#cold nights warm hearts

[bcbdrums]

A Touch of Warmth

A Soul Eater fanfic. Read on: AO3 | FFn

Sixth in my series of 31 prompt-based one-shots (filling them out of order; this is prompt 5). Prompts from this list.

A/N: More of the academy days for my faves, but super early this time. I wanna say...maybe just a few months of partnership here. And living in cheap academy dorms haha. Imagine a sad college dorm room I guess. Stein is only 10 years old and Spirit is 13. Long, long, rambly stream of consciousness relationship stuff that I wrote like...in the first week of December. And then didn't finish until just now (late March) and there was only a little bit left to go. Oops. Wonder how much that gap impacted the story/writing style... If you like long rambly things that don't really have a point, well, here you go. Enjoy. 5. Puzzling

A Touch of Warmth

An icy chill like breath across his cheeks was what roused Spirit from sleep. He shivered and then blinked twice before tightly closing his eyes again. Even the air was cold, assaulting the tender moisture beneath his lashes like the slap of cold water.

After taking another moment to realize he was awake and not dreaming, he fully processed the freezing sensation as one he should not be feeling on a desert morning. He clutched his blanket close to his chest and sat up in bed, squinting. White was what overwhelmed his blurred vision, and he snaked an arm out of his warm cocoon and felt almost blindly along the windowsill until his fingers met something very cold and wet.

He gasped and drew back, blinking until his sight clarified to reveal what it was he had touched.

Gathered on the sill near the open window were a line of melting snowflakes.

Spirit's jaw fell slack as he reached out to touch a cluster again, watching it turn to water rapidly even as it cooled his fingertips. But when he looked up and out the window his eyes went wide.

Where there should have been dirt, stone, and dried grasses in the backyard of the dormitory there was only white, and the sky was gray as snow fell in lace-like curtains, thick and silent, covering the landscape as far as the eye could see.

It was several moments of staring, captivated by the scene and breathing the icy air, before Spirit reached out to slide the window closed. And then he spun around to face the bed of his roommate.

"Hey Stein, wake—"

Spirit blinked. His very young meister was not in his bed.

The red-haired teen took stock of their tiny dorm room quickly, noting the boy's blankets uncharacteristically tossed back and his pair of shoes sitting neatly next to his desk. It appeared as though Stein had gotten under his bed at some point, because the corner of a box was sticking out near where the blankets were carelessly draped down to the floor. Then Spirit noticed the door to the hallway was ajar.

"Stein?" he said again as he glanced once more around their small room. The boy was definitely not there.

Spirit threw his own blankets aside and hurriedly dressed, selecting warmer clothing than he would ever choose for a day in Death City but something he was more likely to wear on an extracurricular assignment far further north. He gaze was continually drawn to the astonishing view through the window as he fumbled with a pair of boots, still not quite believing that a seeming winter had arrived in the middle of Nevada.

He had experienced snow a couple of times in his life, but never at leisure, and nothing at all like what he was seeing outside as it seemed to be sticking to sand and stone, transforming the barren landscape to one of wonder and quiet mystery.

"Stein?" Spirit asked again, peering down the hallway after pulling the door open. The dormitory was dark and silent.

Spirit's brow furrowed as he turned toward the bathroom that all the students in his wing shared, wondering if that was where the boy had gone. His meister operated like clockwork, and it was the startling deviation from the norm that had Spirit perplexed and was driving him to find his partner almost as much as the desire to share his newfound excitement at the change in the weather.

Most of the students in their building had gone home for the holidays, but both Stein and Spirit had declined that privilege, neither offering any explanation to the other. And Spirit was glad for his decision, knowing the snow wasn't anything he would have seen otherwise.

"Stein?" he whispered, peering into the darkened bathroom but already fairly certain of what he would find. Every stall door was open, the showers and sinks were silent, and the lights were off.

Spirit stuck his lip out in annoyance at the same time his brow furrowed in worry. He'd wanted to enjoy the experience of the fresh falling snow with his meister. But as Spirit turned to walk toward the front door concern began to overtake his initial elation. Just where was the boy?

