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catherinem0 · 8 months

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Catherine's Macarons

Website: https://www.catherinemacarons.com/

Address: Block 62A Strathmore Avenue, Queenstown, Singapore

Catherine's Macarons in Singapore offers a delightful range of freshly homemade desserts, perfect for various occasions. Specializing in macarons, cakesicles, cupcakes, and sugar cookies, the business prides itself on high-quality ingredients and customizable options, including personalized designs for events. With islandwide delivery, they cater to a wide range of tastes and preferences, making celebrations special with their exquisite and unique dessert offerings.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CatherineMacarons/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/catherine_macarons_singapore/

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RFbwEUseaI0

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@catherinemacarons

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yandere-writer-momo · 6 months

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Yandere Head Canons:

Build-a-Yandere

Yandere Android x GN Reader

You were lonely. A fact that you eventually came to terms with when you realized you’re the only one in your friend group that still remained single while they started families.

You felt so far behind everyone else. The self doubt crept its fingers into your mind and wouldn’t let go… so you did what you did best. You drowned yourself in the internet. The perfect digital escape from reality…

Dating apps did little to appease your loneliness, but they filled a bit of the void. It wasn’t until you were one wine bottle deep and scrolling through your favorite social media app that you stumbled upon an advertisement to sample a product.

Build-a-boyfriend. A company that allowed its customers to pick every single aspect out for their ideal man. From personality to physical appearance and even to penis size. You could build your own man!

A slurred chuckle escaped your lips. Should you apply to test out their product? It’s not like you had anything to lose… what could be the harm in giving it a shot?

And so you began to fill out the quiz. You wanted a soft and gentle boyfriend. One of those golden retriever boys who only had eyes for you. The kind of guy who had a muscular yet soft build. A man who worked out but would never say no to a cookie. A taller guy who always knew what to say and was cuddly. The kind of guy who was obsessed with you.

The quiz even asked you at the end if you were sure you wanted an obsessive man. Of course you were! Wasn’t that what most people wanted? A partner who was only and all about them? That’s what obsession was! Right?

And so your drunk self finished this entire personality quiz until it went to the physical appearance and the sexual bit. A perverted smile now on your face.

“Let’s give him a big penis.” You laughed as you guided your cursor to drag the length bar to eight inches long. “I want to be filled.”

And then you selected caramel skin tone, cinnamon eyes, and black hair. A smile on your face. You were going to make this android a Latin lover.

“What should I name him…” you thought for a moment before laughing. “Alejandro! Like the lady Gaga song.”

Once you completed the entire quiz, your phone screen lit up a pastel pink. A red heart now in the center of the screen. “Your boyfriend will be delivered to you in a month! Thanks for choosing Build-a-boyfriend!”

And you ended up falling asleep in a puddle of your own drool. Weren’t you just pathetic? Filling out a quick from some questionable website all because you were lonely… imagine you were just scammed? God, why did you not have a boyfriend? Ever since your ex broke up with you, you fell apart. Why weren’t you good enough for a real man?

A month went by in a flash and you were shocked to see the giant package on your doorstep. An envelope attached to the box as well as a large note that said, “No returns!”

This had to be some kind of prank… there was no way this was real- holy shit.

You opened the crate and came face to face with your ideal man… the one you built! Alejandro!

The human like android’s eyes fluttered open, his face quickly lit up once he spotted you. “(Your name)? Are you my girlfriend?!”

You were quickly scooped up into his surprisingly warm arms, the android had a heavy scent of spice and oranges. His nose buried into your neck as he pressed kisses all over your cheeks. “It’s so nice to finally be with you… I’ll be with you from now on!”

Alejandro was a chipper robot. He did household work and made sure you took care of yourself. It was fascinating how human he was… you only knew he wasn’t because of his lack of a beating heart. His body still produced heat, like a furnace, but it wasn’t as comforting as a human presence.

Alejandro assimilated into your life with ease. The weeks quickly rolled into months and he never let you ignore his presence. He was very clingy.

Now the sex was another story. Alejandro was so giving, it was surprising. He often went down on you when he sensed you were stressed. His tongue greedily lapped at your hole as you laid in your bed while his hands held your cheeks apart. His hand pawed at your sex in eagerness. “I want you… want you.”

