Chapter Text
“Ugh, I think I need to get Pure Vanilla a sweater.” Shadow Milk’s complaint is exasperatingly loud, reverberating through the previously silent space like a stone across a still lake. Typical. If there was any universal constant that could be depended on, it was that if a moment of serenity existed somewhere, Shadow Milk would find it and change that. And of course it didn’t always entail a grand and boastful disruption—sometimes it was much more subtle or insidious—but it was inevitable. There was nowhere on Earthbread, or any of the hidden realms between, that anyone could run or hide that he would not follow them to if it meant an opportunity to poke around in someone else’s business.
“What makes you say this?” In this particular case, “anyone” included the primeval essence of a fundamental magic that lived between worlds on its time off. The amorphous figure turns just in time to see the portal disappear as Shadow Milk steps through into its little pocket of space. Now it’s just the two of them in the vaguest impression of a living room with furniture that technically only exists in both of their minds.
“Oh, Truth! Just the soul I was looking for,” Shadow Milk drawls in faux surprise, as if it would ever be anyone else here. Kicking up his feet, he makes himself comfortable in the recliner he imagines most relaxing. “So glad you could make it, and thank you for asking.”
“I suppose there is nowhere else you would find me other than my home, but please continue. I’m very curious.” What was previously an unstructured being of pure energy now reconstitutes itself into a suspiciously Sage of Truth shaped apparition reading on a couch.
Shadow Milk pauses and scowls.
Ah yes, that’s why... he was beginning to remember the particulars of why he typically avoided this dimension; the Truth instinctively takes the form of every being’s most truthful self, even if they aren’t that person yet, even if they aren’t that person anymore.
Shadow Milk can no longer remember who Truth was to him prior to his fall, but he remembers the sense of peace it brought him to look upon that form. Yet he had gone years avoiding it after he became the Beast of Deceit. For as long as he could remember from that time, Truth took on the distinct features of the Fount of Knowledge. And thus, every conversation became a bitter reminder—there is a ghost with a face that is no longer his, living a life that no longer belongs to him, controlling a body that is no longer his. Shadow Milk had been irrevocably changed and he was loath to accept it.
Yet after his defeat at the hands of his dearest friend Pure Vanilla, the Truth then took a new appearance. At first he didn’t even recognize it. Sage of Truth it called itself. All of it was distinctly him, and somehow it still was not him , stuck somewhere between his incessant past and the never future—this was someone Shadow Milk had never been and now could never be. Well at least he didn’t have to look at that other guy anymore.
“Well?” Truth tilts its head curiously, “The sweater?”
“Right!” Shadow Milk rubs his temples in aggravation, once again fully distracted by the original problem at hand. “No matter the time of day, no matter what we’re doing, every time we’re near each other, he never fails to mention how cold he is!”
“I see...” The Truth considers his words for a moment and then smiles politely. “And are there any actions or behaviors that accompany this statement.”
“Yes! ” Shadow Milk leans forward in the chair at an alarming velocity, eyes wide, “He goes out of his way to stick his cold little hands under my shirt or in the waistband of my pants! I’d hold them if he asked me to! When we lay together at night his legs are wrapped around mine and he moves closer and closer. To “warm up?” What is that about?!”
Shadow Milk spends approximately 2.5 business seconds in the chair before he’s jumped up and begun floating back and forth, off on a complete tirade, gesticulating wildly, “Ugh, he’s always ducking into my cloak while I’m wearing it or pressing up against my side if we’re outside. And when the weather is particularly bad he’ll hold my hand in his sweater pocket! As if I’m some sort of space heater?”
“Right. And you find this behavior annoying?”
“Yes!”
A feeling akin to realization sparks in Truths brain. It disapparates the book it had been holding and crosses its legs, regarding the other with a criminal degree of amusement, suddenly very fascinated. “And you want him to stop?”
Shadow Milk goes completely still and slowly lowers himself to the floor. It’s silent for a few second before he turns and narrows his eyes, “...I mean it’s not that annoying. Of course I’m capable of warming him when the situation calls for it! I’m... perfectly suited to the task. Okay you know what, why are you so judgy anyways?! You aren’t even a person!”
Shadow Milk’s voice gets higher and higher, his ears turning a bright shade of blue. The Truth is silent, watching with fascination at how indignant the other is becoming. The two stare at each other for a moment longer before Truth shrugs, “I didn’t say anything.”
“Whatever,” he looks away and scowls, crossing his arms defensively. “I just feel like at that point, I’m simply confused as to why he didn’t bring a jacket or grab a blanket if he knows he’s going to get cold.”
“Oh! Hm, I see.” Truth coughs and covers its face. It was convinced Shadow Milk had stopped just short of discovering something quite extraordinary only to immediately turn when he sensed danger. Deep down he must know, surely. In fact, it is only because Shadow Milk does know the answer he searches for that Truth is able to so accurately pinpoint what it was he was avoiding.
“Does he not like his clothes?” Shadow Milk muses absently, “Are they not warm enough? Maybe I need to get him a new sweater.”
The Truth cannot help itself; it doubles over in peals of laughter. At this point he surely must be pretending to be so dense. Truth could see clear as day that his heart was burning with conflict and longing (the second strongest yearning it had ever witnessed in its many millennia of existing) there’s absolutely no way he doesn’t understand!
“Wh – you’re laughing? ” Shadow Milk asks incredulously, “Is this funny to you!”
“Yes, actually!” Truth wipes at the tears in its eyes and attempts to catch its breath, “This may be the funniest thing I’ve ever heard! And that’s saying quite a lot.”
“And what, exactly, do you find so amusing about this?!”
Truth looks at him in delighted disbelief. “You’re one of the brightest minds on Earthbread—”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“—but for some reason you’re the single most oblivious person I have ever met.”
Shadow Milk points at Truth accusingly, speechless for a moment before managing, “Excuse me?! I am extremely observant! Alert! Watchful! Hypervigilant , some might say!”
Truth sighs wistfully, “And yet...”
“Fine. Go ahead, then!” Shadow Milk says pointedly, seating himself in the recliner once more, gesturing for Truth to explain. “Tell me what it is that I of all people could have possibly missed while your oh-so-advanced mind hasn’t?”
Truth is quiet for a second, just looking at Shadow Milk with a sickening sense of pity. This feels silly. Childish, even. Aside from Truth’s appearance, there was a less acceptable reason he couldn’t stand speaking with it; it knew him better than he knew himself. Truth was, and always has been, its own sentient creature with its own autonomy and ability to make decisions on its own. It was an ageless essence that existed far before him and will exist once his light goes out.
Yet it was not omniscient. Its knowledge is not endless. Its mind is limited. And still? It knew him. Everything in his subconscious. And whenever they spoke, it made him feel like a child all over again, getting in trouble for breaking a rule he had yet to know existed. It makes him want to run, but his pride roots him to the spot.
“Does Pure Vanilla ever feel cold to you?”
Shadow Milk’s mind grinds to a halt, “... What?”
“Many know from experience that Pure Vanilla’s fingers are freezing. You aren’t the only one he’s tortured with those icicles of his.” Truth chooses to ignore the scowl Shadow Milk gives him, instead moving to stand. “But does the rest of him ever feel the same? His legs? His arms? Do you ever see him shiver, or hear his teeth chatter, or see his skin break out in goosebumps?”
“No, actually,” he says quietly, casting his gaze aside, “In fact he runs rather warm. It’s hard to be close to him sometimes, especially in the summer.”
Truth shakes its head. Once again, he surely could not be this dense. What was the purpose of this conversation in the first place? Was he looking for some sort of rationale or excuse? Someone to talk him down? Someone to cry to? Because Truth was never going to be that for him. Not when it came to Pure Vanilla.
“Yet he goes out of his way to hold your hand.” The Truth’s tone is suddenly very serious, an edge of danger laced in its words. “To press himself as close as he could possibly get. To sleep in your bed, tangled in your limbs. Deliberately gets in your space and sticks his fingers in your shirt so he may feel your skin.” It cages him against the chair so there was nowhere he could hide.
“I don’t like this conversation,” Shadow Milk refuses to look at Truth, sounding out of breath and anxious. “It makes my stomach feel weird.”
“Let me guess,” it tsks, “your heart feels strange as well?”
“Yes...” he clutches at his chest.
Truth raises an eyebrow, eyes trailing downward, “And perhaps you feel strange... in other places?”
“Hey! ” Shadow Milk pushes Truth away from him, angry and annoyed. Truthfully he was feeling quite exposed, moreso than normal in these uncomfortable territories they tend to stray into.
“I’m going to tell you a secret. An open secret.” Truth steps back but looks at him with a kind but stern inclination. “Perhaps the worst kept secret in the entirety of the Vanilla Kingdom, and one that you have yet to be clued into.”
“Impossible,” Shadow Milk sneers, “If there’s a secret, I already know it. I know everything that is said in the shadows.” Cocky. Headstrong. This attitude fit Shadow Milk quite a bit more than the scared fragile crumbles of dough he would normally become after even a half-decent conversation with Truth. Yes, he really did seem far more comfortable now that they stepped back into the familiar territory of lies and truths.
Oh no that simply won’t do.
If Shadow Milk assumed this realm is where he would find solace in playing make believe, Truth would simply have to change that. Now that he felt somewhat safe, it figured this was as good a time as any to use that false sense of security to take him by the hand and lure him sweetly into a brutal reality check.
