#implied ships

if i didnt finish this now it would have sat and rotted in my filespace

closeups ->

Pure Vanilla x Reader ; 8556 words

Author sucks at English because it's not their first language. (Pls believe this and save yourselves)

Fluff

Might be ooc idk

I'm warning you...

Wait

The word reverberates like a ringing echo in the mind, but try as he might, it doesn't come out. A soundless dream, a protest to be articulated—even as his throat starts to ache, even as his feet feels as if it's about to give out—his words never seemed to reach her.

And he ran.

Clumsy, unrefined, desperate—the kind where your vision fixes to only one point, yet even so, everything including that—blurs. All to reach the fading figure just so far out of reach from his hands.

“My one and only.. precious…”

.

.

"Don't leave..."

Pure Vanilla shots up in a cold sweat, his hand outreached to nothing but the warmth of air that felt too out of place for his racing heart. He is greeted with the light of the amber sun seeping through the stained glasses and gaps of half-opened curtains, the melodic song of his blueberry birds that await their treats, and the sweet scent of vanilla scones.

He catches wafts of the lilies as well, the lilium candidums he had placed on a vase by his bedside.

Ah, he dreamt of her again.

Pure Vanilla gently dispels the thought away with a shake of his head, and like every morning since that day, picks up the breakfast prepared for him.

Because he knows they’re all worried, he knows she would've been worried, and Pure Vanilla doesn't like being more of a weight on others than he thinks already is.

So he finishes his plate, feeds the blueberry birds, cleans himself up, and dresses himself in his robes—a routine so natural, so memorized, yet so hollow every morning he does it. Even more so these days.

But like always, he manages. He's Pure Vanilla, is he not?

And as he repeats his affirmations, staff in hand as he faces himself at his vanity—a long sigh leaves him, a surrender of exhaustion to come once again from another day of doting.

The moment Pure Vanilla walks out, castle servants in the area greets him, maids passing by acknowledge him with a nod and smile—Pure Vanilla reciprocates the actions with practiced ease, his fatigue veiled like it was merely a ritual he was accustomed to. It continues like that for a while until a curious, concerned cookie crosses his path.

“Ah, uhm, good morning, Pure Vanilla Cookie. Have you slept well?” One of the castle servants queries, offering a small smile to their monarch.

There was this unspoken rule between the Vanillian denizens ever since Pure Vanilla came back from the recent war between Dark Enchantress and the Beast Cookies, when the news of White Lily’s passing swiftly passes from ear to ear—that was to simply give him space and don't let him overwork himself.

It sounds easier than it looks, everyone couldn't help but be a tad overly concerned. Nonetheless, they respected Pure Vanilla’s resolve to keep going. Thus, they tried exerting the same effort for him.

It wasn't always perfect, but they were trying—they only mean well for their compassionate leader.

Pure Vanilla pauses, considering the question before he answers, “not really, to be frank.. but-”

As soon as the little cookie heard, “not really”—panic kicked in.

“My apologies- no, it's only been a week. I'm sorry, that was intrusive, I didn't mean to be all over you..” The little cookie cuts him off skittishly. Their smile wavered to something more rueful before they continued, “can I get you something? perhaps some tea? or are you more in the mood for jelly stew?

He holds off a sigh, “I ate breakfast, if that's what you're concerned about” Pure Vanilla reassured, “really, I'm alright. I just need some time by myself…”

“You don't have to be alone right now, I could-”

“Sugar Apple Cookie” A voice cuts off the castle servant.

Pure vanilla looks off to where the voice came from, and sure enough, there was his assistant. You.

You were his second-in-hand, his appointed assistant after his crowning. Some consider you as an anchor to his never-ending benevolence. He never treats you as an assistant though, to Pure Vanilla, you were treated as if you were simply his beloved companion. You returned the sentiment as well.

“If Pure Vanilla insists he needs some time alone, then let him have it. M'kay?” You coax, placing a hand on the back of the young castle servant, gently guiding them out of the room. “Besides, I recall you have to help out with the laundry department, no?”

“Right, right. My apologies again, hehe. Thank you and have a good day, Pure Vanilla Cookie” Sugar Apple apologizes before scurrying off, leaving only you and Pure vanilla.

He sighs out in relief once the castle servant was out of hearing range, giving you a grateful smile as he slumps slightly onto his staff. “Thank you, I don't know how much more of that I could endure this early in the morning..”

You chuckled, “Anytime, I heard a ruckus and knew you were somehow in trouble”

The playful quip earns a soft laugh in turn from Pure Vanilla, slipping a huff of breath he didn't realize he was holding as his tense dough finally relaxes. “Well, I applaud your instincts. It has saved me more than I can remember.”

“Well, I'd be a lazy excuse for an assistant if I didn't know how you are” You answered with a slight shrug, your usual smile plastered on your face.

Something about hearing those words—talking to you in general—made warmth familiar to him, made his thoughts easier to tune out, and made his smile less rehearsed and more genuine.

Perhaps it was the security of having someone that stood by your side for as long as you could remember. To have someone who has the little things about you memorized, to greet you on heavier days.

Maybe that's why it's somewhat easier around you, despite the turmoil he faces.

“Well, I'd say you know more about me than an assistant could” Pure Vanilla comments, his eyecings lifted barely as his gaze locks at you. “So please, I've told you many times already to stop calling yourself that”

You felt yourself pause at his words, just like you did countless times before when he tells you to call yourself anything more than an assistant. Pure Vanilla has always been known for his amiable nature, it was easy to be swept along his flow—but somehow, with you, there's this fragility.

