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bbstastycake · 6 months ago

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here we go again.

pt. 2

you wince at the low breath you accidentally allowed to escape you as a group of guys approached you and your friends’ table. you prayed it wasn’t heard, but by the way a few of them glanced toward you, it was and judging by looks on their faces, it was the first time they were noticing you in the thirty minutes that they had been eyeing your group.

“…yeah and if you want, we could get you into vip,” one of the guys say loud enough for you to barely catch, causing you to come out of your thoughts. hearing that, you slightly perk up with the hope of being able to at least drink for free while your friends are finding their… escapade for the night.

you look around your table and see your friends grins and their excitement for the prospect of being invited into the most exclusive section of the hottest club of the year. you giggle at their elation before looking back at the group of boys.

“yeah, we all get a plus one so let’s go,” another says, the slurring of his words making it obvious that he’s had more than his fair share of drinks.

he’s definitely not it.

your friends move to couple up while you stay seated waiting for them to leave you with their last pick, not in the mood to experience rejection. you watch and wait, finding the ice at the bottom of your glass far more interesting than anything going on around you at the moment. you move your straw to the left, then to the right watching the ice melt into the liquor.

slowly, you look up in search of whoever you were so lucky to have been left with.

shit, the drunkie. fucking perfect.

you make eye contact with him sending a soft smile his way.

well, there’s nothing that says i gotta fuck him. just gotta act like i will.

you prepare yourself to approach him, fully prepared to drown him out with alcohol once you got to the club, when you see it. you see the realization set in. the realization that you were the last of the girls in the group. the realization that he was forced to couple with you.

here we go again.

you watch in disappointment and disgust, but not surprise as he searches frantically among the girls in your group for someone else, anyone else … who didn’t look like you. you don’t even attempt to make your way towards him, opting to instead head the opposite way towards the bar, but not before feeling someone grab onto your arm.

“hey, love! what’s up? where you going?” you relax into your friend’s hold and force yourself to look happy.

“yeah, i’m actually not up for it tonight, babe. i’m sorry! don’t worry about me though! i’m just grabbing a drink for the road, so go have fun !” you give her the best smile you could muster seeing that you obviously didn’t convince her. she gives you a worried look before you widen your smile.

“listen! i’m fine, i promise,” you say in another attempt to convince her. “…and you have my location! now stop worrying about me and GO! have fun ! text me , okay? let everyone know i’m fine.”

you give her hand a squeeze and watch her give in, the wine she had with dinner making it easier for her to let you go.

“i don’t like this but… if that’s what you want then okay. you have to text me when you get home… ‘kay?” you nod, taking your lip between your teeth.

you watch as she goes back toward the girls you came with and you mouth your goodbyes before turning around and allowing your smile to drop. you get to the bar and throw back a last shot before strutting your way out of the restaurant, failing to notice how dark it’s become.

as you stand on the sidewalk outside of the building in your skimpy outfit, you can’t help but to feel like an idiot.

what the fuck was i thinking?

you let out a bitter laugh at yourself.

“what’s so funny, sweetheart?” you freeze as the smell of booze overwhelms your senses. your body tenses as you feel the warmth of a large figure creep dangerously close behind you. you ignore the man, hoping he would take the hint and go away. you feel a hand placed on your waist. the blood drains from your face as you try to build up the courage to speak.

here we go again.

“hmm? i said what’s a pretty girl like you doing laughing outside all alone?” your body is stiff with fear as you feel the weight of his hand on your body increase. you clear your throat and struggle to keep your voice from shaking. “i asked you a question, sweetheart. it’s rude not to speak when spoken to,” you feel his grip tightening more. “you don’t wanna be rude, do you, doll?”

“please don’t touch me,” you say weakly as your heart pounds.

“hmm? what’s that? don’t be like that. i’m just tryna have a little fun. isn’t that something a girl like you is into?”tears threaten to fall from the edge of your eyes and your mind races, the alcohol dulling your senses. you begin to claw at his hands, attempting to remove them.

“fuck are you doing, asshole?” you flinch at a voice directed toward you, but you don’t dare look up. the man behind steps back.

