#you'd probably have to let her initiate touch for the first couple times

[tallbluelady]

♡

Another way into Rowan's heart? If you've gotten far enough and she trusts you, she really loves touch. Cuddles, hand-holding, etc. As long as you don't go too far too fast, it makes her feel safe.

Thanks for the ask!

[rogue-durin-16]

MATCHUP FOR

@littlelilbun

can I have male stranger things matchup please? i’m a girl, aries, enfp, my pronouns are she/her. i could be really shy sometimes due to my bad anxiety, but mostly i’m very sweet and bubbly person, i deeply care about my friends, and i’m super affectionate with people who i love. also, my love language is physical touch!!! i’m also very sensitive and emotional person, but i’m fully open with my feelings only with close people in my life. my height is 5’5, i have a petite figure, long brown hair and green eyes, i would describe my style as a hyperfeminine, but i also love to dress cozy! i’m polyglot and i speak 6 languages, and i’m studying linguistics in uni. my other passions are makeup, cinematography and music ofc! i’m obsessed with rabbits and bunnies and all the bunny-themed items! i love cute things, such as clothes, accessories, makeup, stuffies and etc. my ideal partner is someone tall and protective, who would take care of me and be attentive to me and my feelings! and also someone who would cuddle me a lot <3

From Stranger Things I Ship You With:

Eddie Munson

Ship Dynamic:

Mutual Pining™

Quote:

«I'm still afraid to be there, among the hounds of love, and feel your arms surround me; I've always been a coward.»

When I started to read your description I was like "Eddie?" Because yes, Aries and ENFP? And then I was like yeah no but... You'd make a bomb couple.

I was tempted to ship you with Steve (he's being extra hard to match) but something about your vibe made me keep gravitating towards Eddie so here we are.

We're just gonna assume Steve would initially feel attracted to you, but Eddie fully falls hard like the touch-starved, lovesick puppy he is.

I feel like he would misjudge you at first because he tends to do that a lot. First it was a defense mechanism and now he's stuck with that.

I'm gonna put myself in Eddie's shoes and say he'd probably think you're just another airhead girly girl. Boy is he wrong.

He immediately realizes he's wrong too and goes from aloof to eager to know every bit of you.

You have in common just the right amount of things for this relationship to be tandem. A little more would make it boring, and a little less would make it way too explosive.

You're the one who confesses and Eddie loses his shit. He thinks he's so cynical and detached, and here you come wearing your heart on your sleeve and he just wants to run away.

But oh my god he's so in love so he can't.

I just KNOW he's a linguistics nerd (hello fellow Tolkienian), but school's learning methods are just not for him, so you would ALSO mistakenly judge him about this probably.

He asks you to teach him at least one language. It's actually super fun for him and he knows it's fun because of you.

No one, and I mean NO ONE, fucks with you when Eddie Munson is around.

I genuinely don't think he can fight (I literally went through this in one of my fics) but I DO think that he's one scary, obnoxious motherfucker with a bizarre reputation.

I also think he'd do crazy things for the people he loves so if he has to get full on protective he will.

I feel like you'd be super protective of him too in your own way.

He definitely got a pet bunny after learning about your love for rabbits just so you would spend more time at his place. He is THAT extra.

Constant cuddles. You two are so touchy with each other, it's kinda cute but also kinda weird.

I'm not talking about romantic or sexual touch, I'm talking about just touch. Holding hands, his arm over your shoulders, head on the other's lap, leaning on each other absentmindedly etc.

Eddie lets you put makeup on him before he goes out. I don't wanna hear anyone go against this statement because y'all just would be wrong.

He spends an embarrassing amount of money on buying you pretty things to the point where you literally have to scold him for doing so.

You'd see him every weekend even if you're in college and he's not, because he'd drive all the way to see you.

Oh my god you know that one Conan Gray lyric, "They met in class for metaphysical philosophy. He tells his friends, 'I like her 'cause she's so much smarter than me'. They're having talks about their futures until 4:00 a.m." GIRL THAT'S YOU TWO.

Okay okay I'm done, but you'd make a super cute ship just saying.

[scarlettriot]

Okay. I've been sitting on this one for a couple days. Wanted to see more of the family dynamic before planting the idea in your head 😅 But I was initially inspired by the rivals to best friends to lovers fic with Shoto (thank you, again). Anyway...

Shoto and "spending time with each other's family, with the family constantly pointing out how good you would be together because you're just that compatible"

In my head it's a relatively complete Todoroki family, but just Fuyumi and Natsuo would also be good. Also in my head it's an extension/elaboration of that first fic, but you know I'm down for whatever lands in your head 😝

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x F!Reader

A/N: Since your ask was inspired by the rivals to besties to lovers... I present to you... this f*ckin' thing!

Seriously, I probably put too much thought into this but enjoy some background of these two goofballs.

I headcanon Shoto having a stutter that comes out when he's too emotional/nervous. IF YOU AREN'T CAUGHT UP ON THE ANIME OR MANGA SOMETHING MIGHT BE SPOILED. I also didn't really proof this so sorry...

Readers parents are reporters/journalists. Reader has a quirk that allows her to adapt her body to situational needs.

Warnings: SMUT (just some cute sexy times but still minors DNI), swearing, very slight temperature play, undertones of standard Todoroki family trauma.

Word Count: 3K

Six Years Old

Shoto and you walked side by side out of your classroom at the end of the day to wait for your parents and his dad to come to collect you both. But, the minutes ticked by, children ran along, until it was only you and Shoto left.

"My father probably had to deal with bad guy stuff and didn't tell my sister to get me today..." He sat with his chin resting on his knees.

"If it's bad enough, my parents are probably reporting on the bad guy stuff." You were right beside him, pushing pebbles together between your feet.

"Sho!" A spiky white-haired boy came rushing out from the school. He was dressed in a jersey, ready for practice, "Why are you still here?"

Shoto merely shrugged, "I don't know. No one came to get me."

His older brother shook his head. "Dad forgot to call Fuyumi's school again. Big surprise. Wait on the playground and if no one's come to get you, we'll walk home together after practice, okay?"

"What about Y/N?" He called back.

"We'll walk her home first!"

He nodded and let Natsuo run after the other boys.

You two dumped your bags beside the swing set, Shoto settling for taking a seat on one of them while you took off up one of the ramps. "Come play with me, Roki!"

"I'm not supposed to play, remember?"

You stopped giggling and hopping to give him a pointed glare. "Fine. We won't play, we'll train."

He looked up at you suspiciously, "Train how?"

This had to be worded carefully or you knew Shoto wouldn't go for it. "You're a hero and I'm a villain, heroes have to catch villains, so catch me!"

"That's easy, if you were a villain, I'd just freeze you in place and then you'd be caught."

Why did he have to bring logic into everything? There had to be a way to get him to just be a kid.

"You make it sound like I'd be easy to catch! But, if you need something harder, don't use your quirk. If you touch me, then I'm caught." It was tag, you were convincing him to play a game of tag with you cleverly disguised as training that his father could potentially approve of and Shoto took the bait.

"When do we start?"

"Right... NOW!"

Two-toned eyes went wide, watching you jump and squeeze your way through a gap to climb up on top of the slide. "You're so far away! Be careful!"

"I'm a villain, Roki! You'll never catch me!"

He raced up the slide, forgoing standard playground rules for tactics he'd been taught. Getting to someone quickly was more important, take the fastest route possible. Shoto hoisted himself up onto the roof of the playset just in time to watch you slip down over the other side, a fit of giggles in your wake.

But, you didn't drop into the playset, instead, you balanced along one side of the monkey bars, arms splayed wide while you hurried across and Shoto stopped dead in his tracks. "Y/N! That's n-not safe! You could fall!"

"No kindness for bad guys! You gotta catch me Sh-"

Just as he feared, your foot slipped and your hands flayed. He shot out a slide of ice, letting you ride it down to the mulch below. "Y-you're not a b-bad guy! You could have been real-ly hurt!"

It was the first time you'd seen Shoto so worked up. "Roki... my quirk-"

"Your adapt-ting isn't th-that fast!"

He was right, any situation you put yourself in, your body needed roughly a minute to respond and alter to your specific needs. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. But, if we're gonna be heroes then we gotta be ready for tricky stuff."

That look in his eyes wasn't going away. You couldn't tell if it was anger... or fear, all you knew was how much you didn't like it. "Come on, let's keep playing. I'll catch you this time and I won't go climbing where I shouldn't."

It took him a minute before agreeing.

You'd been chasing Shoto for another twenty minutes when a familiar voice called your name. Your father, with his large grin, walked from the sidewalk, "Sorry, kid, you know the bad guys don't always care when we gotta snatch you from school." He spun you around in his arms when you jumped on him, "Grab your bag. Let's make sure dinner's on the table when mama gets home."

"Daddy, no! I can't leave Todoroki by himself."

Your dad looked over where Shoto stood alone, watching the two of you. "You're right, kiddo, we sure can't." He walked by your side over to him. "Shoto, right? My daughter has told me a lot about you."

Shoto just nodded, not knowing what to say, "We don't have to rush home, keep playing around."

"We weren't playing," Shoto corrected him before you could tug him away, "We're training!"

Your father just laughed, watching the two of you go around and around.

Another half-hour flew by, your father just sitting on a bench enjoying watching his daughter and the boy she'd been chattering endlessly about for weeks.

Being a reporter, he knew exactly who the young man was, who his father was and all he could do was hope the man's piss poor attitude didn't extend to his home life too.

He didn't have much hope though, not after learning about the accident that claimed the life of his eldest son, his wife being sent away, or the burn that suddenly appeared on little Shoto's face just last year.

If anyone was able to see past all that madness though he knew it was you. You'd been a ray of determined sunlight from the moment you came into his life, never giving up on anyone or anything.

"You've got some nerve," He turned to the deep voice and narrowed blue eyes, "Showing up at my son's school, watching him like some damn creep, what the fu-"

"You will watch your temper around these children, Todoroki, got it?"

"How dare you!"

"My daughter is playing with her friend."

"My son doesn't have time for friends."

You and Shoto came jogging over, "He's not my friend," All three sets of eyes were now on you. One thrilled, another stunned, and the final, oh, they looked broken, "Todoroki and I are not friends, we train together every day at school during breaks and in class when allowed. 'Cause, we're gonna be heroes one day, and that means all the training we gotta do it. Right, Todoroki?" You bumped his shoulder.

"R-right, yeah, w-we train."

Your father put a hand on your shoulder when Enji Todoroki set his sights on you. "You want to be a hero?"

"Yes, sir."

"It isn't easy, hard work, all the time. Shoto trains every single day."

"I know."

"So does my daughter." Your father added.

"Shoto, does she keep up with you?"

"Uh, yes, s-sir. She u-uses more hand-to-hand styles th-though."

"You need to work on that." His gaze rose, "Your daughter is welcome over on weekends only if she'd like to use our facility."

"We'll discuss it." He picked you up, setting you on his knee, "She's been doing just fine, but, who am I to keep her from her training partner?"

