#bunny burnt soup

[usagiverse]

Do any of the Usagi family members hate carrots?? If I remember correctly in the comics it was said that Usagi hates carrots but I don't remember why...

But that's still a funny idea to me.

hi

Hmmm.. I think you know something I don't because I cannot remember that scene for the life of me, but I believe it exists somehow... oh well, I’ll keep reading and see if I find it o7

Miyamoto's first thump.. when his mother tries to feed him a vegetable. Everyone in the family is shocked, not at the refusal to eat vegetables, but at the sheer power of which he despises the thought enough to stomp his feet. No one ever stomps their feet.. not usually. "Carrot salad?" A very loud thump. "Carrot soup?" A contemplative thump, as though he would almost consider eating it if it wasn't veggie focused. "Carrot cake?" A quick and decisive thump. Carrots, in a cake? That sounds disgusting. "Carrot bread?" A soft thump. He likes bread, especially when it comes to his mother's baking, but a carrot is still...... "Carrot fries?" A trick. A healthy junk-food style option. Thump. He won't fall for it.

And a quick shape-buns doodle chart, Mizuki wants to raise a healthy family of bunnies but Miyamoto will at most eat fruit, potatoes, and beans.. Also the difference between “Eats Anything” and “Eats Everything” is Yuichi will completely finish a plate and have it cleaned, while Shuji will just eat any kind of food in front of him, but not necessarily eat the whole of it. For example…. I eat watermelon rind. (The green part, yes, that’s me, that’s what I do) that’s an “Eats Everything” trait. Yuichi would eat the watermelon with the rind, and Shuji would not. Or a more relatable example, is that Shuji might not eat pizza crusts, the burnt end of fries, bread crusts, or the outer skin of apples and potatoes. Yuichi would eat all of the above and then some (there is zero waste in the Usagi household!)

Fun fact #1 : Rabbits stomp their feet (or thump) to indicate danger nearby, or purely out of annoyance. My rabbit always thumped before I put her in bed every night, and she also thumped whenever I gave her a treat she didn’t want. Very sassy, but very cute.

Fun fact #2 : Lop-eared rabbits aren’t born with floppy ears. So Miyamoto, pictured above, has straight ears since they haven’t lopped yet. Mizuki was born this way too, and they both have minimal and limited range on ear movement. The brothers, of course, are not lop-eared, and have full range of motion with their ears. They both use their ears to silently communicate with each other, and.. well, they’re twins, I guess, and we know another set of twins that have.. yep, twin senses! The boys use their ears as antennae to sync back up to each other (it’s canon now).

[sixx-writes]

                         _on a moonlit night

Kenpachi Zaraki x Reader

Word Count: 4,095

cw: biting, rough sex, knots, werewolf sex, rough sex, blood, scratching, creampie, overstimulation, mindbreak(ish)

AO3 Version | Masterlist

Summary: You’re dragged to a Halloween party by your best friend and decide to walk home alone. What could happen on a full moon? (This is kind of crack and let’s all squint and pretend that I actually finished it on Halloween :^)

18+ ONLY NSFW BELOW THE CUT

It was Orihime's fault really.

You were sick for over a week with the flu trapped in your bed and to make matters worse it was unseasonably hot for October and you found yourself as a sweating feverish dumpster fire. So as a result she'd insisted that you come with her to the Halloween party to get out of the house for a while although it wasn't really your style.

You still looked run down from being ill with dark circles under your eyes and a faint pink around your nose which Orihime had helped you hide with makeup. You had decided to go as a slutty bunny girl for no particular reason other than it was too late to get a new costume and it was the only one you had from the year before. It was of course your ex's idea, not yours, as he he had a thing for it.

"Do you see the tail anywhere," you called to Orihime when you'd found your other stocking in the depths of your closet. It still had the run in the knee from where you'd been on your knees most of the time wearing it.

"Uh.. no."

"Shit."

It was already late and the missing piece wasn't making an appearance.

This really wasn't your night.

"Ah I found it!" Orihime sang triumphantly producing the missing fuzzball. You turned around so she could stick it to your butt and onto the velcro. You were officially slutted out in your costume and matching stilettos that you knew would blister your feet long before the night was up.

On the car ride over Orihime was listening to some hyper pop bullshit that gave you a headache and your mood only continued to drop the entire time. Still you had to stick it out since she had brought you soup and watched Netflix with you while you were sick to keep you company while all of your other friends avoided you like the plague.

However..

Any sense of owing Orihime disintegrated the moment you saw the shock of orange hair over the crowd of bodies upon arrival. You would recognize your ex anywhere so why did he have to be here right fucking now of all places?

The party was taking place on some dude's lawn as his mother had forbidden him to let anyone in the house while she and his dad were away. Several strings of lights hung around the perimeter and a few of those cheap plastic tables were scattered about with food and drinks on them. Alcohol from the looks of some of the girls and how shamelessly horny they were being. Someone was throwing up in the gutter already and you had to roll your eyes.

It was exactly like what you didn't want to be a part of in your burnt out barely recovered state and Orihime gave you a look akin to panic when she realized how uninterested you were when you'd only just arrived.

"Oh, come one. At least give it a chance," she said grabbing your wrist and pulling you.

"I'll give it an hour and then I'm going home."

She pouted but didn't argue knowing she wouldn't get any better from you.

You got your fair share of stares at your tits and legs where you had seated yourself, strategically out of view from your ex you hoped, on one of those shitty plastic lawn chairs that seemed to break a week after buying them. It was less noisy as well and you could hear the insects chirping restlessly away in the background. You heard something else that sounded like howling and you thought that was weird but by now you'd had a couple of drinks to make the hour pass more tolerably so you were pleasantly buzzed and not caring much at all about anything.

That was until a guy approached you with a blonde bob and a shit eating grin.

You dragged your eyes away from where you'd been staring at nothing and his grin only got wider at the acknowledgment.

"Hey, cutie. Whatcha doin' all the way over here by yourself?"

You thought you caught a glimpse of shiny metal in his mouth when he spoke. For some reason he didn't strike you as the type to have a tongue ring.

"Name's Shinji by the way. Nice to meet ya."

He seemed nice and he was cute but that was exactly what you didn't want. Your ex had been nice too. Nice and boring. Afraid of taking risks of any kind with you sexually led to a stagnant relationship. The most risque thing the two of you had done was buying the costume you were wearing. Maybe you were being too harsh in your assessment but you were already in a shit mood and wanted to be left alone.

"That's nice but I'm not interested in whatever you're thinking right now. Sorry," you let him down as politely as you could. He didn't seem very bothered by the rejection and shrugged before disappearing in the same direction he came from, "Your loss, babe."

You nearly snorted at his departing words but then contestant number two made an appearance; Ichigo your ex. He couldn't seem to let you go not understanding why you dumped him when everything had been so perfect in his mind. That had led to him thinking he could convince you to get back together if he just tried hard enough. You knew that an awkward conversation was imminent so you did like any rational adult and slipped off your stilettos before diving through the hedge behind you scratching the shit out of yourself in the process.

You thought you heard a cry of alarm from Ichigo but the party became a distant thrum as you half jogged away moving between the streetlights, the grass cold beneath your feet. Orihime had only opted to drive because you still didn't feel well but in reality the party was only about a twenty-five minute walk from your own house. .

With a sigh you dug around in your cleavage for your phone to send a text to Orihime once you were a safe distance away so she wouldn't be worried when you heard a twig snap somewhere off to your right. It was too dark between the houses to tell what had caused the sound and you could only hope it was just a cat. That idea didn't last very long when you heard the howling from before only this time it was way too close for comfort.

A dog?

You didn't think so.

You frantically tapped at your screen trying to get a text out to Orihime when something hit you like a truck from the side sending you sprawling out on the grass, the phone flying away from your hands in a disorienting tangle of limbs.

There's something on top of you and it's fucking big.

You can only make out it's silhouette against the light of the moon and it's sniffing at the air with a muzzle that almost looks like a fucking wolf but that has to be impossible, right?

You hear that distant howling again and the thing on top of you throws it's head back and releases the most gut rending howl of it's own in response to it, answering the call.

Werewolf sprang into your mind and your drunken brain was completely shorting out in confusion.

You should be screaming or trying to run but you're just laying there staring dumbly with skinned elbows in your stupid outfit which was going in the trash after tonight.

If you survived.

It finally seemed to acknowledge you and turned it's yellow luminescent eyes in your direction before changing, it's outline rippling into the shape of a man. The tallest fucking man you've ever laid eyes on.

The tallest fucking man you've ever laid eyes on that also happens to be very much naked.

"Sorry about that," he commented offhandedly. "Got lost."

"...got lost?" you repeated.

"It happens."

He said it so confidently as if it were the answer to everything that was happening to you tonight. His eyes raked over your body, lingering at your tits, not caring that he was still on top of you or how uncomfortable and scared you were, "Nice outfit."

"T-Thanks," you muttered, not sure what else to say to that since things couldn't get any weirder. "Are you going to kill me?"

He looked off to the side in contemplation revealing his features in the moonlight clearly for the first time; a defined profile that's sharp and dangerous with a long scar over his left eye. Suddenly he grinned in a way you don't like as he reached a decision.

"Well, now that you mention it, you have seen me so that's a problem isn't it?"

"I-I won't tell anyone. I promise," you felt like you were going to throw up.

"Not good enough. If you wanna live you're gonna have to make it worth my while."

"I'll do anything. Please."

"Heh, you sure about that? Don't say it if you don't mean it," he was taunting you still grinning. He looked hungry now, one half of his face cast into shadow, his eyes still glowing faintly.

"Please," was all you could manage. You didn't trust yourself not to cry if you tried to say anymore than that. He might just get annoyed and decide you're not interesting enough for him to play with and kill you instead.

"May just end up eating you anyway since you look so damn tasty in this thing," the man's voice was pure gravel and heat affecting you in ways that frightened you more than the monster on top of you.

His hand spans the entire width of your stomach where he rests it against you, his fingertips stopping just below your breasts, barely contained in the cups of your top from your fall, his fingers moving progressively lower over your hip. You squeak when he slings your legs over his wide shoulders with no effort at all, bending you almost upside down. Everything was happening too fast and he must have sensed the growing panic within you.

"Don't try to run or I won't be able to control myself. Not when there's a full moon."

He spoke the words into your thigh, his sharp teeth grazing your skin in warning.

You felt faint when he ran his tongue over the scrape left by the hedge branches tasting your blood, his irises flaring more brightly for a moment, excitement rising. He continued moving higher, trailing his lips along the sensitive skin and smearing faint traces of red along the way. His eyes never left yours as he buried his face against your cunt inhaling your musk through your panties and costume.

It was so perverse.

It was also fucking hot.

Maybe it's because you had too much punch or because you always liked the idea of danger when it came to sex but this was something else.

"Fuck," he groaned. "What did I do to get so lucky tonight."

His grip on your legs tightened in the moments before you were rolled over; positions reversed so that you were sitting on his chest. You noticed how easily his fingers went all the way around your thighs with no issue meeting in the middle as he held you against him in an iron grip.

"Get on," he commanded.

"Get on what?" you asked genuinely confused.

"My face."

Your swallow was audible.

You hadn't even done this with your boyfriend because you were too shy and he was too nice to make you.

"Is there a problem?"

"N-No. Well.. it's embarrassing."

"Embarrassing? What the hell. You ain't a virgin are you?"

"No!"

"Good. Guess it can't be helped," he sighed forcing you into position so your clothed sex was resting against his mouth. He wasted no time greedily sucking at the fabric getting out your taste soaking it through with his saliva . The man was devouring your pussy like you're the best meal he's ever had watching you from below with an expression so intense that you had to shut your eyes to block it out.

He didn't approve of that and landed a slap against your bare ass cheek where the fabric had ridden up making you cry out.

You hesitantly brought your attention back down between your legs where he wanted it just as he dragged your ruined panties and costume to the side using only his teeth.

Your breath hitched and he smirked revealing a single sharp canine.

"Itadakimasu."

The first lick is slow and languid to savor your taste directly splitting the seam of your already soaked folds around the broad surface of his tongue. You couldn't stop the whine that slipped out feeling the vibrations of the man below you against your clit as he chuckled darkly. His hand remained on your ass kneading the pliant flesh encouraging you to hump his face as he ate you out.

Part of you wanted to just give in while the other part kept reminding you that you were being attacked right now and you shouldn't be enjoying it as much as you were. It was the other fucked up part of yourself that your exes just couldn't seem to get even when you dropped little hints.

Attraction to danger was the simplest way of putting it. You'd imagined things like being pulled into a dark alley and fucked by a stranger against the wall having your body used without caring how you felt. The only problem was you'd always been too shy to truly admit what you really wanted to yourself or anyone else to make it a reality.

 Running into a werewolf on Halloween night wasn't exactly what you had in mind however..

The decision was made for you when he focused all of his attention on your clit, suctioning his lips around it in a sloppy kiss that had your pussy drooling all over him in no time. You'd had oral before but not like this. So intense that it had your eyes rolling into the back of your head and helpless little mewls leaking out. You barely even recognized your own voice and the pornographic sounds you were making.

You could still hear the music from the party in the distance and you had the wild thought of what would happen if Ichigo came looking for you right now. What would he say seeing you riding the face of a werewolf on someone's carefully manicured lawn, you wondered. He would probably stop pining after you like a kicked puppy once he knew how disgusting you really were for starters.

You were rapidly losing the battle at pretending you didn't want what was happening and you were lost when he slipped his long tongue inside you, rolling it against the inside of your clenching walls where you needed attention the most.

"God.. fuck," you moaned. "I can't.."

Fireworks exploded behind your eyes as you came apart, your hands tangled in his wild mane of hair pressing him against yourself harder, making him growl animalistically as he tongue fucked you. You were carelessly tossed off into the grass with legs that had turned to jello grunting weakly in protest barely having had time to ride out your orgasm.

"My turn," he said. "Hope you're ready."

 Ready..?

You were dragged onto your hands and knees, "Don't move."

So you do as he said, your pussy still slick and exposed to the cool night air, waiting.

The head of his cock is thick and blunt where it prods at you from behind, testing your body to see if you could take him because you knew even without looking that he was fucking massive. That crazed part of your brain wants it to hurt when he finally shoves it in taking you for himself and you're panting from the thought of it. You're already getting wetter as he rubs himself against your heated cunt, teasing.

"Just put it in," you gasped.

"Huh?"

"Just fuck me. Please. I need it."

He groaned, "Fuck, woman. I'm trying not to go too fast here. You keep saying shit like that I won't be able to hold back."

"I thought you were going to kill me?"

He laughed in surprise, "You got me there. Don't blame me if you can't walk after."

His grasp on your hip turned rough while he used his other hand to line himself up into the slow burning stretch of your aching pussy as he forced inch after inch inside. You were too aroused for it to hurt much but the pleasure pain it did give had you biting into your hand. His hips weren't flush against your ass when he stopped and already you were filled to the point that your eyes were watering.

"Don't stop," you slurred starting to move on your own. Your cunt made a slick squish as you pulled off and slammed back onto his cock forcing him deeper, making you wince as a twinge of pain crawled through your stomach.

"Oi-!" he growled but this time did nothing to reprimand you, enjoying the view of your perfect ass bouncing on his dick trying so hard to take him and failing. Your enthusiasm was cute but it also had his jaw clenched tight trying to fight back dangerous instincts that he barely had contained. His grip on you changed, nails becoming sharper and breaking the skin around your hip. You hissed in pain but didn't stop, you needed to stop doing that.

"You want it that badly?" he asked in a tone that was deceptively calm in contrast with what he was he was feeling.

"Y.. es.."

You didn't know what you were asking and he didn't care. Not anymore.

So he took you all the way to the root with a vicious slap of skin making you scream in horrible bliss as he bumped your cervix bottoming out. There was no time to think as he continued like that in a savage rhythm impaling you more than fucking you like your insides were going to tear apart. He let out a deranged laugh at your expression, "What's up with that face you're making? You like it that much?"

"Hu..rt..s.."

"I'd imagine so. How about this?"

He took both of your wrists into one big hand holding you easily off the ground while the other went to messily circle your clit with no technique behind it. Just crazed circles around your swollen bud with calloused fingertips that added sweetness into the mixture of pleasure pain. The pain faded fast leaving nothing but agonizing pleasure almost too much for you to take.

You could only whine from the depths of the sweaty curtain of hair around your face as you came again with senses overloaded and mind blanking. The answering growl behind you was definitely not human and it seemed that your unexpected lover's control had finally snapped. Your eyes bulged as you felt him getting bigger inside you and for the first time you actually felt fear that he could break you for real.