Truth leans down beside him, to make sure Shadow Milk could never pretend he didn’t hear this loud and clear. “Our most beloved leader and dearest friend, Pure Vanilla, is desperately and hopelessly in love with you. He desires nothing more than to be as close as you will allow. Live by your side for the rest of your natural lives, forging a lifetime of mutual adoration and complete domestic bliss. And you are simply refusing to see the signs, or give even a second of consideration to the words that he himself whispers into the shadows every night before he falls asleep.”
Every word turns his blood one degree colder. Every accusation wounds his ego to the core. Every consonant a different twist of the knife stuck deep in his heart. Truth regards him with the sort of frigid callousness only Shadow Milk himself is capable of delivering. It’s a perfect reproduction of his own uncaring, expressionless face. And it’s killing him.
No. Nonono... he’s wrong. He’s wrong... right? Panic. Genuine panic. Panic like he hasn’t felt in years; not since he lost everything in the Spire. Shadow Milk can’t move, he can’t speak, he can hardly even form thoughts. A cold sweat breaks out across his entire body. There’s this rushing in his ears that’s turning his brain to mush. The space around him is supposedly wide open with possibilities, and still the walls are completely caving in around him.
After what feels like an eternity he manages to finally stammer out, “Th-that’s not—”
Truth’s expression softens, returning to the kind generosity it typically displays. It reaches out and gently holds his face, waiting for him to meet its gaze before smiling saying, “You are many things, Shadow Milk. A denier of reality is not one of them.”
+ _ +
Shadow Milk drifts through the halls of the Vanilla Castle. Aimless. Dazed. The castle staff and various pieces of decor are nothing but a blur, each face indistinguishable from the last. They all wear the same stupid expression: Concern . Their incessant attempts to assuage him and their words of gentle reassurance dissipate into the air the moment a single syllable reaches his ears. Not a single thought leaves his brain. There’s only this dull ringing in his head and a looming sense of unease coursing furiously through his veins. No, not unease. Something far, far worse and entirely too tender.
Yes, his heart certainly does feel strange indeed.
He thinks that perhaps he wanders for hours, or maybe it’s only a few minutes. It doesn’t really matter; he could’ve wandered for days, every path leads him to the same exact place.
The study. Pure Vanilla’s study.
More specifically, standing six inches away from the door—his feet slot perfectly into the faint but undeniably familiar him-shaped grooves that were worn into the ground. Where he had stood hundreds of times before, sometimes for hours on end as he worked up the courage to bother his friend (and more often than not had just turned and walked away).
Now, his legs shake under the weight of nerves and determination. He pauses briefly, his gaze passing over the decorative carvings, gold filigree, and rich acorn oak wood before settling on the old brass knob worn from use. Without another moment of hesitation he places his hand on the knob and steps inside, closing the door behind him and moving towards the figure sitting studiously at the large desk in the middle of the room.
“Hm? Ah, Shadow Milk!” Pure Vanilla’s voice is delightedly surprised. Warm and inviting. Unbothered and unsuspecting. “I was just thinking about you. I trust your day has been – oh my!”
Shadow Milk doesn’t say anything; he pulls the chair from the desk, bends down, hooks his arms under Pure Vanilla’s body, and lifts him from his seat. Silently he walks to the chaise by the window and sets the other on it’s plush surface before moving to lay down, putting his head in Pure Vanilla’s lap. He picks up the other’s hand, places it on his head, and closes his eyes.
“Of course, darling.” Pure Vanilla chuckles softly and strokes a loving hand across his cheek. Perhaps rather embarrassingly, Shadow Milk’s face and ears grow very warm, but Pure Vanilla doesn’t say anything about it for which he is eternally grateful. They’re both quiet for some time, falling into a comfortable and familiar silence with Pure Vanilla’s hands buried in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. The ends of Shadow Milk’s semi-sentient hair slowly swish back and forth in contentment. This is certainly not the first time Shadow Milk has sought the other’s comfort in this way.
For a very long time he’d been cramped and caged in the castle. It felt as if he couldn’t truly express himself without someone flinching at his mere presence. Everyone took quite a while to become familiar with this arrangement, but after some time they treated him as if he were any other fixture in their daily lives.
In the earliest days of actually beginning to feel comfortable on his own, it seemed as if any little thing would overwhelm him, especially when it came to interacting with anyone aside from Pure Vanilla. For the first time in his life he’d been around those who sought his opinion of their own free will—it was an extremely foreign concept that these people were not scared of him but also did not idolize him, and yet they chose to speak to him anyway.
At first, he would flee to wherever Pure Vanilla was and demand some sort of physical coregulation to talk him off the proverbial ledge. Usually this meant playing with his hair or some kind of long and only partially awkward body weight hug. Anything to ground him. It was less frequent nowadays, but selfishly Shadow Milk would sometimes worm his way into the other’s busy schedule when he was feeling lonely or bored. And Pure Vanilla would just... let him. Even when it was clear he was merely seeking entertainment. For a while, he didn’t understand why.
But now?
As Shadow Milk allows himself this moment of reprieve, he can’t help but hear the Truth’s words boom in his hollow head: Our dearest friend, Pure Vanilla, is desperately in love with you. And you are simply refusing to see the signs .
Pure Vanilla soothingly cards his fingers through Shadow Milk’s long hair, perfectly aware of his many closed eyes, brushing by them with the gentlest touch. Somehow nothing gets tangled. It never does. Not when it’s him. Never with him .
Witches, how his heart burned with want.
Shadow Milk reaches to catch the other’s hand and grasps it between his own as if it were a priceless treasure. Shadow Milk squeezes Pure Vanilla’s fingers lightly before he holds it very tenderly, observing it with some palpable degree of reverence. The way he softly turns it this way and that, how he gently traces the old scars and small calluses, and presses his own hand flush to Pure Vanilla’s, examining all their differences. Shadow Milk’s hands are notably bigger with slender long fingers. His hands possessed one of the few beastly features he’d kept from his previous form. Wickedly sharp claws that intimidated most, but for some reason Pure Vanilla always held them close without an ounce of concern.
The difference between their hands leaves him feeling quite melancholy. Shadow Milk thinks his hands are stained, even if not visibly. They are bound to wreak destruction, to draw ire. Pure Vanilla’s hands are those of a man who has earned his title. They move effortlessly and purposefully the moment another is in need. They moved when he himself needed them most. They hold his heart and his attention with the greatest of care. What magic these hands have worked .
“Cold... ” Shadow Milk mutters, pulling the other’s hand close to his chest, placing it over his heart.
“And you are. Quite warm...” Pure Vanilla replies, sounding a bit shaken. So very warm. And his heart is beating so fast? What is happening? There could only be one explanation: Something very distressing happened to Shadow Milk and that’s why he’s behaving this way. Right? What other excuse is there for such tension between them? It felt foreboding and inevitable. On his chest, his souljam hums quietly and he frowns. Whatever this was, he fears it was destined to change the foundation of their friendship. Hesitantly he asks, “Hey, are you feeling okay? You know I’m here for whatever you’d like.”
Shadow Milk’s heart squeezes. No , he tells himself. Don’t lose your nerve now . Yet it was fleeting fast... he needed a moment to find his courage. Instead of any sort of explanation he rolls over and nuzzles into Pure Vanilla’s stomach, practically burying his face in the soft white robe, one hand resting absently on his waist. Pure Vanilla can feel the warmth through his robe. It’s very solid, and very, very real. A burning heat rises within him and butterflies erupt in his chest.
What on Earthbread is wrong with him today? As much as their closeness made his heart soar, he did fear it shattering irreparably when reality finally sets in. No, he must be strong and get to the bottom of this. If it really was a adverse situation that caused this, the sooner Pure Vanilla heard about it the sooner he could fix the problem. And since it seemed Shadow Milk didn’t want to use his words, he figured he would have to pull out a foolproof approach no matter how underhanded it was.
Pure Vanilla resumes his ministrations, casually combing his fingers through the other’s hair once more, and occasionally pausing to brush a few strands away from his face. A tendril of Shadow Milk’s hair sheepishly finds its way around the other’s forearm, instinctively drawn to the source of the sensation. It makes him smile.
After what feels like an appropriate amount of time, he allows his fingers to dance their way down to the base of his neck. Shadow Milk flinches ever so slightly but Pure Vanilla calms him, applying a soothing pressure into the tense nerves there. Eventually Pure Vanilla’s fingers gently trail down across his neck, brushing the spot behind his ear where he knew the other was most responsive, and cups his jaw.
“Mmph! ” The effect is instant. A muffled gasp is pulled from Shadow Milk’s lungs and his body shudders involuntarily. The tips of his ears flush a vibrant blue, and the hand on Pure Vanilla’s waist tightens, nails catching on the fabric of his shirt. The hair around his wrist restricts tightly in mild panic. Shadow Milk’s stunned gaze snaps to meet Pure Vanilla’s, and what he finds looking back at him makes his heart skip a beat.
A light blush is dusted across Pure Vanilla’s features, his expression uncharacteristically unapologetic but flustered. A hint of amusement flashes in his eyes, but is quickly replaced by a sickening sense of adoration. He holds Shadow Milk’s face with the most affectionate touch, thumb brushing over his cheek.
“Hello, dear heart,” Pure Vanilla breathes. “Care to share what’s bothering you?”
Shadow Milk is speechless.
How is it that before today his stupid, dumb, borderline moronic brain had never considered that the pet names were some kind of indication as to how Pure Vanilla felt about him? He’d simply assumed that verbal expressions of feelings such as adoration and praise were his preferred manner of speaking. Yet it never once crossed his mind to consider that he was the only person Pure Vanilla spoke to this way. For someone who prided himself on his ability to recognize patterns and remain logical, Shadow Milk sure was a fucking idiot when it came to this cookie in particular.