“what? man, get out of here. this has nothing to do with yo-” the abrupt stop causes you to glance up for the first time and get a good look at the men above you. the man behind you had a muscular build. his grey t-shirt struggled to contain the strength that bulged out of his arms. the chain that rested on his chest seemed like a thread in comparison to the pecs it was nestled between.

he could bash your head in if he wanted to.

you looked to your right at the other guy who wasn’t nearly as muscular, his look far more sleek with a half open silk t-shirt and a messy half up-half down that rested on each of his shoulders. his dead eyes drifted to you before resting back onto the man behind you. “you wanna finish that sentence or do you wanna live?”

his eyes pierce into him and you slowly turn to focus on his face. even with the obvious size difference, the larger male trembled under his gaze. the tall, slender man looked down at the cowering man with disgust as he held his hand out towards you. you quickly take it and stand by him, eyes cast down.

the shorter, muscular man doles out an apology and rushes away, leaving you with-

“eren,” he says now putting his focus on you. “nice to meet you. can i get you a drink?” you look up in shock at the situation, wondering why he made such a quick getaway. you realize you were still trembling and as though he read your mind, the man (who you now knew as eren) wrapped you in his coat and draped his arm around you, surrounding you in his scent and as a result.

“you don’t have to do that,” you muttered, already embarrassed about the whole ordeal and about the fact that you needed to be saved by a stranger. “i really appreciate your help and everything but i’m okay now and i already called an uber so you don’t have to.” your head dips down in appreciation.

“i know,” he says. “i know i don’t have to do anything, but who said i didn’t want to?” he walks over and holds the door to the restaurant open.

“so? what you think lil mama? you in?” he awaits your response with a smirk.

***

“and theeeennnnn he looks at me like i was some dog shit at the bottom of his fucking shoe! like bitch PLEASE !” you’re a couple drinks in and already rambling about the night’s events. you open your mouth to continue and gasp, clasping your hand over your mouth before you can let another word out.

you turn to the side and feel your face heat up as you realize that you were rambling like an idiot to a man you didn’t know.

“i am so sorry!” you say, obviously embarrassed. you scold yourself in your mind as you lower your head in apology. eren bursts out into laughter as more blood rushes to your face.

“don’t be, you’re cute,” he says waving the bartender down for another drink for you.

“you tryna get me drunk?” you raise your eyebrow feigning suspicion.

“as long as it’ll keep you talkin’. ”he smiles at you. he smiles as if he’s known you forever, and for a split second you forget the circumstances of how you met. you forget that he, a rather lean man with a pair of the coldest eyes you’ve ever seen, chased off a man that could have snapped both yours and his arms clean in half without a second thought, and he did it with nothing but a look. you forget that the name eren sounds familiar. he smiles, and for a split second, you forget that you have horrible taste in men.

here we go the FUCK again.

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harperskele · 22 days ago

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Twenty Years

@cheerchy's prize for winning my scavenger hunt event! Enjoy!

As every work of mine is, this was beta read by the fabulous @mysteriahatya!

WARNING: Contains blood(jam) and violence.

“My darling, what’s the matter? Why do you look so forlorn?” Pure Vanilla asks, reaching out to hold his son’s shoulder. The young prince strikes his hand away with a gloved fist, scoffing.

“Do not touch me, healer,” Dark Choco sneers, storming past him and through the Citadel gates. The guards watch them in shock while Pure Vanilla frantically rushes after his son. His entire body screams at him to run, to get away from whatever darkness is shrouding his boy, but he can’t. He has to help him.

“Choco, please! Wait!” He hollers, chasing him through the halls as the boy stalks towards the throne room. “What’s wrong? Please, talk to me.”

“I said, leave me be!” Dark Choco shouts, whipping around and glaring at him. He shrinks back, eyes widening. His son has never behaved like this before. Ever. He searches the boy’s face for any sign of remorse or shock at his own temper, but he finds nothing but contempt in those ruby eyes. Servants who were once busy around them trickle away, leaving the two of them alone.

A shiver runs up his spine when his son rests his hand over a black sword pommel, stark against the white of his tunic. It’s a threat, and he knows it, but he presses on. “You know very well I can’t do that. You’re my son, Dark Choco; your father and I baked you ourselves. I love you, my sweet boy. Please, talk to me. Tell me what troubles you.” He reaches up, taking his son’s face in his hands. “You can tell me anything. I am here for you.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, a hint of confusion in his eyes before they harden again. Dark Choco shoves him back and draws his blade, pointing it directly at his throat. His Soul Jam screams at him to move, to flee, but he can’t. The blade at his throat, it isn’t normal. He can practically hear its hypnotic song from here, and the red gem wedged in its cross guard glints maliciously. He sees the same strange glint in his son’s eyes.

“I told you not to touch me, fool!” The prince bellows. His hands are trembling, but the sword remains steady, a hair’s breadth from his Soul Jam. One misstep and he’s as good as crumbs. He raises his hands in placation, keeping them in view. “Dark Choco… Put the blade down. Please.” His voice is just barely a whisper. He doesn’t even know how he manages to keep them steady. “Throw down your weapon. I can see what it is, what it’s doing to you. I can heal what it has done. But you have to drop it first.”

