okay so i love your mika and yuu headcanons what r ur thoughts on mikayuu animal omegaverse?
If Yuu and Mika were animals, Mika would be a kitten or cub because he has cat eyes, fangs, and looks fluffy and adorable.
Yuu would be a wolf pup because his hair is messy and goes all sorts of ways, he’s an angry and aggressive boy that likes to take what he wants, and he also has puppy eyes in my opinion.
Mika comes from a family of wild cats, and Yuu from a wolf pack. Their families hate each other and compete over the food. Kitten Mika and Wolf!Yuu meet on accident while practicing on hunting for game, and they end up becoming attached to one another. Kitten!MIka teases wolf!Yuu a lot and frequently tells Yuu he smells like a wet dog to annoy him much like his teasing of Yuu’s bad tasting blood in canon.
Sometimes wolf!Yuu gives kitten!Mika his game because he notices him starving and only puts Mika in this exception. Wolf!Yuu gets beaten and bullied for it by his pack after wolf!Guren, his dad who has high expectations of him becoming the next Alpha wolf, finds out he gave their game to a member of a rival clan.
Wolf!Yuu and kitten!Mika just cuddle and lick each other, there really isn’t anything sexual about their relationship. I’mma stop now before I end up writing a fic here rofl, but it’ll def be on my to-write list when I have time to write my YuuMika fics.
I stood nervously at the door, waiting for the yellow glow of headlights to appear in my driveway. I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt. Come on, Herminia, I told myself. If you can set la patria free with your poetry, you can do this.
My wolf pup, Douglass (named after one of my heroes), waddled over to my feet and stared at me with his enormous eyes. I smiled and stroked his fur, which was a soft as Spanish moss. “You be good for Papa and Mama while I’m gone, okay, Dougie?”
Douglass continued to gaze into my eyes, unlike most wolf pups his age did. It must have been genetic.
Suddenly, I heard the screeching of tires on the asphalt. I threw open the Dutch doors and watched as he stepped out of the car.
Thad was a handsome young man who had long black hair and eyes the color of rainbow trout. He had asked me out on a date to a Fourth of July celebration at a local farmer’s market. Though I was against celebrating the holiday (I even wrote a poem about it), I couldn’t resist because Thad was just so cute.
He smiled at me. “Ready to go, my pup?”
I giggled and skipped down the steps to the driveway. From inside the house Papa yelled, “Close the doors!”, but I paid him no attention. After all, I was living my life to defy him.
I slid into the passenger seat. The car wasn’t Thad’s; he had borrowed it from his friend Martin, who was renting it. It smelled deliciously of octane gas.
Thad and I grinned at each other, and we were off. In about (x+y)(x+2y) minutes, we arrived at the market.
The sky was darkening, and people were gathered at various booths and tables. Thad selected a fold-out table for us to sit at. He gazed in wonder at the crowd. “Great holiday, isn’t it?”
“For you, yes. For slaves, not so much.” I stopped before I could say more. Oops. Had I insulted him?
Thad either didn’t hear me or didn’t care, for he was too busy hungrily eyeing a sack of potatoes at one farmer’s booth. “Man. It’s a shame how there are so many different kinds of potato chips and not enough kinds of potatoes, huh?”
“Uh-huh.” It was true.
“All this talk of food is making me hungry,” Thad sighed wistfully. He turned to me. “Is there anything you want?”
“I’ll go with you,” I said.
We stood up and made our way to the concession stand. I looked at the menu. “I think I’ll have a salad and some water.” Lately I was trying to watch my weight. Didn’t want anything too fattening. Thad looked like a weight-watching sort of guy, too.
“That’s all?” he said. “Alright.” He turned to the lady running the stand and declared, “I’ll have 14 sandwiches, 4 salads, 35 cookies and 23 bottles of water, please.”
The lady looked surprised, but quickly recovered from her initial shock and said, “That’ll be $149 dollars.”
“Okay.” Thad pulled his wallet from his pants pocket and handed her a wad of cash. In return, he received a stack of three big cardboard boxes. I offered to carry one, but he waved me off and hobbled back to the table.
Thad gave me my pathetic little salad and water bottle and began stuffing his face with his own food. “Sho,” he mumbled between bites, “do you pway an inshtorment?”
Inshtorment? Instrument! I shook my head. “Not unless you count pen and paper. In that case, I’m a musician.”
Thad nearly spit out his entire mouthful of food. “But playing an instrument helps increase brain function!” He paused and blushed. “I-I mean, not that you’d need to, anyway. You’re smart already.”
I chuckled and looked at the ground.
A delightful smell wafted through the air. Thad sniffed it longingly. “Mmm. Fish. If I didn’t have so much food I’d go buy some of that.”
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “It’s farm-raised, you know. Wild caught fish is so much better. Did you know you can get sea lice from farm-raised fish?”
Thad looked hurt. “I don’t have sea lice. Anyway, farm-raised fish is much better. Did you hear about what they do to those tilapia pens? They submerge them in lake water. It has a great affect on the taste of the fish.”
“You mean effect,” I corrected him. “Affect is a verb.”
“No, it IS affect,” Thad shot back.
“It’s effect, Thad. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. I’m a writer.”
So the great “affect-effect” debate lasted forever. Once we finally settled on “effect” (thank God), I felt awful. I just wanted to DELETE the conversation.
The sky was black now, and the fireworks were starting. Everyone “oohed” and “ahhed” at the colorful display—that is, everyone but me.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Herminia?” Thad whispered. He wasn’t upset anymore.
I was seething with anger. “You know what this represents?” I said quietly.
My patience snapped. “AMERICAN SLAVERY!” I screamed.
Everyone else had turned to stare at me, just as a huge firework exploded above their heads.
Thad frowned. “You know what. I’m going home.” He stood up and stormed off, not before grabbing his leftovers.
I marched after him, almost relieved. I had made my point. I had showed that oppressor—no, those oppressors—what July Fourth was really all about.
The car ride home was silent and awkward. Once we pulled into my driveway, I immediately left the car and slammed the door behind me. Thad sped off, never to speak to me again.
Later that night, I curled up on my bed with my pen and paper, Douglass snuggled up next to me. Though our relationship was a flash in the pan, I was a little sad it had ended so abruptly. However, a sense of pride washed over me, and I began writing, grinning.
Not only had I set la patria free—I had set my heart free, too.
If even so much as his brother found out he was harboring a young wolf pup in his room, now in his bed, Izuna was certain that he would end up grounded. He had gone out, undone a trap and brought, in his father’s words, a wild beast into the house. Being only nine, the young boy had heard it all before, how you could never trust a wolf.
Well, that had obviously been wrong. Though, he would need to check the bandages around the pup’s leg again sometime today. But really, even with those red eyes, the wolf pup was just all around cute! He even let Izuna pet him, if anything, the pup seemed to enjoy it too. “I’ll need to change your bandages again soon puppy, but we have to be quiet okay?” Unfortunately for Izuna, his father would, eventually, discover the pup. For now however, the boy was content snuggling with the fluffy puppy.
“You’re so cute you know.” The boy is fawning over Tobirama however, and certainly intends to spoil him. Curious, his fingers hunker down into the thick fur, scratching, looking for that one spot every dog or puppy had that would make them melt.