"Wait-!" you realized you didn't even know his name.

A clawed hand covered in shaggy fur slammed into the ground next to you just as his chest met your back and his deadly maw came down next to your face panting hard. You were shoved roughly back into the ground with his claws slicing your back, no care for your personal safety like before, this was an animal acting on animal instincts. He only wanted to fuck you now and fill you up with his cum.

His cock felt slick inside you, different, no longer human judging by the swollen tissue at it's base which could only mean he had a knot like an actual wolf. You didn't know how to feel about it not that it would make a difference either way. You knew if you tried to resist now he would probably really hurt you, maybe kill you, so you bit down on the inside of your cheek and tried to endure.

Once the werewolf had started to fuck you it was fast and hard, quick tight thrusts like an animal just looking to cum as fast as possible inside you. Your mouth was full of grass as you whimpered and sobbed getting your face ground into the dirt by the uncaring creature above you. His precum overflowed ceaselessly from your cunt and made loud wet sounds on every thrust churning up your own creamy arousal into a leaking mess. The sounds of his hot breath next to your ear and the party faded away into the singular relentless schlick, schlick, schlick between your legs.

You had lost count of how many times you'd came and maybe even your sanity as he fucked you apart so you were just as much of an animal loving every second of what he was giving you. You were reduced to a quivering pile of meat reacting to your most primal desires no longer capable of anything else but taking his cock. Your body erupted again and he snarled at your clenching insides never slowing or stopping.

When he finally came inside you there was a white hot pain in your shoulder as he bit down mercilessly drawing blood and spraying your insides making you scream.

From that point on your consciousness was starting to fade out and your pussy felt numb from overuse. Dimly you felt him licking the wounds on your shoulder and back cleaning you before moving between your legs. You felt better somehow from his saliva and you wondered if it had healing properties.

"What the hell happened here, Kenpachi?"

Another man's voice was close by and he sounded alarmed. Not alarmed enough to see someone as fucked up as you were right now. Weakly, you turned your head in his direction but could only make out his outline.

"Just caught a rabbit is all, Ikkaku. Don't look so scared she's fine."

"She looks dead. Wait did you bite her?"

"Yeah. Maybe it'll take this time."

You barely understood what was being said feeling strange like you were running a fever all of a sudden and your body was racked with chills. Maybe you were more sick than you thought. You had the overwhelming urge to sleep.

"I'm gonna take her home. Give me a minute."

"You sure that's a good idea. It's Halloween and there's alot of people out," the other man sounded concerned.

"Shut up. I don't care."

You were lifted bridal style into his arms and automatically curled against his chest, now back to being human since his lust was satisfied, and you did sleep only vaguely aware of being inside your house at some point and getting carried into the bathroom. When you awoke the next morning your clothes were gone your body washed and all of your wounds completely healed as you stared at your reflection in wonder.

You didn't question how he knew where you lived, you assumed he just followed your scent, but the broken front doorknob made you frown and you let out a resigned sigh going to get your phone. It was a little concerning that a man like Kenpachi had broken into your house while carrying your limp body without anyone seeing or calling the police. You absently typed a reply seeing ten new texts from a worried Orihime when it hit you that he'd even found your phone for you and brought it along.

Oh, that was right, his name was Kenpachi wasn't it?

You smiled dreamily to yourself as you swept up the shattered splinters of your door frame and carried them to the trash. You wondered if you would ever see him again while you were preparing dinner later that evening slicing the chicken into strips when you accidentally cut your finger.

"Shit," you muttered, sticking the wounded digit into your mouth then remembered it was covered in raw chicken germs. You started to pull it out when an odd hunger struck you and you found yourself sucking off every bit of flavor mixing with your own blood. Your eyes darted to the cutting board where the raw strips still lay before popping one into your mouth and moaning at how fucking good it tasted.

You froze in realization of what you were doing.

 Shit.

It seemed you'd be seeing Kenpachi again after all.

[thetasteofbeautyandlove]

More Niku facts!!

(Cause mod has brainrot over their own oc right now)

• Whenever they work at the butcher shop, their boss ties their apron in a little bow in the front

• While working, they usually wear bandages over their discolored skin to try and avoid attention

• With their ability, they can only die if something directly hits their brain or heart

• They love Taberu with their entire being and will do anything to make it happy

• They can and will sneak candy into their pockets whenever possible

• Due to them having CIPA, they’ve burnt their hand so many times by accidentally touching a hot stove

• They adore stuffed animals (bears, bunnies and puppies are their favorites)

• Paints their nails a lot and will happily paint others nails too

• Seems really social, but they’re usually putting on a social front so people will like them more since they’re terrified of rejection

• Used to live with their boss at their butcher job before they joined XY

• They really like soba noodles and miso soup (they’re trying to learn to make it themself. It’s not going well)

• They honestly really like when Taberu bites them, since the pressure from it feels calming to them

• Their legs occasionally give out on them from how much nerve and muscle damage they have (someone get this kid mobility aids)

[sabbyvincent]

Some Zig Novak Headcanons

Back in Season 12, when Zig used to live with his mom, he had a dark gray holland lop with a white patch of fur underneath it’s nose. They named it Misha.

When his parents can afford it, his mom is actually a pretty good cook

During winter time, she makes good soups.

She is good friends with the owner of a farmer’s market down the street, he is aware that the Novak’s struggle to get by and gives them fresh vegetables and fruits for free

Borscht is actually one of his favorite foods she used to make when she had enough ingredients to make it.

How he got Misha: one of his junior high friends had to move away before freshman year and owned / bred a crap ton of rabbits. He gave Zig one of the bunnies for free; his mom orders rabbit food for the store and they store-use it to feed Misha.

He is a massive fan of alternative bands. All Time Low, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Sublime, & Fall Out Boy are his faves

Him and Maya would sing out loud to Panic! At the Disco during Whisperhug rehearsals.

Adam and Zig became really good friends during Whisper hug.

He was devastated when he found out Adam died, but considering he was toggling with his own emotional turmoil after Cam’s death he couldn’t of attended the memorial service the Degrassi community held for him. It was all too fresh.

His little brother, Zakhar (Zak for short) is the complete opposite of him and is on the spectrum. He’s super freaking intelligent, is a little scientist, and is obsessed with anything space.

Before he got kicked out him and his brother were two peas in a pod :’)

Even though his brother was nowhere as good at it, he took him out skateboarding

While staying at the Matlins when he first started cooking he almost burnt the house down

Mama Mat was pissed but understanding about it because Zig finally found something he was good at

Also binge watched Hell’s Kitchen and Food Network while residing with the Matlin’s

Tried baking but just can’t get into it like he can with cooking

His boss Chef Kaz became a second mom to him

He's actually really good at art, loves sketching portraits of landscapes

Prefers black and white though :)

Towards the end of season 12, sometime before Karma Police I think that's when Zig joined the gang, but was obviously discreet about it because he literally just joined it. this is just my personal head canon following context clues. I noticed Zig and Damon sporting new threads (Damon has a nicer jacket, and different pair of jeans other than his uniform khakis in Karma Police P.T. 1 & 2) Also if you pay attention in Zombie Pt. 1 when he shows up to the Torres party, he has a phone. But merely a few episodes ago he referred to himself as, “the idiot who can’t afford a phone.”

Damon joined Tiny’s gang first, then Zig. But Damon moved out to a different neighborhood and got caught up with the enemy gang. I headcanon that their leader got arrested so Damon took over forming his own gang.

Zig got his phone through Tiny’s gang, specifically Vince. It just makes the most sense to me.

Tiny was blunt and told him to get a haircut and cut all the sleeves off his shirts, the emo bangs didn’t make him intimidating enough

Post Next Class: Him and his family are finally talking again, he visits them on holidays or whenever he is in the Toronto area

He attended a culinary school in California thanks to Maya’s encouragement

She’s proud of her little successful chef :)

[ghost-kitty-cat]

Sick Headcanons! (I know it should be Darling's Headcanons next but because I ain't feeling well currently, I'm going to let my brain ramble about how I think the characters would react if you were sick....)

Casey (starting off with a silly one...) : let's be honest Casey is probably the one sick because not only will this boy ignore pollen allergies and continue to hang around a bunch of flowers but I also imagine he's not brightest crayon in the crayon box (not saying he's dumb, he's just not the brightest at times…)

Law & Desmond (putting these two together because I have the same Headcanon for both of them...): these two will become extremely worried and while you are sick, they will treat you like you are as fragile as glass... but at the same time, they will totally cuddle you if you want them to…

Neo: again Neo is probably the one whose sick and yet he would be more worried about you, he will hide away in his room so that he doesn't get you sick….

Dion & Gage (again putting these together since I have a similar Headcanon for both of them...): let's be honest, these two are probably the reason you're sick.... though I imagine once they see how sick you are now, they will immediately feel bad and try to comfort you as best as they can…

Kane: let's be honest before Dion and Bunny, I don't think Kane knew how to take care of a sick person but now that he knows Dion and Bunny, I totally imagine he's similar to Law & Desmond where he will somewhat treat you like you are as fragile as glass…

Cyril: don't know why but I like to imagine Cyril would be like "Oh my God You're Sick?! WE HAVE TO GET YOU TO THE HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW!" Basically overreacting a lot.... I mean I imagine Cyril may not show it but he does truly care about the people who he's close with…

Roman: another one who I imagine will lock himself away in his room... but not for the same reasons as Neo, I don't know why but I imagine Roman isn't used to others helping him…

Ellis: this boy will make you soup (though it will probably be burnt..) and he will bring out some old movies and books for you to watch or read while under a bunch of cozy blankets…

Marlowe: I just imagine this boy just awkwardly poking at you with a stick... I don't imagine he knows what it's like to take care of a sick person (he's basically like Kane if Kane never learned how to take care of a sick person..)

"Jacob": Comfort you?... hah! Don't be silly, this man will literally grab a thing of popcorn and just watch you be sick... just watching your suffering...with a large grin... (He would only help you if he decides that watching you be sick got boring.... he then would immediately go back to torturing you...)

...yippee! I think I'm done... I didn't really wanna do the listeners for this one... maybe in the future I will.... (I can't wait until not sick me reads this and sees what happens when I let my sick brain ramble...)

[loveydoveylex]

7, 8, and 9 for Rayman?

hi nightmares!! thank you for sending in an ask! hope your week has been well!

7: What’s their signature thing they like to do when annoying you? Putting their cold hands on your skin? Poking you right in your ticklish areas?

okay, I know I mentioned in my last post that I headcanon he's very warm and radiates a lot of body heat, but for this one single instance I'll disregard that because I LOVE the idea of him being a bit of an asshole and putting his cold hands right on my skin LMAO. that is such a thing he would do to annoy me. one of the few times he'll actually take off his gloves, and it's to jumpscare me like that PFFFT

I also really like the idea that he loves messing with my self insert's antennae and tail which would both be amusing to watch while also being just ever so slightly irritating 🤣 as long as he stays away from the actual star at the end of the tail - he learned the hard way that holy sweet jesus that thing BURNS. so, he ends up mostly opting for the antennae... he will occasionally poke em around and pretend they're bunny ears LMAO. my s/i secretly also finds this funny and adorable, but shhhh

8: What do they usually do to take care of you when you’re ill, and vice versa? (More importantly, do they burn the soup?)

ironically, while he's not normally super overprotective, once I'm sick, that flies out the window and it becomes his life mission to take care of me. he will practically stay glued next to me while I recover. ANYTHING I want, he will get for me. it's very sweet, but also a bit overbearing... he does eventually learn to give me a bit of space 😅

and of course, he'll make soup for me, and I headcanon him to be a very good cook (who's just... too lazy to really put that skill to use), so no burnt soup here!

9: What texts or phonecalls do you expect from them during the day? What do you text them during the day?

I'm not sure technology like mobile phones would be as widespread in the glade of dreams (though I'm not denying their existence, we have seen rayman using phones LOL)...

...but I would imagine that we'd never quite be far apart enough to feel the need to call or text eachother very often, heh! and even if we did, I feel like rayman is the type of mf who never checks his phone HAHAH

I like to imagine, though, that in texting, rayman prefers using emojis to communicate over typing out a bunch of messages. he thinks they're just handy dandy. so he will often just react to my messages with smileys and heart emojis hah. it's cute :')

[yhs-grian-rights]

Sorry to bother you, but what the hell happened with Sam? I knew he's a fuckin douche but what the hell happened here?

Well I've had alot of people ask what the hell went down, so I guess I'll answer it here!

A 'callout' post was posted on twitter, where they talked about all the weird content that is present in yhs,TS and KoV. The post itself I believe claims that it's not trying to cancel Sam the content creator, but meant to spread awareness, and dare they ask, have content warnings for their videos? Preposterous.

Anyway, it got people talking, good, people were getting educated and properly warned about the content. But that also gained the attention of Sam. One would usually apologize or clarify, or simply brush it off, but that would be too easy lol. I mean, holy shit Sam, dude if you're reading, you could have easily said 'oh that was 5 years ago, and I'm not like that anymore' and boom, it would have been done, I mean there was proof but still, most would have agreed. People can change. It's normal. I myself probably wouldn't have agreed with being called out if it was something that was done years ago, I think it's a shitty thing to do. But, instead of that, he DEFENDED himself, even said "I will continue making the same jokes where I see fit" WHICH IS??? HUH. He basically dug his own grave when he said that, where do you possibly see fit to make rape and suicide jokes???? In a Minecraft roleplay?? The fuck?

Anyway, I am not active on Twitter so I didn't see it all go down apart from screenshots and links. So I'll skip directly to the part that had to force me to get involved in this shit show.

Out of nowhere, Sam and Baylee (his sister) joined the server. The kinnie server (wheeze). And emediatelly a "discussion" as they called it, happened. It was 2 am so I was asleep at the time, but my friend rightfully handled the situation to have a proper discussion. You can see the highlights of it in Mika's post about it, where she simply asked that a content warning would be appropriate, seeing as kids watch his videos (which he denied, which is stupid cuz do you think 18 year olds were the target audience of yhs when it came out??? You don't have control over who watches your videos, but it's Minecraft roleplay, what do you expect lmao) the mod ended up kicking them out (we have bragging rights now for kicking Sam from our server lol).

But, the thing that strikes me odd is the fact that he looked through our chat. Looked through conversations of 14-17 year olds. He's almost 30. Yeah that sounds about right. He was trying to dig dirt on us. Found a "kill me" comment, and thought that yes, we too are as bad as him, because simply saying kill me is equivalent to showing a hanged block man on a video to millions of kids. Nice! Guess we're all cancelled!

Im sure some friends of Sam linger in the server. I've heard he's trying to doxx Mika, a minor, for documenting a conversation that was public in the server. Which is also incriminating.

No one is asking for him to be a saint, or even agree on what should and shouldn't be joked about. Humor is subjective after all, if he really wants, he can keep making those shitty jokes, it would be cool if he didn't! Yet again, young people watch those videos and it's kinda fucked up. But I won't be policing what you can and can't do, I don't have a life but come on I got better things to do lol. The thing everyone is asking for, is proper content warning, literally just add warnings in the description or title. You might find the jokes funny but you can't deny it's a sensitive issue. He warns people for swearing but not for dark humor? It's a bit silly.

Anyway yeah that's some of main stuff that's been going on. Were tired.

