#I hope pudding features

[kitten4sannie]

dolce and gabbana

pairing: san x guest! reader (fem)

genre: pure smut with a tiddlywink of plot

summary: san can’t seem to get you off his mind after sitting next to you during the latest D&G showcase, so he has no choice but to get you on his dick instead.

w.c: 3.3k

warnings: some alcohol use, subby until he’s not! san, dommy mommy who folds instantly when san asserts himself! reader, both reader and san mutually go after one another despite knowing one of them is MARRIED (hoes will be hoes what can i say <3), reader’s husband is a dick ofc, misogyny (from said husband), cheating, seduction, exhibitionism, mommy/daddy kink….. (i’m weak okay,,), teasing, ITS BIG BTW AND CURVED……, only praise and pet names (omg who hacked k4s???), groping, fingering, kissing, dry humping on a couch in a very crowded room, one neck bite, san cums untouched, oral (receiving), squirting, one singular pussy slap, san puts reader into a mating press on her husband’s side of the bed just for funsies, manhandling, size kink, breeding kink, creampies (sannie cums a lotttt)

a/n: as a pudding since day 1 i am in absolute shambles thanks for asking <3 and YES im very aware i posted yesterday but the fic demons cannot be silenced!!! and just fyi i’m sure san was very grateful and absolutely brimming with excitement to be at the show!! the way i wrote him here does not reflect his actual feelings towards anything,, its just a silly fic and i wrote what i wanted lol. also i wish i could tell you how many times “dolce and gabbana that’s on my titties~” played in my head while i typed this out 😭😭 (also i did not proofread this whatsoever so forgive me if there are errors) but anyways, i hope you enjoy :33

song recs: la romana by bad bunny, rover by kai, planet goddamn by mac miller

San knew eyes would be on him. Why wouldn’t they be? He was dressed to the nines, his hair slicked back to showcase his alluring, feline-like eyes, his sharp, angular features that could give someone a fatal cut if they looked for too long, and most importantly, he was all decked out in a sleek black custom-made top that perfectly adorned his broad shoulders and chest, one that even cinched securely around his impossibly tiny waist. Of course it did. It had been custom fit and made just for his body. Even the tailor had jokingly mentioned that Michelangelo himself must’ve sculpted him to perfection in the heavens before San was born, but San wasn’t laughing. He perfected his body through his own sheer willpower and determination alone, to be the best that he could be for his own self — and if people just so happened to drool over the results of his hard work, then that was simply a perk.

Holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the many camera flashes, he continued to make his way down the walkway, offering many of the starstruck guests a courteous, though charming smile, wondering if their wandering gazes were due to his breathtaking ensemble or what was sitting just below it. The thought tickled him. It continued to amuse him throughout the afternoon, taking picture after picture with eager guests and wealthy tycoons alike, quite pleased with himself when neither man nor woman could seem to control themselves around him, their eyes always drifting downwards to look San up and down like he were next up in an auction, their mouths pressed to their champagne flutes in an effort to quell the thirst they felt, their free hands lingering just a little too long on the small of his back when they bid farewell to him.

San relished the fact that these poor starving individuals could never get a taste of him, no matter how incredibly rich or influential they were. None of them would get a bite of the forbidden fruit without permission from God.

It was then that the show started, various eye-catching models sashaying their way across the aisle to showcase the latest D&G collection, all displaying their own unique set of features and charm. All flawless and angelic in their own right, but they were almost predictable in that way — like mannequins made solely for the rich and beautiful to gawk at. San couldn’t help but look past them, only focusing on the expensive, tailor made clothes that were framing their perfect bodies. And after a while, he almost seemed to grow bored. Of what, exactly? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the sheer gaudiness of it all, the lack of self awareness for things that really mattered in the modern world, and the almost nauseating amount of self-sucking the rich individuals around him seemed to be fond of doing. San would’ve pondered it more when somebody near him gently patted his thigh, causing him to look down at the small manicured hand, the diamond ring around your finger glinting in the light like a warning sign.

“Are you bored like I am?” you whispered softly into his ear from beside him, giving him a quaint smile when he turned his head to face you.

San blushed, leaning slightly in your direction. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, don’t worry. None of these drones will be able to notice.” You motioned your head to the crowd around you, their phones in hand, all whispering to each other about how revolutionary the new collection was, despite it looking eerily similar to the fall one from the year before. “You could whip your cock out and no one would bat an eye.”

“Oh?” San studied your flirtatious smile, then looked down just to make sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him. Yep, the ring was still there — and it probably cost more than a starter house. Delighted by your forwardness, San took it upon himself to tease you, reaching down to slowly unbutton his slim-fitted pants. “Well, if that’s the case…”

Your cheeks turning bright red, you reached downwards to shield his crotch from view, looking up at him with wide eyes, your faces now impossibly close. “I-i was fucking with you! Don’t actually take out your dick…”

San’s sharpened eyes flitted from your gaze to your cherry red lips, letting go of his zipper to gently take your hand in his, pressing it firmly down onto his thigh. “Yet…?” he challenged huskily, wondering if you were like all the others and would yank your hand back, scoff in disgust, and pretend as if it had never happened. It was then that San felt you squeeze your warm hand into the meat of his thigh, your fingers just barely pressing into the inseam of his pants.

“You can be a good boy and wait till the after party, can’t you?” you asked in a lower, sultrier tone, pressing your lips to his cheek to leave your mark on him, your hand moving further up his thigh, only pulling away when you felt something hard press into your palm. Smiling sweetly, you leaned in again, this time allowing your lips to brush over his. “Good things come to those who wait.”

And just like that, you turned forward to focus on the models all gathering onto the stage at once along with the designers, clapping along with the rest of the crowd when they all took a bow. You blew a kiss to one of the designers who caught it and pretended to put it in his pocket.

Still breathless from your short encounter, San nudged your thigh with his own, biting into his lip and tasting the sweetness of your lipstick. You nudged him back, glancing at him through the corner of yours eyes, licking at your own lips, like a predator would before pouncing on their prey.

San couldn’t believe he had finally met someone like you. There was a serpent in his garden — and he couldn’t wait for it to swallow him up.

-

The after party was predictable as always — strangers binge drinking and snorting powder off of your previously pristine marble tabletops, others telling embellished stories about their latest trip to their private islands to various locked-in acquaintances, some off doing god knows what in your many empty guest rooms, and you could not, for the life of you, care about what your husband was currently cackling over with his close friends, focusing on the crackling wood sitting inside the fireplace you were all huddled near. When you inevitably ran out of champagne, you patted your husband’s leg so that he could remove his arm from your waist.

He looked down at you with indifference. “What is it?”

“I need more champagne, honey. I’m going to get some.”

Your husband’s face scrunched up. “Haven’t you had enough? If you drink anymore, you’re going to lose your nice figure.” He looked to his friends for validation who simply nodded along in agreement.

Your husband’s chauvinistic comments didn’t bother you anymore, just his persistent presence in your life. He was like a mosquito that was always trying to drain you, one that you could never seem to swat away. Well, nothing a little dick couldn’t fix. “That’s funny, because I seem to recall the tailor coming in this morning for an emergency visit to alter a certain suit,” you mentioned, this time pushing your husband’s arm away from you, surveying his now quiet friends with an unbothered look, before wandering off, not registering the insecurity driven ramblings that your husband was sending your way.

Once you made your way into the crowded loft, you searched your surroundings for what you were looking for, humming at the sight of the pretty boy from earlier sitting on the large plush couch in the corner, a half-empty champagne flute in hand, his attention on one of the models that had walked for your husband’s collection a few hours earlier. He was even more handsome now that you could study his captivating details, your eyes drifting over his bulky frame, from his large arms and shoulders, to his delicate waist, and down to his spread thighs, zeroing in on what was between them, knowing that the beautiful stranger was blessed in more ways than one based off what you had felt earlier.

Without hesitation, you slowly made your way across the room, your stiletto heels digging into the fur carpet below with each concentrated step, licking your red lips when the model placed one of her hands on San’s thighs and squeezed it, his suddenly submissive expression causing more knots to form within your core. You were going to make him yours.

San could barely hear the pretty model’s words over the loud music and the many overlapping voices inside the loft, not knowing what to say when she moved closer to him, clearly going in for the kill. It was then that someone stood over him, their heel nudging into his loafer. He looked up, his once hazy eyes opening wide at the sight of you standing above him with a bottle of champagne in one hand, your other hand already cradling his face. “M-miss…there you are…”

“Here I am,” you purred, running your fingers along his jaw, satisfied with the fact that your lipstick print was still visible on his tan skin.

San gulped, just about spilling the drink he was still holding onto, unknowingly spreading his thighs open further, as if he was giving you an unspoken invitation to climb onto his lap.

Humming, you lowered yourself into his lap, your plush thighs and ass pressing snuggly against his lower half. “Look at you,” you cooed softly into San’s ear, not caring to give the now fuming model any attention, lowering the cold champagne bottle in between your bodies, chuckling at the soft whimper he let out when it pressed into the exposed sections of his skin. “You’re such a good boy, saving a seat for Mommy like this. Aren’t you, baby?”

“Y-yes, I am, s-so good for you…”

“Then, be good and open your mouth,” you purred, lifting the almost empty bottle and pouring some into your mouth. San’s jaw slowly dropped, not knowing that he was already beginning to drool. You didn’t mind, clutching the sides of his heated face and pressing your parted lips onto his, transferring the sparkling alcohol to him, but not without running your tongue over his.

San brought his hands up near the sides of your ass, his fingers trembling, not knowing if he was allowed to touch you, whimpering into your mouth when you sucked the alcohol off of his tongue.

“You can touch, baby.” You reached for his wrists and brought his hands underneath the hem of your short dress, gasping when he squeezed the softness of your ass in between his ringed fingers and began to slowly guide your hips, your clothed cunt rubbing back and forth over his stiffening cock. “Mm, someone’s eager, hm? You’re a naughty one, making the main designer’s wife grind on your cock like this in front of everyone.”

“It’s…Mommy’s fault…” San murmured near your ear, rolling his own hips up into yours, making you feel every inch of his trapped throbbing cock each time he ground himself into you, biting into his lip at the sound of your breathless moans, swearing he saw your grimacing husband from over your shoulder.

“My fault, huh? Mommy should make up for it, shouldn’t she?” you sighed back onto his heated skin, pressing kiss after kiss onto his collarbones, dragging your tongue along the constellation of freckles he had on his neck, making him shudder underneath you.

“Uh-huh…” San moaned out, your hand suddenly squeezing into and sliding back and forth over his erection, your thumb repeatedly rubbing over the pronounced tip, knowing he was staining his expensive pants with sticky pre-cum. “F-fuck, I’ll cum if you keep doing that…”

“So sensitive, baby, you’re so cute…but you’re not the only one, you know? Look what you did to Mommy~” You gave his balls a gentle squeeze just to hear him whimper, before letting go, instead reaching for his hand again and leading it between your legs, moving your soaked panties to the side just in time for San to fill you up with two thick fingers.

“You’re so wet…” San groaned, unable to keep himself from adding another digit inside your slick hole, beginning to pump them in and out of you, allowing the both of you to listen to the obscene squelching sounds your cunt made each time he finger-fucked you. Something switched inside of San when you began to whine and whimper, and fuck yourself back on his fingers, your eyebrows screwed upwards, begging him for more with your teary, half-closed eyes. “So fucking wet just for me, huh? Hey, Miss, did you know your husband is standing just across the room? Think he’s hard knowing I just got his pretty little wife wetter than she’s been in her entire life?”

“B-baby, don’t tease me like that,” you whispered, not wanting the control you had over him to slip out of your grasp, grabbing onto his shoulders, accidentally causing pieces of his solid outfit to fall off and land onto the leather couch.

“It’s San, Miss, but you can call me Sannie if you wanna be a good girl for me,” he chuckled, shoving his fingers into you up to the knuckles, rolling your clit around underneath his heavy thumb. “And, I’m not teasing you, my love, he’s really watching us, and he looks like he wants to kill me.”

Just as you looked behind you to catch your husband’s displeased gaze, San began to ram his soaked digits into your spasming cunt, feeling his lips, tongue, and teeth on your neck. “O-oh my god, Sannie, oh, fuckkkk…”

Just as your warm arousal began to pour out onto his fingers and lap, San bit down into the area where your neck and collarbone connected, letting out a few stunted groans, his hips jolting up into yours, coating the insides of his designer pants with white.

“Did you just…?” you began, before San stuffed his fingers into your mouth, growing quiet and sucking your arousal off of them. He pulled them out with a pop, but you didn’t even get the chance to continue your question because you were suddenly being lifted up into the air, strong hands clutching your thighs, your legs hooked around San’s waist.

Your defeated, emasculated husband was just a blur when San carried you through the crowded room and up the stairs, not stopping until he got to the largest room at the end of the expansive hallway.

“Which side does your husband sleep on?” San asked, once he stood at the foot of the kingsized bed.

“On the right. Why do you–O-oh,” you gasped as he quickly laid you out on the right side of the bed and lifted your dress up, forcefully spreading your thighs open so that he could bury his face in your cunt, repeatedly lapping at your slit and clit over your soaked panties until he couldn’t take it, reaching up to tear your panties off with ease. “Sannie, baby boy, what’s gotten into you?”

San looked up at you with dark, dilated eyes, reaching up to his broad body to rip off the rest of his outfit, his solid muscles flexing as he closed his fingers around your waist, yanking you lower so that your cunt was closer to his face, looking like he was about to eat you alive. “Daddy’s hungry,” he simply replied, diving back into your cunt to lick and slurp up your juices, tonguing your hole just to feel you clench around him, his nose nudging your clit as he ate you out like a starved man.

Sooner or later, you began to shudder and pant, tugging at the ends of San’s sweaty hair, your thighs pressing into the sides of his head until he forcefully held them down, quickly moving his head up and down as he dragged his tongue roughly over your throbbing clit, his focused eyes never leaving yours. “S-sannie, I’m really, fuck– I’m gonna cum…!”

“Cum for Daddy,” he demanded gruffly, stuffing three fingers into your cunt and pounding them into your g-spot, lifting your ass up with his other hand so that he could catch the stream of arousal that suddenly squirted out of you, some of it inevitably soaking into the satin sheets below you. San licked your juices from his lips, going down to give your puffy cunt one last lick to savor your taste, before standing up from the bed and unbuckling his pants.

“Y-you….Did you get possessed by a demon?” you asked half-jokingly, unable to keep your thighs from trembling, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your wrist.

“And if I did? You’d still let me fuck you, wouldn’t you?” San smiled devilishly, his dimples appearing, kicking off his pants and running his closed hand along his curved, dripping length. He pressed his thighs against the side of the bed, running the tip of his cock over your lips, watching fondly as you sucked and licked the beads of pre-cum that leaked from the slit.

“I would.” Lifting yourself up so that you could completely rid yourself of your disheveled dress, you reached up for the handsome stranger, licking the saltiness from your lips. “Now, come here and show Mommy just how much Daddy wants her.”

San wasted no time climbing back onto the bed and folding you up into a mating press, leaning back to send a few wads of spit onto your cunt, smacking his hand against the wetness for good measure, before he plunged himself deep inside you.

You just about screamed, not ready for San’s unusual size and shape, the curve of his cock rubbing deliciously along your tightening walls each time he pounded himself into you. “S–ann–ie…! It’s so big, fuck– so good!”

“Aww, poor baby’s never had a big cock stretching out her pretty pussy before, huh?” San cooed into your ear, pulling all the way out, just to slam himself back in, hitting your g-spot dead on, making you cry out deliriously. “You’ll never be able to go back to your husband after this. You’re gonna be begging for me to take care of you from now on….” San pressed his lips against yours, sucking on your tongue as you moaned out for him. “Want you to cum for me again, baby…Squirt on my cock, okay?”

“S-Sannie, it’s too much,” you whined out, dragging your nails down his broad back, your toes curling just as San punched your next orgasm out of you when his curved cock once again came in contact with your g-spot.

As you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure, San licked your tears away, gently pressing his lips into your cheek and jaw, shushing you. “Don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s here for you.” He clutched you close, holding still inside you, as his cock began to twitch. “Here it comes, princess, just for you.” A hot, creamy stream of cum began to shoot out into you, completely drenching your insides with his load.

You could hardly speak at this point in time, solely concentrated on the pleasure that still had a hold on your sore body and the warmth that was filling you up to the brim, suddenly realizing that your husband really wasn’t going to be happy with you. “Y-you shouldn’t have…nnnngh….”

San continued to roll his hips into you, his eyelids fluttering, groans spilling from his throat, your cunt still milking his pulsing cock for all it had, which was a lot, to say the least. Once there was nothing left to give you, San leaned down, pressing one last kiss to your lips, not caring that you had left your lipstick all over him. “Can I ask you something, baby?”

“Y-yes, San?”

San smiled, his glossy brown eyes glistening in the light. “When you have my baby, will you have the heart to tell your poor husband that it’s actually mine?”

