#i let them do my spark plugs bc i knew they were on their way out

[tchaikovsgay]

i cant believe the mechanics tried to get me to pay $35 for an alignment check at my oil change when my tread ware is perfectly even, ive had no complaints about steering drift, and its not part of the standard maintenance schedule for my car at this mileage point. i told him i KNOW my tread is wearing evenly because i keep meticulous track of the treat on my Michelin crossclimate 2s because they were such an expensive investment and i heard his jaw hit the floor as he stammered the "oh haha yeah no youre probably fine without it" after REALLY trying to sell it to me.

[sugas-sweetheart]

hi sofia!! i’m so excited for your halloween event hehe!! can i request kirishima for masquerade ball and “please tell me that was you!” maybe mutual pining? and a drabble pls!! thank you 🥺💖💖💖

Ruby Red || Kirishima Eijirou

A/N: YES THIS IS FROM HALLOWNEEN AND THIS ENDED UP BEING LIKE 1.8K WORDS WHAT IT WAS MEANT TO BE A DRABBLE- I apologise PROFUSELY at how long this took me though and bye its not even that good i just procrastinated hgdsjkfgj😭 thank you sm @deephasoceanmagic for helping me finish this djsjdskdj this got kinda hard to write after I had left it bc I lacked inspiration and here we are and I’m sorry its not the best work I’ve done asshdjsjdjs although the Denki and Sero thing is one of my favourite things my head has made up.

Requested prompts: 1. masquerade ball + 3. “please tell me that’s you!”

Pairing: Kirishima x Fem!reader

The yearly UA Halloween party had arrived once again; it would be your final one at the school and to make it special the third years were allowed to organise it. One of the girls in 3A had brought up the idea of a masquerade ball to add to the mystery, which was instantly taken very well by the committee organising it.

The class didn’t exactly have dates, it was more of a “dance with whoever, whenever” agreement. Although, people in the class could clearly predict who was going to be dancing with who, and that included you and a certain fake, red head.

The months prior to Halloween rolled around quickly and the third years were allowed a day off from their usual lessons to relax and get ready. The 3A dorms had been split, the girls getting ready on the third floor, while the boys were kept downstairs.

Excitement bubbled in the whole class, the whole year even. It was a night for them to act like teenagers instead of soon-to-be pro heroes and that was greatly appreciated.

The chattering and squealing from the girls was almost never ending as they complimented and helped each other with makeup, hair and dresses. It was a joyous little bubble that they were in and nothing could break down their morale.

If the girls didn’t praise each other constantly when taking selfies or group photos on a normal day, then it was an eternal compliment battle when getting dressed up formally together. Mina broke the chatter with a question directed towards the whole room. 

“So, who does everyone want to dance with?” Although she directed it at the whole room, she sent you a knowing glance and a shoulder nudge. The teasing you had received from a portion of your class this week was almost never ending, and each time you were bombarded with these inquiries, the spiky haired male sent you a small and unknowing smile from the other side of the classroom. 

Meanwhile, the boys were attempting to look their best, and were holding a similar conversation with each other. But it was Halloween night, and that meant some sort of trickery needed to happen for them, and it was basically in the form of dying their hair as to not be recognisable with their normal styles and contact lenses. Most of them opted for a black spray to temporarily colour their locks for the night and match their dark shirts, suits and masks. (Bakugou, a little begrudgingly, let Kirishima and Kaminari colour his hair) 

“Kiri, you ready to dance with her?” similar to what Mina did, Sero gave him a nudge and he received a wink from the tape and electric quirk holders who were busy spraying his hair back to its natural colour. 

Bakugou took this moment to scoff and join in as he fixed his orange tie, “Took his sweet time to do something if he does.” 

“You’ll twirl her, and dip her, and sweep her right off her feet” The comedic duo that were Hanta and Denki, threw their spray cans onto the bed next to them, joined hands and started re-enacting the scene they created. 

“And end with a kiss!” Sero had dipped Kaminari and they leaned in making childish kissing noises before collapsing onto the bed in a fit of laughter. 

Kirishima was brought out his thoughts with a blush across his features, even if his mask covered it, as he recalled antics from earlier. Fairy lights hung from the ceiling, emitting a soft, warm light and candelabras flickered along the tables. Mini pumpkins and cobwebs were scattered across each table’s centrepiece, but the only thing on his mind was the small handwritten note addressed to him that he had found at his table seat. 

“Meet me on the roof at 8:30, I hope to see you there x”

No one seemed to be looking at him and no one but Bakugou was near him, he had no idea who would have left it, but he hoped it was you. Taking a look at the clock he realised it was 8:15pm and well, there’s no harm in being early is there? 

All of 3A’s eyes - bar one pair - discreetly followed him to the door that would allow him access up to the roof. The class gave each other a quick look before going back to chatting and joking. 

Upon nearing the 3A girls table, you spotted a note next to your name card. The excitable pink haired girl next to you stepped forward, plucking the note from the table and read it with wide eyes under her sparkling mask.

“Oh my god, maybe it’s from him!” The excitement she felt for you was clear in her voice.

“What does it even say?” She immediately pushed the note in front of you in response to your question.

Messy handwriting had scrawled “meet me on the roof at 8:30, I hope to see you there x” along the card. Glancing at the clock you realised there were only five minutes until you were meant to meet this mystery person on the roof.

“So, are you going to meet them?”

“Mina, of course I am. If I die you’ll know where I last was”

As she dragged you towards the door, she claimed that you would be fine and that it was probably just some admirer.

The acid quirk holder observed you as you started making your way up the stairs. Giving the members of 3A knowing glances, she made her way back over to the group of girls you had originally split from.

A few meddling friends - aka Mina, Denki, Sero and an unwilling Bakugou - had organised the whole ordeal happening before you; this was obviously unknown by you and the boy awaiting on the rooftop.

Upon reaching the door that led outside, you paused to take a breath. You hoped Kirishima was waiting for you on the other side of the door. If it wasn’t him, then you’d just have to be polite as you didn’t really want to lead anyone on after this night. 

On the other side of the door, Kirishima stood waiting and staring at the scenery around him. The rooftop was lit by fairy lights and the moonlight that shone down; a small table placed a few feet away held drinks, a speaker plugged into an iPod - that looked a lot like Jirou’s - that played music softly. A small vibration from his back pocket brought him from his thoughts and he went to check the phone notification. It was a simple text from Mina that stated “Ask her to dance when she comes up”. It was then, that he knew his friends had something to do with this whole setup and an admirer did not in fact ask him to come up themselves. 

A heavy click pulled his gaze away from the phone screen and over to the door that was opening a few metres away.  His view was flooded with red material as a second click followed, signifying the door had closed and it was now time for him to speak and not make a fool of himself. 

“Uh, would you like to dance with me?” stammered the boy before you. 

Luckily for Kiri, his mask covered the rouge that was coming to his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck in anticipation of a response. A light nod was given from you in return, stepping forward to grab his other hand, which was outstretched for you. While the secrets were intriguing, the poor attempt to hide his identity and your need to find out if he was truly behind the mask was overpowering, and before you knew it, you had blurted out a statement that would have saddened the boy in front of you had your deduction not been correct. 

“Kirishima, please tell me that’s you”

He let go of your hand to slowly peel off his dark mask and reveal a flushed, but hopeful, face at the thought of you wanting it to be him.

“I guess the disguise didn't do much then?” he looked down towards his mask as he spoke, avoiding eye contact with you now that his face was exposed. You pulled away your own mask before speaking up again. 

“Not really, but a hair colour change can only do so much when you have ruby red eyes” 

He gave a soft chuckle at the defining feature that you had pointed out and his confidence increased with the knowledge of it being you that was forced up here by his friends. 

As a slower, steady song played from the speaker he outstretched his hand once again to ask for a dance and this time wasn’t interrupted by an inquiry from you. Taking his hand and placing your other on his shoulder, he moved his other hand to rest on your back and you both tried to find your way dancing together for the first time. 

The next hour was mostly elegant, apart from the toes that were stepped on when dancing, and filled with laughter at small jokes told to ease the initial awkwardness of being set up. He was easy to speak to, he was gentle and caring, and as the night continued you ended up sitting together, staring at the luminescent specks that were scattered throughout the sky. 

Halloween was coming to a close and the moments you shared that night would be cherished  for a long while. Being the gentleman that Eijirou was, he offered to walk you back to your dorm room, despite his being a level below yours. You sneaked down and out together before everyone started leaving to avoid the hustle and bustle of it all. With your right arm hooked in his left, a small, tired smile was plastered across your face the whole walk back and while you were sad about the night ending, this sparked the relationship you would hopefully soon share with the red head. 

As your door came into view, the both of you slowed your steps. There was a slight awkward tone in the air, were you to just say goodbye and leave? Should you kiss? Was he going to say something? 

The few seconds of silence that felt like hours was broken when the both of you opened your mouths to speak and promptly shut them with a laugh to let the other go first. 

He looked at you expectedly, waiting for you to speak first.

“Well, thanks to our friends, this night was a lot better than I anticipated so thank you.” a shark tooth filled smile gleamed with glittering eyes, because he was filled with joy at the thought of you enjoying the night with him. 

“I really enjoyed my night with you, so i'm glad you think the same! I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

“Mhm!” and in those final seconds looking into his eyes, your mind had made a decision. You pressed a kiss to his cheek before pushing the door open and once inside leaning your back against it, just knowing the heat that was rushing to your cheeks.

Kirishima stood stunned and wide eyed outside of your closed door for a few moments and softly touched the spot on his cheek that you had kissed. Upon hearing footsteps and chatter from fellow classmates, he decided to make his way back to his own room where he slept well with thoughts of what he would say to you tomorrow. 

Taglist (open): @justamultifandomfan16 @shoutamajiki @meliorist-midoriya @goopyartiste @yee-harr @bizzoldmann-08 @katsushimaa @hannahalanib1 @boosyboo9206 @derpeedoo @mystic-helena @spookykiri @vhskenma

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXLIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I knew ppl were going to drop my fic in this book bc I made things complicated but I don’t regret the plot— did it still made me sad? yes it sure did -Danny

Words: 5,256

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘No Control’ -by Dylan Reynolds

Chapter Five: The New Routine.

