Chapter Text
Shadow Milk wasn’t one to be patient—better yet, he absolutely despised being or having to give one patience. Which is exactly why every time something goes against his script, or someone, He gets easily worked up and makes rash decisions. And mistakes.
Which is…what brought him here, in the kitchen of the Vanilla Kingdom—A huge mistake, as it only brought him to the same spot every other week; In the mindset of a snobbish, too-good-for-this-dough-line- cookie, Throwing a tantrum as if the world itself had cursed him.
“You’re being unreasonable, Shadow Milk,” Pure Vanilla sighed, his voice a low murmur against the backdrop of clattering pans and distant chatter. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, trying to maintain that infuriatingly calm composure. “We’ve discussed this. The school systems won’t allow the old form of lecturing, but we’re working on a solution. Yelling at me won’t—“
Shadow Milk interrupted him with a scoff, hands being thrown up in exasperation. “Solutions? Inform me, please! I’d love to know there is some sort of solution I’m not aware of!” He exclaimed, hair thrashing around in irritation.
Pure Vanilla studied him for a long moment—the tense line of his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to shatter something. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his long, blonde hair. A frown settled on his face as he weighed his next words carefully. “Fine,” he conceded, voice low but not devoid of it’s natural warmth. “If it will calm this… frenzy, you may accompany me to the council meeting tomorrow. We’ll present your concerns directly, okay?” He said, giving His other half a little smile in hopes of making his mood less sour.
Shadow Milk huffed, crossing his arms tighter against his chest, ready to snap back—Of course he’d wait until I threw a fit to agree—when a sudden, crushing weight slammed into his skull. He winced violently, doubling over with a choked gasp. His vision swam, dark spots dancing at the edges. What in the world? Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened in alarm, shoulders tensing “Shadow Milk? What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping closer as Shadow Milk only groans, gripping his head tightly.
Before Shadow Milk could bite out a reply, a blinding flash erupted—not light, but thick, swirling magic the color of spilled ink and midnight sky. It felt eerily familiar, cold and possessive, wrapping around him like chains. Shadow Milk cursed, low and venomous, as the magic swallowed him whole. Pure Vanilla lunged forward, hand outstretched, but grasped only empty air where Shadow Milk had been. As, after the swirls calmed, he was no where to be seen.
Pure Vanilla feels his body warm up with what could be identified as adrenaline, his head tilting slightly in disbelief. That wasn’t his Bluebird’s magic—oh,no. It was much more cold to the dough, yet also…true?
Oh, gods.
Pure Vanilla didn't hesitate. He was already moving, tearing through the kitchen door so fast it slammed against the wall with a sharp crack. Servants scattered like startled birds as he bolted down the corridor, memory saving him once more as he all but remembers his staff held sight. Ah, the things panic did to a person.
But… That magic—cold, invasive, utterly wrong—it wasn't Shadow Milk's own chaotic energy. It felt ancient. Calculating. And vanishingly familiar, like a half-remembered nightmare, which made no sense!! He knew of no other cookie that possessed the same magic as His Bluebird did!
He knew someone who could be of help, although Shadow Milk would rather die than be told she did—he’d just..leave out the part she helped.
White Lily. The name pounded in his skull with each blind stride. She'd cataloged anomalies, studied temporal fractures. If anyone could parse this violation, it was her. He skidded around a corner, nearly colliding with a towering vase he didnt remember putting there—curse His bluebird and his antics—his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The council chamber could wait. The kingdom could wait. Shadow Milk was gone, swallowed by something that felt like him, but wasn't him! And Pure Vanilla wouldn't lose him. Not again.
Shadow Milk groaned, peeling his eyes open to the familiar canopy of his spire's bed—except it wasn't. The velvet felt coarser, the air thick with stale incense instead of ozone. His head throbbed like a war drum. When did he leave Pure Vanilla's kitchen? His head hurt. He pinched the sheets he lay on between his fingers, brows furrowing. Okay, this definitely wasn’t his bed.
A low chuckle cut through the silence from the corner. Shadow Milk snapped his gaze toward the sound, every muscle locking tight. There, leaning against a bookshelf crammed with scrolls, stood a cookie who mirrored his silhouette—same sharp cheekbones, same liquid like hair—but draped in white and gold robes instead of black and blue. Scholar's garb? No. This one carried himself with eerie stillness, kinda creepy. Nothing scholarly about that predatory calm, although the looks could pass as at the very least a mock scholar looking for a cock up his ass.
