#look at this fluff ugh

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i wanted to make an alternate more canon-compliant butterfly Howdy... similar but Different! the wings were a pain in my ass!

[chiyoso]

UNDENIED SATISFACTION

g. impact — neuvillette fluff oneshot.

▶SYPNOSIS. after the melusine threats came to a satisfactory conclusion, the iudex became overwhelmed with positive feelings, having you being a reason for one.

▶CONTENT. takes place after neuvillette's story quest, spoiler free, female reader, fluff, no usage of y/n, maybe suggestive, neuvillette crushing on you making him have an existential crisis, reader is a goddamn teasing bastard

“melusines, are such beautiful creatures.”

“...miss kiara, was it?” you call out to the pink melusine, low with admiration.

“that- that's right! you know, you were absolutely close to quoting the iudex just now!” though shy and hesitant, she'd accept your invitation, giving you trust by placing her paw upon your palm.

the iudex huh? “is that right?” the pink melusine's spirits went and above, just inching closer to your welcoming nature, familiar, inviting and familial.

“then, he would already, no doubt be most fond of lovely beings such as you.”

“that would be correct,” deep. you thought upon hearing the voice that answered for the melusine.

you turn towards your shoulder, looking past to see what you had expected to have bland, dark and judge-like qualities, but he was more beautiful than what your mind had conjured.

so dignified, reserved, an elegance you don't see often in high-octane courts, or rather—for where you were hailed from. “ah, and you must be...”

“the subject of your discussion,” he'd answer as you were standing up, turning completely to his direction, letting go of the melusine's paw.

“the chief justice, the court judge of fontai...” his voice trails off, noticing himself about to ramble about while taking in your soft expression.

“forgive me, though given many titles by the people of this land, it would be most natural if you were to addressed me by the name i am known widely for,” so well spoken too.

you closed your eyes briefly, processing the sound that accompanied his words. it was nothing but pleasing to the ears, the same could go for his aesthetics, pleasant, too pleasant for the eyes to witness.

“it's my first,” you take his attention, stealing his glance from the melusine. “to see the iudex personally, and up close to be precise,” the iudex cannot make do with that vague statement, and it was a great pet peeve of his, not able to discern things if vague comments such as this were passed to him with a negative, or positive light.

“ah, so you already know of m—”

you bend a knee slightly, placing a hand towards the center of your chest, lowering your head, with a smile, and with only that, you would capture multiple attention, the hearts and minds of those around the fountaine of lucine.

and if he was able to, let him be apart of the said crowd. stirred with confusion, a steady beat that began to form a rhythm in his chest.

an outsider, both you and him. one was masked, hiding a primordial identity, and the other was presumably new to this land, foreign to dramatic concepts, views and hightened agriculture.

it was a long, long existence. a witness to countless of things, receive endless of things, but never, not once receive this form of respect, this, this very gesture of absolute high regard.

he was no archon, but you would deviate your self preservation to treat him as such?

“please, stand tall,” it was unlike him. you heard a dust of anxiousness, panic, and if this was disarm tactic, to let his guard down, it would be most very effective had it been a different situation.

“there is... absolutely no need of heavy formalities, be most assured, i'm not one to be receiving such a form of praise. the hydro archon, she, herself would be very pleased t—”

“the hydro archon...” you interrupt, now tilting your head up. your gaze, mirroring those that you see in fontaine's citizens, an unfiltered, open reverence only he can witness from afar.

seen only towards focalors.

“the begs a needed question then,” you sigh, eyes narrowed with a subtle disbelief.

“what makes you any lesser or any different than these archons, monsieur neuvillette?” you lower your head again, towards the pavement.

“you judge atrocities, bring out injustice in the form of words, a justice that only resorts to extreme measures if requirements are met—”

“—and unlike a few factions, nations, you continue to progress and maintain order, ordainding the pre-ordained,”

“your order brings out justice in the form of performances, inciting no wars, a form of execution, not by blade—but with immovable conviction,”

“relaying each syllable, sentence, coherent with a pre-determined decision through every, life changing verdict,” you stand up this time, now slowly returning your gaze back up to his, gleaming and determined.

two words of which he will use for the eyes that peer onto his, appraising him, his occupation, his actions that he has continuously, like a ritual, doubted throughout the ages of his longevity.

what is the iudex able to do at the current?

you shower him with words that are hidden as praise, compliments concealed in truths, speaking in familiar terms that reminded him of how a certain individual in the fortress of meropide came to berate—or rather eased his history with.

but to those who are well versed in discerning, to deconstruct letters that form sentences of positive and negative, your truths seemed as if you were declaring, profressing, relaying each act of truth with a voice, identified with nothing but affection.

to who were listening in silence, anyways.

but you would be most in luck, the iudex, being one of many intelligences, his knowledge in emotions, mental subjects, he wouldn't confess that his intellect on matters such as this one, would be on par to his refined, pre-historical wisdom.

and all the great iudex could do was process, process and process, think, think and think, thinking about your words accompanied with a certain tone he hasn't heard from, and processing the feelings of what lies within his mortal body.

“and so i ask again, what makes a difference wi—”

“—the difference... the difference would be,” he tries to interrupt the moment your mouth opens to speak again.

“the answer to your... question,” he hesitates, taking a brief glance towards the sky.

it was thundering.

just like something else underneath his chest.

neuvillette closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, then shortly returning his gaze towards yours, yours that were provoking, just daring him to try to refute your truthful statements.

honest, beautiful statements, the beautiful part he wanted to deny, deny and deny. “i am the chief justice of fontaine, i uphold law, i bring out what is necessary to the land of justice, to lay out the hydro archon's wishes, furina's ideals, it is only—”

“—your duty.” he would straighten himself, a slight disorientation to his pupils from you finishing his sentence. he will never, ever understand how humans are able to anticipate his words, and he will only hope that one day, he will be able to.

“oh, what things have you witness and heard from those that stir around you,” you say softly, with pity, moving towards the silent, little melusine once again, kneeling down as you lay your affections towards the creature, gently taking her paw, having her react positively, child-like.

“what things have you received, to the point where you deny you such deserving words,” the melusine perks up, her eyes glittering, excited towards you. “right!? monsieur neuvillette is so very highly regarded to us melusines!! it is truly absurb for him to not acknowledge our praise!!”

“shh, the iudex stands tall beside us, miss kiara.”