Dumbledore knocked on the door three times and Mrs Weasley's voice was quick to answer.

"Who's there? Declare yourself!"

"It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry. Mel and Erick are with us."

"Harry, dear!" Mrs Weasley opened the door at once, letting them in. "Mel! Erick! Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, you said not to expect you before morning!"

"We were lucky, Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected. The children's doing, of course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora!"

"Hello, Professor... Wotcher, kids."

"Hi, Tonks."

Tonks was looking remarkably grim, Mel looked around the kitchen.

"Where's my mum?"

"I told her to go to bed," Mrs Weasley said sweetly, "it's almost midnight, the baby kept her up last night and she needed to sleep."

"I'd better be off," Tonks stood up. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly."

"Please don't leave on my account," said Dumbledore, "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour."

"No, no, I need to get going," She replied. "'Night —"

"Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye are coming — ?"

"My uncle's coming?" Mel asked with excitement.

"No, really, Molly... thanks anyway..." Tonks said tensely. "Good night, everyone."

"Well, I shall see you at Hogwarts," Dumbledore told them. "Take care of yourself. Molly, your servant."

He and Tonks disapparated, Erick spoke up.

"You have a lovely house, Mrs Weasley."

"Oh dear, well, we do make an effort on making it cosy," Mrs Weasley smiled.  "You're like Ron, all of you, you look as though you've had Stretching Jinxes put on you. I swear Ron's grown four inches since I last bought him school robes. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry.

"A bit," Erick agreed.

Mel sat down between them, she was quite pleased about Mrs Weasley's comment on her growth, even though hers was less noticeable than the boys' who now were five and seven inches taller than her.

Crookshanks and Grey quickly made their way to them. Grey didn't like Erick very much, though Mel didn't know why. Crookshanks, on the other hand, was a huge fan.

"So Hermione's here?" Harry asked as he watched the ginger cat ruin the impeccable set of clothes Erick was wearing.

"Oh yes, she arrived the day before yesterday. Everyone's in bed, of course, we didn't expect you for hours. Here you are — Bread, dears?"

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley."

"So you persuaded Horace Slughorn to take the job?"

"It wasn't hard," Mel smiled. "Professor Slughorn was eager to get to know us better."

"He taught Arthur and me. He was at Hogwarts for ages, started around the same time as Dumbledore, I think. Did you like him?"

Harry and Erick shrugged, Mel kept her attention on her plate.

"I know what you mean... Of course he can be charming when he wants to be, but Arthur's never liked him much. The Ministry's littered with Slughorn's old favorites, he was always good at giving leg ups, but he never had much time for Arthur — didn't seem to think he was enough of a highflier. Well, that just shows you, even Slughorn makes mistakes. I don't know whether Ron's told you in any of his letters — it's only just happened — but Arthur's been promoted!"

Harry made a funny noise, taken by surprise. Erick did a sort of delighted hum and Mel stopped eating, staring at her attentively.

"That's great!" Harry said.

"You are sweet... Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has set up several new offices in response to the present situation, and Arthur's heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. It's a big job, he's got ten people reporting to him now!"

"Sounds important," Erick smiled.

"What exactly — ?"

"Well, you see, in all the panic about You-Know-Who, odd things have been cropping up for sale everywhere, things that are supposed to guard against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. You can imagine the kind of thing — so-called protective potions that are really gravy with a bit of bubotuber pus added, or instructions for defensive jinxes that actually make your ears fall off..."

Mrs Weasley looked beyond proud as she told them all about her husband's new job. Mel was happy for him, she couldn't think of a man who deserved a promotion more than Mr Weasley.

"...So you see, it's a very important job, and I tell him it's just silly to miss dealing with spark plugs and toasters and all the rest of that Muggle rubbish."

"Well, the heart wants what it wants," Mel chuckled, she was unaware of the way both boys looked at her.

"Is Mr Weasley still at work?" Harry questioned.

"Yes, he is. As a matter of fact, he's a tiny bit late... He said he'd be back around midnight..."

Mel felt something awful crawling up her chest when she noticed all the tiny hands on the clock were now pointing at 'Mortal peril'.

"It's been like that for a while now," Mrs Weasley commented, "ever since You-Know-Who came back into the open. I suppose everybody's in mortal danger now... I don't think it can be just our family... but I don't know anyone else who's got a clock like this, so I can't check. Oh!"

Mr Weasley's was now currently pointing at 'travelling.'

"He's coming!" She got up, a second later there was a knock on the door. "Arthur, is that you?"

"Yes. But I would say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!"

"Oh, honestly..."

"Molly!"

"All right, all right... What is your dearest ambition?"

"To find out how airplanes stay up."

Mel and Harry shared a look of amusement, she heard Erick mumbling 'How do they stay up?' Mrs Weasley tried to open the door but her husband kept it shut.

"Molly! I've got to ask you your question first!"

"Arthur, really, this is just silly..."

"What do you like me to call you when we're alone together?"

The group of teenagers froze.

"Mollywobbles," Mrs Weasley whispered to the tiny crack in the door.

Mel choked on the soup, Harry had to hide his face entirely to control his laughing fit after watching her almost die, Erick quickly patted her back.

"Correct," Mr Weasley said brightly. "Now you can let me in."

"I still don't see why we have to go through that every time you come home!" Mrs Weasley complained as the man walked in. "I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the answer out of you before impersonating you!"

"I know, dear, but it's Ministry procedure, and I have to set an example. Something smells good — onion soup? Kids! We didn't expect you until morning!"

They all greeted Mr Weasley, Mel finally able to breathe and Harry able to speak without cracking up.

"Thanks, Molly," He said when the woman set a plate for him. "It's been a tough night. Some idiot's started selling Metamorph-Medals. Just sling them around your neck and you'll be able to change your appearance at will. A hundred thousand disguises, all for ten Galleons!"

"And what really happens when you put them on?"

"Mostly you just turn a fairly unpleasant orange color, but a couple of people have also sprouted tentaclelike warts all over their bodies. As if St. Mungo's didn't have enough to do already!"

"It sounds like the sort of thing Fred and George would find funny," said Mrs Weasley with doubt. "Are you sure — ?"

"Of course I am! The boys wouldn't do anything like that now, not when people are desperate for protection!"

"So is that why you're late, Metamorph-Medals?"

"No, we got wind of a nasty backfiring jinx down in Elephant and Castle, but luckily the Magical Law Enforcement Squad had sorted it out by the time we got there..."

Harry yawned beside her, Mel was starting to feel weary herself after days of sleeping in the backseat of a car.

"Bed," said Mrs Weasley. "I've got Fred and George's room all ready for you, boys. Mel, you're sharing Ginny's bedroom but I don't want you to wake the girls up. Is it okay if you sleep with Erick and Harry tonight?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Mel yawned, too sleepy to care.

"Where are the twins?" Harry asked.

"Oh, they're in Diagon Alley, sleeping in the little flat over their joke shop as they're so busy," said Mrs Weasley, and Mel could tell there was a hint of pride in her voice. "I must say, I didn't approve at first, but they do seem to have a bit of a flair for business! Come on, dears, your trunks are already up there."

"'Night, Mr Weasley," said Harry.

"Thank you for letting us stay," Erick added.

"Have a goodnight!" Mel ended.

"G'night," said Mr Weasley.

Mel had been in the twins' room a couple of times through the years, it was startling when she walked in and couldn't recognize it. The smell of fireworks was still hanging in the air and there was a few boxes of their personal items laying around, but almost nothing left from their essence in the room, it made her feel homesick.

There were only two beds since they weren't expected until the next morning. Mrs Weasley quickly made a third bed appear with a flick of her wand, it was smaller than the other two, mostly blankets and cushions piled together. She apologized profusely, but Mel didn't mind, she would've slept on the floor considering how exhausted she was.

The boys insisted that she took one of their beds but Mel refused, when she came back from changing Erick was already tucked in her pile of blankets. Harry was grinning at the way his feet were hanging over the edge.

The following morning she was awoken by the door slamming open and a pair of feet stomping into the room. She hid her face between the pillows, Harry's mattress squeaked as he sat up, and fabric rustled as Erick pushed down his blankets.

"Wuzzgoinon?" Harry asked sleepily.

"We didn't know you were here already!" There was a soft thud coming from Harry's bed after Ron sat down on it.

"Ron, don't hit him!" Hermione sat on Mel's bed.

"Dear Merlin," She groaned, hiding under the covers. "I'm going to murder you two..."

"All right?" Ron asked.

"Never been better," said Harry, sounding a bit more awake. "You?"

"Not bad."

"I knew there was no way I'd have a quiet morning here," Erick grumbled. "Hi, 'Mione..."

"Hi!" She said brightly, then shook one of Mel's legs. "Wake up! I want to hear all you did during your mission!"

"When did you get here? Mum's only just told us!" Ron said.

"About one o'clock this morning," Harry replied, Mel turned around and squinted, trying to get used to the sunlight.

"Were the Muggles all right? Did they treat you okay?"

"Same as usual... they didn't talk to me much, but I like it better that way. How're you, Hermione?"

"Oh, I'm fine."

"What's the time? Have we missed breakfast?" Harry said.

"Don't worry about that, Mum's bringing you up a tray; she reckons you look underfed," said Ron.

"Well, he is," Mel replied, finally sitting up. "You should've seen my mum — almost forced the food down his throat once..."

Harry threw a pillow at her, but he missed by a considerable distance.

"So, what's been going on?" Ron asked eagerly.

"Nothing much, I've just been stuck at my aunt and uncle's, haven't I?"

"And we just had a road trip around some towns," Erick said, getting out of his covers only to sit down on Harry's bed.

"Come off it!" said Ron. "You've been off with Dumbledore!"

"It wasn't that exciting. He just wanted us to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name's Horace Slughorn."

"Oh... We thought —" Hermione hushed him, Ron was quick to correct his mistake. "— we thought it'd be something like that."

"You did?" Harry grinned.

"Yeah... yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't we? So, er, what's he like?"

"He looks a bit like a walrus, and he used to be Head of Slytherin," Harry shrugged, then he glanced back at their friend and raised a brow. "Something wrong, Hermione?"