Again, his son’s eyes lose that horrible sheen. Dark Choco heaves a shuddering breath, but the sword doesn’t lower. “I-I can’t-- I don’t-- It won’t--” He grunts suddenly and falls to one knee, using the sword for support to hold himself up. He clutches his head, crying out in pain, and Pure Vanilla moves on instinct.

He drops down next to his son, taking his face in his hands once more. “It’s alright, my boy, just fight it. Fight it for me, please.” He rushes to heal his son’s mind, hoping to work while the sword’s influence wavers, but he isn’t fast enough.

The blade is colder than anything he’s ever felt in his life.

He chokes, looking down at the hilt of the sword jutting out of his stomach. Already, warm jam slips around the metal, dripping to the floor between them. The blade, nestled among his insides and so unnaturally cold, sings with satisfaction. The red gem glows brighter, illuminating his jam in an eerie glow. He can already feel it draining him, but he can’t do anything but whimper. He slumps forward, eyes wide as he stares straight ahead. He’s just been stabbed. He’s just been stabbed by his son. He grips at Dark Choco’s tunic, gasping for breath into his son’s shoulder.

His son is wide-eyed, staring down at him in horror. “Appa, I-I--”

“What have you done?!”

Dark Cacao barrels down the hallway towards the two of them. His own blade is already drawn, and his own Soul Jam glistens ferociously. His eyes are wild and dangerous, teeth bared in a snarl. It’s like a switch is flipped, and Dark Choco shoves him away and yanks his blade from his abdomen, making him scream. He raises the jam-coated blade just in time to block Dark Cacao’s strike.

Pure Vanilla chokes on his blood, pressing his hands over the wound as hard as he can. Jam, hot and sticky, bubbles up and around the pressure, continuing to fall. He frantically begins healing himself. He has to stop this before it gets out of hand. Dark Choco just stabbed him, yes, but that wasn’t him. It was the sword. He knows it was the sword. His boy would never do something like that. His magic burns as he tries to heal himself, drawing another scream from his lips. The wound slowly pulls itself back together, leaving a massive, discolored scar in its place. He struggles back to his feet.

His husband and son are locked in a vicious fight, neither managing to land a blow on the other. He knows that won’t last long; Dark Choco may be young and agile, but his father far surpasses him in experience and strength.

“Stop!” He cries, using his staff to support himself. He hobbles closer. They’ll hurt each other if he doesn’t intervene; they’ll kill each other. “Stop fighting! Drop your weapons!”

Dark Cacao blocks another blow, casting a glance his way before he jumps away from Dark Choco, panting for breath. “Explain yourself, boy.” His grip on his sword is tight, and Pure Vanilla can see his hands shaking as he holds himself back. He makes his way over in the silence, grasping the arm holding his sword gently. Still, his husband doesn’t relent. There’s another beat, and Dark Cacao growls, “I said explain yourself!”

“I owe nothing to you, old man. Not an apology nor an explanation.” Dark Choco crouches down, readying himself for another attack. “The fool angered me. I warned him, and he did not listen.”

“Enough of this! Both of you!” Pure Vanilla shouts. The effort makes him sway on his feet, and Dark Cacao drops his sword to support him before he falls. He grips his husband’s robes, looking up into his alarmed face. “The sword! The sword- It’s not-- He can’t--”

Dark Choco suddenly rushes at them, and Dark Cacao is too late to block his slash. The great king roars in pain as the blade slices through his back, carving a gash from shoulder to hip. He twists around, managing to slash Dark Choco across the face before he falls to his knees with Pure Vanilla clinging to him. Pure Vanilla thinks he might be screaming, but he can’t be sure. His hands wander the vast wound, trying to settle on a good place to heal first. Between the blade draining his energy and having to heal himself, he’s not sure he’ll be able to heal it completely.

He can feel hot tears falling down his cheeks as guards flood the corridor and shout commands, but he doesn’t listen. He runs his fingers over the wound over and over, healing it bit by bit. Dark Cacao keeps shouting and trying to get up, but he doesn’t manage to stand until Pure Vanilla finishes healing him with what little magic he had left. “Leave!” He bellows, picking up his greatsword. Even wounded, he levels the sword and points it at their son without wavering. “Leave, and…” He pauses, looking down at Pure Vanilla. Frantically, he shakes his head. He looks at their son, clutching his face in one hand and his sword in the other. His remaining eye stares at them, and he can’t pick out the emotions writhing behind the sheen of that wretched sword. Still, that’s his son. His boy.