“oh,” you giggle to her sheepish demeanor, cooing her to reassurance, tending, motherly.

neuvillette, silent, glances down to the sight of mortal, and creature. you interacting with the little melusine, addressing her as equal, appreciating the creature's existence with little actions of affections, be it holding both of her hands, the way your eyes sparkle with fascination, sincerity.

“no no, i'm sure the chief justice won't put you in trial because of that,” you whisper, continuing to giggle, cupping the little melusine's furred cheeks.

“but- but i called him absurb!”

“hmm, should i also call him as such to accompany with you?” her eyes glisten with hope, the melusine lunging her little self forwards and tackling you in an embrace, muffling her soft wailing against your chest.

what was it. what is it.

what was the feeling inside his chest.

he didn't hate the feeling, but it wasn't exactly welcomed either. it was a feeling, similar to how you give a little infant the act of shock and joy by playing peek-a-boo with them, or having a sumeru citizen be invited and accepted into the akademiya with unbridled relief, and acceptance.

and all would be accompanied by confusion and fear, like stepping into a new continent, filled with unknown and uncertainty.

neuvillette, reserved, judgemental, and unapproachable. to the naked eye, he is obscure as he is enigmatic, and to the ones that have grown familiar with him outside being a court judge, it was his natural state of self, and it was his job to condemn, for he is judgement himself.

so the contradictions lie within him, feeling this way, letting a strange, external emotion he wasn't accustomed with, threaten his security, just gnawing at the depths towards his vulnerability.

after all, how could he?

how could he ignore pleasant feeling anyways?

the melusine takes a little peep past your shoulder, towards the iudex, and her eyes would widen slightly, witnessing the color of her own fur, mixed in with the fair radiance of his skin.

“t-the iudex,” a small, questioning 'hm?' you replied with, pulling back slightly, seeing the melusine have a constrasting reaction towards something.

your attention would follow where her own went, looking over your shoulder to an unexpected sight. your curious eyes settled quickly over his facial features, the expression he was giving the both of you.

a stoic expression, but with lips slightly parted, trembling, wanting to be pursed and closed, and peculiar, his eyes bore the same direction to yours but it was absent, lost in his own mind, disarrayed with current-like thoughts.

“he- he's coming up with a fever!!” the melusine squeals, assuming, latching onto your leg with you already stood up, and you were correct.

his gaze would remain lowered, unmoving, but what was most endearing was that color that suited his delicate features.

a fever? ��monsieur... neuvillette?” curious, you bend your torso and knees down slightly, looking up to him, a hand swiftly moving the strands of hair to the back of your ear, just tugging it behind.

then the glint in his eyes return from the movement the met his sights, his irises, swiftly taking in a sudden display of your physiq—your eyes.

“i'm- ah,” he coughs into his fist, letting his hand prolong over a part of his face, keeping his blush at bay, attempting to regain composure.

“my sincerest, most wholehearted apologies, to the both of you for my behavior,” you straighten your back, hearing his reply, a hand moving down towards the back of the melusine's head, just easing her.

“don't be, i have that effect on people,” you said eerily, amused, and you don't think it was a fever causing that pretty blush over him right now.

“h-huh?” the melusine looks up to you, confused, mirroring neuvillette's expression as well.

“pay no mind,” you interrupt, glancing briefly between the two, before focusing the the iudex before you.

“are you alright, monsieur neuvillette?” you tilt your chin up only slightly, eyes squinted to his direction, giving him a smile, just giving it your all for it not to curl upwards and become wider, smug like how you were feeling right now.

you just couldn't just let him process anything.

the hydro dragon sovereign, attempting to adjust to your speech patterns, dealing with the certain tone of voice you carried along with that expression of yours, trying to process each word with that came from your mouth.

it was overwhelming, and it was good kind.

“...i will be,” he have to be. he answers after a few moments of silent observation, having trouble keeping his irises still for you.

“mhm?”

...what do you mean, 'mhm'?

did you want him to say more? did you need a longer response? were you expecting more? what were you thinking? why did you suddenly become so much more prettier than you were previously?

what was it that made your gesture of respect more attractive? what was it that was making him eager to receive more from you praise from you?

it was no different to a bow. it was no different to something that was considered as respectful towards a reverent being, but considering your tone, your body language, your demeanor?

he won't allow himself to meet your gaze again.

he can't—because when his eyes reach yours, disorder thrives, increasing his jumbled thoughts, disturbing whatever he was about to say.

disorder being the very thing that he tries with absolutely hardship to avoid for the people of fontaine, for focalors, and soon he would find himself wanting to be in said order. an inevitable order that he will continue to maintain.

at the least right now—attempt to anyways.

“pretty little melusine,” you turn your head, down towards the pink creature, your hand finding solace in her hair of fluff. “ah, y-yes my lady?”

“i'm more than sure that the great chief justice would pardon your comment once you return to your duties,” you catch the brief contact of his eyes from your peripheral upon mention of him again.

“miss kiara, ever so diligent, dutiful, and so high in spirits, why would the monsieur neuvillette offer you an unjust sentence—” your hands move, raising the pink melusine towards the sky, causing her to yelp, a soft giggling following after suit.

“—when the iudex has nothing but love in his eyes for your kind,” his eyes softened at the sight, having you so bliss and carefree, towards something he has strived to honor and protect for several hundred years.

love, was it?

love. is that what he was feeling?

yes? no? was it love? can you call it love? is it related to it? is he capable of something that only strengthens his complexity? he, being an existence already with labored with mystery.

“i- well, you're right—but!” the pink melusine flails in your grasp, squirming to be put down from the growing embarassment she began to have.

“he is still the chief! the iudex!” that's right.

“it- it is only right if i receive the equal amount of justice, calling him a name unbefitting of someone of high status! it is disrespect! it is—”

unbecoming. incomprehensible. complicated.

“—not an issue, nor it is within the scriptures of law, and written code of conduct,” neuvillette takes a step or two forwards to the both of you, a faint, tempted smile almost visible, just teasing the corners of his lips.

“it... is not a crime to formulate an opinion,”

but so are humans, being unable to completely understand themselves.

just like his circumstances.

“miss kiara, let it be known, that no very corners of this land, will ever restrict you and others from expressing thought, the very thing that binds the mortality together, being an aboriginal foundation of... understanding towards one another,” you see a glimmer in his eyes, his stoicism accompanied with a subtle fondness.