The girl gave a start, straightening in her place.

"No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like he'll be a good teacher?"

"Well, he's got a sharp mind no doubt," Erick yawned, laying on the mattress.

"He can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?" added Harry, softly kicking Erick to move him away from his legs.

"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge," Ginny walked in sulking. "Hi, guys."

"What's up with you?" Ron questioned.

"It's her, she's driving me mad."

"What's she done now?" asked Hermione.

"It's the way she talks to me — you'd think I was about three!"

"I know, she's so full of herself..."

"You better not be talking about my mum," Mel joked.

"Can't you two lay off her for five seconds?" Ron scoffed.

"Oh, that's right, defend her! We all know you can't get enough of her," Ginny rolled her eyes.

Harry and Mel shared a confused look, and just when he was about to ask the door opened again. The boy pulled up his covers so fast that Erick fell to the floor.

"Oh," Mel said quietly, staring up at Fleur Delacour.

"Children," she said brightly. "Eet 'as been too long!"

Mrs Weasley walked in right after her, looking upset.

"There was no need to bring up the tray, I was just about to do it myself!"

"Eet was no trouble," Fleur left the tray floating between their beds and kissed her and Harry on both cheeks. Erick got up with a scowl, he shook Fleur's hand, not letting her touch him any further. "I 'ave been longing to see you. You remember my seester, Gabrielle? She never stops talking about 'Arry Potter. She will be delighted to see you again."

"Oh... is she here too?" Harry asked.

"No, no, silly boy," Fleur laughed, "I mean next summer, when we — but do you not know?"

"We hadn't got around to telling him yet," Mrs Weasley said grumpily.

"Bill and I are going to be married!"

"Oh," said Harry, looking back at Mel begging her to help him. "Wow. Er — congratulations!"

"That's brilliant," Mel was unsure of how to react, none of the other women in the room looked happy.

"Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very 'ard, and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my Eenglish, so he brought me 'ere for a few days to get to know 'is family properly. I was so pleased to 'ear you would be coming — zere isn't much to do 'ere, unless you like cooking and chickens! Well — enjoy your breakfast!"

She turned around and left the room with a joyous air, then Emily walked in, holding her son.

"Hi kids," She smiled.

Mel jumped out of bed and gave her mother a big hug. She took her baby brother and kissed him all over his small face. Mrs Weasley muttered something Mel could not hear, Ginny inched closer and started to play with Reggie's little fingers.

"Mum hates her," the girl told her, clearly talking about Fleur.

"I do not hate her! I just think they've hurried into this engagement, that's all!"

"Well, it's not like we all have time to spare, do we?" Emily asked carefully, brushing the hair away from Mel's forehead.

"They've known each other a year," said Ron crossly.

"Well, that's not very long! I know why it's happened, of course. It's all this uncertainty with You-Know-Who coming back, people think they might be dead tomorrow, so they're rushing all sorts of decisions they'd normally take time over. It was the same last time he was powerful, people eloping left, right, and center—"

"Including you and Dad," Ginny smirked.

"Yes, well, your father and I were made for each other, what was the point in waiting? Whereas Bill and Fleur... well... what have they really got in common? He's a hard-working, down-to-earth sort of person, whereas she's —"

"A cow," Ginny replied. "But Bill's not that down-to-earth. He's a Curse-Breaker, isn't he, he likes a bit of adventure, a bit of glamour... I expect that's why he's gone for Phlegm."

"That's exactly what people used to say about me and Matthew," Emily raised a brow. "Now they tell me we were the perfect couple! You see, time's all it takes to change one's opinion, I think we shouldn't talk about relationships that aren't ours."

"I think she's lovely," Mel shrugged, softly kissing her brother's cheek. "You guys are being too harsh on her. I mean, Ginny, you're beautiful —"

"I'm sorry, Mel, I have a boyfriend," She joked.

"— But that doesn't mean you're silly, does it?" Mel sat down on her bed. "Have you forgotten how nice she was to Ron after he helped her sister?"

Mrs Weasley left looking rather tired, Emily kissed Mel, Harry and Erick on the cheek before leaving, leaving Leon Regulus in the room.

"Don't you get used to her if she's staying in the same house?" Harry chuckled, staring at the way Ron was struggling to breathe.

"Well, you do... but if she jumps out at you unexpectedly, like then..."

"It's pathetic," said Hermione, without even asking she took Regulus out of Mel's hold, ignoring the girl's protests.

"I feel your pain, Ronnie, don't listen to them," Mel sighed, leaning back on the bed frame.

"You don't really want her around forever?" Ginny insisted. "Well, Mum's going to put a stop to it if she can, I bet you anything."

"She shouldn't!" Mel replied. "What would you feel if you were deeply in love with someone and everyone tried to keep you away from them? You're own family!"

"How's she going to manage that, anyway?" asked Harry.

"She keeps trying to get Tonks round for dinner. I think she's hoping Bill will fall for Tonks instead. I hope he does, I'd much rather have her in the family."

"Yeah, that'll work," Ron snorted. "Listen, no bloke in his right mind's going to fancy Tonks when Fleur's around. I mean, Tonks is okay-looking when she isn't doing stupid things to her hair and her nose, but —"

"She's a damn sight nicer than Phlegm,'' Ginny made a face of disgust.

"And she's more intelligent, she's an Auror!" said Hermione, Reggie cried a bit and Ginny took it away from Hermione.

"Fleur's not stupid, she was good enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament," Harry argued.

"Not you as well!" Hermione scowled.

"I suppose you like the way Phlegm says ' 'Arry,' do you?" Ginny huffed.

"No," said Harry, blushing a bit, "I was just saying, Phlegm — I mean, Fleur —"

"Oh, please," Mel snorted. "You're just upset because Bill is your favourite brother, Ginny — you're scared he'll stop hanging out here once he marries Fleur. Hermione, I know you're lying, you're not angry because she isn't smart enough for your standards."

Hermione blushed a deep shade of red.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Sure you don't," She grinned. "But you know she's not any of those things, I know you do. I mean, so what if she's confident, as long as she loves Bill like he deserves, right? Don't you want him to be happy?"

Ginny looked at Reggie for a long time, then she sighed heavily.

"I would like her to respect our way of handling the house, that's all..."

"That's understandable," Mel nodded. "But she's the one having to get used to the Weasleys, and if I may give my opinion, you guys are as peculiar as any French girl."

Ginny's face showed a small grin.

"In my opinion," Erick spoke casually, grabbing a toast from the tray. "Fleur's too ostentatious — but she knows how to use her charm, which means she's got a brain. Joseph told me she was a great conversationalist—"

"Can't you talk like a normal bloke?" Ron frowned. "Do you like her, yes or no?"

"I'm saying she's nice."

"Nice?" The redheaded boy asked in bewilderment.

"She's not my type," The older boy rolled his eyes.

"What's your type, then?" Ron demanded.

Erick threw a quick glance at Mel before replying.

"Friendly."

"Okay, maybe Mel's right," Ginny continued, Reggie started to get restless and she swayed him a bit from side to side. "But I still get along with Tonks better, at least she's a laugh..."

"Well, she can still come and hang out, but you can't force love."

"She hasn't been much of a laugh lately though," Ron pointed out. "Every time I've seen her she's looked more like Moaning Myrtle."

"That's not fair," Hermione frowned. "She still hasn't got over what happened... you know... I mean, he was her cousin!"

Harry quickly looked down and busied himself with a spoonful of eggs, Mel grabbed a cup of tea and drank half of it in one large sip.

"Tonks and Sirius barely knew each other! Sirius was in Azkaban half her life and before that their families never met —"

"That's not the point — She thinks it was her fault he died!"

"How does she work that one out?" Harry asked, his mouth half-full.

"Well, she was fighting Bellatrix Lestrange, wasn't she? I think she feels that if only she had finished her off, Bellatrix couldn't have killed Sirius."

Mel tried to remember, there was a huge part of that night she couldn't recall.

"That's stupid," said Ron.

"It's survivor's guilt. I know Lupin's tried to talk her round, but she's still really down. She's actually having trouble with her Metamorphosing!"

"With her — ?"

"She can't change her appearance like she used to. I think her powers must have been affected by shock, or something."

"I didn't know that could happen," said Harry.

"Nor did I, but I suppose if you're really depressed..."

Mel suddenly looked down at her hands and gulped. She hadn't tried to do any kind of magic ever since she'd come back from the Ministry, now a new fear was rising above everything else, the possibility of not being able to be as good as before because of her anguish.

"Ginny," Mrs Weasley walked in again, "come downstairs and help me with the lunch."

"I'm talking to this lot!" Ginny exclaimed, her attention quickly leaving Mel's brother.

"Now!"

"She only wants me there so she doesn't have to be alone with Fleur! Emily's too tired all the time, mum doesn't let her do anything..." The girl got up to leave the room, but Mel stopped her.

"Hey, give that baby back!" She demanded. "I was holding him first!"

Ron stood up and took the baby, claiming no one ever allowed him to play with him. Ginny turned around swiftly, mocking the way Fleur would usually move, once she got to the door she looked over her shoulder one last time before leaving.

"You lot had better come down quickly too!"

Harry, Mel and Erick ate silently while Hermione examined some boxes, Ron was now playing with Reg.

"What's this?" Hermione held up a small telescope.

"Dunno, but if Fred and George've left it here, it's probably not ready for the joke shop yet, so be careful."

"Your mum said the shop's going well," Harry mentioned. "Said Fred and George have got a real flair for business."

"That's an understatement. They're raking in the Galleons! I can't wait to see the place, we haven't been to Diagon Alley yet, because Mum says Dad's got to be there for extra security and he's been really busy at work, but it sounds excellent."

"And what about Percy? Is he talking to your mum and dad again?"

"Nope."

"What a git," Erick muttered, drinking his tea while watching Hermione examine the telescope.

"But he knows your dad was right all along now about Voldemort being back —"

"Dumbledore says people find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right," said Hermione. "I heard him telling your mum, Ron."

"Sounds like the sort of mental thing Dumbledore would say," said Ron.

Mel didn't try to contradict him this time.

"He's going to be giving me private lessons this year," Harry said casually. "Mel already finished hers and he'll have time to teach me."