How? How has he put up with me for this long ? I’m a joke. I would have wrung my neck by now! I am actively contemplating it at this very moment. The only other thing that could be more blatant would be - wait .
Pure Vanilla watches with mild intrigue as Shadow Milk’s brain rapid-fire processes several thoughts at once before coming to a screeching halt. Apparently a decision has been made. Shadow Milk pushes himself up to bring them face to face, regarding him with some hesitation. Their position should feel awkward; the hand resting on his waist slides to his lower back and Shadow Milk’s free arm supports his weight in the space on the other side of Pure Vanilla, leaving him leaning over the other.
They’re close. So, so close ... All he would need to do is lean forward the slightest bit and they would be flushed chest to chest. Their lips would touch. It also appears that Shadow Milk’s hair, the semi independent entity that it is, has refused to let go of his wrist, keeping his hand pressed to the other’s cheek as if his hand were going to slip away otherwise which is just ridiculous. As if Pure Vanilla would ever give up an excuse to feel Shadow Milk’s skin beneath his fingers.
Their closeness should feel oppressive and uncomfortable and entirely too intimate for the label they currently wear. Then again, they’ve been closer. Much closer, both on accident and on purpose. They’ve hugged, held hands, walked far too close to each other to possibly be comfortable, they’ve shared coats and chairs and intimate pockets of time and space... Hell, they’ve fallen asleep on opposite sides of a bed yet woken up pressed together, their bodies having sought one another in the night!
And somehow none of those instances felt as impactful as this.
Pure Vanilla had been watching, in real time, as the status of their connection shifted from “stationary” to “in transit.” He’d just been waiting for Shadow Milk to see it too. Yet who could say when that shift began? Perhaps it was the first night Pure Vanilla spent singing Shadow Milk to sleep after a particularly bad nightmare some months after he’d arrived at the castle. Maybe it was when Pure Vanilla began to find solace in the physical sensation of Shadow Milk’s hair finding his limbs and fingers even without the other’s say so a year into their arrangement. Maybe it was even before then. Maybe they were never truly stationary to begin with.
Where was this transit taking them? Well he could only hope it reached the destination he’s longed for.
Ah, maybe that’s too much of a hopeful leap to take , he thinks briefly as his doubts begin to get the better of him. Then he feels a familiar tickling sensation along his forearm and a tugging on his fingers. Pure Vanilla looks down to see a tendril of hair wrapping around his other arm, poking at his hand timidly. It was cute. Even when Shadow Milk himself failed to express himself accurately, his hair was always giving him away.
“Sorry,” Shadow Milk murmurs without an ounce of sincerity. Pure Vanilla looks up at him and feels his heart skip a beat. Shadow Milk’s cheeks are flushed and warm to the touch, but he looks anything but embarrassed.
“Th-that’s okay,” he says, suddenly feeling breathless. Once again a tug on his hand, moving and lifting it to the other side of Shadow Milk’s face.
“Sorry,” he says again, leaning into Pure Vanilla’s touch, his eyes trained on the lower half of the other’s face. A wave of realization hits Pure Vanilla like a train; he’d been hesitant at first, under the impression that all of this behavior was due to seeking comfort and reassurance after a distressing or harmful experience. It was starting to become very clear to him that while comfort and reassurance were certainly what Shadow Milk was after, it appeared that he was actually trying his best to give those things to Pure Vanilla and not himself.
It filled him with giddy pride. Pure Vanilla squishes Shadow Milk’s face a little and laughs quietly. “If you want me to hold you, sweetheart, I’ll hold you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah...” Pure Vanilla distractedly licks his lips, feeling very exposed and vulnerable under the other’s unblinking gaze. Shadow Milk tracks the movement very closely. He feels his eye twitch with the effort it takes not to spontaneously combust. No matter what brave face he tried to wear around others, he’s always been somewhat shy with his softer emotions, and Pure Vanilla has always been able to unravel him.
“Good.” Shadow Milk’s head inclines a fraction of an inch, crowding the already minimal space between them, and his hand braces Pure Vanilla’s lower back to pull him just a little closer. They both pause, and after a moment he whispers, “Sorry .”
“You can’t blame anyone else this time,” Pure Vanilla tells him, voice barely there, heart leaping into his throat. They’re right there. Right there. It would take nothing to just—
“I’m not, I’m... apologizing,” he mutters, tilting his head. Their noses touch.
“Apologizing?” Their heads spin, the air between them fleeting fast.
“For making you wait.” Shadow Milk watches Pure Vanilla’s eyelids flutter shut and he closes the gap. The blood rushing in Pure Vanilla’s ears suddenly goes silent. It’s soft. It’s all soft. Their lips are hardly even there, but the electricity that courses between them is indisputable. Pure Vanilla gasps and Shadow Milk takes the opportunity to cautiously deepen the kiss, mindful of his teeth, hand sliding up the other’s body to the back of his head.
“Mmm! ” A pang of want shoots through him. They’ve just gone from zero to one hundred and it’s made it hard for him to even think straight. More than anything he wants to be able to feel more of Shadow Milk but even when he struggles against it, the hair has him rooted to the spot. How horribly unfair. Between pecks he manages to say, “Be kind, my love.”
The other pulls back, and when Pure Vanilla actually opens his eyes he can’t help but immediately burst into laughter. Both Shadow Milk and the many watchful eyes amongst the strands of his hair are, for lack of a better word, pouting.
An overly exaggerated, award-worthy level of distress swims in all twenty of his irises as the grip around his wrists very slowly begin to loosen. Meanwhile Pure Vanilla is essentially crying laughing. Shadow Milk theatrically falls across Pure Vanilla’s lap, burying his face in the throw pillows and cushions, huffing and sighing.
“O-Oh no! Whatever will I do?” Pure Vanilla chokes between giggles. He uses his new found free will to his advantage. After some wiggling and finessing and moving around—with absolutely no help from his distressed damsel—he finally manages to settle on the other. Pure Vanilla dramatically lays himself down over Shadow Milk and rests his chin on his shoulder.
For a few seconds they just lay there, the only sound being their quiet breathing, and then Shadow Milk peaks at him. “Have you come to apologize?”
“I have come to kiss my princess and awaken her from her slumber,” Pure Vanilla grins impishly.
“Oh, your princess am I?” Shadow Milk raises an eyebrow challengingly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“But of course, my little bird,” Pure Vanilla reaches up and pinches his cheek.
“Ack! Stop that, Nil!” Shadow Milk grimaces, fighting to free his hands and stop the onslaught. Eventually he manages to capture Pure Vanilla’s hands with his own and gives him a scolding look that he ignores in favor of attempting to free himself. When Pure Vanilla finally stops struggling against the hold, Shadow Milk interlaces their fingers, face expectant. “Well? Where’s my kiss?”
Pure Vanilla leans forward and pauses before placing a tender kiss on his forehead. Somehow, with how sickeningly sweet it is, this is far more intimate to him than anything else they’ve done so far. Shadow Milk instantly feels his face get hot , suddenly flustered and thrown off guard. Pure Vanilla noses his hair, humming happily, and presses one last kiss to his temple. He moves to extract himself from the couch and once he rearranges his robes so they lay just the way he likes, he offers a hand. Shadow Milk simply stares at the hand with borderline offense plastered on his face. Pure Vanilla just smiles at him affectionately and waits.
Ah yes, there’s the man I know and love. Was it really his beloved if he wasn’t acting like a fragile flower threatening to wilt unless pampered extensively?
After a second Shadow Milk composes himself and sits up, smoothing his hair and his shirt. He then accepts Pure Vanilla’s hand with a polite nod and stands. They silently gaze at one another, Pure Vanilla seemingly sweet and content and Shadow Milk very obviously longing and a bit abashed. Eventually Shadow Milk decides to bend down to steal a lingering kiss from him.
“You’re very sweet to forgive me so easily,” Pure Vanilla says teasingly.
“I find it easy to forgive you,” he replies with one last peck, squeezing his hand before reluctantly letting go and huffing quite dramatically. “I understand that even under extraordinary circumstances your criminally boring and inferior job must be done for some reason unknown to me. So to spare myself a horrid death by lack of attention, I fear I must leave you to your... duty.”
Shadow Milk sniffs indifferently and begins to head towards the door, but feels something tug at the back of his head. Turning confusedly, what he sees makes him blush in embarrassment. Despite his words and attempt to leave, his hair has once again found its way around Pure Vanilla who is covering his mouth with his free hand to spare the other any further humiliation.
“You know I’m going to see you in a mere few hours, darling,” he says sweetly.
“I-I know that! Obviously!” Shadow Milk frowns and crosses his arms. However, the reassurance did appear to help as with those words Pure Vanilla is immediately released. He turns away, flustered, striding quickly as he could to the door, “Whatever. I don’t care. I’ll miss you anyway.”
Click . And with that he was gone, the door closed softly behind him. Pure Vanilla sighs fondly and moves to sit at his desk. What an interesting day. Perfectly ordinary in nature, yet wildly exceptional in every way. In no world did he imagine what would happen when Shadow Milk had visited him, but he supposed it was only a matter of time until something had to give. It still makes his heart race to think about regardless.
He looks at the open letter on his desk, “Ah, right. Work...”
And for the next three and a half hours, not a single thing gets done.
Chapter 2
Summary:
It is far beyond difficult to determine how either upsetting or comforting Shadow Milk may find physical affection at the moment, and what’s worse are all of the urges Pure Vanilla is mentally fist fighting to just kiss him silly.