"Awake at last?" The stranger's voice was his own, but smoother and more polished. More Honest. "Welcome, welcome!!” He smiled, clapping his hands as he moves to step closer, just as Shadow Milk startled off the bed, now standing aswell.
Sage walked closer until he could easily touch him, eyes lingering on his souljam.
Shadow Milk Frowned, Eyes wide.
Sage only smiled brightly, wrapping an arm around his waist and a hand onto his jaw.
“This is what I turned to in a separate universe?A fool? How humorous!!”
He exclaimed, his voice a pitch higher.
With a low hum, Sage pulled Shadow Milk’s body against his own.
“To think you are me, how unearthly! Although,”
He frowned, moving his hands down His waist, kneading the dough on his hips.
“I must say, your body is much smaller than mine! Not to mention curved, as-well. “ Sage chuckled softly, pulling Shadow Milk closer to him, His hands moving to grope his chest. Shadow Milk shuddered at the contact, trying to push him away—but Sage was stronger. Much stronger. His grip was iron, unyielding. “Get off me!” Shadow Milk snarled, twisting violently. Sage only laughed, low and smooth. “Oh, but why? You’re me, aren’t you? Just…lesser.” His fingers dug into Shadow Milk’s ribs, possessive and cold. “And far more interesting! I just have to learn more before you sadly have to depart back to your Little Truthy.”
Shadow Milk gasped as Sage’s hand slid lower, cupping him through the tight fabric of his harlequin suit. Sage’s breath hitched—a sharp, hungry sound. “Oh? Female parts? How delightful,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips brushed Shadow Milk’s ear. “I wonder how sensitive you are.” Shadow Milk froze, dread pooling in his stomach as Sage’s other hand tangled in his hair, tilting his head back. Things were moving way too fast for Shadow Milk. Sage’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with manic curiosity—and something darker, hotter. Lust. For himself. For this twisted reflection. Sage’s mouth descended toward his, wet and eager, ready to devour—
The door slammed open with a hollow thud. Sage jerked back instantly, his grip loosening. Shadow Milk stumbled away, chest heaving. In the doorway stood Pure Vanilla—but wrong. Gaunt, hollow-cheeked,and..strangely hot. His robes hung loose and stained, his hair limp and tangled. No warmth. No light. Only a chilling, empty stillness. Truthless Recluse. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stared at Sage with that unnerving, vacant gaze. Sage’s playful smirk vanished, replaced by icy irritation. “Truthless,” he snapped, voice tight. “I was occupied, my dear reclus-“ Yet, he couldn’t even finish his sentence without being interrupted by a scolding toned Truthless.
Truthless’s voice was a raspy, cold whisper, devoid of Pure Vanilla’s melody. “You tore the veil.” His bony finger pointed at Sage, trembling slightly. “Again.” The accusation hung heavy, sharp. Sage bristled, his elegant posture stiffening. “A minor divergence! For study!” he protested, gesturing dismissively at Shadow Milk. Shadow Milk stared, frozen. For a dizzying second, he saw Pure Vanilla—his Pure Vanilla—in that ravaged face. The curve of the jaw, the arch of the brow. But this wasn’t the cookie who’d offered a council seat. This was decay. This was betrayal baked into dough. A choked sound escaped Shadow Milk’s throat—half-disgust, half-recognition. His own Pure Vanilla, corrupted die to not by his own hands? The thought curdled his stomach. Sage scoffed, stepping between Truthless and Shadow Milk. “Study requires samples, recluse. This one,” he flicked a dismissive glance at Shadow Milk, “is fascinatingly flawed. Unlike your antisocial bore.” Truthless’s hollow eyes didn’t waver. “Flawed? Or merely… untarnishedby your truth?” he murmured, the words chillingly soft. Sage’s smile returned, bright. “Precisely.” His hand shot out, lightning-fast, grabbing Shadow Milk’s wrist. “Now, where were we?”