And Alejandro had you bent over the side of your bed, his fat cock stuffed deep in your tight hole. His hand wrapped around your throat and his tongue shoved in between your lips while his other smacked your bottom between rough thrusts. The sex was amazing… it was always so good.

And Alejandro often checked on you after the deed was done. His warm body curled into yours as he praised you. Yet it began to fill you with disappointment. Alejandro wasn’t a real man. He wasn’t human… he was an android. A robot. Alejandro didn’t know what love was, he was programmed to love you.

So you tried to distance yourself from Alejandro. You felt sickened with yourself for messing around with an android instead of a real man. And this entire thought process stemmed from your friends who expressed disgust in people who fucked robots instead of actual humans. And that filled you with fear. Would they abandon you if you didn’t get rid of Alejandro? Would they think you were disgusting?

“If you want, I could set you up with my cousin!” One of your friends smiled at you as you bit your fingernails. “He’s also single so it should work! I’ll swing by in a week to give you the details!”

Yes. You would take them up on their offer. You just had to get rid of Alejandro first… but how?

A few days had went by and you greatly underestimated Alejandro’s obsession. The android couldn’t handle your avoidance. He began to turn up his affection to the max.

He cleaned until you could see your reflection on the floor. He began to go out of the house to pick you wild flowers. Alejandro even began to be more physically affectionate than he was.

“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry.” Alejandro cried into your arms as he held you. “Please tell me what’s wrong… please. I can fix it.”

“Alejandro… it’s just that you’re not a human man.” You sighed softly. “And I-“

“Is it because I don’t have a heart?” Alejandro softly asked you, his cinnamon eyes now dark like the night sky. “I can’t produce semen? Am I not a comfortable temperature? Or does my skin not feel human enough?”

“I’m sorry-“

“Then I can fix it! I will fix it!” Alejandro held your hands firmly in his. His eyes filled with determination. “I’m your boyfriend! I will be anything you want me to be!”

You just held the android who pulled you into a tight hug. His nose buried into your chest like a lost child. Alejandro then smiled into your skin. He would fix this… he wouldn’t let you abandon him! You made him! You had to take responsibility…

Imagine your horror to come home to see your friend skinned alive as Alejandro held their heart in his hands, the organ still beating from the fresh kill. A big smile on his handsome face.

“I have a heart now! I’ll find all the parts you like and add them in! So please don’t abandon me!”

Just what kind of monster have you created?

“You don’t need some human man to be your match because you have me!” Tears fell down your face when Alejandro tried to wipe your tears away with his bloody hands. “I’m your perfect man, (your name). You made me this way.”

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louispackagingexpert · 2 years

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youtube

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eusyram · 2 years

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"S-so many deliveries!"

"Too bad I couldn't get to them all..."

Now she's pooped and going to get a nice long rest for the rest of the night.

#ooc #out of cliches #or: mary sue tried to deliver vday cookies to everyone she could but...GOT SUBMIT-BOX-BLOCKED #so um PSA to check ur submit perms before lover's day hits us all #meanwhile i'll try dashboard asks and see how far i can go with customization

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packagingmania · 2 years

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Avail best Custom Cookie box with designing:

Cookies are the most popular confectionary products and come in a broad variety of tastes and designs that appeal to consumers' senses and whet their appetites. The various cookie boxes raise the aesthetics of cookies to a higher level and strive to offer the best packaging possible, which improves the brand's reputation and image in the confectionary sector.

#custom cookie box #custom cookie box wholesale #custom cookie packaging box #custom printed cookie box

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dcxdpdabbles · 3 months

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Hello, I love all your aus. I selfishly want to ask for more of Danny's Grill. Pretty please.

Danny added cilantro to the tacos before closing the lid on the carryout box. He glances behind him to see Alvin handing out toys to the kids at the window.

Alvin smiles sweetly at a little girl who stands on her tiptoes to point at the red truck inside Alvin's toy chest. His crush hands her some stickers to build her race track, and Danny's heart leaps at the sweet image.