He lets you get close. He doesn't hide it either, it's the kind of fragility where no matter how many others fill the spaces around him—there’s always one beside him, near him—for you.

Before you know it, your smile softened. Thank the witches for this castle to be always bathed in honey-gold splendor, otherwise you were certain your dough was definitely betraying you with how warm your face has gotten.

“I know, I know, it simply sounds fancier that way y'know” You joked, easing up, “it's nice being reminded of my status from time to time”

“Cheeky, I didn't peg you for someone who cares about titles” Pure Vanilla muses fondly, taking a few steps closer to where you stood.

At that, you tipped your head, brows slightly raised as you mirrored his tone, “Well, your highness, maybe there's a lot to me you've yet to discover”

“Is there something about you I don't already know?” He retorts with deceptive calmness, “since when have you hidden things from me, hmm?”

Just now, you've noticed how close he's gotten. And oh the witches, how you've malfunctioned horribly on the inside.

Pure vanilla does this at times. It's normal. Should be. Always was.

You blink a few times, then as soon as it left, your playful lilt comes back, “Please, even you have things you hide from me.” You shrug, “I only give as much as I take, unfortunately for you”

There was a short period of silence before Pure Vanilla conceded, a resigned smile tugging the corners of his lips as he pulled back. “I suppose you are right, how unlucky for me”

Oh stars.. that was. Something.

…Let's go back to how things normally are.

You raise a hand to your mouth as you clear your throat, offering a polite smile before you speak, “Well then, I'll be off to supervise the castle. You should know that all paperwork has been handled, letters have been sorted out in your study in case you feel like answering them, and at the moment, no scheduled meetings this week.”

A small sigh leaves Pure Vanilla’s lips as he watches you abruptly switch to your sophisticated veneer once more, “There you go again…” he mutters.

Pure Vanilla was always patient, he never lets his forbearance crack unless when the situation calls for it. For whatever reason though, he doesn't want you to leave so quickly.

“..Thank you, [Name Cookie]. You're always looking out for me” He speaks almost wistfully as his hand reaches out for yours. Pure Vanilla laces your fingers together tentatively, his mismatched eyes lowered to the point of contact—he squeezes, the motion nearly imperceptible, silently seeking comfort from that alone.

You sigh and give a gentle squeeze back, “Anytime, Pure vanilla. Take care, alright? I’ll be around the castle whenever you need me”

For a while, you hadn't made any move to leave. Owing it to your awareness that he wants you to stay. He didn't answer, so you stayed with him in silence. It wasn't awkward nor was it tense—but it was heavy in a way where exhaustion had no energy to suppress itself, and intimate in a way where quiet needed no explanations or words to be filled.

You of all cookies knew that Pure Vanilla doesn't lean onto anyone, at least not out loud or completely. So anytime he displays his rare moments of vulnerability, it used to catch you off guard.

However, it was a different story now.

You fall into his rhythm, allowing yourself in his space. It was a shared understanding between two cookies who lingered and stayed.

It seemed like you two were stuck like that for an eternity, but it was never really enough for one of you when needed to be pulled back into reality. Pure Vanilla was the first to step back from the profound exchange, he released your hand carefully. If he's reluctant, he does what he can not to show it. “Best you hurry along now, lest I cause a delay in your duties”

“Nonsense, I'm efficient and I always have time for my friends” You answered with a witty note, lightening the mood as always.

He perks at that, giving you something akin to an impish smile, “Friend, you say?” his staff's eye narrows at you, “and here I thought our relationship was strictly king and assistant only. I wasn't aware of the upgrade”

You huffed, “oh please, don't ruin the moment”

Then, somewhere across the hall, you heard a maid calling out your name.

“Ah, that's my signal”

You imparted a small wave to him, “I'll see you later, Pure Vanilla” you bid as you turned to leave shortly after.

Pure Vanilla watches your retreating figure, “Goodbye, [name]” he mutters gingerly.

In a brief instant, he almost considers taking back what he said about needing to be alone

Though, he dismisses the thought as soon as it came—the weariness that gradually crept back onto his dough suggesting otherwise to the aforementioned notion.

Soon, in his idle ambling, he finds himself passing by the conservatory of white lilies. Pure Vanilla mulls over the idea of going in—to drown in the heady scent of it, just for a moment.

It wouldn't hurt would it? Only for a while…

He could probably let himself have this for now.

So, the room greets him promptly. The pathway recognizes his steps almost immediately—his staff guides him through the lilies as though the ground must've mounted the shape of his presence.

Pure Vanilla finds purchase on the column near the stairway into the pavilion, his back meeting a cold hush as he closes his eyecings.

There's a bittersweet comfort in having sought for what's lost in a place that holds only shared whispers amidst the lilies between him and his dearly departed.

These lilies, he planted himself.

This conservatory, where they both shared memories as if only the two of them existed in the world.

This greenhouse, where she has yet to return, and now may never will.

What could he have done differently? He wondered. Pure Vanilla had been with her the longest yet still remained watching her move forward. He hadn't lied when he said he thought it was beautiful—to have seen her grow, change, and make her mark in cookiekind. Even if that meant he'll never be fully part of that world.

That world, her own bubble. She must've felt lonely.

White Lily was always like that.

A constant puzzle he always pondered was what had he missed? Why couldn't he have understood her sooner?

In all honesty, that was more of a regret he held. He knew what he had missed, knew why he hadn't seen her the way she needed to be seen.

But that did not make grieving her loss any less difficult, it did not make the ache of remorse at least shy away from the very being of his dough.