Hermione gasped, Erick merely looked up from his food.

"You kept that quiet!" Ron exclaimed, Mel's brother slipping from his hold without him noticing.

"I only just remembered. He told me last night in your broom shed."

"Blimey... private lessons with Dumbledore! And he said you're ready to go, Mel? I wonder why he's—?"

"Careful with Lee before you drop him flat on the floor!" Mel scowled. "I see why no one lets you hold him..."

"I don't know exactly why he's going to be giving me lessons, but I think it must be because of the prophecy," Harry continued to speak, eyes fixed on his food. "You know, the one they were trying to steal at the Ministry..."

Erick pulled out his wand and with a quick movement, his plate started to follow him around the room. He took Leon Regulus and mumbled something about the baby needing a nap and Ginny needing help back in the kitchen. Mel wished she could've left with him.

"Nobody knows what it said, though," said Hermione once the Slytherin was gone. "Mel broke it."

"Although the Prophet says —" Ron started.

"Shh!" Hermione interrupted.

"The Prophet's got it right," Harry forced himself to look up. "That glass ball Mel destroyed wasn't the only record of the prophecy. I heard the whole thing in Dumbledore's office, he was the one the prophecy was made to, so he could tell me. From what it said... it looks like I'm the one who's got to finish off Voldemort... At least, it said neither of us could live while the other survives."

She wished she could've spent at least one day without thinking about the prophecy, but Harry had to live knowing that he'd have to face Voldemort, so she couldn't complain.

BANG!

Hermione vanished behind a cloud of dark smoke.

"Hermione!" shouted the three of them.

The girl stood up, coughing.

"I squeezed it and it — it punched me!"

"Don't worry," said Ron biting his lip so he wouldn't laugh, "Mum'll fix that, she's good at healing minor injuries —"

"Oh well, never mind that now!" said Hermione, pushing it aside. "Harry, oh, Harry... We wondered, after we got back from the Ministry... Obviously, we didn't want to say anything to you, but from what Lucius Malfoy said about the prophecy, how it was about you and Voldemort, well, we thought it might be something like this... Oh, Harry... Are you scared?"

"Not as much as I was," Harry shrugged. "When I first heard it, I was... but now, it seems as though I always knew I'd have to face him in the end..."

"When we heard Dumbledore was collecting you in person, we thought he might be telling you something or showing you something to do with the prophecy. And we were kind of right, weren't we? He wouldn't be giving you lessons if he thought you were a goner, wouldn't waste his time — he must think you've got a chance!"

"Of course he does!" Mel got up, starting to pick up the pieces of the tray that had smashed when the boys ran to help Hermione. "Harry's a great wizard, we just need to teach him how to fight..."

Her friends looked at her with pity, they must've been thinking of her lifeline connection with Harry and how it could affect her, but Mel couldn't look afraid or else they wouldn't believe her words.

"Guys, we'll get through this..." Mel looked down a the tiny scars on her palm, rubbing them gently.

"That's true," said Hermione. "I wonder what he'll teach you, Harry? Really advanced defensive magic, probably... powerful countercurses... anti-jinxes... probably the same things he taught to Mel. And evasive enchantments generally— Well, at least you know one lesson you'll be having this year, that's one more than Ron and me. I wonder when our O.W.L. results will come?"

"Can't be long now, it's been a month," said Ron.

"Hang on, I think Dumbledore said our O.W.L. results would be arriving today!"

"Yeah, that's true!" Mel admitted, leaving the broken plates on the desk.

"Today? Today? But why didn't you — oh my God — you should have said —" Hermione squeaked. "I'm going to see whether any owls have come..."

Ron and Hermione left the room quickly, Harry and her were left alone, but this felt a thousand times less awkward than a year before.

"Thank you," Harry said, helping her fold the blankets.

"I didn't do anything. You know they're scared, even if they don't show it..."

"I'm thanking you because it must be hard for you as well, not to show it," He tilted his head. "Usually, you're an open book..."

"I used to be," She corrected. "My feelings are just mine, Harry, and no one else needs to know about them."

He frowned.

"Still, you know it's better not to hold things in, right?"

Mel stared at him.

"Look at you, teaching me about how to handle my emotions!"

The boy let out a chuckle and reached to hold her hand.

"It's going to be okay, Mellow."

She melted at the name, it'd been a long time since he'd called her that. She looked down again at her scarred hand, and that stirred her into talking. An idea started to take form in her mind.

"What if there's a chance you don't have to be the only chosen one?"

Harry blinked.

"What?"

"What if I am your backup?"

"H-How would that even..?"

"Think about it," Mel started. "I was there when he tried to kill you, and that's when our connection was created — it grows stronger when you inch closer to death... What if the reason we can feel each other's pain, is because it warns us about the incoming danger? What if the reason we're connected it's because I'm destined to take your place if you die?"

"But — but the prophecy said it was a boy —"

"Prophecies can change, you're not obliged to copy them exactly as they're told! Even Dumbledore thought I could be the child of the prophecy! What if, in a way, we both are?"

"It doesn't mean anything, Mel. I chose to be —"

"Who says I can't choose to help you?" She lifted her right hand. "I marked myself with the prophecy, see? If we do this together we'll have a real advantage. We even promised it back in the ministry, didn't we? If you die I take your place, if I die —"

"I make sure is not in vain," Harry had finally made up his mind. "D'you think Dumbledore knows? Do you think that's why he wants us to decide for ourselves what we'll do with our lifeline?"

"I have no idea," Mel responded sincerely. "But if we're doing this, we need to set the rules now."

Harry thought about it, then he grabbed her hands and squeezed them lightly.

"Let's talk."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha​​​​ @vampiregirl1797​​​​ @siriuslysirius1107​​​​ @stardusthigh​​​​ @mikariell95​​​​ @vernon-dursley​​​​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl​​​​ @tomshollandz​​​​ ​​ @reverse-hxlland​​​​ @hamiltonwc​​​​ @omiwashere​​​​ @t-rexs-world​​​​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs​​​​ @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee​​​​ @thelastpyle​​​ @cedricisnotdead​​​ @aconfusedslytherin​

[mego42]

hi! a song inside the halls of the dark is an absolute masterpiece of plotting and pacing (and prob my fave fic I’ve read for the show so far), so for the ask a writer meme, I’d love to hear about your planning process(es). the idea of even plotting out something like that, let alone actually finishing it, just breaks my brain lol. do you do a lot of outlining? how much does the outcome end up looking like the ideas that sparked it?

adsfghgsj okay well first off, thank you! that is unspeakably flattering and i don’t know how to cope! my weird robot emotions are misfiring! but also, thank you for this question bc this is the kind of nerd shit i LIVE FOR and up until, idk, 5? 6? months ago my answer would’ve more or less been ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but sometime in between now and then i leveled up how much of a nerd i am.

okay so, the short answer to your (first) question is yes, i do a lot of outlining though the scale of outline varies based on the complexity of the story. in song’s case, how i outline actually evolved significantly over the course of writing it (see that level up) and if i were to outline it today, it would look very different from what i originally started with.

the short answer to your second question is in song’s case, the original idea was a v short, almost fluffy stuck in a hotel room for a night one shot i daydreamed up while listening to a halsey song (is there somewhere, if you were wondering). obvs what it turned into was uh, v different.

digging into how i outline is going to get long, excessively nerdy and borderline terrifying so i’m hiding the rest of this under the cut, read at your own risk.

I preface everything here with a couple of reminders:

1. i am a crazy person who straight up does not know how to have hobbies like a normal person

2. i am actively trying to push myself and grow as a writer including developing new skills and training myself to practice certain habits bc at some point I would like to push myself out of the nest and try my hand at original fiction one day with a vague goal of maybe seeing if i could get it published. idk if i’ll ever actually do that BUT in the meantime, i do stuff like the nightmare that follows to myself

initial outline / what happens next list

okay so the most basic of my outlines (and how i originally outlined song) are p much just lists of what happens next. i do them as bullet lists bc my brain finds them less intimidating and i just start with one and then ask myself what happens next. sometimes the bullets are v vague, sometimes they get so specific i end up writing what becomes dialogue, i try not to think too hard about it, i just keep asking what happens next.

it’s really specifically about what happens next, not asking myself what i want to happen in the story, bc next implies the bullet before informs the one after, so you end up with an overall picture of what you want with a base level of causality built in. it also gives you room to surprise yourself (i think literally every what happens next outline i’ve done has had me going oh, okaaaaaay at some point).

sometimes, this is all you need. for trade my heart for honey, i started and stopped here bc at the end of the day, the skeleton for that fic is super basic: beth and rio attempt to play pool without tripping over their horrendous sexual tension. they fail. the end.

for your monster looks like mine, i did a version of the what happens next list, but i brought in some of my tricks from the pace structuring method i’ve been honing for the multi-chapter i’m currently planning. instead of mapping tentpole beats by story pace, i mapped tentpole beats for what points i wanted beth and rio to be scoring against each other and then mapped out the lead-up and fallout to connect the two and also what they were doing to each other physically at the same time so i could see how it all played together so the conversation supported the smut and vice versa. it was a TOTALLY normal approach to writing pwp. not over the top at all. 

song’s original outline was basically a SUPER long what happens next list and if i could go back in time i would slap myself upside the head like bitch you have no idea what you’re getting into and you are WAY TOO COCKY ABOUT IT, but it’s okay i learned.

the spreadsheet method

somewhere around when i was in the middle of i want to say ch 9 of song, @pynkhues posted about her outlining process including a super awesome spreadsheet she uses (i cannot for the life of me find the original post, forgive me but know that it was hers) and i immediately jacked a version of it to use as my own and oh my god it changed my whole life. 

iirc hers was a bit more in depth but since i was sort of baby-stepping into it, i stripped it down into the following and did a sheet for each of the remaining chapters (well, ch 10 and ch 11, ch 11 ended up getting wildly out of control so i split it in two and mushed the epilogue i’d been planning onto the end of it as a closing breakout scene:

plot

character

it’s a lot of repetition, tbh BUT once i started using it, i found the repetition was incredibly clarifying and by making myself take the time to go through each column and go through the same stuff over and over, it honed in on the strongest, most relevant bits of what i was planning and helped me see patterns and connections i maybe hadn’t been thinking of on the onset.

