Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pure Vanilla was beginning to lose track of time.

The chamber had no windows, only flickering candlelight that cast stretching, deceptive shadows along the stone walls. The same meal appeared at irregular intervals, the same quiet echo of footsteps in the corridors beyond his door. Everything was consistent, controlled—orchestrated.

Shadow Milk was making sure of that.

“You’ve been so quiet today, Sweetling.”

Pure Vanilla tensed at the voice, smooth and honeyed, curling around his senses like silk. Shadow Milk Cookie lounged against the doorframe, his usual smirk in place, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“I’m thinking,” Vanilla muttered.

Shadow Milk hummed in mock approval. “Good, good. Thinking is important.” He took slow, measured steps forward, hands clasped behind his back. “But what is it you’re thinking about? Home? Your little friends?”

Pure Vanilla’s expression remained steady. He had learned not to react—not to give Shadow Milk the satisfaction of seeing him falter.

“Or,” Shadow Milk continued, eyes narrowing with interest, “are you thinking about me?”

Vanilla’s breath hitched, just slightly. But it was enough. Shadow Milk grinned.

“I knew it.” He knelt in front of Vanilla, one gloved finger reaching out to trace the edge of his mask. “I am fascinating, aren’t I?”

“You’re insufferable.”

Shadow Milk gasped, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. “Sweetling, that’s hardly fair. After everything I’ve done for you?”

“You’ve done nothing for me.”

“Haven’t I?” His voice dipped lower, almost gentle. “I’ve given you shelter. I’ve given you company. I’ve kept you safe from all those who might use you.”

“You are the one using me.”

A slow smile crept onto Shadow Milk’s face. “And yet, here you are.”

Vanilla swallowed hard, looking away. He could feel the smugness radiating from Shadow Milk without even seeing it.

“You know,” Shadow Milk mused, “it’s fascinating how the mind works. Did you know memories can be rewritten? If you hear something enough times, if it’s insisted upon—” He leaned closer, breath ghosting over Vanilla’s ear. “—it becomes the truth.”

Pure Vanilla stiffened.

Shadow Milk’s fingers danced lightly down his arm. “What if I told you that you’ve always been here, with me? That the ‘friends’ you remember are nothing more than a story you’ve told yourself?”

Vanilla’s jaw tightened. “I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Not yet,” Shadow Milk conceded. “But you will.”

Pure Vanilla closed his eyes, trying to center himself. This was just another game. Another attempt to get inside his head.

“I think,” Shadow Milk murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from Vanilla’s face, “that you already doubt yourself. Just a little.”

“I don’t.”

The way Shadow Milk smiled at him—like he already knew the outcome—made Vanilla’s stomach twist.

“We’ll see,” Shadow Milk said, standing smoothly. “Sleep well, Sweetling. Tomorrow, we play again.”

The door closed behind him, but his presence lingered, seeping into the cracks of Vanilla’s mind.

He would not fall for it.

He would not let Shadow Milk win.

But still…

His thoughts didn’t feel as steady as they once had.

Chapter Text

It sat there.

Small. Still. Watching.

Pure Vanilla’s stomach twisted at the sight of it.

A plush. Handmade, carefully stitched—identical to him in every way.

Golden hair made of the softest silk thread. Embroidered eyes, the same shade of blue as his own, glassy in a way that made his skin crawl. A tiny, perfect replica of his robes, pristine and untouched. Even the little staff was there, a delicate thing stitched between its stubby hands.

It was... wrong.

And the worst part?

Shadow Milk looked so pleased with himself.

"Well?" Shadow Milk purred, lounging in his chair, fingers tapping against his chin as he observed Pure Vanilla’s reaction. "Aren't you going to say thank you?"

Pure Vanilla swallowed. His hands clenched at his sides. "Why would you make this?"

Shadow Milk pouted dramatically. "You wound me, Sweetling. I spent so much time on it—every little stitch, every little detail, just for you—and this is the thanks I get?"

Pure Vanilla’s fingers itched to push it away. He didn’t want to touch it. Didn’t want to acknowledge it.

"Take it back." His voice was quiet but firm. "I don’t want it."

Shadow Milk’s smile twitched.

"Now, now," he murmured, rising from his seat with slow, deliberate steps. "That’s not very grateful, is it?"

Pure Vanilla flinched as Shadow Milk leaned down, picking up the plush with delicate fingers. He brought it up to his chest, cradling it with the same gentleness one might hold something precious.

"I made it just for you," he said softly, gaze dark, unreadable. "A little companion—so you won’t feel lonely."

"I’m not lonely," Pure Vanilla snapped, but the words sounded weak, hollow.

Shadow Milk hummed, stepping closer. He held out the plush, pressing it against Pure Vanilla’s hands.

"Take it."

The weight of it was nothing, yet it felt crushing.

Pure Vanilla recoiled as though burned. "No."

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Shadow Milk’s eyes.

Then—he laughed.

"Oh, Vanilla," he chuckled, voice rich with amusement. "You act as if it might bite you."