Panting heavily and trying to process what the handsome stranger just said, you finally came to the realization that you let someone who didn’t even know your name possibly impregnate you. Well, at least you had something to talk about over breakfast with your husband, rather than hear him go on and on about his latest collection.

“I’m not sure about that one…”

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Hm?”

“Should I name our baby Dolce or Gabbana?”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

ERrOr 0.2

Love and Deepspace Various! / Reader

《File welcomes you! Enter! ... Good Luck.》

-

Wiping down a few menus scattered around the café, you glance at the cloudy skies.

Not quite sunny, but rather plain. Reaching over to the blinds, you lower them down. Ready to close up since you had the key.

DING!

A young man wearing a familiar smile comes in, a jacket wrapped around him as hands laid in his pockets.

“...Are you still open?” He asked politely, the friendly and attitude lighting up the rather quiet cafe. 

Blinking at him, rag in hand. A somber, almost knowing grin creeps up your face. “I… Yeah, please. Come in.”

You move away from the blinds, barely having the courage to look at his handsome face. Setting yourself up at the register, you ask for his order, rag held tightly between your fingers.

He eyes the menu behind you, scanning over the titles until he settles on a few things. Two mini apple parfaits and a single coffee. 

Not even bothering to right down the order, you keep eye contact when asking for his name. Voice almost shrill as the rag becomes tatters in your grip.

“Oh! It’s Caleb.” 

-

Holding the tearful girl in your arms, you keep your mouth shut. Patting her back as she wails incoherent nonsense by your ear. 

While, you wished to tell her the truth, you knew deep down you couldn’t. The only solace you could offer in her time of sorrow were merely gestures of comfort. Hoping it would be enough to appease the both of you.

Glancing at the apple parfaits sitting on your kitchen counter, you hold MC tighter.

-

Xavier blinked at the small bunny shaped dessert, the white porcelain plate glimmering against the sun from the window. You sit in front of him as he blinks the sleep away from his eyes, his lunch barely touched.

“Hi..? Are you awake?” You smile far to chipper, blinding him more the sun rays. Expecting the fawning gaze you directed at him, his lips part into a frown.

The expression you wore was unfamiliar to him. 

“...Mn, ‘sorry.”

“It’s fine, I thought some dessert would wake you up. Don’t worry, it won’t be on your bill!” You wink.

Amused, he nods, grabbing a spoon, lightly poking at the jiggly rabbit shaped pudding. You giggle, enjoying his actions openly. Xavier relaxes a bit, forgetting the small details from before.

“Hey… Is…” You pause, biting at your lips,nervously gripping the tray.

“Hm?” He hums, his beautiful blue eyes keeping sole attention on you.

“Is MC-... I mean-! So, are you and MC doing anything later? I’m free after closing, maybe we get something to eat?” You ask hopefully, knowing you would be dismissed from the offer. You even asked Zayne a day ago if he’d like to meet up for some grub.

Not knowing the next chance, you would be able to see him out and about! Yet before he could even give an answer, he got an urgent call from the hospital. Leaving in a hurry as he grabs your notepad and pen, writing something down before placing it on the table. Leaving soon after… Checking what he wrote in such a rush … HIS NUMBER!? 

You recall skipping home, swinging the paper about joyously.

“I would-”

“FINALLY! I FOUND IT!” 

Rafayel beams, the doors bell announcing his entrance as a sweating MC follows behind. Features censored for readers! 

“YOU…!” She grits out, before gasping and making a beeline towards you. Eagerly like a cat drawn to milk. “I’m so sorry about him, (Y/N)! I’ll kick him out right now!”

Yet she makes no move to do so as she sticks to you like glue, wrapping a hand around your waist easily. She plucks the cafe tray from you.

She holds it as if she were a brave knight, the tray her shield to protect what a knight holds dear! 

Glaring at the purple haired male. “Go, shoo fishy~!” She waves him off, the merman in question scowls.

“Sorry Miss Bodyguard, but I can’t at the moment, now if you would move-” Rafeyels tone was filled with annoyance as the female hunter shakes her head.

“Excuse me, I’d like to order…” 

Blinking, you regain your bearings as MC hisses at the new voice.

“Right! Sorry! Coming right over!”

Moving out her grip, you walk over to the disguised Sylus, you follow after him like a loyal dog. 

   “Not him too..!” She grunts stubbornly under her breath, exasperated. Sighing before receiving a text from Zayne that he was about to stop by the cafe for lunch. Asking if she wanted anything.

With another reluctant sigh, she texts back.

Rafayel huffs, scanning the small cafe, before his eyes settle on the small fish doodle placed near the menu, a few other animal drawings scattered around as well.

-

{Part 1. Side Story 1. Side Story 2. Side Story 3. Side Story 4. Side Story 5.}

[To celebrate the Caleb update! A two parter! I hope you guys like this new installment, if you guys got more caleb ideas or your favs, let me know! Thanks for reading! See yall later!]

@mangooes @deputy-videogamer @yoongi-tunes @3ophelia3 @kuni-k @paledonutking @i-literally-dk @liz9898

[mitskicodedwukong]

🍭 SWEET TOOTH 🍭 || Macaque x Reader

» sweet tooth (cavetown) « 0:45 ─〇───── 4:07

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝🍑╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗🍑╔⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ This is reposted from my old account, @nothyenlowz :3 ➤ This is a oneshot. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader uses she/her and is a cat demon, so she has cat-like features/behaviors! ➤ Described the clothes but tried to keep it simple/vague so ppl could add more details if they'd like! ➤ I wrote this quite a while ago and I think I picked foods sort of randomly (I looked up dinner foods I think lol) so if you're reading this and you're like wtf is this dinner... I'm so sorry </3 ➤ I kinda lost the plot a few times I think,, and I got super into the shadow story,, hope this is good!! Also sorry if I switched tenses at some point, it happens rip. Also also if the kiss scene is bad I'm so sorry, I'm awkward asf LMAO. ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include use of "name" (couldn't avoid it, sorry </3), profanity, a little bit of angst, referenced toxicity, and referenced murder. ➤ Word count: 3,451

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

❝ A sweet tooth for you, I'm wide awake .❞

Your tail vibrates excitedly as the timer goes off, alerting you that the mango pudding is done chilling. Grinning widely, you almost run to your fridge, throwing open the door and crouching to pull the cooled dessert out. You take a deep whiff as you wander back to the counter, shutting the fridge door with a bump of your hip. It smells heavenly, and an experimental shake of the pan leads you to believe the sweet treat has successfully set.

You set down the pudding and turn to the dishes, rinsing them in the sink and leaving them in the basin to be properly washed later. As you scratch a particularly stubborn splash of dried pudding from the whisk, you look over at your oven, squinting to read the numbers displayed.

5:47.

"Ah, shit," you hiss under your breath, finishing up with the whisk and nearly tossing it into the basin.

I'm going to be late! you fret as you pull off your apron, throwing it upon the counter as you rush to your bedroom to pull on your outfit: a simple white turtleneck over a soft long-sleeve and high-waisted pants, complemented with long socks and short, buckled heels. Once you finish with your outfit and additional accessories, you grab a basket on your way out of your room and quickly fill it with cutlery, cubed mangoes, sugar, and of course, the pudding.

You pause for a second, ears flicking about as you try to make sure you haven't forgotten anything. Your time is cut short as another alarm sings out on your phone.

You squeak, shoving your phone into your pocket and spinning on your heel as you race out of your home, narrowly keeping the basket from slapping against your side.

──────────────

You're fairly certain the only reason Macaque doesn't snap at you slamming the dojo doors is because he heard you coming.

He's curled up on his couch, a hefty book in his lap—probably about something medicinal or historical if you had to guess. Your eyes flicker to his face, scowling as you see his signature smirk, golden-brown eyes scanning your hunched-over figure in amusement.

"Look what the cat dragged in," purrs the demon.

"You—hah—think you're soooo funny," you grit out, shuffling to the couch with a glare.

"When aren't I?" Macaque asks.

The monkey slaps his tail across your face before you can recite the "a" portion of your alphabetized list.

"How come you're so late today?" he teases. "Normally you're here before I am."

You roll your eyes and give a half-hearted bite to the demon's tail, barely grazing the fur, but he pulls it away with a narrowed gaze anyway. You give him a dramatically sweet face, fluttering your lashes as you set your basket on the table.

You make a lazy gesture at it. "I made something for us."

"Oh?" Macaque asks, cocking an eyebrow. "How romantic, starlight."

For a split second, you consider letting your embarrassment at the implication get to you. But then you decide if Macaque wants to be a little evil, you may as well join him.

"Only the best for you, moonflower," you coo back, revelling in the way the black-furred monkey's face heats up around his spiked mask. You immediately laugh at his blush, far more elated at your ability to fluster the stoic demon than you think is normal, adoring the way his ears wiggle as though trying to hide his face.

"Laugh it up, kitty," he grumbles, reaching out for the basket.

You lunge forward and smack his hand before his claw tips so much as brush the handles. "Nu-uh! That's for after dinner, loser."

Macaque frowns and squints at you, shaking his hand and blowing on it dramatically. "What are you, five?"

"Out of five~!" You sing-song, scooping up the basket as you jump to your feet. "Now get cooking, Macaroni."

──────────────

When Macaque announces the food's almost done, you decide to raid his wardrobe for pajamas.

You zoom up the stairs before he can say a word, but to your surprise, he doesn't make so much as a sigh as your thundering footsteps fade into his room.

It's weird. Normally Macaque always whines about you snagging his clothes, complaining about the pastry stains or endless amounts of cat hair that ends up on them—which is a small price to pay when you're constantly making him yummy treats!—but tonight he's oddly quiet.

Come to think of it... he's been acting off for a while.

You noticed it last month. Your time spent with the monkey had turned more... hm, physical. He seemed to have a sudden interest in training, teaching you how to make certain foods, dancing, even cuddling, interestingly enough. And amongst his standard sarcasm and snark, he was complimenting you a lot more, too. You'd even started finding little trinkets around your house! So unless someone else with a penchant for purple aesthetics was breaking into your house to leave you jewelry and pretty flowers, it had to be Macaque.

But simultaneously, Macaque seemed to be... distancing himself. A canceled plan here and there, an excuse to leave the room every now and then, a strange new sense of secrecy within the demon, as though he was guarding something from you—like he was afraid of you coming too close all over again.

It was so confusing. If you allowed yourself to consider the possibility that the demon had fallen for you of all people, what were you supposed to make of his behavior? That he found the notion of liking you silly, or maybe he hated it, and he was torn between making a game of it or completely pushing you away?

The thought strikes you right in the chest, your bottom lip falling victim to your sharp teeth.

Just recently you'd come to terms with just how much you really like the monkey—how much you love the sound of his voice and the way he drags you into trouble and his devotedness to you as a friend. It'd been an catastrophic realization, really, one that left you tossing and turning in bed and damn near ripping your fur out.

How could you be blamed? Macaque was hardened like stone in the aftermath of his past, making him closed-off and apathetic; a "lone wolf" in spite of his nature. It'd taken so, so much time and patience to get to where you two were now, laughing and poking fun at each other in his dojo, his safe space.

The last thing you want is to lose everything because your silly heart loves tragedies.

"Starlight!" Macaque's sharp call comes from downstairs, making you jump. "The hell are you doing? I said dinner's done!"

"Ack—I'm coming, just a minute!"

You quickly throw on a loose shirt and shorts, struggling a bit with the hole for your tail before finally settling the limb and bounding out of the room. Immediately, an aroma of deliciousness hits your nose. You almost stumble down the stairs due to the distraction, righting yourself with an embarrassed flush (boy, are you glad Macaque didn't see that) and carefully making your way into the kitchen.

Your eyes widen at what you see. A large bowl of chǎofàn sits at the table, neighbored by a plate of tángcù lǐjǐ and another of xiǎolóngbāo. The scent is divine, and you would call the meal a gift from Buddha if it weren't for the smirking demon leaning against the counter.

"Like what you see?" he asks cockily, tail sweeping against the ground in a lazy sway.

"No way you just made all of this!" you exclaim, grinning.

"Maybe I'm just that good," replies the black-furred monkey with a wink, fetching two plates and some silverware out of various cupboards and drawers.

"Not that good," you snort, grabbing your basket from the fridge. "Come on, what's the trick this time, moonflower?"

The demon falls strangely silent at your question. You raise an eyebrow at his back, waiting for a response. Finally, in an uncharacteristically small voice, Macaque says, "I've been preparing."

There's more to it. There's definitely more to it, but you'll be merciful and not push any further.

You set the basket down on the floor and take the plate held out to you, happily filling it up before moving to your seat. Macaque joins you on the opposite side, silent save for the short scraping sound of silverware against glass. The uncomfortable silence threatens to spoil your appetite, and you spend a few quiet minutes praying that the demon across from you will say something.

"Is it good?"

Thank Buddha, you think, immediately put at ease to hear his voice.

"Duh," you say, swallowing another forkful of delicious food. "Your cooking is some of the best I've ever had."

"Oh really?" Macaque leans forward on his elbows, hands laced under his chin, and you feel your face warm ever-so-slightly. "Then where do I rank, starlight?"

"Top ten at least," you tease, reaching for more chǎofàn. Macaque unlaces a hand to pick up the bowl and pass it to you.

"At least," he chuckles. "Well, eat up. I have a play to put on."

"A play?" You repeat, cheeks round with rice.

Macaque nods. "Yes." Quickly, he adds, "for you."

You very nearly make a quip about the romance of dinner and a show, but seeing his tail tense and thud against the floor makes you reconsider.

Instead, you smile. "I'll be there."

The monkey snorts. "Where else would you be?" Then, "if you stand me up for rice and chicken, I'll never make it again."

You fake an angry grumble. "Don't you have to go prepare, smart guy?"

He blinks. Once. Twice.

"Oh," he says, simply at first. Then his eyes widen. "Oh, yes! I have to—there are things I have to—I'm going now." Macaque cuts his rambling short and just barely avoids sprinting out of the kitchen like his tail is on fire.

"Don't—" you cringe at the sound of something falling, followed by a quiet yelp. "—hurt yourself on the way out..."

──────────────

You sit amongst soft blankets and pillows, tails curled around your knees as you wait for the play to start. The light of Macaque's lantern bathes the dojo in a violet hue, shadows dancing with the sway of it as Macaque gets into position. The monkey's innate shadow powers and connection to the artifact make it easy to manipulate it and the dark for his purposes, so part of you is confused that Macaque settles himself so far away from you. You reason that maybe the demon's just feeling extra dramatic for this story.

Or maybe this is it, you think.

You don't know what that means—your stomach twists all the same.

"Welcome viewer, to a shadow play the likes of which have never been seen."

You smile at the signature opening line, a soft purr rumbling in your throat as you listen closely, ears perked in Macaque's direction.

"Here we follow another tale about the tragic Warrior." Macaque's voice reverberates around you, and you watch as a simplified silhouette of hi—ahem, "the Warrior" manifests from the shadows. "Though this story is unlike the others—for instead of our Warrior bearing yet another arduous chapter of life, perhaps he has found his happy end.

"Everyone knows the tale of how the Sun came to betray the Moon. But what very few have to come to learn is that it was the Moon that brought on such a tragedy. You see, many centuries ago, the Moon could only see their dark side—blemished, indecipherable, and lacking in light. So often the moon thought of their dark side and wept, believing that if it was all they saw, it was all anyone could see. And then the Moon realized something. They were the Sun's only companion, their only friend, so surely, surely, the Sun would give their light to them.

"And at first, the Sun did everything they could to show the Moon just how bright they could be. The Sun taught the Moon everything they knew, and the Moon took that knowledge and taught it to others, becoming a beloved warrior. And when the Moon became the Warrior, they changed the Sun into a Hero—a well-shaped, perfect vessel of holiness and goodness.

"The Sun allowed this because they loved the Warrior, so they locked themselves within the Hero. And while the Warrior loved the Hero very much, they were so blinded by love for their light that they didn't see what they were doing to their beloved Sun.

"Years passed and the Warrior had taken almost every bit of sunlight. Only their heart and a small sliver remained, which the Sun branded on to the Hero's golden cudgel and hid beneath stone so the Warrior could not find it. This angered the Warrior, who still could not see what they'd done to the Sun, for they were so hidden within the Hero. He said, "my Hero! Why do you hide your light from me? Is it not mine, too? Have I not helped you shine?"

"The Hero replied, "I hide nothing from you, my Warrior, certainly not our light. I simply have no more to give you."

"The Warrior was displeased, and this displeasure, coupled with the dimming Sun, poisoned their light until nothing remained but a thin halo around the two of them.

"This terrified the Warrior—to see that they were so close to becoming the Moon again, so close to being consumed by their dark side, that they demanded the Hero give them their heart. Only this time, the Hero refused.

""You are not a hero," spat the Warrior. "And you are no longer a warrior," whispered the Hero. The Warrior was very angry, so they attempted to swallow the Sun itself. They peeled away the Hero's stone body to reveal the blazing heart beneath, fully intent to rob them of every last bit of light they had, even if it meant they'd never shine again.

"The Sun broke free of the Hero's perfect body, and, using the light on the golden cudgel, banished the Warrior to a place of no light. No stars. No song. Only darkness.