when i outlined swear i used this method and added a layer to my chapter overviews where i track the lies and corresponding truths worked into the chapter narratives (bc that’s a key theme of the story), and color-coded the beats that corresponded to the main plot vs individual character arcs vs foreshadowing so i’d have an at a glance visual reference to make sure nothing was getting lost and all of the characters (even minor ones) had stuff happening to them and didn’t just feel like cardboard cutouts coming in and out of the story as i needed them

pace structuring

these are all fine and dandy but one thing they’re missing is pacing! for song’s pacing, i will be real with you, i v much went a lot with my gut. i’ve spent most of my life consuming and paying a lot of attention to stories. i’m fascinated with how they come together and literally cannot shut off the part of my brain that likes to pick them apart to examine the pieces to see how they all fit together. as such, it’s left me with a p instinctive grasp for how a story should feel when it’s working which is fantastic when it is, but really useless when it isn’t bc i struggle to identify where and why sometimes so i can fix it.

for the buffyverse, once i started to realize (with no small amount of horror) the scope of what i wanted to write, i realized p quick i needed some kind of tool kit to help me figure out the arc and pacing bc this was going to be a lot closer to trying to plot a whole novel from the ground up (which is great bc one of the things i want to practice is pacing and plotting out novels from the ground up, hahaha)

i’ve been working with a two main docs (and neither of them are spreadsheets, yet, bc one thing the spreadsheet method taught me it’s that while i find them very soothing, my brain works in bullet lists so i’m starting with bullets and then i’m gonna strain it through a spreadsheet):

1. Thoughts:

just a doc where I word vomit out anything I’m thinking, I don’t worry about keeping it organized, I just throw whatever I’m thinking in there so it’s memorialized and I can sort through it later.

2. Act Timelines / Scene Breakdowns:

basically, i have a basic three-act story structure with tentpole story beats broken out by general ballpark percentages of how far into the story/act they should occur for the pacing to feel right. i use that as the framework i run my plot and character beats through and do it in a couple of passes:

high level: i go through and break out what’s happening in the story for each tentpole beat (what the specific story and plot focus is)

by character: i go through and fill in (at least) one sub-bullet beneath each plot tentpole beat with what’s happening with each main character in their individual subplot, how they got there, what their general feelings and mindset is, if they’re having any revelations, etc (one thing i fucked up with song is not making sure i had stuff going on for all of the characters, the plot was super focused on beth and while i generally knew what rio was doing and why, ruby and annie more or less floated in and out of the story at whim and i hate that, so i’m trying to be better about it going forward)

by relationship: now i go in and fill in a layer of bullllets with how the plot and character beats are shaping relationships and how they’re progressing through each tentpole beat

at this point i’ve got a pretty fleshed out outline hitting on plot, character and relationship development at least in broad, general terms. i can look at it like a map and see how characters are growing and changing throughout the story and look for areas where the plot is pushing the characters vs the other way around and places where it seems weak or poorly connected/supported and i tinker with that for awhile until i feel like it’s in good shape.

next step is applying the what happens next approach to the scene by scene breakdowns. i’m trying an experiment with this one where instead of breaking the fic into chapters first, i’m breaking it into scenes and working out the beats of them so they incorporate all of my outlined stuff and then i’m gonna go back and see where the chapter breaks look like they fall.

I’m like, 75% of the way through my scene breakdown for this particular fic and once I’m done with that, I’m going to take everything and plug it into the spreadsheet I worked with for the last couple of chapters of song and highlight/color code like I did for swear to make sure my chapter breakdowns align with everything I’m trying to do and I’m tracking all of my themes and details and setting things up to pay them off later.

so, you know, an absolutely normal amount of planning for a hobby i do entirely for funsies in my largely nonexistent spare time. 

(sorry this was i am assuming WAAY MORE INFORMATION than you ever wanted or needed to know but once i started i couldn’t stop)

(and seriously, thank you, am truly verklempt that you love song like that 💖)

bts fic writing q’s IF YOU DARE hahaha

[chucklegigglechortlesnort]

“Levi’s”

👉👈 i wrote this a while ago and... it’s been sitting in my drafts for a few weeks bc i’m not really sure about it but i mean it’s something right???

this concept popped into my brain after i bought a levi’s hoodie and connected the dots a little later

i hope it’s enjoyable

warnings: minor angst to fluff

Shoving open the door to your room, you flopped onto your bed with a dramatic huff.

You had spent the day in the human world, having accompanied Lucifer and Diavolo on business and the days events had left you completely drained.

Well, almost completely.

You still had enough left in you to spend some time with Levi, who you had promised earlier that day that you’d at least start a new anime that he’d been excited to watch.

You were exhausted and running on fumes but you couldn’t bring yourself to cancel on him last minute. He was just so excited about it and you didn’t want to ruin that by going back on your plans.

You pushed yourself up with a huff, rummaging through the bag of belongings you had managed to convince Diavolo and Lucifer (more so Lucifer - Diavolo was actually curious to see where you lived and therefore easy to convince) to let you snag from your apartment before you returned home to the Devildom.

You quickly shed your daytime wear for an over-sized hoodie and a pair of pajama shorts. Vastly more comfortable, you stepped in front of the mirror - more out of habit than anything else - to check your appearance. The hoodie you had chosen had a large “Levi’s” logo displayed on the front and you snickered to yourself. It was by pure coincidence that you had it, but you couldn’t help but snag it when you saw it hanging in your closet. It was too perfect to pass up and you figured you’d wear it as a joke, even if it wasn’t that funny.

You completed the look with a pair of fuzzy socks before leaving for his room.

When you reached his room, you knocked three times followed by two taps and a jiggle of the doorknob.

“What’s the pass-code?”

“No matter how deep the night -”

“- It always turns to day eventually.” 

There was a click and the doorway opened a crack. Levi peers out, looking around before yanking you into his room. You roll your eyes at his theatrics but allow a smile to creep onto your face as he shuts the door behind you.

“Ready to get this party started?” You asked.

Immediately his face lit up in excitement. It was cute how enthusiastic he was about every new anime or game he started and you couldn’t help but share it. He launched into rambling about how many rave reviews it had gotten, and how it was animated by one of his favorite studios and written by one of his favorite manga authors.

A giggle escaped you on accident and Levi glanced up to defend himself, but any retort quickly died in his throat as soon as his gaze landed on your hoodie. 

A flush rose to his cheeks as he stared at the Levi’s logo splayed across your chest. 

“Levi? Hello? You-”

“Y-your shirt- it- why does it have my name on it?”

You glance down, having momentarily forgotten about your little joke. You let out another giggle, much to Levi’s dismay. 

“Oh, yeah! It’s a popular brand up in the human world and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Funny right?”

Funny.

Levi guessed one would consider that an amusing coincidence, if they weren’t him. 

Or if they didn’t have a massive, ugly crush on you.

Or if the fact that you were basically wearing an item of clothing that declared you as his didn’t nearly send them into a cardiac arrest.

Then yeah he guessed that maybe ‘funny’ would be a way to describe this particular coincidence.

“Y-yeah. Sure.”

The oddly curt response caught you slightly off guard as he turned to stiffly stride over to the gigantic bean bag stationed in front of the obscenely large flat screen that sat opposite of it. You were slow to trail after him, hesitant after the rather cold exchange.

You plopped yourself down beside him on the beanbag moving in to cuddle up to his side, as usual (it had taken him a while to get used to this in the beginning, but luckily he had warmed up to the affection and was often reluctant to let go at the end of the night). However, he not-so-subtly scooted away from you, much to your disappointment.

Had your joke really been that bad?

You knew he may not have found it that funny but... still. You had at least expected a ‘dumb normie’ comment or something.

The terribly familiar concoction of anxiety and shame crept up on you as you settled into your seat, grabbing a pillow from nearby and hugging it to your chest to try and muffle the feeling. You crushed the cushion against you and wrapped your arms around your knees as Levi grabbed the remote and started the anime.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t bring yourself to pay attention, your brain was too occupied with picking apart and replaying the scenario. The soft flashing images only encouraged this hypnotizing lull of negative thoughts and none of your efforts to snap yourself out of it seemed to work. Somewhere in your mind you knew you should stop and that it was ridiculous to get so worked up about such a small issue - if you could even call it that - but the mindset to put that into action eluded you.

At some point your gaze had drifted over to Levi, who was seemingly fine, as well as completely engrossed in the show.

It must’ve been just you then. 

Levi must’ve felt your gaze burning into the side of his skull, because his own eyes flicked over to meet yours and his face went crimson.

“What are you staring at?”

The bite in his voice only managed to strike you deeper.

You felt a tightness in your throat and a stinging sensation beginning to rise behind your eyes.

Nonononono this wasn’t happening. Not over something this freaking stupid.

‘It’s not a big deal.’ You told yourself. ‘You’re reading way too much into it, just stop you idiot.’

However, much to your further disappointment in yourself, you couldn’t manage to hold back your tears.

You tightened your hold on the pillow and buried your face into it in order to muffle your sniffles. The patheticness of your situation did absolutely nothing to improve your mood and all you wanted to do was leave and go to bed so you could cry yourself to sleep like a loser and forget about it in the morning. And probably never where this hoodie again.

This stupid hoodie.

You could feel your sinuses plugging up with mucus and the urge to sniffle came once again, except this time you forgot to hide it with your pillow.

Levi’s gaze fell on you once again at the sound. How were you crying already? You were only on episode three and nothing major happened- it was a slice of life for hell’s sake. It took him a second to register that your eyes weren’t even on the screen and that they were glued to somewhere on the floor and as soon as he saw the welled up tears in your eyes, he panicked.

“_-_____? W-what the hell are you crying for?!”

That’s it. You were absolutely mortified.

“I-it’s nothing, I’m fine, Leviathan. I’m probably overtired. I think I’m just gonna call it a night, okay?” Your voice came out rushed and cracked as you uttered ‘fine’ but you didn’t waste any time dwelling on it as you slid off the bean bag.

Oh. Oh no. You used his full name. You only ever used his full name when you were upset. With him. Oh god oh fuck what had he done.