Pure Vanilla refused to look at the thing, breathing unsteady. "I don’t want it."

Shadow Milk clicked his tongue. "What a shame," he sighed, lifting the plush back to his chest. He stroked a finger along its embroidered face, almost... fondly.

Then—he turned it toward Pure Vanilla, tilting its head in a slow, jerking motion.

"Well," Shadow Milk mused, voice dripping with saccharine amusement. "I suppose I’ll just have to love it for you."

The plush’s lifeless gaze bored into Pure Vanilla’s own.

His stomach churned.

Shadow Milk grinned.

"Oh, don’t look so horrified, Sweetling," he purred. "You’ll warm up to it eventually."

Chapter Text

"Sooo~!"

Candy Apple plopped herself onto the plush chair, legs swinging over the armrest, grinning ear to ear. "*What brings you to our humble little therapy session, Your Grace?**"

Pure Vanilla exhaled slowly. "I did not come to you for therapy."

"And yet," Black Sapphire drawled, settling elegantly into the seat across from him, "here you are."

Candy Apple tapped her chin. "Which, you know, kinda implies you want our help."

"Or," Black Sapphire corrected, "he’s simply that desperate."

Pure Vanilla pinched the bridge of his nose. "I regret this already."

"Too late~!" Candy Apple chirped. "So! Let’s get down to business. What’s got your robes in a twist?”

A pause.

Pure Vanilla hesitated.

This was stupid. This was pointless. Why was he even—

"Oh, come on," Black Sapphire sighed. "Spit it out. We don’t have all day."

"Fine."

Pure Vanilla inhaled slowly. "It’s Shadow Milk."

"Obviously," Candy Apple snorted. "What, finally getting tired of your ‘boyfriend’ creeping on you?"

"He is not my—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," she interrupted, waving a hand. "*So, what did he do this time?**"

Pure Vanilla hesitated again. "…It’s not just this time."

Black Sapphire raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"It’s always been this way." His voice was quieter now, hands clasped in his lap, eyes distant. "The possessiveness. The mind games. The watching." He exhaled. "I don’t know if it’s getting worse, or if I’m just finally too tired to pretend it’s normal."

Silence.

For a moment, an actual real moment, neither of them said anything.

Then—

"Pffffft."

Candy Apple burst out laughing.

Pure Vanilla’s expression dropped.

"Oh, oh no—!" she cackled, slapping her knee. "*You’re just now realizing that this whole thing is insane?**"

Black Sapphire sighed, rubbing his temple. "And here I thought you were supposed to be the smart one."

Pure Vanilla closed his eyes. "Why am I here."

"Because you have no one else to talk to," Black Sapphire answered bluntly. "Which is sad. But also, amusing."

"Aww, poor little bishop," Candy Apple cooed, chin resting in her hands. "Is your kingdom full of people too scared to tell you the truth?"

"I do not need to be told the truth," Pure Vanilla said evenly. "I need—"

"What? Comfort? Advice? Sympathy?" Black Sapphire listed each word with a slow, unimpressed tone. "Hate to break it to you, bishop, but you came to the wrong place for that."

"So wrong~," Candy Apple sing-songed. "Like, comically wrong."

Pure Vanilla’s fingers curled into his robes. "Then why did you offer?"

"Because it’s funny, obviously."

"And mildly entertaining."

He inhaled sharply. "You two are insufferable."

"Yes, yes, we know," Black Sapphire sighed. "Now, if you’re done sulking—"

"He’s not," Candy Apple whispered.

"—then let’s wrap this up, shall we?" Black Sapphire continued, ignoring her. "Here’s your expert diagnosis: Your situation is miserable, your choices are terrible, and your expectations are worse. Either fix it, or get used to it."

"Also, stop being so boring," Candy Apple added. "No wonder Shadow Milk’s obsessed with you, you’re like a challenge he can’t win. He loves those."

Pure Vanilla stared. "*You two are awful."

"And yet," Black Sapphire smirked, "you’re still here."

Candy Apple beamed. "See you next session~!"

Pure Vanilla stood up. "There will not be another session."

"Mmm, sure there won’t," she hummed, grinning. "See you soon, Bishop."

Chapter Text

Pure Vanilla did not realize he was shaking until the warmth pressed against his back.

Soft. Cloying. Too much.

The arms that wrapped around him were steady, anchoring, a slow drag of possessiveness. Fingers curled over his wrist, tracing idle patterns against his skin, as if soothing a frightened animal.

"Now, now," Shadow Milk murmured, his voice as thick and sweet as syrup. "What’s this?"

Vanilla’s breath hitched. He turned his head slightly—just enough to see the grin curling against his shoulder.

"I—" His voice wavered, and he hated that. "It’s nothing."

Shadow Milk hummed, low and knowing.

"Nothing?" His grip tightened, pulling Vanilla closer, until their bodies pressed together. "Sweetling, you’re trembling."

Vanilla clenched his jaw.

He should move. He should push away. But his limbs felt heavy, unresponsive, as if sinking into something inevitable.