You wiggled before getting to the sidewalk, remembering you had a book Shoto had needed and running it over to him while he waited for his dad to get Natsuo. "Hey, did-did you really mean th-that w-we aren't friend-ds?"

You made sure his dad wasn't looking before giving Shoto a quick hug, "Silly, Roki, of course, we're friends. But, your dad doesn't like friends... so partners and rivals?"

There was the smallest smile on his face, "Partners and rivals."

Thirteen Years Old

The door to the Todoroki's training room slammed open. You and Shoto lay on the floor with heads side by side, chest heaving, sweat clinging to the both of you. "He's gone for the weekend!" Natsuo announced with a cheer, "Whoa, what have you two been doing in here?"

"Training," Shoto told his brother while he tried inclining on his elbows, "Like, we do multiple times a week."

"So that's what the kids are calling it now. Got it, cool, cool," Both you and Shoto shot him a look, "Anyways! I'm having some friends over but I just wanted to let you guys know you could like, relax for once if you wanted."

It was rare you got the chance to hang out with Shoto at his house and not need to be in constant fight/study mode. But, here was the perfect opportunity. Shoto glanced over at you. "Would you want to have dinner and maybe, um, I-I'm not sure."

Natsuo laughed from the doorway, "It's dinner and a movie, Sho. I know you don't really get to be a teenager but, you should at least know how to ask someone out!"

"Wait, b-but I'm not, I'm not asking you out. Just dinner and... movie, as partners."

Flustered Shoto Todoroki was one of the best things to witness. "I know, Sho. Dinner and movies sound good. Can I shower though?"

He nodded, letting you go off while he sought a shower of his own. His sister was in the kitchen when he walked out, a towel still drying his white hair. "I hear someone has a date," She beamed and kept babbling before he could get a word in, "I started making her favorite for dinner, I'll tell her it was your idea though. I've been waiting for this day!"

"Fuyumi! It's not a date! It's j-just Y/N and I eating dinner."

"And watching a movie."

"Y-yes, that too. But, it's just friends, don't make this into so-something weird."

She looked over the rim of her glasses with a sneaky grin. "You're stuttering, Shoto."

He sealed his lips tight and begged her to do the same when he heard the bathroom door open.

Fifteen Years Old

"Sho, there's no way. I barely took down like three of those robots. Other people were cutting them down left and right!"

Your head fell on the table, the envelope from UA still unopen between your fingers. He had nothing to worry about, accepted thanks to recommendations but you, you weren't so lucky.

You gave it your absolute best though, pushing yourself to what felt like your limits in hopes of being accepted but, hell, all you'd really managed to do was help some other examines that had fallen into a man-made river during the test. After they were safe, you only had time to take down a couple robots that were nearly dropped anyways.

The envelope was plucked from your fingers. "What are you doing?"

"Do you want to open it?" Shoto asked.

You shook your head, "But, I don't want you opening it either!"

"I can ask your mother to, she's just in the den, right?" He was already up from the table.

"That's not what I meant, Shoto and you know it!"

You stood behind the sofa and he was in front of it, mirroring your steps with a smirk. "Well, I want to know. Because said we're partners, rivals, I can't just go to a school where you're not."

"You can't just open my mail either! That's like illegal or something! Not very hero-like."

"I'm not a hero yet." He ripped the envelope open and you lunged over the sofa at him making him abandon the letter in order to catch you. "That was very dramatic-" Your attention was stolen by a hologram appearing sideways of a tiny bear? A mouse? Oh, he talked.

Shoto righted it and it wasn't long before your entire house was filled with cheers. Still on the floor, you hugged Shoto tight, his arms circling around you, "Told you, you'd get in."

Your mother had heard the bickering a few minutes ago but stayed in the hallway to let you work things out yourself. Ready to assist if only you asked but, Shoto was there for you, just as he always was. She watched you chase him around the living room like you'd done as little kids, saw you launch yourself at him like the kids you still were.

She hid a soft smile when you cheered and wrapped your arms around him, thanking him for all the support and help he'd given, listening to him return the sentiment.

Through the evening celebrations, she swore she could see the future unfolding before her eyes, faster than it ever had before.

How he held every door open for you, listened whenever you spoke, the way he looked at you when you were talking about everything you hoped to achieve.

And how you reached for his arm when crossing the street, scooted closer so he could put his arm around you when a brisk wind blew, how you watched him when he was busy doing something else, it filled your mother with so much warmth.

"So, are you going to ask him out or wait for him to do it?" She asked as you got ready for bed that night.

"MOTHER!"

She just laughed and walked down the hall to her own room and wondered if you'd have a fall or winter wedding.

Seventeen Years Old

The chatter faded into background noise once you were in the kitchen. Grabbing a glass and filling it to the brim with water and hoping it would loosen whatever this ache was in your chest.

It was supposed to be a fun holiday break. Endeavor was at some hero conference so most of your class planned for a sleepover at Shoto's to celebrate the holiday. And still, something pulled inside, wasn't settling, wouldn't ease up-

"Are you alright, Y/N?"

Fuyumi stood just a few feet from you, worry creased between her brows. "Yeah. Oh yeah, I'm fine, just getting some water!"

"I've known you for over a decade now, I think I can tell when you're lying." You took a long sip, trying to think up something to say so you could get out of this. "I overheard some of the girls talking, saying they think my baby brother has a crush... I'm guessing you think so too?"

Again, you didn't say anything and so she placed her hand gently on your forearm. "Shoto might have a crush, but, I don't think my brother will ever look at anyone else the way he looks at you."

Her words didn't relieve the ache in you, only added yet another layer because it was becoming very apparent that you weren't sure you could look at anyone else the way you looked at him either...

Twenty Years Old

You laid in the quiet of Shoto's bedroom after your run, the shower you shared, with your chin on his chest, cool fingers making lazy patterns over your skin. "My mother is going to be insufferable when she finds out about us." You grumbled.

His laugh was low but absolutely perfect, "I think my sister's going to be worse."

With a jolt, you shot up, hands beside his head. "What's your father going to say? All these years of being your not-friend! He's going to have a fit!"

He just rolled his eyes and flipped you both over, strands of red and white hair falling in your face, his nose brushing against yours. "It's a good thing that fourteen years has made me care a whole lot less about what Endeavor thinks."

Shoto's lips met yours for what felt like the hundredth time that night, slow and easy, using a knee to nudge your legs apart for him again while he worked his way down your jaw, down your neck, "Can we wait to tell them, just for a day or two?" You cocked a brow at him even though he was still trailing down your body, "They're all so nosy, I just want you to myself for a day or two." He kissed between your breasts, "Maybe a week if you let me." Lower his lips ventured, "We don't even have to leave this apartment..."

His tongue, cooled to a temperature he quickly figured out you preferred, licked a lazy line making your answer turn into a needy whine. "Sorry? Was that a, 'yes, Sho, that sounds like the best idea you've ever had?' Yes, yes, I know it is."

As soon as you opened your mouth, he pulled your hips so his tongue was flat on your core, holding you tightly to him. Your hands fisted the silky sheets, letting him have his way with you yet again. He'd bring you close to the edge only to back off, "Did you say you want to stay here for two weeks? Even better, darling." And he'd start all over again.

It took him only minutes to have you crying his name again, kissing his way back up to your face. "You have- a- very- persuasive argument," Panting, trying to come down from your high, "Let's just tell 'em the next time we see them," Your hips wiggled against him, despite how many times you'd already fucked you still wanted more, "If we don't see them for a couple months, eh, who cares?"

Three-Days Later

"Pay up! I said before they were 21!" Your mother was boasting to your father.

"Technically, Shoto turned 21 last month." Rei pointed out with a smile while Endeavor just shook his head at the antics.

Fuyumi was already asking Shoto how he was planning on proposing, turning the poor man into a stuttering pre-teen again.

"WAIT!" Natsuo slammed his cup down on the table, "You mean, you guys haven't been together since you were like thirteen!" He started listing off all the couple-y things you two did, the flirting and little banter, he'd witness while Fuyumi patted his shoulder.

"They're together now, that's all that matters."

[absentia-if]

8. “Lay back, relax, let me take care of you.”

For M. Someone gotta take care of this overworked bird.

You watch, with barely concealed concern, as M continues to sort through the various documents strewn across their desk-- the pinched quality to their brow told you that they weren't even close to figuring out what it was that was vexing them so. It was times like this that you wished that you could understand what it was exactly that M did-- besides the few things that you Googled-- so you could help them.

Always the one to help others, but is never able to take care of themself...

Juliette's words from your first meeting with her echo through your mind. You're well aware of M's propensity to shoulder the burdens of others, as well as their own, but you had hope that M would begin to see that you were there to help them too-- that you weren't going to let them go through anything alone if they'd just talk to you.

It seems that if you wanted anything to change you'd have to be the person to initiate it-- something that would start right now.

"M," you call, keeping your voice low to not startle them. At the distracted hum in response, your brow furrows even further. "M!"

The sharp quality of your voice, coupled with the volume, causes azure blue eyes to snap up from the desk to your narrowed gaze. If it had been any other time you probably would have melted at how adorable their confused expression looked, but this wasn't any other time. You needed them to see that stressing themself out while continuing to work, wouldn't solve anything-- both for them and for their patient.

"Is everything all right, baby?" M tilts their head to the side. The cursory glance, to make sure that you were unharmed, over your body warms your heart-- always the gentle protector.

You shake your head. "No, M, everything is not all right."

Before you can even blink, M stands from behind their desk and quickly makes their way toward you. The expression etched across their face is one of controlled worry while they drop to their knees to take your hands in theirs.

"What's wrong, darling?" They press a light kiss to the back of your hand. "Tell me what's bothering you."

Knowing that you had to tread this line very carefully, you decide to play on one of M's greatest weaknesses-- the ability to comfort you.

"I was just wondering if you'd hold me for a little while." You place a gentle hand on their cheek-- stroking their cheekbone with your thumb as you offer them your best smile. "I've missed you."

M leans into the touch, but you can tell that they're conflicted on what to do. "You know I love, nor want, anything else but you in my arms, my love--" They cast a furtive glance to their desk before turning back to you. "I-I just have a lot of work to do."

"No," you say, firm in your conviction to get them to rest. "Please, M. Just lay back, relax, and let me take care of you. You can get back to work in a little bit."

There's a brief moment of hesitation before they offer you a gentle smile-- the corners of their azure blue eyes crinkling with the force of it.

"How about we take care of each other?"

You smile in reply-- immensely happy when M rises from their position on the floor to settle beside you and pull you into their arms. With your head on their shoulder, you couldn't help but think that there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

As long as you had each other nothing could be any more perfect.

