A Beautiful Stranger
A Venti x Reader Oneshot
Reader Female At Birth
Trigger Warnings: None, very fluffy
Feeling flustered and embarrassed, you excused yourself from the table and stepped outside, hoping to catch a breath of fresh air. The cool night breeze did little to calm your rattled nerves, until a voice, melodious and comforting, reached your ears.
"Rough night?" The voice belonged to a waiter from a nearby café. He had a welcoming smile and bright cerulean eyes that seemed to shimmer with kindness. He introduced himself as Venti, the cafe's cheerful and charismatic waiter.
You found yourself pouring out the details of your disastrous date to Venti, who listened with genuine interest and a sprinkle of lighthearted chuckles. His easygoing nature put you at ease, and for the first time that evening, you felt a genuine smile tugging at your lips.
"Tell you what," Venti said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "To make up for your less-than-stellar evening, how about I treat you to some of our finest boba? It's on the house."
You blinked in surprise at his offer, your heart warming at the unexpected kindness. With a grateful nod, you followed Venti back into the cafe. The atmosphere inside was cozy, with soft music playing in the background and the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air.
As you sat down at a table, Venti returned with a tray of colorful boba drinks. He placed one in front of you, a combination of flavors that he assured would lift your spirits. The first sip was a burst of flavor that seemed to chase away the remnants of your bad day, and you couldn't help but let out a contented sigh.
"See?" Venti grinned. "A little boba can work wonders!"
Over boba and laughter, you found yourself engaged in a lively conversation with Venti. He shared stories of his own adventures and experiences, his words painting vivid pictures in your mind. His presence was like a breath of fresh air, a welcome reprieve from the earlier stress.
As the night wore on, you realized that sometimes, a seemingly disastrous evening could lead to unexpected and delightful encounters. You left the cafe with a lighter heart and a promise to return for more boba and stories.
And so, in the midst of the bustling city, your night took an unexpected turn for the better, all thanks to a chance meeting with a charismatic waiter named Venti who had a knack for turning mishaps into cherished memories.
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Cookiekind, in general, seems to hold the strange belief that Shadow Milk Cookie, as the Beast of Deceit, does not understand truth. This is because they have burnt ash for brains, and cannot comprehend that a change in superficial title does not mean that Shadow Milk Cookie is no longer the Master of Knowledge. Even if it did, a deciever can only be effective by understanding the nuance of truth, for the greatest lies are created through its flexibility.
So despite popular opinion, Shadow Milk does recognise, understand and know truth. Well, he knows everything, but especially something as fundamental as that.
Look, here's a truth, right now; Shadow Milk Cookie quite likes Pure Vanilla Cookie, in spite of everything.
Not in the soft, fluffy cotton candy way, of course. Shadow Milk likes Pure Vanilla in the same way a cat likes a mouse, or a researcher likes a test subject, or a puppeteer has a favourite puppet. He likes him because he is a source of entertainment – having such a soft, simple heart makes him fun to watch struggle with silly emotions, and easy to taunt and frazzle. That's all, really. Shadow Milk can't even say he likes him to the point of wanting to crack him open and see what makes him tick, because he doesn't need to. He already knows everything about Pure Vanilla, right down to the composition of the yeast in his body, because he has constantly kept his eyes on him since the start.
It must be said though, if we are to talk in truths, that Shadow Milk may have some biases that make him more invested in Pure Vanilla's continued existence. Namely, the fact that he holds his Soul Jam.
Now, obviously he doesn't like that this little half-cookie, this unworthy, flimsy vessel, holds half his power. On the contrary, it is nothing but an insult to watch him clumsily flaunt it around while Shadow Milk stays unjustly shackled. It is the only transgression Pure Vanilla has ever committed against him, but it is a blasphemous one.
And yet, even with his bubbling rage at the disrespectful theft of his rightful power, Shadow Milk sometimes likes to toy with the idea that he is a gift, a plea for forgiveness from the Witches that he can righteously ignore. After all, Pure Vanilla has his Soul Jam – his, not theirs – and does that not make Pure Vanilla his too?
Naturally, Shadow Milk knows that the Witches are horrible, selfish old tyrants and would not grant him that grace, but that does not change the fact that Pure Vanilla is, for all intents and purposes, his other half. There is something powerful in that knowledge, especially since he knows it would tear Pure Vanilla apart.