Shadow Milk sighed, a slow exhale against his temple. "Poor thing. Always carrying so much. Always so strong." His fingers slid along Vanilla’s arm, a ghost of a touch, tracing veins and bone. "Even light needs a place to rest, doesn’t it?"

Vanilla shut his eyes.

He did not want this.

And yet.

The warmth.

It curled around him, relentless, unwavering.

He hated it. Hated how solid it felt. Hated how Shadow Milk pressed against him as if he belonged there.

And yet.

His own body betrayed him.

His breathing evened, just slightly. The shivers subsided, just enough.

Because it was warm.

It was steady.

And he had not been held in so, so long.

Shadow Milk’s grip flexed, as if sensing the shift. He tilted his head, pressing his cheek against Vanilla’s hair, his voice a whisper of silk.

"That’s it," he murmured, a smug purr beneath the feigned sympathy. "Let go, Sweetling."

Vanilla did not respond.

Did not lean in.

Did not pull away.

He simply sat there, caught in the space between want and revulsion, caught in the arms of something he could neither reject nor accept.

And Shadow Milk only held him closer.

Chapter Text

It started with a giggle.

Light. Playful. Brimming with mischief.

Pure Vanilla barely had time to glance up before a small figure landed beside him, her glossy shoes clicking against the floor.

"Wow," Candy Apple chirped, peering up at him with wide, scarlet eyes. "You are boring."

Pure Vanilla blinked, surprised by the sheer bluntness.

She circled him like a curious cat, hands clasped behind her back, her head tilting side to side as if trying to see something he was hiding.

"Don’t you ever do anything?" she asked. "Cry? Scream? Even blink dramatically?" She gasped, suddenly delighted. "Oh! Are you broken?"

Pure Vanilla sighed. "I am not broken."

Candy Apple pouted. "Shame."

She reached out, fingers prodding at his robes, tugging at the fabric like she might find a secret switch hidden underneath.

"Why’s he so dull?" she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "You make such a fuss over him, and for what?"

A shadow loomed.

The air shifted.

Candy Apple barely had time to process before a hand gripped her collar, yanking her away with sharp, possessive force.

She let out a tiny eep as she was pulled back, lifted clean off the ground.

Shadow Milk glared down at her, lip curling. "You," he sneered, voice laced with a venom Pure Vanilla had never heard before.

Candy Apple swung her feet in the air, unimpressed. "Me!"

Shadow Milk's grip tightened. "You are not welcome here."

She crossed her arms. "Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because he is mine."

The words rang through the room.

Candy Apple blinked.

Then—she laughed.

Pure Vanilla tensed. Even now, even under the weight of Shadow Milk’s fingers, she was grinning.

"Oh, that’s funny," she giggled, kicking her legs playfully. "Did he say he was yours? Or did you just decide?"

Shadow Milk’s fingers twitched.

Pure Vanilla could see it—the sharp pull of his shoulders, the slight curl of his fingers, the way his breath came just a fraction deeper.

He was angry.

Genuinely, visibly angry.

Candy Apple’s smile widened.

Shadow Milk threw her.

Not hard, not enough to hurt—just enough to send her stumbling backward, enough to remove her from his space.

Candy Apple landed on her feet, giggling as she straightened her apron. "Yeesh, overprotective much?"

Shadow Milk stepped between them, fully shielding Pure Vanilla from view. His shoulders were tense, his grin pulled tight. "I do not share," he hissed.

Candy Apple smirked. "You don’t own things either, y’know."

A silence stretched.

Pure Vanilla held his breath.

Then—Shadow Milk’s fingers twitched.

And the room shifted.

A pulse of something—something wrong, something twisting—warped the air.

Candy Apple’s expression flickered. For a single second, her grin faltered.

Then—just as quickly—it returned.

She shrugged, giving a careless wave. "Fine, fine, I’ll go," she sighed. "I was getting bored anyway."

She turned toward the door, hopping along like she hadn’t just mocked a nightmare in his own home.

Just before she left, she peeked back over her shoulder. "Have fun with your doll," she teased. "Try not to break him!"

Then—she was gone.

The door clicked shut.

Silence fell.

For a long moment, Shadow Milk did not move.

Then—he turned.

His eyes locked onto Pure Vanilla’s, unreadable, burning.

"Ignore her," he said simply. "She knows nothing."

Pure Vanilla did not respond.

Did not bother.

Shadow Milk stepped closer, curling a finger under his chin, tilting his face just so.

"You," he murmured, smiling faintly, "are mine."

Pure Vanilla exhaled, slow and tired.

And wished, desperately, that Candy Apple had stayed.

Chapter Text

Pure Vanilla had never raised his voice before.

Not like this.

"At least they treat me better than you ever could!"

The words rang out like the crack of a whip, slicing through the air, leaving silence in their wake.

Shadow Milk froze.

His breath hitched—just barely—but Pure Vanilla caught it. His mismatched eyes widened, just a fraction, before narrowing into something razor-sharp, something furious.

