What A Bakeday, When Shared With The One I Love Most.

by TheRealSMCFan

Summary:

“I know,” he murmurs, grinning when Shadow Milk growls weakly into his shoulder. “You’re allowed to cry, Bluebird. You’ve always been so strong for me, let me hold you.”

Or!

It’s Shadow Milk’s bakeday, and his husband is oh-so prepared!

Notes:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME IRL AKA THE BEAUTIFUL,ALL-KNOWING, MOST HANDSOME AND PERFECT & GREAT PLAYWRITE,POET, ACTOR AND JESTER,

SHADOW MILK COOKIEEE!!!!!

Pure Vanilla winces as the sewing needle pokes his fingertip once again, accidentally dropping his Vanilla Beholder in the process of waving his hand to soothe it, said staff dropping to the floor with a dull this that left Pure Vanilla to blink furiously, dizzy from the whiplash. With a sigh, he moves to hold his staff once more, and begins to sew the thread into the doll once more.

 

Meanwhile, Shadow Milk Cookie had just awoken, grumbling as he walks down the hallway, slippers barely making any noise against the cold marble floors. He couldve just floated, but he wanted to perhaps catch the attention of His other half. the halls should’ve been filled with warmth and laughter by now surely, but alas, here he was. alone and bitter. “ he didn’t forget.” Shadow Milk mutters, bites his lip as he pushes open the doors to the garden, stepping into the sunlight, eyes narrowing in irritation as he spots the Vanilla Beholders, their eyes squinted and bright as ever as they bob in the wind.

 

“ oh, shut up.” Shadow Milk huffs, stomping over to the flower patch, sitting amongst them with crossed arms, fingers digging into his dough. “ He probably got caught up in his duties. He wouldn’t forget something about me.” He scoffs, voice near growl as he turned his head to stare at the blueberry beholders, their petals soft against the breeze and eyes blinking up at him somewhat sympathetically.

 

The Vanilla Beholders swayed closer, nudging his shoulder with their petals as they eyes upon them turn downward in what could be pity, earning them a sharp glare. “ Oh, don’t look at me like that! He better have a damn good excuse. Even I remembered his bakeday.” Shadow Milk grumbled, leaning back into the grass, fingers twitching as attempts to calm himself down with counting in his head.

 

The Vanilla Beholders only flutter in the breeze, leaning to nuzzle against his cheek. Despite himself, he did not pull away, nor did he glare. Only chewed his lip, and pouted.

 

“..whatever. It’s just another day, anyways. Nothing’s changed.” He huffed, although the frown upon his face only deepened at the thought. Nothing has changed? If that was true, would that mean he hadn’t changed?

 

…No, he knew he had. See, even just a moment ago he had used what Pure Vanilla had called a ‘coping skill’. If he hadn’t changed, he never would have even thought of trying such idiocy.

 

Shadow Milk is pulled from his thoughts when a clione had flown down from a perch it sat atop, chirping above him. It was…kind of cute. He once again does not decline or attempt to stop when the clione lowers itself down to cuddle against the crevice of his neck, soft feathers brushing his chin.

He missed Pure Vanilla.

---

Pure Vanilla finally ties off the last stitch with shaky fingers, gently pressing the button on the plushie’s chest. “ Your silly nilly loves you, bluebird.” The recorded voice chirps, slightly muffled by the stuffing. He exhales sharply, clutching the small doll close as he tucks his staff under his arm, heart pounding with anticipation—and guilt. How long had Shadow Milk been waiting?

 

The plushie is hastily shoved under his hat, barely secured before he’s practically sprinting down the hall, his robes fluttering behind him. He skids around a corner, sandals screeching against marble, and nearly collides face-first with the kitchen doorframe. Catching himself with a yelp, he blinks at the wooden door, then slowly grins.

 

Yes! Oh, what a wonderful idea. He should bake the two of them Blueberry scones—Shadow Milk’s favorite—for lunch!