"A place where the Moon could no longer hide."

While you've never heard the story portrayed this way, you find it heartbreakingly easy to tell he's talking about his death and descent into Diyu. You fiddle with your hands, pressing on the paw pads as you stare, watching the Warrior turn into wisps as a glowing mass of shadows (the Sun?) form into a tendril and strikes them.

It's almost too much to watch, your brain caught up in what preceded Macaque's death. Is this why he's been so nervous? It would make sense—this version of the tale makes him vulnerable to say the least, and it's oozing with painful, regretful honesty. The truth has never been easy for him, so you can't imagine the strength it's taking him to preform this.

The scene changes, shifting in a quick montage.

"For centuries, the Moon rotted in their anger and sorrow. So angry were they that they allowed themselves to be hung from strings like a simple puppet, used as a weapon to harm undeserving victims."

Flashes of burned and otherwise destroyed villages wrap around the dojo, all with a chained Macaque hovering above, eyes burning. The last image you recognize as the Monkie Kid and his group. A shadowy tendril wraps around the kid's limbs, attached to him in a similar way to Macaque's chains. Your stomach twists.

"Even when the Moon finally relinquished their fury and reconciled with the Sun, they still could not find it in them to shine. They'd ruined the Warrior many years ago, and they still couldn't believe the Moon would be any good.

"...or so they thought. One day, the Moon came across a maiden. She was gentle and wild; unapologetic, unwavering, and bold. She was a mountain who stood unblinking before the weight of the Moon's darkness.

"The Moon thought they were doomed to break her, as they so often did to strong things. But then the Maiden produced a mooncake from her robes, split it in half, and said, "Would you share this treat with me, pretty Moon?""

A feminine silhouette appears before the Warrior, dressed in a flowing hanfu and flowers. Most interestingly, the Maiden has tufted ears and a long, fluffy tail just like—

Your face erupts in a shocked blush as understanding dawns on you.

The first time you met Macaque, you'd been out selling mooncakes. It'd been a good day, and by the end you had a single treat left, which you fully intended to scarf down while watching the sun set. But then you'd seen him, leaning against a bridge and watching the reflection of the sun in the river, and he just looked so sad, you thought a mooncake would add a little brightness to his face.

A pity cake it might have been, but you think it was one of the best pity cakes you've ever dolled out.

"The Moon took the Maiden's gift. Together, the two ate at their cakes until they were naught but crumbs and the sun had long set. Before they parted, the Maiden smiled at the Moon.

"And the Moon glowed.

"The Moon glowed so bright that moonlight showed through the craters in their skin, that the stars came down to twinkle in their fur and the sweetest dreams whispered in their ears. For once, the Moon was something shining, something bright, and at last they understood: they had needed someone to glow for, not because of.

"For weeks, the Moon and the Maiden continued to meet. The Moon continued to glow, feeling more and more like the great warrior they once were. But what is a warrior without a home to return to?

The shadows merge into a single ball, gliding towards you and settling before you. The ball reforms, revealing Macaque kneeling in front of you, your hands held gently in his. But what really catches your eye is his glamour—or lack thereof. His six ears, the reason for his namesake, unfurl from his head like flower petals, glowing with shades of blue, pink, and purple that illuminate both of your faces. His fur lengths, shaggy and a little rough-looking; a white halo of fur surrounds his face, shimmering in the soft light.

His eye, blind though it may be, is milky and spotted like the bright side of the moon and you can't help but think it's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

"And now to discover how this story ends," he says softly.

"Macaque—" you begin, only to fall silent when he squeezes your hands.

"I know I'm not a hero," Macaque says. "I think I might always be a little... bad—a trickster, a bit of a thief, a bully every now and then; a shadow of something good. But you make me feel... real. Like I can be something more, something people can love without getting hurt, and I haven't felt that in a long, long time, starlight."

You blink, feeling something wet tease the corner of your eyes. Your heart thumps in your chest, tail unfurling from your knees and reaching out. Macaque meets it halfway and they curl around each other like ribbons.

"I love you," Macaque whispers. Louder, he says it again, and you shiver when he says your name. "I love you, and if you'll have me, I'll be yours for as long as you want me."

Your mouth feels dry, your body nearly numb with—what, shock? Excitement? Happiness? Exhaustion because you're feeling all the things?

Probably.

But still, your heart swells at the confession and your hands slip from his to cradle his face and you say, "I love you too, Macaque."

Macaque grins, eyes shining wetly. His hands go to your cheeks, thumbs brushing under your eyes. His ears flap against your hands for a second, and then he whispers, "can I kiss you?"

Your heart nearly explodes. But you give nothing away as you utter a soft, "yes."

You're not quite sure what to expect when his lips meet yours. Fireworks, or maybe like a puzzle piece is shifting into place. You think you can safely say you feel neither, but you do feel both of your growing smiles, until you're pulling away to laugh and Macaque follows suit.

When your giggles die down, you pet the demon's ears again. "You wanna have dessert now?"

The black-furred monkey huffs, leaning into your touch. "In a minute," he murmurs, and then he's bringing you back to his lips.

❝ I like you—say it back .❞

[yoichiue]

𝓈𝑜𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒

❤︎ — ꒰ isagi yoichi x f! reader ꒱

ᦾ sfw ﾉ fluff with a smidge of angst + comfort ﾉ fem reader ﾉ depictions of anxiety (isagi) ﾉ established relationship ﾉ mentions of reader being a ballerina ﾉ oc added for the plot ﾉ cursing ﾉ he calls reader bambi ﾉ yumeshippie coded . . .

୨୧ . was feeling very soft for my baby blue so this was rather self indulgent .. T T — 𝓚 .

falling in love with your best friend was easy. it felt like it was the most natural relationship in the world actually, as if you and him were supposed to happen, it just felt right that you two were together. two perfectly slotted puzzle pieces that were always tethered to one another. two peas in a pod, steamed milk to espresso.

at least that's what your friend says.

her exasperated expression pulls a wry smile onto your features as you mindlessly trace the rim of your glass gently, familiar pools of twinkling baby blue’s that held a lavish amount of adoration for you manifest inside of your head like a cinematic record—replaying isagi’s honeyed gaze and silk-like touch when he had cradled your face oh-so-gently and murmured a low ‘be safe’ before you left to meet with your friend. his words felt like the soft cashmere sweater you decided to wear, fine and delicate, warm to the touch as the simplicity of his intentions enfolded your skin and left a lingering fuzziness that never faded away despite the biting cold.

you're so deep into your head that you barely even hear her voice until she lets out an overdramatic whine that pulls you out of your stupor. echoes of her voice reverberated throughout the walls while the mental picture you carefully painted onto the canvas you call your consciousness ebbs away, your focus now on her.

“are you even listening? i asked you a question!” your friend, yuki, gazing at your visage crinkles her brow in disbelief at your lack of attention. you realize that you've been swimming in the depths of your mind, enamored by the psyche of the keeper of your heart and you start to chuckle because her expression has morphed into a childish pout, her lips jutted out dramatically and you rub her knuckles in apology. offering up the last piece of your tiramisu, you hope she accepts your peace offering to satiate her growing impatience.

“i’m sorry! i just got caught in a daydream that's all. what was your question kiki?” your smile was coy as you made sure to use her favorite endearment to soften her edges, voice lilted with sugar when you start to see the corners of her mouth turn upwards and into a shy smile.

“i just … i was curious about you and him–isagi i mean. don’t you ever find yourself getting tired of being with him for so long?” her sheepish grin had stayed despite the serious question, the words weighing heavily.

funnily enough, you've heard this question a million times throughout the years you've dated isagi and you still could never find a way to find the right response. the obvious choice was of course to always say, ‘no, never!’, sometimes even feeling the rooted seeds of guilt planting itself into your heart like a disease when you think you might be tired of him. you like to mediate that your instant response will always be your answer, at least most of the time anyway. you'd jump over the moon in triumph if he would stop leaving his socks scattered across the floor of your bedroom or forgetting to clean the kitten’s food bowl.

but there was no doubt that isagi yoichi was a good boyfriend to you, the envious gazes and whispers from everyone that always inundated your head proved it so. he always remembered your coffee order, never missed an opportunity to make time for your performances—even remembering the tradition of bringing you your favorite flowers instead of the trademark red roses after your bow on the stage, and dragging you to your favorite hole-in-the-wall cafe where you both shared a steaming plate of golden chicken katsu and a large serving of caramel custard pudding decorated with a dripping dark brown molasses crown.

he let you do skincare nights with him, read all of your favorite books and curated a private playlist with all of the songs you currently liked listening to simply because they were your favorite.

he felt like a lovesick fool as he adored your visage like a painter to a muse, eyes softening when your eyes glimmered with joy when doing, listening, or touching anything that brought out your smile. hence why he never failed to praise and leave you little gifts or trinkets that reminded him of you, making you hum in fulfillment. your radiance in the mundane joys you indulged into was what made him feel akin to a moth drawn to a flame, and he was never going to forget the undeniable way his heart sang an indescribable melody for you every time you were near, a symphony that was unique to your sturdy bond.

nonetheless, what was perfect isn't exactly what it appears like on the outside. you were no stranger to isagi’s defects and you weren't afraid to admit that. you can't count how many times where you've had to pull him back from the rabbit hole of his burdens, the anxiety of not being good enough corroding away at his fickle heart and the prickling sensations etched deep into his skin as the sensations make his brain pound with dizziness.

there were some nights where he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off of the glowing screen of his phone, the seeds of insecurity planting themselves into his psyche as he tries his best to mask the festering feeling of trepidation that was close to erupting like a bubbling volcano.

he can feel his organs twist into knots, his hands furled into tight fists as he paces around your shared apartment while he tries to calm the overwhelming sensation of having what he believed, to be the most shittiest match ever.

it's too much–it was all too much. the incessant talking on the TV he used as background noise clashed with the loud pounding of doubt that clawed at his brain, the temperature of the apartment suddenly felt too hot, and the endless stream of comments about his recent match had his palms sweating while he tried to inhale a deep breath. fuck it was too difficult to even breathe. it felt like someone or something was stepping on his chest, like his lungs were being crushed.

where were you? where were you? where were you?

he felt like his legs could give out at any second the more he paced, fingers weaving through his dark hair in an attempt to try and ground himself but nothing seemed to work. was this finally his breaking point? fuck why did it feel like he was having a heart attack? why did it feel like his whole being was going to explode? just before he feels like his heart was going to rip from his chest cavity he felt it—no, he smelt it.

the heady fragrance of warmth and cinnamon, spiced gourmand was burned deep into the membrane of his soul as the familiar scent eased his nostrils, a soothing balm that allowed him to focus on nothing but you. his body slumps as tension melts away from his muscles like fleeting, melted sugar. his safe space was here.

he peers down to look at you, blinking away the dark spots that clouded his eyes like broken curtains as you swiftly lead him to the couch. did you just get home? he doesn't bother to ask when he already feels his shoulders relax, your hands slithering to the back of his head as you gently—silently press his ear to your chest so he can hear the rhythmic thumpthumpthump of your heart, the organ pumping you full of life.

now that he's calmed down and he's broken free of the chains of doubt that haunted his being, you were the only thing he wanted to capture, get his senses to hold onto you in a vice-like grip. your soft words of comfort, an anchored thumb lifting to stroke a silken touch to his cheek that tickled his skin, and hands that cradled his head to your chest in a reassuring embrace had his voice cracking with drops of distress.

“is that you bambi?” his words were hushed, whispered into the still air as he can finally feel whole again. breath slowing, heart slowing into a calming rhythm. you move a hand from the back of his head to cradle his cheek, lightly tilting his head up so that you can lean down and boop your noses together. an act that you two normally did to establish that the other wanted their attention. the confirmation that it was no one else but you, forces him to bring his body back into reality, his baby blue's glimmering with unshed tears that overflow from behind his eyes. his hands shakily rest onto the small of your back, fisting your sweater as the material spills out from in between his fingers.

“just me yoichi, no one else but me.”

solace. that was what it all was to him. silent solace where you stood in between the lines of heaven and earth for him when he felt like they were too blurred, grounding not only him but you. he couldn't bear to imagine the fear and uncertainty you must feel when he gets like this.

wasn't he a burden? what if all of this amounts to nothing and you’re just wasting your time on his fickle heart and soul, no one else seems to really believe in him… not understanding the sheer weight his shoulders now bear. why… why are you staying with him? he didn't even manage to let another doubt slip from his lips again before you shush him gently, cradling him close as you bury your face into the soft tufts of his hair, desperate for him to know–to feel that you would never once, and never will, think so lowly of him. you understood him, he needn't explain any further.

you both stay curled up against each other for what seemed like hours, the act of staying so close to one another while the both of you lay your burdens to one another, was similar to the act of two cats licking each other’s wounds, finding solace and interlacing fingers to create a silent promise.

you are mine, and i am yours. i’m with you because no one else makes sense.

now, to answer yuki's question,

isagi was undoubtedly a good boyfriend to you, but it was you that stayed with him and taught him that it was okay to be afraid. he wouldn't have to worry about falling into the dark tunnels of his burdens now that he knows you would be right there to tug him back into the light. and that was more than enough. all you had to do was stay.

[i23kazu]

MEOW MEOW BARK MEOW !

characters. xiao diluc childe alhaitham wriothesley neuvillette x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff. an. oops! they're now all... catboys? and a puppyboy? /nsex | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

i- how- what even?! there's really nothing much to say – it's obvious enough with that crimson blush on his face that xiao just wants to bury himself in a hole and never be seen again. your boyfriend now has sprouted a tail, as well as kitty ears.. and halloween didn't come early, either. he's the cutest thing, though, and you just want to squish him against your cheek! xiao is still his regular size, and he still absolutely adores the warmth of your touch – as much as he pretends to not need it.

diluc

diluc is more embarrassed than anything. brownish red kitty ears, as well as a tail that just... couldn't be hidden in his trousers?! how was he supposed to show up to his business meeting that day? okay, maybe a sulk and a pout creeps onto his face... he definitely tries to hide it from you though. diluc definitely doesn't step out of the ragnvindr manor at all for a few days... and he definitely wears a hat wherever he goes, until he turns back to normal. please make sure to take lots of pictures.

childe

to be honest... he actually doesn't hate it. sure, it's definitely a surprise – but is it really so bad if it brings a smile to your face? you absolutely love stroking his tail and petting his ears. he purrs, grinning and burying his head in your neck, and still rubbing against you. you're lucky that he doesn't actually have cat fur .... it might take forever to remove it at the rate that childe was rubbing his head against you.

alhaitham

alhaitham is more so annoyed by it ... it's definitely an inconvenience – he gets more stares on the street. sure, he already got stares due to his position, but because of the newly grown cat ears? and tail? even the children are laughing. his reputation ruined. life goes on for alhaitham, and he buries his head in a book instead. yes, he's in denial. please make sure to take lots of pictures, because when he's back to normal? alhaitham will definitely take a sip of his tea and straight facedly tell you that whatever that was, it didn't happen.

wriothesley

make way, for wriothesley has puppy features! i think he'd grin through it all, even if that ... smile, seems a little forced. im sure he's not too happy about it, but he's too cute for you to tell him that it'll be over soon (honestly? you secretly hope it'll last longer.) once, wriothesley caught you staring, flashing a grin and telling you to take a picture – it'll last longer. he gets over the fact of having these extra add-ons pretty quickly, and instead flaunts it and teases you with them.

neuvillette

ohhhh. your dearest neuvillette is embarrassed to no end. for the first time in his humanhood, he contemplates putting off a court trial... but alas, he can't. furina has teased him mercilessly enough for the new cat ears and the.. uh, tail that he's grown overnight. needless to say, neuvillette was blushing pink when he woke up and found himself like this. please pet him all you can though – it's no surprise that neuvillette is just waiting for this to be over – even though it brings a smile to your face.

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @adeptuscharm @diorlumx @vennnnn-diagram @ryuryuryuyurboat @yuminako @st0pthatsgay @aqualesha @sixtynintharchon @supernova25 @kunikuda-simp @starglitterz (send ask/comment to be added to taglist)

reblogs w/ tags & comments help me lots !!! if you liked this and would like to support me, please consider dropping me a follow as well :-) they all go a long way!

[hunterrrs]

photos from here, I NEED FOOTAGE OF THIS. also this article is a great read. he’s invited some families who lost their homes in the halifax fires to practice:

By the time you read this, Pittsburgh Penguins players will have munched on the pudding known as haggis, made from the livers, hearts and lungs of sheep. And learned how to shuck oysters, in all their slimy, gooey glory.

All courtesy of Sidney Crosby, the Pittsburgh captain, who brought team building to an entirely new level on Saturday. From the moment months ago that he learned the Penguins would be playing here, Crosby was stoked. A proud native of Cole Harbour, 10 miles from Halifax, the 36-year-old began planning out his transformation from NHL star to tour guide.

“I think just the feel of it, the people, and to see the excitement for the game,” Crosby said Friday. “And just to get around the city a little bit, those types of things.