Pure Vanilla had seen his anger before. But never like this.

Never this quiet.

And that was terrifying.

"What," Shadow Milk rasped, "did you just say?"

Across the room, Black Sapphire let out a low whistle. "Oof. That’s gonna sting."

Candy Apple giggled. "Ooooh, he’s mad! This is way better than I expected!"

Shadow Milk barely heard them.

No.

No, no, no.

The names, their names—from Vanilla’s lips?

Unforgivable.

His fingers twitched. His breath was shallow, sharp, like he had been stabbed.

"You heard me," Pure Vanilla snapped, stepping forward now, shoving past the sinking dread in his chest. "Candy Apple and Black Sapphire treat me with more respect than you ever have! And they don’t even like me!"

"Ohhh, that’s rough," Black Sapphire mused, arms crossed.

Candy Apple swung her legs off the armrest, grinning. "Mmmm, but he’s not wrong~"

Shadow Milk’s teeth ground together.

"Shut up."

The words weren’t directed at them.

They were seething, spat through clenched teeth, barely holding back the storm beneath his skin.

Pure Vanilla saw the flicker of rage in his eyes. The way his hands trembled—whether from anger or something deeper, he couldn’t tell.

But he didn’t care.

He was done.

"You talk about possession, about being yours, but all you do is control, manipulate, mock me—"

"You are mine."

Shadow Milk’s voice was a whisper, deadly in its softness.

"No," Pure Vanilla hissed, "I am not."

Silence.

Then—Shadow Milk laughed.

It was wrong.

A twisted, breathless thing, bubbling up from his throat like something broken.

Candy Apple tilted her head. "He’s laughing. That’s a bad sign, right?"

Black Sapphire hummed. "Oh, definitely. This is about to get dramatic."

And it did.

Because the second the laughter stopped—

Everything snapped.

Shadow Milk lunged.

The table overturned in an instant, shattering against the ground, glass flying, the candlelight flickering wildly from the force of his movement.

"You dare say their names to me?!"

Pure Vanilla did not flinch.

He refused to flinch.

"They—they do not matter!" Shadow Milk’s breath was ragged, his chest heaving as his fingers clenched at his sides. "I am the only one who matters to you! Do you understand?!"

"No!"

Shadow Milk staggered.

Pure Vanilla’s hands were shaking. His heart was pounding. But his voice did not waver.

"You do not own me."

The words were final.

And for the first time in his life—Shadow Milk had nothing to say.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Then—

"Wow," Candy Apple breathed. "That was amazing."

Black Sapphire nodded. "Ten out of ten argument. Would watch again."

Shadow Milk’s gaze snapped to them, burning with rage. "Get. Out."

"Gladly!" Candy Apple chirped, hopping off the chair.

Black Sapphire stretched, giving Pure Vanilla a lazy smirk. "You’re more interesting than I thought."

Then—with matching shrugs—the two strolled out of the room, murmuring between themselves about how entertaining that had been.

Leaving only two.

Shadow Milk stared at Pure Vanilla, breathing heavy, eyes dark, unreadable.

Pure Vanilla stared back.

Neither spoke.

The damage had already been done.

Chapter Text

"*Ohhhooo, someone’s in a *mood~.**"

Candy Apple’s voice was honeyed mischief, her grin lazy, legs swinging where she perched atop the ledge.

Black Sapphire, ever the more refined sibling, simply adjusted his cuffs and sighed. "Honestly, it’s exhausting watching you spiral like this. Can’t you go be insane in private?"

Shadow Milk twitched.

His fingers clenched at his sides, breath slow, controlled—but the grip on his patience was wearing thin.

They knew it.

They always knew it.

"It’s adorable, really!" Candy Apple continued, hands clasped beneath her chin. "*You get all growly and pouty just ‘cause we mention your *darling love~.**" She kicked her feet. "Not that he’d ever call you that."

Black Sapphire hummed in agreement. "That would require affection."

"Or interest!"

"Or tolerance."

Shadow Milk’s expression twitched.

A sharp inhale.

A deep, slow breath.

"You are testing me." His voice was smooth, cold—carefully measured restraint coiled around every syllable.

Candy Apple leaned forward, eyes glittering. "Duh."

That was the last straw.

The last fragile thread that snapped under his own unraveling control.

"You—!"

The room shook with the force of his voice, shadows curling, twisting, writhing at his feet. His words lashed out, sharp and venomous, filled with something raw and unhinged—

"You dare to mock me?!"

Candy Apple blinked. "Uh, yeah?"

Black Sapphire pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shadow, be serious."

"I AM SERIOUS!"

The shadows lashed outward, a crash of energy slamming into the walls, rattling the furniture, sending stray objects scattering to the floor.

Candy Apple whistled. "Oooo, big tantrum this time!"

"You insult me," Shadow Milk spat, eyes wild, mismatched gaze burning as he stepped forward, "*you mock what you do not understand, you twist and jeer and provoke—and you think I will simply *accept it?**"

"Yes?" Candy Apple tilted her head. "*Because it’s funny?**"

Shadow Milk’s entire body shook. "You think this is a joke."