 

Pure Vanilla throws open the kitchen doors with a flourish, already rolling up his sleeves as flour left out from the castle’s bakers puffs into the air from the sudden gust. His staff clatters onto the countertop as he rummages through cabinets, humming a cheerful tune under his breath. The plushie shifts uncomfortably under his hat, and he reaches up to adjust it with a sheepish chuckle, lifting his hat to gentle grasp the doll and set it onto the counter. “Ah, patience, little me," he murmurs, as if the inanimate object could hear him. "Just a bit longer!”

---

Shadow Milk digs his fingers into the soft earth beside him, plucking petals off a nearby Blueberry Beholder,one by one, only to pause mid-tear when the flower flinches, the eyes squeezing shut. His scowl falters. With a sigh, he leans forward, pressing his forehead against the blooms. “You’re right,” he mutters, “I’m being ridiculous.” The flowers sway, brushing their petals against his cheeks like a soothing hand would. Accept for this, the warmth doesn’t last. Something cold settles in his chest. What if Pure Vanilla had forgotten?

 

The clione chirps again, its little body vibrating against his neck, and Shadow Milk snaps his teeth together to keep a whimper from escaping. This was pathetic. He used to burn dreams and twist realities. Now here he was, trembling like a child because his beloved might’ve—probably had, overlooked a date on the calendar. And the The worst part of it? He couldn’t even summon up the proper fury for it. Just…hurt. Like a bruise that had been pressed too harshly. “Stop it,” he hisses, shaking his head sharply. The clione doesn’t listen, nuzzling closer, and Shadow Milk curses under his breath, scrubbing his sleeve across his face.

 

The garden doors burst open with enough force to send a nearby Vanilla Beholder tumbling head over stem. Pure Vanilla stumbles inside, his sandals catching on the uneven cobblestones, and barely manages to right himself before crashing face-first into the Blueberry Beholders. Flour dusts his robes, and his hat sits askew, revealing a tuft of golden hair sticking up wildly, but clutched in his hands is a steaming basket of scones, blueberry—his favorite. The clione flutters up, circling Pure Vanilla’s head with delighted chirps, and Shadow Milk’s cant help but snicker at the cartoon-like scene.

 

Pure Vanilla’s cheeks are flushed, his chest heaving like he’d sprinted across the kingdom, and Shadow Milk watches, transfixed, as a single bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face. His grip tightens around the basket handle, knuckles white, and something in Shadow Milk’s chest twists painfully—but not in anger. The flowers around him rustle excitedly, their petals brushing his arms, urging him forward, but he stays rooted to the spot, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line. Pure Vanilla hesitates for only a second before his expression softens, and he stands to step forward, his staff clinking softly against the cobblestones.

 

He kneels in front of Shadow Milk, the basket set carefully to the side, and his fingers, slightly stained from jam, reach out to gently stroke the petals of the nearest Blueberry Beholder. The flower leans into his touch, eyes squinting in delight, and Shadow Milk huffs, turning his face away—though his ears burn violet. Pure Vanilla’s smile widens as he turns his attention to the clione still fluttering around him, letting it land on his outstretched finger. Its tiny body vibrates against his dough, and he laughs softly, pressing his nose against its soft feathers before it flits off again.

 

Then, without hesitation, Pure Vanilla reaches for Shadow Milk’s hand, uncurling the stiff fingers with a  tenderness only he could hold. Shadow Milk tenses, grip twitching, but doesn’t pull away as Pure Vanilla presses his lips to each knuckle slowly, his breath warm against the cool dough. “Happy Bakeday, Bluebird,” he murmurs against Shadow Milk’s fingers, voice muffled but unmistakably fond. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” The clione lands on Shadow Milk’s shoulder again, chirping softly, and Shadow Milk’s jaw clenches as his fingers curl slightly against Pure Vanilla’s palm, but he doesn’t yank his hand back.

 

Pure Vanilla’s thumb brushes over Shadow Milk’s wrist, tracing circles into the soft dough with gentle, reassuring touch. “I made your favorite,” he adds with a small grin, nodding to the basket of still-warm scones nearby, steam curling lazily from the golden tops. He hesitates for only a second before biting his lip, expression shifting into something softer, almost nervous as he pulls his hands away. “And…well, I made you something else.” His free hand lifts to his hat, rummaging beneath the fabric before pulling out the plushie with a flourish, stitches slightly uneven, stuffing bulging at the seams, but unmistakably himself, blond hair and tan skin, with a button peeking out from the souljam on its chest.