It wasn't that he didn't think Stein couldn't handle himself; the few combat training classes they'd already had proved that he could. But the meister was just so young, and he looked it. Spirit was barely thirteen and this was the first time he'd been on his own, but in the few months they'd been roommates he could tell that the silver-haired ten-year-old was already accustomed to fending for himself.

Spirit had no background on his meister, and the boy was distant without being blatantly rude. He seemed to genuinely not know how to interact with their peers along with something else Spirit couldn't yet place. But the teen was patient, and Lord Death had specifically chosen Stein to be his meister. That alone was worth everything.

He pushed through the front door of the dormitory and a biting chill rushed in along with a few flurries of snow. Spirit grinned, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as he closed his eyes and took in the feel of the ice hitting his face like unforeseen kisses, softly leaving their mark before vanishing and stirring his thoughts toward the ethereal and imaginative. There was a promise of something new in the snowfall, and Spirit wanted to take advantage of every moment of it.

He stepped fully through the door and into the wall of white, his boots almost soundless as they pushed through the drift that had already built up in the uncovered entryway. And that’s when he saw the single point of color: a telltale shock of silver hair.

Next to one of the benches that lined the sidewalk to the dorms knelt Franken Stein. Snow had collected in a thin layer atop his head, shoulders, and the backs of his legs, though one could hardly tell for the plain white pajamas he wore, causing the boy to be almost invisible in the newly whited-out landscape. He was bent over some small mechanical device placed on the bench, his concentration so full that he didn’t notice when Spirit closed the door. Another point of color were the pale soles of his feet; he wasn’t wearing any shoes.

“Stein?” Spirit asked in surprise, hurrying forward. His delight at the weather had wholly evaporated at the sight of his young meister barely clothed out in the cold. “What are you doing?”

The boy didn’t reply, but scowled at whatever it was he was looking at. He reached for the device and Spirit recognized a microscope as he approached. Stein had picked up a small glass slide, and Spirit watched as he leaned back from the bench to slowly wipe it on the hem of his shirt, and then hold it out to catch a few falling snowflakes. His hands shook as he replaced it under the lens and quickly leaned down again, turning the focus knob to bring his subjects into clarity. As Spirit finally stopped next to the bench he could see it wasn't just Stein's hands, but his entire frame shaking from head to toe, and his usually colorless lips were a frightening shade of blue.

“Stein!” Spirit cried in protest, his voice rising in pitch.

“Don’t breathe.”

Spirit blinked, the harsh but monotone directive confusing his train of thought.

“What?” he asked, but held his breath nonetheless.

“They melt too fast if you breathe.”

Spirit rapidly went through the arguments in his head that he wasn't even near the snowflakes on the slide, and that Stein himself was so cold now that he'd be surprised if he had any warmth left in his lungs. But none of those words came out as somehow, as always, he was drawn like a magnet to his meister's side and knelt down, curiosity rising in him despite the chill beginning to penetrate his coat.

"What are you looking at?"

"The structure of the snowflakes."

Spirit looked at the cluster of white that had in fact already begun to melt on the slide under the lens, and then back to his meister, his face hidden as he stared down through the microscope.

"So far they are perfectly symmetrical and each one has six branches, but no two are alike. The probability of two being the same eventually is strong, but..."

Stein stopped suddenly, and Spirit watched the meister move his hand away from the focusing knob, place it between his thighs where his left hand was already hidden.

Spirit frowned.

"Get up."

"What?"

Stein was still peering into the microscope.

"Get up or I'm picking you up."

That got the meister's attention. His eyes snapped to Spirit's, confusion overlaid by defiance and something else hard and threatening. It had only been three months, but it had taken less than a day of acquaintance for Spirit to learn that the boy would not tolerate being touched without express permission.

"You can't do this like this," Spirit continued. "You're going to freeze to death."

Stein's expression didn't change.

"If you want to be helpful you could get me a notebook to record my findings. You don't have a camera, do you?"

Each word was spoken through trembling blue lips, and Spirit noticed that the rest of the boy's unnaturally pale skin was rapidly changing hue. His heart began racing as he made his decision, not knowing what the ramifications would be but knowing that he had no choice.

Stein didn't speak when Spirit stood, but when the weapon's gloved hands came down under the meister's armpits he jerked away with a strength Spirit wouldn't have thought him capable.