[star-puff]

hq boys + how they show “i love you”

a cute lil thing for valentine's day weekend! i am free feb 14th if anyone wanna hang for feb 14th, im not doing anything on feb 14th just lmk on feb 14th cuz i'm totally free to hang out or wtv on feb 14th

feat. bokuto, kita, akaashi, oikawa, osamu, atsumu

bokuto → gives you The Best hugs. he’s the type that will just come up behind you and hug you no matter the occasion, whether he’s happy or sad or if it’s just a regular ‘hello,’ he’s never the hesitant one when it comes to wrapping his arms around you. the best type of touchy and clingy, sometimes he doesn’t know how to express his feelings in words, so he hopes his hug will say what he can’t. bokuto’s safe space used to be the small corners he’d find to hide and curl up in, but now, he has you.

kita → will randomly give you sliced fruit on a plate. he probably noticed you were busy or stressed and wanted to help in whatever way he could, so he got some freshly harvested apples and oranges and thought eating it would make you feel better, even by just the tiniest bit. does the thing where he cuts the apples into bunny slices and is the resident expert in knifework so all his fruit peels look Immaculate. most likely got this habit from summers over at granny yumie’s house.

akaashi → leaves you little sticky notes around the house. includes cute things like ‘i got you a few slices of cake’ posted on the fridge because you’d offhandedly mentioned wanting to try that new bakery near his workplace, or when he’s out of town for a long business trip and you discover a sticky note hidden in the cupboard that says ‘i miss you :(’. though, he’s always a romantic at heart, so nothing really beats the note posted on the bathroom mirror that says ‘i love you’ that you always see first thing in the morning.

oikawa → gives out free pda like its the mf lottery. whenever you’re with him there’s always a hand on your back, arm around your shoulder, random kisses that always surprise you no matter how long you’ve been together. soooo  touchy, oikawa likes to show off how lovey-dovey the two of you are together and how happy the relationship is, because he’s just Dramatic like that. one time you tried to do that prank where you wouldn’t hold his hand back and he was pouty at you for the rest of the day.

osamu → makes you homecooked meals. whether it be a fancy michelin star dish or a comforting bowl of soup, he loves sharing his passion with you, loves that one of the two most important things in his life can coexist with one another. osamu is a firm believer that emotions can be translated through food--whatever he makes his food with, the person who eats it will experience it as well. and really, there’s no stronger emotion osamu feels for you than love.

atsumu → he tries his hardest at stuff he knows he’s bad it because he knows it’s things you enjoy. he looks into that book series you were telling him about, listens to your top playlists on spotify, even tries his hand at cooking because he sees how your eyes light up when osamu brings over his bi-monthly dinners for you to try. atsumu tries super hard to impress you with his meals, stealing osamu’s recipes because hey, all he has to do is follow the instructions, right? wrong. he misread one line and it all went downhill from there. luckily, you just happened to be there before he burnt the whole damn kitchen down and saved your house from accidental arson, and decide that dinner making is now a joint effort. atsumu is bad at some things, horrible even, but maybe it’s not as bad if you’re there with him.

[chelsgal1993]

Hey there little red (werewolf Dabi x reader)

This one has triggers. Noncon and breeding kink. Anyway, you have been warned. Don't read if it makes you uncomfortable and please don't report as it takes away from people who request different works from me.

Just so you know you can request work by sending me a message.

S.S.

"sweetheart, you will be careful on the way to your grandmothers," your mother asks. As she hands you the basket of food and your red hood.

"Mother, I have made this trip plenty of times before. This time will be no different," you say smiling at her.

"I just worry. Lots of young women like yourself have been going missing. The other villagers are saying its werewolves. Just promise to stay on the path and find shelter before dark, " she says.

"Okay mother, I love you," you say as you head out the door.

The tales the villagers have been telling seemed a little far fetched to you. Well, until one of your friends went missing.

Sticking to the path you could hear rustling in the bushes. You turned to see no one. You saw a beautiful field with pretty flowers. You decided to stop and pick some for your grandmother. You weren't even halfway to your destination and the sun had begun to set. You hadn't found shelter. Not that you were all that tired. Since there was no place for you to stay yet you decided to keep going. Maybe if you just stayed on the path you would be fine.

"Well well well, what's a pretty thing like you doing out here at dark. Didn't anyone tell you monsters lurk out here at night," a voice rang out.

You looked around but do not see anyone.

"W-who is there," you ask shakily.

Out from the shadows stepped a young man. He had skin that looked like it was burnt and held together by metal. You noticed his crazy blue eyes and the last thing you noticed was the ears and tail. Those resembled a dog. He had huge claws that looked like he could tear you apart easily.

You shuddered as he stepped onto the path.

"You should feel lucky I am here to protect you, " he said with a vicious smile.

You turn on your heel and begin to run down the path. You couldn't hear him following you. So you slowed down and turned to see if he was following. He was nowhere to be seen. So you came to a stop to catch your breath, only to have it knocked out of you as you fell to the ground.

"come now doll, did you really think you could outrun me, " he asks in a low chuckle.

"P-please let me go. You can have whatever you want from the basket," you say.

He was on top of you pinning you to the ground.

"why would I want anything from the basket when you smell much better than what's inside the basket, " he says with a smirk.

You began to tremble in fear. This monster was talking about how good you smelled. He was definitely going to eat you. He licked up your neck from your shoulder to your ear.

"If you're going to eat me can you at least make my death as painless as possible," you say letting out a sob.

He looked at you for a moment before he began to laugh.

"I am not going to eat you. Well, maybe not in that way," he says as he raises a clawed hand and swipes down your chest exposing your breasts. You gasp at the sudden coldness. He dives his face in and grabs one of your nipples with his mouth. His hand running up your thighs and removes your panties. He lifts his face away from your breasts to smell your panties. Then shoves them in the pocket of his jacket. He takes his mouth and latches it onto the other nipple.

As all this is happening you look for anything to help you get out of the situation. That's when you spot a tree branch. It doesn't look too heavy. Maybe just enough to knock him off you so you can run again. You grab hold of the branch and bring it down and strike him. You manage to slip from under him and run for it grabbing the basket on the way. The next village wasn't too far off. You could see the lights in the distance.

You ran as fast as your legs would carry you. Down the path to the village. You bang on the door of an inn. The innkeeper sees your appearance and rushes you in quickly. She grabs you a blanket to wrap around yourself. She asks you what happened and you tell her. She helps check you for wounds. When she realizes there are none she quickly gives you a room key and tells you to take a bath. Giving you a towel and some clothes since the top of your dress was ripped. After your bath, she brings you up some soup and bread before telling you goodnight.

The next morning you woke early and headed down the stairs of the inn. The old woman from last night was at the front desk. She had set a bag of fresh clothes for you in a bag on your door. She washed your cloak and gave you a new dress. You had tried to pay the old woman for letting you stay at her inn and for the clothes. She refused payment. Handing you something to eat for breakfast and told you to be safe for the rest of your trip.

You thanked her again and waved goodbye. You got onto the path and began the rest of your trip. The path was nicely shaded and there was a slight breeze.  You heard some rustling and looked towards the noise getting ready to run. A cute little bunny jumped out causing you to jump slightly.

"careful it can probably smell fear," you recognized the voice as the one from last night. Before you could turn toward him he grabbed you from behind hugging you to his front.

"what do you want from me, " you asked him trying your best not to let your voice waver.

"Well I could smell you the second you walked into the forest. I thought to myself I had to have whatever smelt so good, " he said.

"You already said you weren't going to eat me. So what do you want me for," you ask again.

"Look at you being brave. I had to wait all night for you to come out of that village. Slept in the bushes nearby and when I smelled you. I followed you for a while to make sure you were away from the village. Can't have you causing too much of a commotion and have people out hunting for us. Now listen, I am going to take you. You will be mine and we will have pups," he states.

You wait for the opportunity to kick him where the sun doesn't shine and make a run for it. You heard him howl in pain but you didn't look back. Afraid if you stopped he would catch you. After a couple of minutes of running, you were yet again knocked to the ground.

"you sure are feisty. That's fine. It will be more fun when I break you, " he snarls.

He swipes at the new dress ripping the top and continues until you are left naked under him. He manages to tie your wrists together with his belt. After he is done he grabs your hips and lowers himself and licks your delicate area. you begin to sob.

"I told you I wasn't going to eat you. Well not in the way you thought," he says with a chuckle.

He continues to lick your pussy. When he deems you wet enough he inserts a finger while he licks, sucks, and nips at your clit. You give out a strangled moan. He inserts a second finger pumping into you for a bit and then begins a scissoring motion. After a minute he stands and drops his pants to the ground letting you get an eye full of what his cock looked like. It's was big and didn't look like a humans at all. It had a bulb at the end. You couldn't imagine that going in you let alone any of it.

He got down and flipped you over angling your hips so your ass was in the air. You could feel him push the tip in.

"Please. That won't fit, " you sobbed out.

"Don't worry doll. I will take good care of you

The knot will be the worst part for you but we will work up to that," he says as he pushes more in. In a swift movement, he pushes the rest in up to the knot. He moves in and out at a rough pace giving you no time to adjust.

You felt like he was ripping you apart. You scream out in pain as he continues to thrust into you. You could only scream and sob with an occasional moan thrown into the mix. You could feel his pace become sloppy and when he was close to done he pressed himself in you biting your neck and pushing the knot into you. He holds himself in you for some time. You can feel his seed seeping out of you when he does finally pull out. You were to tired to get up or move.

"Heh. Tired? That's okay. I will carry you to our home, " he says with a chuckle.

"Our home," you ask a little confused.

"Mhm. You are my mate now. You belong to me. You could never go back to your old home anyway. My mark is visible for everyone to see. They would banish you from your village anyway," he says.

You begin to cry knowing now there is no escape from him.  He continues to talk to you saying how you will have his pups for the rest of your life. He says how he will keep you safe and you will have whatever it is you desire as long as you are good for him. As he walks you to his home you can only sob. You would never see your mother or grandmother again. When you meet his eyes he smiles down at you. Not a comforting smile, but a possessive smile.

[yandereocs]

Yantober- Day 3: Follower

Pairing- Obedient x reader

She was following you again.

She did this a lot. Whenever she has free time, she likes to trail behind you. You don't think she does this in a creepy way. She probably just does this because she was trained to follow her owner.

But you're not her owner, so you don't know why she's doing this.

Then again, she often says things like "I belong to you" and "Do with me as you please". You may not be her official owner, but she clearly sees you as somebody who's above her.

It creeps you out.

You know it's not her fault. You know the only reason why she acts like this is because of the horrible training her owner puts her through. But you can't help but feel grossed out at the thought of this adult women treating you like a divine being while she thinks she's some sort of animal.

You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and saw the bunny hybrid shuffling her feet. She doesn't follow closely behind. She always keeps a decent distance between the two of you and she never makes eye contact. She rarely ever makes noises, too. That's what freaks you out the most. You can't ever hear her approaching.

You shake away your thoughts and go back to the task you were doing. Making food. Obedient had offered to make you something a few hours ago, but you declined. You don't want to use her. It just feels wrong.

You began to zone out, thinking about escaping. It would definitely be easy. The pet isn't allowed outside without permission, so it's not like she can chase you. She's always busy with work, too. She wouldn't notice if you were gone for a good couple of hours.

Admittedly, you thought about escaping all the time at first. Anyone would. But once you saw how the bunny hybrid was treated, you couldn't go through with it. The poor girl was treated like shit every day and her only source of comfort is you. Are you really going to take that away from her?

You were jerked back to reality when you felt heat on your hand. You quickly jerked it back. The soup you had been making boiled over the pot and burned your hand.

Before you could even do anything, Obedient was already taking care of the issue. She was hurriedly turning off the stove and pushing away the pot. She then turned to you, her single eye not making contact.

She reached towards your burnt hand before jerking it back. "Sorry. Sorry." She whispering. You didn't know what she was apologizing for. You never did.

"It's fine." You said, rushing towards the sink to put cold water over the burn. The soup just barely touched your hand. The burn obviously hurt, but it didn't feel too bad. It would probably just leave your hand a bit red for a few minutes, but that's all.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have-I should have focused on you first." Obedient was mumbling. She does this a lot. Doubting her decisions. It didn't really matter to you. You didn't even think she could do anything. She fliches away from any form of contact, so she probably didn't want to touch your hands.

That's probably why she jerked her hands away from yours.

"It's whatever. It doesn't even hurt that much." You said, turning off the sink. The pain had become a dull throb. It'll go away soon.

"Sorry." Obedient whispered again. Your eye twitched. Again, this wasn't even her fault, but her constant apologizing could get on your nerves sometimes.

"It's fine." You said, your voice coming out sharper than you meant it to. Obedient tensed up at your tone before going on her knees. Oh boy. She doesn't this whenever she thinks you're mad at her.

"I'm sorry. Pl-please punish this useless pet. I didn't focus on your-your needs and I annoyed you. I don't deserve any mercy." She stammered quietly. You sighed. You didn't want to hurt her. You didn't even think about it!

"I'm not-" You sighed again. She wasn't going to understand if you told her you didn't want to harm her. She never did. "Just...can you make my food for me?"

Obedient nodded with a quiet whine. She stood up in one fluid movement and continued where you left off on your food. You heaved a deep breath and went to sat down.

Some time passed and you finished eating. You looked down at your feet. The bunny hyrbid always sits down on the floor next to you. You honestly think the sitting is worst than the following. At least you don't see her when she follows you. But seeing her sit on the ground instead of a chair weirds you out.

You stood up and placed your bowl in the sink. You wanted to go back to the room. You started to walk up the stairs when you heard shuffling. You turned your head and saw that Obedient had stood up and was ready to follow you. You sighed.

She acts like some sort of lost puppy, which is weird because she's not even a wolf hybrid. You continued towards your room, ignoring Obedient's presence. She'll leave you alone once you get to your room. She never follows you in there.

The next day came and you opened the door. It was already the afternoon so you were hungry. You looked down at the ground.

Obedient was sitting by your door. Ready to follow you, someone who she believed is her second owner.

You exhaled loudly before walking past her.

The bunny hybrid silently stood up and began to follow you, her gaze booring into the back of your head.

She wanted to make you happy. Andre always seemed pleased when she followed him, so she was hoping it would have the same effect on you. It didn't, though. She didn't really know what to do.

That was until the next week, when you had found the pet kneeled before you with a whip in her hands. She obviously thought that hurting her would make you happy.

She looked up at you and forced a smile.

You looked down at her with concern. There really was no way to change her mindset. She really did think that she was just some lowly pet who's only good for following orders.

And it was going to stay like that.

[pctaldrunk]

* muse favorites:   preferences.

Animal:    is it self absorbed to say foxes? dogs, cats, bunnies, hamsters, a tiger here and there. just no snakes. never snakes.

Flowers:   peach blossoms, lotuses, wisteria, sunflowers

Scent:     sandalwood and other general incense, fruit, peach blossoms, something baking in the oven, burnt sugar, vanilla

Coffee:    whipped cream the height of at least 1/3 of the cup, 3 shots of chocolate syrup, way too much sugar and milk, lover of seasonal drink menus

Tea:     sugar or honey, lemon and milk, cute cups and saucers and cake and assorted finger foods

Drink:   peach wine : ‘ ) 

Alcoholic Beverage:   peach wine x 2 : ‘’’ ) 

Food:   honestly anything sweet, fish soup, noodles, all manner of pancake, rice cake, chicken (she may be a goddess but she’s still a fox goddess)

Dessert:   fruit with cream, cake of any kind, cream puffs (maybe pastry in general), mochi (red bean paste filling) - to be fair I feel she’s kind of a collector of dessert. she’s going to try anything at least once.

Article of Clothing:   not really an article of clothing but, hairpin.

Candy:    sugar paintings, maltose lollies, cotton candy, hi-chews

Left or Right Handed?:   right handed

Sloppy or Neat Writing?:   that would depend on who’s eyes will see the writing. perfectly capable of stately calligraphy but she can’t even read her own notes from class

Clean or Messy Home?:   comfortably cluttered. i imagine she owns a lot of useless things that are just sort of scattered around as eclectic decoration.

Shower in Morning or Night?:   night, though to be entirely fair, if she’s feeling like a shower/bath in the morning she’ll have it anyway, so she’ll just end up taking two.

Tasks Done Early or Last Minute?:   oh yeah definitely last minute. all nighters right before a big event let’s go.

Love Language?:   physical touch, words of affirmation, acts of service, food, faith, protecting someone with your life

Believe in Love at First Sight?:    yes and no. believes in loving at first sight, unsure about loving well or right.

tagged by   :   @weidizi​ 

tagging   :   IDK STEAL IT FROM ME <3

[circleofcavan]

Nebraska

Macey daydreams about spending winter break somewhere else, with some envy sprinkled in there, too; suite shenanigans and some $300 Bose noise-cancelling headphones. One-shot. Content warning: themes of parental neglect, mentions of alcohol use, smoking + abuse.

(Read it on AO3 here.)

There are moments when Macey wishes everything could just be stable and balanced.

“Normal” is too much to ask for; it’s a big ticket item that’s just out of reach, that she hasn’t worked quite hard enough for just yet. Instead, she’d settle for stable: an ideal situation with no boat-rocking, no absent fathers or narcissistic mothers, no forced appearances or quick-changes in the back of limousines, no hidden hangovers, no concealer on the bruises along her upper arm. Stable. Secure.

Idealistic. At this point in her life, there’s no chance she’ll ever know balance. If she keeps down the path that Gallagher has her going down, it’ll be a constant chase – maybe not a sprint, but a jog, and even that can get exhausting after a while.

She envies Cammie, even despite her hardships. Cammie has support, she has crumbs of normalcy to cling to, a warm home to run to during breaks and tight spots and panicked moments. She has options, even when she thinks she doesn’t. Even when she feels like every door is closed, there are always more.