Pure Vanilla feels his pulse quicken and his face grows warm. He swallows hard, his gaze lingering on the pristine expanse of Shadow Milk’s neck. Truth give me strength...
Notes:
firstly, THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who enjoyed the first chapter! i am so happy to be able to represent their dynamic in a way you approve of and i hope to continue to do so!
i agonized myself for no reason over writing and rewriting this to flow better even though it had mostly been finished when i published the first chapter :’) also, i feel like i blacked out because i genuinely have no idea what kind of crack i was on writing some of this? like okay i hope the spirit of a long dead victorian poet possesses me again sometime soon!
the vibe for this chapter is "pv’s mind: oh, i'm going to hell for sure. here he is, recovering from a minor panic attack and i can't help wishing his hands were unbuttoning my dress!"
anyways! please enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Finally... ” Pure Vanilla’s tired sigh and the sound of the door clicking shut gently pulls Shadow Milk into the realm of consciousness. There’s an odd sense of weariness throughout his body which he finds somewhat interesting but mostly annoying. His initial assumption once he’d left Pure Vanilla that afternoon was that he would feel so on-edge and restless that he would once again end up wandering the halls of the castle for hours.
Instead, he found that the adrenaline and fear from his conversation with Truth followed by the nigh paralyzing emotions of being so vulnerable with Pure Vanilla had left him completely and totally drained. The only thing he could do was take a portal straight to his bedroom, barely magic himself into some pajamas, and fall straight to sleep.
“Hello, Nil...” he says almost confusedly, attempting to replicate some level of coherence despite the grogginess.
“Hello,” Pure Vanilla mumbles, setting his staff by the dresser and leaning against it sluggishly. It takes Shadow Milk a second to gather any amount of genuine awareness, but when he does he bolts up right to anxiously check the clock.
Prior to Shadow Milk’s arrival at the castle, it wasn’t uncommon for Pure Vanilla to fall asleep at his desk, exhausted from refusing to turn in until all of his work was complete. And since he was a reigning monarch of a country, the work was never done.
Obviously Shadow Milk had decided that just wouldn’t do!
A lack of attention was irritating to him, and Pure Vanilla’s attention was the best kind—it was the only kind he’d cared about for quite some time. If Pure Vanilla had spent even a second longer than promised in his study, Shadow Milk took it upon himself to bother the other relentlessly until he finally joined him for the evening. Yet every once in a while Shadow Milk would lose track of time as well, and Pure Vanilla would take the opportunity to sneak a few more hours of work in.
He was afraid that was the case tonight, but a wave of relief washes over him when he realizes the other did in fact clock off exactly when he said he would. Shadow Milk feels a bit guilty anyway; clearly Pure Vanilla was exhausted from actually doing work that contributes to the kingdom when his own work was far and few between. Well, maybe he could help with that. Though of course he would need to be a little vexing about it first.
“Mmm, you look really tired,” he observes disinterestedly, regarding the other with mild indifference. And oh if looks could kill... the daggers Pure Vanilla shoots are both terrifying and impressively sharp. Shadow Milk tsks and nods sympathetically, “And oh my, you look positively frigid. You must be freezing to death.”
A beat of silence passes between them before all signs of irritation leave Pure Vanilla’s body just as quickly as they had arrived. He laughs dryly and pushes himself off the dresser, “Yes. I fear it’s near lethal. Oh whatever shall I do?”
“Come. I can help you with that,” Shadow Milk opens his arms, hoping that his satisfaction wasn’t as obvious as it felt. Pure Vanilla is slow to make it to the bed where he face plants onto the plush silk duvet. Shadow Milk rolls his eyes, leaning over and dragging the other across the bed like dead weight. He easily pulls Pure Vanilla’s body onto his own, arranging their limbs into a familiar and comfortable position while his hair grabs a blanket and pulls it over them. Shadow Milk sighs, tucking Pure Vanilla’s hair behind his ear, “Nothing is ever easy with you, is it...”
“Yes, I love making it hard,” he replies smugly, snickering at the sound of disapproval the other gives him.
“Seriously, Nil?” Shadow Milk scoffs, a grin finding its way to his face despite his objection to such crude behavior. “You are so embarrassing.”
“I am, and you love it,” Pure Vanilla murmurs, snuggling up a bit further and burying his face in the other’s neck. Butterflies erupt in Shadow Milk’s chest, something mildly foreign blooming in their wake. It feels warm and bright and makes him giddy with a disgusting amount of contentment. It grows stronger with every second that passes, and doesn’t flicker for even a moment when he feels Pure Vanilla’s irritatingly cold fingers slip under his shirt and warm themselves against his skin.
Whatever he wants from Shadow Milk is exactly what he’ll get if it means they stay like this. It is beyond relieving to be able to finally hold one another without pretense or that feeling of what if this makes things weird ...
“Well I certainly don’t hate it,” Shadow Milk admits quietly, hugging him close. Though he could definitely admit there’s a whole new set of fears looming upon the horizon now that an entire world of possibilities have been opened to him. Instead of intimidating himself into an awkward silence he contemplates what to say. Eventually he settles on: “Y’know... I had a talk with him today.”
“Oh?” Pure Vanilla doesn’t sound surprised in the slightest, “Is that why...?”
“Yes, tragically,” he scowls as he recalls the events of the world between and how it lead him to the singlemost instrumental realization of his life. It was unfortunate that despite the hostility he holds for Truth he fears he may have to bring it a Redberry Juice or something. Still, even with the outcome he can’t help but feel on edge for some reason.
The only thing that’s changed about their relationship is the fact that they’ve kissed now; the rest of this intimacy is standard, there’s just no longer the need to be subtle or polite about it. But what of their title? Who are they now, really? Shadow Milk curls himself around Pure Vanilla and noses the top of his head. It’s the same comforting smell as always—the sweet gentle scent of ambered vanilla and warm weather and the softest traces of orchid musk and something so inherent to Pure Vanilla’s skin that it makes his heart ache with longing.
It was actually borderline annoying how he was able to scramble Shadow Milk’s brain so easily. It makes him want to scream and cry and punch the air. Without his permission, his pulse quickens and his ears grow warm and his hands hold Pure Vanilla as close as he possibly can.
Genuinely, fuck this guy , he thinks in irritation. Rather than say something to ruin the moment he decides to just keep venting about his day, “You know, I would be falling back to my old ways again if I told you it was a pleasant conversation. Gods, that bastard is as full of himself as ever. Who does he think he is walking around wearing my face on his face? Talking about, Oh, haven’t you heard? Didn’t you know? Blah, blah, blah! As if I would be here willingly speaking with you if I did? You know, he basically called me stupid—”
“Doubt it.” Pure Vanilla mutters, drumming his fingers against Shadow Milk’s ribs.
“—I said basically , Nil,” he sighs dramatically. Pure Vanilla giggles, the sound vibrating against his neck, and it makes his heart soar. It’s positively awful. It’s absolutely addicting and it makes him sick with want. Shadow Milk takes a deep breath and attempts to keep his head above the wave of fondness that threatens to swallow him whole. “Either way, it was dreadful. I hate when he’s right. I hate that he’s always right.”
“Oh, dear heart,” Pure Vanilla coos softly, looking up at him with a somewhat saddened expression. Now sufficiently warmed, his hand reaches to brush Shadow Milk’s hair back and cup the side of his face, “I’m so very sorry. I never meant for such unrest to find you here.”
“Huh? ” Shadow Milk’s face goes blank, his eyes wide with panic, “What? No. Why?!”
Suddenly, before he can stop it, his heart is gripped by a fear and distress he wasn’t aware still lay within him. For the longest time he held the belief that when it came to Pure Vanilla he was never able to say the right things; an unfortunate side effect of Shadow Milk’s condition was his tendency to relentlessly defend the vulnerability he thought his greatest weakness.
And defend it he did, in the only way he knew how.
Every other word out of his mouth was acrid and derisive. Biting remarks specifically designed to mock and jeer, to ruin any chance of true reconciliation between them. It was ironic, actually. He held the greatest disdain for being treated with care, like a stray animal broken and abused and wary of anything that moved.
Yet that is exactly what he was.
And even so... Pure Vanilla was the hand that stayed him, the hand that did not falter in the face of the dog that bit him—the dog that only knew how to bite—and for his patience he was greatly rewarded. He now had Shadow Milk at his every beck and call. He had the ability to release a blight, the likes of which none currently living have ever seen, upon anyone he chose.
But he would never do that. To him Shadow Milk was not a weapon to serve a greater purpose; he simply was. Which is exactly why Shadow Milk happily remained by his side.
Despite that, it seemed the tendency to stand in his own way the moment a sliver of fragility was detected persisted. He thought it was a demon he’d exorcised once and for all, but it turns out to be a ghost that continues to haunt him. Hell, if Truth’s rude awakening was anything to go by it was never clearer to him that he continued to stay ever vigilant, attempting to catch every thread that threatened to unravel him. And still every attempt was made in vain.
Pure Vanilla need only rake the concept of his existence over Shadow Milk to snag and fray the fabric of his sanity. He wanted to let Pure Vanilla restitch him into something beautiful, into something loved, but there’s a hold up that just won’t let him.
Though it was true he had certainly experienced his fair share of grief solely due to the other cookie’s actions, this was absolutely not one of those situations. It broke him to think that he’d yet again caused a misunderstanding. That maybe it seemed the unpleasantness had something to do with Pure Vanilla himself instead of embracing a truth that would permanently change their relationship again?
He wasn’t good with change. He wasn’t good with opening up. He wasn’t even good!
Gods, did I just make a terrible mistake?
