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chromes-corner · 3 years ago

Note

Need requests? I got requests! Lemme hook you up, baby!

You do platonic? If so, think you could do Dark Choco taking in a young reader whom he finds scared and abandoned, and just how he'd keep his newfound child safe from the other Cookies of Darkness? Bonus points if he comforts reader from a nightmare!

Thanks in advance, and remember to take breaks! Don't burn yourself out!

🎶Ohhhhhh anon you make my heart singgggg

Father figure Dark Choco is my everythinggg🎶

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Reformation

Dark Choco & child!Reader

Notes: fluff fluff fluff (SURPRISING HUH??)

Content Warnings: none

A/N: WHY DO MY ONESHOTS KEEP GETTING PROGRESSIVELY LONGER also I edited and posted this on my phone hopefully there aren't any devastating mistakes ✌️

“Who is it, Dark Choco? Who’s at the door?”

The scratchy voice that rings from somewhere behind the door is not enough of a distraction to tear your eyes away from the wall of a cookie before you. His figure nearly takes up the entire dimension of the doorframe. Though you can see the warm tone of lamplight behind him, his bulky build casts a shadow over your likeness. You have to crane your neck up to look into his single ruby eye. He is silently staring you down with a bewildered frown. Both of you are locked in place, not daring to make a move out of fear of how the other might react.

A hooded head pops up from behind one of the cookie wall’s shoulders. It wears a terrible sneer on its face which only contorts wider at the sight of you.

“Oh! Oho! Pomegranate, come look at this!” he calls in a shrill holler.

Another face pokes out from the large cookie’s other shoulder. This one has softer features in contrast to the hardened scowl of the first cookie and the sharp-toothed grin of the second, but her calculating gaze tells you that she’s cut from the same cloth as the others.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” she drawls. “Now, how did you end up here, little one?”

Words clog in your throat and your tongue is dry as bone. You afford a quick glance at the feminine cookie – Pomegranate, if you recall correctly – then pull your attention right back to the hulking barricade of black armor before you.

You could run. Make a break for it while the group awaits your answer. But where would you go? You’ve been trudging through nothing but thick, coniferous forest for hours. The musty scent of pine and earth has practically imbued itself into your very dough. Who knows how long you’d have to wander before you found a settlement or even another occupied house? Not only that, but the sun has begun to set as well. If you were to continue walking, you wouldn’t be able to see your own hand in front of your face in the dark of night, beneath the canopy of the trees. So, hungry and frightened, you remain still as a monument in front of the three curious cookies.

The cloaked figure groans. “Get out of the way, you big oaf! You’re scaring them!”

He gives the large cookie – Dark Choco, was it? – a shove that ultimately leads nowhere. The hooded cookie might as well have been trying to move a mountain. Dark Choco wordlessly steps out of the way on his own after the hooded cookie gives up his unfruitful pushing. Pomegranate tells you to come in, and, giving one last glance and thought to escaping, you step inside.

The interior of the mansion gapes over you, seemingly taller on the inside. You step carefully over the polished linoleum. Its checkerboard pattern stretches the entire length of the floor, connected to dark brown walls lined with intricate arches. Against the far wall sits an empty throne, lined with red gemstones and surrounded by red stained glass windows that casts a bloody shade over the tile. On either side of the throne lie twin staircases, undoubtedly reaching a second floor with much of the same architecture. For a place so meticulously designed, it is very empty and foreboding.

The door slams shut behind you, and you startle. Pomegranate and the cloaked cookie have wandered further into the house and have begun to loudly bicker.

“You’re just gonna let them in? What if they’re a spy, or– or– some sort of distraction?!”

“They’re a child, Licorice.”

Licorice throws his hands up. “So? There might be cookies looking for them! They could lead an entire search party here, and then what?”

“Or,” Pomegranate thoughtfully covers her mouth with a robed hand and gives you a sideways glance, “in the case that nobody comes for them, we could turn them over to our Master. They might be of use to our cause. Red Velvet was about their age when he joined the Master, no?”