 

Shadow Milk’s breath hitches as he stares at the doll, lips parted, pupils dilating slightly as recognition dawns. The clione flutters down to inspect it, chirping curiously before nudging its beak against the plushie’s neck, prompting the toy’s button to depress with a tiny click. “Your silly nilly loves you, bluebird,” Pure Vanilla’s voice echoes from the doll, warm as the sun and sweet as sugar, and Shadow Milk’s entire body stiffens, fingers twitching against the grass. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, eyes darting between the plushie and Pure Vanilla’s hopeful expression.

 

The silence stretches too long. Pure Vanilla’s smile wavers, fingers tightening around the doll’s tiny body. “I..Iknow it’s not much,” he starts, voice quieter now, uncertain, “but I thought—” He’s cut off as Shadow Milk suddenly lurches forward, snatching the plushie from his hands with more force than intended, claws pricking the fabric. For a horrifying second, Pure Vanilla thinks he’s ruined everything, until Shadow Milk crushes the doll to his face, forehead pressing into its soft stomach as his shoulders trembled slightly.

 

The clione chirps a soft song before nuzzling Shadow Milk one more time, fluttering away with a last chirp, leaving only the rustle of petals and Shadow Milk’s ragged breathing between them. “You—” Shadow Milk’s voice cracks, muffled against the plushie. “You absolute idiot.” He pulls back just enough to glare, but his pupils are blown wide, dough flushed darker where the plushie had been pressed. “You-..you stitched your own voice into this..this thing.” His grip tightens around it, claws sinking deeper, and Pure Vanilla winces—but then Shadow Milk’s expression crumples, and he’s yanking Pure Vanilla forward by the collar, their foreheads knocking together with a dull thud. “I hate you,” he rasps, but his lips are quivering, breath hot against Pure Vanilla’s mouth. “I hate you.”

 

Pure Vanilla’s hands instinctively come up to cradle Shadow Milk’s cheeks, thumbs brushing away the dampness gathering at the corners of his eyes. His own vision swims, milky and blurred, but he doesn’t need clear sight to memorize the way Shadow Milk’s lashes stick together in clumps, or how his nose scrunches when he’s trying not to cry. “I know,” he murmurs, grinning even as his own throat tightens. “You’re terrible at lying for the ‘beast of deceit’, Bluebird.”

 

Shadow Milk growls, but it’s half-hearted, his teeth sinking into his own lip to stifle a sob. The plushie dangles awkwardly between them, one of its arms caught in Shadow Milk’s death grip, the other flopping pathetically against Pure Vanilla’s chest as Shadow Milk pulls him into a kiss. The chest of the plushie presses between both of their souljams, button being pressed lightly.

 

“Your silly nilly loves you, bluebird.” The doll speaks again, muffled against their chests, and Shadow Milk makes a wounded noise against Pure Vanilla’s lips, his entire body shuddering as his claws dig into the fabric of Pure Vanilla’s robes. The sound of the doll’s voice, of Pure Vanilla’s voice, so soft, so unbearably fond, just makes his knees buckle. He grips Pure Vanilla tighter, pressing their foreheads together again as he gasps for air, tears streaming freely now. “Shut up,” he chokes out, voice wrecked, pressing the doll harder against them as if he could somehow silence it through sheer force. “You fool..”

 

Pure Vanilla laughs and strokes Shadow Milk’s cheeks, thumbs tracing the damp trails beneath his eyes. The doll’s button presses again, its voice overlapping with Pure Vanilla’s own as he murmurs, “I love you,” right as the toy echoes, “bluebird.” Shadow Milk’s bottom lip trembles, and he buries his face into Pure Vanilla’s shoulder with a strangled sob, fists clenching in the fabric as his entire body trembles, hair thrashing behind him as the eyes embedded in them are wide and dripping, the pupils heart shaped.

 

The doll speaks again, muffled against Shadow Milk’s chest, and he chokes on another sob, pressing his mouth against Pure Vanilla’s collarbone as if he could bite back the way his breath catches. Pure Vanilla hums and strokes his back, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “I know,” he murmurs, grinning when Shadow Milk growls weakly into his shoulder. “You’re allowed to cry, Bluebird. You’ve always been so strong for me, let me hold you.”