Shadow Milk can’t breathe. The thoughts wind themselves like thorned vines around his throat and constrict tighter and tighter with every passing moment. Is this it? It very way may be. This might be the straw that breaks the camels back. This might make Pure Vanilla fall out of love with h—
“Shadow Milk. Angel... I need you to look at me. Now, please.” Pure Vanilla’s voice, gentle, clear, and strong, pierces the fog clouding his mind and embeds itself deep in his chest like an arrow on fire. That voice—a siren song that calls to him and ensnares him with ease—is tuned to a frequency made specifically for him, he thinks.
Oftentimes it is the only decidedly real thing amidst the cloud of falsehoods and lies he so often finds himself revisiting. He thinks that in a room of the most cacophonous symphony on Earthbread, Pure Vanilla could breathe and he would still hear it above the noise. It is the only bait Shadow Milk will ever take and the only trap he never struggles to free himself from. So he follows that voice like it’s a whistle in the woods guiding a lonely traveler home, and instantly feels himself begin to come down.
When he is finally able to bring his vision into focus, Shadow Milk is met with the calm determination Pure Vanilla so rarely chooses to display. It was frightening when he actually utilized his unique and overwhelming ability to command and direct the attention of anyone he chooses.
So now, even though Shadow Milk is present in the moment, he remains far above the clouds. And Pure Vanilla can see him all the way up there, drifting in the wind... but he has little concern that his beloved may float away. Not as long as he remains the tether that will never let him go.
Though it was luckily a rare occurrence nowadays, it had certainly happened enough times that he immediately recognized the moment Shadow Milk begins to spiral.
In fact, this was a state of mind with which they were both intimately familiar. When faced with even a modicum of distress, Shadow Milk’s first instinct was to pretend that everything was perfectly fine; to live in the delusion that there was no problem he couldn’t wish away. Yet all that pressure would eventually have to go somewhere, and he still struggled to find safety or comfort in allowing himself to release it.
That is, unless someone told him to do so which is why Pure Vanilla worked so hard and devoutly to become a safe place—a place where Shadow Milk could rest when he found himself at sea in a world thinks he doesn’t belong in.
Luckily, he’s gotten very, very good at it.
Pure Vanilla sees that far away look in his eyes and brushes his cheek softly. “Ah. I fear you’ve been treading water for too long again, my love,” he says quietly. “Come back to me. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
It takes a moment, but he starts to see some of the tension physically leave Shadow Milk’s body—his shoulders relax, his hands stop shaking, his jaw unclenches, the hair wrapped bruisingly around his waist to eases up... Eventually Shadow Milk blinks a few times and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“Sorry, Nil. I’m really sorry.” Shadow Milk’s voice cracks. He closes his eyes and leans into the other’s touch, cheeks warming in embarrassment. Of course Pure Vanilla, the saint he is, pays it no mind.
“No, my little bird. You’ve absolutely nothing to apologize for.” Pure Vanilla leans in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, nuzzling his cheek in hopes of soothing him. It is far beyond difficult to determine how either upsetting or comforting Shadow Milk may find physical affection at the moment, and what’s worse are all of the urges Pure Vanilla is mentally fist fighting to just kiss him silly.
So instead he breathes.
In and out.
In and out.
Breathe. Just breathe...
Calm, even, measured. Laying there, cheek to cheek, until he feels Shadow Milk breathe with him. The tendril of hair that had him captive earlier swishes contentedly against his hip, drawing small circles over the curve there. It makes him want to giggle and kick his feet, but in the spirit of not overwhelming the other he tries to ignore it.
Quietly he asks, “Now, are you feeling okay?” There’s a tentative nod against his face. “Okay, I’m glad. Would it be okay if I kissed you?” Another nod, much more vigorous. It makes him smile. He pulls back just enough to guide Shadow Milk’s mouth to his, keeping it chaste and sweet and trying so hard to pretend he doesn’t see the disappointment on the other’s face lest he stray from why they’re here in the first place.
Well at least he was beginning to feel like himself again.
“When I apologized,” Pure Vanilla starts, continuing to run his fingers through Shadow Milk’s hair soothingly, “I only meant that everyone has their own relationship with The Truth, but I know from experience that it is not particularly gentle. Nor has it ever been. In fact, while I do believe Truth is objective and necessary, I have never known it to be kind. That is why I’m sorry. Because I wish for you to be treated with kindness.”
Shadow Milk is silent for a while, just looking at him conflictedly. Then he asks, “Even at your own expense?”
“Yes,” Pure Vanilla replies, patting his cheek lovingly.
“I don’t like that, Nils.” He can’t help but scowl. They were both perfectly aware that had he not sought Truth’s wisdom on the feelings he’d been experiencing, he might have gone years ignoring the signs. Of course this would be mostly to his own detriment, as he himself had yearned for the other with a near unimaginable fervor.
However, the real tragedy in his mind would be how Pure Vanilla would continue to hurt; how Shadow Milk would continue to hurt him when he was the last person who deserved it. Shadow Milk thought that maybe in many ways he’d earned the pain, but he couldn’t imagine subjecting the object of his affections to such a fate.
Pure Vanilla sighs sympathetically, “I know,”
“Hm...” Shadow Milk lets his head fall back staring at the ceiling and mulling it over for a second. His fingers absently trail and dance and smooth along the other’s waist in a rather distracting manner. “Yeah no, that doesn’t work for me. I think we will have to change this.”
Pure Vanilla feels his pulse quicken and his face grows warm. He swallows hard, his gaze lingering on the pristine expanse of Shadow Milk’s neck.
Truth give me strength... Just as he’d gotten past the hair he now had to deal with this! And this was far from the first time (nor will it be the last, he prays) that Shadow Milk does something completely innocuous that affects him on a diabolically primal level. Pure Vanilla just wished it didn’t have to happen during these particularly vulnerable moments, yet they almost always did as Shadow Milk sought comfort after most emotional hiccups.
“I know you’re probably right but... I quite like caring for you so much.” Pure Vanilla hopes beyond hope that he doesn’t sound as on edge as he feels, but he thinks he may very well be going insane. How is it that such a simple kiss, such a simple touch, such a simple expression of acceptance, open such a floodgate of desire so quickly? It’s as if the moment Shadow Milk had left his study he’d been stuck in the same place, and now he’s finds himself hypnotized by these repetitive thoughts running through his mind.
I mean, his neck is just... open. Free, entirely unclaimed real estate. Right there. That wouldn’t be weird. Right? Surely he would enjoy it. Wasn’t he disappointed I didn’t kiss him longer? Pure Vanilla tries to force himself to look anywhere else, but he can’t. Witches I might be going to hell for this, he’s just being so sweet and honest but I can’t help but want to just –
“What if I tell you it is an unkindness to me for you to be so selfless all the time?” Shadow Milk continues to stare at the ceiling as he very thoughtfully expands upon his concern for Pure Vanilla, “What if the kindest thing you can do for me is to put yourself first once in a while?”
And he is either a phenomenal actor or he is shockingly unaware of himself (in fact it is most certainly both) because his hands continue to rest and smooth and prod along his waist and hips, which is bad enough, but the real problem is the tugging at the hem of his robe and the feeling of a tendril curling along his calf.
It was not uncommon for Shadow Milk’s hair to act not only independently of him but in a way that is contrary to what he says. Now that their relationship has apparently progressed—and even before then, if Pure Vanilla was being honest—it was dancing over boundaries he had never thought they’d ever cross, hope as he might. And while it far from upsetting, he’s just always surprised that the other doesn’t realize when it happens.
Then again, if Shadow Milk was so insistent on him taking a moment to be selfish, he would be more than happy to oblige. Pure Vanilla leans up and softly presses his lips against the other’s neck, smiling against his skin when he feels the other tense beneath him. Shadow Milk draws a sharp breath and his hands go still, suddenly aware of himself. The tendril sliding up his leg fidgets bashfully, but does not retreat.
Pure Vanilla hums and noses against the other’s jaw, “The mirror you hold to me is quite reflective today, my love...”
“You should try looking in it, darling,” he manages to grit out. Pure Vanilla just giggles. Shadow Milk feels his eye twitch. For some reason he was feeling deeply conflicted on what he should do here. A teensy weensy itty bitty part of him wanted to pull away, fearing that this was all too much for his somewhat delicate constitution to handle! And yet he knew he didn’t have the strength needed to extract himself from this experience. Hell, he didn’t even want to!
Everything about Pure Vanilla is so scary and exciting and vivid and new, as it always is even after countless moments not dissimilar to this. It’s just that before now he was either too scared to ask for more or too ashamed of wanting it. Obviously it’s something Pure Vanilla wanted too, or he wouldn’t have done it. There wasn’t really any reason for him to be embarrassed by his reaction to purposeful provocation.
Right? Right.
Pure Vanilla can see him overthinking again, and decides Shadow Milk has done enough thinking for the day. He reaches up and grabs the other’s chin, tilting his face until Shadow Milk’s gaze met his, “Hey, be nice to me.”
“I am always nice to you,” Shadow Milk replies simply, leaning down and kissing him softly.
“Riiiight,” Pure Vanilla says sarcastically, but he’s smiling when he happily kisses back. They stay just like that for a moment, eyes closed, kissing sweetly. Pure Vanilla runs his fingers through the hair at the base of Shadow Milk’s neck and scritches there. Shadow Milk’s hands resume their idle exploration and he kisses back a bit more fervently. The previously tentative investigation of his leg is significantly more confident, now prodding at the inside of his knee.