“that would be the very definition of unjust itself, something i, the iudex of fontaine, the usurper of order—will not tolerate and stand watch with irreverence,” the melusine grows silent along with you, placing her down carefully, growing steady in her footing.

“you are wonderful,” you break the brief silence with an adoring sigh, soft and tender, causing a minor shudder to the complimented iudex, as if he was experiencing thought and behavioral patterns similarly like a revelation, a discovery.

wonderful.

wonderful? for doing his measly duties? for giving structure to the deconstructed? for pursuing a system of commandments that are naturally acquainted for, in a world where it is needed?

can someone, anyone really call duty, wonderful?

having what was natural for him, being percevied as something close to beauty, and borrowing the pink melusine's words, he would find it absurb.

it was only his duty, he is undeserving, he is only nothing but—“shining,” you add, catching his attention once more.

shining. “...with all due possible and greatest respect, it is only a duty that allows—”

“—let me, allow myself to make this as... monosyllabic as possible,” you interrupt, now striding to him, the sounds of your footing making each thock while you encircle the iudex slowly.

“i do not foster much care, in whatever trifling, innermost matter you have, brewing from within that... well-cared pretty face of yours,” you sigh, stopping just behind the iudex, allowing him to subtly look over his shoulder towards you.

you say that, but you would be lying to yourself if you didn't care completely, seeing that slight disoriented shift, notable in his brows.

“but most beloved chief justice, take into precise consideration, that denying another's thoughts is... close to averting your gaze, feigning ignorance to someone's testimony of you,”

he turns around. panic, panic and panic. “what—”

“i jest,” you clasp your hands together to the side of your face in an instant, humming in delight.

“hmhm, i exaggerate, monsieur neuvillette,” you take in his turbulent expressions with delight, ranging from panicked, to troubled, to confusion?

was it contempt? was it hassling to him? did he not know what to make do of this behavior you were introducing to him?

“pft- i'm sorry—archons pardon my lack of etiquette,” you stifle your soft chuckling with your knuckle over your lips.

“you are as firm as the pillars that holds over multiple architectures within fontaine, it's—”

“it's...” huh? your hearty laughter dies down, both lids parting wide as you witness the iudex's facial features.

“ah,” the word escapes from you from observation of the iudex, his cheeks once again, imitating the color of the melusine, a color more passionate than before, a half-opened gaze struggling to maintain the mutuality of eye contact, having a gloved hand move, knuckles pressed against most of his lips.

with irony, what surprised you was not the unmistakable presence of the red in his face, nor the rattle in his composure—no, it was the the fact that you began to mirror him immediately.

he looked so, so beautiful. and it was enough to shake your core, bringing two hands to your chest, cradling the quickening thump in the center. “i-...” you tease too much, and it was no surprise it would backfire, eventually.

the pink melusine glances between the two of you with great confusion, a worry quickly plaguing her. “this... this fever is contagious!” she blurts out, just loud enough for the people in the sidelines, stirring as slight commotion.

also just enough to snap the both of you back to reality. “no- no, no no,” you say with urgency, kneeling to the pink melusine.

“miss- miss kiara, i think it'd be best if i give the iudex my regards and take my leave,”

the iudex clears his throat, looking away, avoiding your direction—which only results to letting his flushed cheeks, ears, become more visible to you.

it was so red. such a pretty color.

“i hope,” he returns his gaze to yours again, letting you see that polite, yet lively smile, it being the cherry on top to his expression.

“you enjoy your stay within fontaine, my lady,” his simplicity attracts you again, letting you slowly connect your views together again.

“and i am...—thank you, for such kind, and generous words, i would be untruthful, deceiving if i said i didn't quite enjoy your sincerity for me, letting me sit on your throne of recognition, being held in such high, high esteem to you,”

“...is that your way of saying that you wish to hear more from me, monsieur neuvillette?”

“mh,” the lump in his throat doesn't allow him to utter anything in reply, eyes widening in reaction to that tone of teasing again.

you stand up, facing towards him completely once more, your eyes gleaming in delight.

“i would love nothing more.”

after seeing the word building of his story quest, i just hope i delivered the same vibes/speech patterns neuvillette has in this fic...—also yes i was throwing shade abt inazuma war ehe.

reblogs help my audience reach, thank you. dont look at tags.

ⓘ taglist (open) @v3lv3tf0x @wanderingconstellations @ainescribe @teapartyspilled @hitomisuzuya @deathstarlovecraft @sleep-deprivedracoon @ciarchivez @damslettx @serenitiiy @k1an4a @pixieskie @scara6

[quinn-pop]

the sequel to “kirby, i’m poly”

kirby is autistic !! yippee !!!!

[general-dweebous]

Desperately want to attend a formal ball with Gale.

Like a very formal, ballgown movie-type ball. Fantasy ball. I want to be all dressed up in a gorgeous gown and dance and flirt the night away with the wizard of Waterdeep.

And think about it- it would even be infinitely better if he invited you as a plus one of sorts, but didn’t realize how detrimental it would be to his already budding crush on you. Shadowheart warned him that he’s getting in over his head, that he’s setting himself up for weak knees and flushed cheeks, but he thought he could handle it. He’s practically a master of the weave, he can manage one night.

Until he sees you walk in looking like the moon herself decided to enjoy an evening in Waterdeep.

I want this man to be head over heels. I want him to be smitten and not know what to do with himself.

Picture this- dancing with Gale near the end of the night, feeling like you’re the only two in the room. Him pulling you closer whenever the moment allows it. His warm eyes gazing into yours, telling you how lovely you look and how incredible you are, that “you make me forget my goddess”.

How are we not supposed to fall for this man?

Yes I was thinking of enchanted when writing this

[ssentimentals]

dating woozi feels like...

having a steady presence by your side, always. jihoon is your best partner in a sense that you both are equals in the relationships; he's not putting himself above or below you, but stands right beside you, his shoulder brushing yours in a silent 'i'm right next to you, i'm here for you', encouraging you to go ahead and follow your dreams.

(his hands claps yours and you are shy because your palms are all sweaty, but he doesn't care, doesn't let you move your hands away. 'it's worth trying,' he says and you nod, because he's right of course, just like he always is. 'it's better to try and fail than not try at all.'