Macey watches her chatting with Bez and Liz, her feet curled under a blanket, back to the wall of their suite. Cammie has a slight smile on her face, a fullness in her cheeks that made a return when she did, another escape on a lark that she magically realized had consequences; Bex is trying to reverse engineer a heist, Liz is French braiding Cam’s hair, which is brown now, thinner but longer. She can only slightly hear her roommates over the music she’s blasting, $300 Bose noise-cancelling headphones be damned, but she can imagine the conversation, more or less – more homework trouble, more boy trouble, more girl trouble, more acne trouble, more TV cliffhanger trouble, more “I can’t believe I got a B on this test” trouble, more normalcy. A feeling she’ll never have.

The conversation halts for a moment, all of them on the precipice of laughter, but they look to her, expectant, waiting on an answer; she points to her headphones and down to her book (Art of War, of course), and loudly yells “What?” as though she’s clueless and miffed, out of the loop. Bex laughs, Liz joins in, Cammie smiles and her volume goes back up. Stability. Everything is level again.

She’s damn great at playing the part, something she was born to do. (Is she talking about herself or about Cammie? She’s not sure. Projecting, much?) Macey is the perfect daughter, even when she’s a rebel; she’s the supermodel even when she’s strung out and hungover in the Great Hall at breakfast, stumbling through Farsi between sips of Gatorade; she’s America’s Sweetheart, Vermont’s darling, even though she hasn’t been back to Vermont in years. (Not that there’s anything there for her, aside from a hiking trail where she used to run or smoke cigs, plus the parking lot where she had her first kiss – awkward, sloppy and too much teeth – and her childhood home – her permanent address, she should say, because it’s not like she’s ever really felt like it was a home for her at all.)

They’re talking about winter break plans now. “Nebraska”  floats past the music, clinging to her brain, cloying and sweet. What she wouldn’t give for a proper, home-cooked meal, a scratchy wool blanket, a too-warm-but-too-cold room with a draft. Farm smells. Barn chores. Callouses. Sweat. Burnt coffee in smooth metal thermoses, a cold winter sun, some dustings of snow, a hot mug of potato soup – a too tight pickle jar lid. It’s so vivid it hurts, digging into her brain like it’s eating her alive from the inside out, starting at her brain and burrowing its way into her heart. Nebraska.

She can only imagine what that reality would be like; there’s something lived-in about it that she won’t be able to come close to touching, an inherent familiarity that she’s just not cut out to experience. Her winter break will likely be Aspen or Geneva, maybe both, and that’s a dream, too – she’ll probably see some classmates there as well, the ones that fit the Gallagher mold, the one that she’s apparently supposed to fit, too.

The trip will be booked as a family affair, but her parents will be anything but present, her mom chasing after seasonal ski patrol staff, college students in their prime, her dad on “work calls,” probably brokering some deal that will just line his pockets a bit more than his congressional salary. She’ll be drunk and alone, partying with ski bunnies or diplomats’ kids, settling into her old-money-rich-heiress role like she has so many times before.

Maybe if she’s lucky she’ll be able to slip away – if they’re preoccupied for a few days into the weeklong trip, she could pack a bag and hitchhike her way a few towns over, blending in like she’s new in town and visiting extended family, weaving a cover story for herself and patching it up every time she gets caught in a lie. She might have normal clothes on but she’s still anything but; they’ll remark on her beauty and her perfectly-manicured nails, ones that wouldn’t be in such pristine condition if she were just a girl from just a farm in just Nebraska.

Then she’ll get call after call to her phone, her parents demanding an appearance because it’s time to fly home now, and she’ll have to abandon the fake life she created for herself in this little mountain town, the cover that was just on the verge of being blown. She won’t be a girl from Nebraska with boy trouble and homework trouble and normal trouble, she’ll be the Macey McHenry, heiress and stone-cold bitch, sugary-sweet but too much to handle.

She’s not sure how Bex was able to get on her bed without her knowing, but she’s got a hand on the right ear of her headphones before Macey can turn to stop her with a bewildered laugh. “We’ve been trying to get your attention for ages,” Bex says, sitting back on her haunches, glancing at Cam and Liz. “What movie do you want to watch tonight? Tina’s running a Bourne marathon, but we were thinking Clueless, but then we realized you haven’t picked a movie yet, so it’s your call.”

Macey slides the headphones off fully now, settling them around her neck. She pauses her music. She pauses herself. Maybe this is the closest to stable and balanced that she’ll get: the closest thing to normal is four teenage girls watching 80s movies in their pajamas, LUSH masks smeared on their faces, shitty manicures and burnt microwave popcorn, falling asleep on the floor next to an overheated laptop and projector and her roommates, snoring softly.

Tomorrow’s Saturday. She could sleep in, pretend like the meal she’s having is home-cooked. She could wander around the halls and act like this was the home she deserved all along, because it was, and maybe even talk a bit more about winter break plans. Macey knows enough social graces to not invite herself to spaces where she might not be welcome, but maybe it could happen; maybe things will balance out in her favor. It might not be Nebraska, it might be London, or maybe it might just be here, in the mansion, if she can talk her way into it. The only people who normally hang back anyway are ones who either can’t go home or won’t go home, and Macey surely falls into both or either.

But that’s neither here nor there, and they’re still waiting on an answer. Macey dogears her book page, the same page she’s been stuck on this entire time, reading the same paragraph over and over, and sets it aside. “Clueless for sure,” she finally says, forcing a grin, cutting a glance at Cammie. “But only if we stay up way too late talking about how much Paul Rudd kind of looks like J-O-S-H.” (He doesn't.)

Liz squeals, Bex laughs, and Cammie blushes. Mace flashes her a knowing smile and grabs her blanket, ushering them up, while Bex says something about stealing cookie dough from the kitchen. Liz is convinced that they need to swipe Madame Dabney’s projector, even though there’s a perfectly good one in their room (apparently the one that isn’t theirs is 10 times more energy efficient and smells like the essential oil of their choice), and Cammie is watching her, grabbing her hand, helping her up. Cam’s hand doesn’t have callouses yet, but it will, and Macey thinks about what they’ll feel like after break. Will they be rough and ragged, or torn, exposing new, smooth, bright pink skin, the outline just barely visible?

Macey snaps back to reality for a moment; Bex and Liz have left on their respective conquests, and Cam is lingering near the door. “You coming?” she asks, gesturing to the hallway with her chin, and Macey can’t help but remember the annoyed (and annoying) girl that she met on her first visit, the one who just wouldn’t leave her alone. “You know we can’t let them traipse around by themselves; Liz will end up with a sprained ankle and Bex will probably burn the place to the ground.”

“Let’s do this,” Macey shoots back, grabbing a compact fire extinguisher that Liz had made in the labs a semester prior. This was normal. And she’d create balance and stability where she could, starting with her two renegade roommates. “I’m right behind you.”

[ikeservant]

Uwuwu hello it’s been a while hope you are staying safe!! Can I get some general fluffy headcanons for Kenshin and Ieyasu with MC? Thank ya😘😘

Howdy again! I’ve been staying pretty safe and thank you for requesting this cuz this is good fluffiness writing time to take my mind off of work and other stressy things rn ^.^/. Hope u like it!

Kenshin:

-It is law that MC has to hold his hand in public places to both make sure MC is safe in arm’s length and cuz he just rlly wants to hold hands.

-If MC had fabric scraps they’d work together to design little outfits for the bunnies to keep them warm in the winter.

-Literally ANYTHING MC does is 100% golden talent in his eyes. MC could literally make burnt tree bark and he would absolutely love it just because MC made it, not even recognizing how bad MC’s creations are. If anybody else disagrees, they will be tried for treason, no exceptions.

-Every activity he does feels 200 x brighter with MC. Noticed that sake alone doesn’t taste as good as it does when with MC, so he loves evening times when they can just chill on the porch with sake to unwind and cuddle while talking about their day. MC doesn’t even need to drink, the mere presence of MC makes everything so much better.

-If he’s being extra tough and grumpy on the training recruits, Sasuke will sneak to MC and tell her to come to the training grounds. Immediately he’ll smile (recruits are blessed and shocked at the sight) and let the recruits take a break so he can spend time w/ MC.

-Can tell if anything is wrong w/ MC like it’s a sixth sense. Will immediately be on a mission to take care of anything he can for MC. Slight little shiver twitch? Immediately blanket time! Slight downcast gaze? Hug and questions to soothe MC instantly. His main goal in life since falling for MC has been to support and keep her safe and loved and he will do everything in his power to just that.

-Big spoon all the way. Sleepy time cuddles involve him enveloping MC to keep her warm and to know she’s safe in his arms in these unpredictable times.

 Ieyasu

-Also handholding boi. Will bashfully make the excuse that its so MC doesn’t trip but we all know the reason why.

-MC is one of the only humans alive to see the sight of Ieyasu laughing. Will usually be bc MC said something dumb/meme-worthy, made a funny face, or is already laughing really hard. His laugh is the one with the closed eyes with lil “pfft” giggles and smile with a lil bashful fist over his mouth. Blessed sight

-Sometimes has a slight smile at random times when just thinking about MC. If any of the warlords ask/tease him about why he’s smiling, he will deny ever having a smile.

-Likes to tease MC and call her playfully mean nicknames like “Dork” or “Dope” just to poke lighthearted fun but if someone else calls MC names or insults her he gonna have fighting words. MC is still 100% his angel. If MC takes his name-calling literally and feels hurt, he will be kicking himself for days.

-Will treasure anything MC gives him. A little rock with googly eyes? He’ll be going into battle with that in his pocket. Literally will keep anything that reminds him of MC and keep them safely stored to both keep them safe so he can take them out to reminisce from time to time and to keep others from finding out and teasing him.

-He has strong maternal instincts in his gut. MC is starting to get sick? Throw that sucker in bed and give her some soup. CANNOT stand by if MC is doing something that could injure herself in any possible way, getting antsy and trying to convince her not to be a dummy and lightly scold her if she does it anyway and gets hurt, but it’s just cuz he doesn’t want MC to get hurt again.

-90% likes to be the bigger spoon to feel MC safe in his arms but if he’s having a rough day and having flashbacks to his past, he will become a calm warm bundle in MC’s arms if she envelops him in her embrace, finally feeling like he’s safe and protected

-Internally has a cute-o-meter that makes him fanboy and gush over MC doing literally anything, and when that meter gets to overload, restraint will break and internal will become external and MC will be in his arms in 1.2 seconds.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.8

Shopping with Shiro was god awkward. Being a local, everyone was too damn cheerful as they did polite thing and say hello, some asking who Shiro was, and another pondering the question which would lead to rumours at a later date. Lance didn’t like to brag, but he was pretty well known in Garrison for making a “haunted house” his home. There weren’t any ghosts there, only the long dead skeletons of rats and mice, and the occasional spot of mould. He was also well known as being a bit “odd”, 26 with no partner struck some of the older community as a bit strange, as did the fact that he’d live in such a large home alone. Still, Lance blended himself in as seamlessly as he could. Earlier in the year he’d thought about picking up a few shifts at a local bar, only to change his mind over the fear of somehow cutting him and cursing the local drunks. Plus, people really sucked when they were drunk. He was more than likely to blow a fuse if he had to be flirted with every single damn shift simply because he looked at the peak of his youth.

Sticking to his usual routine of picking random things that he knew he could make a meal from, he found himself schooling Shiro in the ways of bulk savings, and discount brands. Shiro didn’t know how to process that he was a vampire who ate garlic... other foods in general. He really wasn’t living up to his role as a vampire at all, yet, despite how hard he tried not to, part of him decided it had to go and like Shiro as a person, despite the fact he’d clearly vandalised his own car and lied through his teeth when they’d met. Buying way too much food, the dude at the check out pretty much had bug eyes when it came to loading up the belt, because Lance never brought as much he was right then, then paying for it as Shiro insisted on placing the bags back in the trolley, as it was “the least he could do, all things considered”. Lance kept trying to consider him a pain, but now he was actually wondering if this had been how his family felt when he’d suddenly come back home different to the rest of them. He wanted to ring his Mami and ask her advice over the whole matter, but the idea of her baby boy living with two men who kill vampires for a living would send into a fit of hysterics over his safety.

Taking his keys from him, Shiro was good at insisting things. Insisting he needed his rest, and that he should cover his face so the sun’s rays wouldn’t burn up his skin. Shiro was fast feeling like a big brother that Lance had desperately wanted, but denied he needed. The fact that Shiro didn’t seem to want to murder him left him with all kinds of conflicted feelings that were too muddled to sort out. He was a vampire, Shiro was a hunter, that was the black and white of it, those damn shades of grey in between were making all of this far more difficult than it needed to be.

A tad too proud of an inanimate object, his bronco was a good girl, not starting for Shiro until the third time he tried to turn over the engine. Not used to the closeness of the H on the clutch, Shiro ground the gears more than once, then proceeded to bunny hop over that damn ditch in Lance’s driveway. Forget Shiro being the older brother, he was giving Lance’s younger self a run for his money, though his problem had been that even at accelerated speeds things seemed slower than the normal speed limit. His glasses helped with that, as had keeping the one car for his adult life. Bunny hopping to a stop in front of Lance’s house, Shiro shot him an embarrassed look, Lance quick to reassure him he wasn’t about to tell anyone over the mistreatment of his beloved girl.

Getting the shopping inside was a whole other drama as he wasn’t allowed to help with that either. Sent to his living room, he found Shiro had made himself at home, cleaning up the trashed remains into something more put together yet nowhere near Lance’s high standards. He still needed a new coffee table, provided he’d be living long enough to enjoy it. With that room not needing dire attention, Lance found himself in his kitchen, not trusting Shiro to be near any open fire unsupervised. The clock already read 4:30pm, a little, lot, later than he would have liked the time to be. Lugging the last of the shopping bags in, Shiro hefted a sigh of relief before dropping himself down in the first available dining chair. Boy, if the man thought things ended there, he was in for a tough ride.

Waiting all of thirty second for Shiro to start relaxing, Lance clapped his hands, earning himself a groan

“What are you doing sitting down?”

“Wha...?”

“The real work starts now that we’re home. We’ve got a dinner party to cook for, and don’t think your lack of kitchen prowess is getting you out of it. You’re staying under my roof, which means you’re helping out. Besides, “Sleeping Beauty”, is gonna wanna eat sometime before he expires of old age”

Shiro sighed as he rose to his feet

“You’re right. You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“If you’re asking if I’m serious about my friends enjoying themselves, then yes I am. If you’re asking about Keith, he’s got a nice enough face, but that’s as far as it goes. He won’t eat what I cook, unless you want to lie to him about it. So, you’re helping, that way you can tell him the nasty blood sucker didn’t taint his precious food”

“That comment... it, um, it really got under your skin, didn’t it?”

“It’d be like me slandering all you hunters as wild beast killing Barbarians. I’ve come across them before, it’s kind of hard not to when you’ve been around a while, they usually prefer to be more direct with their kills”

Shiro nodded, his left hand moving to grab above his elbow on his right arm, as if Lance’s words had triggered him to remember some deep self-conscience secret

“I guess it is. But for the most part we are”

“Touché. I don’t want to admit this, but I don’t think I hate you as much as I should”

“For a vampire you’re not that bad”

“I could have told you that. Now, what does Keith like eating?”

“Something quick and easy”

“Thanks for that. Let’s put it this way, is there anything he’s allergic too?”

“He’s a bit iffy when it comes to milk... I was going to try make him some soup”

Lance couldn’t count the number of ways that could have gone wrong

“I can do soup. I got chicken today, so we’ll do chicken and vegetable for “Madam Dramatics”. You’ll be in charge of slicing things. I assume you’re skilled with a blade enough to know not to stab the vampire with pointy end”

“I’ve been around a blade or two”

“Good. Wash your hands then wash the vegetable”

Shiro stared at him blankly, Lance groaning

“Okay. I’ll wash the vegetables. You can work a peeler right?”

“I don’t know...”