“Mmph!! ” Pure Vanilla feels his heart jump, parting his lips easily. Note to self, absolutely touch his neck again. Surprisingly, it’s only slightly awkward. Shadow Milk has next to no experience, and he himself only has a little, but the awkwardness comes from the fact that Shadow Milk’s mouth is so unique. He wants to map it, to know it inside and out.
He wants to know how Shadow Milk prefers Pure Vanilla to kiss him, how to handle the volume of his tongue—his tongue which Pure Vanilla desperately tries day in and day out not to think about—and how to work around his teeth. Those teeth which are so prominent, canines always visible as they curl away from his mouth and incisors that are broad and strong. They’re not sharp or dangerous, but they’re just so uniquely him. One of many features Pure Vanilla finds so overwhelmingly attractive for reasons beyond his comprehension.
They spend a moment figuring it out slowly, but Pure Vanilla senses more than just overthinking in the other’s uncertain actions. He breaks the kiss with an affectionate peck, “Why do you hesitate, my love?”
Shadow Milk rolls his eyes, a response ready on his tongue before he stops, a confused look passing over him, “I... I don’t know.”
“Are you uncomfortable? Overwhelmed?”
“No!” Shadow Milk cringes; the word comes far too quickly, even to his own ears. Pure Vanilla levels him with an unimpressed stare. “Well, I am capable of being uncomfortable, Nils. Obviously.” The way he says it is not unlike Strawberry Crepe Cookie being told they aren’t allowed to perform experiments on the infantry wafflebots. That is to say, it’s childish and whiny, which oddly enough gives Pure Vanilla peace of mind; at least he feels free to act in a way that makes it clear he is without fear of chastising or repercussion. “But I just... don’t feel upset about it. Not when it’s you.”
Pure Vanilla nods, “I see.”
“I just think that maybe feel this way because I don’t think I deserve to be so. Happy.” Shadow Milk’s cheeks flush a little and he frowns, casting his gaze aside.
“Hmmm...” Pure Vanilla pretends to think about it, sitting back and tapping his chin. Shadow Milk feels a small irritation spark in him at the show the other puts on. Ah, right. It was easy to forget sometimes how horrifically sarcastic he could be as it was a talent he rarely exercised. “Let’s say in this fantasy world you live in that I agree. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you don’t deserve such happiness.” Pure Vanilla leans in close, resting his cheek against Shadow Milk’s for a long second before quietly saying, “But I do. I deserve to be happy, and I am happiest when I am with you. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, okay.” Shadow Milk feels so lame but he doesn’t know else what to say, secretly quite pleased by the declaration.
Pure Vanilla nuzzles his cheek affectionately and relaxes into his embrace, pressing himself as close as space physically allows. Shadow Milk feels so terribly soft inside. All he can do is curl himself around Pure Vanilla and try not to allow the aggressive affection he’s feeling squeeze the other too tightly. And it is tight, Pure Vanilla must admit, but he’s not made of pure waffle cone. There is immense strength in his dough; he can take whatever it is that Shadow Milk is able to give him and then some.
They stay like this so long that they both begin to nod off, but Pure Vanilla suddenly remembers earlier in the study when he was refused an opportunity to do something he’s wanted to for quite some time.
“What is it?” Shadow Milk asks, noting the way the other starts to squirm out of his grasp. When Pure Vanilla pushes himself up and sits astride his lap he feels butterflies in his chest and blushes a little. Before he can say anything else he feels hands pressed to his ribs, fingertips gently skimming the thin cotton of his shirt.
“You didn’t let me earlier,” Pure Vanilla says, closing his eyes. His fingers delicately dance across the broad plane of Shadow Milk’s chest (he certainly doesn’t miss the heart fluttering beneath his touch) working their way to his arms. “I see much better with my hands, and I have never gotten the opportunity to look at you the way I want to.”
Shadow Milk had already known that Pure Vanilla had poor eyesight; that he often fatigued himself by tapping into his magic reserves to sharpen his vision throughout the day. What he didn’t know is that Pure Vanilla could use his sense of touch to supplement his sight. And what he was completely clueless on was that apparently Pure Vanilla had been wanting to “look” at him for some time now. It makes Shadow Milk’s heart skip a beat, which he finds is starting to become very common for whenever he even thinks about the other touching him in a way he hasn’t before.
Pure Vanilla takes his sweet time trailing along the curve of his biceps and up over his shoulders. Pure Vanilla allows himself a selfish squeeze of the lean, faint muscle beneath his palms which makes Shadow Milk chuckle.
“Shhh, let me have this,” Pure Vanilla tells him with another squeeze.
“But of course, your majesty,” he jokes, permitting himself a squeeze of his own; he lovingly kneads the soft curves of Pure Vanilla’s hips where his hands are now resting. Pure Vanilla’s cheeks flush but he doesn’t argue. Instead he skates his fingers upward, approaching the top of the other’s sleep shirt. His fingers hesitate for a moment and then travel up over the stitching and onto the skin of his collarbone, dragging and dipping into the hollow there.
“Ngh! ” Shadow Milk has no idea why such a sound fell from hips lips. In his mind he was preparing himself for the usual chill of Pure Vanilla’s fingers—instead he finds himself very preoccupied by the perplexing exhilaration suddenly igniting in his stomach. Head to toe, his body lights up like a Christmas tree, a wave of desire washing over him. It’s mystifying to him that such a simple touch could cause such a reaction. Then again, his usual clothes almost always covered him entirely; his chest and neck were such unexplored parts of his body that he was wholly unaware of how fantastically sensitive it was.
“Ah! S-sorry!” Pure Vanilla is extremely flustered by the response, hands jerking and fingers stuttering. Instantly a deep blush rises to his skin, kissing every feature on his face. Pure Vanilla frowns and shifts uncomfortably in his lap, nearly snatching his hands away entirely, but Shadow Milk quickly reaches to stop him from pulling away.
“I’m okay. I just... didn’t expect it.” It’s true; it wasn't jarring or upsetting in the slightest, but it was a strange feeling. One that he greatly wished for Pure Vanilla to replicate again. In fact, despite the embarrassment he feels, he finds that it would probably be beneficial to clear the air. Shadow Milk clears his throat, “I think I, um. Liked it. More than I should have. So...”
“Oh! Um...” Pure Vanilla shifts again for some reason. Quietly he says, “I understand. I’m – I am glad to hear it.” Shadow Milk is concerned that maybe he did something wrong, but sees a small smile tug at the corner of the other’s mouth he decides to stay quiet.
Shadow Milk hesitates to release his grip on Pure Vanilla, secretly afraid he would pull away anyways, but when he does said hands resume their examination. They teasingly retrace their steps across his bare skin with renewed confidence which makes him groan quietly. It’s a small victory considering how hard he had to stop himself producing a significantly more undignified sound, once again taken aback by the foreign pang of want that shoots through him.
He fidgets a little, trying to wish the feeling away, but all that does is serve to make him very aware of their current position; he’s clueless on what to do about how excited it makes him to know that there’s such a thin barrier between them, or what to do about having a thought of that nature to begin with. Normally he forced a distraction before his mind could get that far.
There’s a nearly imperceptible stall in Pure Vanilla’s fingers as they slide up the sides of Shadow Milk’s neck at an agonizing pace and along his jaw. His hands finally come to a stop, affectionately holding Shadow Milk’s face like it’s the most precious thing in the world. Pure Vanilla smiles to himself, momentarily forgetting how intently he was being watched, and Shadow Milk’s heart aches.
He is the single most beautiful thing Shadow Milk has ever seen, and all he can do about it is lay there and drink in every feature he’s allowed to as the already Pure Vanilla shaped hole in his chest gets bigger. Nervously he says, “So um... do I look different to you now?”
“Yes, you’ve wholly and entirely exceeded my expectations.” It’s said so casually that Shadow Milk almost doesn’t catch it. It takes a second but Pure Vanilla can start to feel the skin beneath his fingers grow warmer.
After a mildly embarrassing amount of time he manages to find his voice, “Oh. And have you seen everything you wanted to?”
“Oh sweetheart,” Pure Vanilla coos sweetly. When Shadow Milk thinks on it, it’s a silly question to ask considering how much mischief the other has already been up to. And the way Pure Vanilla now gazes down at him smirking slightly just solidifies that. Deep down he thinks that’s precisely why; holding onto the hope that he’ll give Shadow Milk something he’s too scared to beg for.
Pure Vanilla’s thumb finds his chin, coaxing his lips apart, and he leans in close only to stop just short of connection. They share the finite air between them, leaving them dizzy with want. “There is so much more of you I’d simply love to get a look at.”
Shadow Milk’s heart is hammering in his chest, a strange new type of adrenaline coursing through his veins making his head swim. There’s something building up inside of him and he doesn’t know where to put it. It’s absolutely maddening.
“C-can you just kiss me or something? I’m dying here, Nils,” he begs, finally unable to take it anymore.
“Yes, my love,” Pure Vanilla laughs, looking rather pleased with himself. Shadow Milk sighs in relief, but unexpectedly he feels lips pressed to his cheek which they both know good and damn well is not what Shadow Milk had in mind.
And oh is it nothing short of extremely aggravating; unfortunately he was simply awful at exercising patience when it came to something he wanted. Yet the complaint dies in his throat when he feels another kiss pressed to his temple. One of Pure Vanilla’s hands cradles the back of his head as the other slides down to his chest. A kiss, barely there, brushes Shadow Milk’s jaw and he keens softly, eyes fluttering shut. Pure Vanilla’s voice is sinfully breathless when he says, “Just trust me, okay?”