'my hands are sweaty,' you comment, but he only grips your hands tighter. sighing, you look up, asking in a small voice: 'will you stand next to me? just for a little bit?'

jihoon takes your right hand and presses gentle kiss on your knuckles. 'i'll stand next to you for as long as you want me to.')

jihoon is that practical boyfriend, who doesn't view love as something aerial; no, it's a very real thing for him and as anything real it requires effort to make it work. he's here for the long game, not for the short run; he is more than ready to change something in him if it somehow stops relationships from blooming.

('i don't see you,' you stress out, not having any energy left to shout or make a scene. 'i understand that you are busy but if we both are not going to make time for each other then this thing is not going to work, jihoon, it just won't.'

you are not even angry at this point, just sad. and this sadness fills you up so much that it gets hard to breathe. jihoon sits next to you with a closed off face and you let him overthink it, staying next to him. he cautiously reaches out to you like he's afraid you might slap his hand away; you only smile sadly and let him take your hand in his. your sad smile tugs at his heart and makes him feel even more awful than he already does, but he bears through, knowing he has to make a point here. 'i'm sorry,' he says and you know he means it. 'you are absolutely right and i have no excuse here. i'll make time for us, i promise.'

you sigh. 'i know that work is important-'

'you are more important,' he interrupts, squeezing your hand. 'what we have is more important.' jihoon opens his arms and you fall into them, relishing in his affection. 'i'm so sorry. we won't have talk like this again, i promise.')

he's not exactly 'lovey-dovey' and not big on pda either, but his affection is shown in other ways. jihoon is 'i know your clothing size, your go-to order in any place, your favorite anyone and anything' type of boyfriend and he uses that knowledge very well. his presents and surprises are immaculately crafted for your liking with so much time and effort put into them; he knows you and he'll always try his best for you and he'll go on any lengths to make sure you know it, too.

('oh, our jihoonie hyung is so whipped!' seungkwan hollers and cackles gleefully, when jihoon glares at him. 'but seriously, hyung, how many days you spent preparing all of this? i thought i've seen something like this only in the movies. i never thought you'd be this type of boyfriend, you are so whipped!'

you wrap your arms around jihoon's shoulders, effectively stopping him from going after seungkwan. you kiss both of his red cheeks and smile, looking at him a bit teary-eyed due to the surprise he prepared. 'it's perfect,' you whisper and he softens up, hugging you back. 'thank you.'

he just shakes his head and you know he's about to hit you with his usual 'nothing to thank me for' line, so you quickly tease: 'and? are not gonna say that seungkwan is wrong about you being whipped for me?'

jihoon is blushing, but he shrugs anyway. 'can't say it's wrong when it's right.')

jihoon's love is in those small gestures like blowing on a tea before giving it to you so you won't burn your tongue, quietly putting an umbrella into your bag after checking weather forecast because he knows you always forget to do so, crafting playlists for all types of your moods so you'll have something to listen to from him whenever you want, buying your favorite cookies in bulks and storing them everywhere (his studio, his bedroom, his bag) so you can always have them. jihoon is thinking two steps ahead of your needs, because it's practical and because he loves you.

dating jihoon is like going for a walk in winter - people might think you'll freeze from the seemingly cold weather, but you are dressed up from head to toe in the warmest clothes and wind gently swooshes over cheeks instead of biting into them - it's surprisingly refreshing. jihoon is your partner, he's here to stand next to you through thick and thin, bad and good - he won't drop your hand at the mere sight of the storm, he'll pull you close and mutter 'we'll make it' because there is no other choice for him but to stay with you.

tag list: @pearlygraysky @woozionascooter (let me know if you want to be added)

a/n: ahhh this one is not very poetic but it's very jihoon like for me, so hopefully you'll like it :/ my writing list is here if you want to check out other members as well :) - nini

[fluffy-lovely-clouds]

I made a thing. Don't know if it looks good but I made it anyway

[tetsusgoing]

Kuroo doesn't really understand flowers.

He thinks he knows some flower language — red roses are a famous romantic gesture, yellow flowers can either make someone very happy or very sad, white always represents something good and pure, and lavender roses represent love at first sight (he read that in a magazine once).

But at the end of the day, he is clueless when it comes to picking out flowers that suit the occasion, especially when he's picking out flowers for you.

He doesn't know your favorite flower, and he knows you're fairly passionate about the language of flowers — while he's aware that you wouldn't complain about whatever he gets you, it's a challenge he sets up for himself.

However, he's been in this flower shop for half an hour and, as the marigolds he's looking at start blending into each other, he's rethinking buying flowers. You'd appreciate a simple lunch, wouldn't you? He'd get it from your favorite restaurant and break out the fancy plates and make it look like a scene from a movie. And you'd smile at him like this is a movie and he's luckiest guy in the world.

He's looking absentmindedly at a vase of peonies that sit comfortably on a high shelf, pink and bright, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He's grateful to look at something that isn't a flower even for a few minutes, and he's especially grateful that you're the one calling him.

"Heyyy ~"

Your voice comes through the phone, easy and playful the way it is on affectionate and slow mornings. It's his favorite sound in the world.

"Good afternoon princess, did you just wake up?" He lightly teases as he makes his way to an empty corner in the semi-packed shop so he can have some sort of privacy, a moment of quiet to tease you some more.

"Hey, eleven in the morning on a weekend isn't late," you click your tongue, "it's not my fault you're always up with sun, freak."

He laughs at the way you spit out your insults, like you're trying to hold back a giggle. You couldn't be threatening if you tried.

"Yeah yeah, I'm sure I'm the weird one in this relationship."

"You are." There is shuffling in the background, and he knows you're changing positions in bed the way you do when you're enjoying yourself on a call. "Where are you anyways? You're not really the type to hit it and quit it."

Oh, he knows you're incredibly proud of yourself for the terrible joke; and he knows that if he points it out, you'd say you're taking a page from his book.

"I'm getting us coffee because we're all out of capsules." It's partially a lie, but he wouldn't mind stopping by a coffee shop after he's done for you.

"Oh, right. I should really remember to write that on the grocery list. Actually, I'll do it right now, hold on—", the ruffling of bed sheets confirms that you're making your way out of bed and into the kitchen. He can visualize it very clearly, you with your terrible case of bed head— the same one he left you with —and blindingly colorful pajamas making your way to the kitchen.

You bump into your coffee table on the way, and he knows so because you're incredibly dramatic about your "wound".

"Okay, done. No more forgetting coffee capsules."

"Good job soldier."

That elicits a breathy laugh out of you and kuroo is pleased with himself.