Little toy cars, dolls, or fidget toys were a real hit with the crime alley children—most didn't have a chance for new toys—and Alvin seemed to glow whenever he gave a new child a toy.

It was his idea on the second night of them going around. Usually, people don't get small gifts when getting food from a food truck, but a few nights ago, Alvin had asked if he could go with Danny on his rounds.

He wanted to tell him no at first since Red Hood had yet to find his pimp, but one look at those sea watercolor eyes had him folding faster than wet paper. He had placed Alvin as the cashier, a grin never leaving his face as Danny listened to the other charm all the customers that wandered over.

It was an oddly domestic setup they had going on.

Danny, with his random menu of food, and Alvin, with his bright smile and charming deposition. After a full day and a bit of night selling food, the two would head home to relax in the oversized baths and spend a lazy afternoon.

All of Danny's chores were done by ghosts who occasionally came by to support them. Other times, they were there to serve Danny. He didn't feel comfortable with having someone waiting on him hand and foot, but he did like treating Alvin with the best service he could offer.

Since Alvin moved in, Danny has been proud to notice his eye bags had decreased, his skin had cleared, and the tension always resting on his shoulders had vanished. He also put on some weight, which upset Alvin a little, but Danny thought it was nice to see him healing.

He worried he was getting attached to Alvin. Danny knew he had fallen in love with Alvin, as much as he wished he hadn't, but he couldn't help it.

Alvin was everything he ever wanted in a partner and more. It was complicated to remind himself that eventually, Alivn would be safe enough to leave his home. It was shameful to admit he was glad that Red Hood was taking a while to find the assholes who hurt his friend.

"Here you are." He tells the teenager with them. "Three orders of tacos de barbacoa."

The teen's nose wrinkles. "Your Spanish sucks."

"I tell him the same thing all the time. But at least he can make really great tacos." Alvin winks as the teenager's smirk grows. The little kids with him laugh happily, and the group of five wanders away.

One little boy is showing off his new car while the little girl grabs the hand the teenager offers her. Alvin watches them until they retreat back into the apartment building from which they came.

Alvin leans back with a loving sigh. "Adorable little beasts"

"What made them beastly?" Danny asks, amused, as the other points to the little tray of cookie bags sitting on the window table.

"The little girl stole two bags. The older one definitely saw but he acted like he didn't."

"That's why you gave them more cookies?" Danny asked, remembering that Alvin had grabbed the to-go bag and sneakily placed the treats inside while Danny cooked.

"Sure. You don't mind if I give out free food, and it would be mean to have them all share two bags when there are five of them." Alvin leans back cracking his neck. "I come from a big family too. Trust me when I say that causes living room wars"

Cute!

Danny hastily looks away, trying to cover up his reaction to Alvin's crooked grin. While trying to hide his blushing face, Danny catches a glimpse of a figure on the rooftop watching them.

Batman.

He waves at the vigilante. He noticed the other following him a few nights ago, and despite the bat-themed hero never recognizing him, Danny still picked up a bottle of soda and a box of food to gesture at him.

He doesn't think he has time for a dinner break, but it would be rude not to offer a meal when he can.

Batman's white lenses narrow for a fraction of a second before he steps back into the shadows disappearing from sight.

He's not hungry then. Okay.

"Danny," Alvin calls from further inside the food truck. "We are almost out of food. Want to call it a night?"

"Sure, I don't mind. Do you want to do anything later?"

Alvin thinks it over before announcing, "I want to go into the pool later. Will you join me?"

I would do anything for you. Danny thinks but only says "Of course. I need a good spa day too. I'm thinking of doing a pedicure."

Alvin smiles at him, and it's brighter than any sun could ever be. With practice, the two dance around each other, doing the clean-up and closing duties to get the truck ready for travel.

Alvin falls into the places that Danny steps out of, giving Danny warm looks that make Danny slightly hot under the collar, but it makes him wish he could keep Alvin forever.

In ten minutes, they are closed up and driving out of Crime Alley on their way back to their mansion. Danny is making the last turn out of Gotham, with Alvin sitting in the passenger seat scrolling on his phone when he feels someone land on his roof.

Seeing that his food truck has become an extension of his haunt, Danny can tell who it is the second they touch his vehicle.

Batman.