“I-I – fuck, fuck...” Shadow Milk whimpers, back arching off the bed when he feels a trail of nips and kisses down his neck. His hands absently rub and squeeze at Pure Vanilla’s thighs, pulling at the fabric of his robe and unsure of what to do other than lie there and take it. Well, he knows what he wants to do, he just isn’t sure if he’s allowed to.
“You can touch me, darling,” Pure Vanilla manages to mumble between kisses, squeezing his chest in demonstration. Shadow Milk bites his lip hard, swallowing the moan that threatens to escape. Still he remains frightened by the strength of his desire. Then Pure Vanilla’s breath ghosts across the juncture of Shadow Milk’s neck, teeth grazing the skin there; it’s the only warning he gets before he feels Pure Vanilla’s tongue, hot and wet, glide across the sensitive skin of his collarbone.
Shadow Milk throws his head back and moans outright, low and unrestrained. It’s such an indecent noise that it gives him a moment of pause as the embarrassment begins to well up inside, fearing that his desperation is a deterrent. Yet apparently all it does is serve to encourage his beloved further—Pure Vanilla eagerly pushes himself up onto his knees, head tilting for better leverage to get his lips on every inch of whatever exposed skin Shadow Milk has.
“Witches ...” Shadow Milk groans and his eyes roll. The pressure in him grows, filling his chest and his stomach and even far beyond. He needs a way to get rid of it. His hands grope and search for something to hold onto, anything to ground him and keep him from floating away, but when they instinctively slide to the other’s waist it only untethers him further.
My hands fit so perfectly around him... What else do I have that fits him so well? Oh gods no. Once his haze addled brain produces the thought, it can’t seem to let it go. He feels weak all over and a heat pools in his gut. He whimpers, “Please, Nil.”
Logically, Pure Vanilla knows that Shadow Milk is completely unaware of what he’s doing, too caught up in the pleasure he was providing, which he was absolutely ecstatic about! And still it is driving him fucking crazy. Shadow Milk’s hands keep squeezing him, his thumbs rubbing and pressing into something that normally Pure Vanilla can only hit from the inside, dancing him dangerously closer and closer to the edge. Shadow Milk whines and moans all high and breathy, he fidgets and squirms and keeps rolling his hips like he knows he’s supposed to do something with them, but is missing a piece of the puzzle.
All of it is why Pure Vanilla had to sit up and move the entirety of his lower body away from Shadow Milk’s. Because he is moments from ripping Shadow Milk apart. And quite selfishly, also because he is already getting what he wants; those little tendrils normally so difficult and puckish, have completely gone rogue. Hidden under layers of blanket and clothing, having pushed and hiked his his robe nearly up to his hips, wrapping themselves around his thighs, and playfully skimming the elastic of the already slicked cotton clinging to every curve and bump and fold of his desperately needy sex.
And one particularly intelligent strand attempting to repeatedly wrap itself around that twitching bundle of nerves he would do anything to press against the man below him. But he doesn’t, because this isn’t about him.
“You’re okay, my love,” Pure Vanilla tells him kissing his way to the other side of his neck and grinning when Shadow Milk tilts his head to give better access. His hand finds its way under the hem of Shadow Milk’s shirt, bracing his fingers against the soft lean plane of his stomach. Pure Vanilla nips and sucks and kisses at his collarbone and slowly his hand creeps lower, obvious in it’s destination.
“O-oh...” The lightbulb goes off.
How did he not realize sooner? In all of Shadow Milk’s confusion over the unyielding pressure and overwhelming thirst he’s never experienced before, it finally dawns on him that he’s about to have an orgasm.
To his credit, his anatomy is vastly different now in comparison to how he was baked so there was absolutely no indication of what he was to expect from his body if he ever became intimate with someone after he fell. Besides, he’d only ever tried once before, and he found the whole deal to be an annoying waste of time. Shadow Milk had always assumed there would be much more southward attention necessary to get to this point. Apparently all he needed was Pure Vanilla’s lips on his neck and the thought that such a man would want to be with him in that way.
Wait a minute. This actually isn’t the first time he’s felt this way, it was just the first time he’s felt it this strongly. Ah. Okay. It then also dawns on him that he’d been physically responding to Pure Vanilla’s general existence since the day they met. And it’s clear now that it was never because of the souljam.
Oh he is so beyond fucked.
Well, that’s just fine with him.
Shadow Milk shivers violently as he is abruptly dragged back to reality by a tingly sort of feeling beginning to bloom and ache within him. It comes courtesy of the soft lips and warm hands so affectionately and confidently dancing across his skin. Gods his mouth. Ethereal and devilish and transcendent and lascivious, it licks and nips and sucks and kisses its way back up the other side of his neck leaving a trail of small marks and bruises in their wake. And those thin, dexterous fingers hooking firmly in the waistband of his underwear and tugging teasingly. They skirt back and forth, temptingly revealing more and more of the soft happy trail that led to a certainly happy place if the current situation was anything to go by.
“Sh-shit!” Shadow Milk whines, his breath picking up. It’s right there! This impossible itch he can’t quite scratch it builds and grows with every second, behind his ribcage, in his stomach, between his legs, seeking friction by any means. Try as he might to fidget and squirm he cannot reach it, but every touch he received seemed to bring him closer and closer.
But then they find themselves there once more, right back where this all began. Pure Vanilla leans in until their lips are barely touching. They’re so wickedly close that Shadow Milk thinks Pure Vanilla is breathing life into him. So close that he thinks just a single word would undo him. When Shadow Milk stares up at him, tears of pleasure in his eyes, he thinks he’s seeing heaven.
Oh so close indeed.
Without hesitation Pure Vanilla’s hand finds its way between fabrics, fingers splayed and palm heavy with intent. It finds its target with ease and curls possessively around it, encouraging Shadow Milk to use it, use him, however he needed in this moment. Below him comes a choked and strangled noise. Decidedly a noise of restraint. Not what was intended at all.
“You can let go,” Pure Vanilla breathes, voice low. Fingers squeeze and stroke slow and determined. “It’s okay. Let go. I’m right here. I’ve got you, starlight.”
It is the first time he has called him that, and for some reason it is also just enough to tip the scales.
“I-I, you – gods, Nil! ” Shadow Milk gasps, voice airy and barely audible, and shudders, hips stuttering into the friction he was finally able to attain. After all that burning and thirsting and completely falling apart, it feels like a cool mist washes over him, head to toe; it’s a suffocating, all consuming, deliriously wonderful kind of satisfaction that he never knew existed. The kind of thing people get addicted to if they aren’t careful.
Pure Vanilla tips his head and their lips connect, ardent and eager, and Shadow Milk devours him so ravenously that Pure Vanilla almost finds himself thrown into the waters as well—he clings to the edge with the grip of a man who is actually mildly embarrassed by just how aroused he became at making the love of his life feel so good.
Besides, he’d employed his fantastically vivid imagination and the lovely length of time between that afternoon and now to get plenty of what he needed. Surely he could not possibly go again... right?
As they both break for air, their lungs screaming for moment of reprieve, Pure Vanilla’s eyes are drawn downward. Down to his handiwork littered across Shadow Milk’s neck, to the heaving of his chest and the way his hips twitch in overstimulation, to his hands grasping Pure Vanilla’s waist in desperation, and he swallows hard as he feels his face get very, very hot.
Ah well. Maybe he would be able to find some alone time later that evening.
“Oh you did so well, my love. So well. Absolutely beautiful, darling. I’m so proud of you.” Shadow Milk is shaking a little when he finally starts to come down. Pure Vanilla brushes his hair back and presses a flurry of kisses to his face, whispering sweet nothings to him to help him find his way. Hesitantly he asks, “Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?”
When Shadow Milk seems a little more grounded, and the haze of arousal has just begun to clear from Pure Vanilla’s mind, he pulls back a bit and searches the other’s face for signs of distress. He was suddenly self conscious of the fact that all of this had could been too much right off the bat.
However, what he finds is an exceptionally giddy and contented expression that he will definitely tuck away as heavy ammunition for the next time Shadow Milk annoys him, but he’s happy to see that things appear far more than alright. There’s also a steady low humming sound that he initially thinks may be his souljam. And then he suddenly becomes extremely aware of the steady vibrations under his fingertips and realizes that the sound is actually coming from the other.
Shadow Milk is already half asleep, nuzzling into his hand and softly murmuring, “Yea, m’good babe.”
Pure Vanilla bites his tongue so hard he thinks he draws blood; he is agonizing over the decision to either use this as some absolutely lethal doubly iron clad reminder to poke fun at the other or just keeping this to himself out of fear he’d never hear it again. For now he just steadies his voice and says, “I’m glad. Do you need anything from me? If not, I just need to wash up. Is that okay?”
Shadow Milk just nods his head, still purring and softly petting Pure Vanilla’s waist. For once, there is not a single tendril restricting him—instead all eyes have fully closed, disappearing into the impossibly dark void of his beloved’s hair, and every strand loose and limp against the bed. Pure Vanilla smiles in relief. It seems his goal of actually getting the other to relax for once was successful.
As a side note, he was definitely excited at the prospect of being able to further pursue this line of relaxation techniques in the future. It wasn’t as if anything about their relationship had actually changed in any way other than perhaps in title, at least not that he knows of. Whatever else there was to discuss it could be covered in the morning.
“Okay, my love,” Pure Vanilla kisses Shadow Milk’s forehead, “I’ll be right back.” After carefully removing himself from the bed he scurries off to the bathroom. When he closes the door, he slumps against it with a heavy sigh. It feels as if all the weariness of the day has finally crashed down on him at once. As wonderful as the events of the day had been, it didn’t negate that he’d woken up at dawn and worked for eight hours straight before being happily interrupted.