[darlingpwease]

precious special grade yuuta and his special grade darling <3 truest power couple <3 he'd be exponentially drawn to you if you were protective of him; you'd like him?? that much?? i mean... have you seen the other first years??.... are you sure?

in spite of the powerful amalgamation that is his dead best friend frantically swiping at you when you closely enter his perimeter, you still make the effort to smile at him charmingly and ensure that his training goes smoothly, and calm him down when he's frantic about the enemies, and eat with him on breaks, and see to that he isn't teased too much, and-- how can you expect him NOT to get flustered? he's so... unused to this, this strong positive bond after a life of induced isolation + unprocessed trauma; and he's likely to do anything, absolutely anything, to protect it. even if you're so much more skilled than him-- easily triumphing over him every time, he just wants to return the gesture, okay?

shdneg and when rika's soul finally passes on, im sure he'd be glad he's finally able to be fully... interested in private sparring sessions... just from an experienced special grade sorcerer to another special grade, you know? thus, it would require his full attention.

what a hassle, your white clothes. the others might be able to deduce what happened; when he grinds on your pants, or when his cum slicks down the front of your uniform, when he sobs into your shoulder.. if it leaves an opaque stain, a brand of his neediness, he'd be a taaaaaad too mortified. still, he's the one attached to your hip and constantly desiring to initiate sex, so.... law of equivalent exchange <3

blackout

content warnings: power imbalance (heavy implied), pet names, mutual obsessive behaviour (light worshipping r., clinginess, you are very coddling him & slightly brainwashing without realizing it), traumatic experience is mentioned (forced social isolation, lack of social experience, slightly delusional thinking, touch + attention starvation, he is such a desperate puppy), few emotional breakdowns here and there; poor little woof woof who can unexpectedly bite, now he has a gray morality

heavy petting, crying, oral sex (r.), hyperstimulation (g.), hypersexuality / fuck make love all the time

Yuuta is just a huge simp & pleaser; you're a disaster... and simp.

sjshjshshs,,, zjshsjsjjdd,,,, sjsjs,,,, listen, love, but when you belong to a special class,,,,,,,, this is the kind of food that I can eat at any time,,, my guilty pleasure,,,,,,

Maybe- maybe you have a few problems here and there because of how strong and over-developed you are — and maybe that's why when another "special grade" gets into the class, you don't even try to make it clear that you won't patronize and coo over him, forcing 'sensei' accept it, since this will still remain the most acceptable way.

In the end, it's obvious that Yuuta needs to get used to people — and it's obvious that leaving him with you is the best solution. Other 'fellow students' need time to get used to him, and it's even good that you, instead of considering him a threat, were so welcoming and affectionate; although it's a bit like you treat him neither as a pet nor as a younger brother, it's still much better than a hidden or open enmity with the curse in his body. Yuuta is so timid and restless, which makes Rika feel an even greater desire to hide him from others, so your ignoring such troubles is actually a solution — or maybe sensei just doesn't want to do this, this option is also very plausible, but you don't mind.

Rika doesn't treat you very well, but you still convince the nervous Yuuta that it doesn't matter, you understand everything; in the end, she's probably almost cute, you understand her — you wouldn't want to let go of such the cutie either. You just want to get along with him, and no curse can stop you if it can't even seriously hurt you, and although Rika is definitely unhappy to hear this, Yuuta can't deny that for some reason he felt warm.

Maybe it's your gentle friendliness in spite of his complex behavior, maybe the understanding that he can't hurt you anyway and you don't mind any of his peculiarities — but you just seem so special and inspiring confidence. Next to you, he just feels so protected and safe; you will protect him from others, and protect others from him — he should not worry about such things while you are around.

You understand what it's like to have a huge uncontrollable power, and you are ready to help him out of pure enthusiasm, even if his, um, hyperprotective friend is not very happy with you. But it doesn't matter, as long as he wants you — you are sympathetic and understanding, and he should take advantage of this!

Or when you wander around, saying something and helping him feel more at ease, convincing him that you understand him (almost mockingly "how can anyone understand you better than him" — you hope that he shares these feelings), and Yuuta feels so frivolously happy, feeling how you unobtrusively look after him and take care of his comfort, even if he blushes too desperately and is confused at first; he reaches for the intensity that you want to give him, too hungry for positive attention and the feeling that someone from the living people want to form a connection with him.

When you want "the best for him", gently convincing him that you, of course, know what is best — but you do not insist at all and do not force him. Yuuta is so desperate that even if you are cooing over him out of some much less innocent intentions, he lets you do it as long as you make him feel full of this delight. He has no experience, no understanding, except blind faith and feelings that you will not do anything wrong for him — and that he wants to return all the good that you indiscriminately gave him, at least as an unconditional trust, so as not to even cause you to doubt his gratitude.

You take care of him all the time, soothe him, gently almost tease him, teach him, listen and hear him — Yuuta can't even remember when someone was so affectionate and caring, but even when he involuntarily cries, telling you about it, you accept him.

Do you really think that he will not be greedy, feeling loved and needed? Even if your love is at first the purest platonic, he can't help but stick to you at any moment when he is free. You are so similar, but so different — and he is desperately reaching out to become the same, to become even better, to be worthy.

When his nervousness, his shyness, his fearfulness is replaced by devotion and loyalty; when he feels that now it's his time to give you more than to accept.

It doesn't matter what you want, he'll get it for you.

He is still the same gentle and slightly anxious, with his silly love for any animals, excessive politeness and the constant need to cling to you — but you are not sure that he is really the same Yuuta who screamed whenever you did not try to look as harmless as possible. The same Yuuta who blushed from any proximity, was afraid of unexpected touches, was sensitive even to a non-soft aura and could not even hold a weapon in his hands. Yuuta, who wanted to dispel Rika, told you about his past and asked about yours.

But it doesn't really bother you — and no one knows for the worse or for the better.

Yuuta does not like to fight, he hates to fight, he hates to fight back; he is too soft and hothouse, like a flower blooming only under the moonlight, because the sun is too bright for him — he does not understand the thirst for battle, he does not understand the meaning of fighting for himself if he can hide and run away... but he takes when you allow yourself an almost gentle teasing during another victory over him, that maybe one day you will need protection.

The curses are getting stronger every season, and even though you haven't lost yet, who knows when you will meet that curse that will kill you?

You have no idea what is going on in his head during these words,

even if you then joke that it is because of the fleetness of your life that he should try and show you what he is capable of while you are alive. Of course, you're not going to abandon him or leave, but you don't choose when you die — Yuuta is weak, even despite his grade, and you see that; so why wouldn't he fight for the sake of protecting you one day if he doesn't want to fight for the sake of a fight and doesn't want to fight for himself?

... Do you think about the real meaning of these words for him?

It doesn't matter, huh? When he starts fighting for real, trying, albeit clumsily, to fight back — that's the only thing you care about. The puppy will not learn commands if it is not trained; the flower will not be able to fly without wind; Yuuta will not be able to learn until he can fully give himself.

When he, wet from sweat, but burning, rushes into battle again to be shot down, but the next time he does not make the same mistake — only then do you feel satisfied. You are experienced and strong — those who do not have a real goal always die. And although it may not be morally right or rational to tie him to protect his life, but first you have to make him strong, and only then — help him to rethink.

Yuuta cries when you are tender to him, like,,,, he missed ordinary human love so much,,,, when a living person, breathing and warm, touches him, or says encouraging words, or just eats next to him, he feels so... social. You know, as never before, when he was only bullied or shunned. As if he has a friend.

Even if at first it may seem to you that he is too nervous or clumsy — he looks at you as if at a fire, almost avoiding your overly active friendly gestures, but eventually warms up, even if his skin burns when you touch him; and he would be scared by an unexpected almost pain, if he wasn't so ruddy and hot because of treacherous excitement.

You just take his hand (with his permission), noticing how he becomes, as soon as you put hand on his shoulder, and he just freezes when feels your skin. It's just so different compared to his, and he would like to say "tougher", but this is wrong — he himself has no idea why your skin feels like this, but wants to hold it forever, and again awkwardly breaks down, feeling that he can at least take someone's hands for such a long time years since Rika... died.

(you will probably have to calm him down again, even if he tried to restrain himself, but he is one of those who actually calms down when he is told to "calm down", even if at first, realizing that you still want to deal with him despite his emotional instability, he may start crying harder)

Yes,,,,, when Yuuta gets even closer to you, being less controlled — you can have a lot more time alone than before, without being afraid that someone will interrupt you if you are a little less gentle with him. Of course, these are just "training fights", but you take care that they are not sparing — when you knock him down again, forcing him to fall back.

Maybe you are a little excessive when hovering over him, not letting him rise, but this is for a better dive — does he really think that by remaining so weak and soft, he will be able to survive? You are sure that this is not the case. When his body shudders, feeling your fingers slide over the skin — hee, he's so sensitive, even though you didn't even try to be gentle; to be so excited after was beaten — it suggests certain thoughts.

Even if he blushes desperately, mumbling something, but does not even try to get out, letting your teasing slip away, — ignores or loves? — you can't help but feel excited for a moment, realizing that right now, sprawled under you, hot and tired, but waiting for your words, like a tamed obedient puppy, not even thinking that you might not be so kind — or would he be ready to accept you in any way?

He's so desperate to be "decent"; letting you do what you want, as if he has no shame or boundaries when it comes to you.

And you certainly aren't so vicious or full of lust to take advantage of someone who is so obedient and flexible for you, even if you don't feel any hitches or reluctance when you get too close and loom too un-teacher-like, but he doesn't break the silence with anything but a quiet almost moan when you put your hand on his shirt, feeling how fast his heart is pounding.

You are of the same rank — so why are you so different? Why is he so weak and unable to fight you back, why can you go so easily, why does he look up at you like that, letting you unbutton his shirt?

How would he react if you bent down right now and left a bite on his skin? His adam's apple moves when you look down — he definitely guesses what you're thinking, but he doesn't make a squeak.

Unsurprisingly, to everyone, Yuuta looked like the perfect victim.

Too good and pretty for his own good.

When you get too close to his ruddy face, he holds his breath.

“Training is over for today.”

Maybe when there was Rika, it was better. At least then you knew what was waiting for you for succumbing to temptation.

Now you weren't even sure that your attraction was unrequited.

(his stomach was slightly exposed when you undressed him. It will be good if neither this facial expression, nor his trembling, nor his stomach does not dream of you)

ajsgsjhshs,,,,, sjsjskskks,,,, shshshsh,,,,,,,,

When there are stains on your clothes, and you grumble that it's some kind of dirt, and what difference does it make, with these stains you will definitely be more noticeable, "isn't that what they wanted?", and Yuuta tries not to look embarrassed and ashamed, because when he rubbed against you- he didn't even think about it- it's not his fault, he can't think about anything when you're so close and he's so hot- but he's still very sorry...

Although next time he remains just as desperate when thigh riding you, gradually more and more drooling, clinging to your clothes, as if afraid that you will push him away, until he cums, hugging you tightly. He loves to snuggle so much, as if really trying to become one with you until his body becomes exhausted — and although you will definitely have to struggle with white clothes again (at least not as noticeable on white as you make your lover come to unconsciousness), Yuuta looks too good when crying in your shoulder, too sensitive due to constant touching.

Maybe you need more sets of white clothes than you planned, but you're still fine — it's worth it to see him timidly happy because of the next marks, even if he then helps you wipe them off. In the end, you still didn't like these clothes that were like a target for others — or at least that's what you tell him.