“It’s somewhere that I’m really proud of, and I hope everyone enjoys themselves there.”

In order to do that, he set something up with a unique Maritime flavor. Welcome to “The Amazing Race: Crosby Edition.”

“When Sidney found out the team was coming here, he wanted to find a fun way to celebrate his hometown with his teammates and educate them on why it’s such a special place,” his father, Troy, said.

He seems to have done exactly that.

After a morning of golf Saturday, the unsuspecting Penguins set out on an “Amazing Race”-like scavenger-hunt competition that would take them through the streets of Cole Harbour, Dartmouth and downtown Halifax, and across Halifax Harbour on a ferry.

Under the format, the players were divided into teams. They were given instructions of where to go, what venues to visit and what tasks they were to do (e.g., eating haggis, shucking oysters), all while going up against the clock.

The instructions came on laminated cards featuring the Penguins logo and a “Welcome to Cole Harbour” greeting.

The message on one of the cards read, “Every player has to shuck two oysters and eat them or have a teammate eat them on their behalf. Careful with that knife, and don’t break any shells!”

Crosby enlisted the help of Paul Mason, one of his baseball and minor hockey coaches, to help plan the event. Mason was paramount in setting up the three Cole Harbour Stanley Cup celebrations in Crosby’s honor, and No. 87 didn’t hesitate when it came to the perfect person to set up this event.

“In organizing this, when he talked to me about it, he wants this entire weekend to be pretty special for the community, for his teammates, for everyone around him,” Mason said. “You can sense how much these few days mean to him. You could sense his anticipation for months.”

Mason said that even though Crosby is the host for his teammates this weekend, he’s going to try to win everything: golf, the scavenger hunt, the preseason game Monday, you name it.

“He’s competitive at everything, even as a little kid when I was coaching him,” Mason said. “And that hasn’t changed.

“When the NHL was shut down during COVID, his dad Troy and I played Sidney and one of his friends in a golf match. They should have won, but somehow we did. He didn’t accept that. He said it was two out of three. When we won the second one he said it was three out of five. We ended up playing seven of them. The seventh one was in December with snow on the ground. They won that one to take the series 4-3. Suddenly that was acceptable because they’d won.

“Once they’d finally won, it was over,” Mason said with a laugh.

During some of those summers, Greenwood has helped organize some of the offseason skates featuring Crosby, MacKinnon and Marchand at a local arena. The competitiveness gets intense at times, something Greenwood said helps all three drive each other.

“Yeah, they’re friends,” he said. “But when they start playing against each other at times, you’d never know it. They want to beat one another at any and all costs.

“You can see how that drive, that determination, that win-at-all-costs attitude rubs off on some of the younger guys.”

Count Drake Batherson as one of them. The 25-year-old Senators forward grew up in New Minas, 50 miles northwest of Halifax, and has been training during the offseason with Crosby, Marchand and MacKinnon since 2019. He calls those workouts “one of my favorite times of the year.”

As such, he’s looking forward to facing Crosby and the Penguins in Halifax on Monday.

“I've still got posters of the Penguins and Sid on my wall at my parents' house, so it's pretty fun now that me and Sid have built a relationship and we're buddies," Batherson said. "It's pretty cool looking back on it.”

It was a tough spring and summer for Nova Scotia.

In late May and early June, wildfires raged through the outskirts of Halifax and throughout the province. More than 16,000 people were forced to evacuate as a result, many eventually returning to find their homes were nothing more than heaps of smoldering ashes.

Less than two months later, the area was hit with record rainfall that caused historic flooding. Water did seep into Crosby’s home, though to nowhere near the extent of some others where people pretty much lost everything.

“The area has been through a lot,” he said. “But the great thing about some of these communities, and the area in general, is that everyone sticks together and everyone’s willing to help each other.

“I think when you’ve seen adverse times here over the years, you’ve seen people come together more and more. And I think we take a lot of pride in that here. The fact that people know they can depend on each other is huge. I think we’ve shown that time and time again, and there’s pride that comes with that.”

Crosby is doing his part to teach local kids exactly that.

On Sunday, the Penguins will hold a practice at Cole Harbour Place. Hundreds of children from the local minor hockey systems have been invited to attend and take part in a Q&A session with some Pittsburgh players and, with a select few kids getting to go on the ice with them.

Part of that group will be kids from minor hockey whose families lost their homes in the fires. Crosby specifically wanted them to attend, with Mason helping to make it happen. Given the trauma they and their families have gone through, it is Crosby’s way of trying to brighten up their lives, even if it’s just for one afternoon.

“That’s Sid, right?” Greenwood said. “He’s going to have an impact on these kids, both on the ice and off.”

He already has.

In 2009, Crosby established the Sidney Crosby Foundation, an organization that improves the lives of children who are sick or struggling. More recently, Crosby and several foundation board members created Nova Scotia Showdown T-shirts heading into the game Monday, with proceeds going to his foundation.

“He’s helping young kids who are going through hard times, and he’s being a role model for young hockey players in the province,” Mason said. “He’s going out of his way to show his Penguins a good time here, and he’s being a great ambassador for the community.”

Greenwood agrees.

“It’s a privilege,” he said, “to say you live in the same place as someone like that.”

[sillyteecup]

The Wrong Way

Roman Reigns x black!o.c

Jey Uso x black!o.c

Chapter 4

Warnings:

18+

Strong language

Misogyny

Mention of sexual assault

Taglist: @wrestlingprincess80 @nbanenefrmdao @vebner37 @theninthwonder @tshepisho @lensilver2 @trentybenty @empressdede @queen-shadow22 @becauseimher @jstarr86 @jaded-human @c-sgolden

A.N: This took me too damn long😭😭in my defense though, school has been drowning me and I've barely had the time to get this done quick enough, but ke...what can be said? Anyway, here is chapter 4 of The Wrong Way. I hope you like it. Enjoy❤️

Lori did not believe in setting expectations for people. As it was, she tried to keep her social interactions with anyone she did not know or trust to a minimal. Being a certified introvert, she thought it to be unrealistic to hold people to any social standards before speaking to them. All expectations bred disappointments as life is fickle. Human beings weren't nearly as fickle as life, but they could never be the exception to the rule.

All of that to say, she didn't know what to expect from the Tribal Prince Jey, as the first they met he grinned at her as though she were a piece of meat, and then the second time he glared at her like a foe. Now they were seated opposite each other in the matte black suv that Paul assigned to them, and he still had a scowl on his face.

"Have we met perhaps?" Lori questioned, breaking the heavy silence.

Jey tilted his head, features dancing between confusion and wondering if she was just stupid. "What?" he asked.

"Well you've been glaring at me since I landed, so I couldn't help but wonder if we had crossed paths and I happened to have wronged you by chance," she said indignantly, her irritation at his current expression slowly boiling.

"You're one to talk, when you don't look like the happiest trooper yourself," Jey said evenly, trying to keep an iron grip on his temper.

"Well I'm sure you can agree that there is nothing to be happy about as it stands," Lori pointed out bitterly.

Jey's face scrunched up in mild annoyance. "Yet you asked to ride with me. And for what? So you can shit on me for not acting like everything is sunshine and rainbows?" Jey spat, getting angrier by the sexond.

"I asked for you to accompany me so that we could perhaps get to know each other and maybe figure out a way to make this work, not have you sit there pouting like some petulant child who was denied pudding after dinner!" Lori hissed, finally losing her temper.

She watched as Tribal Prince Jey sat in his seat, jaw clenching as he likely fought the urge to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze till she was dead. If only he knew that she had the same thoughts swimming around her mind.

"Says the immature little bitch that threw a tantrum in the middle of a meeting because things weren't going her way," Jey said venomously.

"Tribal Prince Jey I assure you that while I respect your royal standing, I cannot allow you to call me out of my name. I shall hold my tongue because I was raised to be a respectable young lady, but-" she had begun to rant before being cut off by a mirthles chuckle from Jey.

"Respectable? Girl you a whole ass ho that runs around serving up pussy to every man that smiles at you," he said maliciously.

At this, Lori's heart stopped. Her hands began to tremble as tears threatened to spill form her eyes. She mentally condemned her father to hell for the way he painted the loss of her virginity as her being promiscuous. She had always rued the day she trusted him to understand and empathize with her for what actually happened that night. But now, at this very moment, she hated him for this false portrait he had sold of her to this family. He threw her trauma like a piece of raw meat into a den of lions. One day, he would pay.

"You do not know anything about me," she said, tone lowering as she seethed in rage.

There was another one of those mirthles laughs. "I don't need to. And frankly, I don't want to. Just 'cause we engaged, don't mean I need to coddle your feelings or be your friend or whatever the fuck you were hoping to achieve here!"

Lori bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from speaking out of line. Just because he was an insulant fool, it did not mean she had to stoop this level down in hell to defend herself. She was a woman of honor and dignity; there was no place in her mind that was reserved for engaging in petty spats with an individual such as Tribal Prince Jey.

"If that is what you so wish, then very well," she said evenly, marking him as dead to her.

No one could say she did not try.

➽──────────────❥

Roman, Paul and Sami arrived at the family mansion, or "the palace" as they usually called it, to find Miss Loreal Moore with her maidens, and Jey waiting for them. While the maidens each took in the courtyard with awe, Jey and his fiancé seemed disgruntled.

"Damnit," Roman whispered to himself. Even after the clear warning he had given Jey, his cousin did not cooperate. Roman could not let his incompetence slide as it would set a bad example to his brothers and the rest of their cousins. But he would deal with that later.

"The lady looks unhappy, my Tribal Chief," Paul pointed out, only adding to the grating of Roman's nerves.

"Wiseman, please tell me something. Do I look blind maybe?" Roman questioned him sarcastically, to which he shook his head rapidly while stammering for an answer.

"N-no, never my-my Tribal Chief. Your eyesight is absolutely perfect. 20/20 vision I would say-" Paul rambled, attempting to calm Roman down before he angered him even further.

"Then what made you feel the need to point out something that I can so obviously fucking see?" Roman said through gritted teeth. Everybody just seemed keen on trying his patience today and he couldn't understand why.

"I apologize my tribal Chief. But, may I ask, are there any plans by chance that the Tribal Chief may have to sway the lady in our favor?" Paul genuinely asked. If there was one thing Roman appreciated about his Wiseman, it was his dedication to the family. However Roman couldn't let his real plans be known, as one of the pieces to his little chess game was in the front seat.

"The best we can do right now is be hospitable. Show her that she's in the right place," Roman said before flashing a smile at Sami through the rearview mirror. "Ain't that right Sami?" he asked Sami in what has half a joke and half a threat.

Sami caught onto this and his lips curled up nervously. "Yes my Tribal Chief, definitely," he laughed nervously, earning a pat on the shoulder from Roman.

"Wiseman, get my door," Roman commanded while keeping his eyes on Sami. The moment Paul left the car, Roman leaned in to whisper into Sami's ear. "You and Miss Loreal Moore friends, Sami?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"She's been very kind to me my Tribal Chief," was all Sami said.

"I hope you've been returning the energy. After all, she might need a new friend around here," Roman whispered, sounding genuinely concerned for the lady.

"Oh, yes definitely, my Tribal Chief. I have shown Miss Loreal Moore nothing but kindness and I would be happy to be her friend if she allowed it," Sami rambled nervously. Roman moved back and smiled.

"Good, good. You're a good man Sami," he said, ending the conversation right before Paul finished announcing his presence and opened his door.

Right as he stepped out, Ms Loreal Moore's sharp gaze shot into his direction. "Miss Loreal Moore, you seem displeased-" Roman began to say, being cut off by his cousin's fiancé.

"I wish to go home. Now," she stated, her voice trembling as she struggled to hold it together.

Roman was taken aback by her demand. Her tone sounded to him like she had likely been angered or triggered by something Jey said. His neutral gaze quickly shifted into questioning glare towards Jey, who only scowled and turned away.

"I'm sure that whatever that happened to to make you wanna do that can be fixed. I don't know you well but you seem like a smart, mature and level headed woman. So let's just-" Roman began to say to calm her down only it be interrupted again. Which was beginning to get on his nerves.

"That thing you just did; attempting to soothe my ego to gaslight me into agreeing with whatever" solution" you were going to come up with? I hate it. It is an insult to my intelligence. And from what I can see, this family seems to be built on the foundation of insulting those they feel are lesser beings to them! I am by no means a fool! I know why that-" she took a breath to control herself mid-rant before continuing.

"I know why my father sold me to you people. I did not expect to be treated kindly or for this to be a fairytale of sorts, hell I did not even expect to be treated with integrity. But what I cannot take is being refferred to by obscene words, and then having my intelligence insulted less than 4 minutes later. If this is how it is to carry on going forward, then I would rather you put me on the next flight back to my home, so that I may live out the rest of my days in unmarried bliss," she finally finished before letting out a heavy exhale.

Roman clenched his jaw and nodded. He began to rethink every time he said Naomi was too stubborn for her own good. Compared to Miss Loreal Moore, Naomi was child's play. Even though she always gently kept them grounded, she had never outright called them out on their bullshit. Let alone on her first day on the island. As much as Roman appreciated this woman's strength, he also understood that she was going to be a nasty piece of work to mould into their image. Yet he found himself enticed by the challenge. Clearly he would have to break her and rebuild her in an image he saw fit. And one thing about Roman? He enjoyed playing God. But he would have to be smart about this. She had already seen through his first trick, which to be fair he hadn't even thought was one to begin with. He was just used to solving problems like that. Nevertheless, he was going to have to get far smarter than he ever had.

"I see. Wiseman, show them to their rooms. They've all had a pretty long day and are in no state to travel right now," he commanded, noticing the storm grow in Miss Loreal's eyes.

"Miss Loreal Moore, I shall speak with you tomorrow morning at 07:00 once you've had enough sleep," he added, hoping to quell her still rising temper.

Her eyes narrowed as she bit the inside of her cheek. It was as if she had realized that now that Roman had made his choice, there was no arguing. At least she held authority to a high regard to some extent.

➽──────────────❥

Skin illuminated by the sun rising, Lori took in the appearance of her room. The walls were a dull dull beige that contrasted poorly with the dark oak doors and large, arched windows. The curtains were a glaringly bright red, an irritating sight that drove Lori to open the curtains at the crack of dawn. They with the bedding sets and the velvet couch on the other end of the room. It was big, more spacious than the one back home. She hadn't bothered to check the size of the closet as she had no intentions staying long. The carpet and sheets were black, along with the blackwood vanity set. The whole room was dreadful.

And so was this family. Lori's mind had been flooded with predictions of how the Tribal Chief would try to coax her into staying. Having caught on to his tactic yesterday and with the understanding of the weight this marriage holds, she figured that Tribal Chief Roman would likely attempt slither his way into her mind to convince her that all of this was worth it in the end.

And maybe it was, but a few words dipped in caramel would not suffice in proving that to Lori. She glanced at the huge round clock on the wall next to the bathroom door, 05:30. Her maidens had insisted on making sure that they were at her side by five o'clock sharp, however Lori resisted. Insisting that she would much prefer if for the first time in a very long time, they rested. They deserved it. And her parents were not there to tell them otherwise.

After bathing and moisturising in complete solitude for the first time since she was born, she took the long-sleeved cotton sundress that. Minerva had picked out and ironed for her, and put it on. Lori then moved to sit by her vanity and frowned. She had never done her own hair before, and now with the bonnet covering her braided hair, the lack of experience had come back to bite her in the ass. From what she had observed in Willow doing her hair, her long, voluminous afro was no easy feat when it came to styling.

What if I just woke Willow up to help with my hair, then immediately after, she goes back to sleep? That would not be cruel would it?

Her pondering of her dilemma was interrupted by a knock on the door. Confused, Lori checked the time again, 06:30. Could the girls already be awake? She stood up from the stool and cautiously made her way to the door. The knock sounded again, right as her hand had touched the handle. Finally she opened, and on the other side was the last person she had expected to see.

"Sami? What are you going here so early?" she asked him. As nice as he was, and as much as she planned to utilise him if things went south, Lori was still guarded when faced with all the members of the Bloodline. After all, who was to say it wasn't an act?

He stook tall in her doorway with a boyish grin. He sported a black Nike t-shirt and sweats with sneakers to complete the ensemble. "Good morning Lori! Tribal Chief said I should swing by and check if you're ready," he explained cheerfully. His grin however faltered when he took note of the bonnet.

"What?" Lori said, noticing the change in expression. Sami grimaced in response and gestured for her to let him in. Hesitantly, Lori stepped to the side only for Sami to usher her back to the vanity. "Sami what is the meaning of this?" she demanded only for Sami to gently push her into the chair and smile at her through the mirror.

"You don't know how to do your hair do you?" he asked slyly, causing her eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

"How did you know?" she questioned, wondering what had given her ineptitude away.

"Educated guess," Sami shrugged as his hand hovered over her bonnet. "May I?" he asked, earning a nod from Lori which prompted him to remove it, revealing her hair. "Wow," Sami gasped as he felt the soft texture of her hair.

"What's wrong?" Lori asked in concern, not sure how to take Sam's reaction to her hair.