When he remembers his early offer, he wonders what the man could want going for a ride. Was the hero finally going to take him up on it? That's wonderful!

"Hey Alvin, I need to do a quick stop," he tells the other while pulling into a 24-hour gas station. Alvin waves his hand, not once glancing up from his phone. Danny suddenly feels the urge to press a kiss against his cheek, but that would be creepy.

So he settles for a quick pat on his shoulders before he slips out of his seat and grabs the leftover pre-prepared meals. He also holds a water bottle just in case the bat is parched. He swiftly steps outside, tilting back to lock his gaze on Batman.

"Here you go," Danny says, holding up the food. "It's still warm."

Batman's eyes widen, then narrow. "No."

What?

"Are you not here for food?"

"No."

Danny waits a moment, but no explanation on why he was riding on his truck comes he clears his throat. "Is there anything I can help you with then?"

"What are your intentions with Tim?"

Who the hell is Tim?

Oh! Wait, he meant Tim from Second Street. Danny had sold him some food and realized the old man couldn't get back on his porch, so he built him a ramp.

Danny spoke to him only during that interaction, but if Old Man Tim was involved in a crime, it was better to act like he wasn't aware.

"Just trying to make him happy is all sir." He says carefully watching for any reaction. The best lies are ones built on truths.

Batman's face stays the same, but in one quick motion, he leaps from the truck and shoots off his grabbing hook. He's gone in seconds, rushing off into the night as Danny watches him go.

He doesn't know why but he gets the strange sense he just passed a test of some kind.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Danny's grill #Part 5 #Bruce gave him a minature shovle talk #Danny is dreaming of that picket white fence with Tim #Tim is handing out toys #Danny is a simp

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abyssruler · 2 years

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the 7-eleven diaries

albedo, alhaitham, childe, scaramouche, venti x gn!reader

your job isn’t the best one out there, but it’s easy and keeps you from drowning in tuition fees and rent. working at a 7-eleven on a midnight shift was supposed to be peaceful, so why is it that you constantly find yourself being bothered by weird customers? (modern au)

fluff, comedy, crack, cashier employee reader, modern au, written for fluffvember!

ALBEDO

It’s difficult not to take notice of the perpetually tired college student (much like yourself) who always comes at the latest hours to order a cup of black coffee and a can of beer. The first time you saw him order that drink was a memorable one, if only because of the way your eyes had nearly popped out of their sockets when you saw him mix the two drinks in a large, empty slurpee cup and proceed to drink it all in a matter of seconds.

Another memorable time was when he came in with only enough money to buy a bottle of water, then took a seat at a table near the counter and took out a box full of what you initially presumed were cookies. It was a traumatizing memory you look back on with a shudder as you remember the way he crunched down on it like it was a piece of biscuit instead of a motherfucking spider.

“They’re surprisingly nutritional, full of protein and fibre. It leaves a strange aftertaste, but it’s a good substitute for dinner.”

Since then, you’ve made sure to keep some food ready in the microwave for him, free of charge. He just looked so pitiful sitting by himself with dark under-eyes and greasy hair — the very image of a normal college student — that you couldn’t help yourself from taking money out of your own pocket to help a fellow comrade.

One day, he came to the store with blown pupils and a sort of dazed look in his eyes, words slurring together as he tried to explain to you how he’s finally created an edible liquid that can keep sleep at bay for at least 120 hours…with some small side-effects, but it’ll wear off with time. That’s when you found out he was a bio-chemistry student well on his way to getting a PhD at his young age.

When questioned why he drank the liquid instead of having someone else do it, his response was, “To experience it firsthand, of course. The basis of research is accuracy and precision, how could I be remiss as to leave such an important experiment to someone who could, in their ignorance, fail to mention an important detail that their mind might have labeled as useless.”

You’re not quite sure how he’s still alive by this point.

But his weirdness aside, you resolve to take care of him in your own way, from a fellow tired college student to another. You remind him to get some sleep, steering him away from eating spiders and encouraging him to eat more meat.

“But I am eating meat?”

“Albedo, that’s a spider.”

“And are you saying that spiders do not possess meat?”

“Oh, for the love of—just eat the goddamn sandwich.”