No matter how many cookies he tried healing for the past week, no matter how much he tried to make up for what he thought were his faults—that contrition remained.

Oh, he misses White Lily, misses her dearly.

He tries not to make much of her loss, convincing himself it had to be that way.

It doesn't work. Pure Vanilla knew White Lily deserved more—deserved to see the fruition of her perseverance and sacrifices for the freedom she paved for cookiekind, deserved to live, truly live, as herself, unburdened and kind.

He knows there is nothing his wishes can do now, that once again, he has to keep going on a path separated from hers.

However, when has it ever been wrong to want?

Pure Vanilla can't help it if his hope was perhaps longed selfishly so.

For that, he apologizes.

chirp

chirp

The interruption to his pensiveness were simply faint chirrups from eager blueberry birds just outside the greenhouse, peering gazes at his resting figure on one of the columns of the pavilion.

Pure Vanilla chuckles warmly at the sight, finally rising to his feet, “I'll be right there, my friends”

Looking around, he notices how the sun was slightly past its peak.

Has he really been there for that long? He feels as if he had just gotten breakfast and chatted with you less than an hour ago.

But the daystar shining radiantly above the Vanilla Kingdom suggested that he has been there for about a couple more hours or so.

He has some spare wafers he can eat along the way, he thinks. That should suffice.

Just like that, his feet carries him away. Pure vanilla doesn't look back, save for a mellow murmur of farewell to the lilies.

Eventually, he finds himself at the palace gardens, distant singing from the Crow’s Nest Inn further down the slope. To his surprise, he finds Black Raisin there, as if she'd been waiting.

The bluebirds that accompanied him flew to the crows, cheerfully circling each other. The sight earns a smile from both cookies.

“I presume you asked them to lead me here?” Pure vanilla asks.

“Yes, you were just the cookie I've been looking for.” Black Raisin answers, extending a small loaf of bread. “Come, we're hosting a game brunch, I was hoping if you would join us?”

He nods with a fond lopsided smile, taking the small loaf, “that would be nice, I'd like to join if you'll have me”

“Of course” Black Raisin returns the smile a bit, beckoning him with a shift of her head as she saunters by his side.

The walk to the Crow's Nest Inn was a tranquil one, Pure vanilla and Black Raisin exchanged a few words and pleasantries then sank to the ease of quiet. It was by the time they arrived at the inn was when the welcoming, familiar ambiance greeted them both. Placidness making way for the harmonic chatter of upbeat cookies.

Two of them were spotted by one of the cookies.

“Black Raisin Cookie! There you are!” Caponata Cookie beams, “and Pure Vanilla Cookie! What a surprise! Are you here to join us?”

“Really? Pure Vanilla cookie is here? We could use a valuable teammate right about now” Butter Pudding Cookie chimes from a table nearby, throwing a quick pleading glance at Pure Vanilla.

“Yes, yes, I’m joining. Let's see what we're dealing with now…”

Pure Vanilla soon came to learn of new, spontaneous games from the cookies around the table. He had to admit, there were creatively fun ones. It took a while for him to get the hang of it, games made on a whim were bound to have rules mixed up and blurred here and there. But the laughter and smiles it brought were what made the whole bonding time worthwhile.

The first few games were chaotic to say the least—one of them involved pairs of partners separated in different groups. Hands tied behind each player as the two partners face each other, a cup filled to the brim with flour in between; buried inside was a gold coin that the players must attempt to bring to surface without moving the cup or using hands, the first group to have achieved the requirement wins.

This ultimately resulted in the pairs having to blow flour at each other's faces, which was the main purpose for the game in all honesty. In the end, Pure Vanilla ended up lightheaded with a full face of flour.

He didn't mind it though, he was having the time of his life surprisingly so.

Another one was a sack race, wherein the players were divided into two groups. The mechanics were simple, the two groups were lined up and players were required to wear a sack reaching their waist—covering their lower half. They had to hop towards the finish line, loop back to their teammates, and the same process repeats until the last cookie in the line finishes their turns, the group to accomplish that would win.

Pure Vanilla, for his old age, wasn't really the fastest in his group. Hopping in a sack was more difficult than it looks while trying to avoid the obstacles laid on the ground. Nonetheless, adrenaline managed to course through him, and by the time he passed the sack to the next teammate, he was watching both teams breathlessly. The corners of his lips tugged upward.

By the time the pleasantly disorganized whimsy had settled down, Pure Vanilla barely noticed time flying by—he was sitting on a small table with Black Raisin, taking a sip from his tea as he watched the other cookies play cards.

Normally, he wasn't usually the type to get himself caught up on things that required tons of his energy. However, he couldn't help but enjoy himself for the first time in a long while.

Black Raisin recognizes it very well. How his dough seemed to relax, how he'd smile just as bright as he did when he was once Healer Cookie playing around with the village kids. It was like he had finally let himself breathe, even this once, and that brought a mix of emotions to her—swell, relief, and a distinct care she held for him.

The two basked in each other's company in silence while Pure Vanilla's gaze, two opposing irises, was pulled to the outside—peering through one of the windows. He had noticed how the sky glows in deep orange and carnation hues, hints of navy seeping through as the stars glint faintly from afar.

A hum slips from his lips as he regards Black Raisin. “It's getting late, is it not?” Pure Vanilla speaks, closing his eyecings. “I've.. had a lot of fun here. Thank you for inviting me over, Black Raisin.”

“Truly” He continues, trailing off momentarily as he chooses his words. “I feel like I'm young again” Pure Vanilla says, chuckling at his own little jest.