"Okay, other than coffee, what else do you want for breakfast?" You're opening cabinets and searching for breakfast tools now.

"Oh, no need for you to make anything. I already made you pancakes while you were busy sleeping."

A moment of silence passes. He assumes you're checking the table for the mentioned pancakes.

"Didn't see those there." Comes your monotone reply.

"What, no 'thank you tetsuro you're the best boyfriend I could ask for'? I'm so unappreciated in this house." He jokes, knowing this will have you smiling on the other end.

And it does. Except, now, you're more awake and you bear the mindset to mess with him.

"If you make it home in less than 20 minutes, you might get some thank you kisses."

And before he has the chance to even blurt out a reply, you hang up.

It's such a classic move from you: dangle the prize in front of him, and then snatch it away. Knowing the challenging glint in his eyes, you were always sure that he would come chasing his prize.

And kuroo never lost, not when it came to you.

So he turns off his phone, quickly places it back in his pocket, and thanks god that the flower shop isn't that far from the apartment the two of you called home.

Now, one last thing keeps him from making his way back home and smothering you to death.

The flowers around him in the shop are all vibrant, and the smell is a reminder of why people are so obsessed with them. He knows you wouldn't mind if he got you a cabbage and wrapped it in a ribbon; he knows it doesn't matter what kind of flower he gets. You'd put it in a vase and water it everyday and kiss his face every time you look at it.

You've always appreciated everything he did. Kuroo didn't have to move a muscle to be showered with your affection, but that's never stopped him from going all out for you. Never stopped him from making a full course breakfast on weekends even when you argued that you wouldn't eat that much anyways. Never stopped him from doing all the house chores when you had an important final coming up even if you weren't that busy. Never stopped him from listening to your favorite songs and memorizing them enough to sing along with you when it plays on the radio.

And it certainly wasn't about to stop him from buying you the prettiest bouquet of flowers that he has ever laid his eyes on.

It sits proudly on a shelf mounted on the wall near the entrance (how did he miss them?), like a jewel on a crown among the other displays of flowers. Its vase, though simple, is a perfect fit; the colors that explode on its petals are mesmerizing in a way that would be disturbed by any other vase.

It was perfect.

You'd put it in a similar vase and place it proudly on your dinning table, like a prize. You'd walk past it all through the day and smile to yourself; you'd think of your boyfriend and his great taste in flowers.

Stargazer lilies, right? Pink and white and speckles of dark red, the kind of flowers you take back home to your girlfriend when you're thinking of proposing to her over breakfast.

[octoooo]

Very bored on the drive back to my university so have some phone doodles

SabiBun au

[beans-and-shet]

I can’t lose you

[zelreedsandwrites]

*aggressively refreshing ao3*

Please please please don’t make me go back to writing please I just wanna read—

[rinzler-smoocher]

Ok but like. What if I'm a little obsessed imagining Rinz initiating the first kiss with Flint & NOT the other way around.

With Rinz carefully covering his hand over Flint's eyes, so he can remove his own helmet without fear of judgment, & with Flint trusting Rinz's intentions are good, not shying away as the program's sickle claws trace lightly over his cheek.

Claws Flint's personally seen maim & mangle, now shockingly nimble for such dangerous impliments...

Flint isn't sure where this is going, but his heartbeat surely spikes as Rinz takes another step toward him, his other hand gently - so gently, it's like it's not even there - hovering at Flint's back, only ever so slightly grasping onto Flint's cape as he forces himself forward to close the distance between user & program.

Flint nearly yelps out at the unexpected movement - having anticipated /something/ was coming, but not a KISS over anything else - but it comes out more like a /moan/, surprising himself even more by just how much he didn't even realize he NEEDED this from Rinz alone.

Claws & hands grasping tightly at one another, a stray jolt of electricity between the two sends Rinz's hand covering Flint's closed eyes curling, cutting a small knick over the swell of Flint's reddened cheek.

It takes just a glance at his user to notice the red liquid gathering along the thin line his claw created that forces Rinz to animalistically act on his impulse, his hunger, his desire, without another thought.

Mind completely empty, just repeating the command of /more more MORE/, Rinz breathlessly pulls away from Flint before immediately delves closer to the user and carefully runs his tongue over the fresh red blood bubbling to the surface of the small incision. In Rinz's desperate hunger for affection, he accidentally lets off a small spark as he repeats the motion, swiping his tongue over Flint's flesh, at once sending chills up & down the user's body & his dyed hair standing sharply on edge.

& all Flint can do is let out a soft "wow" as Rinz's surprisingly gentle lips find his way back to the user's, & willingly allowing himself to be drawn into the monster's hold. All while that electronic purring from deep inside Rinz's core rumbles through both of them, their entire existences shifting in that moment, changing their code & very reason for being. Moving together from survival mode to something so much more...

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Could I request Arthur Conan Doyle x reader, where reader gets to go to his residence (think Atlantis scene where helga goes to invite Milo to see her boss, “I came down the chimney, ho-ho-ho” 😈 ) and even though they work for phantomhive, master ciel just thought Arthur would feel more relaxed if he had arm candy at his event and then also his fav hardworking maid gets a night off to look pretty? Thanks!

first of all omg I LOVE Atlantis~

second of all I love Arthur!!

I hope I did okay hehe! I tried to capture the overall vibe~ <3

When ARTHUR walks through the door to the sitting room in his own home and you light up the candle on the table beside you, a slight pang of guilt hits you. The man looks at you like he’s about to faint dead away ― can you blame him?

What really stops you from feeling too bad is that he recovers fairly quickly. While he still looks as if he’s seen a ghost, all wide eyes and slow movements and face white as a sheet, he doesn’t flee in terror. So you can sit there smiling, batting your eyelashes at him.

Thank you, Master Ciel, you find yourself thinking. This man looks like a very good time.

You cross one leg over the other. That a flash of your skin between your skirts and your stockings might have been briefly visible to Arthur is not your problem… and even less your problem if it flusters him.

“Welcome home, Dr. Doyle! You’re a bit late, you know.” You reach onto the table to lift up his latest, unfinished manuscript. A fingertip carefully flips through the pages as you give Arthur an innocent look. “I got so bored, I started thumbing through your new book.”

He’s a little stiff, taking a couple of hesitant steps toward you. “Yes, well, I was…” The question of why he’s explaining himself to an apparent intruder hits him suddenly, and you can read it on his face that he’s probably wishing he carried a gun. “Wh ― I ― who… who are you?”