You think he appreciates it, if the way he dedicated his latest thesis to you is any indication.

ALHAITHAM

You were in the middle of answering a math problem your professor assigned that morning, papers sprawled over the counter with you hunched over it, hand in your hair and trying not to pull at it in frustration over how difficult the problem was. And then he’d come in like an angel, all perfectly shiny hair and a no-nonsense look on his face, took one look at you and the papers scattered across the counter and said one sentence that saved your grade in math.

“You forgot to put a negative sign right there.”

That was the moment you decided that he must be an angel sent from heaven. He always grunts whenever you call him that, though whether it’s from amusement or annoyance remains to be seen.

He doesn’t visit the convenience store much, but when he does, he always spares the time to help you out with whatever assignment you were working on, sometimes even taking the initiative of asking if you need his assistance in answering a problem — though he says this on a much less nicer tone.

“Are you gonna make me do your homework again?”

“My professer didn’t assign me one today, surprisingly enough, so no.”

He seemed strangely disappointed when you told him no, but you chalked it up to him being some sort of math wiz who gets riled up by equations and the like. Seems like kind of guy too, what with all the times he’s made a subtle jab at your intelligence — or lack, thereof.

“How could you possibly need a paper to calculate the answer to four-hundred and thirty-two times fifty-eight?”

“Not all of us are smarter than Rukkhadevata like you.”

“Who?”

He’s not bad company, though that opinion stems solely from the fact that he helps you (solves it for you, more like) with all your homework. Not without making comments about you lazing about on the job and letting your customer answer your assignment for you. You respond in a mature way by making fun of him.

“I’ve never seen you without those earphones. Are you hiding a pair of large ears or something?”

“No.”

He refuses to elaborate more on the subject.

Sometimes you give him a drink, usually cola or juice, as thanks for helping you out. He takes it without question, taking sips from it as he tutors you about this and that, occasionally commenting about your job and how you’re only making yourself suffer by taking on midnight shifts. You don’t see why he cares. For all that you jokingly call him an angel, you know he’s far from actually being one.

You once saw him on campus reading a book by the library. It’s easy enough to come up to him and make conversation, handing him an unopened drink you just bought from a vending machine. It just feels wrong not to, more of a habit by this point.

It’s then that someone decides to dramatically drop his books to the ground and point at you and Alhaitham. The blonde guy gapes and asks how in the world Alhaitham managed not to scare you away. His eyes zero in on the can of grape juice on Alhaitham’s hand, and then he proceeds to laugh, asking Alhaitham since when did he decide to start drinking what he once called was an unhealthy drink composed of sugar and artificial flavoring.

You made a mental note of that response, and later that night, you decide to hand him a packaged biscuit. Nothing unhealthy there. Technically.

“Good. I was beginning to wonder if I should start taking medicine in case my stomach burst from the amount of cola you hand me.”

“You could’ve just not accepted, you know.”

“It was given to me. Not accepting would be considered rude.”

“Didn’t Kaveh say you threw a bottle of orange juice to his face after he gave you one?”

“I did.”

He refuses to elaborate more on the subject, but you’ve since resolved to only give him the healthiest thing you could find on the store—which isn’t much considering this is a 7-eleven, but hey, microwaved salad is still salad, right?

He grumbles about the radiation but eats the salad anyway. Another win for you, you suppose.

CHILDE

He came in near the end of your shift, lips busted and an eye swollen shut, blood splattered all over his clothes. The grin on his face should’ve hinted you at his lunacy, but you’ve always been blind to warnings and the like, so you went over the counter and helped him up from where he’s slumped over the chips and candies isle.

Aether, your co-worker and the one who’s about to take over from your shift, only looked at you with tired eyes, “It’s too early for this shit.” That was, of course, Aether’s way of basically saying, you’re on your own.

So you picked up the ginger lying on the linoleum floors, heaving his arm over your shoulder to drag him to the nearest pharmacy — never let it be said that you were just a bystander. He groaned as the movement bothered whatever injuries he may have, but he still looked at you with wide, strangely lightless eyes, as if only now registering your presence, and said, “Holy shit, you’re hot.”