(although make him kneel down to properly apologize after he soiled your clothes... </3 he makes such cute noises when tries to be as pleasant as possible, letting you pull his hair and feeling so warm when you let him know that you feel good,,,, maybe a little in the morning, especially if it's hard for you to wake up — he just wants to be helpful <333)

(... or is it just an excuse to constantly touch you — he is so needy and touch starved that he is happy when you fuck his mouth or ride,,,, oral warming? oral warming)

[johnsamericano]

『 ‎ ‎لąҽհվմղ / ᎠҽӀմʂìօղ 』

warnings: mental illness implied, hallucinations, meds, aggressive jaehyun, implied sexual relations.

taglist: @nakamotocore @jisooapproved @la-ra-rumi @winwiniee @yijiujiujiu @nctlovesme

loveholic masterlist.

Lies.

That's what Jaehyun hated the most in the world, lies.

He hated the way you'd smile at him during class, only to pretend he wasn't even there as soon as you exited the room. It wasn't fair. He wanted to confront you, wanted to ask for an explanation for your uninterested attitude, but anytime he'd try, words got stuck in his throat, choking him uncomfortably.

Jaehyun wasn't sure when his interest in you began growing. He was never one to have secret crushes, so then, why you? What made you special enough for him to like you?

The answer came one lucky day when the professor paired you up together for a project. While people usually whined when being put in the same team with someone other than their friends, you seemed all but annoyed, smiling with your white, pearly teeth and waving at him as if he were your very best friend.

“Guess you’re stuck with me.” It was his first time speaking to you, beads of sweat collecting on his upper lip. “Jaehyun, right?”

He hated small talk almost as much as lies. Almost. But when it came to you, he could do it all day long if it meant listening to your delightful voice. All of his pent-up frustrations scattered as you started planning your schedule to work on the project. He’d only hum in approval, still too shy to speak to you.

“So tomorrow's okay with you?” Your head was tilted to the side, the tender skin of your neck looking awfully tempting. He pictured himself kissing it, having you struggle under his weight while he kissed it for hours on end. “Jae?” He was pulled out of the scenario his mind was working through by a gentle hand on his wrist.

There were no mirrors nearby, but the tips of his ears were surely tinted red by now. But most importantly, his pants were becoming uncomfortably tight in his crotch area. A touch from you was all his body needed to go insane.

“Sure.” You smiled, removing your hand from its previous spot. His skin itched for more contact, but he was too shy to initiate anything. “I need to go to the restroom.”

He rushed out of the classroom with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, pushing the fabric forward to conceal his growing boner. He relieved himself inside the small cubicle, his own heavy breathing muffled under the sound of a couple doing less than appropriate things inside the following stall. Would that be you and him one day? Probably, but not quite yet.

Your kindness had no limits. That's what Jaehyun thought when you sat down to have lunch with him, the guy who no one ever liked enough to hang out with.

“Why?” He asked on the second occasion you sit with him.

“Because I like you.”

You started hanging out more often not long after that. Even after you handed in your work, you were keen on staying by his side, and he had nothing to complain about. It was as if the universe was finally smiling at him, all the times you'd ignored him after class now long forgotten. He was happier, brighter than usual. He told his roommate, the closest friend he had, about you. He was happy for Jaehyun, of course, but a feeling in his gut told him something was off.

The night before your spring break started, you invited him to a frat party. He’d never been to one, he didn't like them. But you were so insisting that he had no other choice but to oblige. The entire house smelled like sweat, alcohol, and drugs, disgusting, he thought. However, it was all worth it when he finally got to see you, tucked inside a tight dress that showed the figure you'd so thoroughly hide in baggy shirts. He approached you, wanting to greet you, but one of your friends dragged you away. He didn't mind it, the night was still young and he'd have plenty of time to be with you.

Not even five minutes later, you reappeared by his side, giving him one of your signature eye smiles.

“Having fun, pretty boy?” A light blush crept up his face, settling at the tip of his ears. “Let’s dance.”

His hands were firmly gripping your hips as you rubbed your body on his, causing a more than an obvious problem in his pants. Before his brain could register the current events happening, your lips were on his. It all felt too sudden, yet, he enjoyed the way you'd nip at his lower lip. It sent him to frenzy.

“I’m so wet, Jae.” You mumbled seductively against his fleshy pillows. “Want you to make me feel good.”

You dragged him to the closest room, increasing under his adoring gaze. You were so beautiful, and all his. The promise of your union was sealed that night, as you fell asleep between his arms after three intense rounds of pure bliss.

“Jaehyun?” He felt someone shaking his shoulder, it was a male voice. His arms instinctively closed tighter around your naked body to hide it from whoever was calling him, only to realize it wasn't you who was between them, but a mere pillow. “Dude, get up.” It was his roommate Johnny, picking him up after he got a call from one of the frat members. “You got so wasted yesterday, let's go, I'll take you for food.”

Wasted? He hadn't drunk anything the previous night. Nonetheless, he left the house after dressing up. He tried calling you as they waited for their waffles to no avail.

“Jaehyun, I saw your pills today in the trash bin. Have you stopped taking them?” Johnny seemed truly concerned.

“I’m better now, John. For real.” The sincerity in his words put his roommate’s heart at ease. “I found someone, I like her a lot and it seems like she does as well.”

“Dude, that's awesome. We should hang out soon, I'll invite my girlfriend.” A double date, it felt like you and Jaehyun were finally official. But the question remained, why had you left the house early in the morning?

“Sure.”

Because you wouldn't pick up any of his calls, he had to wait until Monday to confront you. During breakfast, Johnny had crushed some of his pills and sneaked them into his eggs, you can never be too safe, he thought. And, oh boy was he right.

You were picking up your belongings from your locker, getting ready to go back home during the break.

“Hey.” He leaned against the closest wall, flashing you a dimpled smile.

“Oh, hey...Jay, right?” Was that a joke?

“Sure, whatever you want. So, my roommate wants to meet you, just let me know whenever you have time and I'll tell him. By the way...” He leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of your ears. Some curious eyes were looking at you, eager to know what was happening. “I really enjoyed that night, but it would've been better if I'd woken up with you between my arms.”

“Excuse me?” You backed away abruptly, escaping his proximity. “I think you're taking me for someone else.”

“What do you mean?”

Realization hit him like a truck. You were ignoring him yet again, but he wasn't gonna take it this time. He hated lies.

“Come with me.” He gripped your forearm, easily dragging you all the way to the janitor's closet. “You don't get to play dumb with me anymore. Stop fucking lying.” You looked like a scared little mouse about to be eaten by a cat.

“I-I’m sorry, but I'm not lying, the only time I've spoken to you was when we worked together. We haven't been in touch ever since.” Even in a situation like this, you still pretended to be kind.

“Lies.” His hands closed against your neck, slightly choking you. “I don't like them, so you better be good and tell me the truth before I do something we'll both regret.” Your eyes welled with tears as you begged for your life, his grip getting tighter with every second. “Come on, angel.”

“I’m sorry, I'm a liar!” Your air supply was running short and your only option was to say what he wanted to hear, even if it was just a lie. “Please!”

“That’s a good doll.” He let go of your bruised neck, letting you fall on your knees as you coughed. “Now, you better stop lying for your own good, are we clear?”

“Yes!” You choked out, unsure of what was happening at the moment.

“I’ll call you later, have your phone by your side.”

You had walked into a trap without even knowing it.

[chqrryvelvet]

Hi could I request headcanons for chuuya and dazai(you can include any other character you'd like☺️) when their s/o doesn't really express love, cuz she feels filthy whenever someone touches them, but doesn't mind if chuuya/dazai give them affection, but sometimes when she's touch starved she won't show it but she will just put the back of her hand on their cheeks for a few mins and go on with what their doing (omg this is huge, it's okay if you don't write the headcanons, have a nice day <3)

ngh

chuuya nakahara

• he’s not huge on physical affection either if i’m awnest

• not to the extent that he feels gross if someone touches him

• he is just not used to it

• so he’s not too bothered by it when you first meet but as you two start getting closer he will maybe... try to initiate... omg 😣 scary of him

• he is almost shitting his pants (almost) at the thought of touching you because what if you don’t like him like that or what if you think he smells bad

• news flash you already think he smells bad... you think about telling him to take a shower

• anyways

• when YOU initiate the touching he doesn’t realize that you’ve touched him until you pull away and you’re blushing or whatever

• and he short circuits.

• anytime you place the back of your hand on his cheek he is like a dog

• woof 🐶

• would worship the ground you walk on if he wasn’t cool 🙄😻😁👨‍🦳❤️😏

• sometimes he will force you to cuddle with him if he’s had a bad day and you will hesitate slightly but he makes you anyways

• if someone tries to touch you he will probably bark at them (what did i say... he is a dog yup)

• not even because you don’t like to be touched he just doesn’t like anyone trying to do something that only he can do

• that is certified baddie priv 😁

• sometimes he does get insecure boooo

• because you don’t show him a ton of love all of the time and he maybe wishes sometimes you would be a little more clingy

• but who are you to change for a man

• he will survive

dazai osamu

• tease

• why does this 😈 emoji show up when that word is mentioned ... 🤔

• n e ways he will give you so much shit for not showing him affection at first

• eat his toes so he cannot walk that’s the only option

• no but he is so mean to you 😣 give y/n rights.

• “it’s ok y/n you don’t smell too bad today! i am ok with a hug :]”

• big mon pls ur embarrassing yourself! stop!

• but sometimes you get sad 😔 because all of the tv shows you watch to try to gain some normalcy in your life have cute couples and you realize you want what jake and amy have

• so you knock on his door one day and give him a hug 🫂 aw

• and then you stay the night because you will not let go of him

• he cannot even act cocky because he was not expecting it! y/n - 69 dazai - 0

• after that you are officially together. cute. and you progressively are more ok with him initiating contact with you but you prefer going to him more

• he especially loves when you lean over him when he tries to show you something

• or when you run your hands through his hair because you think it’s soft

• will make comments like “oh my, what is this? vying for my affection?!”

• you don’t talk to him after that

• all in all it’s healthy. he enjoys ur company :]

akutagawa ryuunosuke

• he doesn’t care

• but sometimes you wish he would 🤨 do better.

• he doesn’t notice

• until one day you are out doing mafia tingz in 4k action and someone tries to touch you just to be gross

• and their hand! sliced clean off! wow!

• aku is shocked because that was hot! double wow!

• he also gets worried because when you get back to base you’re scrubbing your hands furiously trying to get the yucky feeling off

• yeah so he liked you... a lot. but now he’s not sure if he’s even allowed to look at you pls

• but then you get hurt after the two of you have progressed in your relationship from acquaintances to friends (cute) and he’s helping tend to your wounds

• but then he stops half way when he comes at you with the bandage because he respects you and does not want you to look at him different_ or worse- lose an arm

• you eye him a little confused and then you realize! oh! and then you softly murmur “you can touch me, akutagawa. it’s ok if it’s you...”