Black Raisin sighs, a small upturn played on her lips. “Seriously..” She mumbles, shaking her head. “I'm just glad that you were able to let yourself be, with us”

“..I know” Pure Vanilla acquiesces softly, craning his head slightly to the group of cookies on the other table. “Take a break, I know” He continues, as if reciting a lecture he had heard a handful of times by now.

“... You're doing your best, Pure Vanilla. That matters” she says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Not meant to rush, but to carefully ground her friend.

He reaches to cover her hand with his own, his mouth opening then closing, choosing to let the weight of his touch speak for him—to convey words he couldn't bring himself to say and express what he can't figure out how to disclose.

They understood one another, in a way that ties to years back of meeting by chance in the rubbles of the Vanilla Kingdom after the Dark Flour War. They knew each other from conversations shared between walks when they were just two strangers that happened to slowly connect.

They both found each other when they were lost, and that spoke layers.

Him, in a time where there was nothing left to his name and memories difficult to grasp.

Her, in a time where survival was her greatest ally and foe, with a tribe she considers her family to protect and look after.

The rest between Pure Vanilla and Black Raisin was history after that.

“Let me walk you back, I'd have to listen to an earful from [Name Cookie] if I don't bring you back to them before it gets too dark outside” Black Raisin breaks the silence lightheartedly, but also earnest with her own concern.

That earns a small laugh from Pure Vanilla, nodding a bit as he spoke. “I guess that's sort of true, but I'll be fine, I assure you. [Name Cookie] is quite mindful of that too.”

“Besides, I don't think it's me that currently needs your watchful eyes” He muses, glancing at some of the inebriated cookies that indulged in maybe a little too much berry juice and rum.

His eyecings return to Black Raisin, “I appreciate the offer, but at this moment, they need you more than I do.”

Black Raisin lets out a reconciling huff, bobbing their head a fraction. “.. You're right”

It's not that she has no trust in Pure Vanilla. In fact, trust is what she has fully for him. Black Raisin knows what he's capable of, yet that does not mean she wanted him to face his burdens alone—knowing him, even with how open he's letting himself be now, there's still that discreetly cloaked front he puts on.

She can see that Pure Vanilla is trying to be okay for them and for himself, and that will always be one of his admirable yet sometimes frustrating traits. Black Raisin just wishes she could help him out more.

“You're right.” Black Raisin repeats with a smile this time, more sure.

Pure Vanilla returns the smile with one of his own, “I knew you would-”

He was about to tease her until Butter Pudding Cookie butts into the conversation.

“Y’knoww, I don't mean to interrupt but it's kinda late already. Pure Vanilla Cookie.. you should stay here for the night, don't you think?” Butter Pudding Cookie pipes in from the other table, snacking on a bowl of chips.

Pure Vanilla blinked once, twice, then looked out the window again—Butter Pudding was right, to his surprise, the sun had dipped below the sky while the moon rose from the other side; the stars were more visible now as well.

Oh dear witches.

He was supposed to have his dinner about half an hour ago, and Pure Vanilla did not want nor feel like getting to see what look you had right now.

Has time always been this taunting?

At the realization, he scrambles upright, staff in hand as he starts announcing his departure. “Goodness, I lost track of time. Thank you, my friends, for having me here. I had the best time with you all today, I hope we can do it again sometime.”

It’s not that late—Pure Vanilla begins convincing himself as he waves goodbye to the other cookies, nodding along their well wishes to him.

[Name Cookie] must be wondering where he went… After all, Pure Vanilla hadn't told anyone in the castle he was staying out this long. It's not like he knew he'd be gone for long as well. Technically, it wasn't his fault for getting stringed into unexpected events.

As he turns his back at the other cookies, he releases a long sigh, a slightly nervous smile on his lips.

Well, he'd have to explain himself later.

For now, he lets his feet carry him in whatever pace he pleases, melting into the cool breeze of the evening as the distant light from the town square luminates to where he stood.

“This surely is a long day” Pure Vanilla murmurs to no one but himself, tilting his head towards where the moon rests.

Meanwhile, a few hours back—you had completed your responsibilities of the day and took it upon yourself to try and bake a cake. It was something special you decided a few days ago just for his birthday tomorrow.

You were sure he's still out right now—prior to this day, you had asked Black Raisin to invite him out, to clear his head and so you had time to bake. She agreed, which leads us back to the present.

“Ah, this looks mouthwatering.. just bring the tray to his chambers. I'm certain he'll be back in a while” You instructed the sous chef, Fraisier Cake Cookie.

The tray was simple, it consisted of his usual meals, plated and organized orderly at the center alongside with other delicacies the chefs personally made for him that they thought he would like.

It's never a hefty amount, just enough to keep his stomach full.

You wanted to keep his options open, consistently making sure he is well-looked after. You never pressured him on days he couldn't—or forgot to—take his meals. Instead, you offer a company that does not aim to impose, and gentle encouragement to take a few bites.

Fraisier Cake Cookie smiles, “Thank you [Name Cookie], you always know how to flatter the cooks”

A soft snicker left your lips as you cocked a brow at Fraisier Cake, “That suspiciously sounds like an implication that I do this for food.. but you're right, who knows when one of you decides to let me have a free sample someday?”

They huffed at your jest, “I'll admit that it's working a bit, keep it up and you just might get the opportunity” Fraisier Cake teases back.

“Really? I'll take your word on it” You said, narrowing your gaze at them playfully before pulling back with a long exhale.