So Shadow Milk does like Pure Vanilla quite a lot, even with the full knowledge that he's a dirty little thief, because he is entertaining and, most importantly, he is his.
Now, here is another truth, since we're already on a roll; Shadow Milk Cookie will escape the Seal and get his Soul Jam back.
It's an inevitability, really. Even if Shadow Milk feels like he is absolutely crumbling of boredom stuck in this stupid tree, especially since the rest of the Beasts have one by one drifted into a bitterly restless slumber, they are all far too strong to be contained by a single measly seal forever. The day will come when it gives way beneath the probing of his hands, and with the cracks in the tree nearly large enough for him to stick his fingers through, he knows that day will come much, much sooner than later.
As for what comes after he escapes? Well, Shadow Milk has no concerns there.
The Faerie Cookies may have longer lifespans than average, but sadly that doesn't make them any smarter. It'll be a piece of cake to knead their doughy brains into doing what he wants them to, even with half his power missing. The Guardian is the only one who poses any real threat, and even that has a laughably easy solution, because he certainly isn't immune to crumbling.
Shadow Milk picks at the slim seam of the cracks with hands that are not his own, encouraging them to grow as he takes a moment to fantasise standing over the Guardian's pathetic crumbs.
Speaking of laughably easy solutions, Pure Vanilla is awfully kind to come to Beast-Yeast, right on the cusp of Shadow Milk's escape! Really, Shadow Milk was estatic when he overheard him discussing those travel plans. It saves him the trouble of having to track him down once he's finished freeing his friends and razing the Faeriewoods to the ground.
Even better, having Pure Vanilla around to welcome him back to the free air could prove to be useful. It would be so deliciously poetic, for Pure Vanilla to cut down the tree with his stolen power and set Shadow Milk free with his own hands, offering himself up in a syrupy spotlight to reunite the two lost halves of Knowledge to its true owner.
Shadow Milk could push him into it, he thinks confidently as he twists his claws into the fracture, grappling at the edges to force them wider. He knows Pure Vanilla better than Pure Vanilla knows himself, he is sure. It wouldn't even be hard.
Now, let's review! Shadow Milk Cookie quite likes Pure Vanilla Cookie, that is the first truth. And he will escape the Seal and get his Soul Jam back, that is the second.
These truths coexist, and because they do, Shadow Milk has long decided he won't immediately crumble Pure Vanilla into fine dust when he takes his Soul Jam back.
Oh, he could, and so easily too. Shadow Milk has held Pure Vanilla's hunched form in his palms dozens of times, in the pit of the abyss, has felt how fragile and weak it is – not that Pure Vanilla ever notices, the silly, blind thing. He has curled his claws around his silhouette like a cage countless times, and entertained and irritated himself with how easy it would be to crush him in one fell swoop.
Yes, he could crumble him without a second thought, but that wouldn't be much fun, would it? It's not like he needs to destroy him to be able to retrieve his Soul Jam, and really, it would be a bit of a waste. He's been waiting to meet him – really, truly meet him – for oh so long, to get rid of him immediately would just be anticlimatic. Nobody likes a boring ending, least of all Shadow Milk.
There is a sudden, audible crack, and Shadow Milk's hands finally breach the containment of the bark, fingers quickly scrambling to anchor themselves on the edges of the open wound. An uncontrollable, wild grin splits across Shadow Milk's face, or whatever is currently left of it, wide and eager.
He lurches forward, all of his eyes narrowing in on the wispy traces of light outside, with the exception of the one that always follows Pure Vanilla like a curse, currently watching him settle into an airship with some teeny, insignificant Cookies. Anticipation begins to simmer the endless darkness around him, finally, finally, finally making him feel alive for the first time in far too long.
Somewhere nearby, Silent Salt is slowly beginning to rouse, and Shadow Milk's grin stretches even wider. They don't make a sound and hardly move, but Shadow Milk knew they would be the first to wake. They always are.
Finally, a third truth, to neatly complete the rule of threes; Shadow Milk Cookie is looking forward to properly introducing himself and the other Beasts to Pure Vanilla Cookie.
This one doesn't need any further explanation. After all, there is nothing more thrilling than a good reveal.
The wood groans pitifully beneath his harsh grip, the noise mingling with the distant thrum of an airship in motion, and Shadow Milk's quiet but sharp giggling.
Ah, he can't wait to see Pure Vanilla's face when he realises the true identity of his precious Light of Truth.
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