• whew that sent him into a coughing fit

• get aku an inhaler

• anyways after he’s done you hug him! and tell him thank you.

• once you start dating i feel like he would actually show you a lot of affection if he really really really really really likes you

• which he does

• give him a hug and he will combust...

[b0rista]

— 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.

WARNINGS: light angst & swearing.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: he's one of my ultimate favorite snk characters, and i needed to cleanse my page of the heavy ass warrior content djjfjf.

"you're either a blessing, or you're a lesson. either or, you and i met for a reason."

with all of the gore and the misfortune that comes with your livelihood, it's connie that gets you through it.

as expected, you first fell in love with him for his humor. not for the humor itself, but for how it shed the smallest flicker of joy upon a heaping tower of despair— as soldiers, you needed that. fortunately, he was the one that brought it to the table. even during your days as cadets, connie lived to make you laugh. hearing a chuckle flutter from your core served as a form of therapy for him, and with time, he grew addicted.

with that being said, he does the stupidest shit in order to get your attention. even when you're together, he'll do what needs to be done. for example, one time, he tried to impress you by doing a trick while saddled up on his horse. in an attempt to twirl like a jackass ballerina, the horse decided that it deserved better, and kicked him clean off its back. at the sight of his 5'2 ass being hoisted eight feet into the air, you nearly choked.

prepare yourself, he's a cuddler. after a particularly hard day's worth of work, connie finds solace in bedding up with you, knowing that you're safe, and with him. he asks that you don't tell anybody, but he actually really enjoys cuddling as the little spoon. to have his head pressed against your chest, his ear to your heartbeat, brings him comfort. of course, he'll never detest to being your big spoon, either. he absolutely loves the feeling of you buried within his touch.

^ if you ever want to go an evening without cuddling, he'll be immediately offended. never, ever, ever will the two of you fall asleep back to back. he simply won't have it, it makes him feel as if something's wrong. and if that is the case, nobody's falling asleep until you've talked about it and successfully sorted it out.

at the beginning of your guys' relationship, everyone worried for you. did he coerce you, y/n? are you being forced? has he threatened you, has he threatened your family? nobody could grasp the fact that connie motherfuckin' springer had managed to pull you.

if there's any sort of sour talk regarding you, no matter how little it is, this man will leap to your defense. one time, jean called your bedhead ugly, and connie propelled a moldy roll of bread into his forehead. in the end, a massive food fight erupted, and you were just standing there with your bedhead like 🧍‍♀️

HOWEVER, there was an instance that actually led to a genuine, real fight between you two as a couple. you'd managed to scuff up your leg during the battle with kenny the ripper and his associates, and when it came down to who was and who wasn't going to tag along for the eren & historia rescue mission, connie belittled you to the team behind your back. not because he actually felt that way, but because he'd do anything to maintain your safety— even if it meant hurting your feelings. telling captain levi that your abilities were inadequate for that particular mission hurt him, but he did what he felt was necessary.

in the end, though, levi saw through the charade. to connie's dismay, you came with to save eren and historia. and during the entire journey, you didn't even utter a word to him. of course, though, during the battle, you put your frustrations aside. once you saw your lover's head nearly get kicked in during combat, you understood his intentions, and you forgave him. as expected, he replied to your forgiveness with humor,, his go-to coping mechanism.

"considering how sexy i looked on the battlefield, i knew you wouldn't be able to resist."

whenever his hair starts to grow out, you're the one that gets to cut it back down! he's able to do it himself, but he really likes it when you do it. you're typically propped up in his lap, sitting face to face as you file down his edges. he always loops his arms around your waist, intently staring you in the face— seeing you so concentrated on his hair, he can't help it.

you wouldn't expect this from connie whatsoever, but he likes it when you read to him. pick a literature of your choice and let him kick back and rest his head onto your lap, pleasE. he'll close his eyes, and for the first time in forever, stay still. the only time he and books ever coexist is when you're reading one to him. he'll also make fun of you whenever you stumble over a sentence,, so get ready.

the day you realize that this motherfucker is nearing six feet tall, you're ready for the holy spirit to whisk you away. literally, you measure his height on the weekly once you realize he just keeps gaining inches. that, and when he starts growing more into his face? lawd, take you now.

"connie, you're getting seXY-"

"what the hell does thaT mE A N-"

many, many proposals. none are meant to be taken seriously, which the both of you know. still, there are far too many proposals between the two of you. one time, you killed a fly midair, and he thought you were the baddest bitch on the block.

"marry me."

another time, he swooped you into the air with his maneuvering gear, and as you held onto him for dear life, you looked him dead in the face: "marry me, you baldheaded bastard."

it can be a reel, how many times the two of you say that bullshit. somehow, it's cute.

he doesn't really take basic boundaries into consideration. like, one time, you caught him using your toothbrush because he couldn't find his. it wasn't fun, you had to give him a serious talking to.

he is, without a doubt, constantly prepared to lay down his life for you on the battlefield. during his time as a soldier, he's grown significantly strong— and once he fell in love with you, he's felt even stronger. not only do you give him drive, but you lend him strength. with that being said, you're somebody he'd die for without even an ounce of hesitation. and knowing him, he's probably made that more than obvious.

when connie's village was destroyed and it was discovered that his entire family was turned into titans, you were one of the only ones to actually comfort him. you were absolutely enraged at how nonchalantly your lover's loss was set aside, and although he'd tried his hardest to conquer the grief alone, it was you who sat at his bedside at night, cradling him in your arms as he wept. never in your life had you seen him so distraught. after that period of time, your relationship with him only deepened in its seriousness. 

as expected, you and sasha spend quite a bit of time together! after all, that's your boyfriend's best friend. given her easygoing nature, it didn't take long for sasha to absolutely adore you. naturally, she wonders how the hell you manage to operate with a boyfriend like that, but she tries not to ask questions.

speaking of the wonder twins, they love getting you in trouble. whenever the two of them think up an astonishingly moronic shenanigan, there's a solid 50/50 chance that you'll be looped into it, too. one time, they purposefully dulled jean's razor, and when he went to shave, it only ended in him splitting his face open due to placing too much pressure. as a joke, those two jackasses carved your initials into the handle. when jean decided that he'd murder you, connie tried playing the hero, lEapiNg to your defense. it was stupid, and it didn't work. you still laugh about it, though.

there have been several jokes regarding starting a family and growing old together— secretly, though, connie doesn't want them to just be jokes.

he stole a stray cat for you. yup, yes he did. the two of you were walking about the city, and you saw a gray-haired sleeping beside a trash bin behind a local vendor. you compared its fur to the color of his hair, calling it cute. out of impulse, connie went back to that exact same vendor later on that day, trapped the cat in a box, and brought it to your doorstep.

his forearms and fingertips were covered in claw marks, but to see your face light up the way that it did, any amount of pain was immediately worth it.

after the nickname that shadis had given connie on the first day of cadet training, you named the kitty q-ball. 🥺

during the season four era, the two of you share a house. at first, captain levi argued against it— "put a pair of horny teenagers in a home together, what do you think is gonna happen?"

y'all said fuck it, and lived together anyways. it's you, him, and your lovely child, q-ball. occasionally jean, too. some nights, he doesn't want to be alone.

eskimo kisses. during the prepping of every single mission, you'll get eskimo kisses. it's a small, loving gesture the two of you do before heading into the battlefield. as a sign of your love, you'll press your foreheads together and rub noses, weapons holstered and ready for combat. it's a serious tradition, and it'll never be ignored.

and after a mission, connie has this habit of pinching your cheeks immediately after rushing towards you. it isn't to be cute, either. it's so that he can scan you, and check you for any harm. basically, it's him squeezing the life out of your face while bombarding you with questions.

expect supremely cheesy pet names! bae, biscuit, buttercup, baby thing, sexy bitch, and so on. if it were anyone else, he would 100% make fun of them. but it's him, therefore adorable.

[elriel-oblivion]

So it's been four days so here's part two 😁 Just wanted to say a huge thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented/reblogged the last part! It was such an amazing response, especially given it was my first time posting my writing here, so thanks for all the love you shared 🥰🥰

Heads up, this part is actually part one from Elain's pov. Initially I wanted to continue from where the last part left off in Elain's pov, but as I was writing the background, I realised I'd written too much to just skip when Az gets to the estate and cut straight into a continuation of part one, so I ended up rewriting the whole thing in her view. So there's no new elriel moments, but you'll get a lot of new stuff anyway 😅 I would've said you don't have to read this part to understand part three, but when I was rereading the later parts a few hours ago, I realised there's some stuff that alludes to things in this part, so I strongly recommend you don't skip this 😅😅

Also, wow, some of my fave paragraphs I've ever written are in this part 😁 Bonus points if you can find them; there are four I'm thinking of in particular 😉

Word count: ~ 3.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed 😊 Next part up in two or three days 😊

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part II

__

It had been a pretty uneventful day as Elain worked through her new plant textbook. Feyre and Rhysand had decided to spend the weekend away at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were away doing things she wished not to think of, and Mor was at the Winter Court.

Amren had only been round in the mornings, probably to check Elain was still alive. She'd glance round the living room, examine some of those fine crystal glasses in the display cabinet and then leave. There was no difference today, though Elain always felt Amren's scrutiny upon her even when that muted silver gaze was directed elsewhere; perusing Rhys' wine collection had become a tired ruse.

So besides preparing and taking her meals with Nuala and Cerridwen, Elain had spent her afternoon with her book, making notes and copying drawings. The twins had gone off on some errands, so she'd wandered into the garden at some point to tend to her many plants, telling them how lovely they each were. The crocuses looked particularly stunning this autumn day, their pale violet colour breathing life into the shades beneath some of the trees.

With her book, she'd identified new weeds, digging into the soil to rip some pesky ones out. Sometimes she didn't want the help of a tool; sometimes she needed to feel those roots on her bare skin.

Harvesting the carrots and beetroot was also on the agenda today, along with seeding for some spectacular displays next year. She'd been collecting the seeds from some of her summer blooms, like those soft clouds of baby's breath, saving them to replant. These she sowed directly into ground she'd prepared days before, her fingers digging into the crumbly clumps of earth.

Autumn onions she'd plant tomorrow, perhaps. Feyre always remarked on how their strong taste complimented meats well, so Elain wanted to harvest some fresh for her sister for once. It'd take a few months of waiting, but there was little else better than picking out and eating food one had grown with their bare hands and the essential ingredients of love and care.

Setting her book on the patio table, Elain surveyed the garden. It was a good day's work. Plants watered and sown, weeds uprooted, and hands sweaty and soiled, Elain was proud of what she'd achieved today. There were no distractions, nothing to take her from the one thing she always found satisfaction in.

After a long shower, she found herself back in the garden with a cup of tea and a blanket. The sunset washed the sky in a blaze of red and orange glory before it yielded to the cool tones of twilight then night. Elain sat in silence, hands wrapped around her mug. How long would it be until someone's arms were wrapped around her, until she felt the warmth her sisters finally had?