"Don't touch me!" was the protest that sounded before the boy began fighting back, pushing and beating against Spirit's shoulders, but the weapon was determined.

It was a battle of hands and arms and legs and feet as he half-fought, half-dragged Stein back into the dormitory hall, tuning out every word of protest that was laid against him with each step. He only finally paid attention again when Stein managed to free one arm just inside the door and landed a glancing blow against Spirit's cheek.

He shuddered in response, not letting go but halting the movement of his feet. The hit may not have fully connected, but it was still hard and for a moment the world was spinning and Spirit's only point of focus were his hurried breaths and the heavier panting of the younger boy upon whom he still had an iron grip.

When his eyes refocused on Stein's face the meister appeared shocked—quite the change from his typically guarded expression—but his skin was still unnaturally blue, and there was something off about his eyes even past the unusual expression. It sent a wash of fear through Spirit that rapidly overrode the pain of the punch.

He reached past Stein and kicked the door closed hard.

"Stein. I'm not going to let you die out there because you were too stupid to get dressed before running out to play in the snow."

"I... I wasn't..." Stein began, still breathless and something definitely off about his vision.

Spirit ignored the pulsing of pain in his cheek and while Stein was distracted, he scooped the smaller boy up like he would a toddler and stalked hurriedly down the hall.

"Hey! Stop it!" was Stein's weak protest this time, and Spirit noted he was struggling a lot less than when they'd been pushing through the ankle-deep snow outside.

When he reached the bathroom he all but dropped Stein for how much he was twisting to escape. When the meister's feet hit the tile he slipped on his wet, bare soles and would have hit the floor had Spirit not still had his hands on him. Stein clung to Spirit's arms in surprise, not having expected the backward plunge, and when Spirit had righted them both he finally let go.

He reached back to hit the light switch and Stein flinched away, holding a hand up to cover his eyes as his breaths still came far too heavily for the minimal exertion of the struggle to get indoors. When he finally squinted at Spirit his expression fell to shock again. It finally occurred to the red-head that there was something other than the fact that he'd interrupted Stein's ill-conceived experimenting that had shaken the boy, and he turned around to see his face in the mirror.

Spirit nearly gasped for how utterly terrified he looked. Terrified and furious, perhaps in a way that his young partner had never seen another person look before, if the way it froze the boy in place was any indication.

Spirit knew he needed to calm down, calm his expression and be reasonable so he could explain to his meister just how dangerous his actions had been. But as he turned back to face the boy he only felt the anger swell to a greater presence in his soul.

Stein's clothes were nearly soaked through, the white of the pajamas turned gray from moisture and his hair darker for it. The color of his skin was wrong. He was visibly shaking from head to toe, and his vision was hazy and seeming unable to really see Spirit even though his eyes hadn't left the red-head since the moment he'd let him go.

Spirit opened his mouth to speak, but the movement of his jaw caused his cheek to sting where Stein had punched him. He hissed and reached his fingers up to the spot before jabbing his other arm past Stein to point, the motion causing the boy to jump.

"Get in there," he commanded coolly, his voice low and laced with threat. "Get under some hot water and sit down. I'm going to get you some dry clothes."

Stein's expression of shock remained, the boy still frozen by the look on Spirit's face. They remained unmoving for several moments, but when the meister's breaths began to even out he finally turned toward the showers to comply with the weapon's words.

It wasn't until Stein had fully obeyed, letting the shower run until the water was warm and then stepping under the stream and sitting down to lean against the tiled wall, that Spirit finally turned to go.

He let his anger carry his feet briskly back toward their shared bedroom, blindly going through the motions once there of making Stein's bed, dragging the only spare blanket from the closet to place atop it, and then yanking his own bedding free to add on top of that. Horrible scenarios were racing through his head of what he might have found out in the snow instead of his insatiably curious young meister studying the patterns of snowflakes had he slept in a little later, or decided to enjoy the surprise of the weather from the comfort of his bed.

Spirit stopped abruptly from where he'd been casting off his winter outerwear and blinked at nothing as the realization struck.

Stein had been looking at snowflakes.

The fear crashed fully over Spirit's anger, obliterating it as the teen sat down on the floor and began to cry. He could have lost his meister, might still lose him, because the boy had been just as excited about the snow as he was.