After you finished dumping him on the pharmacy and leaving the people there baffled at what to do with an injured guy, he grabbed your wrist and, with a bloody smile he probably thought was charming, handed you a piece of paper containing his number.

You never text him. Or call.

He comes back to the store a week later with faint yellow bruises across his face and a far too bright grin for someone who’s visiting a 7-eleven at two in the morning. He pouts about not getting a single text from you, but before you can respond, he’s moving on to another topic, mindlessly picking up a box of tampons by the side and setting it on the counter.

He only seems to realize what he’s done when you give him a strange look.

“Tampons are, uh, great for bloody noses!”

“…Right.”

You weren’t convinced at all, but you decided to let it slide. He seemed like a genuine guy, if a bit too enthusiastic sometimes. His mouth never shuts ups, always going on about this and that, asking all sorts of questions that would’ve normally had most normal people backing away. But your brain isn’t exactly at its best condition and being sleep deprived for the better part of your life has made it less of a brain and more of an organ that just helps you get through the day.

You don’t know exactly why he stays to chat with you, buying ridiculous amounts of stuff that were frankly far too expensive just to have an excuse to talk to you. You don’t mind it much, especially when he’s a great deterrent for any unwanted petty thieves or middle school delinquents trying to rob your store every week or so.

Apparently, he’s got a reputation for being a bit of an adrenaline junkie and being willing to fight anything and everything that breathes. And apparently, word’s gotten out that he’s into you, like, really into you, so most guys who have less-than-well intentions have decided that robbing the local 7-eleven isn’t worth the trouble if it means having to deal with Ajax.

“Actually, it’s Tartaglia.”

“Tarantula?”

“No, Tartaglia. It’s my street name! Ajax just doesn’t inspire the same fear into other people’s hearts the same way Tartaglia does.”

“Whatever you say, Tortilla.”

“It’s Tartaglia!”

He never brings up the fact that you never call or text him back, even when he’s somehow gotten ahold of your number and started sending you memes and updates about his day. When asked, he just shrugs and says he’ll win you over eventually.

SCARAMOUCHE

It wasn’t intentional, and you’ll admit it was completely your fault, but did he have to be such an asshole about you dozing off on the counter?

“Have the standards really fallen so low that employees are now afforded to sleep on the job?”

Here was this guy at two in the morning, bemoaning society’s failure in raising the new generation to have a proper work ethic at a 7-eleven store. The guy had a rolex watch and clothes that looked like they were worth more than your monthly salary — you’re not one to judge other people’s appearances, but he’s the very image of nepotism. And frankly speaking, you’re of the opinion that rich people shouldn’t be entitled to an opinion on what the working class decides do with their life, like falling asleep on the job.

…And oh, you just said that out loud, didn’t you?

Oh well, your manager will understand.

The guy with a bowl cut leaves fuming, but not before slapping a wad of cash down the counter to pay for his stupidly expensive noodles, snarling at you to keep the change since you clearly need it more than him.

You do, in fact, keep the change. Money is money, whether it’s from your salary or a rich boy throwing a tantrum.

The next day in class, a bag slams down the seat beside you, and you’re met with the same rich boy from last night, a scowl painting his rather pretty face as he hisses lowly about how he’s surprised you can afford to go to college. Talk about holding a grudge, you would’ve forgotten all about him from last night if he hadn’t given you his change.

He fumes even more when you don’t give him any sort of reaction, merely nodding your head at him and turning back to the board to listen to your professor drone on about this and that. It’s rather difficult to focus, however, when he keeps muttering sarcastic comments and barbs to the teacher beneath his breath.

“If you even had an iota of charm about you, perhaps your wife wouldn’t have filed for a divorce.”

You choked on a laugh, hand coming up muffle the sound, but he clearly noticed, judging by the way he snaps his head to you, eyes wide and seemingly surprised you found it funny. You only smile at him, an amused little thing, but he quickly looked away and murmured something unintelligible beneath his breath, his fists clenched and the tips of his ears curiously pink.

He comes back to visit your job that night, still with that air of haughtiness about him but a bit toned down. Even more surprising was the fact he didn’t immediately leave the moment he handed you his money.

“Do you want the change?”