Lance cast Shiro a serious frown. Vegetable peelers had come a long way since Lance was a child, but there were now easier than ever. Noticing the minute movements of Shiro’s lips, Lance wanted to smack him, yet instead he did the adult thing and used his words

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little”

“You know what, I take it all back. You’re not like an older brother, you’re like a dead beat father. Get to work on the vegetables while I start on the rest”

Having Shiro in the kitchen nearly ruined the joy of cooking forever. Lance didn’t really enjoy cooking the way Hunk did, but giving up on human food wasn’t an option when he was just another normal human being. He felt he’d be giving into his curse to give it up completely, and if he had the money, why not spoil his friends with some really good food? Asking Shiro to use the bones to make a chicken broth resulted in the bones being burnt. Then Shiro left the tea towel a fraction too close to the stove top and that started to smoulder. By the time the clock struck five, and that big beautiful best friend of his, also known as Hunk, walked through the kitchen door, Lance was nearly crying tears of frustration. He’d tasted Shiro’s soup, then promptly rushed to the kitchen sink to throw up, tiny flecks of metal stared up at him and Lance cursed Keith again. Walking up to Hunk, Lance wrapped his arms around him

“Thank god, you’re here”

Patting Lance’s back, Hunk laughed nervously

“Um, thanks, man. Hello, Shiro. Nice to, um, see you again”

“Keith left his camera behind, he’s bad in the morning without his caffeine. Lance offered to let us stay for dinner. We came to collect it. You know how it is”

Hunk knew how unhappy Lance was about house guests. His friends knew that staying in his house wasn’t an invite just any old random got, unless it came from Pidge

“Man, it’s lucky that you left it here and not somewhere else. Not everyone is as kind hearted as Lance”

With his face so close to Hunk’s neck, Lance could hear Hunk’s heartbeat. He could see the veins that carried that fresh blood to and from Hunk’s brain. He’d never feed from him, but Lance was definitely having control issues. He needed blood, he needed to bring himself back under control. His body felt like he was wearing the meat suit of a stranger

“Man, are you okay? You’re totally bundled up”

“I’m fine, Hunkeroo. Just a bit of a sniffle, probably from that window breaking. Shiro’s volunteered to be your sous chef for the evening, thought I wouldn’t trust him with anything other than the chicken soup”

Hunk nodded, Lance stepping back out of his hold. Thank god he was so thickly padded Hunk couldn’t feel him shivering

“Wait, if Shiro’s here, where’s Keith?”

Lance opened his mouth, but it was Shiro’s voice that piped up

“Keith doesn’t like to admit it, but he gets pretty bad car sickness. He needed a nap before dinner to sleep it off”

Hunk nodded sympathetically

“I get that too. It’s horrible. I’ve got this new medication I’m on that really seems to help, I can give him the name if it’ll help”

“I don’t see the harm”

Shiro lied so naturally that Lance wondered if Keith did get car sick. Keith’s bad arse image was in tatters now. The next time the idiot tried to pick a fight him, Lance wasn’t going to hesitate in teaching his ego a lesson

“Right, well. Shiro’s here to help, he can’t be left unwatched. This one has the skill of burning water in an off kettle. I need to check my work phone, and I want to check in with Miriam”

Shiro questioned

“Miriam?”

Hunk nodded, already slipping into chef mode

“That’s his grandmother. Sure, dude. Take your time, but you know, not too much time...”

Hunk was taking a leap of faith, taking Lance’s “trust” of Shiro to mean he could take those tentative steps too. Hunk’s naturally loveable and huge hearted self didn’t need much of an excuse to love somebody. He prayed that whatever happened, Shiro would spare Hunk the pain of a broken friendship.

The door to Lance’s office had been left ajar. Making the most of it, Blue was curled up on his office chair, Lance softening immediately at the sight of his princess

“Blue... hey, baby girl”

Blue let out a “rowrr”, rolling over and stretching herself out in the chair, her head turning his way as it bobbed a little, like she couldn’t quite focus. With her precious little toes reaching towards him, Lance smiled down at his girl, not wanting to lift her off the chair where she was so comfortable. Walking over, he knelt down, scratching between Blue’s ears as she nudged up into the pats

“So this is where you’ve been? Daddy’s sorry. I left you all alone, my baby”

Laying his cheek on Blue, her fur tickled his nose, still too hypersensitive, but finding peace in Blue’s strong heartbeat. What was happening to him? All of this was strange, all of these heightened senses were scary. Disgruntled over being reduced to his pillow, Blue moved from beneath him, sticking her butt in his face in a half kind of squat as she licked her back, an accusing glare cast in his direction

“You’re the one who moved. I didn’t want to disturb you”

He swore Blue understood every word, his girl quick to jump off the chair and strut away out the door.

Sighing as he was left alone, Lance hadn’t actually wanted to call his Mami. He didn’t want her knowing he was sick or stressed, but his list of go to people were short. With his body changing, he figured he should reach out to Coran for answers, but was scared off at the idea that Shiro or Keith might have bugged his office. Vatican sanctioned hunters were no joke. God’s love was found in the light, while his species were seen as unworthy night freaks that should be decapitated at the first opportune moment. It wasn’t like him to be so depressed, he needed to get his shit together and keep strong, so why was he letting himself spiral like this? He’d met hunters before, forced to flee long ago and barely in his late 20’s. He thought he’d done such a good job of blending in, of being likeable to everyone. Now he was just too damn scared to think of his next move. A truce between him and Shiro could surely not last longer than tonight. Shiro only agreed not to kill him due to his human friends. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to drink Keith’s blood in the first place, so why did he have to be punished when he’d pretty much saved Keith from himself.

“Freeze, bloodsucker”

What happened to Keith being in bed? So weak he needed his big brother to fend for him? Turning his head, he rested his other cheek on the chair as he looked to Keith. Keith looked sleepy, yet unamazingly alive. A proper nap would fix up much of his appearance, as would a series of face masks to help with the whole “black bag panda” look he was rocking. Pointing a gun in his direction, Lance couldn’t even be surprised by it

“Just so you know, Shiro and I have a truce at the moment because there’s a human in the house”

“You think I care? You fucking turned me”

Lance moved his head again, flipping back to the other cheek and staring at his desk

“You’re not a vampire”

“I am too! You bit me”

“You punched me in the teeth”

“You still turned me!”

“Keith, fuck off. You’re not a vampire”

“I am! I received a vampire’s bite”

“Nope”

“I’m turning. I can feel it. My body feels different”

“That’s because you’re a dumbarse. Relax, you’re still human”

“I’m not! You ruined my life, the least you can do is die!”

Before Keith could react, Lance was standing in front of him. Grabbing the muzzle of the gun, he held it up to his chest in line with his undead heart

“You’re not a vampire. Fucking shoot me if you want to, but I never fucking turned you”

It was interesting to hear Keith’s heart begin to race with fear. His eyes were something else, Lance staring him dead in the eyes, feeling like those eyes could steal his very soul

“You turned me”

“I didn’t turn you. Now, either you shoot me right here, or you go back to bed like a good little boy. Shiro’s worried enough about you as it is”

“You have no right...”

“I have no right mentioning his name? Is that it? Sorry to break it to you, but until tomorrow morning, and my friends have all gone home safely, your stupid arse is stuck here. Now, I’m going to have a bite to drink while you go back to bed. Neither of us are going to tell Shiro you pulled a gun on me while a human was in the house, and you’re going to get through you think mullet covered head, you are not a vampire”

Letting the gun go, Lance turned and walked back to his desk, making a show of calmly pulling down a wine glass and opening his safe. His blood supply had been fucking halved, probably by Keith, and Lance kind of hoped that the idiot would have taken a sip by now and see he was still the stupid human he’d always been. Feeling Keith’s eyes remain on him, Lance sighed

“Can’t a man get a moment of privacy in his own home?”

“How can I trust you? How do I know you aren’t planning on pulling out your own gun”

“Because you fucking tossed my office already. If there a gun in here, your dumbarse would have found it. Now, shoo”

Keith did not “shoo”, either the whole encounter had taken so long Shiro got worried, or Hunk had mentioned Lance was headed to his office, whatever it was, Shiro didn’t take long to interrupt the one sided staring match

“Keith! What are you doing out of bed?”

With Shiro finally there to break the tension, Lance poured himself out a third of the blood bag

“I’m not human any more, Shiro...”

“Keith. I get that this change is hard for you, but we’re going to get through this together. Lance has people over tonight, we can’t make a move until they’ve left”

“He’s a vampire and he fucking turned me!”

All Keith needed to was start stomping his feet and he’d have impersonating a cranky toddler down pact

“Keith, please. Whatever he’s done to you, I won’t rest until we have a cure. Right now, Lance is only source of information. I know it hard, but you need your rest”

Lance’s opinion of Shiro’s intelligence dropped. He’d told Shiro that Keith wasn’t a vampire. Yet there Shiro was, assuring Keith they’d find a cure. The only cure was death. The whole “kill the sire” thing didn’t work, the two who’d sired Lance had to have been killed off by now... unless they were born into the vampire way of life. Lance actually hadn’t the first clue about how a vampire was “born” and not from being bitten and turned. Perhaps blood in the infants milk? That was the only reasoning he could some up with. Maybe if he hadn’t clung to his human roots, he would have ventured out to learn more about the beast he was.

“Fine. Tonight, and only tonight, I’ll let you off, but come tomorrow, you better tell me everything I need to know before I kill you”

Whooo hoo. One last dinner, at least it’d be with his friends. Keith’s carrying ons were enough to make his headache increase tenfold, bitter as he muttered

“Go away already”

[bubmyg]

an out of bounds umbrella - myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre/warnings: college!au, basketball player!au, (light) enemies to lovers, the real enemy is taehyung, fluff; yoongi’s birthday fic!

word count: 10,296

summary: you’re apologetic about almost blinding your university’s star point guard with the broken tip of your umbrella until you share a class with him and find out he’s a three star recruit but a four star dick or min yoongi doesn’t find your high school musical puns amusing.  

a/n: merry birthday to the light of my life :-(

You pressed buttered pieces of popcorn into gently chewing cheeks, squinted eyes trained on the television screen. Blurs of red and white streaked across brown panel flooring, squeaking shoes and dull roars from the crowd picking up on the mics as the two announcers rambled on about something you weren’t conscious of.

The color of the sweatshirt draped across your torso matched the jerseys of the opposing team, just as the embroidered logos stitched on the corners mirrored that of the website pulled up on your idle laptop on your desk. Going to a university with a nationally ranked basketball team gave some sense of pride, even if you hadn’t adamantly followed the team’s progress otherwise. So said the email pulled up on your laptop, one from a class you hadn’t yet, one from a professor you hadn’t met yet, insisting that you could have the first day of class off if and only if your university won the game currently transpiring before your eyes.

You weren’t watching for that reason, but to not have to wake up for the first day of a new semester gave a new sense to the grit on your teeth as the gap in the score dwindled in the favor of you having to set an alarm on a Monday.

It was a ten point game with ten minutes left in the game, something you noted when you were out of popcorn on your plate and had to dive for the bag on your desk in the short media timeout. It was a seven point game by the time you’d settled back into the stiff cushions of your couch, announcers adamant about the player profile stretched across the screen while play still happened in the background.

You recognized the plush lips stretched into a smile on the head shot simply because your roommate freshman year had made out with Park Jimin for five minutes at a frat party and hadn’t let you forget it. His dark hair was swept across smiling eyes, teeth wide and smile crooked as his stats proved the analysis that his three point percentage helped the team prevail from behind more often than not.

The graphic faded as Jimin regained possession off a steal on defense, burnt orange streaking through the middle of the court as the ball was passed and landed in the hands of the first one back in transition. He laid the ball in for an easy layup.

Five point game.

“Park certainly is an asset to the glue that holds this team together, however—” The announcer spoke as another graphic, smaller this time, adjusted to the corner, “—we have to talk about the one who got him the ball on that last three. Or who beat everyone back on defense after that steal.”

“Or who may certainly be in serious talks for player of the year.”

Going to a university with a ranked basketball generally meant that you were aware of the team’s top ranked recruit, top scorer, the one who drew handfuls of pro-scouts into the stands every home game. He was elusive on campus, presence at parties a myth without any proof, attendance in class mandatory but quiet, walks to class huddled between various members of his teammates.

Maybe you found the aura he gave off attractive, that he wasn’t incredible or loved by people his own age who he didn’t even know.

Or maybe it was just because Min Yoongi was really fucking pretty.

When you were done gaping at the pretty shape of his eyes or the lazy upturn to one corner of his mouth that didn’t quite show his teeth but dimpled his cheeks nonetheless, there was a live shot of his expression as he jogged to the huddle for a timeout. Bleached hair stuck in individual pleats to his forehead, gums on display as he pumped his fist and got intercepted by the round of individuals around the bench, dragging him into the open seat with high fives and claps on the back.

Yoongi had hit a pull up three. Two point game. Five minutes to go.

Your popcorn was cold and forgotten by the time the final buzzer sounded, the ten point swing now in the favor of you not having your first class in the morning, another win and the umpteenth in a row for your university's team, another thirty point game to bring Yoongi’s average scoring up to a national high. He was quiet now in the handshake line, lips tight, eyes down turned as the camera followed the team along while the announcers bid their goodbyes.

A notification emitted from your laptop, another email with the tagline thanks number fourteen and the contents assuring you that you wouldn’t be having class until Wednesday.

You switched off your television as those in the next sporting program on the channel began to chatter about the infamous number fourteen. Unpopped kernels ricocheted through your trash can as you binned your cold snack, sighing at the half opened email on your screen.

You sighed, “Thanks, Min Yoongi.”

The second day of the semester was dulled by a mid winter day warm enough to elicit a torrential downpour of cold rain. And if there was something that never changed with the whether or the term, it was the wind tunnel created through the middle of various academic buildings, whipping ice into your cheeks and blowing the sleeves of your jacket out from the sanction of your gloves. You’d left early, mostly to assure you found the classroom, not be late on the first day of a class.

But mostly to not be picked up Mary Poppins style by the cheap umbrella clutched blindly in aching knuckles.

You could hear the thin metal pieces groaning each time you changed direction, barely glancing into crosswalks for cars or buses or that singular brave soul who would try their bike. The place where they connected in the middle was pressed against the layers of hoods and hats on the top of your head, as close to the ground as you could manage while still protecting your laptop keys from freezing to a standstill. You swayed with each gush of the wind and your boots anchored you in place the best they could while still moving forward as you observed two dark blobs moving in the opposite direction from you in the distance.

Preparation began fully when you could hear them noisily chatting over the wind. You rooted the umbrella in place with two hands, slower steps stalling as close as you could get to the edge of the sidewalk without dipping into the slush mess of snow and mud, raising your head just enough to assess your distance from the two approaching individuals.

One scrambled out of the way as he seemed to register you in the same moment, but the timing was not in favor of the next lift of your foot off the ground as you were stumbling a half step in their direction.

You hadn’t looked enough to notice the two individuals were without, protection limited to black hoodies cinched underneath their chins, but you expected your umbrella to clash into one of theirs. Instead, you narrowly avoided driving the rounded edge of cheap metal into the nearest boy’s eye socket as he locked up at the last second to let out a grunt of annoyance.

Blonde hair draped out over dark eyes with the startled jerk of his head and suddenly you were seven more layers of horrified as you leaned as far as you could in the opposite direction.

“Oh, Yoongi, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

His voice was gruff as he quipped curtly, “Control your umbrella, maybe?”

You stood rooted in a shallow puddle of mud, creaking umbrella clutched in loosened palms as his gaze turned from yours, hands shoving deeper into his pockets as a kicking step carried him away from you. The proceeding gust of wind was the only thing to derive your attention, grip quickly clamping back down on the object in hand as you swallowed thickly in watching their backs saunter away.

The other one’s hood had fallen off now and you wished the puddle below you would gape into a black hole and swallow you whole when Park Jimin smacked his friend’s chest before beaming at you over his shoulder.

“I like your umbrella, babe!”

Your tongue was dry from the ajar hang of your mouth in driving winds, muffling your responding thanks! as much as the leftover horror still clinging to your numb veins did.

The umbrella was crumpled and shoved into the bag of your backpack when you settled into your second class of the day, phone pressed against your ear as your irritated glare seemed to keep your back corner of the lecture hall clear.

“Imagine that news headline,” Jeongguk was chattering through the speaker, “Local dumbass on college campus blinds star point guard with a shitty umbrella. Team never wins a game again. Student body rallies to burn down apartment building of the attacker.”

“Can I stay with you when they do?” Your cold glare met the far wall as you dipped a hand into your sopping wet backpack, drawing out a notebook and a pen and you wished the wall were Jeongguk’s stupid smiling face so you could jab your pen between the gap in his bunny teeth.

“Absolutely.”

“I hate you.”

“Noted for whether I put you on the couch or make Taehyung share his bed with you,” You heard him cackle and it lessened the automatic grimace that graced your features. “Seriously though. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s not, I’m just an idiot.”

Jeongguk hesitated and you wanted to punch him through the line, “Maybe. Is this your last class today? I have to remember your new schedule so I can know when to be a pain in the ass but like, respectfully.”

“Yes, Guk.”

“Do you want me to bring you soup later?”

Your grateful answer stalled on your tongue and you nearly swallowed the muscle when a stupidly familiar blob of drenched black fabric plopped down in the seat three down from you. You turned with a cocked eyebrow, the tiniest voice in your head that wasn’t Jeongguk’s rambling for you to answer him telling you that the odds were ridiculous and this was a class for your major and why would Min Yoongi be in a literature class?