“I won't keep you long, Pure Vanilla Cookie may be back at any moment and I need to start baking—if you happen to cross him, don't tell him you saw me ‘kay?” You chuckled, tucking a note under one of the plates before patting Fraisier Cake's shoulder. “Thanks again, I owe you one”

You both exchanged your goodbyes before you start heading to the castle's private kitchen. The way there was a peaceful walk, you felt compelled to breathe in the comforting vanilla scent that clung on the walls as it never failed to ease you.

Hues of the setting sun catch the waffle-patterned tiles through the opened windows as the gentle wind sways the amaranthine banners and wandering mint leaves outside while you walk on the marbled floor.

Later on, you spotted a servant that happened to be passing by. You caught their attention with a wave before you spoke, “Hello there, I just wanted to ask if Pure Vanilla Cookie has returned yet. You haven't seen of him, yes?”

“Ah, Honorable [Name Cookie]. He's still out I believe. No one has yet announced his arrival” The castle servant answers with a polite smile in turn.

Inside, you deflated at the over-the-top title. You can't help but forget you're a king's assistant more often than not.

You waved a dismissive hand, a sheepish smile plastered on your lips. “Please, just [Name Cookie] will be fine, using titles on me makes me feel too out of place, you know? I feel like an old cookie when someone uses them on me”

That made the other giggle, nodding as they spoke. “Of course, of course, I can see it does”

“Well, thank you, by the way” You waved, “I would love to chat longer but I do have elsewhere to be, so I'll see you around”

“No worries, I'll go ahead too” The servant returns the wave with a small smile. You both head along right after.

Eventually, you finally reached the private culinary area—tucked just below the left wing, and a room down the main kitchen. You asked Fraisier Cake in advance to send word to the head chef if you could bake here because you wanted your little cake idea to be an unanticipated gift.

You got the green light from the head chef, Creme Sundae Cookie, who became one of your closest friends in the castle long ago. That was because you always frequented the kitchens back then to monitor Pure Vanilla's food.

So now, here you were. By the time you were at the private kitchen, it was evening. You wondered if Pure Vanilla was still spending time with the others, walking back, or already at the castle grounds.

Creme Sundae Cookie, who was idling by—greets you with a lazy smile, beckoning you over to her station. “Yo, [Name Cookie], heard you felt like stirring a mess in my kitchen to make a cake for Pure Vanilla Cookie, right?”

“Now, I wouldn't say I'd make a mess...” You sauntered over, fidgeting with a stray lock of your hair as you gave Creme Sundae a shamelessly confident yet unsure grin. “Can't a cookie practice and learn? Besides, I have you to watch over me”

“I believe I signed up to be a cook and not your babysitter” Creme Sundae teases, passing you an apron which you take.

“I'm the king's assistant, mind you. I'm perfectly capable of baking a cake. Plus, I had some experience back then” You retorted with a huff.

“They all say that” Creme Sundae counters, “the next thing you know, you've made a terrible concoction than a decent dessert”

“That isn't helping me y'know..” You sighed

“Oh relax, I was just being a menace. I trust you won't burn down my kitchen at least” She relented, settling somewhere on the corner to lounge nearby. “I won't distract ‘ya. Just holler if you need me”

“Thanks Creme” You answered with a small chuckle, donning the apron.

You had planned to do a simple Hazelnut Vanilla Cake, nothing too difficult, just time-consuming. You take a long inhale before you pour your complete focus.

Earlier, Creme Sundae took the courtesy of prepping the tools and the main ingredients on making a basic cake for you. Which made things a little easier considering it didn't seem like time was on anyone's side.

And so, you got to work.

By hour two, you have just finished making your buttercream that you had set aside, and your cake layers—sliding them into the oven to bake; these need time so the vanilla would infuse. You have now proceeded into making the frosting, which in your humble opinion, was probably the easiest to do. Creme Sundae remarks at the side that it must be beginner's luck and to be cautious either way, as there was a certain texture your frosting should attain. Still, you almost felt proud of yourself if it weren't for the fact you heard cookies calling Pure Vanilla’s name from outside.

This admittedly made you glance at the wall clock more.

By the fourth hour, and may the stars forgive you for being as slow as jelly slugs—you were in the middle of assembling and decorating your cake.

“Do you think he'd like this?” You ask Creme Sundae, who was watching you intently by the opposite counter.

“Dear, if you asked me I'd say you've done spectacularly well for a beginner. Honestly I sorta underestimated you and feared for the worst. It's not bad but it could definitely use some improvements. But hey, to any regular cookie this would taste amazing, believe me” She praised, licking the leftover buttercream from an empty bowl.

Creme Sundae hums in approval, “Besides, it's the thought that counts, no?” She pointed out while you piped the frosting onto the edges of the cake, subtle, little heart shapes that would be barely noticeable unless a certain cookie receiving the cake overthought about it.

“I guess you're right” You concede, fixing up the details here and there before working on your message and toppings on the uppermost layer.

It was quiet for a while… until Creme Sundae decided it was the best time to ask, “Why do you want to give this to him at exactly midnight though?”

There, you almost choked at nothing, flinching just briefly—and luckily that had not affected your cake, otherwise you'd be at her throat for it. Though she, on the other hand, found your reaction hilarious. Creme’s efforts of muffling her laughter was as feeble as light, bursting into a cackle.

“Oh come on, it wasn't even that funny” You grumbled, shooting her a glare. You tried, with all your will, to ignore the heat that crept at the back of your neck.

“Dear, you should've seen that face of yours” Creme Sundae speaks between laughs, “It's cute when you're flustered”

“I am not.”

“Don't deny it, [Name Cookie]. You want to be the first one to greet him, don't you?”

“...”