You were already halfway across the room when he had finally worked up the nerve to chase after you. 

“Wait! _____, I-”

“-Was my joke really that bad?”

Levi froze as you turned around to face him, eyes glossed over with tears and directed anywhere but back at him.

“Huh? No!”

“Well then are you mad at me because we had to postpone tonight a bit because I went to the human world? I thought you were fine with that.”

“No that’s not-”

“Then, why?” Your eyes finally met his, but Levi wasn’t sure if he was relieved or if he just felt worse.

The avatar of envy’s mouth snapped shut and he thought over his next words carefully.

“Why... what?”

Nice. Good one Levi.

Your shoulders dropped and you stepped away.

“...Never mind. Goodnight, Leviathan.”

Levi flinched at the use of his full name, watching as you turned toward the door and crossed the rest of the room.

You placed your hand on the door knob, gently turning it with fatigue that showed in your every move. 

The way your shoulders sagged and the hecitance in your step caused a heavy dread to settle in Levi’s gut and in less than a second he had crossed the remainder of the room, wrapping his arms around you from behind and tugging you into his chest. His face settled in the junction of your neck and shoulder and you had to keep yourself from shuddering when his breath hit your skin.

“Levi-”

“I’m sorry.”

It was barely a whisper but you had heard it perfectly clear.

“I’m sorry for being mean, and for not laughing at your joke, because it was really c-cute and you’re really cute and- um I guess I just didn’t know how to react but that’s because I’m just a stupid shut in and I don’t want you to think that I’m an icky creep or something even though I’m probably not doing that great a job of convincing you other wise and I’m sorry about that too- “

“-Levi.”

“Y-yeah?”

“You’re not just a stupid, creepy shut-in, okay? And I definitely don’t think you are.”

His grip loosens around your shoulders and you wiggle around in his grasp to face him. Your eyes are glazed over and tired, but despite that he can see sparks of something akin to adoration shining in them.

“You don’t?”

“Mm mm.” You hum, shaking your head.

It’s at this point that Levi realizes that your faces are inches apart, and the entirety of your body is pressed flush against his. His face is immediately overtaken with red and he slowly eases away from you. His large hand wraps around your smaller one and he grazes his thumb back and forth over your palm.

“D-do you... want to stay the night?”

You nod softly, a smile gracing your features once again, much to Levi’s relief.

“Yeah, sure.”

He’s quick to tug you back over to the plush bean back in front of the TV, figuring it’s a bit more spacious than his bathtub. He plops down and pulls you into his lap before he can chicken out, wrapping his arms around your waist so you’re pressed against his chest once again.

There are a few beats of silence before Levi’s voice rings softly in your ears, mumbling groggily as he drifts off to sleep.

“...You should wear that hoodie again.”

“...Hm... mabe I will.”

. . .

“Oh, and Levi?”

“Hm.”

“Apology accepted.”

The next thing Levi feels is a pair of lips ghost across his neck, but not a second later you’re out like a light.

You were certainly, with out a doubt, going to be the death of him.

[libermachinae]

Games, Jokes, and Other Things That Get You in Trouble with Your RWB (Rival With Benefits)

Also on AO3! Tags: Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Ratchet/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Ratchet (Transformers), Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Alcohol, nebulous time and place, drinking game gone serious, ending up in a feelings talk bc your communication sucks Wordcount: 1416

---

“Okay, okay, my turn,” Rodimus hiccupped as he lowered the half-empty cube, catching it on the edge of the table and splattering the floor with Carpacian Blue.

“No, you’re done,” Ratchet said, taking the cube and setting it aside. He was just overcharged enough that he had to think the movements through, keeping an optic on his hand until he was sure there was no more danger of him making a bigger mess.

“Oh, come on, Ratch,” Rodimus said, leaning forward to try to grab his cube back. “Won’t even drink this time. Just like playing with you.”

Ratchet dropped his arm between Rodimus’ hand and the last drops of engex.

“You’re going to be miserable in the morning,” he warned.

“Aw, you gonna take care of me like a good sparkmate?”

“I’m hardly going to be doing any better.”

Rodimus got his hand on Ratchet’s elbow and tried to pull them closer together. Ratchet, though, refused to budge, so Rodimus had to content himself with scooting over and leaning heavily against his shoulder.

“You’ve barely had anything,” he said. “You’re too good at these games.”

“I’ve been playing a lot longer than you, and with much more competitive bots. You know how many petroleum shots Thunderclash can take if you tell him it’s a competition?” That earned him an amused snort and he smirked in response, adjusting himself so he could wrap an arm around Rodimus’ waist. “Regardless, I’m more worried about recharge. You volunteered to cover during Megatron’s psyche eval, remember?”

“Yeah…? Oh frag, what time is—” Rodimus groaned as he checked his chronometer. “This shift’s gonna suck.”

“Come here.” Ratchet took Rodimus’ hand and popped open his carpal access panel with practiced ease. “I’ll get the pain patch set up now. Run it when you come online, if you remember it’s there.”

“You’ll remind me, won’t you?”

“If you wake me up before gamma, I will personally oversee your processor melted down in the nearest smelter.” He plugged himself in and started to upload the patch, letting a few spare processing threads leak through to make it clear he was kidding.

“Ratchet!” Rodimus yelped anyway, rolling onto his back so he could stare up pathetically while dragging Ratchet’s hand across his chest. It might have been tempting, were they not both overcharged and exhausted. “You only love me for my processor?”

“There are some valuable materials in there,” Ratchet said, tapping Rodimus’ helm with one finger. “The amount of *** alone could trade for a decent crate of high grade.” He felt his smile grow gentle as the hand he had connected to Rodimus spread across his chest. “Your spark, though… I’m afraid I couldn’t get much for that. I’d just keep it for myself, I think.”

“Aw, you do care.”

“Yep.” The upload finished, so Ratchet unplugged himself and respooled his cable. “Finally, you’re starting to get it.”

“You hid it, for a while,” Rodimus said. He must have been overcharged, if he was willing to talk so freely about his insecurities. Normally it took some vulnerability on Ratchet’s part and a good cry before he was willing to divulge whatever was bothering him.

“No, I’ve never hid how I felt about you,” he said, moving his hand up to Rodimus’ neck and stroking the cables. “Was just wrong for a while.”

“You can’t be wrong about a feeling.”

“I was.” Ratchet saw the way Rodimus’ optics started to flicker and knew where this was headed. Rather than risk falling into recharge at the table, he got his hands under Rodimus and heaved him up, pushing until the other bot had no choice but to continue sitting up under his own power.

“Ratchet,” he whined.

“Berth,” he replied, in a tone that brooked no argument. Rodimus recognized it and relented, getting his pedes under him as he wobbled upward. Ratchet rose to his side, wrapping an arm under his shoulders to steady him, and counted down the steps to the berth.

Four steps. Three steps. Two.

“Let’s play one more round,” he said.

“Ratch—? Why?” Rodimus looked at him, his nose brushing Ratchet’s jaw.

“Because I want to,” he said as Rodimus leaned over the berth and crawled on, rolling over so he could watch Ratchet sit down with a degree more dignity. He did not settle yet, reaching out to cup Rodimus’ helm and stroke a thumb across his finial, his cheek. Their optics met, Rodimus’ wide and brighter than they had been moments before.

“Okay,” he said. “Shoot.”

“Do you consider me your sparkmate?” Ratchet asked.

Rodimus’ lips pulled into something thin and uncomfortable.

“Do you?” he asked.

“That’s not how the game works.”

“Yeah, but—but this isn’t fun.”

Ratchet hummed.

“It was just supposed to be fun,” he said, thumb still but hand in place.

“Wait—okay, wait hold up,” Rodimus said, leveraging himself back upright. His momentum was too much for his engex-ridden processor and he almost pitched himself forward before he caught himself. “Frag, I’m too sloshed for this. Give me a…” He blinked, and when his optics came back online, the glow was steadier, his wavering posture tensing into something more controlled. He made to grab Ratchet’s hovering hand, hesitated, then went for it anyway.

“Do you want to stop? Is it not fun anymore?” he asked.

“I want to make sure we’re on the same page,” Ratchet said. He was resisting the urge to pull Rodimus to his side again. “What you’re talking about is a relationship, Rodimus. A commitment.”

“What I’m talking about?” Rodimus repeated, his expression pinching into confusion. “I was just making a joke, Ratch. Didn’t expect you to think anything of it.”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you don’t—okay, no, you do care,” he admitted, before they could get into another argument over whether Rodimus was worth being cared for. Ratchet always inevitably won that one. “But not like that. You said yourself, it’s a commitment, and there’s no reason for you to want something like that with me.”

“Don’t you think that’s my decision to make?” Ratchet asked. His hand squeezed around Rodimus’. “Is that what you want?”

Rodimus hesitated. He bit his lip while his optics traveled up to the ceiling before slamming back down onto Ratchet.

“Yeah,” he said, voice quiet and tight.

“Okay,” Ratchet said with a nod. Now he did pull Rodimus closer, freeing his hand so he could wrap around the lithe bot in a hug. He pressed a kiss to Rodimus’ temple. “We can try it.”

“We can?” Rodimus asked.

“I’d like to,” Ratchet said, his spark warming as nervous hands came up to return the embrace. “I do love you. Whether that translates to a workable partnership is something we can only learn through experience.” Like all new relationships, it was a risk, but one that Rodimus made worthwhile.

“Love you too, Ratch,” Rodimus said as he tucked his face against Ratchet’s neck, pressing what might have been a kiss against the delicate cables. “I’m scared of hurting you, and I feel like that’s way more likely if you go and start trusting me like this.”

“I already trust you,” Ratchet said. “We do need to get better at communicating, though.”

“I guess we could start by talking through exactly what we mean by sparkmates,” Rodimus said. He pulled back and Ratchet finally saw his shy, hopeful smile. “In the morning. After you wake me up to remind me about the pain patch.”

“I already told you, I’m not—“

“Aw, but Ratch,” Rodimus said, flopping backward onto the berth with his arms outstretched in invitation. “Isn’t that what a good gentlemech would do for his poor, hungover sparkmate?”

Ratchet pulled himself the rest of the way onto the berth and settled in Rodimus’ arms, grumbling the whole way.