Your head cants to one side. “My name is (Name) (Surname). I’ve been sent by Earl Ciel Phantomhive.”

“… I see.” Though, the one of his voice makes it clear he’s trying to put the pieces together. “Earl Ciel Phantomhive, who’s just invited me to a private party for reasons I have yet to fathom?”

“The very same. Thank you very much for receiving me.” You set the manuscript back down, making sure to place it far enough away from the candle that it isn’t in danger of being set aflame.

“Did I have a choice in the matter?” he mutters under his breath before taking a better look at you. You don’t miss the way his cheeks color a light pink. “You know, you could have come to my practice if this was urgent.”

You chuckle. “Goodness, no! It’s not urgent enough to interrupt the work of a doctor treating his patients.”

“In that case,” he sighs, “I would invite you to use the front door next time.”

You wish you could stop the smirk that forms on your lips. “Would I have gotten your undivided attention if I came to call on you the same way everybody else does?”

His eyes look exhausted when he looks at you again. A few more steps, and he offers you a bow of the head. Up close, you can see what he must truly be like. Ciel didn’t give you too many details other than the fact that he’s a doctor and a writer.

The Arthur you see close to you is a tired man, someone just trying to live his life and achieve his dreams. It’s obvious (to you, at least) by what’s written of his current book that he’s frustrated. That he’s at the edge of giving up on his dreams.

That your young master has sent you here has almost nothing to do with the fact that you don’t want Arthur to give up. The world needs dreamers, the world needs writers, the world needs Arthurs. It would be a tragedy if he just abandoned his passion as a waste of time; the next book he writes could become a classic for future generations.

“I suppose not exactly, no.” He takes a seat in the chair on the other side of the table, then runs a hand through his hair. (It looks even better a bit mussed up, in your opinion. There’s something endearing about a handsome man slightly disheveled after a long day of work.) “Alright, well. What does Lord Phantomhive want? And who are you that he’s sent you to chat with me?”

“Why, I’m the young master’s most favorite maid,” you reply with a grin. … Haha, sorry, Mey Rin. “My lord wants to ensure that you’ll be at the party, that’s all. It starts soon. He wasn’t sure if you’d come, what with all the other people in attendance being people you probably don’t know, so… he thought he would sweeten the pot, so to speak.”

With this, you uncross your legs and instead cross your ankles, so that you can lean forward without giving the good doctor an eyeful of your legs. Not that you think he would mind. “Consider me your company for the evening, my dear. Master Ciel seemed to be of the opinion that you might be more comfortable with someone on your arm. I know we don’t know each other, but I promise I’m far less intense than anyone else who will show up. Except, perhaps, for Mr. Phelps, but, well…” You bat your eyelashes again. “I’m a bit prettier than he is. No offense meant to him, of course.”

For a long moment, as Arthur stares at you, he appears for the first time to take in the fact that you’re dressed… elegantly. Whilst it’s not an overly fancy outfit, it’s the finest thing you own, courtesy of your young master. Perfect for a dinner party like the one he’s putting on. The gears turn in Arthur’s head for a bit longer, and he blinks rapidly several times in succession.

“W… wait, but… why in the world would Lord Phantomhive care if I attend this party of his? I-I… I was going to go, and keep to myself, as I don’t want to slight him… I just…” His face flushes again. Notably, he avoids your eyes. “I’m… a nobody. It doesn’t make any sense to me why he desperately wants me in attendance.”

Finally you get to your feet, and within a handful of short steps, you’ve reached to take Arthur’s hands in your own. “You’re not a nobody, Dr. Doyle. I can’t speak for myself as to why my master is so eager to have you present, but I do know that in the five minutes I’ve known you, you’ve got my interest. You never know what’s the next thing to change the world ― it could be an advance in technology or medicine, or it could be a mystery novel from the mind of a brilliant doctor who is the only thing holding himself back.”

You offer a smile before leaning to brush a soft kiss to his cheek. After that, you draw back, pull your hands away, (enjoying the shade of red his face turns), and turn with your back to him. The skirts of your dress billow behind you as you start to walk toward the parlor. “Now, there’s a carriage nearby which brought me, so I’ll have that round front once you’re properly dressed for the occasion. Take as much time as you need, but I should remind you that my master, in contrast to the rest of high society, views lateness as very unfashionable indeed. You don’t want him to be cross with me for not hurrying you along, do you?”

You’ve left Arthur stammering behind you, by the sounds of things. His face is probably just as red as it was a moment ago. “I-I… I, well, no… no, I’ll… I’ll go get myself together…”

“Wonderful. I look forward to continuing to get to know you over the course of the evening, Doctor.” Genuinely, you mean that. This man is not only good-looking, hardworking, and intelligent… he seems to have a kind heart and a creative spirit.

You’re just about to step out when you hear a shy, “(N-Name), wait…!”

You look over your shoulder and blink curiously at Arthur. “Yes?”

“You… you said you read…” Oh. His manuscript is in his hands now. And those eyes… it’s almost as if they’re cutting right into your soul. Like he’s begging you for some kind of reason for him to keep pursuing his writing. Like he wants you to pull him back from the edge of giving up.

You nod. “I did.”

His fingers clutch lightly at the pages, wrinkling the parchment. “… It’s far from finished, it’s unpolished, but… did you… d-did you like it?”

Honestly, that question makes your thoughts go entirely silent. How can he wonder like that? From what you read, you were enthralled with the whole thing. It doesn’t seem to be even half finished, but it’s incredible. There was a reason you kept reading it.

“Yes.” Your tone is lower, more delicate, so he doesn’t doubt your sincerity were you to give an over-the-top display of delight. You smile at him over your shoulder. “You simply must keep writing it. If I don’t find out how it ends, you’ll never be rid of my pestering you for closure,” you tease.

You pause at the doorway to the parlor, lightly gripping one hand on the doorframe. In short order, you’ll be doing much the same to Arthur’s arm. “I’ll be waiting for you out here, Dr. Doyle.”

He nods, and his eyes look like he’s in some kind of dream. The way he’s gazing at you, it’s borderline worshipful. It makes you feel like you’ve just shone a small ray of hope into something he was ready to walk away from. You’re not sure you could ever adequately explain how much that means to you. “Yes, of course, I’ll… I’ll be along shortly.” A light rosy glow dusts his cheeks again. “And… and, please… c-call me Arthur.”