Shadow Milk yanked his arm back violently. “Get your hands off me!” Sage’s grip returned just as quickly and tightened like iron bands. “Or what?” he purred, leaning close enough for Shadow Milk to smell the fresh scent of blueberries clinging to his robes. Lucky. He himself always had the more bitter scent. “You’ll flail? Scream?” His free hand traced the curve of Shadow Milk’s hip possessively. “Your Pure Vanilla isn’t here to soothe your tantrums.” Truthless shifted silently, watching closely. His gaze flickered between Sage’s predatory smirk and Shadow Milk’s panicked struggle. A flicker of something—annoyance? Recognition?—passed through those blurry eyes. Sage chuckled, low and smooth. “See? Even he knows you’re mine to dissect.” His thumb pressed against Shadow Milk’s soul jam, sending a jolt of invasive warmth through him. Shadow Milk gasped, knees buckling slightly. Sage’s breath was hot on his ear, thumb pressing into the pupil on his souljam. “Now, about those sensitive parts…”
Truthless stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “Sage, stop.” Sage froze, irritation flashing across his face. Shadow Milk seized the moment, twisting hard. Sage’s grip held firm. Truthless took a single, deliberate step forward. “You tore the veil,” he repeated, high boots scraping on wood. “Again. For this… indulgence.” His gaze swept over Shadow Milk’s trembling form, lingering on where Sage’s hand still gripped his waist. “Your ‘study’ unravels the threads. Fix it, and Send him back.” Sage scoffed, pulling Shadow Milk flush against him. “Indulgence? Hardly. This is vital observation! Look at him—unspoiled, volatile. A perfect counterpoint to your horribly flawed body, as i said before.” He traced Shadow Milk’s jawline. “He tastes like bitter blueberries, too!” Shadow Milk shuddered, revulsion warring with a strange, unwanted thrill. He turned to look at truthless, who stared back through blurry eyes. This wasn’t his Pure Vanilla. This wreck was nothing like the warm, exasperating king he’d just been yelling at. This was decay given form, a chilling reminder of what couldhave been if Pure Vanilla had truly embraced his deceit all those years ago. The dissonance was dizzying. Yet…he couldn’t lie, he did feel a bit aroused.
Shadow Milk yelped when a hand cupped his crouch, a finger pressing down on his hooded clit.
"Hey—!”he yelled, twisting violently. Sage ignored him, licking his lips as he squeezed Shadow Milk's ass. "Fascinating musculature," he murmured, kneading the dough. "Tighter than mine. More reactive too." His other hand slid up Shadow Milk's ribs, thumb brushing the underside of his breast. Shadow Milk shuddered, biting back a gasp. Sage chuckled. "Oh, that's a sensitive spot, isn't it?”
Truthless stared, his expression flat. After a moment, he turned and shuffled to the edge of the bed. He sank onto the rumpled sheets, his stained robes pooling around him like dirty water. His eyes fixed on the corrupted version of sage. He knew arguing was pointless. Sage always won, Always took what he wanted. And when he was bored? He'd send the intruder back. Truthless folded his hands in his lap and waited.
Sage grinned, victorious. His hands slid back to Shadow Milk's chest, squeezing firmly through the thin fabric. "Resistance is futile," he murmured against Shadow Milk's throat, his tongue tracing a wet path along the delicate skin just below his ear. Shadow Milk gasped, his body betraying him as a tremor ran through him. Sage knew exactly where to touch, and it was heavenly. His fingers found Shadow Milk's stiffening nipples, pinching and rolling them. "See?" Sage breathed, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Your body knows its true half. Your little Nilly never gave you what it needed—what you craved. But i’ll give it to you. Maybe even my dear recluse can help~." He bit down lightly on the pulse point, earning a choked whimper.
Shadow Milk opened his mouth to retort, but Sage’s hand came down hard on his ass—a sharp, stinging slap that echoed in the quiet room. Shadow Milk’s head snapped back, a loud, shameless moan tearing from his lips as pleasure-pain radiated through him. He shuddered, knees buckling slightly. Sage caught him easily, turning Shadow milk around so he would be facing where truthless sad, his back against his chest. "Ah, there it is," he purred, landing another sharp smack on the same spot. "Always did love a bit of pain, didn't we? Such a needy little thing." He pressed his hips against Shadow Milk’s backside, grinding firmly against him. "Now, be a good boy and stay still.”