“Don’t expect to make a habit of this,” he warned.

“Course,” Rodimus said as the lights in the room dimmed and he snuggled close, the warmth of his engine bleeding out through his plating.

Ratchet pulled their frames close together and sighed. His spark had been thrumming with nervous energy, but it settled as he felt Rodimus’ frame relax against his own. They fit well together, he thought. Not perfectly, not at first, but close enough that with a bit of thought they had made it work.

It was hardly a perfect analogy for a relationship, but he took it as a comfort as he settled into recharge, Rodimus at his side.

[lumiereandcogsworth]

Okay this one is going to emotionally wreck you..... ARE YOU READY? I'M NOT SURE IF YOU ARE. What was Adam's childhood like? 🥺 (and what normal childhood things did Adam miss out on that Belle experienced?)

the audacity.... emily i have so much to say.....

i’ll put the headcanons under the cut but first i will plug my young adam fics because if you want the good stuff that’s where to go:

fading memories is your dream (18.8k) - takes place when adam’s 15, post his mother’s death and struggling with abuse from his father. A Lot happens but it’s the bones of all my adam backstory.

too young to know, too old to admit (2k) - takes place when adam is 19, post both of his parents’ deaths. he’s just a young, broken master of the castle. pretty much just before the curse takes place.

what did you sing to that lonely child? (1k) - adam’s like 10/11 here. it’s only been a year or two after his mother died and he’s still adjusting to this terrible reality. but also sweet cuz lumiere & plumette taking care of him <3

the spark of friendship (859 words) adam is four years old!!! a baby!! all the others are very tragic and sad but this one is incredibly precious and it’s with his mama!!!! soft and sweet :)

(hey also trigger warning for domestic/child abuse and depression and drinking. for the fics and the following list!)

to begin. lonely and bad childhood!!!!!!!!

adam’s father really didn’t care about adam or adam’s mother. he married her to earn his crown and he had adam to secure an heir to said crown. they were never anything more to him

and he treated them like shit!!! but more on that later. (and by later i mean in fic cuz i really don’t need to go into detail. we can all imagine.)

adam got his father’s bone structure, same build, but he got his mother’s blonde hair and blue eyes

when adam was a little boy his mom was his JOY! and he was hers <3

she’d take him on walks in the garden!!! and they’d look at flowers and butterflies and birds and little animals that came by. she loved the outdoors.

she showed him books. she wasn’t all that good at reading, her brother’s had taught her a little, but adam had an expensive education and she knew the value books held. she showed him how he could use them to run away and sink himself into so many other worlds beyond the tortured one they shared.

he was taught by a tutor when he was little and then went to really fancy boarding school until he was sixteen. after that (his father died) and adam really stopped giving a shit and no one could tell him what to do anymore. but he still read so much. so so much! he educated himself on his own terms but he’d never call it that. it was always just escaping to him.

boarding school was, not great. he never really made any friends cuz he lacked the social skills and also just really thought he was better than everyone else- he had a terrible vanity complex but we know this.

he didn’t go until after his mother died (just happened to be at the age, not specifically bc she died. she passed in late march and he was already set to go in september) and he really pushed everyone away. just kept his head down and read the books and did his work and practically bit anyone’s head off if they tried to talk to him.

he got in fights sometimes, but mainly the other boys just ignored him because they kinda thought he was a freak on account of his temper and how stand-offish he was. obviously his mother’s died and he has an abusive father but, middle schoolers are the worst.

but back to being with his mother!!! she sang lullabies to him to help him fall asleep. for a while he couldn’t remember any of them when he was older, he got really pissed at himself for it. but then one night when his own little daughter couldn’t sleep— it came back to him.

some nights when she was particularly down or sad (for reasons unbeknownst to adam at the time) instead of lullabies she’d tell adam all about her life back home. her parents and brothers and animals and the joy and love that could exist in a home

when adam’s parents were in something of a screaming match (usually about adam, his mother trying to protect him) lumiere would distract him with games and card tricks and piggy back rides throughout the castle

plumette was also very protective of him and she and lumiere would hang out with him when his mother was otherwise occupied

mrs. potts would always have tea and sweet buns and pastries ready for him at a moments notice if he was feeling down. cogsworth always kept an eye out for him

on stormy nights adam would run down the hall to his mother’s room and crawl into her bed and sleep with her. both of their rooms where in the west wing but still a floor below the master chambers where his father slept

adam’s mother got him a horse before he could even ride. she just wanted him to become friends with the horse!! they named the horse etienne and when adam’s father was away his mother would get on etienne and seat adam in front of her on the saddle and take him riding

the first time madame de garderobe and maestro cadenza performed at a ball, he was young and entirely enchanted. he thought they were so incredible. and every time they came he always wanted them to play special pieces before the balls would begin just so he could hear them more.

when his mother got sick he would go visit her every day after breakfast and then come by all throughout the day (when his father would allow him) and show her flowers and tell her all the things he saw outside or the story he’d read that day

the day his mother died. a huge part of him broke. entirely fell away. his world shattered around him.

mrs. potts entirely mothered him (in secret) and always took care of his wounds and made sure he ate food and went to bed on time (also making amazing pastries for him!!!)

eventually he got to the point where he’d been taught to push everyone away. shove down emotions. he lived in a loveless world and he had learned to embrace it

the servants couldn’t help, they tried but he shut them out. the abuse from his father only increased as he got older. his father expected more out of him with each passing year, despite never really showing him the right way. it was too late for that now anyway

he still reads to escape. he has to.

after his father dies he spirals down into the chaos that you see in the prologue of the film. he descends and drowns in his tragedy and self-loathing

he buys all the fanciest clothes and invites the richest people and sleeps with only the most glamorous women

he drinks constantly. he has to numb his reality because it’s just absolute shit in the broad, sober daylight. and he knows it. so he drinks. and tries to forget

he shakes at the very thought of his mother. so he drinks more. he drinks when he thinks about his father too, but just because he becomes so filled with anger and a lifetime of built up frustration and disgust with himself that he never once successfully stood up to his father

he blames himself for the abuse. blames himself for not protecting his mother. blames himself for letting his life go to shit and for letting lumiere and plumette and cogsworth and mrs. potts and everyone completely and utterly down.

he always remembers his mother in the cherry blossom trees outside. they were her favorites and adam resents them in a way because they still bloom even without her. but he always thinks of her anyway. he thinks of her every day.

[brief-candle]

ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴠᴏᴡ - Kyoujurou Rengoku & Muzan Kibutsuji

just........ two more..............

tbh i don’t even know what i’m doing on this site bc none of my posts appear in the tags so i’m just hardcore plugging on my quotev because i gotta do what i gotta do y’know?

series: demon slayer/ kimetsu no yaiba

notes: little to no yandere (mayhaps if you squint you can see some?), major character death, male reader, angst, stuff that probably makes 0 sense, angst, the muzan x reader you have to squint for, most likely ooc, angst.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

The rain didn't seem as if it were ever going to stop that day. Tiny droplets littered the streets endlessly, falling from a sea of murky grey which hung in the sky longer than anyone would have liked. It only seemed to enhance the bitter cold and dubious darkness of that alley.

I remember that alley well, with crumbling cobbled floors and walls with jagged cracks that ran up them like crevasses. Fading greys that mixed with the sky, painting the world in monochromatic misery. People hurrying to seek shelter, not sparing a second glance at anyone who didn't have the same options. Humans truly were miserable creatures. This world of grey truly suited them.

But it didn't suit him. As soon as I met his eyes, I knew they would be my doom.

Golden irises like melted honey, or freshly made butterscotch. Those were the first things I saw, and were what I kept returning to. Even the charm of his strangely coloured hair couldn't grasp my attention from those eyes. A soft amber hue with the intensity of the strongest fires behind them. From the second I saw them, I was utterly smitten. Even if it was forbidden by all means, and could never be forgiven by neither humans nor demons, these feelings only festered with time.

He took me in off the streets, with all knowledge of what I was. I wasn't sure how, or more importantly why, he would do such a thing, but I quickly learned that I would never quite understand Kyoujurou. How he would smile as he talked of his upcoming wedding, yet couldn't hide the dimming of the vibrancy that was so common in his eyes. It tugged at the heart that I thought had long ceased existing. Not only to hear of him being promised to another, but also to see such a crestfallen look in those eyes that had gained my affection.

I knew it could never be. Truly, I did. For not only was I a demon and he a human, but we were also two men. We could never marry, even if these sinful feelings of mine were reciprocated. It was disgusting for me to be most ashamed of this, considering the heinous things I've done up until this point. The countless people I've murdered to please a man of my past. Before, I believed that perhaps I loved him. However the heart is a fickle thing, and so betrayed that emotion almost as quickly as I had betrayed him. Fleeing without any notice, I wound up in that very alleyway and discovered true love just hours later.

Yes, true love. True love that could never be, with so many barriers between us. From every meeting between Kyoujurou and his betrothed, it was obvious that neither were interested. I believe that was what hurt the most, the fact that the main thing keeping me from confessing these wretched feelings was born out of convenience, rather than any form of love. They were incompatible in every meaning of the word, with her iciness putting a damper on his usual flame of excitement. Only in those situations did those flames simmer down into a mere ember, only to spark up again in her absence.

"Do you not enjoy the Lady's presence?" I had once approached the subject in a voice full to the brim of faux dispassion.

He attempted to laugh his usual hearty laugh, but it was almost as false as my previous question's tone. Afterwards, paying no attention to this, he returned with another question: "Why do you ask that?"

His voice held a slight tremble to it, one of nervousness. This was unlike him, so unlike him that this alone evoked in me a strong distaste for the woman.

'Your smile never seems as bright.'

'Your tone is completely different when answering her.'

'Your posture makes it obvious.'

'Your eyes lose their usual warmth.'

These statements, all equally true and clawing at my throat to be said, never came. They hung back, caged in through a tightened jaw and rows of razor teeth. Teeth that had devoured many, and would probably devour many more. And those words would suffer the same fate.

I continued with my task for a minute or so, which was to clean the windows during the night. Looking for something more suitable, I stared at my reflection. Sharp features, dangerous cat-like eyes with a colour that didn't match the softness of Kyoujurou's in any way, shape or form.