Black Sapphire gave him a bored look. "Shadow. It is."

That—

That was it.

That was the breaking point.

With a snarl, Shadow Milk lunged.

A blur of motion—shadows bursting forward—

—Only for Candy Apple to twist out of reach, landing effortlessly atop a chair, grinning ear to ear. "Ooo, scary! But you missed~!"

Black Sapphire simply stepped aside, adjusting his sleeves. "Predictable."

Shadow Milk froze.

The air was thick with his own rage, shadows curling, his breath ragged—

And they were just standing there.

Unbothered.

Amused.

He hated it.

"You are insufferable," he hissed, voice lower now, trembling with held-back fury. "Both of you."

Candy Apple beamed. "You love us."

"I do not."

"Mmmm, sure you don’t~."

Shadow Milk turned sharply, seething, his control hanging by a thread. "Leave me."

Black Sapphire raised an eyebrow. "Gladly."

Candy Apple just giggled, hopping off the chair with a playful twirl. "Aw, but you’ll miss us, won’t you?"

Shadow Milk’s fingers twitched. "OUT."

With dramatic flair, Candy Apple skipped out of the room, giggling all the way.

Black Sapphire gave him one last unimpressed glance before turning to leave. "Try not to spiral too hard."

The door shut behind them.

Shadow Milk stood there.

Breath heavy.

Hands trembling.

Chest burning.

They didn’t understand.

They never did.

And he hated them for it.

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk knew how to stay unseen.

It was effortless, really. A flicker of movement in the corner of one’s eye. A shadow stretching just a little too far. The faintest breath of laughter curling through the air, too quiet to be real—yet too present to be ignored.

He was good at this.

And Pure Vanilla never noticed.

Not when he watched from the rafters, legs dangling lazily, his gaze half-lidded, drinking in the sight of his precious, oblivious little healer.

Not when he traced gloved fingers along the rim of Pure Vanilla’s teacup in the moments between his leaving and returning, the warmth of his touch soaking into porcelain like a lingering ghost.

Not when he whispered in the silence of his chambers, speaking words so faint they barely stirred the air, just to see if—somewhere, somehow—Pure Vanilla felt them.

He liked to imagine he did.

Shadow Milk perched in the highest corners of the room, curled like a cat in the dark. Pure Vanilla sat below, at his desk, utterly unaware.

So many nights like this.

So many times Shadow Milk had loomed above him, unseen, unnoticed, watching as he wrote, as he sighed, as he thought—so deeply, so endlessly, never once wondering if he was being observed.

Foolish.

Shadow Milk’s lips curled into a slow, creeping grin.

Did Pure Vanilla ever consider how much he was watched? How often his presence was felt?

Or did he assume himself untouched, separate, untouchable?

The thought was amusing.

And so, so wrong.

Because Shadow Milk was always here.

Lurking in the quiet corners of the world, lingering in the spaces Pure Vanilla left behind.

Wherever he walked, whatever he touched—Shadow Milk had been there first.

A breeze drifted through the open window, stirring the papers on Pure Vanilla’s desk. He reached out, steadying them with a practiced hand. A momentary pause.

Shadow Milk watched, breath catching.

Did he feel him?

No. No, not yet. Not fully.

But perhaps, if he pressed just a little further—

A quiet tap.

Barely a sound, just the lightest flick of a nail against wood. Subtle. Deliberate.

Pure Vanilla’s hand stilled.

Ah.

Shadow Milk grinned.

A flicker of unease, a moment’s hesitation—just enough for a spark of something to form behind those clear blue eyes.

He didn’t turn. Didn’t react beyond that small, telling pause.

But Shadow Milk saw it.

He always did.

The tension in his fingers. The way his breath hitched, too softly for anyone else to notice.

He’s starting to feel it.

Shadow Milk exhaled, slow, satisfied.

Maybe, one day, Pure Vanilla would look up.

And on that day—when those bright, foolish eyes finally met his in the dark—Shadow Milk wondered:

Would he scream?

Would he shudder?

Would he run?

Shadow Milk almost hoped so.

It was so much fun to chase.

Chapter Text

At first, it was just easier to agree.

"You're mine," Shadow Milk would purr, his fingers ghosting over Pure Vanilla’s shoulder. "Aren’t you?"

"...Yes."

A single word. Lifeless. Hollow.

It didn’t matter what answer he gave. Shadow Milk would spin it into the narrative he wanted. If Vanilla refused, he was playing hard to get. If he resisted, it was adorable defiance. If he fought, he was being so dramatic, Sweetling.

And so, he stopped fighting.

It was easier that way.

At least, that was what he told himself.

The first time he reached for Shadow Milk’s hand instead of pulling away, something in the air shifted.

It was subtle.

But Vanilla felt it.

Shadow Milk’s fingers twitched beneath his, as if startled. His breath hitched—not in his usual exaggerated way, but something more real, more visceral.

Then, his grip tightened.