Sage glanced over at Truthless, who hadn't moved from the bed. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes tracked Sage’s hands as they roamed over Shadow Milk’s trembling body. "Join us, Recluse," Sage commanded, though his tone was deceptively light, almost playful. "It’s been ages since you’ve indulged. Don’t you want to see how this one reacts?" He punctuated his words with another rough grope of Shadow Milk’s chest, making him gasp. Truthless raised a brow, his lips twitching in what might have been amusement. After a long pause, he let out a soft sigh and pushed himself off the bed.
Truthless approached slowly, licking his dry lips. He stopped inches from Shadow Milk, who was still pinned against Sage’s chest. His eyes swept over Shadow Milk’s flushed face, then down to where Sage’s hand was now sliding beneath the tight fabric of his suit. Shadow Milk shuddered, trying to twist away, but Sage held him fast. "Look at him," Sage murmured, his breath hot against Shadow Milk’s ear. "So desperate to fight it, but his body betrays him every time." Truthless reached out, his fingers brushing Shadow Milk’s hip. The touch was cold—nothing like the warmth of his own Pure Vanilla. Shadow Milk flinched, a whimper escaping his lips. Even in a moment as this, he couldn't stop comparing the two.
Sage chuckled, low and dark. With a sharp tug, he pulled Shadow Milk’s bottom half of his suit down just enough to expose his thighs. "Hold still," he commanded, one hand gripping Shadow Milk’s waist while the other fumbled with the ties of his own robes. Shadow Milk gasped as Sage freed his hard cock, thick and flushed against his thigh. Sage shoved Shadow Milk’s legs together, pressing them tight. "Perfect," he breathed, positioning himself behind him. He slid his cock between Shadow Milk’s thighs, the head nudging against his entrance . Shadow Milk cried out at the friction on his cunt as Sage began thrusting—slow at first, then faster, the feel rough and demanding. Each stroke sent jolts through Shadow Milk’s body, his own neglected clit throbbing in response.
Truthless stepped closer, adjusting his staff to settle between his underarm. He ignored the rhythmic slap of skin below Shadow Milk’s waist, his eyes fixed on Shadow Milk’s face. he grabbed Shadow Milk’s jaw, forcing it open. Shadow Milk choked, trying to twist away, but Truthless held firm, his grip strong. He tilted Shadow Milk’s head toward the dim light, peering inside his mouth with detached curiosity. "Sharp," Truthless murmured, tracing a finger along Shadow Milk’s pointed teeth. His touch lingered on the slitted tongue, probing the forked tip. "Adapted for venom? Or just... aesthetics?" His voice was a rasp, clinical and devoid of warmth.
Shadow Milk spat out Truthless’s fingers, rolling his eyes with a sneer. "Aesthetics, idiot." His voice dripped with disdain, even as Sage’s thrusts rocked him forward. "Unlike your rotting husk of a body." Truthless didn’t flinch. Instead, he slid his hand down Shadow Milk’s throat, pressing lightly against the fluttering pulse. "Fascinating," he whispered, almost to himself. "No decay. Pure potential." His thumb brushed Shadow Milk’s lower lip, smearing a bead of saliva. "Sage was right. You are unspoiled. Maybe that should be changed.”
Sage smiled as he giggled, his hips snapping harder, grinding Shadow Milk’s clit against his own shaft with each rough stroke. "See, Recluse? Even defiance tastes sweeter on him." He gripped Shadow Milk’s hips tighter, forcing his thighs to clamp down. "Now be useful and make him scream properly." Truthless’s hummed as his eyes flickered to Sage, then back to Shadow Milk’s defiant glare. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his hand. Not to Shadow Milk’s mouth this time, but lower, past the rumpled fabric of his suit, fingers tracing the damp seam of his cunt where Sage’s cock pistoned against it.
Truthless’s touch was slightly gentle—a stark contrast to Sage’s fevered thrusts. He circled Shadow Milk’s swollen clit with a large thumb, pressing just hard enough to make him gasp. "Sensitive," Truthless observed flatly. Then, without warning, he pinched the bud hard between thumb and forefinger. Shadow Milk arched off Sage’s chest with a choked cry, pleasure-pain shooting up his spine. Sage laughed, breathless, his pace turning erratic. "Yes! Just like that!”