It disgusted me, reminded me of what I was. And so instead of speaking the truth to him, which was the least he'd deserved for all his kindness, I turned away from both the window and him.

"A hunch."

He seemed relieved to hear that, as well as chipper that I seemed to understand him like that. But he didn't express that in words, but admitted that he didn't hold any affection for that woman. He wasn't enthusiastic in doing so, but it certainly raised my spirits as well as my guilt. If he could trust me with something so personal as his negative view of his betrothed, then he must certainly hold me in high regard. As someone trustworthy. Yet I couldn't even return such a thing.

As days passed, the wedding drew nearer. And so we had to run around to find the best suits, best flowers, best everything for when the horrid day arrived. Each night I lay awake, never needing to sleep but seeking it more than ever, feeling each day that passed like weights on my chest. Every night I lay there, thinking: 'tomorrow will be the day; I'll confess tomorrow'.

However, every 'tomorrow' came and went like each of the 'tomorrow's before it. With unannounced feelings like chains that tightened around my heart with each sunrise that I cowered from.

Until finally, that 'tomorrow' came.

The confession was hard, and one without words. It was messy, in the heat of the moment, and more human than I'd been in hundreds of years. Vulnerable, weak, pathetic and a complete failure.

Those beautiful eyes of his looked so shocked and cold in that moment, like the melted honey had finally set and would never soften again. Even a thousand blades would hurt less than that moment, and perhaps would make me wish to disappear completely less. So when he pushed me away after I had kissed him, I turned to do exactly that.

I ran away.

It was impossible to not look back, and I did it several times. Wishing that I hadn't done that, so I could have lived on with my life even with those unspoken feelings weighing down on my shoulders. Even if I'd had to show up to the wedding and pretend to be happy, when inside it'd feel like I was being slowly torn apart. To wish for his happiness, even though I knew such a thing was unattainable for such an incompatible couple. Because at least then I could still be near him, and could still be there for him to tell anything to. For him to let out stress through words, or to simply chat with and rekindle his infamous enthusiasm with.

However I'd ruined it all in an act of selfish indulgence, of thoughtlessness. Thrown the relationship that we had cultivated into the gutter in a moment of poor judgement.

Though I wasn't sure what I had thought in the first place by doing so. For in kissing him, I had a vain hope that he would accept these cursed feelings of mine, and we could live happily. However reality is cruel, and so crushed that dream as soon as I had hoped for it, out of spite for my very existence.

When I had stopped running for a moment, it allowed for my thoughts to make themselves known. How perhaps if I was a human, it would all be fine. How perhaps if I was not a man, then it would all be fine. For if Kyoujurou was allowed to marry a human girl, then of course he could not love someone who was the very opposite of this.

Even with the mistake born from my passion fresh in mind, my heart still yearned for more. It yearned to be loved by the man with the beautiful eyes, for perhaps then I would discover both the truest form of love and the truest form of happiness. For only a taster of these had been given to me from being just a friend to this man, which left me wanting more. It was the forbidden fruit, and a trap that I would fall into with open arms. To taste the forbidden fruit, one must first sell their soul to the devil.

And so that is what I did.

The devil willingly took my soul with the broadest of smiles, offering what I wanted for something that he deemed of equal value. To love Kyoujurou without being punished by neither man nor those who feed on them, the thing I must offer would have to be of immense value. However that didn't matter to me at that moment of greed, for my mind was too cluttered to consider any consequences.

Upon encountering Kyoujurou again, the consequences were clear as day. All of the apathy I'd felt towards the idea of any sort of consequences had been replaced with intense sorrow when I met him again; to him, it truly was the first time that we had met, for the thing that the devil decided was of equal value was the treasured memories of our time together. Mine were still intact, but I couldn't decide whether I would have preferred it if they hadn't, for I fear that the tears that threatened the lip of my eyelids were all too obvious.

I wondered if he noticed that look in my eyes when I first met him in that alleyway. The look of awe when looking into his eyes was mirrored in his own, so much so that he barely looked away from them. It wasn't even a minute later that he left the bouquet of freshly cut roses behind. When I saw them, that was when I realised the day.

It was his wedding day.

I wasn't sure whether it was relief that I was just in time, happiness when he embraced me or the lingering sadness that forced the tears down my cheeks. However the second of those listed seemed to win when he didn't pull away from our second kiss. Or our third. Or when we went further.

It was bittersweet, really, to think that he may have never loved the real me, rather than this beautiful shell that harboured all of the best features from my previous form. The thought of him only being interested with this new body of mine left me feeling sick to my stomach, however when he spoke to me those feelings were cast aside completely.

"It's comforting to talk to you," he'd said, "it's like I've known you for a long time."

When he added that onto his original statement, all clues of what to respond with vanished. I was left speechless, utterly astounded, and once more on the verge of tears. His gaze, which was on me, seemed so distant and far away, as if trying to recall something that evades you the more you struggle to grasp it.

I swallowed, exhaled softly, and let out a chuckle that sounded more like a choked bark than anything else. It was an ugly sound, one which I stifled my cringing from with a placid, "that is rather strange... but I'm flattered you feel that way."

To speak like a lady was tiring and required too much thought. Where before I could speak to him however I liked, as the other gender it would be considered rude and crass to do so. Such a thing could drive him away from me again, and that was perhaps what I feared the most.

Perhaps in some aspect he still remembered the time that we'd spent together. Comments like 'you could pass for a boy' from him didn't seem all that offensive to me, considering the context of my situation. Any other woman would have felt disgusted and put-off by such a declaration, but it was hard to feel that way when the thing that I could 'pass for' was what I originally was. Besides, it lay seed for a small flower of hope to begin to bloom in your chest, lay way for hope that perhaps he would gradually begin to remember all the time you'd spent together and all you'd trusted each other with before you'd messed it all up.

But time never allowed for that.

As time moved on, another figure moved into the small lives you'd made for yourselves. You were content, growing to be at some form of peace with your situation before someone from the past emerged.

"Give them to me." He had said, voice like silk yet tone like the sharpest of daggers as he gave his demand. As haughty as I'd remembered, and as beautiful.

"Why?" Kyoujurou's smile never left his face, even in a situation as tense as this. He had no clue what was happening here, or why. The guilt began to eat at me again, for if it wasn't for my selfishness, he wouldn't have to be in such a situation anyway. He wouldn't be standing there in between me and the man, shielding me from him. Though Kyoujurou was no fool (he could tell what was a demon and what wasn't from a mile off), he still voluntarily put himself there.

Though I tried to intercept, to convince Kyoujurou to back down from the rising tensions, he didn't allow it in the slightest, only turning to me with that same smile and the same soft eyes that I adored: "there's no need to be worried, I'll keep you safe."

Even still, I wanted to protest, to cry out that his safety was much more important than mine. However the coldness of the intruder's voice cut off any attempt of that.

"You don't need to know that. All you need to know is that I'll take them either way, except if you resist then you'll wind up dead."

To see him here was both shocking and something I dreaded since the moment I'd fled those many months ago. However I wasn't expecting it now, after all this time. It was foolish of me not to, but I just didn't. I found it much easier and much more enjoyable to indulge in the simple and happy lifestyle, where Kyoujurou and I were the only people in the world.

But out of us, soon it would just be I in the world.

The blood was escaping faster than I could try and slow it to give it time to clot. There was so much; it painted my palms and the outside of my hands, staining my face as I stressed as to how to save him. How could I save him? Could I even save him- was it possible? Was this the hand of fate once more, bringing wrath down upon those who dare to taste the forbidden fruit of love between two people that could never be? Was fate serving justice to me, taking away this man's life as revenge for me ruining it? For tempting him away using the foulest of methods from the life he had been given to live?

Such a cruel thing is something I cannot allow. Not if it results in his death.

Yet no matter how much I tried, what I used to soak up the blood and put pressure on the wound, it just wouldn't stop pouring out. Futile tears emerged once more, as if to evoke some pity from whatever cruel deity was enjoying this image of suffering. Yet even then it wouldn't clot, only slipping through my fingers and staining the ground below him. The ground that would swallow him up if I continued to do next to nothing. But there was nothing I could do! I was no doctor by any means, more used to slaughter than healing.

And so, unable to do anything on my own, I had visited an old friend. One who had helped me out with my poor choices once more.

The devil welcomed me back with open arms and a wide grin, as he had first welcomed me before.

I felt the very structure of my being begin to change. A process so painful that I wanted to scream, though sharpening teeth kept them locked within.

He asked for what I had returned.

My internal structure was tearing itself down only to rebuild itself again.

I asked him, with no hesitation: "is it possible to undo my wish?"

But I could feel it, underneath fingers that begun to sharpen also-

He affirmed that it was possible, only to question the reason behind why I was curious about such a thing.

-his wound was clotting.

I told him of my situation, a brief rundown so as to not waste any time. It was of the essence here, after all.

Such a feeling caused the flower of hope to bloom once more in my chest; a full bloom, full of beauty and without sin.

Very quickly he caught on, coming up with a solution with astounding speed. Not that it was very surprising.

His eyes, the sun beginning to fade from those golden hues, began to regain their light.

This was the devil, after all.

They were just as beautiful as the first time.

He had proposed the solution to me.

With the bittersweet familiarity now running through them, unsure of whether to smile or cry.

To undo my deal and to, in turn, fulfil a different one.

This was a dilemma I was facing myself.

This time, as it was his life on the line, the price was higher.

So instead of choosing, I settled on both.

As he was in such dire condition also,

This time, he couldn't bring his radiant smile to light up his features.

the price would be my life.

Instead, as I collapsed into his arms, he only cried instead.

And I accepted without a moment's debate.

The embrace he held me in was shaky as his body was wracked with sobbing, the demon who almost stole away his life standing a bit away from us with unimaginable anger across his face. He was yelling, staring outraged right at me. But at this moment, I decided that I couldn't care less, for surely in exchange for an immortal life, even he wouldn't be able to harm Kyoujurou.

'Let's meet again,' I had tried to say, but lacked the breath and the energy to do so. All I could do was hope that he understood as I lost the energy to even stare upwards at the tears escaping from kindling irises.