The two continue their squabble, showing no signs of acknowledging that you can hear every word they’re saying. You back away from the two, looking upwards and studying the architecture, trying to figure out what was behind each mysteriously closed door. There’s a delicious smell coming from somewhere. If you’re quiet enough, you can surely sneak away and find something to quell your grumbling stomach.

You’re torn from your thoughts when you stumble into a cold, metal blockade. You gasp and whip around, then sheepishly look to the ground when your eyes briefly meet with that piercing red stare. You mumble out an apology. It is the first word you’ve said in a long while.

The large cookie slowly lowers himself to one knee. He is at your eye level now. Despite the jagged scar etched into his left eye, he seems softer than the other two cookies. Behind the tired eye and pallid dough, there is something kind, even if it's just an echo of the past.

“Are you alright?” His voice is a deep, warm rumble. It is a far cry from the scorn of Licorice and the treachery of Pomegranate. There’s something in there that urges you to trust it, so you do. You don’t really have any other choice.

You nod.

“Is there anyone looking for you?” Dark Choco touches his hand to your shoulder. Beneath the chilled armor, his touch is surprisingly warm.

You shake your head in a brusque “no.”

“Where are your parents?”

“I…” The words do not come. They burn your vocals and acid tears threaten to slide down your cheeks. Reliving the same nightmare over and over again has not made it any easier. Your voice wobbles. “I– I don’t… They…”

“I understand,” Dark Choco cuts in with a somber sigh. He pushes himself off the ground and holds his hand out to you. “Come with me. You must be hungry.”

You swallow the rock in your throat and take his hand, giving the other two a final look over your shoulder as Dark Choco leads you away. They aren’t arguing over you anymore. The topic at hand has changed to hurling insults at each other as they quarrel over who the “Master” likes more. Dark Choco does not pay it any mind. This must be a regular occurrence.

You find yourself following the large cookie through an arched doorway. This room isn’t nearly as dimly lit as the main hall. A cocktail of smells hit your senses as you enter what must be the kitchen. There are several islands occupying the space, each with its own sink and variety of cooking utensils. Pots and pans line the wall along with more spices than you even knew existed. Several gas ovens are hard at work, crackling with fire as they cook something that smells absolutely divine. Your stomach tries to grab your attention at this, growling impatiently as Dark Choco lets go of your hand.

Numerous cake servants are rushing around the kitchen. Some are holding plates. Some push carts that are stacked with dishes. Others are washing and chopping vegetables at their stations. Dark Choco speaks with one of them – a rather large one with a tall white hat. You assume that one’s in charge. It barks something to its subordinates, and a small group of cake servants rushes away with a cart in tow.

Dark Choco returns to you and leads you through another door. Your eyes take a moment to re-adjust to the darkness. This new room is occupied by a long, sprawling table lined with a wicked-looking red table cloth, dotted with plates and silverware, and surrounded by many ornate wooden chairs. There is a fireplace at the end of the table, coals alight, behind the largest chair of them all – it looks just like the throne in the other room, you note. Dark Choco pulls out a chair, and you crawl into it. The table is nearly too tall for you, so you have to kneel uncomfortably in the chair in order to see over the fine, dark wood.

It doesn’t take long for the cake servants to reappear. They wheel their cart to your spot at the table, then present you with a large bowl before rushing back to the kitchen. Peering over the bowl, your stomach rejoices at the sight. An entire bowl of ripe, blue jellybeans is at your disposal. You waste no time in grabbing a spoon and digging in.

Beside you, Dark Choco quietly sits as you enjoy the first actual meal you’ve had in days. It’s been a long time since anyone’s actually eaten at this dusty, old table. Most days he and the others are out on missions. If they happened to reside at the mansion, however, they’d simply order meals to be delivered to their rooms. There is no friendship in these four walls. Only a means to an end for the one they serve and a shaky promise to give them what they desire if they help reach that end.

He’d never tell anyone, but a tiny smile forces its way onto his lips at your appetite. It reminds him of himself in his youth, gathered around a table much like this one, seated next to his father, awaiting a great feast to be served. His father would let him have the first pick of the varied dishes. Sometimes, he’d even allow Dark Choco to give a toast to the table, despite how adorably young and naive he was. It is one of the few fond memories he has.