If he hadn't immediately gone outside to play...

Spirit didn't know how long he cried, but the sudden realization that he could still lose Stein drove him back to the present. He didn't know anything about frostbite or hypothermia or any other manner of freezing-induced ailments. They were all alone in the dorm and he had no one to call for help since everyone had left for the holidays. And just how long had he left Stein alone in the shower with his vision hazy and his pallor looking near death?

Spirit stood so fast it made him dizzy, made his cheek throb where he'd been hit, and he rummaged through Stein's drawers until he finally found the boy's thicker socks for winter assignments along with underwear and more pajamas. As an afterthought he grabbed his own thick bathrobe and then both of their towels before turning to run back down the hall.

He slowed his step before entering the bathroom, terrified of what he might find. At least he could still hear the shower running, but...was that a good sign? Instead of entering he peered cautiously around the doorjamb.

Stein looked exactly as Spirit had left him, seated against the tile and curled tightly in on himself as the warm water poured over him. His arms were folded atop his raised knees and his hands were tight in fists, and his face was hidden where it lie on his arms. Spirit licked his lips and took a cautious step forward, and then another. There was no reaction from the meister.

Spirit paused, took in a silent breath...and then he flicked his eyes sideways to the mirror. He didn't look angry anymore, although he could still see it rise behind his eyes the moment he thought about it. No, now he looked every bit as scared as he felt, perhaps even more than when he'd drug Stein back indoors, and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying.

Any other time Spirit would have been annoyed by his transparency, but since it had seemingly helped to get his meister to comply he decided he didn't care.

He turned back toward the small, gray form in the shower, felt his heart rate quicken as he mustered the courage to speak.

"Stein?"

Stein lifted his head.

The relief Spirit felt was enough to make his knees go weak, and he leaned on the counter to steady himself as he set the clothing down and draped the two towels over his arm. He sucked in a few breaths, looked up to the mirror again and saw a brightness fitting itself behind the fear in his eyes, and he grimaced before turning to approach the meister.

"You, uh... You ready to come out of there?"

Stein didn't respond, only watched Spirit's approach, watched him stop about five feet distant, his expression having returned to its usual dull, esoteric impassivity. And as his eyes locked on Spirit's the red-head thought he looked even more withdrawn than before. But, blessedly, perhaps less hazy.

He didn't know if staying under the warm water longer would be better or worse for Stein's recovery, but his own anxiety couldn't stand the inaction. He pursed his lips and stepped forward, reaching around the stream to turn the water off.

Stein slowly began pushing himself upright, his eyes not having left Spirit's face even to blink.

"Uh...here," Spirit said, holding out the two towels. After a moment, Stein slowly reached across the distance to receive them. "There's clothes on the counter, uh..."

Spirit realized he needed to give the meister some privacy to change, and he thought quickly.

"I'll go get you something warm to drink. I'll uh...I'll be right back."

Spirit turned and hurried out of the bathroom as quickly as he could, making long strides down the hallway.

The tiny kitchen that could hardly be called such was at the other end of the building, and Spirit didn't want the meister out of his sight for any longer than was necessary just in case there was some delayed danger to whatever cold-induced condition he'd brought upon himself.

As Spirit passed the main entry he took careful steps to avoid the melted snow that had found its way inside from the struggle through the doorway, and then something occurred to him that halted his rush.

He turned and dashed back out into the icy air, his breath catching instantly as cold assaulted his body. He grimaced at the irony that it was now he who was under-dressed and risking himself in the elements, but he picked his way through the piling snow to the bench where the microscope was gathering a larger collection of specimens than it was designed for. Spirit tucked the freezing object safely against his chest and hurried back inside to be free of the snow falling into his face and the chill already seeming to seep into his bones.

He didn't hesitate but to close the door behind him, and then took the microscope the rest of the way down the hall and into the small kitchen.

Inside the narrow room he quickly opened the freezer and considered a moment before pulling out a few boxes of frozen meals left by other students to make space, and then he carefully placed the heavy instrument inside. He turned the freezer's temperature lower and then quickly closed it, blowing into his hands to warm them as he tried to remember his original purpose, his mind still awash with fear.