“As you like… well, I’ll see you soon, Arthur.” One more smile, and you quietly slip out into the parlor, then out the front door.

Idly, you can’t stop yourself from wondering if someone like you might wind up working her way into one of his books.

You very much pray he keeps writing.

[maddymoreau]

(⸝⸝⸝⚆_⚆⸝⸝⸝)♡ Honestly nothing will ever surpass this scene is Lucifer’s 2022 Birthday Event

[neonganymede]

Wrote less than 500 words today. Feeling some kind of way about that.

[whoa-where-did-the-pancakes-go]

Tried to find the house my grandparents lived in when i was little for reasons (The Memories) and i got it on the first try???

[lowkeyremi]

JJK MEN AS DADS

How they are with their kiddos/babies ! ft. gojo, geto, choso, toji, and nanami

content: no curse!au fluff, established relationship (marriage), children, families.

Gojo Satoru

"Look at my little boy, he looks just like me, what a heart stopper you'll be when you get older!" He praises his two year old, Kenji Gojo.

"'Toru stop trying to manifest our son into a hoe." Satoru turns to you with a loud gasp, eyes wide, and it causes your little boy to giggle.

"How could you say such words, in front of him? Don't listen to Mommy. Daddy was never a player. Never ever!" Kenji has no clue what's happening he just laughs at his father's dramatics.

"Oh brother, I hope he doesn't turn into a drama queen like you. And yes you were a player before I got with you. Remember when you kissed my friend then like ten minutes later tried to kiss me?" Satoru was a menace in college. Every time you bring up that specific college memory he always says-

"Ugh, blame Suguru! He was the one who made me take shots when I didn't like to drink." There it is. That was excuse for two-timing you and your best friend back then.

"Save it for someone who believes you. Kenji, don't be like Daddy when you grow up, okay?" Your husband knows you're joking but he can't help but whine and feel like you're being against him.

"Otay Mommy! Daddy is hoeeee. Hoe hoe hoe. Merry Christmas!" Your poor little boy thinks he's saying the noise Santa makes instead of a derogatory term and it's hilarious.

Of course you encourage him, "Daddy's a what?"

"Hoe!" Kenji screams out with a smile on his face. Satoru frowns loosing his playfulness.

"I-i guess my family just hates me... no one loves me." He sighs loudly to sell it to you guys but you don't buy it. He sits in the corner pretending to cry. "Boo hoo..." Kenji waddles his way over to his father patting his head.

"No cry Daddy, you not a hoe. You Daddy." Satoru fakes a loud gasp when he hears his son comfort him, thinking Satoru is actually crying.

"Really?!" He asks the little boy standing next to him.

"Yeah, Daddy is cool!!" Satoru chuckles, picks up is little boy and tosses him into the air. The small white haired child screams in delight as his father catches him, and you can't deny that all the trouble you and Satoru had in your relationship was worth seeing this.

Geto Suguru

"And then, the monster ate the twin girls who didn't go to sleep at their bed time-"

"Ooooookay. I think that's enough bed time stories from Papa." You say ushering your girls to bed, Hana looks scared out of her mind but Kana's eyes are sparkling with curiosity.

"Awww, Mommy, it was just getting good!" Kana whines, you know she wants to hear whatever else Suguru makes up on spot but he scared Hana who looks like she wants to cry.

"I know sweetie, but I don't think Hana really liked that story." The girls are six and full of energy at any given time.

"Come on baby, let me tell Kana the rest." Suguru matches his daughter's tone, knowing you'll give in.

"Alright, fine, but you need to apologize to Hana, look at her." Your husband looks at his younger twin daughter and he does feel kind of bad for scaring her like that. Suguru likes telling scary stories and myths to his girls just like his father had done to him. He always thought they were super cool.

"Oh, Hana, sweet girl. Papa's sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that. How about I tell you and your sister a different story?" Hana looks a little doubtful as do you, but Suguru grants you a smile. He knows you trust him so you give him a stern look before kissing his forehead.

"Don't take too long, I need my cuddles." He smirks, kissing your hand, "Of course my dear."

The twins coo in unison at their parents romantic gestures, they think it's the coolest thing ever. "You girls have your stuffed animals?" He asks them and they nod together waiting for his story.

He tells the two about a princess who needed saving. Her long lost sister came to save her from a scary dragon and they lived happily together.

"That sounds like me and Hana!! I fought the scary dragon and Hana was the princess!!!" Kana says with excitement. Sometimes Suguru sees two little girls he used to foster in his own girls. He wonders how they're doing these days. They're probably grown up by now or at least in their late teens.

"I really wish Mommy had let me name you guys Nanako and Mimiko." He whispers with a soft smile. Kana looks at him in confusion rubbing her tired eyes, Hana's already asleep.

"Huh?" Kana asks.

"Nothing my dear, good night, little one." He tucks her into bed and gives her a tend kiss on the forehead.

"Night night, Papa." She says with a yawn and Suguru makes his way downstairs to join you.

Kamo Choso

Choso bites his lip looking down at his son, the boy looks a lot like you he thinks. Ryuji is his name, you let him name him. "I didn't mean to break it." He whines to his father. Choso has a soft spot for his boy. He reminds him a lot of his little brother Yuji.

"I know bud, but what will we tell Mom when she gets home?" Ryuji had accidentally broken your favorite ceramic mug. Choso was not sure what he signed up for when he got you pregnant but it sure wasn't this.

He and his son were always getting scolded by you. Every time Ryuji gets into some kind of trouble it also happens to be Choso's fault for not watching him closely as you always say. The truth is, Ryuji seems to get into trouble even with his father watching him closely.

"Um... we can tell her it was at the edge of the counter and i walked past it and it fell down. Then it will be her fault for leaving it by the edge." Choso smiles at his devious ten year old. He knows lying is bad but if you heard what really happened you'd scold both of them.

What actually happened as that Ryuji was playing in the kitchen, even though you've warned him against it many times and he knocked your mug down onto the ground.

"Good idea, kid. I don't want to hear Mom yelling again. I might get couch treatment again." Choso shivers at the idea of sleeping on the cramped couch rather than in his warm bed with you.

"You remind me a lot of your Uncle Yuji." Choso says ruffling his son's hair. "You and Mom keep saying that and I don't know if that's good or bad."

"It depends. Yuji can be both." Choso chuckles. His son gives him a crushing hug.

"I love you dad, you're doing great." And Choso didn't know how much he needed to hear those words but they were getting to him.