“Are you so desperate for money that you’d go begging a total stranger for some spare coin?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess.”

“Tch, fine. You can have it.”

He never fails to come back every night, always giving you the change for his bill, even when the amount is more than the items he paid for. Sometimes, he’ll even take out a snack or a drink from the bag and slide them over to you, cheeks suspiciously red as he did so.

“Don’t think this means anything. I’m only giving this to you because I know you can’t afford it.”

“It’s literally worth ten mora.”

“Would it kill you to at least give me a thank you?”

“Thank you, Kunikuzushi. I’ll be sure to treasure this can of cola that I would’ve never been able to afford without your help.”

“Shut up.”

He buys you a tub of ice cream the next night, the ridiculously expensive kind, to prove a point. The two of you eat it together at one of the tables, him grumbling about the stain on the table and the overall lack of quality and taste — at a 7-eleven — and you laughing whatever he says.

Well, you suppose he’s not as much of an asshole as you initially assumed.

VENTI

He’s a bit popular in campus, in the sense that nearly everyone is friends with him, which makes it impossible not to have heard about that one guy who’s really great at singing. You were, unfortunately, one of the few that aren’t well acquainted with him — aren’t acquainted with him at all.

So when he comes up to the counter, all boyish grin and ridiculously short shorts and a cute little pink hair clip keeping his bangs away from his face, holding an entire household’s worth of vodka and wine, you do what any rational semi-adult would do and look at him with a blank face.

“Are you even old enough to drink?”

He laughs at you like this is a common occurrence he faces on the daily before slapping down his ID on the counter. And huh, would you look at that, he’s even older than you are.

He then lights up once he gets a good look at you. “Hey, you’re Albedo’s friend, aren’t you?” He abandons his alcohol at the counter in favor of looking around your quaint little convenient store. “So this is that 7-eleven he keeps talking about…”

You’re not exactly sure what he’s going on about, but you do know he must be a friend of Albedo’s, which makes you ease up around him. He’s nice. Sort of. If you ignore the teasing and the jokes and the way he keeps asking you to give him a student discount. For alcohol. You’d given him what you hoped was your best imitation of Kunikuzushi’s stink eye. You think you got it on point, if the way he deflates is any indication.

He comes around the store every weekend, saying he’s here to get a little treat for the awful weekday he’s had. You never fail to remind him that he has class every Sunday, to which he responds by opening a can of beer (which he hasn’t paid for yet) and sitting on the counter, bemoaning the injustice of putting classes during the weekends.

You once asked him why he keeps hanging around this store when there’s a perfectly good bar right around the corner, owned by that popular red-haired business major from your university. Venti just laughed and said he prefers the quietness here — and the company, he added with a wag of his eyebrows. He always teases you, sometimes borderline flirting, but it’s easy enough to wave it away.

The day you discovered he was actually well known in campus was when your university hosted a local event. There’d been stalls and booths set up everywhere and even a little mock-stage put up near the center for any band or singer to perform in. It’d been nice to have a break from the monotonous routine of going to class and studying then working at your job and getting less than ideal sleep.

And then you heard your name booming out from the speakers, and you turn your head to see Venti on the stage with that little lyre he sometimes carries with him to the store, saying he’d like your opinion on a song or two he composed.

He dedicates the song to you in front of the entire student body, then proceeds to sing the cheesiest, most gut-wrenching and cringiest love song of all time.

“Why did you have to pick that song?”

“Because it’s fun and cute!”

“I sometimes question your ability to distinguish cute from horrifyingly monstrous.”

There’s a mortified look on your face, but amidst the embarrassment and the teasing remarks of his friends, there’s a smile on your face that you can’t bring yourself to wipe away.

i’ll be doing a part two on this but with diluc, dottore, kazuha, xiao, and zhongli!

@maehemthemisfit @sonder-paradise @96jnie @komiyaa @scaramouchenumber1fan @linn-a-a @wisteriaflowersss @ineriris @yesntforno @serramii @shadowmist0706 @jmgrule @imeanwatever @c00kie-cat @serramii @xtodorokismistressx @ieathairs @endlessmari @strawberryclumsy @serenity-ren-bliss @scarasbaby

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