Min Yoongi was definitely in the literature class and he was definitely sitting three seats down from you and he was definitely staring at you with one eyebrow cocked and an annoyed round to the black of his eyes.

“Does your silence mean yes but you want me to bring the soup but with, like, crackers or something?”

“Yes, Guk, soup sounds good. I’ll, uh, see you later, profjustwalkedinbye!”

You heard him snort and with another fleeting glance you found that he was no longer staring at you but instead picking at loose skin around his fingernails. You took the discovery with a sigh of relief and the freedom to do the same to your own battered nails.

He was two seats closer when the professor had halfheartedly split the room in discussion groups with a waving flick of her wrist in general corners. The individuals who were presumably meant to speak with the two of you had joined the group a layer below in the lecture hall, leaving the awkward silence that went with you fingering at the pages on your notebook while Yoongi pretended to read the passage projected on the board.

“Did you...do this reading?”

You startled at the rasp of Yoongi’s voice addressing you and when you looked up your irritation grew tenfold because now you didn’t want to admit that he was super fucking pretty. Delicate eyelashes blinked at you, not amused by the frantic fish of your mouth as you snapped harsher than you meant to.

“Of course I did,” You swallowed, shoulders sinking, “Did you?”

There was something infuriating about his next, almost rhetorical inquiry, purely because the lack of anything cocky encompassing his entire being. There wasn’t a smug smirk plastered to his lips, no knowing smile, no wink to precede the words. Just a lazy cock of his chin as he squished his cheek into curled knuckles complete with pursed pink lips.

“Do you know who I am?”

If the easy lack of care that encompassed his entire being intrigued you before it made you grind your teeth into jagged edges now, especially with the connotation of his question no matter how simply he asked it.

So you contrasted his expression, a sweet smile meeting your teeth as you still cold cheeks screamed from the movement, “No? Should I?”

Something sparkled in the corner of Yoongi’s right eye when it crinkled ever so slightly, lips twitched as he straightened, dragging the hand on his cheek down to rest around the back of his neck as his eyes diverted to the board.

“Well, I’m Yoongi. And no, I didn’t do the reading. Little busy this last weekend.”

“Well, it was essentially about how—”

He held up his hand, “Why don’t you just answer her questions when she calls on our group, then?”

Yoongi didn’t wait for your answer as he was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “Yeah,” You muttered dryly, “I can do that.”

“Perfect,” The back of his head hit the plastic of the chair and he craned his neck to squint at you, bleached locks tumbling away from dark eyebrows to expose the wrinkles rippling across his forehead, “What was your name again?”

You murmured it and he hummed, eyes falling shut as his fingers ran across his face.

“Wake me up when she starts discussion.”

You rounded a tour group exiting the basement of the student union without considering the eye roll the guide shot at the back of your head, swinging onto the staircase to the second floor and taking the arching marble two at a time. Your wet backpack felt three times heavier on your shoulders as your wet boots squeaked around the corner of the second story, retching open the tiny blue door hidden at the apex of the last stair of the main hallway.

The stairs were narrower leading up the chute to the virtually nonexistent third story of the union, wooden and cracked and creaking with each step but you took them two at a time as well, not stopping to stroke your fingers over the random pieces of artwork hung to the walls as you normally would. The room was dark when you reached the hilt, not that you expected otherwise, and you stumbled into the space with a stupidly exaggerated sigh of relief.

For once, the ache in your joints from the cold and the wet welcomed the strange heat that constantly infiltrated the spacious room at the top of the union, the south ballroom as it was advertised to clubs looking to rent space on the university website. It was spacious, the wooden floors scuffed and dotted in various streaks of grey and white paint, a lifted platform at the front of the room with stacks of grey chairs pressed against the wall, windows facing the street lining the walls but the cobwebs so bad it wasn’t worth it to try to see out of the frosted glass, a singular piano at the head of room that you were sure hadn’t been played in years.  

You stumbled on your favorite study spot on accident years ago and were thankful for the refuge that only a handful of students knew the whereabouts to every day, even when it was only the second day of the semester and you didn’t have highlighted notes to spread out the length of the room while pacing in front of the corresponding flashcards.

You discarded all your wet articles of clothing in a pile in the corner, your backpack, socks, shoes, jacket, top layer of shirt, leaving you in slightly damp jeans and a t-shirt as you hobbled across the uneven floor to the raised platform. Your ass hit the surface first, then your shoulders, sprawling openly across the floor as you welcomed the sound of muted traffic as the only thing your ringing ears could hear.

Until your phone went off in your bag, muffled by the layers of clothing piled on top of it and the thin sheen of ice still clinging to the pores.

“Are you upstairs?” Jeongguk whined pitifully, “I’ve burnt my hand twice of your fucking soup and want it gone.”

You sighed.

“Yeah.”

“Stop being all sulky, it’s day two—” There was some rustling and then he was grunting, “—why are you pretending that we didn’t know all student athletes are assholes.”

“You’re a student athlete.”

He was whining again, “Yes, but the swim team is different.”

“Beg to differ, Tae’s an ass.”

“He’s an ass to you because he thinks you’re hot and I said no.”

“He’s an ass even if you would have said yes.” 

“He’s a lovable ass.”

You parted your mouth to contradict when the rickety old doorknob was jiggling in it’s much too big hole, stalling your heart in your throat. You were stood, barefoot and drenched in the corner of the room with your clothes spread everywhere. Not a good look for an unsuspecting freshman who’d accidentally stumbled upon the room in search of the office who handled lost or stolen student ID’s.

“Hey, are you here?”

“No, I’m like two blocks away,” Jeongguk paused for the wind, “Why are we whispering?”

The door jiggled again, cracked barely a sliver, and then shut all the same. The echo of retreating footsteps echoed your breathing as you sighed, shaking your head even though Jeongguk couldn’t see you and he was prodding again with an expectant noise in his throat.

“No reason, thought somebody was coming up the stairs,” You slumped into a nearby chair, “Hurry up.”

“So we aren’t whispering?—”

It was two weeks later and the sun was out enough for you not to have to zip your winter jacket to your chin when Yoongi’s quiet confession and page full of notes almost made you think he wasn’t an asshole.

“I, uhm,” His chair rolled closer despite the apprehensive narrow of your eyes at the side of his head, “did the reading.”

“Good. That is, generally, the only thing you’re required to do in a literature class.”

He blinked, “It was...good.”

You blinked back, “You found Freud good?”

“Truthfully? No. Not at all. I hated every bit of it,” Yoongi’s notebook hit the desk with a dull thud, the metal spiral unraveled at the end and catching in the strings of his hoodie, “but I did read it. Aren’t you happy?”

“Why should I be happy that you actually did the assignment?”

“Because I can talk in class today—”

“—just because you can doesn’t mean you will—”

“—and because I was busy last night.” Yoongi flattened his palm over his notes, “Did you watch the game last night?”

“Just because you’ve suddenly developed this brooding hatred for Min Yoongi doesn’t mean you aren’t required to go to the games with me anymore,” Jeongguk’s weighed slumped against the door audibly and you groaned in response.

“I’m the only one of us that has tickets—” You tucked your pillow tighter to your face, “—you’re required to go with me.”

“Get up or we’re not going to get our seats.”

He let out a noise of surprise when you tossed your pillow at your door. “Are you wearing that stupid quarter-zip that’s a size too small for you?”

“Open the door and find out.”

“That’s a yes.”

“Open. The door.”

You rolled out of your duvet, flicking the lock on your door. Jeongguk nearly crashed the pointed edge against your nose as he shuffled through the threshold of the doorway. A quirked eyebrow rose higher into fluffy bangs as his gaze drug upward from your socked feet to your glaring eyes.

“Thought you only wore those socks to games,” He gestured vaguely, “and that ring. Move your hoodie, do you have your lucky sports bra on—”

“Jeongguk.”

He was knuckle deep in the shoulder of the heavy fabric, fingers plucking at the thick strap for good measure as he feigned, “What?”

“Get your hand out of my shirt and let’s go.”

The tall man groaned as he trailed you down the stairs of your building, longer legs taking them two at a time with incessant fingers prodding at your shoulder blades, “Eager to see your boyfriend in his element?”

You didn’t hold the door for Jeongguk as you took a running step forward out onto the sidewalk, “That shirt doesn’t make you look like you hit your bench max this week just because it’s tight.”

He caught up to you, shoving his fingers in the back pocket of your jeans, “And Yoongi won’t be able to see your ass in these from the court.”

“I didn’t wear them because of that—”

“He’s looking at you.”

“Jeongguk there’s two thousand people in this general direction. He’s not looking at me.”

“He’s definitely looking at you,” Jeongguk snorted when you lifted his arm to hide behind it, “He just smiled. I’ve never seen Min Yoongi smile during a basketball game.”

“They’re up by thirty. He thinks I don’t know who he is.”

“...and he’s still looking at you. Especially now that you’re attempting to hide. Secrets up I think.”

“Is it too late to move to the top section?”

“We’re not moving. This is our spot.”

“Bring Taehyung next time and I’ll move up to the top. Perfect plan.”

“Not to interrupt your existential crisis but Park Jimin is definitely waving at you.”

You whipped your head around at that, nearly bashing your nose off of Jeongguk’s flexed bicep as you immediately found the fluffy haired guard cackling in your general direction. If you weren’t paranoid, you wouldn’t have noticed him nudge the bleached haired one you were refusing to acknowledge and mouth that one?

They both waved this time and your muscle twitched to return the favor for whatever impulsive reason until bile burned up the back of your throat at the sight of nearly everyone around you waving as well. The pair seemed satisfied with themselves, having found whoever their target was as they exchanged a few nudged elbows to their stomachs.

You resisted the urge to flash your middle finger at Yoongi even though he was most certainly not looking at you when he cast another fleeting glance over his shoulder.

The back of your neck burned but you deadpanned, “What game?”

Each corner of Yoongi’s lips made the shape of a capital I and he nodded, throat visibly jumping as he dragged his notebook closer to his nose. “So Freud and why he’s not, in fact, good—”

You acquired Min Yoongi’s number a month and a half into the semester when group projects were a flippant announcement at the end of class and he’d shoved the device into your palms without asking what he wanted.

“I have to keep my grades up for my, uhm…” He trailed off and his hand was on the back of his neck again while you regarded him with thumbs stalled on the keyboard of the glass screen, “...my scholarship. So, I’d like to do well on this. You know?”

You began to type them, nodding, “I also would like to do well.”

“Good,” Yoongi accepted the phone back, tapping around on the screen as your own buzzed in your back pocket, “Then we’re on the same team.”

You waited until three days later in the middle of an away game that was illuminated on your television, finishing half your bowl of popcorn and texting him a question on his limited work on the shared powerpoint. It sent as he drained a three pointer and you couldn’t help but groan.  

They won and he responded almost an hour after you’d crawled into bed, a smiling emoji punctuating the roll of your eyes as you shoved your phone under your pillow, completely unsuspecting of the four extra slides he finished on the plane ride back to campus.

“Why are you calling me?” You squinted out the glass of one of the windows in your study room, cobwebs swept aside from the room’s yearly cleaning and enough for you to see blurred blobs crossing the sidewalks below.

“Because I don’t know how to explain this to you over text,” Yoongi mumbled on the other end, “There’s only so many emojis I can use to describe Shakespeare and my lack knowledge with anything technical.”

“There is a keyboard besides the emoji keyboard.”

“Exactly a thing helpless me would not know. Can you not be insufferable for two seconds?”

“Only if you never call me again.”

“Sounds like a fair trade,” Yoongi quipped dryly. “Get on the powerpoint, I think I accidentally deleted all our sources.”

“You did what—”

He sent you a picture of sprinkle covered donut after hanging up and brought it to you in a crumpled napkin the next morning.

You were tripping up the narrow stairway to the room the next time that you called him and he answered with the same petty sarcasm, “I thought the deal was no more phone calls.”

“I said for you not to call me,” You huffed, pausing in the middle of a bowed piece of wood, “This is different.”

“Right,” A melodious noise echoed on the other end of the line and Yoongi grunted, “Well then, get on with it. What do you need?”

“I need you to check my work on the analysis portion—” Another noise and you frowned as it seemed to echo with the next timid step you took in ascend, “—see if you agree.”

One more noise. A ding but softer. It got louder when you took three steps higher and you pulled your phone off your ear to squint at it. His voice was softer as he was unaware that you were frowning at the bottom of your phone, “You care if I agree with you or not?”

“Not really, I just need to say you looked it over in case you decide to complain to the prof or something,” You held a steady hand on the doorknob to the room as you delicately cradled your phone to your face, “Do you hear a weird dinging noise? It kind of sounds like a—”

“Piano?—” The noise came again and you jumped when it was louder than it had been any of the previous times, “—yes, I hear it.”

“Then why…” You pushed open the door only for the sound to curl fully into your ears, tinkled and coming all from a few keys pushed close together as feathered by a veiny hand not holding onto a phone.

“...why the fuck are you in here?”

His phone slapping off the keys didn’t provide near the beautiful sound that previously had been coming from the careful touch of seasoned fingers and you winced as it came dully in one ear and directly in the other that still held your phone. You scrambled to hang it up while Yoongi scrambled for his to scoop it off the floor.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize only you could use this room,” Yoongi’s retort was spoken as he was bent like a pretzel underneath the creaking stool he was perched delicately upon, managing to pluck his phone between his thumb and second knuckle on his index finger.

“This is my room,” You tried dumbly, still halfway in the door with the loose knob bobbing in your grasp.

“Do you have it reserved?” He’d straightened now, black eyes challenging you.

“...no.”

“Were you here first?”

You grit your teeth at the childish question.

“No.”

“Good, then it’s our room,” Yoongi pushed himself away from the piano, stalking to his backpack that was slumped in the corner. Your corner. “We can work on this project together instead of exchanging awkward phone calls and texts.”

The door shut but you continued to stare at him as he settled onto the floor, pulling his laptop from a pouch in his backpack.

“So you don’t carry a basketball around like Chad Danforth?”

Yoongi cocked an eyebrow in the exact moment that you panicked of the words that just left your lips. He said it slowly but it sounded like he’d been thrown through a chipmunk generator, “What do you mean?”

“It’s just—” You gestured so wildly with your hands, your backpack slid off one shoulder and you stumbled, “—he claims he doesn’t dance and then can dance. You give off the impression that all you do is sleep but you can play piano. Same concept.”

Or that you play basketball and share the same number with the infamous Troy Bolton.

“When you have to explain the joke, it’s not funny anymore,” Yoongi singsonged and the deep gravel in his tone made you shiver and contemplate the idea of jumping his stupid heart shaped mouth if he could fucking sing too. He hid under his bangs as he added, “The second movie is best one of the franchise, though.”

The implication that he knew enough about the movies to even argue that point didn’t register as you deadpanned, “Respectfully disagree. First one is the best.”

Yoongi sighed and the trace of a smile slipping to your lips was unconscious.

“I’m not arguing with you about High School Musical when you’re supposed to be helping my dumbass understand Macbeth, get over here.”

“What’s the point in this competition if we just end up sharing the space every time anyway?” You heaved into your phone receiver, skipping individual blocks of concrete lining the sidewalks in route to the union. Your backpack flapped on your shoulders where you’d failed to zip it in the rush out of your last class of the day and the notifications on your phone were all from a Jeongguk you were ignoring.

“Principal of the matter,” Yoongi was equally out of breath, “or, if you’d ever beat me, I’m under no impression that you wouldn’t kick me out. You should be grateful I always get there first and let you stay.”

“You don’t always get there first.”

“I’ll let you think that. Anyway, I propped the door open. Follow the smell of the breadsticks I bought us.”

“I don’t want any of your fucking breadsticks.”

“Good.”

Good news, you have the room to yourself today. I have things to do.

Translation: There’s a game today.

Don’t threaten me with a good time, Min Yoongi.

Translation: I miss you.

“Can you stop doing that?”

You popped an earbud out, even if you’d had your music paused for well over fifteen minutes, nothing but an absent doodle on the margins of your notes as you’d listened intently to the gentle sounds of the old piano filling the room as played by Yoongi’s crooked fingers. It was the nodding off of your cheek against the chair you leaned against from your position on the floor that erased the sleep clinging to your digits as you grit your teeth and reprimanded the only other individual in the room.

He turned with a single raised eyebrow, soft caramel eyes widened in surprise. Quickly did they flatten into something of mischief after drawing in the sight of your swollen eyes and slightly frumpled hair.