The microwave dinners on the counter was what returned his focus, and he quickly filled two mugs with water and set them to heat as he considered the beverage options. It took less than ten seconds to decide on tea, considering he didn't even know if there was hot cocoa mix around and he still really didn't want Stein out of his sight any longer than necessary.

Another thought occurred to him as he watched the microwave's timer tick down, and he turned and ran silently on his toes back to the bedroom. Once inside he didn't even look before diving for the box sticking out from beneath Stein's bed, and sure enough it was the box the microscope had been housed in. He carefully removed every delicate glass slide that remained tucked in the Styrofoam, and then cradling them gently, he ran back to the kitchen.

Once there he opened the freezer and carefully brushed a few snow clusters from the microscope onto each slide, including the one still beneath the lens which he removed. He brushed the remaining snow off the instrument into the freezer, and then carefully lifted the heavy device out.

He was methodically drying it with a dish towel as the microwave sounded completion, which he ignored in favor of caring for the delicate equipment. He didn't know for sure that moisture would damage it, but it seemed a fair guess, and he went at its crevices carefully with paper towels until the microwave beeped a second time.

He realized with a jolt that he had left Stein alone for well over five minutes now between all he'd been occupied with, and he hurriedly grabbed the mugs from the microwave and then pocketed a small handful of tea bags and sugar packets from the basket on the counter next to the stove.

He forced himself to keep his pace to a brisk walk this time, mindful of the steaming mugs in his hands. He was so lost in the anxiety of too many what-ifs and the need to hurry, hurry, hurry that he almost bumped into his meister as the younger boy was standing waiting outside their bedroom door, chin dipped low to his chest. Spirit gasped and startled back a step, then hissed as a splash of hot water hit his hand.

The meister had no reaction to Spirit's pain, looking downright sullen in the oversized bathrobe. But Spirit noticed his hands were tucked deeply into the pockets, and his hair was still wet although it showed signs of having been towel-dried.

"Stein..." Spirit breathed, continuing his visual assessment; was he imagining it, or was Stein's skin less blue?

The boy met his eyes through a curtain of damp hair, and Spirit sighed. As ever, his young meister was unreadable, except Spirit knew that somehow, in some measure...Stein was very displeased with him.

"Come on. You're getting into bed."

Spirit carefully gestured with one mug, and he expected to have to put forth an argument, but atypically Stein simply obeyed. Spirit watched for a moment, and then followed the boy a few steps inside the door and pulled it closed with his heel. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until his chest began to burn, and he let the air out slowly in hopes of not drawing Stein's attention.

The meister had paused in the center of the room, clearly making note of all the changes and liberties Spirit had taken before he seemed to resign himself to his fate and climb into his bed. But instead of lying down, Stein shifted his pillows up against the wall to sit and face Spirit's bed and the window on the wall between them. Once he was settled with too many blankets piled atop his lap and tucked up to his chest, hands buried deep inside the cocoon he'd made, he drew his knees up and shifted his eyes to settle on the window. Spirit didn't need to look to know it was still heavily snowing, and his breath hitched again when Stein slowly dragged his dull gaze back to him.

Spirit covered the gesture with a slight cough and then stepped forward to set the mugs on Stein's desk.

"Do you like sugar in your tea? And uh..." He pulled his small hoard from his pocket, some of the packets falling to the floor in the process. "I grabbed... Earl Grey, chamomile, mint, peach oolong... What's oolong..."

"Mint," Stein replied quietly, and Spirit realized it was the first word his partner had spoken since he'd deposited him unhappily in the dorm's bathroom.

"Sugar?" Spirit asked, after putting the tea bag into one mug.

"No, thank you."

The meister's voice was somehow more void of inflection than usual, and Spirit felt his stomach twist in unease as he ripped into one of the packets of sugar for his own mug and poured it in. He realized he'd forgotten to grab any stirring sticks and stepped back to his own desk to procure a pen to use as a substitute. He had decided on the peach oolong, the only other flavor appealing to him being the mint, but apparently he'd given the sole bag to Stein.