“I'll take that silence as a yes, dear.” Creme Sundae muses playfully, her grin almost cheshire-like at you being stunned to speechlessness.

“I hate you” You groaned, finishing up the last of your refining—preparing to freeze your Hazelnut Vanilla Cake for an hour.

“No you don't. And for your information, you didn't deny it—so I'm speaking the facts for you” Creme Sundae says as she approaches your counter, giving you a wink. “Now help me clean this up or you're never using my kitchen ever again”

.

.

Time passes and it's 20 minutes before midnight. You carried with you the cake you had baked for Pure Vanilla, it was already sliced in equal parts to save him the trouble. A candle was lit on the top, the warmth reaching you faintly. At this hour, peaceful serenity blankets the Vanilla Kingdom. Most of the residents in the castle have fallen into slumber by this time of night, even the bluebirds stilled and laid rest shrouded by the mint leaves.

To be awake at this dead of night meant to witness its balming atmosphere—to hear whispers of nature that you wouldn't notice at the clamor of the bustling day, to accompany the moon with her delicate gaze, and watch the stars weave stories lost in time.

As you were just lost in your thoughts, a sharp yelp perturbed the carefully built calmness the night had fostered. “[Name Cookie]! There you are!”

The cookie, an unknowing young maid, runs up to you. “Pure Vanilla Cookie and I have been looking for you! He was so disappointed when we didn't find you afterwards..”

You hushed the maid, and they straightened immediately. Their eyes landing on the cake that you held, and soon enough, the gears started turning in their head.

“Ah” they speak, a whisper now, like a shy apology as soon as everything has clicked in place.

“Now that I see this, you must hear this, [Name Cookie]!” The maid beams, still keeping a hushed voice but barely containing it like a child that just had a sugar rush.

It all started 6 hours back…

Pure Vanilla had just arrived at the castle grounds, greeting anycookie that went up to him and ones that he'd simply come across with. When he finally reaches his chambers, he sees his dinner at the tabletop—warmth still preserved, then, the eye of his staff catches the note tucked on one of the plates. He reads it out:

“Did you have fun out? Don't forget to eat dinner <3.. rest lots too! I'll check on you later.”

— Your loyal assistant, [name]

He smiles, setting the note down as he acquiesces. “Alright, alright..” Pure Vanilla mumbles to himself, taking a bowl of the first thing he deems appetizing.

Soon enough, he finds that he finishes almost the entirety of his tray.

And he waits.

And wait…

He seems oddly eager to see you. He doesn't even know the reason as well. But he just found it strange that you weren't there to greet him at his return, weren't there to ask about his day, and weren't there to share stories with.

As time went on, it's been about 4 hours since he finished his dinner—Pure Vanilla had picked up a journal and written down what occurred for today. He had even gone to feed his bluebirds extra treats.

If you'd accused him of being restless, he would mayhaps deny it.

However, the game brunch with the cookies back at the Crow’s Nest Inn drained most of his energy and he found it quite difficult to stay up.

So, he took it upon himself to look for you himself. If you won't come to him, what's stopping him from seeking you out on his own? It's not like he had anything important to do.

He searched for you everywhere he could think of, at least places he knew you would hang around. Your room, the garden, servants quarters, even his study—nothing, no sign of you. Pure Vanilla even went out of his way to inquire your whereabouts, yet he'd receive the same answer every time: “I don't know, I haven't seen them either.”

He was close to losing hope, until a young maid said: “Oh? [Name Cookie]? I thought I saw them going to the kitchen some time ago”

And so, the young maid joins him at his quest of finding you.

Lady luck had been at your side today, because Fraisier Cake Cookie, who was nearby the main kitchen, spotted the two making their way towards it—and they figured that the two cookies would sooner or later check on the private culinary area as well. So Fraisier took it upon themselves to intervene.

“Ah, Pure Vanilla Cookie, you're back.” Fraisier Cake Cookie steps just right into their peripheral view, making both Pure Vanilla and the young maid stop their tracks. “It's quite late, do you perhaps need anything?”

“Ah, Fraisier Cake Cookie.” Pure Vanilla greets with his usual smile, “It's nice to see you again. And yes, I suppose you can say that.. I'm looking for [Name Cookie], have you seen them? You two are rather close after all.”

Fraisier frowns, shaking their head. “[Name Cookie]? No, I'm sorry, we were just catching up about an hour ago at the kitchen, but they've already left by now”

Fraisier Cake feels guilty about lying to Pure Vanilla of all cookies… but anything in the name of friendship, right?

Pure Vanilla sighs, “Is that so? Have they mentioned anywhere they'd be?”

Fraisier Cake shakes their head, and Pure Vanilla's smile falters ever so slightly. “I see, well, thank you for telling me. I suppose we should look elsewhere then. Have a good night, Fraisier Cake Cookie.”

“Good night too, Pure Vanilla Cookie.” Fraisier bids with a wave. “You seriously owe me for this, [Name Cookie].”—Fraisier monologues in their head, heaving a sigh.

The search continued for another hour until Pure Vanilla had given up, retiring back to his chambers.

Which brings us to the now…

“Seriously?” You question, taken aback from it all. “You should've just told him to rest, y'know”

“Most of us did, but he wasn't budging until he'd find you” The maid answers with a weak chuckle.

“Seriously???” You repeated, slumping a bit, “that stubborn old fool.. I swear I'm going to-”

You came to an abrupt stop, suddenly aware of how much time you've wasted already. “Crumbs-! uh, thank you for that, but I really have to go now, Good night!” You didn't wait for a reply, already rushing towards Pure Vanilla's quarters.

