Kyou Kara Maou: the Five Loves of Shibuya Yuuri
Okay, let's get the ball rolling...
Title: Conception
Author/Artist: shayheyred
Theme: Five Loves, Shibuya Yuuri, Kyou Kara Maou
Rating: G
Author's Notes: Warning - Schmoop ahead. Also possible "Awwwww!" factor. This section only. I hope.
"Oooooh, Yuu-chan! How adorable you look!"
She smells like baby powder and laundry soap and hand crème and curry, though he doesn't know what those things are and won't for years. He doesn't know her proper name, either, not the Japanese one or the Americanized version. She's just Mama. It's the only word Yuuri knows, or needs.
Mama's touch is gentle, her skin as soft as his stuffed koala's velveteen, but the koala's face can't crinkle with joy when Yuuri smiles, and it can't pick him up and press him to a laundry soap-and-curry-scented bosom. The koala doesn't have silky chestnut hair for Yuuri to grab hold of and pull undone.
Yuuri has a rival, Big Poopy-Head, who smells like tobacco and ironed shirts and automobiles and sometimes in the morning like Mama. Big Poopy-Head likes to kiss Mama, which makes Yuuri jealous. He picks up Yuuri, too, but when he changes him he never gets it right and Yuuri fidgets and fusses. When that happens Mama yells at Big Poopy-Head. That makes Yuuri happy.
"Oh, Yuu-chan!" Mama finishes tying a bow in Yuuri's shaggy hair to go with the ruffled clothes that he will not know to be embarrassed by until he is older. Right now, though, life is good, all yummy-nummy and poopie-change and blankie-bed and Koko-bear and best of all, Mama.
Shibuya Yuuri is in love.
Title: Conception
Author/Artist: shayheyred
Theme: Five Loves, Shibuya Yuuri, Kyou Kara Maou
Rating: G
Author's Notes: Warning - Schmoop ahead. Also possible "Awwwww!" factor. This section only. I hope.
"Oooooh, Yuu-chan! How adorable you look!"
She smells like baby powder and laundry soap and hand crème and curry, though he doesn't know what those things are and won't for years. He doesn't know her proper name, either, not the Japanese one or the Americanized version. She's just Mama. It's the only word Yuuri knows, or needs.
Mama's touch is gentle, her skin as soft as his stuffed koala's velveteen, but the koala's face can't crinkle with joy when Yuuri smiles, and it can't pick him up and press him to a laundry soap-and-curry-scented bosom. The koala doesn't have silky chestnut hair for Yuuri to grab hold of and pull undone.
Yuuri has a rival, Big Poopy-Head, who smells like tobacco and ironed shirts and automobiles and sometimes in the morning like Mama. Big Poopy-Head likes to kiss Mama, which makes Yuuri jealous. He picks up Yuuri, too, but when he changes him he never gets it right and Yuuri fidgets and fusses. When that happens Mama yells at Big Poopy-Head. That makes Yuuri happy.
"Oh, Yuu-chan!" Mama finishes tying a bow in Yuuri's shaggy hair to go with the ruffled clothes that he will not know to be embarrassed by until he is older. Right now, though, life is good, all yummy-nummy and poopie-change and blankie-bed and Koko-bear and best of all, Mama.
Shibuya Yuuri is in love.