Leaning in, Truthless captured Shadow Milk’s open mouth in a harsh kiss. His lips were chapped and cold, tasting of sharp vanilla extract. Shadow Milk tried to twist away, but Truthless held him still, tongue forcing past his teeth. "He never touched you like this, did he?" Truthless rasped against his lips, the words muffled and wet. "Your Pure Vanilla." His fingers curled upwards, pushing one more inside Shadow Milk’s cunt, thrusting his digits deeper. "Too gentle. Too afraid of breaking you." He thrust his fingers harshly, mimicking Sage’s rhythm. "We’re not afraid.”
Sage groaned, his thrusts turning frantic as he rutted against Shadow Milk’s thighs. "Look at him, Truthless," he panted, one hand fisting in Shadow Milk’s hair. "He’s trembling. He loves it." His hips snapped harder, grinding Shadow Milk’s clit against his shaft with bruising force. "Tell him," Sage demanded, breath hot on Shadow Milk’s neck. "Tell him how much better we are.” Truthless broke the kiss, his blurry eyes locking onto Shadow Milk’s dazed ones. "Say it," he urged, his fingers twisting inside him. "Say we treat you better than he ever could.”
Shadow Milk cried out when Sage’s tip, slick with pre, slapped directly onto his clit. He gripped roughly onto Sage’s arms, nails digging deep into his dough as pleasure-pain tore through him. "H-Hah!!Sage—!!" The name ripped from him, raw and involuntary. Sage laughed, triumphant, grinding down harder. "Louder!" he commanded, slamming his hips forward. Truthless leaned in, his lips brushing Shadow Milk’s ear. "Admit it," he whispered, insistent as he nibbled on his earlobe. "Admit you need this.” Shadow Milk shuddered, his body arching as he gasped their names again, the sound ragged and desperate.
He came with a violent sob, thighs clamping tight around Sage’s cock. His cunt clenched rhythmically, squirting hot and wet across Truthless’s fingers still buried deep inside him. The pressure was too much—Sage groaned, low and guttural, his own release spilling hot between Shadow Milk’s trembling thighs. "Fuck—!" Sage gasped, hips jerking erratically as he painted Shadow Milk’s skin white. Truthless watched, expressionless, as Shadow Milk trembled against him, tears streaking down his flushed cheeks, mouth open with a trail of drool falling down his chin. Sage peeks around to look at his expression, and grins widely. Ah, he looked so cute!!
Truthless slowly withdrew his fingers, slick and glistening. He examined them with curiosity before wiping them on Shadow Milk’s chest. Shadow Milk shuddered, his body collapsing against Sage’s chest, spent and trembling. Sage chuckled breathlessly, nuzzling the back of Shadow Milk’s neck. "See?" he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "Was that so terrible?" His hand slid over Shadow Milk’s stomach, fingers tracing the curve of his hip. Shadow Milk didn’t answer, his breaths ragged and shallow. He felt hollowed out, used. And worse—part of him craved more.
Sage pulled away, leaving Shadow Milk swaying on unsteady legs. With brisk, efficient movements, Sage wiped himself clean with a discarded scrap of fabric from the bed. He tucked his softening cock away and smoothed his robes, the predatory gleam in his eyes replaced by detached amusement. "Much better," he declared, clapping his hands together once. "Now then—" He glanced at Truthless, who hadn’t moved. Truthless’s hollow eyes were fixed on Shadow Milk, a flicker of something needy and not very sweet in their depths. Slowly, deliberately, Truthless gathered the hem of his stained robes in both hands. He lifted them to his waist, biting the fabric between his teeth to hold it in place. His cock sprang free—thick, heavy, and fully erect, the head flushed a deep, angry red. It looked obscene against his gaunt frame. He pointed a finger at Shadow Milk’s knees. "Down," he rasped, the word a bit muffled through the fabric.
