corazon, please" he pleaded holding your free hand.

He was right, you really were over drinking yourself, the palpitations you had were worsening everytime you drink, Dolores had complained to you a couple of times about your caffine intake, she said it was like horse chase inside you.

You sighed in acceptance, "Fine"

"Promise?" Carlos asked with a small smile appearing at the corner of his lips, sticking his pinky out for you.

You looked down at his raised pinky and playfully scoffed "What are you? Five?".

He shook his head with his 'I'm serious' look, he looks so done at you being hard headed. Your eyes flickered between his eyes and pinky, he really was holding it up, waiting for you to lock it.

You reached out your pinky to him and finally locked it, "A promise that I can't keep" you mischievously grinned as Carlos playfully pushed you to the side.

"Ay dios mio fine!" You reassured your answer after being thrown off.

He smirked in victory and took his cup, "Here, you can start not drinking tommorow" he handed you the cup as your face lit up, Carlos never really understood why you love coffee that much.

"Ah! Thank you cariño! Here you can have this chocolate" you passed him the cup that you drank in first.

"Yeah this was actually really mine" Carlos shared before sipping on to the cup.

"Aw, mi pequeño Carlos and his beloved chocolate" you teased him like a kid.

"Ay cállate, cariño" Carlos shrugged you away before drinking the hot chocolate he made once again.

You suddenly choked after drinking the coffee that Carlos made, you exclaimed, "WHY IS THIS SO STRONG?!"

Carlos also choked and spilled on his drink, from cracking up from your reaction to his purposely strong taste coffee, "I love you too, corazon"

Insipired and written by someone who always drink caffeine everyday and is miraculously still alive😀 Please don't drown yourself with caffine! Do drink water too to cleanse your body atleast! Do correct me for any mistakes and do tell me what you think of this! Thanks for reading! And have a beautiful week! /j

[0zozone]

Hey 💌 I’m Saja — a mother trying to hold onto hope through days that feel impossibly heavy.

I know you probably see a lot online, but if you could take just a moment… I’d be so grateful.

💫 A reblog of my pinned post could help our story reach someone who cares.

🌿 And if you’re in a place to give, even a small donation could bring comfort to my daughter and help us feel safe again.

@sajagz, thank you for listening.

Even gentle support creates strength.

From one heart to another — thank you 🤍

🙏🏻

[0zozone]

Hi there,

I’m reaching out with a quiet hope in my heart. These days are heavy, and my family is living through a reality filled with uncertainty—but I’m still here, doing my best to hold on and keep going.

If you have a moment, please check out my pinned post.

A simple share could help it reach someone who might be able to make a difference.

If you’re able to give, even the smallest kindness can bring light into the darkest places.

Your time, your voice, your compassion — it all matters more than you know.

With deep gratitude,

@nadinfamily

Go see if you can guys

[0zozone]

For real 😞😞🙏🏻

[0zozone]

I'm sorry if this must be the randomness idea, and I am guilty to ask this. But maybe if you have the time and interested on doing this, what if Y/n and Smilk dancing together or maybe even doing tricking others together. Thank you for reading this!!!

-🐰 anon

And heeere you goooo !

I'm thinking of making drawings of lower quality so I could make more and faster !

Anyways I Hope you like it !!

(Don't hesitate to tell me if somethings wrong)

[0zozone]

Haha.. nice...

[0zozone]

Can we get shadow milk with a very very sleepy s/o? 🫶

As you wish !

I did the best I could with the little time I had! I hope you like it!

So many of you sent me requests im SO HAPPY !!!!!!

I’ll try my best to do as much as I can and fast !

and also tell me how you want yn to look like, I had no idea if I have to give them hair or eyes like people do them usually

[0zozone]

smooch 💙

[0zozone]

Just letting you know in your recent post you accidentally also tagged the wrong cookie in the post (Milk instead of Shadow Milk)

Actually i didn't remember there was a milk cookie ! I put the tag milk because it's in his name im sorry 🥲🥲

[0zozone]

Hi !!! I NEED TO DRAW SHADOW MILK COOKIE X Y/N, SO, if you have any requests, let me know and I will certainly draw them !!! No nsfw 🚫,

I can do fluff, funny little comics, even drawing just SMK ! Give me your ideas !!! (And maybe short fanfics IDK !!)

And this is how i draw him just to let you know !

[0zozone]

my goodness! can i just say that your art is just absolutely a delight upon the eyes! so adorable, so perfect!

i haven’t really requested before but how about yn asking shadow milk to have them on top of him while he flies around? maybe yn is sleeping on him like a lazy cat and he pretends to drop them to make them scared and cling harder to him hehehe🫶

NEVER fall asleep on him he's an awful pillow