When he stepped nearer the meister's bed to hand him the tea, it was a moment before Stein moved to extricate his hands from the blanket-nest he seemed to be burrowing deeper within. His fingers brushed against Spirit's when he wrapped them around the mug's handle and the distinct chill the weapon felt at the contact set his heart racing in fear again. Stein had been under a hot stream of water for at least fifteen minutes if not longer, but he was still cold. Should Spirit have let him stay there longer? Was that even the right thing to do?

Spirit felt his head begin to ache and he rubbed his brow, feeling the pinch of his skin where it twisted in worry. He absently stirred the sugar into his mug with the back of the pen and tried to push his feet out of his boots. The laces were too tight however, and the result was him stumbling against his mostly-stripped bed and barely preventing the tea from spilling as he lost his balance entirely, his knees hitting the floor hard.

He cursed under his breath and then bit his lip in regret. His young meister had likely never heard such foul language, and he shouldn't be the one to introduce him to it.

He set his tea on the windowsill and then reached down to loosen his bootlaces just enough to tug them off, and then pushed himself back on his bed against the wall in a mirror of Stein's pose. The room was still chilled from the window having been open all night, and he shivered despite himself as he drew his knees up high to his chest, tucking his hands under his rear for warmth.

It was only after another shiver that he let his gaze travel across the room to meet his meister's eyes. The boy looked slightly more curious than he had before, but overall he still appeared more detached than the weapon was used to seeing. What Spirit didn't know and wished he did was whether it was just from the upset at his pulling him away from his fun, or if it meant the fun had already had a dire consequence.

"Uh..." Spirit said, feeling suddenly very awkward. Stein lifted his head slightly, sipped from the tea, but his expression didn't change. "Are you, uh... How are you feeling?"

Stein stared at him blankly, and while Spirit thought three months had gotten him used to how unfeeling the meister seemed from his countenance, he realized that it only counted in a predictable context. In class or on a mission, Spirit was learning what to expect. But Stein was about as antisocial as anyone he'd ever met, and it suddenly pressed against his mind just how little he really knew about the boy he lived and partnered with.

"Cold," Stein finally said, so quiet Spirit almost didn't hear.

He looked at just how very small Stein looked wearing the large bathrobe, bundled as deeply into the blankets as he could get while still upright. His hair was looking less wet but still a darker shade of gray than its usual mystifying silver. When he lifted the mug to take another sip of tea, Spirit noted how small the meister's hands were as they clutched tightly to the cup for the extra heat.

He tried not to think of Stein as a child. He hardly thought of himself as more than that, when he was honest with himself. But between the two he was the far elder and more experienced, and as the weapon it was his responsibility to protect his meister. Even from himself.

Spirit glanced away and out at the snow falling less in thick curtains now and more just in scattered flakes, still dense but allowing a view toward the other dormitory buildings before the scene faded into a white haze beyond which he knew the rest of Death City rose up above the sand. But for the moment it was as if the tiny bedroom existed separate from the rest of the world, and Spirit and Stein the only two people in it.

"Have you, ah...ever seen snow before?" Spirit continued, fishing for conversation.

Stein looked up past the rim of the mug again, seeming to analyze Spirit with every question, and then shook his head no.

Spirit swallowed under the scrutiny, and continued. "I've seen it a couple of other times, but...nothing like this."

The red-head shivered again and watched the way the flakes fell, most tiny and notably slower than rain, but others in large clumps that hurried past their smaller companions. It was captivating, and when he turned back to Stein the boy had resumed looking out the window.

"I had hoped we would see it on the assignment to Alaska, but...then that got canceled," Spirit said, dropping his gaze to the gray of his jeans.

There was still only silence in response, and this time Spirit let it linger, only briefly lifting his eyes a couple of times to find Stein still watching the display through the window. The curiosity in the boy's eyes had turned to something deeper; there was a longing now, and endless questions racing somewhere behind the brilliant, green eyes.

Spirit's gaze snapped up to focus as he realized with a flood of relief that the clarity was returning to Stein's vision. It had to be a sign, he hoped, that the surprise winter wasn't going to steal the life of his young meister after all.

The red-head looked at the window again and sniffed once, his nose starting to run due to the cold air in the room. The wonder and beauty of the snowfall began to fade as he considered again the terrifying possibilities of what could have happened. Suddenly the soft, white landscape seemed just as barren as the desert sands.

And yet...