Hard.

"Ah, finally," Shadow Milk breathed, his grin curling wide, sharp, gleeful. "Was that so difficult?"

Vanilla didn’t answer.

He didn’t resist when Shadow Milk pulled him closer, fingers trailing up his arm, pressing against his pulse.

He just stood there.

Still. Silent.

Accepting.

The delighted hum that followed sent a slow, sinking feeling through his gut.

He learned quickly that appeasement did not mean safety.

It only made Shadow Milk hungrier.

"If only you had given in earlier," Shadow Milk mused one evening, twirling a strand of Vanilla’s hair between his fingers. "We could’ve avoided so much nonsense, hmm? But you do love making things difficult, don’t you?"

Vanilla had long since stopped correcting him.

It was pointless.

Truth had no place here.

Only Shadow Milk’s truth.

Then, one night, he made a mistake.

A simple thing. A small thing.

Shadow Milk had been speaking in that lazy, affectionate drawl—some nonsense about fate, about how they were meant to be together, about how nobody else could ever understand Pure Vanilla the way he did.

And Vanilla, tired, worn thin, exhaled a quiet, absentminded, "I know."

A pause.

The air went still.

Too still.

When he looked up, Shadow Milk was staring.

Mismatched eyes wide. Unblinking.

Then—

A breathless chuckle.

"You know?" Shadow Milk repeated, tilting his head. His grin was slow, creeping, almost dazed. "Oh, Sweetling. You know?"

Vanilla realized his mistake too late.

Shadow Milk’s grip locked around his wrist in an instant—tight, painful.

"You know," he murmured, leaning in, his breath warm against Vanilla’s cheek. "Then say it."

Vanilla’s stomach turned.

"...Say what?"

"You know what."

A heartbeat of silence.

Pure Vanilla swallowed.

Then, carefully, deliberately:

"I—belong to you."

Shadow Milk shuddered.

His fingers dug in, his whole frame trembling with something barely restrained.

"Aha." The laugh was airy, delighted. "There it is. There’s my obedient little Vanilla."

Something in his tone made Vanilla’s skin crawl.

He had survived for so long by giving Shadow Milk what he wanted. By nodding, by placating, by letting the storm pass.

But this?

This was not passing.

This was sinking.

He had given too much.

And Shadow Milk had tasted it.

It only got worse from there.

Shadow Milk no longer had to pretend to chase him, to tease him into submission.

He believed, fully, utterly, that Vanilla was his.

And he expected him to act accordingly.

"Where are you going?" The voice was light, but Vanilla knew better than to mistake it for anything gentle.

"...To the window."

"Why?"

"I wanted to feel the breeze."

"Hmm." Shadow Milk’s arms curled around his waist, pulling him back, nuzzling against his shoulder. "You don’t need the window for that, Sweetling. I’m right here."

Pure Vanilla did not resist.

He had done this to himself.

And now, he could never undo it.

He had played along for survival.

And yet, somehow, he had only doomed himself further.

Because now, Shadow Milk didn’t need to break him.

He thought he had already won.

And Pure Vanilla did not know which was worse.

Chapter Text

The room was dim, bathed in the eerie glow of scattered candles. Their light flickered against the cold stone walls, twisting shadows into something alive, something wrong.

Pure Vanilla wished they would all burn out.

But even in darkness, he would still be here.

"You’re tense, Sweetling."

The voice curled against his skin like a touch, saccharine-smooth, playful in a way that made his stomach churn.

Vanilla did not move.

He sat rigid on the edge of his seat, fingers curled into his robes, breath slow, measured. Shadow Milk lounged beside him, far too close, draping himself across the cushions with a laziness that belied something more dangerous.

"You should relax." A gloved hand ghosted over his shoulder.

Pure Vanilla stilled.

The touch was light, almost teasing, but every fiber of his being recoiled. It was the kind of touch that lingered—not in sensation, but in the knowledge that it had happened. That it could happen again.

Shadow Milk knew this.

"Look at you," the jester hummed, voice laced with amusement. "So stiff. So tense. You really should loosen up, you know?"

He shifted, leaning in.

Pure Vanilla didn’t breathe.

Soft fingers brushed against his collar, trailing over the delicate gold trim. Not forceful. Not cruel. Just enough to be suffocating.

Vanilla hated it.

Hated the warmth, hated the silk of his gloves, hated the way Shadow Milk touched him like he could.

Like he had the right.

"You don’t like this, do you?" The jester mused, tilting his head. He toyed with the end of Vanilla’s sleeve, curling the fabric between his fingers. "I can tell. It’s rather cute, you know. The way you try so hard not to flinch."

Pure Vanilla clenched his jaw.

Shadow Milk chuckled.

"Ah, but I must say—" His hand trailed lower, grazing the inside of Vanilla’s wrist. "You’re enduring it quite well."

That was when Vanilla moved.

Not much. Not violently.

Just enough.

His wrist twisted, slipping from the touch like water through fingers. His hands folded in his lap again, prim, composed.