 

Shadow Milk’s grip slackens, the plushie slipping from his fingers as Pure Vanilla tugs him fully into his lap, knees bracketing his thighs. His claws dig into Pure Vanilla’s sleeves, trembling as he presses his forehead against Pure Vanilla’s chest, silent tears soaking into the fabric. Pure Vanilla cups the back of his head, fingers threading through the tangled locks, whispering nonsense against his scalp—how loved he is, how proud he is, how much he adores him.

 

Pure Vanilla reaches between them to grab the doll, smiling softly at it nuzzling it against his lovers cheek, moving to kiss his other cheek as he does so.

 

“Nilla attack!” Pure Vanilla suddenly exclaims, shaking the doll in Shadow Milk’s face with exaggerated ferocity, his usually calm expression twisted into an exaggerated scowl. Shadow Milk blinks, then snorts, his shoulders shaking as laughter bubbles up from his throat, shaky and breathless. The sound is rough from disuse, cracking midway, but it’s genuine, and Pure Vanilla’s heart swells at the sight through his staff of his teeth glinting in the sunlight, his eyes scrunched shut with mirth.

 

They both settle into a comfortable silence, their breathing syncing as Shadow Milk leans back against Pure Vanilla’s chest, his fingers tracing the clumsy stitches of the plushie Pure Vanilla still held absently. His gaze drifts to the flower patch beside them, where the Vanilla and Blueberry Beholders had curled together, petals intertwined much like they were.

 

With a hum, Shadow Milk grins up at his beloved.

 

“Give me a blueberry scone now, you owe me. Plus an extra night of getting to be in charge— stroke my ego and deal with it.”

 

Pure Vanilla’s laugh bubbles up as Shadow Milk plucks the doll from his hands, pressing the button one more time just to hear the recording again. The plushie’s voice mingles with the rustling petals, and Shadow Milk’s grin softens into something gentle. He shoves half a scone into his mouth before leaning forward, pressing the other half against Pure Vanilla’s lips—crumbs scatter as he mutters, “Eat something before you faint, idiot.”

 

Pure Vanilla chuckles, opening his mouth obediently, letting Shadow Milk push the scone past his teeth with a flourish. The sweetness blooms across his tongue, buttery and rich with bursts of tart blueberry—his chest swells with pride at how perfectly they’d turned out. Jam glistens on Shadow Milk’s lower lip, and Pure Vanilla’s breath catches. Without thinking, he grips Shadow Milk’s chin gently, pulling him close enough that their noses brush.

 

The first lick is deliberate, slow—his tongue dragging the sticky sweetness from Shadow Milk’s lip, savoring the way his breath hitches. He lingers there, lips hovering just shy of a kiss, murmuring against the corner of his mouth, "The sun’s almost gone, Bluebird… Do you want your other gift now?" The implication drips from his voice like honey, thick and sweet, and Shadow Milk’s eyes widen instantly, his claws digging into Pure Vanilla’s shoulders.

 

Ah, fuck it. It was his bakeday, afterall. He’d be damned if he did not get his fill!

 

Shadow Milk gripped Pure Vanilla’s robes tighter, pulling him flush against himself, teeth catching his lower lip in a sharp tug—just enough to sting. Pure Vanilla’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening around Shadow Milk’s chin as he licked into his mouth with a soft groan, tasting blueberries and the faint metallic tang of his own dough where Shadow Milk had bitten too hard.

 

The plushie tumbled forgotten into the grass, crushed between their bodies as Shadow Milk pushed forward, his claws digging crescent moons into Pure Vanilla’s back. The Vanilla Beholders curled and ducked away, petals fluttering wildly in embarrassment when the blueberry beholders give them a narrow eyed look as Shadow Milk’s hair thrashed behind him, the embedded eyes narrowing with possessive glee.

 

What a bakeday indeed.

Notes:

ACK I WILL INDEED BE MAKING A COMIC OF THIS (although i suck at art, anything for the cookie whom is i) IT’LL MOST LIKELY BE POSTED ON MY TIKTOK!!