"I'm sorry."

When he looked away from the window Stein was watching him, his brow risen in slight surprise. Spirit dropped his gaze as he shivered, moving his arms to wrap around himself and tuck his fingers under his armpits. He focused on the lines of denim across his knees as his eyes burned with the threat of tears, hoping that in saving his young meister he hadn't irreparably damaged their relationship when it had hardly started.

It was true they had been able to resonate practically immediately upon partnering, surprising everyone except Lord Death. But Spirit knew that the road ahead of them would require far more from them both than the superficial connection they had made so far. And in dealing so harshly with the boy, he could have undone their three months together and hurt the chances for their future.

"I'm not sorry for saving you, Stein. I was just so scared, and... Your face was all..." He gestured briefly to the still-unhealthy hue to the boy's skin. "But I... I probably could have...done that differently... And, you're not stupid. I shouldn't have said that. Sorry."

He didn't look up, only pressed further back against the wall and tucked one set of toes under the other in search for warmth as he became more aware of the chill to the room. He suddenly realized that since all of the students had been expected to go home, the heating had likely been shut off to the dormitory. That, in addition to his window having been open all night to the unexpected winter weather, explained the bitter chill he was feeling in the usually comfortable room. It wouldn't reach dangerous temperatures, but it was still a bit much for the simple jeans and t-shirt Spirit had hurried into after waking.

Stein didn't reply, and Spirit sniffled again, grateful the cold air at least gave him an excuse as he fought back tears. His mind began racing with a whole new set of horrible fears. What if Stein decided he didn't want to be his partner after this?

"You didn't need to give me your blankets and pillows."

Spirit sniffled again and looked up. Stein was watching him and the weapon studied his blue-gray pallor, the rising brightness in his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat as concerns of illness rose and shook his head.

"You need them more than me."

Spirit had no sooner rested his cheek—the uninjured one—on his knee, than he heard faint slurping across the room. He raised his head again to see Stein tilting the mug all the way back and finishing the tea, after which he settled his head back against the wall, continuing to clutch the now-empty mug. He shivered.

Spirit frowned and considered offering to microwave another mug, and then looked at his own forgotten tea on the windowsill. Steam was still rising from the liquid.

He slowly uncurled himself from against the wall, feeling the little warmth he had gathered seep away in seconds as he slid his feet back to the floor and picked up the mug.

"Here, I didn't drink any," he said when he offered it, Stein's brow rising, and then, "...Oh."

He pulled out the pen he'd used to stir the sugar in and frowned, making a mental note for the future that Stein preferred his tea without the sweetener. After a moment the boy reached out with a shaking hand and they exchanged mugs. Spirit set the used one on Stein's desk with the pen inside before turning back toward his bed.

"You can sit here."

Spirit stopped and looked at the meister, blinking in confusion as he failed to process the words.

"What?"

There was silence for a moment, the weapon watching the meister's small hands clutching tightly to the cup for the warmth it provided as he sipped the steaming liquid. Then the green-eyed gaze rose again.

"You can sit here, too."

Spirit's mind slowly pieced the meaning of the words together, his brow rising in surprise as he considered. It wasn't the sort of offer he would have expected from the meister in any typical situation, and especially not after he'd manhandled him indoors and ordered him around. But he was growing too cold too fast to find any reason to protest, and after a moment he climbed onto the bed and pulled the blankets back to tuck himself in next to Stein, his back against the wall and a few inches of space between them.

Stein tugged one of the pillows from behind him and pushed it toward the weapon, and Spirit gratefully shoved it behind his back, his spine instantly feeling the relief. He adjusted the blankets perhaps more than was necessary, making sure Stein still had enough to bury as deeply beneath them as he wanted, but grateful for the added warmth immediately.

The view out the window wasn't nearly as good as it was from his own bed, but at least Stein had the better position to continue watching the snowfall. He peripherally observed the meister take another tentative sip of the tea, purse his lips at the taste, and then balance the mug on his knees, both hands still wrapped tightly around it.

Spirit sighed lightly. If nothing else, at least it would help keep Stein's hands warm.

"Thanks," Spirit said quietly, suddenly finding he couldn't meet the meister's eyes. After the way he'd treated him, Stein's kindness was startling, and he wasn't sure how to respond other than accept the offered protection from the cold and continue to hope the younger boy would be all right.