"Nothing, it's just-I've seen healthy, beautiful long hair before but this? God, your mom must love you," Sami said, still in awe of the sight before him.

Lori just wore a wry smile at the last comment. While she was sure that Sami meant no harm as he was unaware of her relationship with her family, he still struck a nerve. When speaking of her connection with her mother, Sami wasn't asking, but Lori had been for the longest time. And by the looks of it, she would never get an answer.

"Actually, Willow is the mastermind. Before that it was her mother. The two of them have been so kind to my hair in the way they have taken care of it. In fact, I would probably have cut it all off had it not been for them," Lori explained, notes of gratitude in the way she spoke. Willow and Mrs Graham had been taking care of her hair and keeping it healthy since she was born. They were the real heroes.

"Either way, they are hair goddesses," Sami chuckled as he began to braid Lori's hair.

That's when it dawned on her. "You know how to do hair?" she questioned, eyeing Sami suspiciously as his red locks were out and untamed.

"Yup, an old friend taught me," he replied, not seeing the way she looked at him.

"And where is she now?" Lori asked curiously as Sami kept unbraiding and gently detangling.

Sami glanced at her through the mirror, eyes gleaming with a hint of sorrow. "She-uh, got married," he said before clearing his throat. He was then quick to change the subject to how he barely saw the point in styling his anymore since the island's climate was never kind to it. Lori zoned out as he rambled on and on, watching as he carefully brushed and styled her hair into a simple low ponytail with a puff at the bottom, completing the look with sleek baby hairs.

A white man can do my hair better than me? I need to up my game.

Despite the huge favour he had done for her, Lori still couldn't help but be unconvinced. Apart from him, she had met two direct members of the Bloodline, and both of them have proven to be...unappealing for lack of better words. Why would she trust that Sami hadn't had the same ideals indoctrinated in him. After all, as much as he was "an outsider", he had still been there longer than her. And since he did not offer the family prospects of wealth as far as she understood, there had to be another, more sinister reason to keep him around. If only she had thought of this on the plane yesterday.

"Sami, why are you helping me?" Lori asked, her trust issues suddenly flaring up.

"Because you're cool, duh," he replied as if it were obvious.

"Cool?" Lori questioned, unsure what he implied with the term. Her father had always considered that kind of language to be juvenile and forbid it around the house, however Lori had heard it time and again at her old University and during the two years when Lord Byron had allowed her to go to a private high school to graduate instead of finishing with a home school education. Still though, she was not very familiar with the context of the word.

"Y'know, good, nice. Cool," he simply said. Although he was not clear, Lori understood just fine.

"Oh okay. Lovely." If Sami was acting, he sure was doing an amazing job at it. Either way, her oncoming talk with the Tribal Chief would determine whether or not it mattered.

➽──────────────❥

"The Tribal Chief requested that I escort you to his office."

Tribal Chief Roman's office was cold...fitting the stories she had been told of the man who inhabited it. Perhaps it was the intense air conditioning, or maybe it was the lack of a personal touch to it's decor. Either way, apart from the spread out red and black furniture pieces, it was rather dull. Lori doubted he cared to much about the aesthetics anyway.

She had been seated on the black couch situated next to the door, about 5 feet away from his desk where he sat, nose buried in his work. Her eyes followed the clock's hands as time slowly ticked by, foreshadowing her slow and agonising ego death, should she choose to stay here. It had been 3p minutes and the man hadn't said a thing aside from "Have a seat." Part of her felt like there was an angle he was playing at here. A psychological one that she couldn't quite point out. Perhaps he was asserting dominance by making her wait on his time. If that was the case, then the one he had hoped to present would not hold up too well.

Her eyes scanned the bookshelf to her left. The names on the spines of each book caught her by surprise. While some of the books were typical of what was seemingly his nature, such as The Art of War, the others were unbecoming of what she had noted about him so far. Romance novels.

The rest of the titles were in Samoan and Italian, two languages Lori had not an inkling of an idea about. Still though, the very idea that Roman likely not only spoke these languages, but also read them was somewhat attractive. An observation she mentally chastised herself from. The very reason she had let her sights roam around the office was to avoid settling her gaze on him. Lord knows how he would react to his cousin's fiancé staring at him.

Speaking of his cousins, before she slept, Lori had done everything in her power to cleanse her memory of her interaction with Jey yesterday. Better to pretend it never happened than to let it hold power over her. Her logic was faulty, but it worked. But that did not by any means imply that she would be thrilled about being in the same room as him. The last thing Lori wanted was to be executed for murdering her fiancé. Regardless of how satisfying it would be.

"I take it you slept well?" she suddenly heard Tribal Chief Roman say.

Keeping her gaze on the window behind him, she nodded. The room was ugly but the bed was comfortable. "Yes, my Tribal Chief."

"Good. As a future member of this family it is only fitting that the best is what you are offered," he said, causing her to scoff. His gaze narrowed at the action. "Why do you want to leave?" he asked her, tone completely neutral.

"I was quite clear about my feelings yesterday, my Tribal Chief. I do not appreciate being treated like a street urchin by your family," Lori responded coldly.

Tribal Chief Roman placed his forearms on his desk to lean forward. "What did he say to you?" he asked. His voice had dropped to a dangerously low octave that struck a feeling that Lori was not familiar with in her chest. It was a mix of two feelings really; fear that was all but expected, but more surprisingly, yet minimal, lust.

"Things I would rather not repeat," she said.

"Because you're afraid?" he questioned with an arched eyebrow.

"Because I am a lady who refuses to compromise herself by spewing anything unbecoming of me," she retorted with a scoff. Yes, Tribal Chief Roman himself was terrifying, but that was not a sentiment she held towards Jey.

He leaned back into his chair, firm gaze remaining on her. "Whatever it is that he said, does not reflect our views of you. He will be corrected-"

"You mean punished," she commented, cutting into his sentence. She noticed his jaw clench at her interuption and swore she choked on her breath.

"And I will make sure, that nobody else treats you like that again," he finished, patience waning with each word.

"Why go out of your way instead of allowing me to go home?" she questioned, knowing the answer but still wanting him to completely clear up his intentions.

"You said it yourself yesterday. You know why this engagement was arranged; political gain for my family in return of financial gain for yours," he explained with a shrug.

Lori slowly nodded, the sound of the clock ticking re-invading her ears. "Where is he?" she asked. She wasn't sure why she was curious, but she was.

"His house not too far from here. Sami neglected to tell you that you two will not be living together until after your wedding," he explained, causing Lori's eyebrows to shoot to the edge of her hairline.

"How come?"

"Tradition," he stated vaguely. "Some things I have no control over, although something tells me you don't mind," he said, subtly pointing out her already existing grievance with his cousin.

"Do you have control over how often we are to interact?" she asked half-jokingly.

"Don't push it," he responded in a tone similar to hers. "I would advise you not to worry too much about the personal aspects of your engagement. The moment you two are married, you can get your own place nearby and only have to interact during public appearances," he said, tone reverting back to serious.

She fought the urge to ask if that was his arrangement with his wife a she had not seen her yet. Unless of course the divorce rumor was true.

"Until then, I am to stay here with you and Sami?" she inquired.

"Are you comfortable with Sami's presence?" he asked. His omission of her comfort with his own presence did not slide past her though. But she would let it seem as if it had.

"Yes. He is good company," she acknowledged.

"Then he will stay here as well. Anything else?" he asked. An answer immediately came into mind.

"Yes, actually. Could one of your staff perhaps get an interior decorator on the phone?" she requested, taking him aback.

"I do not like how my room looks," she specified, putting him at ease.

"I'll have it arranged as soon as possible. Is that all?"

She nodded wordlessly.

"Good. I'm assuming Sami informed you about today's agenda if you stayed?" Lori shook her head 'no' in response as her features festered into a look of curiosity. Sami must have thought that there was no way in all seven variations of hell she was staying there. Never say never, they say. Tribal Chief Roman ran his hand down his face and sighed, attempting to quell his frustration at Sami omitting this information.

"Today is your welcoming ceremony. The day when you're being introduced to the entire family and our ancestors as Jey's future bride and as a future princess to the people," Roman explained.

Lori's stomach twisted into knots. If there was anything she hated nearly as much as being blindsided to marriage, it was large gatherings and parties. All of those eyes on her, perceiving her always sent her into a spiral. If the very people that conceived her saw her as inadequate, who was to say that these people who did not know her from a table spoon harboured similar sentiments. Not to mention the whispers of gossip that she found mind numbing. A fact that would be hypocritical if Lori herself was a gossip.

She preferred self-preserving journalist anyway.

Nevertheless, she had chosen to stay and become a part of this bloodline that many considered to be of high esteem. Lori had chosen to become Tribal Princess Loreal. No longer Miss Loreal Moore. She would finally be rid of the last tie to her wretched father. If anything, that just sweetens the deal. This ceremony was just the starting point, one she would overcome with poise and grace.

"Is there a specific dress code, my Tribal Chief?"

[neiptune]

hello santa neiptune for your holiday servings i think christmas pudding with either shoyo + a prompt 6 (family invited an old crush/first love to a dinner party) or sunsrin with prompt 19 ("I'm going to buy/make the worst secret Santa gift humanly possible") or atsumu with prompt 13 (neighbourhood festive decoration competition becomes dangerously competitive) smooch smooch smooch smooch

rintaro suna x I'm going to buy the worst secret santa gift humanly possible

“Shut up everyone, it’s time!”, Atsumu’s comically authoritarian tone swallows the chatter, the living room of his apartment growing silent.

“Why can’t we pick who we want to get a gift for?”, Aran grumbles from his end of the couch. The setter frowns.

“Because I think none of you assholes would pick me”.

“Whatever gave that away”, Suna clicks his tongue. A soft, empty stocking collides with his face.

“Yer picking first!”, Atsumu holds the old dunkin donuts box under his nose, shaking it slightly to further shuffle the folded pieces of paper in it.

“I’m going to buy the worst secret santa gift humanly possible”, Rintaro, ever the grinch, grumbles as slender fingers randomly draw a name.

“Rin, you’re supposed to look at it later!”, you lightly elbow him in the ribs but he pulls back, avoiding the jab. The only sign of something flashing across his deadpan features is a slight twitch of the brow as he reads the name he pulled out. Then it’s gone, small piece of paper tucked safely into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Your turn”, Atsumu brings the box to you with a grin. You know he hopes you draw his name, you’re notoriously the best gift giver of the group and he wasn’t exactly ecstatic about the Blue Lock themed calendar Osamu got him the previous year, especially with that insufferable Rin dude occupying the page dedicated to his birth month.

“I hope it’s me”, Osamu crosses his fingers from the other side of the room, where he’s resting his back against the fireplace. You chuckle, keep the small piece of paper in your closed fist as you patiently wait for everyone else to draw their names.

The boys make a whole spectacle out of unfolding the pieces of paper, Atsumu the most teased one between whistles, oohs and ahhs. You make sure not to let the small pang of disappointment shine through your smile: you’re happy it’s Kita, you love Kita. You just would’ve loved for it to be Rin more.

The designated gift exchange day is a week later, right on christmas eve. The anxiety churning in your stomach is suffocating because why would you even get something for him too? All you had to do was pick a nice gift for Shinsuke, the easiest person to please on planet earth. But now there are two extra nicely wrapped presents under the tree in your living room, one of them will make you look like a complete dumbass because there won’t be any logical explanation to justify an additional gift. Atsumu will never shut up about it, like, ever. Fuck.

You’re abruptly pulled away from your thoughts when the doorbell rings, the sound making you jump. Confusion is still written all over your features when you open the door, not expecting any guest or delivery.

“Hey”, Rintaro tosses you a tiny smile to balance the hesitancy out.

“Rin”, surprised, you blink a few times, “you okay?”.

“Yeah. Can I come in?”.

“Of course!”.

He takes off his shoes and slowly steps into your apartment, cheeks unusually flushed courtesy of the cold outside.

“What’s that?”, you curiously peek at the bag he holds in his hand while he walks to your couch and you gingerly trail behind him.

“I’m your secret santa”, he clears his throat, “didn’t wanna give this to you in front of everyone. Don’t make it weird”.

You sit next to him with mirth swarming in stupidly bright eyes. Suna feels his palms getting clammy.

“So you wanted to give me the worst gift humanly possible… early?”.

“Exactly. Here”, he hands you the small paper bag, “you’re welcome”.

“You’re a dick”, you giggle, unable to disguise the affection in your voice.

Inside the bag there are two numbered envelopes. You open the first, smaller one.

“What the…?”, it’s a regular yellow post-it, with a handwritten note.

Congratulations on your hardly earned free time. Make the most of it :)

“Check the other one”, Suna indicates the remaining envelope.

“I’m confused”.

The second gift is… handmade coupons for messy, scribbled options: concert, one meal, roadtrip, win an argument, breakfast.

“You get two coupons. I kinda already have tickets for your favorite band”.

“But”, your throat feels dry, “I don’t… I have to work?”.

“You don’t. I emailed your boss, got you some time off, something you never would’ve done for yourself”, Suna looks away, inscrutable as always. Your heart slams harder against your ribcage.

“Rin”.

He meets your gaze and you offer a smile.

“I got you something too”.

thank you for trusting my writing, hope you enjoy! happy holidays mwah

[cain-speaks]

🍭 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝙏𝙊𝙊𝙏𝙃 🍭 || Macaque x Reader Oneshot

» sweet tooth (cavetown) « 0:45 ─〇───── 4:07

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ This is a oneshot. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader uses she/her and is a cat demon, so she has cat-like features/behaviors! ➤ Described the clothes but tried to keep it simple/vague so ppl could add more details if they'd like! ➤ BRO THIS TOOK SO LONG I'M SORRY. I kinda lost the plot a few times I think,, and I got super into the shadow story,, hope this is good!! Also sorry if I switched tenses at some point, it happens rip. Also also if the kiss scene is bad I'm so sorry, I'm awkward asf LMAO. ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include profanity, a little bit of angst, referenced toxicity, and referenced murder. ➤ Word count: 3,494

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

❝ A sweet tooth for you, I'm wide awake .❞

Your tail vibrates excitedly as the timer goes off, alerting you that the mango pudding is done chilling. Grinning widely, you almost run to your fridge, throwing open the door and crouching to pull the cool dessert out. You take a deep whiff as you wander back to the counter, shutting the fridge door with a bump of your hip. It smells heavily, and an experimental shake of the pan leads you to believe the sweet treat has successfully set.

You set down the mango pudding and turn to the dishes, rinsing them in the sink and leaving them in the basin to be thoroughly cleaned later. As you scratch a particularly stubborn splash of dried pudding from the whisk, you look over at your oven, squinting to read the numbers displayed.

5:47.

"Oh, cow-milk," you hiss under your breath, finishing up with the whisk and nearly tossing it into the basin.

I'm going to be late! you fret as you pull off your apron, throwing it upon the counter as you rush to your bedroom to pull on your outfit: a simple white turtleneck under a soft long-sleeve and high-waisted plaid pants, complemented with long socks and short, buckled heels. Once you finish with your outfit and additional accessories, you grab a basket on your way out of your room and quickly fill it with cutlery, cubed mangoes, sugar, and of course, the pudding.

You pause for a second, ears flicking about as you try to make sure you haven't forgotten anything. Your time is cut short as another alarm sings on your phone, titled Get The Fudge to Mac's!

You squeak, shoving your phone into your pocket and spinning on your heel as you race out of your home, narrowly keeping the basket from slapping against your side.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You're fairly certain the only reason Macaque doesn't snap at you slamming the dojo doors is because he heard you coming.

He's curled up on his couch, a hefty book in his lap—probably about something medicinal or floral if you had to guess. Your eyes flicker to his face, scowling as you see his signature smirk, golden-brown eyes scanning your hunched-over figure in amusement.

"Look what the cat dragged in," purrs the demon.

"You—hah—think you're soooo funny," you grit out, shuffling to the couch with a glare.

"When have I ever been wrong?" Macaque asks.

The monkey slaps his tail across your face before you can recite the "a" portion of your alphabetized list.

"How come you're so late today?" he teases. "Normally you're here before I am."

You roll your eyes and give a half-hearted bite to the demon's tail, barely grazing the fur, but he pulls it away with a narrowed gaze anyway. You give him a dramatically sweet face, fluttering your lashes as you set your basket on the table.

You make a lazy gesture at it. "I made something for us."

"Oh?" Macaque asks, cocking an eyebrow. "How romantic, starlight."

For a split second, you consider letting your embarrassment at the implication get to you. But then you decide if Macaque wants to be a little evil, you may as well join him.

"Only the best for you, moonflower," you coo back, revelling in the way the black-furred monkey's face heats up around his spiked mask. You immediately laugh at his blush, far more elated at your ability to fluster the stoic demon than you think is normal, adoring the way his ears wiggle as though trying to hide his face.

"Laugh it up, kitty," he grumbles, reaching out for the basket.

You lunge forward and smack his hand before his claw tips so much as brush the handles. "Nu-uh! That's for after dinner, loser."