A silent no.

Shadow Milk stilled.

For a long moment, the room was silent.

Then—

A sharp laugh, short and delighted.

"Oh, now that’s adorable."

Vanilla closed his eyes.

It didn’t matter. Nothing ever did.

Because Shadow Milk only leaned closer, his breath brushing against his ear.

"Are you really that afraid of me touching you?"

Vanilla wished he was dead.

No. That wasn’t quite right.

He wished he had never existed.

Because existence meant this. It meant this endless, suffocating cycle of Shadow Milk’s voice in his ear, his breath on his skin, his presence always, always there.

Trapped.

Always trapped.

Shadow Milk sighed dramatically. "You wound me, Vanilla." A gloved finger traced an invisible shape against his sleeve. "I’m not even doing anything. Not really. Just a little touch, a little closeness, a little—"

Pure Vanilla moved again.

This time, he stood.

Shadow Milk blinked, watching as the other Cookie turned, stepping toward the window. He did not speak, did not react, did not acknowledge him at all.

He simply stared outside, gaze vacant.

Shadow Milk tilted his head.

"You really do hate this, don’t you?"

Silence.

The jester grinned.

"Oh, Sweetling." He stretched, rolling his shoulders. "That’s so fun for me."

Vanilla did not react.

Did not move.

Did not breathe.

He simply waited.

Waited for Shadow Milk to grow bored. Waited for him to leave, to find some other amusement, some other way to entertain his endless, crawling hunger for attention.

Waited for this moment—this existence—to be over.

Because that was all he could do.

And oh, how he hated it.

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk hated silence.

He hated it when it stretched, suffocating, pressing against his skin like a thousand needles.

But what he hated most was when Pure Vanilla was the one who caused it.

He stood there—sat there—breathed there—without even acknowledging him.

Not a glance.

Not a twitch.

Not even an exhale in his direction.

And Shadow Milk felt it.

The way his chest tightened, the way his fingers twitched at his sides, the way his mind spiraled, faster, faster—

He’s ignoring you.

He’s ignoring you on purpose.

He thinks you don’t matter.

You do matter.

So why isn’t he looking at you?

"Vanilla." His voice was smooth, even. Controlled. "Sweetling."

Nothing.

The spiral dipped lower.

His eye twitched.

From a distance, Black Sapphire sighed, adjusting his cuffs. "Here we go."

Candy Apple perked up, swinging her legs from where she sat on the ledge. "Ohhh, finally! I thought he’d hold out longer!"

Shadow Milk took a slow step forward. "Vanilla."

Still, nothing.

His lips curled. "You’re being dramatic."

No response.

His fingers dug into his palms. "Do you hear me?"

Silence.

"*Sweetling.**"

More silence.

The spiral tightened.

The pressure in his chest grew unbearable, a suffocating need clawing at his ribs. He had to hear him. He had to force a reaction—

Something.

Anything.

The chair slammed backward, hitting the floor with a deafening crash.

Pure Vanilla did not move.

Shadow Milk’s breath came faster now, his mind an incoherent mess of white noise and screaming thoughts.

"Why won’t you look at me?!"

No answer.

"I am speaking to you!" His voice cracked, the edges fraying, unraveling, desperation twisting into rage. "I am— I am right here, Vanilla! I am always here! I am the only one who will ever stay, the only one who will ever understand you!"

Nothing.

Only the flickering candlelight and the weight of his own heaving breaths.

Candy Apple bit her lip, barely suppressing a giggle. "He’s losing it."

Black Sapphire hummed, arms crossed. "This is embarrassing."

Candy Apple elbowed him. "It’s fun!"

Shadow Milk’s vision blurred, breath ragged, hands trembling.

This was wrong.

This was so wrong.

Vanilla should have—should have said something. Even if it was anger. Even if it was hatred.

Anything but this.

This quiet, indifferent void.

Shadow Milk staggered back, hands curling, nails pressing into his palms hard enough to break skin. "Fine," he rasped, voice barely above a whisper. "Ignore me, then."

He turned sharply, storming out, shoulders tense, body rigid.

The second the door slammed shut—

Candy Apple cackled.

"*Ohhhoho, he is in shambles! This is great!"

Black Sapphire rolled his eyes, though amusement glinted in his expression. "Pitiful. He really thinks throwing a tantrum is going to get him what he wants?*"

Candy Apple wiped a tear from her eye. "Ohhh, I hope Vanilla keeps ignoring him. This is way too fun."

From his seat, Pure Vanilla finally exhaled.

His shoulders ached.

His head throbbed.

But—

He had won this round.

And that was enough.

For now.

Chapter Text

"Do you ever wonder about them?"

Black Sapphire didn’t look up from his book, his sharp eyes scanning the pages with disinterest. "Who?"

"Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla," Candy Apple replied, her voice dripping with curiosity as she lazily twirled a lock of her hair. "They’re such a weird couple, don’t you think?"

Black Sapphire snorted, eyes never leaving the book. "Weird is an understatement."