Silly, these thoughts. Immortality stretched far ahead, there would be time to develop that companionship. Months and years were but a heartbeat in the life of a High Fae. She wouldn't even notice the years pass.

Or so everybody else kept saying.

With her tea finished, she perused the book of recipes she'd borrowed from Nuala. Some recipes jumped out, ingredients for which she'd been growing for a few months now. Pumpkin pie sounded especially delightful, the gourd having almost darkened and hardened to ripe quality just a couple days ago. They should be ready for harvest tomorrow.

A chill wind sent Elain inside to prepare and have her dinner in pleasant silence. Even her mind was quiet tonight. After washing her dishes, she stood by a bay window, fingers idly tapping the windowsill.

Faelights bobbed like tiny lamps, dotted through the garden. The full moon was now high in the sky, its ghostly glow illuminating the datura flowers she'd seeded half a year ago. She pulled on her blanket and went out again for a better look at those gorgeous blooms, the petals opening only at night.

Elain couldn't be happier she'd found seeds of a triple-flowered variety. They'd grown to produce large trumpets, three layers of petals ruffled against each other. Somehow she thought of her sisters as she crouched and stared at the flowers, each layer so similar, yet fighting for space and breath as it unfurled before another. It was only when they were all fully open that they could sigh along the night breeze as one, an ethereal song of togetherness, tinged with notes of poignancy, only heard by those with the will to look deeper.

The white petals were stained with velvet violet, a true vision in her garden. While the others had given her passing compliments on the flowers, Azriel had seemed stunned the first time he saw them, citing them his favourite of all the plants Elain had grown so far. Something about their shape and contrasting colours, he'd mentioned.

She smiled fondly at the memory, where his eyes sparkled as he reached for one of the soft petals.

Her hand lashed out to grab his wrist. 'Don't touch them; the leaves and stems are highly poisonous.'

His brows rose. 'You wouldn't think that at first sight. But they're beautiful, Elain. Truly magnificent,' he said, his smooth voice so low, a voice that was night given sound. And how befitting, as even those datura flowers seemed enraptured by his presence, one shy petal finally unfurling towards him.

She beamed at him. 'They like you. Flowers like it when you talk to and compliment them - but these ones haven't given me the same reaction as they have to you. I think they really like you, Azriel.'

His answering smile was heartbreakingly tender.

A few more seconds passed before she realised she still held his wrist. She silently let go.

It was a shame she'd have to dig out the datura shrub and move it inside for the winter; it did look magnificent in the moonlight.

The sky shifted past its midnight velvet, and still Elain crouched, admiring the flowers. She shivered in the night's chill. The stars above twinkled and glistened, cold and distant as ever, yet stunning - infinitely more striking than they'd ever been when she was human. A thousand different colours sparkled in that vast expanse, the moon a phosphorescent queen in the centre of her court.

The Night Court truly lived up to its name in the wee hours of the day. Its opulence never failed to mesmerise her; the enhanced Fae eyesight was at least one thing she was grateful for from this body.

Her eyelids became heavy and she yawned. Why was she still out here? It was late into the night; she should be in bed by now. But the night was so beautiful and it was so quiet and she wanted to appreciate it all just once. Just once without the expectations of others, without having to wear that miserable smile all the time.

Of course, it didn't look miserable, which is probably why almost nobody ever bothered to look deeper into Elain. She should be used to it by now, but it still felt - wrong. That most overlooked her so long as she wore a smile. That most didn't think her capable of feeling the utter bitterness and loneliness she had once seen so plain on her sisters' faces.

And in acknowledgement of her sisters' hardships, Elain didn't fault them for not looking, for not seeing her. To see past the thick blanket of darkness in one's own mind was a trial in itself. But it had been years since the war now. And still they didn't notice.

They didn't notice that Elain was being shredded from the inside out.

It was almost laughable. But not funny enough.

No, it was not funny that people still treated Elain like a child, that people wanted to keep Elain in some weird impasse of a stage between child and adult. She'd thought finally carrying out her duty and giving her hand in marriage would show everyone that she was growing up: Elain Archeron, middle born but first married. Of course it was still on her own terms, to a man whom she'd loved. A man who'd seen her through the rubble of her family's lives. But she'd overall hoped doing what was expected of her would be enough.

Clearly not. She didn't even know who she was any more. Did she ever? Everything she'd once yearned for, gone. That fragile human life would soon be just a speck on the horizon of her past.

She sighed. Rebuilding herself was going to take a long time.

But what would she have to do for people to see her, to listen to her? Throw a rage? Fall into a drunken stupor and break a few dozen bottles?

She definitely could, but those were not her. She was Elain Archeron. And so she would wait. Patience wasn't a bad thing at all; she saw it on the shadowsinger's face all the time, that tranquility and calmness she so wished to feel inside.

Azriel. Her heart softened as he entered her mind again, and she dug her fingers into the soil, if only to occupy her fidgety hands. As sure as the chaos of her visions these days, there was a mess of butterflies related to him she wasn't willing to show. Or understand.

Elain and the spymaster? Now that was laughable. Truly laughable. He was wise and patient, while she - well, everyone already thought her a child, and though he listened like no other around her, surely even he couldn't glimpse the adult she so desperately wanted everyone to see.

No, it was foolish to entertain the idea of a relationship with him. No matter how much he saw.

No matter that he was the first to see her since Graysen.

Elain exhaled. She stifled another yawn, smoothing out the soil, then brushed her hands clean. She wrapped the blanket closer around herself and stood. Twinkling stars and velvety darkness and -

There, a knot of shadows materialising at the far edge of the garden, collecting and swirling into a larger mass before Azriel himself stepped out and sagged against a tree. His shadows whirled and obscured him, a dark fire with him burning at the core.

Elain's voice left her throat before she even thought to call him and she ran over to his figure slumped in the dimness.

She couldn't help but say his name again as she neared. 'Azriel!'

Those beautiful hands fiddled with a Siphon, but he looked even worse up close. Fatigue dragged at his body, a second weight to all the muscle and armour he already had to carry. Sweat and dirt clung to him, his hair. At least the shadows were parting, swallowing each other and misting away as they often did around her. Perhaps she should ask someday why they did that. But not today, not when his breathing was so laboured.

She raised a hand - to do what, she had no idea. She couldn't just touch him right now. 'You don't look okay.'

Something else limned his features as he huffed a light laugh and said, 'I'm fine, don't worry.' His voice was raw, so starkly different to its usual icy smoothness. It was common for him to guard his emotions, but in his state, this kind of thinking was just unhealthy. What would it take for him to be honest with her?

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she said, lowering her hand. She studied the ground, embarrassed that she'd come up to him. What could she even offer in her pathetic childlike state when he was so clearly affected by his mission right now?

His hand rose. Her heart faltered, she had to do something, and she blurted, 'Can I wash your hair, please?'

His eyes widened, his entire composure crumbling. It wasn't often that the shadowsinger looked startled, but Elain was far too shy to show that she quite liked the effect her question had on him.

'You want to wash my hair?'

His face was so exquisite, it hurt to look at it. His eyes would be even worse; it wouldn't be the first time she was rendered speechless by their kind gaze. A myriad of colours swirled in their glistening depths - gorgeous greens and brilliant browns, all so natural and rich, if only she could look at them long enough to find their matches in the garden around her. Though, his eyes were an entire spectrum of colour in their own right. How would she ever pick out each and every shade?

And if she somehow did have the courage to meet his eyes now, what would she see of herself in their reflection?

A lovesick puppy? A doe-eyed, fearful fawn?

No, she didn't want to know.

So she swallowed and focused on his hair. Perhaps this Fae eyesight was a curse, for even his hair was shockingly fascinating. Only flat black from a distance, the faelights bobbing about the trees highlighted layer upon layer of silky raven locks up close. His hair was so dark it seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Mud stained one side of his head, and it was an effort to keep her hands from brushing it away, so she said, 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

He ran a hand through his hair, clumps of dirt falling out.

'You've managed to get some on your face, too.' There were light specks of mud and blood across his face, a more noticeable patch along his cheekbone, thrown into sharper relief by the faelights and his own weariness. Was that a cut beneath the patch? And another on his temple?

She leashed her arms.

What had happened? He wore the signs of a fight, but why would he come here when he knew Elain was the only one home?

His eyes bored into her face, but she refused to meet them. He seemed to lean forward then, stumbling.

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous that he wouldn't even acknowledge he was in need. Azriel rarely stumbled. Any fatigue Elain had felt just a while ago was now burrowing down a little longer. Her voice was firm when she spoke. 'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

His brows rose, but if Elain stood there one more moment she wouldn't have the courage to do anything for him. For herself - she could take care of someone else. She could do for Azriel what she hadn't done for Feyre all those years as a human.

And for Azriel, she could tend to the male who'd provided her with comfort and safety in this world of distress and danger.

So she pulled him along, clenching her jaw and refusing to look back. Her heart hammered in her chest but she continued, hand wrapped round his armoured arm. Her hand slid down to his wrist but just as she was about to replace her grip, he grabbed her other hand and pulled her into him.

The shadows instantly began to ensconce them, dozens of those cool tendrils twining like vines. The estate loomed huge before them, and Elain gripped Azriel's hand tighter. 

'My bathroom,' she said. Beneath the low whisper of those shadows, her blood thrummed, her heart so painfully obvious against her ribs now. It would be a wonder if the spymaster wasn't aware of it. Though she did hear another flutter above, right by her ear. But as expected, the shadows made quick work of their journey and she didn't have the chance to dwell on it further.

Now out of the comfort of Azriel's hold, Elain set down her blanket and made to grab a chair from her bedroom. His dark presence was so overwhelming that she exhaled lightly as she entered the room and took the chair. She dragged it to the sink, avoiding his gaze, and pulled a towel, soap and a large jug from the cupboard by the door.

As she settled the soap and jug on the sink, she dared a glance at him. He was still clad in full armour, those black scales gleaming like obsidian over his skin, his Siphons glistening jewels across his body. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this,' she said.

He inclined his head and tapped a Siphon, those scales lashing back into each other with cruel elegance. They were a mirror of their master: cold, controlled and unyielding, forged from scintillating darkness. He was a night sky riddled with stars; light existed if only one bothered to look for it.

Azriel's great wings righted themselves as he stood straight, now looking smaller in just his black tunic and trousers. Something about him seemed vulnerable without the armour, so Elain breathed, 'It's beautiful, all of it.' The hulking armour, the classic simplicity of the tunic and trousers, and the male who wore them all.

He was just so wonderful, Azriel. An enigma that could see her own. Her heart clenched.

Azriel rustled his wings, colour blossoming on his cheeks.

Elain blinked and pulled the chair out a little. 'Please sit.' As he sunk down, she rested the towel on his shoulders, hovering her fingers above his forehead. Her body tensed and her fingers remained suspended. It was like a spark of tension flickered in the space between their skin, teasing her, tempting her, taunting her.