You had about 10 minutes to get there, and it wasn't convenient that his room was a multitude of stairs up...

When you did reach his room, you had about 4 minutes left on the clock. You take a moment to even out your breathing and relit the candle—it’s not surprising that it went out while you were scurrying your way over here.

Okay. This is it.

It only took a couple of raps for the other side to show signs of movement, an indistinct shuffle of fabric there, a slight creak of the door—and there, a stunned Pure Vanilla that looked like he had not yet slept.

The grandfather clock rods distantly, signaling the start of a new day.

“Happy birthday, Pure Vanilla Cookie.”

To say that Pure Vanilla was merely speechless would be an understatement—his eyecings were wide as though the thought of sleep had entirely vanished, he trembled, as if a weight came crashing just now.

He looked at you, really, really looked, his mismatched eyes almost glossy at the glow of the flame. It took a while for him to find his words.

“Where have you been?”

It was the first thing he could bring himself to say.

The way Pure Vanilla asks it, longingly, voice cracking partly as he reaches for you—hands weakly circling your wrists as he guides you inside gingerly. “.. You didn't have to-”

You sighed, nudging the cake softly to him.

“Shut up and eat the cake already, I worked hard on it” You cut him off bluntly, a warm smile on your lips. “It’s Hazelnut Vanilla, hope it's to your liking”

You hand him the plate of cake, he takes it, studying it through the dimly lit room—he had only one small lamp on, while most of his chamber was illuminated by the silvery glow of the moon spilling through the curtains.

After a while, he asks, “You made this?”

The question was not necessary though, he knew your penmanship from the back of his mind—he recognized the message on this cake was made by your own hands in an instant. Nevertheless, he queries, perhaps to hear the confirmation from you.

“Is it really that unbelievable?” You huffed out a small laugh, sauntering over to a nearby chaise lounge. “Yes, I made it for you. I'm sure I already said this.”

“No- I just.. well, this is new” Pure Vanilla says, taking a seat beside you, giving you a look as if to ascertain something.

He expected the usual from you, a letter and a practical tool—you did have a knack for words and keeping in mind the things he needed.

“I know” You shrugged, “I just figured… I wanted to try something new”

In all truth, you found it strangely intimate to make something beyond what you're familiar with. Not that you minded intimate—it's only that, with Pure Vanilla, you felt as if a tug of war was going on between formality and vulnerability.

“...” He was quiet for a while, contemplative. “You didn't do this because of-”

You felt his hesitation before he could voice it, “No, none of that, I just wanted you to have this. I just wanted to surprise you. Not because you're going through something, not because of pity—I have done this because I wanted to.”

Pure Vanilla's heterochromic eyecings fix on you, then he concedes, picking up the fork stubbed between one of the toppings—probably placed there specifically for aesthetic purposes, or something you just did on impulse.

He relishes the hazelnuts, the toasted flavors with aromatic vanilla popping on his tongue—the flavors coated his mouth in a symphony of different taste. He doesn't fill the quiet at the moment, simply eating the cake with the eyes of child-like wonder that discovered something new. At times, a pleased hum slips mid-chew.

“This is good” Pure Vanilla, at last, says, mouth half-filled with cake.

You chuckled, pointing at the side of his face. “I'm sure you've eaten better cakes, also, don't talk with food in your mouth” You were this close, just almost tempted to poke his cheek. Although you had to push the idea aside anyway.

Pure Vanilla gave you a dissenting look, his smile a tired one. “You're quite the handful,” he comments.

“Here” he says, scooting closer to you as he pushes the fork to your lips. “You should try your own work and see what I mean.”

This made you dumbfounded, but you found it impossible not to find his actions endearing. “I baked this for you, Pure Vanilla.” You answer, lightly pushing his hand back. “And I already ate some of it while bakin-”

Pure Vanilla doesn't buy any of it and shoves the fork back insistently, a coy smile playing on his lips as he tilts his head slightly.

“Please?”

“...”

He repeats the motion, waiting with that smile of his.

“.. fine” You caved, taking a bite.

Creme Sundae was right, to any average cookie, this would taste lovely. It tastes like any well-made Hazelnut Vanilla Cake. Nothing too great, but thankfully it's not horrible either.

You pull yourself back from the fork, thinking to yourself that you have now rightfully earned your bragging privileges—maybe you should part-time as a chef. Really, you were elated that it wasn't as bad as you figured it might be.

“Mmn..” You hummed in satisfaction, “Okay, it is good. I'm relieved it tastes like a normal Hazelnut Vanilla Cake and nothing out of the ordinary.”

He chuckles, taking another slice for himself, his fork lingering on his lips a breath longer than necessary before he speaks. “You put yourself down way too much, have some faith in yourself.”

“Hey, I-”

“On top of that, you don't get it, do you?” He added, taking his time savoring each bite, deliberating.

“It tastes good; not only from how meticulously it was made, but also from the candor you've put into your work. To you, it might be an ordinary cake—but to me, it could just as well come straight from the heart”

You took a moment to regard his words, “.. Of course you'd say that” you remarked with a fond smile.

In the stillness, you pondered your own words for a second, feeling your heart pulsing a fraction more than it should.

… You felt yourself decide before you could have second thoughts about it.

He needs to know.

“It ought to be yours,” you continued slowly. “.. What I mean is, to love and be loved, to be cared for the same way you do for others, and to be seen just as much as others ask to be noticed.”

He deserves to know.

“I made the cake with those in mind..” You confessed, meeting his gaze. “Perhaps, I wanted you to know that I am one of the few cookies that cherishes you.. and be someone you can run to.”