A spark is lit, and something inside of him flickers to life.

—

You wake with a start, heart thumping and breathing wildly out of control. It takes a moment for you to gather your bearings and to remember where you are. You pull the sheets and blankets around your tiny shivering body. Wait, sheets? You look down, then around. You’re in a bed. A huge one. The mattress is firm, but there are dozens of soft, fluffy blankets draped over the edges of the bed. The room is dark and plain. There is no furniture save for a desk, an armor rack, a wardrobe, and the very bed you lie upon. The walls are barren, as is all the furniture. The blinds are pulled over the window, but there is no light filtering in regardless. It must still be night.

The last thing you remember is wolfing down jellybeans in the kitchen. You must have realized your own fatigue after your belly became full, and promptly passed out. There’s more, however. Your heart jumps to your throat. You were dreaming, you recall, but it wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare.

It was the same nightmare you’d been having for days. You’re trapped in that murky forest, running, running, running. The cake wolf’s hot breath fans across your heels. You hear it panting. Growling. You feel it snap at your legs, the same legs that ache for release as you dash through the never-ending woods.

You bury your face in your blankets and stifle a sob, reminding yourself that it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real…

There are muffled voices outside the door. You cover your mouth, tears still flowing freely, and listen.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting attached, Dark Choco.”

“I’m not. Why would it matter, anyway?”

“If the Master doesn’t have a use for them, well… The matter will be out of our hands.”

“I will not let—“

“Who are you to defy her will? You will stand idle while she gives the verdict. Any interjections and I will deal with you myself. Hm, wouldn’t that be fun, seeing your father on his knees again?”

“You’re a coward.”

“And you’re weak.”

There’s a grumble, then the door swings open and you shrink back into the blankets. It closes moments later. You peek over the covers and see a small, flickering light near the desk. Dark Choco sets his lantern down on the wooden surface, and the flame casts a dancing glimmer onto the wall. You sniffle and rub your eyes, still shaken from your dream.

Dark Choco turns to you with the same look of consternation he had held upon first seeing you. The dismay turns to concern in a matter of seconds.

“What happened?” He’s at your side in an instant, bringing the lantern over to the nightstand and kneeling before the bed. The worst of thoughts fills his head. Did she get to you while you slept? There would be no mercy for her, or any of them, if they did something to you. If not for the white-hot rage burning his hands and head, he would have berated himself for such vengeful thoughts.

“I— I had a nightmare,” you sniff, then describe it to him.

The fury dissipates, replaced by something entirely different, but of the same magnitude. It’s not the boil of fury that pounds in the ears; it’s a warm glow that pulses from head to feet. Dark Choco takes a breath. You’re okay. He doesn’t have to crumble anyone tonight.

He stands, then sits on the bed. “I have nightmares too, sometimes.”

Surprised, you stare up at him and say “Really?” You’ve entirely forgotten your distress at his confession.

“Yes, bad ones where I do terrible things to the people I care about.” Dark Choco lets his cloak slide off his back. He wraps it around your shoulders. It's warm and smells like a campfire. “But when I wake, I remember that they’re not real. I’m safe in my bed, and everything is okay.”

It’s been a long time since he’s interacted with children, but he recalls touring the streets and talking to the local youth of his Kingdom. Their innocence inspired him. When they called him a hero, it made his chest swell with pride. Dark Choco had sworn to protect them, and to live up to their idea of him when they told him they wanted to grow up to be just like him. Though that time has long since passed, and though he had failed those children, he sees a new opportunity in you and your doe-like eyes. Maybe he can do right by you. Maybe he can finally make a right in his legacy of wrongs.

Fear forgotten, you yawn. Your eyes become heavy as you sink back into the pillows. “Can you tell me a story?” you ask suddenly.

Dark Choco pauses, attempting to recall the stories his father would tell him. They were all cautionary tales, stories that ended in a lesson. That lesson was most often learned in consequence and tragedy. Tonight, he decides, he will tell a new story.

“There was once a young Prince who went on a great quest to save his Kingdom…”

He gives the story a happy ending.

#cookie run x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #dark choco cookie #dark choco cookie x reader

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