Macaque frowns and squints at you, shaking his hand and blowing on it in classic dramatic theater kid fashion. "What are you, five?"

"Out of five~!" You sing-song, scooping up the basket as you jump to your feet. "Now get cooking, Macaroni."

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

When Macaque announces the food's almost done, you decide to raid his wardrobe for pajamas.

You zoom up the stairs before he can say a word, but to your surprise, he doesn't make so much as a sigh as your thundering footsteps fade into his room.

It's weird. Normally Macaque always whines about you snagging his clothes, complaining about the pastry stains or endless amounts of cat hair that ends up on them—which is a small price to pay when you're constantly making him yummy treats! But tonight he's oddly quiet.

Come to think of it... he's been acting off for a while.

You noticed it last month. Your time spent with the monkey had turned more physical—training, teaching you how to make certain foods, dancing, cuddling. And amongst his standard sarcasm and snark, he was complimenting you a lot more, too. You'd even started finding little trinkets around your house! So unless some other purple-coded weirdo was breaking into your house to leave you jewelry and pretty flowers, it had to be Macaque.

But on the other hand, Macaque seemed to be... distancing himself. A canceled plan here and there, an excuse to leave the room every now and then, a strange new sense of secrecy within the demon, as though he was guarding something from you. As if he was afraid of you coming too close all over again.

It was so confusing. If you allowed yourself to consider that the demon had fallen for you of all people, what were you supposed to make of his behavior? That he hated the idea of loving you so much that he was deciding between making a game of it or completely pushing you away?

The thought strikes you right in the chest, your bottom lip falling victim to your sharp teeth.

Just recently you'd come to terms with just how much you really like the monkey—how much you love the sound of his voice and the way he drags you into trouble and his devotedness to you as a friend. It'd been an earth-shattering realization, really, one that left you tossing and turning in bed and damn near ripping your fur out.

How could you be blamed? Macaque was hardened like stone in the aftermath of his past, resulting in a closed-off and apathetic creature, a lone wolf in spite of his nature. It'd taken so, so much time and patience to get to where you two were now, laughing and poking fun at each other in his dojo, his safespace.

The last thing you want is to lose everything because your silly heart loves tragedies.

"Starlight!" Macaque's sharp call comes from downstairs, making you jump. "The hell are you doing? I said dinner's done!"

"Ack—I'm coming, just a minute!"

You quickly throw on a loose shirt and shorts, struggling a bit with the hole for your tail before finally settling the limb and bounding out of the room. Immediately, an aroma of deliciousness hits your nose. You almost stumble down the stairs due to the distraction, righting yourself with an embarrassed flush (boy, are you glad Macaque didn't see that) and carefully making your way into the kitchen.

Your eyes widen at what you see. A large bowl of chǎofàn sits at the table, neighbored by a plate of tángcù lǐjǐ and another of xiǎolóngbāo. The scent is divine, and you would call the meal a gift from Buddha if it weren't for the smirking demon leaning against the counter.

"Like what you see?" he asks cockily, tail sweeping against the ground in a lazy sway.

"No way you just made all of this!" you exclaim, grinning.

"Maybe I'm just that good," replies the black-furred monkey with a wink, fetching two plates and some silverware out of various cupboards and drawers.

"Not that good," you snort, grabbing your basket from the fridge. "Come on, what's the trick this time, moonflower?"

The demon falls strangely silent at your question. You raise an eyebrow at his back, waiting for a response. Finally, in an uncharacteristically small voice, Macaque says, "I've been preparing."

There's more to it. There's definitely more to it, but you won't push.

You set the basket down on the floor and take the plate held out to you, happily filling it up before moving to your seat. Macaque joins you on the opposite side, silent save for the short scraping sound of silverware against glass. The uncomfortable silence threatens to spoil your appetite, and you spend a few quiet minutes praying that the demon across from you will say something.

"Is it good?"

Thank Buddha, you think, immediately put at ease to hear his voice.

"Duh," you say, swallowing another forkful of delicious food. "Your cooking is some of the best I've ever had."

"Oh really?" Macaque leans forward on his elbows, hands laced under his chin, and you feel your face warm ever-so-slightly. "Then where do I rank, starlight?"

"Top ten at least," you tease, reaching for more chǎofàn. Macaque unlaces a hand to pick up the bowl and pass it to you.

"At least," he chuckles. "Well, eat up. I have a play to put on."

"A play?" You repeat, cheeks round with rice.

Macaque nods. "Yes." Quickly, he adds, "for you."

You very nearly make a quip about the romance of dinner and a show, but seeing his tail tense and thud against the floor makes you reconsider.

Instead, you smile. "I'll be there."

The monkey snorts. "Better be. If you stand me up for rice and chicken, I'll never make it again."

You fake an angry grumble. "Don't you have to go prepare, smart guy?"

He blinks. Once. Twice.

"Oh," he says, simply at first. Then his eyes widen. "Oh, yes! I have to—there are things I have to—I'm going now." Macaque cuts his rambling short and just barely avoids sprinting out of the kitchen like his tail is on fire.

"Don't—" you cringe at the sound of something falling, followed by a quiet yelp. "—hurt yourself on the way out..."

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You sit amongst soft blankets and pillows, tails curled around your knees as you wait for the play to start. The light of Macaque's lantern bathes the dojo in a violet hue, shadows dancing with the sway of the lantern as Macaque gets into position. The monkey's innate shadow powers and connection to the lantern make it easy to manipulate it and the dark for his purposes, so part of you is confused that Macaque settles himself so far away from you. You reason that maybe the demon's just feeling extra dramatic for this story.

Or maybe this is it, you think.

Even if you don't know what that means.

"Welcome viewer, to a shadow play the likes of which have never been seen."

You smile at the signature opening line, a soft purr rumbling in your throat as you listen closely, ears perked in Macaque's direction.

"Here we follow another tale about the tragic Warrior." Macaque's voice reverberates around you, and you watch as a simplified silhouette of hi—ahem, "the warrior" manifests from the shadows. "Though this story is unlike the others—for instead of our Warrior bearing yet another arduous chapter of life, perhaps he has found his happy end.

"Everyone knows the tale of how the Sun came to betray the Moon. But what very few have to come to learn is that it was the moon that brought on such a tragedy. You see, many centuries ago, the Moon could only see their dark side—blemished, indecipherable, and lacking in light. So often the moon thought of their dark side and wept, believing that if it was all they saw, it was all anyone could see. And then the Moon realized something. They were the Sun's only companion, their only friend, so surely, surely, the Sun would give their light to them.

"And at first, the Sun did everything they could to show the Moon just how bright they could be. The Sun taught the Moon everything they knew, and the Moon took that knowledge and taught it to others, becoming a beloved warrior. And when the Moon became the Warrior, they changed the Sun into a Hero—a well-shaped, perfect vessel of holiness and goodness.

"The Sun allowed for this because they loved the Warrior, so they locked themselves within the Hero. And while the Warrior loved the Hero very much, they were so blinded by the love of their light that they didn't see what they were doing to their beloved Sun.

"Years passed and the Warrior had taken almost every bit of sunlight. Only their heart and a small sliver remained, which the Sun branded on to the Hero's golden cudgel and hid beneath stone so the Warrior could not find it. This angered the Warrior, who still could not see what they'd done to the Sun, for they were so hidden within the Hero. He said, "my hero! Why do you hide your light from me? Is it not mine, too? Have I not helped you shine?"

"The Hero replied, "I hide nothing from you, my Warrior, certainly not our light. I simply have no more to give you."

"The Warrior was displeased, and this displeasure, coupled with the dimming Sun, poisoned their light until nothing remained but a thin halo around the two of them.

"This terrified the Warrior—to see that they were so close to becoming the Moon again, so close to being consumed by their dark side, that they demanded the Hero give them their heart. Only this time, the Hero refused.

""You are not a hero," spat the Warrior. "And you are no longer a warrior," whispered the Hero. The Warrior was so angry, so enraged, that they attempted to swallow the Sun itself. They peeled away the Hero's stone body to reveal the blazing heart beneath, fully intent to rob them of every last bit of light they had, even if it meant they'd never shine again.

"The Sun broke free of the Hero's perfect body, and, using the light on the golden cudgel, banished the Warrior to a place of no light. No stars. No song. Only darkness.

"A place where the Warrior and the Moon would blend in perfectly."

While you've never heard the story portrayed this way, you find it heartbreakingly easy to tell he's talking about his death and descent into Diyu. You fiddle with your hands, pressing on the paw pads as you stare, watching the Warrior turn into wisps as a glowing mass of shadows (the Sun?) forms into a tendril and strikes them.

It's almost too much to watch, your brain caught up in what preceded Macaque's death. Is this why he's been so nervous? It would make sense—the version of the tale makes him vulnerable to say the least, and it's oozing with painful, regretful honesty. Macaque may not be a liar, but the truth has never been easy for him.

The scene changes, shifting in a quick montage.

"For centuries, the Warrior rotted in their anger and sorrow. So angry were they that they allowed themselves to be hung from strings like a simple puppet, used as a weapon to harm undeserving victims."

Flashes of burned and otherwise destroyed villages wrap around the dojo, all with a chained Macaque hovering above, eyes burning. The last image you recognize as the Monkie Kid and his group. A shadowy tendril wraps around the kid's limbs, attached to him in a similar way to Macaque's chains. Your stomach twists.

"Even when the Warrior finally forgoed their wrath and reconciled with the Sun, they still could not find it in them to shine. They'd ruined the Moon many years ago, and now the Warrior was ruined, too.

"...or so they thought. One day, the Warrior came across a maiden. She was gentle and wild, comforting and unapologetic, unwavering and bold. She was a river, a storm, a mountain who stood unblinking before the weight of the Warrior's darkness.

"The Warrior thought they were doomed to break her, as they so often did to strong things. But then the Maiden produced a mooncake from her robes, split it in half, and said, "Would you share this treat with me, O' weary Warrior?""

A feminine silhouette appears before the Warrior, dressed in a flowing hanfu and flowers. Most interestingly, the Maiden has tufted ears and a long, fluffy tail just like—

Your face erupts in a shocked blush as understanding dawns on you. The first time you met Macaque, you'd been out selling mooncakes. It'd been a good day, and by the end you had a single treat left, which you fully intended to scarf down while watching the sun set. But then you'd seen Macaque, leaning against a bridge and watching the reflection of the sun in the river, and he just looked so sad, you thought a mooncake would add a little brightness to his face.

A pity cake it might have been, but you think it was one of the best pity cakes you've ever had.

"The Warrior took the Maiden's gift. Together, the two ate at their cakes until they were naught but crumbs and the sun had long set. Before they parted, the Maiden smiled at the Warrior.

"And the Warrior glowed.

"The Warrior glowed so bright that moonlight shown through the cracks in their skin, that stars came down to twinkle in their fur and they could hear the sweetest dreams whispering in their ears, and all they said was "Mooncake Maiden" over and over again, for the Warrior had finally found someone to glow for, not because of."

You almost bust out laughing, a mix of adoration, shock, and amusement bubbling in your chest. "Mooncake Maiden", huh? Maybe you should start a business.

"For weeks, the Warrior and the Maiden continued to meet. The Warrior continued to glow, feeling more and more like the great warrior they once were. They even began to think of themselves as the moon again, not as an imperfect surface, but as a new vast and complicated world, one they wanted to explore by the side of the Maiden. All they had to do was ask her."

The shadows merge into a single ball, gliding towards you and settling before you. The ball reforms, revealing Macaque kneeling in front of you, your hands held gently in his. But what really catches your eye is his glamor—or lack thereof. His six ears, the reason for his namesake, unfurl from his head like flower petals, glowing shades of blue, pink, and purple that illuminate both of your faces. His fangs elongate past his bottom lip and a white halo of fur surrounds his face, shimmering in the gentle light.

His eye, blind though it may be, is milky and spotted like the bright side of the moon and you can't help but think it's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

"And now to discover how this story ends," he says softly.

"Macaque—" you begin, only to fall silent when he squeezes your hands.

"I know I'm not a hero," Macaque says. "I think I might always be a little evil—a trickster, a bit of a thief, a bully every now and then; a shadow of something good. But you make me feel... real. Like I can be something more, something people can love and adore without getting hurt, and I haven't felt that in a long, long time, starlight."

You blink, feeling something wet tease the corner of your eyes. Your heart thumps in your chest, tail unfurling from your knees and reaching out. Macaque meets it halfway and they curl around each other like ribbons.

"I love you," whispers the Six-Eared Macaque. Louder, he says it again, and you shiver when he says your name. "I love you, and if you'll have me, I'll be yours for eternity."

Your mouth feels dry, your body nearly numb with—what, shock? Excitement? Happiness? Exhaustion because you're feeling all the things? Probably.

But still, your heart swells at the confession and your hands slip from his to cradle his face and you say, "I love you too, Macaque."

Macaque grins, eyes shining wetly. His hands go to your cheeks, thumbs brushing under your eyes. His ears flap against your hands for a second, and then he whispers, "can I kiss you?"

Your heart nearly explodes. But you give nothing away as you utter a soft, "yes."

You're not quite sure what to expect when his lips meet yours. Fireworks, or maybe like a puzzle piece is shifting into place. You think you can safely say you feel neither, but you do feel both of your growing smiles, until you're pulling away to laugh and Macaque follows suit.

When your giggles die down, you pet the demon's ears again. "You wanna have dessert now?"

The black-furred monkey huffs, leaning into your touch. "In a minute," he murmurs, and then he's bringing you back to his lips.

❝ I like you—say it back .❞

[mew-ya]

Seriously not even a story cover for the Big Mom Pirates? Instead they are used as punching bags for those awful Vinsmokes (sorry I don't like them). So many cute siblings interactions we could get seriously

Like, why no Katakuri and Pudding interacting?

not gonna lie i was just desperately hoping for a CRUMB of katakuri as it'd been a very long time since he'd appeared in the series, so when those silly cover chapters came out I was screaming and so happy 😭💖 plus it had caesar who i love haha.

I genuinely think the big mom pirates could be their own entire spin off but that might also just be because I think about them almost 24 hours a day...

we'll just have to imagine Kata and Pudding's interactions while we wait and see what happens in the series. 😞 you know they'd find so much common ground if they opened up to each other. mama used them both as tools and manipulated them using their shaky self image. now I wanna do some wholesome art of katakuri and pudding talking about their "monstrous" features 😭

also coping but since we had such a fantastic showing for oven/brulee/katakuri in film red, I'd love to see more charlottes in the next film 💗💗💗

[obeymefanfiction]

Falling for You Part 5

Obey Me! Fanfiction Masterlist

Featuring: Diavolo x Female MC Word Count: 3000 Warnings: Angst SFW Disclaimer: Obey Me! Characters are the property of Solemare

You went to meet Diavolo for lunch after telling Levi where you were going. You’d spent the morning catching up on the video games you two had been neglecting the past week. You knew you’d gotten him to forgive you when he rocked the final level and gave you prompt celebratory high fives.

That was one apology down. Five more to go.

Maybe, while you were out you could pick up a book for Satan and thank you flowers for Asmo? (That dress last night was fantastic!)

Wasn’t there a new pudding out that Beel was dying to try?

You sent a quick message to Belphie and asked. Maybe a pudding party with the twins needed to be your next priority?

Now what should you do for Mammon…?

“You didn’t call.” A familiar voice said stopping you in your tracks. You turned around and looked up into familiar golden eyes. You smiled immediately.

“Oh! Hi Lord Diavolo! Sorry, I didn’t see you! I think I still have game brain from hanging out with Levi this morning.” You blushed. How could you walk past the demon prince on the street?

Well, he was dressed about as casually as you’d ever seen before. A dark t-shirt and blue jeans were uncommon demon prince attire. He definitely pulled it off though.

“Ah, that sounds fun.” Diavolo said returning your smile. He turned to continue walking down the street and you followed him as you conversed. “Was it a game you like?”

“Well, with someone like Levi it is difficult not to like any game he plays. He is just so enthusiastic about them it always makes it fun.” You shrug.

“Ah, I see.” Diavolo nodded then rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, “So, can I assume your talk with Lucifer last night went well then?”

“My what?” You asked. Um… how did he know about that?

“You didn’t call for me, so I assume he didn’t lose his temper over what happened in my study?”

“I didn’t tell him anything that specific, but no he didn’t lose his temper.” You shrug. “Then it was you that told him about this rumor he was concerned about?”

Diavolo dropped his gaze.

“Yes, and I’m sorry. I wanted to give you more warning. Lucifer tends to process things better if he is given a bit of time instead of having them sprung on him.” Diavolo gave you a tentative smile. “I assume you didn’t tell him it was me? He didn’t show up to demand an explanation yet, anyway.”

“No, I didn’t tell him.”

Diavolo nodded. “May I ask what he said when he spoke with you?”

“He just advised me against a human-demon relationship, because they could be dangerous. He said he would prefer I didn’t date a demon, but if it was what I wanted then he would support me. He would just worry about me the entire time. Oh! And if said demon ever did upset me he implied he would be upset too. He suggested I mention that.”