After all, she'd offered to wash his hair, an act that would certainly require touching. But why was she so hesitant? She'd touched him before - kissed his cheek, even. Although that had been in the heat of adrenaline, a mark of her gratitude where a simple thank you wouldn't suffice, not for risking his own life for hers.

This was - what was this?

She finally lowered her fingers through that tense spark, pushing his head back against the sink. It was exhilarating, this contact, but he lowered his wings, shifting on the seat. Elain moved into the space he gave, turning on the tap as he went still. Just as her body was taut, taut as the skin of a drum.

She checked the water. Warm. It was time to start.

Azriel was looking up at her. Something like yearning swirled in his eyes.

He looked so tired. It made her heart ache.

'You can close your eyes,' Elain whispered. And he did.

___

Feedback's welcomed; thanks for reading 😊

If anyone wants to know what the datura flowers look like, CTTO:

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 8

3rd Person POV

Later that night, (Y/n) crawls under her covers to go to sleep; Marvel lies her small head on (Y/n)'s chest.

"'Night, girl," (Y/n) murmurs, drowsily scratching behind the cat's ears.

. . .

A few hours later, Marvel lifts her head, nuzzling (Y/n)'s face to try to wake her up. She lets out a whimper, pawing (Y/n)'s face.

The girl was sweating and her neck was resting at an awkward angle. Her breath had quickened and her eyes were moving rapidly under her closed eyelids.

Marvel jumps off the bed and streaks into Hermione's room. Hermione had always been a light sleeper, so when the cat jumped onto her bed, she wakes.

Marvel meows, and Hermione's head tilts in concern.

"What's wrong, Marvel?" Hermione asks and the black-and-white feline paws at Hermione's hand and jumps off the bed, stopping at the door, then looking back at the brunette.

What a peculiar cat, Hermione thinks, throwing back the covers and following the cat across the hall to her sister's room.

Marvel streaks over and onto the bed, her green eyes wide as she tries to nudge her companion awake again.

Realization and fear dawn in Hermione's eyes and she walks across the room and switches on (Y/n)'s bedside slight before placing a hand on her sister's shoulder, shaking it roughly.

"Come on," Hermione murmurs. "You've got to wake up."

(Y/n)'s eyes flash open, and she sits up in her bed, her eyes closed, head leaning against the headboard, her hands trembling.

Hermione sits down on the edge of (Y/n)'s bed, and takes her sister's hands in her own.

(Y/n) looks up, her eyes wide with shock - and a bright silver.

Hermione looks at her sister and (Y/n) subconsciously moves over and Hermione slides under the covers, her back leaning against the other half of (Y/n)'s pillow.

(Y/n) leans against Hermione's shoulder; Hermione, used to these nightmares, remains silent.

After a few minutes, she reaches over and turns off the bedside light.

(Y/n) turns on her side, her head resting on the pillow, and Hermione does the same.

. . .

(Y/n) and Hermione don't talk about the nightmare the night before as the two go about the rest of the break leading up until Christmas.

After breakfast Christmas morning, (Y/n), Hermione, and their parents walk into the living room.

"You girls want to pass out gifts?" Mrs. Granger asks and (Y/n) and Hermione nod.

After passing out the gifts, (Y/n) settles back down at her place in front of the couch. (Y/n) pulls the wrapping paper off one from Fred, and sitting on top was a card. It said:

(Y/n), Somebody got this picture of your first Quidditch match, I thought you'd like it.

- Fred

Lifting up the card, (Y/n) smiles seeing a picture in a frame. It was a picture of Fred and George lifting her up onto their shoulders after her first Quidditch match.

(Y/n) sets the picture and card beside her before picking up a gift from Harry. She smiles when she sees a Advanced Charms book and a book on Magical Creatures.

(Y/n) looks over at Hermione as the brunette at her side opens her gift. (Y/n) had given her sister a copy of Hogwarts: A History.

"I have a copy already," Hermione says, turning to (Y/n).

"There's a charm on it," (Y/n) explains. "Whenever something important in Hogwarts' history, it get's copied down in here. Look," (Y/n) says, opening a page. It says, October 31, 1991 - Hermione Granger, (Y/n) (L/n), Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, defeated a mountain troll in a girls toilet.

Hermione stares down at the book and a smile slowly spreads across her face. "This is really cool! I love it! But that's not how that went," Hermione says.

"Ah, but it's better than what actually happened," (Y/n) argues. "That was not my best birthday."

(Y/n) grabs another gift, pulls the paper off, and finds a box of chocolate frogs from Harry, and she sets them aside, promising to have one later.

One of (Y/n)'s last gifts is a package wrapped in glossy blue paper with wolves printed on it.

(Y/n),

Happy Christmas! I'm very proud of what you have accomplished at Hogwarts in such a short amount of time.

-Love,

Uncle Remus

(Y/n) gazes down at the card, a small smile on her face. Then she sets the card at her side and looks at the contents of the box. Inside was a small stuffed wolf with a tag on it's ear that read - (Y/n)'s first stuffed animal, a gift from Uncle Remus. Under that was a new stack of photos that (Y/n) promises herself to look at later.

(Y/n) opens a package and finds a red sweater with a silver (First Initial) on it. Under the sweater was a large box of homemade fudge and a letter.

(Y/n), My sons Ron, Fred, and George have told me a lot about you. My husband, Arthur, and I wish to meet you soon. Happy Christmas! -Molly Weasley

Grinning, (Y/n) pulls the sweater over her head and the four finishing opening all their gifts, both (Y/n) and Hermione take all their things upstairs.

3rd Person POV - with Harry - A few hours earlier

On Christmas Eve, Harry goes to bed looking forward for the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he wakes early in the morning, however, the first thing he sees is a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

"Merry Christmas," says Ron sleepily as Harry scrambles out of bed and pulls on his bathrobe.

"You, too," says Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" says Ron, turning to his own pile, which is a lot bigger than Harry's.

Harry picks up the top parcel. It is wrapped in thick brown paper and and scrawled across it was to Harry, from Hagrid. Inside is a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself; Harry blows it - it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contains a note. We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note is a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," says Harry.

Ron seems fascinated by the fifty pence, "Weird!" he exclaims. "What a shape! This is money!"

"You can keep it," says Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron is. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle - so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," says Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and - oh, no," he groans, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," says Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," says Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

Harry's next present also contains candy - a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione which Harry thought was kind of funny because he had gotten (Y/n) the same thing.

Harry's next parcel was from (Y/n). Opening it, he sees a small box. Feeling curious, Harry opens the box to see a couple of photos. One was of a raven haired man with amber eyes, Harry's father, and a red haired women with emerald green eyes, his mother. The two are standing with a (M/H/C) haired women, (Y/n)'s mum; all three were smiling.

Harry looks at another picture of two kids, probably about a year old. One was a boy with raven hair and emerald eyes, the other was a girl with (H/C) and green eyes - Harry himself and (Y/n).

Then, Harry sees a piece of paper sitting in the box.

Hey Harry,

I found these pictures in the box my godfather left me and I made a few copies. I figured you'd want them.

-Love,

(Y/n)

Harry smiles and picks up the final present. He picks it up and feels it. It's very light, he thinks, and he unwraps it.

Something fluid and silvery gray goes slithering to the floor where it lies in gleaming folds and Ron gasps.

"What is it?"

Harry picks up the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It's strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," says Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is - try it on."

Harry throws the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gives a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looks down at his feet, but they are gone. He dashes to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looks back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulls the cloak over his head and his reflection vanishes completely.

"There's a note!" says Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulls off the cloak ans seizes the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.

Use it well

A very Merry Christmas to you

There is no signature; Harry stares at the note, while Ron is admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," Ron says. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," says Harry. He fells very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father? he thinks.

Before he can say - or think - of anything else, but the dormitory door is flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounds in. Harry stuffs the cloak quickly out of sight. He doesn't fell like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look — Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George are wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it,the other a G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," says Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demands. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moans halfheartedly as he pulls it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observes. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid — we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley sticks his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carries a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seizes.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."

"I — don't — want —" says Percy thickly, as the twins force the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," demands George."Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-march Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas;tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce —and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulls a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet,and is chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings follow the turkey. Percy nearly breaks his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watches Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he calls for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggles and blushes, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally leaves the table, he is laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry has a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs.Norris's Christmas dinner.

Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they return to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry breaks in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. Harry suspects he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone feels too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor Tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbs into bed is he free to think about it: the Invisibility Cloak and whoever had sent it.

Harry leans over the side of his own bed and pulls the cloak out from under it. His father's ... this had been his father's. He lets the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.He has to try it, now. He slips out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he sees only moonlight and shadows. It's a very funny feeling.Use it well.Suddenly, Harry feels wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts is open to him in this cloak. Excitement floods through him as he stands there in the dark and silence. He can go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Ron grunts in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something holds him back— his father's cloak — he felt that this time — the first time — he wants to use it alone. Harry creeps out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbs through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawks the Fat Lady. Harry says nothing. He walks quickly down the corridor.

Harry, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He sets off, drawing the Invisibility Cloak tight around him as he walked.The library is pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lights a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looks as if it was floating along in midair,and even though Harry can feel his arm supporting it, the sight gives him the creeps.

The Restricted Section is right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separates these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles. They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book has a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be. Harry had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting-looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulls it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, lets it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek splits the silence — the book is screaming! Harry snaps it shut, but the shriek goes on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbles backward and knocks over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside —stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he runs for it. He passes Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slips under Filch's outstretched arm and streaks off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.

Harry comes to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He has been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going.Perhaps because it's dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There is a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library — Restricted Section."

Harry feels the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he is, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice is getting nearer, and to his horror, it's Snape who replies, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry stands rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape come around the corner ahead. They can't see him, of course, but it is a narrow corridor and if they come much nearer, they'd knock into him - the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

Harry backs away as quickly as he can. A door stands ajar to his left. It's my only hope, Harry thinks. He squeezes through it, holding his breath, trying to to move it, and to his relief, he manages to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walk straight past, and Harry leans against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. They had been close, very close, It is a few seconds before he notices anything about the room he his hidden in.

It looks like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs are piled against the walls, and there is an upturned wastepaper basket — but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It is a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame,standing on two clawed feet. There is an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

His panic fading now that there is no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moves nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again; he steps in front of it.

He has to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirls around, his heart pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed - for he had not seen only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room is empty. Breathing very fast, he turns slowly back to the mirror.

There he is, reflected in it, white ans scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, are at least ten others. Harry looks over his shoulder - but still, no one is there. Or are they invisible, too? Is his, in fact, in a room full of invisible people and this mirrors trick is that it reflects them, invisible or not?

Harry looks in the mirror again. A woman is standing right behind his reflection is smiling at him and waving. He reaches out a hand and feels the air behind him. If she is really there, he would touch her, their reflections are so close together, but he only feels air - she and the others exist only in the mirror.

She is a very pretty woman. Dark red hair and her eyes, emerald green eyes. Harry edges closer to the to the glass. Bright green - exactly the same shape as Harry's, but then he notices that she is crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wears glasses and his hair is very untidy. It sticks up at the back, just as Harry's does.