“No, my love. Please, don’t…” He begs, grasping his cape. He sobs, bowing his head in supplication. “Please don’t do it…”

Dark Cacao frowns, seeming swayed for a moment before he sees the jam covering him and the scarred dough shown by his torn robes. His gaze hardens and he turns back to Dark Choco. His voice doesn’t shake even when Pure Vanilla lets out an anguished wail. “Leave! And never return!”

~~~

Pure Vanilla knows that today will be a hard day before he even opens his eyes. His body is stiff and his head is throbbing. He groans, groping around next to him to find his husband, and finds nothing but cold sheets. He sits up with a huff and grabs his staff from its spot at his bedside. He looks around the room and finds it empty except for himself. Dark Cacao must be in the throne room already.

He feels chilled to the bone as he gets ready for the day, going through each motion like nothing more than a marionette on a string. The cold seeps into his very essence, dragging him down. He wants nothing more than to climb back in bed, but that isn’t an option right now. He has work to do.

He glances at the small calendar hanging above the dresser, and his heart just about stops. No, it can’t be that day. Already? He could have sworn it wasn’t for another month. Had it really been twenty years since he last saw his son? He stumbles back into the bed, sitting down as his knees buckle under him. He hasn’t seen Dark Choco in two decades as of today. He hears the door swing open and shut across the room, but he can’t find it in himself to look up, not as he hangs his head and buries his face in his hands.

His little boy. He remembers it like it was yesterday, allowing his son to venture out on his own. His confident smile as he waved goodbye and strode off into the winter forests would haunt his memory forever, knowing it was the last time he ever saw his son as himself. He was so different when he came back, like a piece of him was missing. He remembers his Soul Jam crying out and recoiling from the ominous presence looming over the boy he once cherished.

A weight dips the bed beside him and strong arms pull him close to the smell of sandalwood and cocoa powder. He lifts his head to look his husband in the eye, even as his vision is blurred by tears. “Twenty years…”

“I know, ‘Nilla. I know.” Dark Cacao brushes his hair from his face, kissing his nose. “I brought you some tea, and we don’t have to speak to anyone today. We can stay here.”

As guilty as he feels for shirking his duties, the relief far outweighs it. No half-hearted condolences or whispers of ‘the traitor,’ as people seemed so keen on referring to their son. He nods slowly and takes the cup of tea from his husband, sniffling and wiping his tears away. “Thank you. I don’t think I can face anyone today.” He takes a small sip, letting the warm chamomile soothe his aching throat. He feels more tears dripping from his lashes, but Dark Cacao wipes them away before he can move.

“Neither can I.”

They sit in silence for some time, quietly sipping tea and staying close to one another’s warmth. Once he finishes his tea, Pure Vanilla shuffles and tucks his legs beneath himself, leaning on Dark Cacao. He realizes after a moment that his shoulders are shaking, and he peeks at his husband’s face.

“Oh, my love…” He whispers, cupping his cheeks. He wipes away the tears with his thumbs as Dark Cacao had done for him. He takes the cold cup from him and wiggles into his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. Dark Cacao heaves a soft sob and pulls him close, weeping into his chest.

“Our son… Our boy…” He gasps, clutching at Pure Vanilla’s nightshirt like he’ll fall apart if he lets go. “I should have done more to help him… I should have listened!”

“None of that,” Pure Vanilla hiccups, feeling his own throat grow tight with cries he tries to hold back. “It is in the past now. There is nothing we can do besides wait.”

Only a month into the prince’s exile, he finally managed to tell Dark Cacao the situation after he had been avoiding the subject. He made an announcement clearing the prince’s name and calling for his return, but he never showed up. Pure Vanilla remembers poring over old tomes for an explanation and finding out that his poor son had found the Strawberry Jam Sword, which was known to possess its user and drive them to violence.

He remembers the utter horror on Dark Cacao’s face when he told him, the guilt of having hurt his son while he was under the influence of some dark power. He remembers holding each other and watching the Citadel gates together for months, praying for their son to come back. He glances out the window at the frigid landscape and the unwavering walls of the Citadel. Twenty years they’ve waited with nothing to show for it except broken hearts.

Dark Cacao sobs again, and Pure Vanilla runs his fingers through his hair. “I miss him, too. Every single day,” He whispers, voice cracking. He sniffles and rubs his cheek before hugging his husband once more, running his fingertips over the large scar on his back.

“Do you remember what he told us that morning? Before he left?” Dark Cacao chokes out, looking up at him. “He told us he was going to better the kingdom somehow and that exploring was the first step to finding ways to improve.”