Sage beamed, stepping behind Shadow Milk. "You heard him, little jester!" he chirped, his hands landing firmly on Shadow Milk’s shoulders. He applied pressure, forcing Shadow Milk down until his knees hit the rough wooden floorboards. Shadow Milk hissed at the impact, his thighs still sticky and sensitive. Sage didn’t let him hesitate. He tangled one hand in Shadow Milk’s hair, fingers tightening near the roots, and used the other to tilt Shadow Milk’s chin up. "Open wide," Sage instructed cheerfully, guiding Shadow Milk’s head forward until his lips brushed the swollen, leaking tip of Truthless’s cock. The scent hit Shadow Milk first—sharp vanilla, yes, but undercut with something stale, like old parchment left in damp stone. Truthless let out a low, guttural sigh as the wet heat of Shadow Milk’s breath touched him, his cock twitching at the feel.
Shadow Milk gagged instinctively as the thick head pressed against his lips. Truthless was huge, easily thicker than Sage, the veins prominent and pulsing. Sage didn’t give him time to adjust. He pushed harder, forcing Shadow Milk’s mouth open wider. "No teeth," Sage warned lightly, his tone pleasant but edged with steel. "Unless you want to find out what happens to pretty toys that bite." Shadow Milk choked as the head breached past his teeth, the taste flooding his mouth—bitter, overwhelmingly vanilla, with a coppery tang beneath it. Truthless groaned, his hips jerking forward slightly, shoving himself deeper. Shadow Milk’s eyes watered as his jaw strained, the stretch burning. Sage chuckled, petting his hair almost soothingly. "There we go! Just relax and take it. He won’t last long anyway.” He hums, smiling at the glare truthless gave him.
Truthless wasted no time. His hands tangled in Shadow Milk’s hair, fingers tightening painfully as he pulled him forward, impaling his mouth fully in one brutal thrust. Shadow Milk’s hands flew up instinctively, gripping Truthless’s thighs for balance as his throat convulsed.
Truthless began to move, his thrusts shallow at first, testing the resistance, then deeper, harder. Each shove forced Shadow Milk’s nose against the blonde curls at the base, the rhythm relentless. Truthless’s breath hitched, low grunts escaping him as he watched Shadow Milk struggle, tears streaming down his cheeks, saliva slicking his chin. Sage watched with fascination, his fingers tracing the bulge in Shadow Milk’s throat with each inward thrust. "Look at him take it," Sage murmured, delighted. "Like he was made for it—which i wouldn’t doubt! Seriously, baking a retired little fount with a pussy? Hilarious!”
Shadow Milk gagged, his vision blurring as Truthless hammered into his mouth. The bitter-salt taste was overwhelming, the stretch of his jaw agonizing. His hands clawed at Truthless’s legs, nails scraping dough, but he couldn’t push away, couldn’t breathe. Truthless’s moans grew louder, ragged and desperate, his hips snapping faster. Shadow Milk’s eyes rolled back, a choked, wet sound vibrating around the cock filling him. Sage leaned down, his lips brushing Shadow Milk’s ear. "That’s it," he whispered, his voice thick with arousal. "Just let him use you. Feel how much he needs this—how much you need it.” Truthless’s thrusts turned erratic, his grip on Shadow Milk’s hair bruising. He threw his head back with a guttural cry, his release flooding Shadow Milk’s throat in hot, bitter pulses. Shadow Milk’s eyes widened as he choked, swallowing convulsively as Truthless held him deep, milking every last drop.
Sage yanked Shadow Milk’s head back the moment Truthless released him. Shadow Milk gasped, coughing, strings of thick cum connecting his lips to Truthless’s softening cock. He slumped forward, trembling, saliva and seed dripping onto the floorboards. Sage beamed, clapping his hands together like a child presented with a prize. "Perfect! Absolutely perfect!" He crouched beside Shadow Milk, ruffling his hair roughly. "Look at you! Taking him like a champion! I knew you had it in you—such a good little toy!" His eyes sparkled with manic delight. "Gold medal performance! Ten out of ten! Honestly, better than I could have hoped for on the first try!" He pinched Shadow Milk’s flushed cheek. "You’re a natural~!”
Shadow Milk scowled, batting away Sage’s hand as he slumped fully onto the floor, rubbing his raw throat. He was so tired. Every muscle ached, his jaw throbbed, and the sticky mess between his legs chafed with every shift. He glared up at Truthless, who was tucking himself away, his expression returning to its hollow detachment. "Rot in the oven," Shadow Milk rasped, his voice wrecked. Truthless merely blinked, adjusting his robes with slow, precise movements. "I already do," he stated flatly, his gaze drifting past Shadow Milk to Sage, who was still beaming and blushing at where Shadow Milk lay. Gods, if only he could keep his little doppelgänger to himself~!