Harry is so close to the mirror that his nose is nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispers. "Dad?"

They just look at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looks into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and sees other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man, who looks as though he as Harry's knobbly knees - he is looking at his entire family for the first time in his life.

The Potters smile and wave at Harry and he stares hungrily hack at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he is hopping to fall right through it and reach them. He has a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stands there, he doesn't know. The reflections do not fade and he looks and looks until a distant noise brings him back to his senses. He can't stay here, he has to find a way back to his bed. He tears his eyes away from his mother's face, whispers, "I'll come back," and hurries from the room.

Harry does for the next two nights and Dumbledore had found Harry the last night. Dumbledore had told Harry the purpose of the mirror, to show the deepest desire of their hearts.

Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the Invisibility Cloak stays folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wishes he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he can't He starts having nightmares. Over and over a again he dreams of his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice crackles with laughter. What Harry didn't know, was that (Y/n) was having the same dreams. Repetition from the one on Christmas Eve night.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," says Ron, when Harry tells them about these dreams.

Word Count: 3759 words

[yacoka]

the journey back

ii. echoes of the past

character(s) — tsukishima kei, matsukawa issei, hanamaki takahiro, iwaizumi hajime

pairing — tsukishima kei x reader

genre — royalty!au, reincarnation!au, soulmate!au

warning(s) — none

beta(s) — @/doughnuts-5ever

masterlist

The first month of university flies past in a blur, and it is only when Issei drags you out of your room - which you haven’t left in a while except for school, meals, and showers - to meet your high school seniors that you snap out of the haze that’s been clouding your mind.

“Iwaizumi’s leaving for California in a couple weeks, figured we’d meet him and cause a little chaos while we still can.” Issei flashes you a mischief filled grin, and you can’t help but mirror it, memories of your high school days playing your mind. Iwaizumi had taken the brunt of you, Issei’s and Makki’s shenanigans, and he even had a scar on his left elbow to prove it.

“Where are we meeting them?”

“At Iwaizumi’s house, then maybe a nearby bar.” You watch as Issei’s shoulders shake slightly, his face tilted away from you.

“No,” you groan. “Tell me you told him we were going to meet.”

At this, Issei lets out his laughter, and the sound warms you, wrapping around your cold body like a thick jacket. His chuckles are infectious, and your giggles join his, filling the street you were strolling down with your joy.

It isn’t long until you find yourself turning a corner and facing a street that’s almost like a second home to you. Three houses down from the corner, past the tree that looks like an old woman hunched over in the dark, and there was Iwaizumi’s house. The setting sun casts a gentle glow, and the swirling leaves on the ground have your smile growing wider, happiness lifting your chin a little higher, your steps a little lighter. It’s been a while since you’ve felt this way, and you cherish every moment of it.

From your peripheral, you spy a familiar head of pink creeping up the alleyway on Issei’s side, and you bite your tongue in an effort not to ruin Makki’s fun, but Issei knows your tells better than you do, the little scrunch of your lips has him whirling around immediately.

Makki freezes, his hands a fingertip away from Issei’s nose. Issei goes cross-eyed and you burst into another round of laughter, bending over at the two idiots. Your idiots.

(You fail to notice the soft smiles they send your way, and the triumphant grins they exchange with one another.)

“Makki!” You grin brightly at him, moving around Issei to hug him. “I missed you!”

He wraps his arms around you, squishing your face into his chest. “Princess! It’s been too long since you’ve graced this lowly peasant with your beautiful face!”

Pulling away from him, a small pout rests upon your lips. “Stop calling me that, I thought we agreed to leave that nickname behind in high school.”

Makki pulls a face. “Uh, no? I don’t remember making such a ridiculous promise.”

You scowl, faking a kick at him. He yelps and darts away and you give chase, yelling at him all the while. It doesn’t take long for you to reach Iwaizumi’s house like this, and Makki bangs on the door.

“Iwaizumi! Open up before I get murdered by her royal highness!”

You reach him just as the door opens, and a hard shove has him falling through the open doorway and landing at Iwaizumi’s feet. Makki groans in pain, and you seat yourself on his back, grinning brightly up at Iwaizumi’s annoyed face.

“Hey Iwa-chan!”

He merely pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes narrowing. “I just wanted one last night of peace.”

“Well, you know you’ll never get that around us.” Issei snorts from the doorway.

“I know, that’s why I’m running away to San Francisco.”

“Rude!” Issei, Makki and you echo in unison. Iwaizumi slumps, and you swear you can almost hear his mental cries for strength.

There’s a few moments of chaos as Iwaizumi tries to lift you off Makki and Issei yanking Makki by his feet and someone’s shoes flying, but you somehow make it out of Iwaizumi’s house relatively unscathed. Said owner is currently tucked under Issei’s arm in a headlock, with Makki skipping happily beside. You trail behind them, watching your boys struggle to walk properly. If only Oikawa was here, your group would have been complete.

Issei turns around, eyes bright with joy. He grins brightly at you, one arm still around Iwaizumi’s neck, the other reaching out to you.

“Coming, Princess?”

You grin at him, sliding your hand into his, like you have since you were toddlers, and squeeze it tightly.

“Stop calling me that!”

Your first assignment receives a passing grade, and the sigh that you let out is painfully audible, drawing your seat partner’s attention.

“You did well?” He asks, the first bit of conversation he’s initiated out of the customary thank yous and excuse mes he usually offers.

You blink at him with wide eyes, shock filling every vein and artery that runs through you. He was making conversation? He was talking to you? There was no way this was actually happening, not when the last three months had been filled with him turning down everyone’s offer to hang out after school or eat together during meal times. The mysterious blonde who kept to himself was now talking to you.

“So?” The irritation in his voice jerks you back from the rush of thoughts, and your cheeks heat up.

“Ye-yeah, I guess so.” Your voice is small, and you just want to shrink into a tiny ball and disappear at the unimpressed look he sends you.

(“Tsukki,” he can almost imagine Yamaguchi admonish, a hand swinging out to lightly smack him. “You said you'd be nice!”)

He glares at the ground, and there’s a moment of hesitation before he speaks up once more, this time more gently.

“Yeah, me too.” It’s awkward, the air between you two filled with uncertainty. All you want to do is run away from it and go back home, back to familiarity where Issei was probably cleaning out the fridge once more. But there’s a voice that whispers that he’s trying, and he’s just as lost as you are. So you reach a trembling hand out, a silent offer to exchange papers.

His tensed shoulders sag, and wordlessly, you swap papers. You hadn’t planned on saying anything until you saw the big red mark on his paper.

“You got an A? Dude, that’s amazing!”

“It’s nothing,” he waves a hand dismissively, though you notice the light coating of pink across his pale cheeks.

“It’s not nothing, you did well, you should be proud of yourself.” You frown at your own paper in his grasp. “I would do anything to be able to do this well.”

“I can tutor you- that is, if you want?”

Your head whips up so fast it gives you whiplash. Tsukishima has his head turned away from you, though that does little to hide the blush that deepens with every second passing. It’s almost endearing, this bashfulness of his. It’s certainly more emotion than you’ve seen in the past few months as his seat partner.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The relieved smile that breaks out from him is enough to quell the pit of uncertainty bubbling in your stomach, and you settle back into your seat and wait for the teacher to start the class.

“Hey!” You raise a hand and wave at Tsukishima. “Over here.”

He jerks his head in recognition and makes his way over, weaving between the tables and chairs that separate you two. It takes him three near accidents and a slight trip over an outstretched leg, but he reaches your table and sets his bag down.

“Hey.” He nods, slipping his headphones down to his neck.

You smile at him awkwardly, though it wasn’t nearly as bad as it used to be. Several study sessions had passed, and the tension eases with each one as you learn to navigate around each other. That didn’t mean you knew how to react to his remarks all the time - some of them were especially aggravating and had you shrinking away from him.

“Are you going to order anything, or are you going to keep staring at me?”

You start, blinking at him in surprise. “I wasn’t staring at you, I was just- uhh, stoning.”

He snorts, a slight smirk slipping onto his face. “Sure, if that’s what you want to go with. Now go order. I want an iced mocha and a strawberry shortcake.”

It’s your turn to smirk as you register his order, and it’s years of growing up with assholes for friends that have the following words slipping out. “The salty bean pole likes sweet stuff? How uncharacteristic of him!”

Tsukishima’s smirk falls into a scowl, and he tosses a napkin at your grinning face. “Shut up and get me my food.”

“Alright, strawberry shortcake, I’m going.” Giggles erupt from you, even as you stand in line for the food.

It was a rather adorable fact - you never thought someone like him would enjoy such sweet things. Storing this knowledge for future use, you rattle off both your orders and when the cashier asks for your name, you shoot them a wink and whisper something else instead.

The red scrawl of ‘shortcake’ on the iced mocha has Tsukishima’s glare intensifying, a dark blush staining his cheeks as he splutters. It’s worth the absolute hell he puts you through later on during the study session.

“There is no way that happened!” You laugh, one hand covering your mouth to stifle the noise as the other smacks Tsukishima’s arm lightly. He no longer flinches away from your touch, nor bristles angrily when you come close to him.

“It did, unfortunately.” Tsukishima grumbles, glaring down at the papers spread across the table between you. “He turned up to the training camp and stayed all the way through as a ball boy.”

“You have to admit, it takes some guts to pull that off,” you chuckle, wiping the beginnings of tears away.

“Or a lot of stupidity and thick skin.” He mutters under his breath, pushing his glasses up slightly. But for all the complaining he does about his highschool friends, you still spot the smile hidden in the upturned corner of his lips, his eyes slightly brighter.

The conversation dies down into a comfortable silence that’s occasionally broken by the scratch of a pen on paper, or the shuffle of clothes as someone shifts around. You’re so focused on scribbling down the answers that you don’t notice the humming until it grows loud enough to catch your attention.

“I thought you said this song was a terrible song,” you remark, continuing to write even as you listen to his humming. It stops abruptly, and you glance up at him. “What? Don’t stop, I don’t mind it.”

“How do you know that song?” His voice is accusing, and the stare he shoots you is reminiscent of the guarded ones he used to give everyone before you became friends. Your brows furrow and the realization sinks in.

“How do you know that song?”

His mouth opens and closes, a bewildered expression forming.

“I don’t know. It’s just a song that’s always been in my head I guess.”

There’s a tangible tension in the air, thick and filled with a strange familiarity that feels out of place. You catch his gaze, and you can almost hear the tune of a half-formed song in your mind. It lingers with an achingly familiar scent of something sweet, something soft, something that settles a restlessness you hadn’t known existed.

“What a strange coincidence,” you say softly, unwillingly to snap the tension. But it does anyway, and Tsukishima leans away from you, an awkward laugh falling from him.

“It must be an old song we might have heard when we were younger,” he waves dismissively, shoving more papers to you. “Here, you got a couple of the questions wrong.”

You frown, but take the papers from him and return to your work, though you could still feel his burning gaze on you, brown eyes filled with an unnerving emotion you couldn’t quite place.