[18+ Yandere Meowscarada x Reader] I'll Make Them All Disappear!

✿ | Just the Way You Are

Flashback Chapter 05.
Brought to you by specially chosen, limited edition request of
@ThisIsTheOPStance

"Cats don't even need clothes—! Totally unnecessary! Even if this one cat makes them look pretty good on her..."
- A random passerby in Mesagoza

A number of months ago, shortly before Floragato evolved...

"I must look pretty nice in this if I've got you speechless."

The undeniable truth. Avery's decked out in just about the cutest crop top and white-striped short-shorts on the block, has her hair pulled up into a petite ponytail, even has the audacity to walk around with that adorably smug face on all the time... and she's got the gull to even question how nice she looks. You're no sucker, but she looks good. You've grown an egregious soft spot for freckled women.

"Ten outta ten." You give a shaky thumbs-up. "Better than the tacky school shorts you always have on."

"The shorts?" Her eyes dart down to her bottoms, practically scrutinizing the way they hug her thighs, then back up at you with probably the nastiest side-eye you've ever seen. "How come you mention the shorts first?"

"I mean..."

"Actual pervert."

"I-I didn't mean it like that! The whole outfit looks... good on you."

"Think I'll stick to the school shorts. Don't want Mister Gawk-Gawk checking me out from behind all the time." And she disappears back into the changing room with a subtle flip of her shiny brown locks. You're not quite unsettled by her shoddy attempt at sounding peeved at your wandering eyeballs — far from it; you managed to glimpse the smallest hint of a smile on her face before she turned, so she can't be that upset. In fact, she's probably the type to become absolutely elated when her crush acts the slightest bit impure... sneaking peeks here, there, everywhere. In moderation, anyway.

You're truly not a pervert. That much is undeniable.

While waiting for Avery to come back out, you sit with Flora on the little bench aligned outside of the shoe aisle. Stationed before a tall mirror, the cat stares longingly at herself — or so it seems. One further look at her face and you can tell, right away, she's the one who's pissed. Face scrunched up, arms crossed, a little tilt in her head the closer you lean toward her. Eventually she's turned her head entirely away from you, and her eyes are clearly trained on nothing in particular, so obviously she's avoiding you.

"I know your body language like the back of my hand," you tease. "Grow up. Quit being jealous. She's just trying outfits on — that's what human girls do. Drag along their male friends, yap about their fashion choices, ask what they should wear as if they don't have perfectly functional brains and eyeballs and a totally different sense of style than their friend..."