“What?” Yoongi teased, poking a succession of keys with a lopsided grin, “Playing you a nice lullaby?”

“Seriously, Yoongi,” Your voice came out harsher than intended and you winced when the playful smile erased from his lips, “I have to get this done.”

There was a pause in between his shrug and his low, “You can always go home.”

He was silent as you shoved papers into the smallest pouch on your backpack, uncaring that you’d just folded half your notes in route to jam your notebook in with your laptop. You barely got your jacket over your shoulders, backpack dangling from the crook of your elbow as irritated steps worked to carry you toward the door.

Your bag tumbled to the floor, jacket covering it when gentle fingers pried their way into one of your curled fists, tugging just enough to stall your pointed advances.

“I’m sorry,” There was a sincere shine in the gentle blink of Yoongi’s eyes up at you, one that mirrored the squeeze around your palm, “I’ll stop. Stay.”

“I just have a lot to do.”

Another squeeze. A trace of his thumb over the back of your knuckles. “I know.”

“Sorry.”

You stepped away from him but he didn’t let go of your hand, carefully drawing his gaze over your features until you averted your eyes to the side, trying to pull your hand against your chest. He let go of you, only to softly inquire, “Do you need help studying?”

“Do you know anything about statistics?”

Yoongi quirked an eyebrow, taking a step forward to your step back to your previous position.

“I can learn.”

There were eight, neat little crescent shapes carved into Jeongguk’s forearm by the time the clock clicked over to zero, effectively sucking the life from the thousands of individuals seated around you. Your grip loosened on him only when someone trying to retreat down the staircase to your right bumped against your shoulder, drawing your blank eyes to squint in confirmation at the scoreboard.

Jeongguk didn’t move because you didn’t, your gaze sweeping over the heads of still seated fans to the members of the opposing team to finally assess the frustration written over Yoongi’s features. He ducked out of the handshake line as the last of the opposing team members clasped him on the back, evading the hand of Jimin that reached out from him as he bent over the bench to retrieve a towel. The white was draped across his head, ends pulled underneath his chin with white knuckles as quick steps carried him toward the locker room.

“Hey,” Jeongguk jiggled his arm still loosely clasped in your fingers, trading it to drape across your shoulders as he playfully nudged your hip, “Can’t always win them all.”

You nodded slowly, eyeing the two point difference on the scoreboard with a sour taste in your mouth. “The close ones are the ones that hurt the most.”

“Right, just like when I was three points off a C on that bio test you helped me study for—”

“Guk.”

“Sorry,” He grinned sheepishly. He used his grip on your shoulders to steer you out around the dwindling mass of students, “Next game, right?”

The lid of the piano was closed but Yoongi sat at the bench nonetheless, his notebook propped awkwardly against the curve in the wood with the plastic end of his pen clenched between his front teeth. He’d spoken nearly three words to you, about the same amount that was written across the top of his notebook in giant bold letters, ones he kept filling in over and over again. It was the class name and the date, scribbled in permanence in between shuddered sighs and the push of his fingers through his hair.

You watched him warily, you own progress on work going slowly as two sides of your conscious fighting for the correct approach to the situation. Acknowledge you knew of the loss and try to comfort him that way (hey, are you okay after missing those couple of free throws at the end of the game and turning it over with fifteen seconds left? Just curious.), or simply ask the question you already knew the answer to (Clearly you aren’t, but are you okay?).  

He beat you to either, the smack of his notebook against the floor entirely louder than the tremble in his timbre, “Hey, uh…”

The jerk of your chin toward Yoongi’s voice startled him and he swallowed in between his words, “Uh, do you have a lot to do?”

“Nothing too important,” You lied of the essay you needed to finish outlining. The blank word document on your laptop mocked you from it’s place behind you, “What’s up?”

He nodded toward the instrument he was perched at, “Do you care if I play a little bit? It won’t be too long I just need to—”

“Go for it,” Your smile was tight lipped only to threaten it from breaking into either sympathy or pure endearment, “I’ll try not to fall asleep.”

Yoongi’s fingers had only feathered over a few collection of notes before something harsh was ringing through the room as he settled his palm down over the keys, turning again to you. “I know a way to keep you awake while I play,” He tried bluntly and you cocked an eyebrow at the gentle pink brushing up the back of his neck.

“What’s that? Play me the entire High School Musical soundtrack? I had you as Chad, not Kelsey but now I’m intrigued—”

He ignored you with fully pink cheeks, dragging his stature across the creaking old bench to pat the space next to him, “Come sit with me.”

“I—”

“Only if you want to,” He touched the back of his next with fingers crooked at the very tip, rambling more so to the uneven floorboards than to the amused smile on your face, “Might keep you awake if you’re closer to the source of the sound. Or I can just pinch you when you start to—”

“Hush, you have to give me a second to get up,” You abandoned your post on the floor without a second thought, uncaring that you probably just lost your last good pen to one of said, uneven floorboards.

There was a touch of Yoongi’s gums in your peripheral as you settled rigidly next to him, watching as he laid dainty wrists to the keys while glancing at you, “I take requests only if they’re not High School Musical related.”

You rolled your eyes, folding your hands in between the awkward cross of your thighs, “Just play something.”

You were awarded the forward face of his unabashed beam at that, one that ducked away from you in flushed embarrassment, mumbling in an attempt to close the spread of his lips up into the apples of his cheeks.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The I’ll be late text appeared in your palm as you’d opened your text thread with Yoongi to tease of his competitive spirit dwindling. It hadn’t, he was fresh off a game where he’d scored thirty points and grabbed ten rebounds in a demolishing comeback win that kept him out of class for travel but assured he’d be back the next day for his presence to annoy you while studying.

You opted for a thumbs up in response rather than your normal snarky response, dropping the device into your pocket with a sigh. The novel you were to be reading looking ten times less appealing without the calm of Yoongi’s presence just a glance through strands of your hair away. You rolled the tattered spine over in your fingers, drawing gentle fingers down the glossy cover as unconscious steps carried you away from your usual corner near the risen platform toward the piano bench. The curl of your toes into one of the legs was more violent than your ears were prepared for and your backside hit the unforgiving wood, hard, from the start of your heart in your ears.

A page in and the aura the piano suggested was doing you no good, especially not when you checked your phone and lacked an update of how late late would be. You dogeared the page to reread when you weren’t unconsciously on edge, sliding the book across the floor until it came to a sad rest a few feet before your bag.

Your fingers instead found themselves pulling up on the tattered wood of the piano, revealing the dull ivory that you were clueless to other than the comfort that the sounds, or the potential of someone playing the sounds (or, quite frankly, the comfort that someone you knew who could play), brought. One poke to a key and you winced, the sound dull to the jabbing thump of your rigid finger. Another, softer, and you relaxed as you began to poke around at the keys closest to you as if you were hunting for letters on a keyboard in pitch darkness.

“Why is it me playing for you?” You startled a crescendo of keys with the flat of your palm but the smirking figure shuffling through the door showed no other emotion than joy, “You should clearly be playing for me.”

You recovered after a handful of stuttered syllables that resembled nothing of what you wanted to say, “Well I figured if you could play, it couldn’t be that hard but I was, uh, wrong.”

“Want me to teach you?”

Yoongi towered over you, white fringe stuck in blinking eyelashes, smashed down by the black hood cinched around puffed cheeks, but nothing was teasing about the purse of his lips as they paused in wait for your response, one hand supporting the lean of his stature against the side of the piano.

“I, uh, actually probably need to get to my reading,” You tripped in slow motion off the bench, “maybe some other time—”

You barely registered the pressure of his fingers around your wrist as he tugged you back, taking your place on the edge of the seat while dragging your hip to knock against his in the same movement. He apologized only with a quirk of his lips into a soft smile, fingers trailing over the underside of your wrists to situate your hands against the piano keys.

“Just a quick lesson,” Yoongi’s voice brushed your ear as he leaned across you to press one of your fingers down against the key it held.

You were deaf to any of his instructions, feeling only the heat of calloused fingertips guiding your movements while listening only to the rasp in his murmur rather than the teaching his words held.

“We don’t play like you type,” He told you after a moment, and it was when he’d risen to move behind you that you thought you were going to, literally, pass out into his chest. He paid no mind to your panic, nudging your hands aside to place his where yours had once been, “I can’t concentrate sometimes with you hacking away over there.”

“Shut up,” The words felt dry on your tongue and you were lucky anything came out at all.

You could hear the smile in Yoongi’s voice as his chin leaned over your shoulder, “Put your hands on top of mine.”

Min Yoongi’s hands were massive, swallowing the small surface area they rested against, pale and freckled with prominent veins crossing through red knuckles, a few rings wrapped around bony digits, nails cut neat but fingers around them worn raw from picking and chewing, ones that you would beg to have cradled around your own or hollowed between your cheeks.

Either one would suffice.

You hesitated at the clamminess you felt pulling off the material of your pants but he hummed in encouragement from behind you, wiggling his fingers. You were delicate in the way you rested your hands over his, as if the feather light touch could mask the sheen of sweat and their constant shake.

“Like this,” Yoongi was explaining, fluidly, drawing seasoned fingers across the keys, indirectly helping you to play something so complex you could only dream of ever learning. You were entirely more attuned to the flex of his appendages underneath your own than the sound they made at the tips, flooding his voice as though your ears were underwater and he were at the surface.

He slipped his hands away from yours, still leaning over you as he affirmed in a breath, “Better?”

You craned your neck to look at him, lips parted to respond but you nearly swallowed your tongue at his proximity. Long eyelashes brushed against his cheeks, minuscule twitch of his chin following the stare of your eyes into deep brown irises. Petaled lips rolled when his tongue traced from the inside of his cheek to run the length of his bottom lip, soft fringe brushing against your forehead as he leaned a fraction of a space closer.

“Yeah,” You managed to offer at a whisper, molars catching the inside of your cheek as your eyes darted to the plush of his parted lips, “I think I’ve got it now.”

Yoongi’s lips were soft like the cup of his hands around your face, testing the waters of your mouth as his scrunched nose bumped against your cheek. He met the sharp breath you sucked in when you didn’t pull away, settling into the repeated brush of his mouth against yours, kisses tender and sweet like the swipe of his thumbs against your cheekbones.

You held onto his wrists when he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours to regard you with darkened pupils.

His voice wavered between a thick whisper and an airy inquiry, “Did you ever get a less shitty umbrella?”

Seven shades of horror encompassed you again like they had that day but he held you in place when you tried to jerk away, pressing another chaste kiss to the startled part of your mouth.

“You, what—”

“First of all, you’re a terrible liar,” His lips pressed to your cheek, “secondly, I see you at games. You stick out when with that tall prick from the swim team—”

“His roommate on the swim team is a prick, not him—”

Yoongi muffled your groan of protest with a reprimanding kiss, leaving one on the tip of your nose for good measure, “You called me by my name when you ran into me.”

“I had on three different hoods and was sopping fucking wet.”

“Would it be cheesy of me to say I’d never forget a face as beautiful as yours?”

Your cheeks heated underneath Yoongi’s grasp even as you glared, “Yeah, it would.”

He hummed, one hand leaving your face to pass bent knuckles underneath your eye, “You are, though. Beautiful.”

You went to protest and Yoongi pinched your cheek this time in reprimand, “—and you treat me like a normal college student who likes the shitty breadsticks at the dining hall and doesn’t understand Shakespeare without the Internet.”

“No one calls me out on my bullshit except coach. Sometimes. You do though, and you’re unapologetic about doing it. But you also don’t treat me like some dumbass athlete, even though you knew. You don’t treat me like a dumbass in general.”

“Because you aren’t.”

He thumbed at the seam of your lips, gaze wandering from the place where he plucked at the wet of your bottom lip to somewhere behind you. “I really like you…” His throat bobbed, “...even if you think I’m a little bit of an ass.” 

“You can be,” You reciprocated again and you pressed your thumbs into the pulse on the underside of his wrists, “but I like it. I like you.”

 Yoongi’s nose wrinkled and something like doubt flashed in his gaze as it dropped to your lap this time, grip on your cheeks loosening, “Yeah?”

You kissed him this time, trying desperately to assure him that, yeah, even if the tiniest part of you resented the rest of you for it. His grip tightened again on your cheeks, holding you in place for two, three, five prolonged presses of your mouth before he was breathing nearly out of context, “Are you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“Yes, Jeongguk and I have—”

“Will you stay after?” The words jumbled together but you didn’t have a chance to assure him with another nip to his bottom lip as he added, “We can go get pizza or something. I don’t know if my roommate will be home but my room is pretty comfy…”

You quirked an eyebrow and Yoongi’s entire features were shaded the prettiest hue of pink, the only exceptions the freckles dotted around his cheeks and nose, “We really can just hang out, unless you want to come up here and sit on the cold floor—”

“Yoongi.”

He stopped rambling and peered at you under lidded eyes.

You kissed his cheek, lips lingering as you agreed, “That sounds perfect.”

“He’s looking at you again.”

Jeongguk spoke without looking at you, nudging you first. When there wasn’t an immediate, snarky reply, he was tucking his chin to his shoulder, eyes still stuck to the happenings on the screen.

“I know.”

“Hey, did you hear me, he’s—” Jeongguk’s sharp gaze sliced into your cheek then to your hand that was lifted and twisting back and forth at the wrist, “—wait, you what?”

There was a fond smile pasted to your lips, one so tight it hurt your cheeks like the ache in your wrist from how enthusiastically you waved to the court. You’d clearly caught Yoongi’s attention, a lopsided smirk indenting into his cheeks as he shook his head, fringe falling over his eyes as his chin dropped to the stitching across his chest. An itching heat burned up the back of your spine, one that you couldn’t and didn’t want to squirm away from until a hand wrapped around your elbow and tugged.

You jerked your attention away at the third, painful, tug on your arm. Jeongguk was looking at you like you’d sprouted a new appendage from the apex of your throat, pupils twisting down the length of your features and back up as though he’d find that third hand growing on your forehead instead.

“What do you mean you know?”

“He was looking over here because I waved at him,” You blanched, twisting your chin in faux questioning, “He’s my friend?”

“Oh.” Jeongguk blinked, “So you’re finally accepting it.”

“What?”

“Nothing. He’s waving back,” He used his grip on your arm to angle your shoulders back toward the court and sure enough, Min Yoongi was flushed the same bright shade of pink that wasn’t from the thirty minutes of game play he’d endured. His hand rose gradually, flicking once just above his shoulder as he cocked an eyebrow at you.

Your mouth went dry and you were thankful for Jeongguk’s grip on you when Yoongi winked, bottom lip escaping from his teeth as he turned and jogged in the direction of his teammates.

An elbow on your opposite jabbed against your side and a voice an octave deeper than your giggling best friend mused, “Friend, huh?”

“Yes,” Jeongguk’s grip dropped to your wrist, as if to keep you from swinging at Taehyung as you turned toward him. “He asked me to come.”

Taehyung snorted, arms folded tightly to his chest, one thick eyebrow raising, “Yeah? You would have came anyway, he knows that right?”

“Will you switch me seats?” You beamed sweetly at the boy on your left, jerking your wrist from his grasp in the same movement.

“Absolutely not,” Jeongguk answered with an equally shitty grin, leaning closer to you, “You’re the one that asked Tae to come.”

“You’re stuck with me for another seventy seconds, sweetheart,” said swimmer sang, nudging your side again.

A minute ten. Just say a minute ten.

“Do you want to head out early?” Jeongguk nodded toward the scoreboard, another blowout score with some ridiculous stats by the part of a player who wore the number fourteen, “Try to beat the traffic?”

“Why don’t you two go ahead and go find the car and then—” You stroked a ticklish finger under Jeongguk’s chin and he retracted in on himself, “—you can come pick me up.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you owe me for making me stand next to Taehyung all game.”

“He’s not that bad.”

Another nudge to your far side, “Still here. And I know you love me.”

Jeongguk blinked at the unwavering annoyance in your glaring eyes, nodding once, twice, before frantic jerks of his chin followed the clamber of his lanky stature from the bleacher seats. “C’mon, Tae, let’s go.”

The sounds of music had filled the arena by the time their backs disappeared down the staircase, the melody of victory as the times weaved through formality handshakes. You clapped along with the remaining crowd that weren’t trying to escape after Taehyung and Jeongguk, numb feet rooted to concrete, tongue dry as it stuck to the roof of your mouth. The tingling prick in your hands fumbled your phone from your back pocket and your conscience blanked on the contents of the email notification and the celebration emojis Taehyung had texted you.

You only moved when the last of the students were five stairs down from you, taking each individual step at a pause of thirty seconds or more. You fumbled your phone again, ignoring Jeongguk’s found the car, Tae is driving so we’ll be there….at some point to switch to Yoongi’s text thread.