Sage crouched beside Shadow Milk, tilting his head. "Aw, don’t be like that! You did so well~!" He reached out to pat Shadow Milk’s head, but Shadow Milk jerked back, baring his teeth. Sage sighed dramatically, standing. "Fine, fine. Ungrateful little thing." He turned to Truthless, his tone shifting to something more dramatically sad.
“Do we have to give him back?” He pouts, hands on his hips.
Truthless didn’t look at Sage. His eyes fixed on Shadow Milk’s used form. "The fracture won’t hold," he rasped, voice like dry leaves. "His timeline rejects him. He’ll destabilize by dawn." He adjusted his staff, the motion stiff. "Send him back before he unravels us all." Shadow Milk’s breath hitched. Unravel? The word sent a chill through his sore body.
He pushed himself up on shaky arms, glaring between them. "Good," he spat, voice raw. "Anything’s better than this rotten place and you two freaks.”
Sage only pouted further, his lower lip trembling dramatically. He dropped to his knees and yanked Shadow Milk into a crushing embrace, ignoring the flinch and muffled protest. "But you’re perfect!" he whined, nuzzling his cheek against Shadow Milk’s sticky, tear-streaked one. His fingers tangled needily in blue hair. "My little clown~! Why go back to boring Nilly? He doesn’t see you, not like I do." Sage’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, warm breath ghosting over Shadow Milk’s ear. "I’ll find you.In the moments you isolate yourself, or find yourself craving Him. I’ll give you everything he denies you. The attention, the touch... the way you need to be ruined.”
Shadow Milk shoved against Sage’s chest, his voice a raw scrape. "Get off me, you deranged—" Sage clung tighter, cutting him off. "Tut, tut! Shhh! You’ll see!" he chirped, suddenly bright again. "It’ll be our secret! Like a game! I know you love games~!" He pressed a sloppy, lingering kiss to Shadow Milk’s temple before finally releasing him, leaving Shadow Milk cold and sticky on the floorboards. Sage bounced to his feet, turning to Truthless with a dazzling,bright smile. "Fine, fine! Send him back. But remember my promise~!"
Truthless didn't speak. He simply raised his staff, the corrupted wood humming with unstable energy. The air before them tore open like rotten fabric, revealing swirling darkness shot through with jagged streaks of pale light—the unstable portal back to Shadow Milk’s own timeline. Sage winked at Truthless, a silent command. Truthless shuffled forward, his movements stiff, and grasped Shadow Milk’s upper arm. His touch was surprisingly careful as he hauled the exhausted cookie upright. Shadow Milk stumbled, legs trembling, but Truthless held him steady, his expression unreadable as he guided him towards the rippling tear. Humming, Truthless gave Shadow Milk one last, warm kiss on his cheek before setting him on the ground on the other side of the portal. And then, it closed.
Sage beamed, clapping his hands together. "Oh, he was delightful! Absolutely scrumptious~!" He spun towards Truthless, eyes sparkling with mischief. Truthless stood rigid, staff still raised, his expression carefully blank. But Sage wasn't fooled. He saw the faintest upward twitch at the corner of Truthless’s thin, chapped lips. Sage pounced, wrapping his arms around Truthless’s narrow waist. "Admit it! You enjoyed the show!" he chirped, burying his face in Truthless’s neck. Truthless sighed, the sound long-suffering. "Your reckless experiments endanger the fabric of this reality, Sage," he intoned, his voice flat. Yet he made no move to push Sage away. Sage giggled, pressing wet, noisy kisses along Truthless’s jawline. "Liar! You liked watching him squirm~ You liked using him!" Truthless finally looked down at him, his hollow eyes meeting Sage’s bright ones. A slow, reluctant smirk spread across Truthless’s face—a crack in his usual stoicism. "Perhaps," he rasped, the word barely audible. Sage squealed in triumph, smothering Truthless’s smirk with a flurry of kisses.