As Pure Vanilla mindlessly goes about his routine, he recounts his day. It had started as page after page of dense strategic policy and dignitary procedures that had worn down his magic reserves quite quickly. His mind, as it always does when he’s begun to grow tired, had wandered to something he had much preferred to be focused on instead.
At first it was completely innocent; he’d just wanted Shadow Milk to come annoy him a little so he could pretend it exasperated and distracted him enough to draw him away from work for the day. Maybe they’d just take a walk in the garden, maybe there’d be a request for a game, or maybe they would end up portal hopping to the remote field of rare flowers he’d mentioned wanting to find someday and Shadow Milk had located for him some time ago.
Maybe he’d even beg Pure Vanilla to let him play that stupid dress up game that he’d taken to lately once he’d decided that the “I’m cold” close proximity excuse was growing old. Oh, it was so innocent!
Pure Vanilla had felt his heart skip a beat as he remembered the first time Shadow Milk had asked him about it.
“Take off your clothes,” he’d announced loudly, barging into the study.
Pure Vanilla froze, looking up from the paper in his hand with an expression complete bewilderment crossing his face, “...excuse me?”
Shadow Milk wasn’t even looking at him, too busy flicking his hand this way and that as he booted the furniture he deemed unnecessary to his current needs. Once it’s arranged to his liking he floats over to Pure Vanilla’s desk, “I’ve been thinking—”
“That explains it,” he scoffs in annoyance, going back to reading. Shadow Milk pauses and raises an eyebrow at him, thoroughly unimpressed with the little show of irritation. This was one of the things they both genuinely argued about at times; whenever Pure Vanilla was actually upset with the other’s antics for reasons Shadow Milk just couldn’t understand and thought the back-talk was “unbecoming of a benevolent leader” or some nonsense like that. It then led Pure Vanilla to ignore him in earnest until eventually the other came groveling and unable to cope with the lack of attention.
“Let me just pretend I didn’t hear that,” he closes his eyes and puts his hands up. After a second he opens them and continues, “I’ve been thinking that since you’re always so cold maybe you just aren’t dressing yourself well enough.”
“Oh?”
“I can do far better.” With a twist of his hand he’s reached into the space between them and produces with a flourish some items from Pure Vanilla’s closet, presenting them stubbornly, “So take off your clothes and put this on.”
Pure Vanilla sets the paper down and glances between the clothes and Shadow Milk’s humorless expression. Oh, so he was serious about this... With a sigh he sits back in his chair and pinches his brow, “Are you really this bored you have to invent new games to play?”
“Nil, I am dying of understimulation,” Shadow Milk whines, collapsing dramatically against the desk, whipping out the puppy eyes he only utilized when he was extremely wearied by restlessness.
“Oh my poor baby,” Pure Vanilla hums, reaching out to caress his face tenderly. He pats his cheek and tsks, nodding solemnly, “You will be sorely missed.”
Shadow Milk stares up at him with his stupidly big and annoyingly beautiful eyes before he whispers, “The sooner you give in, the sooner I’ll leave you alone.” Pure Vanilla puffs out his cheeks, lightly pinching Shadow Milk’s, but he doesn’t complain or tell him to stop, just winces. Ah, it was a state of emergency even.
With a sigh of resignation he gets out of his chair, “...Fine.”
And oh boy had that simple “fine” been the worst decision he’d ever made. Not only did Shadow Milk make him try on every other item in his closet (a vast collection) he’d made Pure Vanilla stand in front of the mirror as he floated around, poking and prodding at him, pulling things on and off of him at random. Never in his life had he had to fight so hard to think of something, anything , other than the feeling of Shadow Milk’s thin fingers slipping into his clothes and dragging along his skin, hooking under the edge of his robe and pulling it up to see which hemline fit his silhouette best.
At any moment he could turn Pure Vanilla the wrong way and see a humiliatingly wet patch of fabric clinging to his thighs. Luckily Shadow Milk was always too busy looking at other things to notice the heat rising to his face with every passing moment. Then again, these sessions of this “fun” new game had provided the ever wandering mind of a tired Pure Vanilla with plenty of information to fill many of the gaps in his fantasies.
That afternoon had been no exception.
What started as an innocent moment of boredom made him groan in exasperation as his mind began to dance into some lecherous territory. Rather serendipitously that was the exact moment Shadow Milk had entered his study and carry him to the chaise. And even though their meeting had been rather chaste, all it did was manage to dump a barrel of gasoline onto the barely smouldering fire of his already piqued interest the second Shadow Milk left the room.
Now as he grimaces and slides the uncomfortably wet undergarments off and steps into the shower, he flushes a little thinking of how he’d chosen to fill the time between. Several times. It’s not unlike how he’s spending his shower now, with gasps and moans muffled by his clenched fist. The sound of the water hitting porcelain tiles almost entirely disguises the lewd squelching of his deft fingers rolling and hooking deeper and deeper within. A familiar hardness grows beneath his fingertips, and every press against it springs a new tear of pleasure to his eye.
“Mmm! F-fuck, ” Pure Vanilla doubles over, nearly collapsing against the shower chair he sometimes used when he was too tired to stand. His mind helpfully supplies him with the fresh memories of Shadow Milk moaning and squirming and rocking into Pure Vanilla’s hand when he finally came. He remembers the feeling of that tricksy tendril clinging to his desperation, pinching and rolling it in its grasp.
Witches, he’s so close.
Any semblance of rhythm he’d had leaves him, his hand cramps as he pushes harder and harder into that burning itch he remembers Shadow Milk relieving from the outside somehow. Pure Vanilla’s breath catches and stops, crying out in desperation. It hits him so much harder than he could have ever imagined. For the first time in his life he feels an unsteady stream gush from between his fingers.
An intense buzz resounds up his spine and through his whole head. Surprisingly it doesn’t even stop after some time has passed like it normally does; he feels like a mindless animal, rutting against that slowly softening harness to draw out this feeling for as long as he physically can until it gradually comes to an end.
Eventually it’s all washed away with the rest of the traces of the day’s happenings—obscene or otherwise—swirling the drain and disappearing forever. Pure Vanilla shakes so hard he thinks he might knock the whole chair over. It takes him much longer than he’d like to unsteadily dry himself off, magic away the moisture that unexpectedly got into his hair, and pull on the clean clothes he’ll sleep in.
Pure Vanilla is in a total daze when he stumbles out of the bathroom and turns off the light before shuffling over to where Shadow Milk remains curled up, asleep. It did appear however that he managed to find his way under the covers at some point. Pure Vanilla crawls over him to the other side and gets under the comforter.
On instinct Shadow Milk rolls over so there’s plenty of room for Pure Vanilla to wrap his limbs around him, which he always does before he’s able to fall asleep. They cling to each other tightly. Groggily, Shadow Milk noses the top of his head and murmurs, “Kiss. Kiss.”
Pure Vanilla smiles a little and turns his face so that Shadow Milk’s mouth may find his. It’s so sickeningly sweet; it makes him feel all bubbly and content inside which helps him greatly in coming down a little more after his shower left him in the stratosphere. Then he settles and nestles into Shadow Milk as always.
The room is peacefully quiet. The only sounds are the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and their calm, measured breathing. It isn’t particularly late, just approaching 9:00, but they’re both exhausted. It feels like there’s this whole world of possibilities that have opened to them despite so little changing.
This is how nearly every other night has ever ended for them, though they would normally start the night on opposite sides of the bed before Pure Vanilla would scootch his way over and tentatively cuddle up to Shadow Milk who would pretend he was asleep. It was nice to skip the pretense for once, but Pure Vanilla still felt a tinge of hesitation before he whispers the same thing he’s been saying every single night without fail for over a year now: “...I love you.”
Shadow Milk doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. He pulls Pure Vanilla impossibly closer and holds him possessively like he’s a priceless, irreplaceable treasure he could never let go of. Pure Vanilla, who knows how hard it is for the other to verbally express himself, thinks it’s perhaps the loudest “I love you too” he’s never heard.
Notes:
“hey fish, whats smilk got goin on down there?” well yes! :) he’s a "oh no i thought about kissing my wife for 0.02 seconds and now i have to stay seated for several minutes" kinda guy and that's really all i got.
(also i should mention that his hair is not actually totally made of hair it’s more of a magical amalgamation of... Something(TM). like the tags say, he’s an eldritch horror (affectionate))
i have written quite a few fics before and published only 10% of them (im not even exaggerating i have HUNDREDS of pages of unfinished stories i keep trying to recycle because my OTPs all share the SAME dynamic), but i typically only write EXTREMELY explicit stories, so i cannot stress enough how difficult it was to write this with minimal use of explicit terms? yet somehow i think that made it even more scandalous?
NOTE: i actually started writing a much more explicit scene for this story even before i started writing this chapter but i wanted to try something less direct! if i end up finishing it i will release it as a sequel to this and not as a fourth chapter. (though the epilogue/third chapter might be a little more intimately detailed than this part!)
additionally!! i have two other VERY in depth sdvn AU’s (both with special magic or power structures) in the works. the second broke off from the first and this story broke off from the second lmfao
again, feel free to say hi on twt (_fishtick) and thank you very much for reading!
Mayayu on Chapter 1 Wed 06 Aug 2025 05:25PM UTC
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fishtick on Chapter 1 Thu 07 Aug 2025 03:12AM UTC
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Glitch_Rat123 on Chapter 1 Wed 06 Aug 2025 10:12PM UTC
Last Edited Wed 06 Aug 2025 10:49PM UTC
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fishtick on Chapter 1 Thu 07 Aug 2025 03:15AM UTC
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