You nearly face planted the last three stairs in the rush to exit out of his messages when the rise of typing bubbles appeared.

Give me ten minutes. I’ll meet you out in the hallway.

You recovered your steps in favor of rolling your eyes at the basketball emoticon Yoongi sent next, followed by a thumbs up.

Hallway was a broad statement and your nerves were timing the ten minutes to the millisecond, shoes scuffing your way about cleaners and those left scraping up forgotten nacho cheese in the concession stands and alumni donors with grey hair and sweater vests milling in front of exit signs while brake lights and the glow from campus fuzzed through glazed glass behind their statures.

It was five minutes into your adventure when you found tile becoming hardwood and you were on the outer edge of the floor, various assistants and managers and fans still milling about as the sound echoing off the polished wood became barely a fraction of what it had been amist another win. There was a wide opening just underneath the goal closest to you, the hallway to the locker room, one that a uniformed officer faithfully guarded with a shoulder against the concrete and his nose scrunched at his phone.

Your joints were two conscious steps into scurrying back off the floor when the loud sound of shoes slapping against the floor directly preceded the call of your name and the jerk of the officer’s attention.

Park Jimin was draped in light grey on light grey, a black duffle bag tucked under his arm, dark hair wet and dripping and pasted to his smiling cheeks as the shine of his crescent eyes slowly grew closer.

Park Jimin was calling your name and running at you.

And waving at you too, technically.

His footsteps went from slapping advances to gliding precision, stopping in front of you with a delighted giggle.

“Hi!” Jimin’s voice was higher than you remembered from his half attempt at amending his friend’s actions months ago, but endearing nonetheless as his eyes crinkled around the edges and he chirped, “You’re meeting Yoongi after, right?”

You wet your lips, cheeks hot, “I-I, yeah, yeah I think so.”

The man in front of you giggled again and then there was a gentle hand clasped around yours, gleefully dragging you toward the tunnel he’d game from, “I know so. C’mon, I’ll take you back.”

“I can really wait out here—”

The officer barely looked up as Jimin bounced past and he winked at you over his shoulder, “It’ll be fine, babe, trust me.”

He led you around a confusing maze of hallways, all decorated in jerseys of past players and painted numbers of current players, colored in the hues of the university and screaming more school spirit than you cared to have until you graduated. He dropped your hand in the middle of a long hallway, grey carpet wiry below your shoes, the cinder block walls on either side of you painted an obnoxious color that dizzied your nerves into another unintentional spiral.

“Here good?” Jimin barely paused a beat for an answer before nodding, “He should be out any second.”

You nodded, shoulder blades hitting the slick paint of the wall with a genuine but tight smile, “Thank you, Jimin.”

“Of course!” He heaved his bag under his arm, shooting you another charming smile complete with disappearing brown irises, “Have fun!”

You’d lost track of your timer on account of Park Jimin but you assumed it was somewhere near five minutes over. A man passed by, black polo tucked into beige dress pants with a laminated badge clipped to his belt, one who barely passed a glance in your direction. Another, one around your age but sporting the same uniform dragging a cart of dirtied white towels behind him. You relaxed with each individual that offered you a familiar smile but tensed with each person that wasn’t Yoongi.

You checked your phone three times. Nothing new until the fourth time when Jeongguk called you. You sent it to voicemail and lied about finding someone that was in one of your classes that was going to take you home.

But I may need you later.

You smiled at Jeongguk’s eye roll emoji and you could hear the textual version of his always here.

Taehyung says he is too.

At ten minutes you were lost in a turnoff from the hall Jimin had left you in, intentions faltering from finding Yoongi to bite the cocky smirk from his features to slap it away, thoughts swirling from anxious excitement to jump to the first horrible conclusion. That he hadn’t wanted to meet you, that he’d recruited Jimin in on his plan, that he was standing you up and would effectively get you dragged out and banned from any further athletic event from wandering around in unauthorized territory, that he didn’t actually like you at all really, that he was still the same asshole you’d vehemently harbored a distaste for.

The maze had deposited you back out to the tunnel of the court, one that was nearly void of leftover individuals now, just a student manager and the child of an assistant coach dribbling a tattered basketball off their tiny feet. You set your shoulders, willing to walk the miles off campus in the rain to your apartment to spare some of your pride.

Your surroundings whirled when you took a step forward only to be shuffled backward by an arm looping around your waist. A tiny mewl of protest died in your throat when your hips were twisted around to meet the soft pair of brown eyes that had been imprinted to the back of your eyelids for longer than you cared to admit to yourself let alone out loud.

“Hey,” Yoongi’s thumb brushed your hip and he tilted his head, “Jimin told me he left you back by the locker room but then I couldn’t find you…”

“I went looking for you after twenty minutes. You told me ten.”

“You were timing me?”

“I didn’t think you were coming.”

“I thought you left.”

He laughed first, second arm joining the one snug at the high rise of your waist to draw you against his chest. You laughed too, cheek settled against his shoulder.

“We’ll figure it out,” Yoongi mumbled, lips at your forehead.

You sighed and it was an unconscious brush of your lips against his neck that prompted a purposeful press of your mouth, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” He drew back from you and you reveled in the blush pink that dusted his cheeks from the promise of your lips against his neck. “Did you enjoy the game?”

Your inhale was audible, mostly due to the endearing puff of his cheeks that you wanted to prod at, nose wrinkling enough to make the freckle dotted on the side prominent enough to round your lips over, soft coffee eyes defined on the edges of their gentle unwavering, bleached white drying on the ends in silky pleats begging for the thread of your fingers, petaled mouth a pretty heart that your lips tingled to meet.

“You played well…”

Yoongi hummed, following the drop of your gaze from his lips back to his eyes. The arms on your waist bracketed you to the far wall, the tip of his nose twisting against yours when he his chin twitched to the side, “Yeah?”

Your grip rounded the veins that crossed up the bend of his elbow, anchoring yourself by touching him. “Always.”

His thumbs nudged upward on the hem of your hoodie, nose slotting against your cheek as he peered at the bare skin under calloused fingertips, “I’ll find you something of mine to wear next game. If you want—” His lips touched the corner of your mouth, “—...my good luck charm.”

“You lost with me present though.”

The softness of brewed caramel hardened a bit, bottom lip nudging your cupid’s bow when Yoongi’s gaze shot up, jaw clenching when he rasped, “Watch it, angel.”

You dragged blunt fingernails up his biceps, “Too soon?”

Yoongi shut you up with his tongue between the seam of your lips, hands rounding the curve of your waist so that your hoodie pooled around his wrists, rings cool against your skin as opposed to freshly showered flesh of his palms.

“Ready to go?” He taunted after his teeth had snagged at your bottom lip and nipped at the corner of your jaw.

“I heard it’s raining...”

Yoongi left where he’d been painting a mark on the column of your throat, lips brushing your ear.

“Happen to have an umbrella handy?”

[alithisuniverse]

The Rainbow Starling: Chapter One

Knock knock knock…

I stand on a doorstep, my sister awaits timidly behind me. We’ve only seen this house a few times before, it felt familiar yet unknown. It had a wooden exterior stained purple cobblestone accents. The roof was crafted out of synthetic metal but made to look like hay, and the doormat under us was worn, but could still be read as, Ves’buka la Meiho!, which roughly translated to Welcome to All! The door, with a slight creak, opened up and a warm light hit my skin, assaulting my gaze, as a taller blue-haired woman crouched down and looked at my sister and me.

“I’m glad you two finally showed up. I was getting worried. Come, come.”

She waved us in and stood up, holding open the door. I walked in holding my sister's gentle hand as she grasped mine tightly, and I brought her along. The inside of the house was decorated in a modern way. Art of many styles like abstract, pop art, surrealism, and many more decorated the lavender walls along with pictures of family, friends, and previous pets. She had some sculptures and many shelves on which various knickknacks sat upon. She slightly crouched again, pulling my sister and me into a tight hug where she kissed both of our heads. 

“Here, I see your bags. Let me take them to your room, and then I’ll be back down and I’ll make you guys some hot tea and food. You both look cold.”

My Aunt Miya, the woman who just took us into her home, was always a sweet woman. She was a Blue Starling, a race that both my sister and I were a part of as well. My sister, Coralyn, was a white Starling, and so were both of our parents. I, on the other hand, was a rainbow, Starling. I was adopted into the Galaxy family when I was a young child. I am a product from a lab, a rare starling born every couple millennia to protect the Starling Kingdom and race from any type of evildoers that don’t like us, and trust me, that’s a lot of people who don't. My Aunt was different from my sister and me. The Starlings, which are a race of sentient dust from stars, bound together by a crystal somewhere on their body, have a hierarchy in our home galaxy, the Asterii Galaxy. The top of the hierarchy is the White Starling, people like my sister. I’m also lumped in with the White Starlings because I work at the king’s orders and work alongside the noblemen. They hold this position because of royal ancestry and they were the first Starlings to be made by the creator.  The Blue Starlings, people like my Aunt, are at the very bottom of the Hierarchy. That doesn’t mean much in personality and character, it’s just a system established that pushes people for being a different colored Starling. How it currently sits hierarchy-wise is White, Red, Purple, Yellow, Orange, Green, Blue. I’m not a fan of it, but I have much more on my plate at the moment. My aunt takes the bags out of our hands and walks upstairs with them as we walk out into the kitchen, sitting down at an island in the very center of the room. The kitchen counter was made out of beautiful olive-colored marble, and the counter was held up by dark oak drawers. She had all the necessities too, a sink, an oven, a fridge, and other appliances you’d find in a typical kitchen. Coralyn rested her head down on the counter-top as her pair of cat-ears flattened upon her head. Coralyn, as mentioned, is a White Starling. She has long silverish-white hair with pink tips and a pair of cat ears on her head that also have the same pink tips. She normally wears a crème colored blouse, but currently, she’s fitted with a long-sleeved deep red shirt, a pair of worn-out blue jeans, and a puffy black jacket to keep her warm when we were on our way here. She also has a tail that is white fading into pink that at the moment is swaying low to the ground. 

I, myself, am Star. I’m currently wearing a dark burnt orange sweater, a pair of dark blue worn-out jeans, and also a puffy gray jacket. At the top of my headrests dirty yellow-blonde hair with a pair of brown bunny ears that naturally lean back. Throughout my hair, I have small specks of different colored stardust. Our hair is how we starlings store excess stardust, which can be used in many ways like art, weapons, or even clothing. The longer your hair, the stardust you have to use. My hair personally was a small bulky and curly mess. It didn’t extend down towards my back, but it had volume. As I come back to reality I hear my aunt walk up behind me and rest her hand on my back. 

“Star, Coralyn, what can I make you two eat?”

My Aunt spoke softly, but you could always tell there was a smile on her face by the way she talked. She rubbed her hand through the back of my hair, as she reached over and did the same to Coralyn. 

“Nothing, I want to head to bed.”

My sister’s high-pitched voice mumbled out from her buried face. 

“I’m fine with anything Aunt Miya, I’m not too hungry either though.”

I spoke out, my voice cracking occasionally as I’m finally hitting Starlyosis, the time in which Starlings go from children to adults.

“Hm. How about some soup? I made some home-made Kushivoo soup the other night, I can heat it up in a bowl for you.”

She spoke as she walked towards her fridge. 

I nodded my head, a slight smile cracked on my lips for a few seconds. It felt weird to smile. It’s been a tough few months for my sister and I. We’re just happy to be in a safe home. 

“Me too…. please”

My sister once again spoke out, this time slightly raising her head and holding it up with her hands pressed against her rosy cheeks.

“Okay, a bowl of soup for each of you then! It’s coming right up.”

Aunt Miya added excitement into her voice as she spoke. I’m sure she was excited to have us there as she got divorced when she turned thirty, and never had the chance to have any children. Even though my aunt’s kind and caring personality, I couldn’t help but feel like there was still tension in the air. None of us are talking about the elephant in the room—the fact my parents passed and my eldest sister disappeared only a few months ago. 

“Kids, I want your stay here to be as smooth and wonderful as I can make it, so if you ever need anything, no really anything, please tell me and I’ll fix it right up! For both of you! For either of you! Okay?”

She turns to us, smiling with a slight nervousness added to it. Maybe she’s afraid we aren’t going to like her, but that would be silly; My sister and I always looked up to my Aunt Miya. She was an explorer, an adventurer! She has since halted those dreams to start taking care of us, but you can tell that’s what she’ll always be at heart. The microwave beeps as she takes out the two bowls of soup and sets them down in front of us. She reaches into a drawer and pulls out two spoons and sets them into the bowls. The bowl was filled with a thin, purplish liquid, chunks of white meat, and various types of vegetables native to this planet. I begin to eat the soup, spoonful by spoonful. It was the best food I’ve had in a while and it warmed my body all the way to my core. Coralyn seemed to be enjoying it too as she was wolfing it down. I was happy to see her eating, as she had been eating less and less ever since the events. 

“My my! It looks like you two were hungry, huh? Well, there’s more if either of you would like some.”

My aunt’s smile becomes warmer as she sits down at the other end of the island and displays an article to read with her IRIS. An IRIS is an Intergalactic Reading Intelligence & Subconscious. It does many things like searching the intergalactic web, sending messages from one person to another all the way across the multiverse, or even something as simple as writing down documents. There is also an AI personality built into IRIS, simply referred to by that name, that will aid you in whatever you need—even if that’s just someone to talk to. The holographic article my Aunt is reading shines from a panel in her arm that rests right under her wrist. That is how you access IRIS’s interface; it’s also the older and more traditional way. My sister and I finish our soups around the same time as my aunt looks up from her article.

“Can I get you both more, or are you finished?”

She says, scooting herself out of her chair. 

“I’m done, Auntie.”

My sister spoke out, also standing up out of her chair.

“May I go lay down, I’m tired, Auntie.”

Coralyn once again speaks, pushing her bowl towards aunt Miya. I do the same, as I myself also feel pretty tired. 

Aunt Miya nods, taking the bowls, and sets them down in her sink. 

“Here, before I do the dishes let me show you to your rooms.”

She says while she walks towards the staircase. My sister and I follow behind her, staying close to one another. When we get upstairs, we walk down a short hallway as she stops between two rooms, one on her left and one on her right. 

“Star, you’re in the left room, Coralyn, you’re in the right room, okay? My room is all the way at the end of this hall, so if you need me, you know where to find me. Goodnight, little starlights.”

She pets both of our heads then kisses both of our foreheads and walks to her bedroom. 

“Star… can I sleep with you? I don’t want to sleep alone…”

Coralyn timidly speaks, grabbing the edge of her shirt. 

“Of course you can, Cor. Go get changed into some jammies, and then come into my room. Okay?”

I speak out gently, as she responds with a simple,

“Ok!”

She walks off into her room as I do the same. I walk over to my small luggage bag and pull out one of the few pairs of pajamas I brought with me. I put on a pair of fuzzy blue and white pants, decorated with a brown bear, and a shirt that matches the same theme. The pajamas I grabbed, however, were a pain as they had no hole for my little puffy bunny tail. I pull the back end of my pants down just enough for my little tail to pop out, and I turn off the light. I crawl into the bed, the mattress being surprisingly soft, as the big blue quilt covered the majority of the bed. It was warm and heavy too. My sister knocks on the door, and then slowly creaks it open as she notices I’m in bed. She steps in, and gently closes the door behind her, and waddles over towards the other side of my bed. With one small leap, she gets onto the mattress and crawls under the covers laying on her back as she stares up at the ceiling. Coralyn laid in silence, and so did I. We used to talk about something every night but recently. I then decided to break the silence.

“Do you think Kira is still out there, Cora?”

I spoke, looking over at her.

“I hope so, bubby. I hope so. I’m glad you’re still here.”

She looks at me while talking, a smile forming on her lips.

“That’s all we have now, each other. I’ll be here as long as you need me to Cora, as long as you need me to be. We only have each other and that’s all we need.”

She nods to my statement and looks back up at the ceiling staring blankly.

“I miss mom the most. Is that bad to say? I just related to her more. She always knew what to say, or how to guide us.”

Coralyn spoke emotionless, continuing to stare.

“No, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. You just related to one parent more than the other. I mean I miss Kira the most, but dad and mom still left just as big of a wound. We just related more to different people, you know?”

She nods in agreement to what is said but stays silent until turning away from me. As she does so, she sleepily speaks out,

“Goodnight Bubby.”

I pet the back of her head for a few seconds while saying,

“Goodnight Cora.”

I turn onto my stomach and put both my arms under my pillow turning my head away from Coralyn.