Pure Vanilla flinched as the air beside him ripped open with a sickening tear. White Lily’s spellbook clattered to the floor, forgotten, as they both stared at the jagged wound in reality. An arm clad in tattered, familiar robes—robes Pure Vanilla hadn’t worn in centuries, robes stained with the same sickly gold as decaying fall leaves—thrust through the rift. It shoved a limp figure onto the polished marble floor of the council chamber before vanishing. The portal snapped shut with a final, discordant hum, leaving only silence and the crumpled form of Shadow Milk Cookie. Pure Vanilla’s breath caught. Shadow Milk was clothed, yes, but his royal blue suit was rumpled and stained with streaks of drying white fluid. His lips were swollen, bruised a deep purple, and angry red marks bloomed like dark flowers across his throat and jaw. He reeked of bitter vanilla and sugary sweet blueberries.
Pure Vanilla was at his side in an instant, his own pristine robes pooling around him as he knelt. "Shadow Milk!" His voice trembled with relief and frantic worry. Gentle hands fluttered over Shadow Milk’s shoulders, his face, not daring to touch the worst of the marks. "By the Witches, what happened? Where were you taken? Who did this to you? Are you injured? Can you speak?" The questions tumbled out, urgent and overlapping, his eyes wide with a frantic need to understand, to fix, to soothe. He scanned the bruises, the sticky residue, the weird blank stare in Shadow Milk’s usually cheeky eyes. "Tell me! Please, Bluebird..”
Shadow Milk didn't flinch. He just lay there on the cold marble, staring up at Pure Vanilla’s frantic, golden gaze. That familiar, suffocating sweetness radiated off him in waves – the gentle concern, the desperate need to heal, the sheer, overwhelming niceness of it all. It scraped against Shadow Milk’s raw nerves like sandpaper. A low, rasping sound escaped his throat, not quite a laugh, not quite a cough. His gaze drifted past Pure Vanilla’s worried face to the vaulted ceiling far above.
Slowly, deliberately, Shadow Milk pushed himself up onto trembling elbows. He ignored Pure Vanilla’s startled gasp, the hovering hands that fluttered uselessly near his shoulders. Instead, he shuffled closer, his movements stiff and aching, until he was leaning heavily against Pure Vanilla’s chest. He tilted his head back, resting it against the soft fabric of Pure Vanilla’s robe, right over his heartbeat. "Shut up, Nilly," he mumbled, his voice a wrecked whisper, thick with exhaustion and something else – resignation, perhaps. He closed his eyes, pressing his face into the comforting, vanilla-scented warmth. Pure Vanilla froze for a heartbeat, stunned by the sudden, uncharacteristic vulnerability. Then, with infinite care, his arms wrapped around Shadow Milk, pulling him fully into his lap, cradling him like something precious and fragile. One large, gentle hand came up to cradle the back of Shadow Milk’s head, fingers threading carefully through the messy blue strands, petting with slow, soothing strokes.
White Lily watched the scene unfold, her initial confusion hardening into a sharp, analytical frown. Her gaze swept over Shadow Milk’s battered form – the bruises, the dried fluids, the haunted blankness in his eyes that had momentarily flickered closed. She saw the way Pure Vanilla held him, radiating protective worry, utterly absorbed. A flicker of distaste crossed her features, quickly masked. This wasn’t her area. This messy, emotional entanglement… it was Pure Vanilla’s weakness, not hers. "Pure Vanilla," she said, her voice crisp and cool, cutting through the heavy silence. "He appears… returned. I have things i need to do, so I will come check on you tomorrow. Have a good night.” She didn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel with a swish of her dress. The heavy council chamber door clicked shut behind her with finality, leaving the two alone in the large room.
As she left, Pure Vanilla only looked down at Shadow Milk , blurry eyes blinking down at the violet marks on his neck. What timeline had he even been thrown into? The implications were clear, and it made him wish he had been smart enough to get him back faster before anything could’ve happened. Damn his inability to learn quicky.
But what truly confused him was the sugary scene of blueberry. Shadow Milk did not have that scent, his was more bitter. So who else was there? The question gnawed at him. He knew Shadow Milk’s scent intimately—sharp, tart blueberries undercut with a hint of something acidic, like unripe fruit. This sweetness clinging to his skin was different. Cloying. Artificial. Like cheap candy left out in the sun.
He could only wonder.