Pure Vanilla’s throat tightens up. That had always been Choco’s dream. He wanted the kingdom to thrive, no matter who ruled. He just wanted his people to be happy and healthy. His tongue is dry as he opens his mouth, but he’s stopped short by frantic pounding on the door. He gasps as Dark Cacao grasps his waist and moves him to the bed, storming towards the disruption.

“What?!” He barks at the poor soul behind the interruption.

“The prince!” A courier squeaks out. Pure Vanilla can hear the tremble in their voice. “Th-The prince has returned! He waits at the Citadel gates!” And just like that, they flee down the hallway.

Pure Vanilla stands on shaky legs, clutching his heart as it threatens to beat its way out of his chest. He rushes to grab his staff and locks eyes with his husband. Without a word, he grabs his cloak and grabs Dark Cacao’s hand, sprinting down the hallways towards the gates.

Surely, it can’t be true. This must be some sort of ploy or cruel joke. Has his son truly come back?

The snow hardly feels cold under his bare feet as he stumbles his way outside. He doesn’t care, not when his stomach is doing flips and his hands tremble this way. Dark Cacao is the only thing keeping him from falling on his face at this point, although he doesn’t seem much better. He practically flies down the steps as a crowd comes into view at the gates. A watcher spots them and hollers for the others to move, parting to make way for the kings. Pure Vanilla freezes in his tracks, and Dark Cacao is right behind him. He feels his hand on his shoulder, and he rests his own hand over it. His hand is warm and the cold of the outdoors is stinging, so this can’t be a dream.

It really is him.

He looks different now, but somehow just the same. He’s still a carbon copy of his father with those white streaks in his hair and that solemn look in his eye. His hair is chopped short and obscures one side of his face, but he can see a scar peeking out from behind the onyx tresses. The armor he wears is dented and rusty, and he can see a gauntness to his face he wished he could unsee. He bears no weapon, but he has a scabbard strapped to his belt.

“Choco…?” His voice doesn’t feel like his own anymore. They step closer to one another, and his eye darts between Pure Vanilla and Dark Cacao. He stops in front of them and falls to his knee, bowing his head low.

“Your Majesties. I have come to beg forgiveness for my past transgressions.” Dark Choco’s voice is raspy and low, so different from all those years ago. But still, it’s him. It’s the same timbre he remembers from those last few minutes. He raises his head, looking between the two of them with that ruby eye he’s seen over and over again in his memories. There is no more hateful sheen or dullness, only his son. “I have no excuse for my actions, but I shall do my best to atone for what I have done to you and to this kingdom. I can only hope that--”

Pure Vanilla drops to his knees, wrapping his arms around his son with a wail he can’t keep in anymore. His cry echoes off the walls of the Citadel, mirrored only by Dark Cacao’s as he follows suit. He takes both Choco and Pure Vanilla in his arms, squeezing them tight to his chest. Dark Choco stiffens in shock, but neither of them stop.

Pure Vanilla’s face hurts from how widely he smiles as he takes his son’s face in his hands. The tears are hot on his cheeks, and his son’s skin is rough under his fingertips. His heart flutters like a dove sprung from a cage. With all these sensations, this surely must be real.

“Our son…” He sobs, pressing a frantic kiss to Choco’s forehead. The stunned man only watches him. “You’re home. You’re really home, it’s--” He chokes on a sob, and tries again, “I can’t believe it’s you!” He pulls Choco closer, practically squeezing him to death.

Dark Cacao doesn’t seem to be faring much better. He sobs under his breath, keeping both of them tucked close to his chest and wrapped in his heavy cloak. He blocks out the cold like a wall, keeping them all warm in spite of the fact that they’re all sitting in the snow. “Our boy. My son, I’m so sorry…” He hiccups, mimicking Pure Vanilla’s kiss to his forehead. “I’m so sorry for what I did to you, for what happened.”

“We know it wasn’t your fault,” Pure Vanilla sniffles, bringing Choco’s attention to him again. “That sword, it was evil. But you got rid of it.” He rubs his thumbs under his son’s eyes, watching as tears begin to gather on his lashes. “I’m so proud of you. I’m so grateful you’re home.”

Dark Choco’s lip trembles. “Appa… Father…” He whispers, finally shifting to hug him back. He’s overly cautious with his actions, hugging Pure Vanilla like he’ll disappear if he makes one wrong move. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you both. I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Hush now, sweet boy…” Pure Vanilla whispers, patting his shoulders. He takes a deep breath and wipes at his eyes. “Everything is alright now. You have apologized enough, and we have waited so long to hold our boy again… You’re home now, and that’s all we care about.”

#cookie run kingdom #pure vanilla cookie #dark cacao cookie #purecacao #my writing #request #dark choco cookie #content warning #cw blood #cw violence

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