“Did he now?” Diavolo chuckled. His face fairly sparkled when he did. “I admit I’m a bit envious he would say that to you directly. It makes me happy to hear it though.”

Hmmm, Lucifer wasn’t usually open with his emotions. Diavolo must really care about his opinion to react like that.

“I am sorry for how I approached this. I wanted to let him know I like you and give him the chance to accept the idea. Far too often when I ask him for something he just does what I ask.”

You nod unable to help twisting your purse strap around your hands nervously. This certainly wasn’t the conversation he was planning to have over lunch.

“I really want him to be okay with this if—” Diavolo’s face reddened a bit as he broke off. “B-but I’m getting ahead of myself aren’t I. I’m sorry. Can I—can I take you out on a date, _?”

“A date?” You asked stopping in your tracks.

Diavolo took that as a bad sign and began explaining rapidly. “I promise not to make you uncomfortable. I was just hoping you’d give me a chance to explain what happened.”

“I thought we were going to talk about my new student council responsibilities?” You asked feeling tempted to take a step backward.

“There is that, but mostly I just wanted to see you.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans looking self-conscious. “I don’t usually get to see you on weekends, and the thought of saying goodbye to you last night was a bit upsetting. I figured the student council thing would give you an excuse if you didn’t want this to be a date, but a date is what I wanted it to be.”

“You did?” You asked softening a little as your surprise faded.

“Yes.” He gave you a sheepish smile. “I know there are a lot of things I need to explain, and probably a few I need to warn you about. I just hoped that before all of that you could just see me as me for a few minutes. I’ve rarely gone on a date outside of a formal event and I was hoping…”

Had you ever seen him this nervous before? You’d seen him speak to a room full of people, face down Lucifer when he was angry, and waltz through his castle like the Lord or the devildom that

he was. But this…? This was new.

“I was hoping you’d be willing to grant me that at least, if nothing else?” You looked up at him. His kind face and gentle smile were almost pleading.

From the first day you met him you knew he was extraordinary. He was attempting to do something no Demon Lord had done before. Promoting peace throughout the three realms, instigating the exchange program, going out of his way to include participants and allow them to feel welcome. He was truly exceptional for a demon human or angel.

Yet just now he felt much more real and close to you than he ever had before. He wasn’t just someone to admire, he was someone who was concerned about your feelings. He wasn’t pushing you into anything only expressing his own desires. He hadn’t demanded you reciprocate or even explain your own feelings. Still he left no doubt that he cared about what those feelings were.

“I guess… I’m just not certain why you’d want that with me, Lord Diavolo. I’m just an ordinary human, I’ve seen your fan club and I’m certain they—”

“But that’s why you are so incredible! Don’t you see?” Diavolo’s eyes lit up with excitement as he explained. “You treat me just like another demon! You expect me to do the same with you. For example, you weren’t expecting me to take you to “The Fall” today, were you?”

“I—uh—am not really dressed for it.” You blushed. “I guess I didn’t really even think about where we were going. Maybe I should have. You just said to meet you over there and…” You wave back behind you.

“You are killing me with how adorable you are.” He laughed rubbing an exasperated hand through his hair. “Anyone else would expect me to take them to an elite place to eat or at least stop by my castle and have a seven-course meal.”

“They expect that?” You gape up at him. “That is just absolutely ridiculous! Why would they expect that?”

“—and this is exactly why I want to go on a date with you. You expect normal things, not something sensational. Do you have any idea how refreshing that is?”

“I’m sorry I guess I really didn’t, but I still don’t see why you’d find that… do you just like me because I’m a novelty? Because I’m not sure I’m okay with that.” You stop walking again and your gaze drops to your feet.

If that’s how he saw you maybe you should just go. He just said you could talk to him about your student council schedule next week.

“Lord Diavolo, I—”

You broke off when he moved to stand in front of you. His fingertips brushed your cheek as he smoothed a piece of hair away from your face.

“I upset you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I see you as a novelty. To be honest I only thought up a list of all the regular things I’d enjoy doing with you after last night. I was really excited you said you would meet me today. It became quite a long list and… I’m sorry I

got carried away.”

You glance up at him and his expression is so crestfallen you suddenly feel like you should be the one cheering him up.

“I just don’t understand what you’d see in me. I mean it’s obvious to everyone how amazing and attractive you are. I just keep wondering why you’d bother noticing someone like me when you’re…” You motion to him.

It took a moment to realize how surprised he looked. When the shock shifted into a dazzling smile you nearly took a step back.

“You think I’m… really?” A blush burned across his cheeks and he looked at the ground almost bashfully. “I mean I hoped you found me attractive but—hearing you say it is—um. Wow.”

He couldn’t even look at you and he couldn’t stop smiling even though he covered it with one hand.

“Haven’t you had anyone say that before?” You asked wringing you hands in your purse straps again. Was what you said really so surprising?

“Oh sure! But they’re supposed to say things like that to me. They don’t have to mean it though. But you… you’ve never said that about anyone. Not even Lucifer or his brothers. I know you only say what you mean, so I’m just…”

He “knew” that about you? How would he know that?

“Oh! I’m sorry. You embarrassed me and I forgot to answer your question. Why would I notice someone like you? Hmmm…” He folded his arms then tapped his finger at his chin. “Well, hopefully this will help you understand. I don’t know if you knew this, but demons can see souls. And certain souls are more attractive to us than others. Even though we don’t use those skills the way we used to, we still notice when someone has a particularly beautiful soul.”

“So… you like my soul?” You asked feeling more confused.

He nodded, “That’s part of it. I believe the thing that drew me to you as a friend and as a demon is your heart.”

You risked meeting his gaze to see if he was serious. The intense look you saw there made said “heart” flip flop.

“You are always so kind, and it isn’t to gain anything for yourself. Whether it was me or Barbatos asking, you still worked just as hard. Of course, because of that it is difficult for you to recognize your own limits. Still, this past week you were always attempting to be kind to Lucifer and kind to me. You are a rare person, , more rare than you realize.”

He turned to start walking again and you followed. “After I noticed that, I began to notice other things. For example, how pretty your eyes were when you laugh, and how adorable you look when you are asleep. Your hair is so temptingly soft and you walk around with this little bounce in your step when you get excited!”

He smiled as he talked about you and it made you feel a little too warm inside. As though he’d accidentally moved your internal thermometer to high.

“I’ve never really noticed things like that before about others. I try to focus on what support they need, or how grateful I am to have their help. I try to see their strengths and abilities. But with you… I just see a lot more than that. And I can’t seem to stop looking.” He sighed sounding almost self-derogatory. “So, you are not just a novelty, okay? I like who you are. In fact, I like her a lot.”

“I think it is my turn to be a little surprised and embarrassed.” You admit rubbing your knuckles against your burning cheeks.

“Did I go overboard again?” He asked looking worried.

“No, thank you for answering my question. I feel as though I understand you now instead of just feeling confused.”

“Okay, well are you hungry? I haven’t been to Ristorante Six lately and I thought that sounded fun?”

“Yeah, sure!” You replied, almost relieved his enthusiasm had turned to lunch. It was a bit overwhelming when it was completely focused on you.

Diavolo guided you to the five star restaurant. You weren’t quite as comfortable here as at Hell’s kitchen but you felt like he might stand out a little less here. Even if he was dressed casually he was still the demon prince.

Overall lunch went well. He was a bit embarrassed when the hell's mushrooms he shared with you turned out to be a little too hot for you. The pudding you both had for dessert was delicious, however, and you ordered some to take home to Beel and Belphie. 

When you explained to Diavolo about the pudding party he seemed a little disappointed. When you mentioned picking up something for Satan and Asmo too, however he offered to go with you. 

You ended up buying a rare book Diavolo recommended for Satan. Between there and reaching the florist, you also managed to convince him to tell you what your responsibilities would be next week for student council. He was helpful at the florist as well and had quite a bit of fun helping you discover some different sides of the flowers from the devildom.

You were nearly to the street where the two of you had met up earlier, when you remembered the little marble-like object he gave you. "Oh, Diavolo! I needed to give this back to you."

"What do you mean? Why would you give it back?" He asked as you held it out to him.

"Well, because it is really powerful. I don't think I should have something that could summon you like that. What if I accidentally dropped it and you appeared to find me just lounging in my room?" After he mentioned your talk with Lucifer you assumed that was why he gave it to you. In case Lucifer lost his temper.

"I think that sounds amazing! You should do that sometime. I'd love to see your room, especially with you lounging in it." He was practically beaming just talking about it and you were torn between laughing at his reaction and being embarrassed. "Please do that sometime?"

"You mean you want me to use it?" You ask in surprise. 

"Yes, I was pretty disappointed when you didn't call for me last night. But it sounds like you handle the situation with Lucifer on your own, so… Oh! I know! You could drop it at your pudding party tonight. Then I could come." Okay, he was definitely beaming now.

"You want to come?" You asked.

"Are you kidding? It sounds fantastic! Oh!” He noticed your expression and backtracked quickly. “O-of course having me there might make it hard for you to spend time with the twins though? Huh… maybe that isn't the best idea then."

He looked really disappointed, but what he said was true. Having the Lord of the devildom show up would certainly be distracting. That he realized that, however, made you even more sad. 

"What if I save you one of the puddings? Then after Belphie and Beel go to sleep I could go to the planetarium and bring you there? It might be kind of late, but you could still be a part of the party." You suggested hoping it would cheer him up.

"You mean a secret after party? That sounds almost as enticing as the actual party.” His smile reappeared like a flashlight being turned on and off. It made you giggle a little. “Oh, but… would you be okay being alone with me like that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because last time… I think I scared you." He dropped his gaze again looking a bit like a scolded puppy. 

"You certainly surprised me, but I don't think I was scared exactly."

"I can be more careful now, I promise. I didn't really expect to respond that way to you, but now that I know I can keep myself in check." He promised. "I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable around me, __."

"I don't. I just really wasn't expecting you to respond that way to me, either. I mean, I'm just…"

You trail off when he brushes the back of his knuckles across your cheek. You looked up at him to find those golden eyes completely focused on you. 

"You mean that, right? You're not afraid of me?" He asked.

"I mean it." You reply suddenly unable to think of anything else to say. All you could think about was how close he was to you, how warm his fingers were, and how much you liked having him touch your face. 

"You promise you'll call for me, right? Tonight?"

"I promise." You smiled, "Diavolo I-Thanks for lunch and—" You broke off when he made some kind of noise in his throat. It sounded almost like a purr.

"You should say my name like that more. I like it." His tone made you feel like your insides were melting into a puddle. Could humans withstand this amount of heat? Because you were thinking there was cause for concern. 

"Diavolo." You whispered as he drew closer brushing a kiss against your cheek. You turned your face into the kiss and he grew still. Your mouth and his were only centimeters apart. All he had to do was close the distance. You looked up at him hesitantly as his breath brushed against your skin once, twice, and then he finally drew back.

"I need to go now or I'll ruin your plans for tonight." He sighed with a wry smile. "You'll save me one of those puddings? We can share it?"

You nodded, too flustered from that kiss—and the almost kiss—and his proximity to speak. 

"I look forward to seeing you soon then."

[gigimarvels]

OLD POKEMNON GIJINKAS FROM 2023, IM NOW MAKING A NEW THING WITH MOST OF THESE DESIGNS (FEATURING NEW CCHARACTERS) SEE THEIR NEW UPDATED ART!! *this will be a long post* WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF GIJINKAMONS In this world Pokemon have evolved so much they have now taken a human form, Gijinka if you will. This story revolves around a group of gijinkas and some side characters that all reside within Cobblevale City. we follow 6 Individuals who work as one of the general teams for the Legendary Entei who is part of the city's "nursery sector" meet the team

Team leader, Tally-Ho or Tally for short Cetitan Gijinka Age- 32 Nature- Sassy She is very head strong and takes no shit from anyone but enjoys being the Dotting older sister of the group

Tox the second in command and overall "badboy" Toxtricity Gijinka Age- 27 Nature- bold he doesn't like getting wet, so don't rain on his parade has a soft spot for the Talonflame in their group named Ames has a band, enjoys music A LOT

Mochi the youngest member of the team and the silent little sister Pyukumuku Gijinka Age- 20 Nature- Quiet She sees both Tally and Tox as her older siblings, and will protect them with all her might she talks in sign language cause opening her mouth can be catastrophic Graham the Morgrem of the group ate her pudding from the communal fridge 3 years ago and she hasn't let him live that down she loves getting hugs from Ames

Umi the Loud heavy hitter of the group Breloom Gijinka Age- 28 Nature- Hardy Tally's Ride or die, AND LOVES TEASING THE SHIT OUT OF TOX Thinks Graham is a bit of a pretentious ass, but he wears his heart of his sleeve so she deals with it extremely protective of Mochi and Ames (insert they asked for no pickles meme here)

Graham the Shiny of the team Morgrem Gijinka Age- 27 Nature- Impish? Funny his nature says Impish but he acts more bashful when he's out in public? Graham has an everstone on him because he doesn't want to evolve even if it means he will never reach his full potential as a pokemon, he just doesn't want to deal with his families expectations shines in general are because of a virus, they need to use substance packets to keep their daily metabolism from dropping most shinnies don't try to become Arena fighters, but Graham feels he has something to prove he falls hard for a shiny Ribombee who's a receptionist at the battle arena.... "you sure you ain't bashful bruv?"

Finally the last team member and the newest to join Ames Talonflame Gijinka Age- 23 Nature- Jolly she moved to Cobblevale city from her small hometown of Whistleleaf village, she was personally invited by "Uncle" Entei himself she has a secret she can't fully share yet but in due time it will be revealed with her flame body she GIVES THE BEST HUGS, kinda oblivious to Tox's flirting

I'LL SHARE THE SIDE CHARACTERS IN THE NEXT POST!!! BUT HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS FIRST POST ABOUT MY MAIN 6 CHARACTERS!!! this is another side project I'm happy to be working on because honestly i love gijinka designs TO DEATH

[gin110881]

In Another Life, chapter 7, Christmas

If anyone’s interested, here’s a sneak peek at the next chapter—featuring Harry on a rollercoaster of emotions!

--------------------------------------------

Every so often, Harry's gaze drifted across the table to Ginny, seated beside her brother Bill and opposite Emily. Twice, he caught what he thought was her looking back at him, only for her to quickly drop her gaze to her plate the moment their eyes met. He smiled to himself, really enjoying the Boxing Day surrounded by friends.

"When everyone is finished, there will be pudding," Mrs Weasley called and glanced over at Ginny, "Can you please help me, dear?"

Harry's eyes followed Ginny as she helped her mother levitate the dishes into the kitchen. A nudge in the ribs made him turn around and look into the grinning face of his sister.

"What?" he asked, bewildered.

"Nothing," Emily replied, her grin growing even broader.

"Then why did you jab me?" Harry enquired, still confused.

"It's rude to look at a girl's bum," Emily whispered with a grin.

Harry's face turned scarlet. "I…I didn't," he muttered, suddenly realizing he'd done exactly that without even noticing. He'd been staring at Ginny Weasley's bum. Not for the first time. His eyes were darting around to see if anyone else had noticed?

"It's even ruder to lie to your favourite sister." Emily giggled.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Don't you dare tell her," he hissed in a low voice. Hoping to escape the topic, Harry decided to head to the loo, but as he stood up, he bumped right into Ron.

"Sorry. I didn't see you," he muttered, flustered, and took a step aside.

"Merlin, watch out," a voice screeched behind him.

Spinning around, Harry found himself face-to-face with Ginny, who was holding a bowl of cherry sauce - its contents splattered across the front of her dress, particularly on the fabric just below her neckline. His mouth dropped open, and a short, nervous laugh escaped him before he could stop it.

Ginny's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Harry's face turned scarlet. "S-Sorry," he stammered, his throat dry.

"Keep your apology - and your clumsy hands," Ginny snapped, glaring down at the sticky mess. Blinking back tears of frustration, she turned on her heel and stormed upstairs, slamming the half-empty bowl onto the dresser as she went.

Harry stared after her, his stomach twisting in guilt. "Brilliant," he muttered under his breath. "Absolutely brilliant."

[notdiabolika]

A Social Butterfly.

Meeting at the cat cafe.

| Featuring: Kou Mukami & Yui Komori.

[Português]

The doors that lead to our bedrooms have locks. And although not always clean, the hallways are safe. 

The garden is unlike the one, filled with roses, I was used to watering. It instead houses a humble plantation that smells of a vivid mix of the most varied vegetables (and fruits). The kitchen too. It alone could house a family of five.

Or maybe, just four. This place is exactly as the name implies: Mukamis’ Mansion.

— You should thank me for asking you out. — The arrogant words come out with a soft hum, meant as a joke. At least I hope so. — That skin of yours could use some sunlight… — While opening the door for me, Kou gives one of his characteristic smiles. The one everybody knows. 

One of the most popular idols in Japan, from magazines to the streets of the quiet Kanashimashi town. The flushed skin, the slender face adorning blue eyes like the skies, blond hair blowing in the wind, voluminous locks covering the right side of his face. 

Since he likes pink, today he wears a coat with the color arranged in a modern design: fitted and with only two large buttons to close the top part.