Fushiguro Toji

"Quit kicking your Ma, ya little brat." He threatens your swelling belly. He gives you a questioning look when you glare at him. Those emerald eyes challenge yours in a staring contest.

"What is with you and threatening our unborn children?" Your question is followed by a giggle.

"Gotta let the brats know who's in charge." He blows out a breath and puffs his chest, you find the whole ordeal ridiculous. The man is a girl dad for crying out loud. Even his oldest, your step-son thinks his father is a clown. And before Tsumiki died there were three daughters in his life.

He thinks your third one is bound to be a boy, but you're secretly hoping for a girl just to further sink Toji's idea of having a little boy to boss around. Megumi comes around maybe twice a month to see his little half-sisters, which means Toji is surrounded by girls all the time.

You like to joke around with him and say, "What do you know? Girls seem to follow you wherever you go." He always grumbles about it being stupid and unfair.

"As I was saying-"

"DAD!!!!! MY HAIR OH NOOOOOOO." Toji's up off the couch in seconds answering at his daughter's beck and call.

He walks into her room to see her braid was messed up. "What happened, Doll?" He asks her, undoing the braid so he can redo it.

"Yui undid my braid!! She took my hair tie and ran to her room!!!" She squeals, in horror at her little sister's thieving.

"Oh did she now? I'll go have a talk with her once I braid this back up." He's gentle with his tender-headed daughter. He quickly braids her hair back up, the pattern memorized. 100% self indulgent bc im tender headed.

"I have this green hair tie, is that okay, sweet girl?" She sighs quietly. "Where are the blue ones?" Toji clicks his tongue. "I can go get one real quick if you hold the end of this braid." He tells her and she's quick to do it. Her favorite color is blue after all.

She cheers when her father returns with a blue hair tie. He ties it up quickly, "Okay let me go talk to Yui." Nami nods brushing out her baby doll's hair.

Toji makes an appearance in front of his four year old's door, she's making her dolls scream at each other. "What was da reason?!!!!" She screams pretending to be one of the dolls, "I had a reason." She makes the other say.

Toji rolls his eyes, his daughter has been watching too much TV with you. "Excuse me miss Cardi B, why did you steal your sister's hair tie?" His hands are on his hips and his eyes are squinted to add to his authority.

"Whattttt, Dad, you know dat?" She asks as if her dad lives under a rock.

"Tch I'm not old, I know what memes are. Now answer the question." She rolls her eyes. You tell Toji she gets her attitude from him.

"If you haf to know I needed it, so I could give Sprinkles a ponytail." Sprinkles is the dog Toji said he was NOT going to get for his girls but caved in and got anyway.

"Ya coulda asked me or your Ma for one rather than stealing it right from your sister's hair." She shakes her head in disagreement. Toji wonders what's going on in her head right now.

"Dad you don't get it! It had to be that one!"

"Why that specific hair tie?" She goes silent turning away from her father and mumbling something Toji can barely hear.

"Speak up, princess." She scoffs and sighs and folds her arms. Wow the sass is unreal.

"Sprinkle thinks Nami is super cool so she wants what Nami has." Toji isn't stupid he knows his daughter is using the dog as a place holder for how she admires her older sister. Yui doesn't like to admit it though.

"Are you sure it's Sprinkle who thinks Nami is super cool?" He gives her the chance to be open with him and she sighs taking the bait.

"I guess. I think Nami is super cool." She murmurs and Toji smirks.

"It's alright to think your sis is cool, Dad didn't get to grow up with any cool siblings. Just annoying cousins."

"Mai and Maki are cooler than you, Dad, not annoying!" The man in question raises his brow his smirk never leaving, "Okay since I'm not cool. I guess I won't take you out for treats anymore when Ma says no."

Little Yui gasps, bursting upward like a rocket and running toward her dad. She hugs his leg, her little head looking up at him, "I was kidding Dad. You're super cool. Please don't stop taking me for treats!!"

Toji smiles, picks up his little girl and tickles her. She screams out for him to stop, "Huh? I can't hear what you're saying."

"Nami help!!!!"

In seconds Nami's attacking her father in a playful manner, "Let go of my sister!!"

"Okay then." Toji holds his daughter upside down by her feet, as she screams some more. "MA!!! HELPPP!!!!"

"Toji put her down." You say in a half-hearted manner.

"She is down. Upside down."

Nanami Kento

"See, you're getting the hang of it, Hiro." Kento softly encourages his son who's struggling with his math homework. You had tried to help him but he screamed that what you were saying didn't make sense. So of course you yelled back, letting your emotions get the better of you.

Kento had stepped in to keep you two from ripping each other's heads off. Plus all that screaming had woken up the baby. You could hear her crying.

That was about an hour ago. You quietly walked into the dining room with your seven month old baby girl cuddled up to your chest as you held her tight.

The sight of your husband helping your son warmed your heart, but you also felt guilt hot in your stomach for yelling at him, he's only twelve.

"Hey, Hiro. Can I talk to you, hon?" You ask softly. Both your son and Kento turn their heads upon hearing your voice. He nods at you and you inhale deeply, "I'm sorry for yelling at you, bud, I didn't mean it."

His eyes soften as do Kento's.

"I'm sorry too, Mom. I started it. You were just trying to help me." Kento's smile encourages you to walk closer to the table which you do.

"We should have had Dad come help in the first place, huh? I'm not good at explaining." Hiro shares a laugh with you, and Kento cups your cheek.

"Explanations might not be your strong suit but you're still a good mother, baby." Hiro gags at his father calling you "baby" he hate when you two get sappy.

You move your head a little so you can kiss his palm. As expected Hiro covers his eyes and making more throwing up noises.

"Oh hush, one day you'll find someone for you, and you'll be just like me and your mother." Kento says rolling his eyes and you giggle. Even though you guys have your differences you guys always forgive each other at the end of the day.

Your little girl coos quietly and Kento holds out his arms gesturing for his little girl.

"She's just had dinner, so she might fall asleep on you." Your warning doesn't bother him at all, if anything, you'll probably have more pictures to add to your baby gallery on your phone if she falls asleep in his arms.

She's already a dad's girl and she's only seven months old. You thought maybe Hiro would be a mama's boy but he's definitely his daddy's son.

You don't mind though, well, sometimes you're a little jealous that you have to share your man with your kids. Kento's a very lovable man though, so you can't blame them.