"What do you mean?" Candy Apple raised an eyebrow, resting her chin on her palm. "You don’t think they’re… cute?"* She said the word as though it was foreign to her mouth.

"Cute?" Black Sapphire repeated, as if the idea was absurd. "They’re both insane."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," she mused, tilting her head with that sickly sweet smile of hers. "*I mean, they’re totally dysfunctional, but I think that’s what makes it so *fascinating.**"

"If by fascinating you mean utterly exhausting, sure," Black Sapphire muttered, flicking a page. "I really don’t see the appeal of watching two unstable idiots go back and forth like some kind of circus act."

"I don’t know," Candy Apple grinned wider, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "It’s just so entertaining. I mean, have you seen how Shadow Milk acts around Vanilla? It’s like he thinks he owns him or something."

Black Sapphire’s lips twitched into something that could almost be considered a smirk, but he didn’t respond immediately.

"He does act like that," Candy Apple continued, now twirling in her chair. "It’s so obvious, like, in his little delusional world, he is the center of Vanilla’s universe. Like that’s ever going to happen."

"It is hilarious," Black Sapphire finally said, almost sounding bored. "The way he clings to Vanilla like a shadow, and Vanilla just—what?—ignores him? Looks through him? I don’t even know how that’s possible. Vanilla's got his own problems to deal with, and Shadow Milk thinks Vanilla’s going to suddenly fall into his arms? Hilarious."

"I know right?" Candy Apple giggled, as though Black Sapphire had just shared some grand revelation. "It’s like Vanilla’s actively trying to make Shadow Milk miserable. The whole situation is like a trainwreck I can’t look away from."

"I’m not sure why you find it so entertaining," Black Sapphire remarked, closing his book with a soft snap. "Honestly, it’s mostly just annoying. If Vanilla hates it so much, why doesn't he just— I don't know, do something?*"

"Because he’s Pure Vanilla," Candy Apple said airily, gesturing vaguely with her hand. "He just sits there, quietly tolerating everything, like a martyr. It’s like he’s too passive to even try and end it. And that just makes it more fun to watch! He’s so stoic. It’s like he wants to be miserable."

"I doubt that," Black Sapphire muttered, leaning back in his chair. "But I’m not about to waste my time trying to figure out Vanilla’s motives. I have better things to do."

Candy Apple’s eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief. "Better things like… What? Teasing Shadow Milk a bit more? Or staring off into space because you're too lazy to engage in anything meaningful?"

"You really are a pain to talk to," Black Sapphire muttered, rubbing his forehead. "I can't believe I'm even entertaining this conversation."

"Oh, come on, Sapphire," Candy Apple grinned. "You know you secretly love the drama. I mean, it’s not like you have anything else better to do."

"What? Be involved in this nonsense? No thanks," he said, pushing the conversation away with a wave of his hand. "But since you’re insistent on talking about it, I guess it’s amusing to watch them both implode. Pure Vanilla’s too uptight to ever make a move, and Shadow Milk is too unhinged to do anything but make moves. What could be more hilarious than that?"

"See? You get it," Candy Apple said smugly, leaning back in her chair. "Shadow Milk’s obsession with him is so obvious, but it’s also completely pathetic. I almost feel sorry for him… But only almost."

"I don’t feel sorry for anyone in this weird little drama," Black Sapphire replied, glancing out the window with a detached look. "At the end of the day, it’s just another set of idiots fighting over someone who doesn't care about either of them."

Candy Apple rolled her eyes, her smile faltering for a split second. "You’re just bitter because you’ve never been the one someone obsessed over."

Black Sapphire gave her a sharp look. "And you’re just jealous you didn’t get the chance to make this whole thing more complicated for fun. You’re terrible, and that’s why I barely even talk to you most days."

"That’s harsh," Candy Apple responded, clicking her tongue. "But it’s true. I’d be a way better match for Vanilla than Shadow Milk. All Vanilla would have to do is smile at me, and I’d have him wrapped around my finger in a minute."

"Sure," Black Sapphire replied dryly. "Keep dreaming, Candy. He doesn’t even know you exist outside of your pranks."

"He will one day," she smirked, clearly unfazed by the mockery. "Mark my words. Vanilla’s gonna want me before long."

"Uh-huh," Black Sapphire said, rolling his eyes. "Keep deluding yourself. But as long as I don’t have to deal with either of you, I’m fine."

Candy Apple shrugged, stretching her arms above her head. "Fine by me, Sapphire. But mark my words—one day, Pure Vanilla is going to realize the obvious choice is me, not that creepy stalker."

"Sure, sure," Black Sapphire muttered, already losing interest. "I’ll be over here pretending I don’t know either of you."

Candy Apple grinned, unbothered. "You’re no fun, you know that?"

"You’re exhausting," Black Sapphire replied, finally getting up and walking away. "If you're done torturing me with this nonsense, I’m leaving. Enjoy your delusions, Candy."

Candy Apple watched him go, then shrugged to herself with a chuckle. "I will. Thanks for the chat, Sapphire!"