You averted your gaze, feeling the weight of your revelation—cherish felt too strong, it made you a shy embarrassed, but what else could be fitting for what you held? Shortly, you wondered if it plausibly felt too much.

You hoped he understood the meaning your words actually carried: A cookie that treasures others above himself should allow himself to be treasured in turn.

Pure Vanilla Cookie had not spoken up even as the quiet had settled between the both of you, it was as though he was still caught up in the cadence of your words, genuinely caught off guard.

Oh no…

Quick, think fast, how in the witches oven can you make this feel less awkward??

“.. Can I have another piece of that cake?” You blurted out, eyes fixed on the half-finished cake.

Your composure was fracturing and crashing down horrendously.

Wait.. did that sound wrong too..?

“Crumbs-! I didn't mean-” You stumbled on your words, trying to salvage yourself.

Your jumbled stupor was interrupted by a soft, astonished snort. “[Name Cookie]...” Pure Vanilla speaks, stifling back a laugh.

“Thank you, [Name Cookie].” He continues, a small laugh slipping from his lips anyway.

Pure Vanilla sets his plate down on a round table that was situated in front of where you both sat. He reaches for your hands, taking one on his own. “I wasn't aware that's how you thought about me, even more that anycookie would.”

“But you're not just anyone, are you?” He whispers, as if pulling you back into a world reserved for you two.

“You're [Name Cookie],” he starts, tugging your hand closer to his chest. “The one who has stuck by me during the Vanilla Kingdom’s restoration, the one who kept a careful eye on me whenever I tend to forget myself.”

He trails off, pressing your palm just below his soul jam brooch—and right exactly at the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heart. “The one who keeps seeing me for me, and not for the gem I hold.”

Pure Vanilla kept your hand there before slowly lifting it to his face—it hung in the air for a minute, like he was debating whether to go through with something inevitable.

His eyecings flutter shut as he closes the distance—pressing a chaste kiss onto your palm. “[Name Cookie], the one that tries to understand my loneliness, and cradles it anyway.”

This time, it was you who were at a loss for words.

“You see it, don't you?” He carries on, mumbling into your hand, warmth creeping up his face.

“Tell me you see me”

Please—he leaves unsaid.

The moment was too fragile.

Too precious.

“.. I see you” You manage to find your voice, all softened at the edges, raw underneath. “I see the you I know, at least.”

“And I want to learn so much more about you.” You muttered, tentatively cupping the side of his face.

This was scary.

And yet, exhilarating.

Here, in the hush of his chambers and half-finished cake, the moon watches two cookies dare cross a line that went past the bounds of the assistant-king relationship.

“Now blow your candles and make your wish, silly.” You spoke up after a while, brushing off the speck of crumbs on the corner of his lips with a swipe of your thumb.

Right, he did forgot to blow out his candles.

He chuckles softly, leaning into your touch, "I wish for more moments like this with you"

You rolled your eyes fondly, "that's not how this works.."

That night, Pure Vanilla couldn't help but think it felt selfish to ask for another wish when he already had one made true the second you returned his touch.

It was real.

And it was everything he could ask for.

A/N:

AHHHH HOLY CRAP IM DONE... FINALLY.. LMAO bro this is so late but I procrastinated this I'm so sorry 😭😭😭 I decided to explore PV's character and his relationship with other cookies a bit.. if y'all couldn't tell. I HOPE IT'S NOT TOO OOC Y'ALL.. 💔

And I wonder if y'all caught the subtle flirting(?) lmao 😭 For me, pv is the type of character that doesn't know he's flustering someone and has this natural charm to him—he only knows he's flustering someone when he's deliberately/purposely doing so... does that make sense....

yes, this had implied platonic/romantic purelily and implied platonic/romantic pureraisin

Hope the pacing was alr HAHAHHA i decided I needed this out before the timekeeper update releases HAVE YALL SEEN THE LIVESTREAM YET AUGH IM SO HYPED BRO LIKE WHAT ARE THE ODDS WHITE LILY MIGHT BE ALIVE when I saw it I was like "crap, I need to finish this" 😭

Shadow milk's form highkey fine.. hear me out... AND IM SCARED FOR THE NEW UPDATE BRO...

Saw book cover (censored under cut) and NEEDED to make it duckie boy. Harvest is good this year?

You got your 🎶🌹📻 and 🎸 nice and ripe and if you tap on em them sound ready to eat?

This metaphor got away from me lmao.

I have no idea the context but giant farmer Luci made me laugh so here we are.

oughhh happy new year in 10 minutes chat

the guys (((o(*°▽°*)o)))

Read on AO3

Let's take a field trip to Little Sundari!

I actually started writing this almost immediately after I finished the first chapter. Then it grew too large and turned into "The Process of Acquiring a Padawan," a separate fic entirely, and only now have I finished The Depa Section.

I also haven't finished anything I actually like in months so I'm pretty happy to have completed something I actually care about.

A Child's Ink: First Chapter, Series: Anakin and the Jedi Babies

--

Depa’s first encounter with Ylliben Skywalker’s habit of collecting meaningful tattoos comes well before she is introduced to his true past, and even before she starts settling into the knowledge that her own figure is as Jedi Master. He is just an Initiate that she happens to spend sometime with. He is a friend, albeit a much younger one.

His father broaches the subject, first.

“Knight Billaba,” he greets, approaching her in the refectory. “I’m glad I could find you. May I sit?”

She gestures at the empty chair across the small table. “Of course. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Actually, yes,” he says. His smile is almost apologetic. “I may need a favor.”

“I’m listening,” Depa says.