— Where are we going? — I ask.

When I compare, the pink of my blouse and the strands of my hair seem to fade next to him…

— Oh, what a silly question! — With an expression of someone who is holding back laughter, he quickens his pace to slide the noisy old gate and, finally, step onto the sidewalk. — Don't be impatient. You're acting like my older brother, always hurrying us up. You'll know when we get there.

The fact is that the atmosphere at home is strange, and that makes me a little scared to walk down the street, like that, without worry.

Ruki burnt the food about three times this week alone. Yuma looks like he slipped his hand and dumped a whole bag of fertilizer on his tomatoes. And Azusa? He insists on cleaning the house alone, he hurts himself way more often than he cleans... 

Out of all the boys, Kou was the one I saw the least daily. Suddenly, he started to dedicate himself twice as much to modeling.

 — I just decided to take you for a walk, masochistic kitten, nothing more... — I cringe with embarrassment at the nickname, some pedestrians staring at us. — Let’s go to a very appropriate place for someone like you… ♥

— Eh— I cover my ear, feeling itchy when his face gets closer to mine. — Don't whisper so close. And… you're making me nervous, saying such things!

— Are you really bothered by so little? — he jokes, putting his arm around my shoulder as we walk. — Isn't that body of yours too tense?

The last thing I want is for any of his fans (or paparazzi) to see us together and jump to weird conclusions! Walking like that, close to him, makes me feel awkward. Maybe it's because of my missteps, or because from afar, we actually look like a couple. 

The walk continues slowly, bringing us closer to a small cafe, far from our part of the neighborhood. Green bricks adorn the windows and the billboard of a smiling pudding-shaped kitten, the windows giving views of the few customers.

— That's... — before I can finish my sentence, he moves his arm away and steps in front. The small bell hanging on the door rings when pushed—

Yes, a traditional atmosphere, complete with the smell of fresh coffee and chocolate cake on the platters carried by the waitresses. However, there was still room for some quirky furniture… Scratching posts, shelves, ladders, toys, and some lined cardboard boxes scattered around the corners, all customized to match the pastel color palette.

— So, did you like it? — he even traces his nails on an empty, more isolated scratching post as we enter. — A shame that the kitten is too big to fit in the toys...

His comment barely reaches my ears — I'm too busy crouching down to pet the gray cat that's come to greet us.

— Wow… — I am enchanted by his way of “greeting”, rubbing himself against our legs before returning to the room. I get distracted enough to say out loud: — It looks like Ruki.

The comment gets a loud laugh from Kou.

— Wow, that needy and clingy lil’ guy? Just like him. — he looks up, narrowing his eyelids until shopping at the top of the highest shelf, where a large orange cat stretches out. — Look, that one looks like Yuma!

Seeing that Kou took it as a joke makes me relieved. I laugh when I notice the similarity.

— Garfield too. — I look at the drawings on the counter, colored, made with chalk. — Oh, there's a kitten in a beret! Just li—

Thum.

We should have realized.

We were blocking the entrance and as a result, our backs were hit by the door. 

— I'm sorry. — Pulling Kou by the hand, I make room for a scared-looking little girl to pass by. — We better get moving…

— Where do you think you're grabbing?

I let go immediately, thinking he would be angry due to his sharp tone. I was wrong. When I turn around, I find the most superb little grin in his smug face.

— How audacious of you, holding the hand of an idol... I'm going to start to think you're wanting something. — His sarcastic laugh infects the air, and he soon drags a chair over for me to sit on. I had my mouth open, trying to find the words to refute him— Come on, ladies first.

The fact is that Kou always seems to have a good answer on the tip of his tongue, it catches me off guard every time. Right when I have an idea of ​​what to reply, another voice emerges.

— Good morning, dear ones. — A nice old lady comes to give us the menu, a sweet smile on her face. — Do you already know what you’re going to ask?

The menu is cute. Full of stickers and—

— Oh yes. — Kou's hand rests on the top of my head, patting me all of a sudden. — My little sister is having her birthday today. I was wondering if you guys could get a free slice of cake.

… What?

— Wait a sec…

— How wonderful, Mr. Kou! — While I look confused, the waitress looks at us with pure affection, like a grandmother, writing something down in her notebook. — Of course, our promotion is always open. Will you want anything else?

I'm pretty sure today isn't my birthday. And I'm not his sister either.

— Let me see… a croissant for both of us and coffee. I can pay for that part. — I stare at the astronaut cat on the menu. He had a face as confused as mine. — Oh, and the piece of strawberry cake for each, for the free birthday bonus, please.

When she leaves, I stare at Kou.

— … What was that?

— Free dessert, girl. The rest is on me.

That doesn't really explain why he called me sister... and judging by his face, I doubt he'll explain anything. So I leave it aside, wanting to avoid a nuisance.

I observe the free movement of the felines, taking the opportunity to fix my curls tangled by the street wind with my fingers. I'm terrible at starting a conversation. Kou, however, resembles a butterfly with it's wings covered in night shadows. I say this because, from the way his leg was shaking under the table, he seemed anxious — different from the charismatic man who had just invented those lies.

— Ah... You've been working a lot lately.

His expression softens when he hears my voice.

— …So you noticed? Hmm. Good to know I'm missed. — Kou also fixed his hair, turning his head to both sides discreetly, before leaning forward on the table: — It's been quite a struggle. If it weren't for my job, I would be without my products right now. 

I confess that I am surprised by this statement. I look closely at his skin, unable to find any detail that suggests the use of makeup. I've never been very good at noticing changes in people's faces.

— Wait, do you wear makeup outside of performances?

— Of course I do. Just today, I was thinking about buying a little makeup kit to test on you... — one of his fingers starts to twirl a wavy strand of mine, close to my cheek. — Although, to make your cheeks red, all it takes is to make you a little nervous and… voilà. Blush is pretty unnecessary.

I notice that, in the middle of his comment, a group of waitresses approaches our table, with two slices of pink cake on a platter: one with a candle and the other without. I realize what's coming before I start.

— Happy birthday! ♪ Happy birthday to you…

Are they singing… happy birthday? It's very quiet so as not to scare the cats, but most people around are staring. And Kou keeps his face intact, smiling as if nothing was wrong.

I feel coerced. I don't know whether to sing along, whether to clap, whether to wait for it to end—

My ears are burning with embarrassment.

— T-thank you... — They put the cake in my face, a sparkling candle blinding my vision. — Thank you, really…

Do they only do this to people who say it's their birthday and it's not? I try to blow out the candle, which doesn't even shake with the wind.

— Let me help you, little sister ♥

That velvety voice of Kou… certainly has a tone of irony! And the way he looks at me with so much enthusiasm makes it worse. I'm being laughed at. With one breath from the vampire, the spark goes out, the brief song coming to an end. 

The waitresses smile, leaving the cake along with the other delicacies Kou ordered by himself on the table.

— Enjoy! — a moment of peace for me to consume my meal after this crazy story. 

I let a relieved sigh roll out of my lips, taking the warm croissant in my hands, taking a bite. It is very soft, buttery and smooth. Just how I like it.

— Aren't you forgetting something, masochistic kitten? You know, the bare minimum…

I wipe my mouth with a napkin that's decorated with cartoonish feline paws, my gaze unable to hide the merely indignant glow that this whole ordeal made me have. In the end, I end up laughing.

— Thank you, Kou…

A break from the chaos at home is welcome. But thinking about it, his presence already makes a lot of… interesting side-effects. 

We spend a pleasant morning, surrounded by boxes and kittens that snuggle in our legs. The food was on point, and the conversations around us made us want to talk to each other too. 

So we did — we talked and had coffee.

Maybe I'm being too tolerant of Kou, however, as I always see him so excited to do things, I find it difficult to deny his desires. Because it's also very difficult to deal with his bad mood.

On days like this, he just takes my arm and I follow him. And we get somewhere.

— Credit, please. — His mood had already improved a little, until it was time to pay the bill.

There was silence, and…

— Card declined.

Kou swallows hard next to me. He gives an embarrassed laugh, even flinching. The final receipt must not have been more than 500 yen.

— Try it again, please…? Haha…

His voice muffles in my ears, just as everything starts to make sense in my head… the extra hours of work, the tension at home— 

Is it possible that the Mukamis… 

Are having financial problems? 

Why didn't any of them tell me? I swore they were mad at me or something. But from Kou's sheer panic, it looks like I was mistaken.

— I-I can pay. — I say, raising my finger. — You took the trouble to prepare all this... the price is just a detail.

His gaze follows me, an astonished face that turns to my desk. I had enough, so I quickly handed over the 500 yen coin and thanked her for the meal, standing up.

He does the same, our chairs clattering.

— You are really as kind as Ruki says... too kind. — Leaning against the table, he tries to suppress another smile. — Most of the girls would be screaming at me to the top of their lungs.

— It's really nothing too serious…

I look up to meet his eyes, noticing a soft red glow behind his bangs. It didn't come from the cheeks.

It was his special power. The iris that reveals the truth.

— No, it's not. — He grabs my shoulders before I can pull away, a mischievous emotion flickering in his eyes. — I think you deserve a reward.

It all happened so quickly, that I could barely notice the blush that spread across my cheekbones, the cause, or even the reason of everything that had happened.

His lips touched mine...

And for a moment, I was taken to the blue sky.

Floating, stupefied, above the cotton clouds that embraced us in that strangely tender moment, as sudden as the breeze.

— You need to be more honest with yourself. You didn’t go out with me because ‘I got a sharp tongue, no. — He caresses my cheek with the tip of his nail. — You came because you like me.

The weight of the world seems to fall on my head. Smug, powerful words that I feared were true.

CLAM!

But I didn't have time to process any of that.

The old lady who served us just dropped an entire plate of sweets. She looked at us in astonishment.

— Y-you… ?

Finally, with Kou's lackey laugh as he pulls me away, I understand the reason for horror.

— Wait! — Before passing through the door, I shout: — NO, WE ARE NOT SIBLINGS!

She's even shaking. Everyone is looking….

— K-Kou!

I don't think I'll ever go out with him again.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Hello, I'm back! This is an old request that was sent to me in April and I'm only posting it now 💖 (punctuality is not my thing.

I wrote this as if Yui had left the Sakamakis' mansion and was starting to adapt to the Mukamis 🫠 I hope it's decent!

Have a nice day ☀️

[paralleljulieverse]

A Milestone in Time: Julie Andrews' 15th Birthday Celebration

In honour of Julie Andrews' birthday on October 1, the Parallel Julieverse takes a nostalgic look back at a festive occasion from her past: her 15th birthday celebration in 1950, featuring a few photos from the party held at The Old Meuse, her childhood home in Walton-on-Thames.

A 15th birthday is a significant coming-of-age milestone in many cultures, marking the transition from childhood to adolescence and the onset of adult responsibilities. For Julie, it was particularly meaningful, as it marked her release from UK juvenile labour laws, allowing her to work freely as an adult. In her memoir, she recounts:

"On October 1, I turned fifteen and was officially freed from the London County Council’s child performer restrictions…To celebrate my ‘liberation,’ Mum threw one of her great parties. There must have been about sixty people in the house. Everybody danced and jitterbugged and had a fine old time" (Andrews, 2008, pp. 128).

Elsewhere in her memoir, Julie describes how her parents' parties were legendary, with friends eagerly anticipating each gathering at The Old Meuse. The evenings typically began with drinks at the bar before moving into the sitting room, where Barbara played the piano and Ted sang, bringing the party to life. Guests danced, sang, and socialised, with Aunty Joan encouraging everyone to join the fun. Between these lively moments, there were quieter intervals for food and tea, before the revelry resumed (Andrews, 2008, pp. 89-90).

One of these "quieter" moments at Julie’s 15th birthday took a sudden, chaotic turn when an intoxicated Ted Andrews made an inappropriate remark. Annoyed by his behaviour, a family friend picked up a large dish of blancmange from the supper table and hurled it at him. As Julie recalls, "Pop ducked in the nick of time, and it hit the wall behind him…There was utter silence in the room as everyone watched the wobbly pink goop slide slowly down the wall…Then everyone began talking at once" (Andrews, 2008, pp. 129). After the mess was cleaned up, the party continued late into the night.

Interestingly, the blancmange story resurfaced three years later in a 1953 news article where it was adapted as a Christmas "anecdote from the stars." In this version, however, Julie was the one throwing the pudding, and the target was a fellow child rather than her stepfather. She writes:

“When I was seven, I had a Christmas children’s party soon after our house had been redecorated. During tea, one of the children annoyed me, so I scooped up a handful of blancmange and threw it at my guest. Of course, it missed and hit the newly-painted wall. Mummy has kept the mark as a souvenir to this day” (cited in Hubbard, 1953, p. 5)

This was likely a bit of PR embellishment, but if it really was another flying blancmange incident, the walls of The Old Meuse must have been a frightful mess!

Either way, Julie's birthday respite was short-lived. By Monday morning, she was back at the BBC's Paris Cinema for rehearsals ahead of that evening’s broadcast of Educating Archie. Two days later, she was on a train to Manchester for a charity concert, before returning to London for another week of shows. Such was the gruelling schedule that young Julie Andrews maintained during these early years.

Happy birthday, Dame Julie! However she chooses to celebrate her 89th year, we hope the festivities are as joyful as ever—and that, this time, the blancmange stays safely on the plate!

Sources:

Andrews, J. (2008). Home: A memoir of my early years. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson.

Hubbard, D. (1953). '"'Anecdotes of the "Stars": When Julie threw the blancmange.” Bristol Evening Post. 24 December: p. 5.

[kirby-the-gorb]

reply roundup!

reminder that there's actual stuff on the patreon once again, link in the pinned post :)

@capitalismdisruptedmybarbeque added an [image description] for blanket, thank you!

also thank you for all the boops, what a good website feature.

@optimus-jetpack asked: What is your favorite Kirby game? Probably asked before but I'm new to Tumblr and I love your drawings

my actual favorite is epic yarn, but if we're talking mainline only it's either crystal shards or forgotten land! I grew up with crystal shards and the design in forgotten land is super charming (as is the design in epic yarn lol). and thank you!

on [do not fuck with me] @nogoinghomegame said: roman reigns

how does it feel to be the funniest person on this website? I still think about this and it's been 2 months.

on [quicksand] @graycoin said: Yeah...that sounds like a rough day. :/ I hope all that leads to something better, at least.

thanks. I'll get the rest of the paperwork turned in this month and then we'll see I guess -n- (and thanks for all your other supportive words too)

on [pudding] @xurkitreeking said: I want to eat your art, i feel like it would make a satisfyingly cronch like one of those puffed air chip

omg that's so nice??? like puffed rice or something yeah, I can totally see what you mean

on [pudding] @ceylonsilvergirl said: I know things like spills are technically so small, but when you’re already at the end of your rope it’s fascinating how something like this can send you into a crying fit. you held it together so well for so long, and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back

ugh yeah sometimes when there's already So Much you just look at it and you're like. haven't I already been through enough. but it's like, kind of a "safe" thing to get upset about? because it's obvious to anyone there that it happened and that it's unambiguously negative, even if it is only minor, and it's also not like you're taking space away from someone else or whatever.

on [reborn] @ceylonsilvergirl said: I’m not allowed to watch any more, after I laughed so hard I gave myself an asthma attack

that's so tragic, this world is in shambles

they also did a delightful [expansion] of [outline] that's just so fun honestly, I love that every single object has the same gormless expression that kirby already had lol

on [bug] @theraphos said: me irl, literally i was about to clean the tub earlier and noticed this baby spider that was seriously just a fuckin. dot. i somehow managed to get it in a cup unharmed

whenever there's a spider in like, the shower, or the sink, I always worry so much about it going unnoticed and getting drowned until I know it's moved somewhere safer (we are a pro-spider household)

on [injection] @fakejtwelve said: I hope new meds work well for you 💜

thank you! so far I feel about as bad as usual except that my nose is finally not congested. which I guess is something. (it usually takes a couple months to really kick in so there is still grounds for hope!)

on [ghost] @11-eyed-rook said: this purple is a good purple thank you

there are many good purples in the world :)

anonymous asked: what is kirby's favorite swear word

honestly I think he's partial to "fuck", it's just got a good arrangement of consonants in it. easy to apply forcefully to a variety of scenarios.

on [eyebrows] @joekingv1 said: *asks baby what is their secret*

they definitely do not have a brown marker hidden behind their back :) don't bother checking you can trust them :)

on [pumpkin] @beardedhandstoadshark said: oh my god. Look at the lad. so round, so happy, so pumped (ha) to be here. no candles in and already glowing. happy halloween to everyone but especially this pumpkin (also as someone who can't cut circles for the life of me, let alone small ones, this seems genuinely impressive)

thanks! tbh my partner just handed me a steak knife and let me go, I smoothed it out some by just kinda like, jamming a finger in there to mush down any particularly jagged parts. it was a small pumpkin which probably helped.

@edgywithaheart asked: opinions on terminalmontages kirbo ?

excellent shape, excellent face. not all the jokes are For Me but clearly others enjoy them.