"My microscope cost almost three hundred dollars."

Spirit was startled by the non sequitur and turned to look at the meister. The boy's eyes, definitely no longer glazed, were hardened in the way they looked when they were in class and he was frustrated by something their professor was saying. Spirit swallowed nervously just before words bubbled out of him faster than his brain could keep up.

"I was very careful, I promise! I didn't touch the lenses and I got every crevice. I even went over it twice to make sure it was dry!"

Stein had turned to look at him during the rush of words, and it took Spirit a moment to realize his expression had changed. The hardness had left his eyes, his usual aloofness now the dominant expression, but there was question and curiosity and surprise hidden beneath it. The boy's lips were parted, his jaw ever so slightly slack as he stared unblinking back at Spirit. The intensity of it startled Spirit so much that his words stopped for a moment before he licked his dry lips and fumbled for something else to say.

"And I...I put snow on each slide for you to look at later. They're in the freezer, I turned it down so they shouldn't melt. Sorry I... I should have asked before touching your things. I'm sorry."

Spirit licked his lips again and looked down. He should apologize for going through Stein's clothing too, he knew, but he was suddenly feeling very self-conscious and like he was the one under the lens of a microscope as Stein continued staring at him.

He thought the three months had gone well, all things considered. He wasn't used to being around someone as stoic as the partner he'd been assigned, but he had been trying very hard to learn what made the boy tick and how to be the best partner he could, responding to the meister's quirks and for the most part simply staying out of his way since privacy was what Stein seemed to value most. And Spirit had violated that repeatedly that morning.

He suddenly felt a yawn coming and restrained the action with effort. As his heart raced with the excess of nerves he glanced over to check the time on Stein's alarm clock on his small nightstand. It was just after eight o'clock. He chewed some of the dry skin from his lower lip and considered how to voice the question pressing against his mind after the embarrassing outburst of moments before.

It turned out he didn't have to, because when he turned back he found Stein had been following his gaze.

"I was outside before seven," Stein offered.

Something was different about his tone, and Spirit shifted his gaze to meet his partner's. Stein's expression had changed again to something the weapon had never seen and didn't know how to interpret. His eyes had lost the hardness almost entirely and seemed to be seeking something. Before Spirit could even try to figure it out, Stein surprised him again by handing him the mug of tea. He took a sip and then immediately a larger swallow as the liquid coated his throat, soothing some of the strain he hadn't realized was there as he continued worrying.

When he returned the cup to let Stein keep using it to warm his hands, his fingers brushed against the meister's cooler ones. He frowned at the contact and looked away, his gaze flitting between the window and the clock as he worried.

He wanted to believe that Stein would be fine. But he'd been out in the snow for over an hour and his hands were still cold, despite the heat of the shower, despite having been wrapped around the mugs of hot tea for several minutes.

Spirit felt the sting of coming tears again. He bit his cheeks in attempt to fight off the instinct, let his eyes dart over the room in search of some anchor that would help distract him from the fears and anxiety swirling through his soul. But just as he felt his emotions would collapse, Stein surprised him once more.

"I'm sorry I hit you."

Spirit's brow rose. He had nearly forgotten about the glancing punch and lifted his fingers to lightly press to his cheek. The flesh was tender, but it was nothing like the hits he'd taken in their combat classes or on missions. Of course those were different too, having been taken in weapon form.

"It's okay," he answered.

Stein was looking up at him almost like he'd never seen him before. The curiosity in his eyes was different somehow—not the clinical gaze he favored most things with, nor the apathy that came after the boy determined something held no value to him. There seemed to be almost more color to his eyes as they remained locked on the weapon's, and fascinated by the meister appearing so human, Spirit held his gaze.

The fear that had been consuming him changed somehow, under the inquisitive look that Stein had set upon him. The situation no longer felt hopeless or beyond control. In fact, the way his meister was looking at him now, his eyes held perhaps more life than Spirit had ever seen.

"Hey, ah..." he said, his voice quivering suddenly from an emotion he couldn't place. "When you're feeling better, maybe we could have a snowball fight."

Confusion joined the curiosity that Stein had fixed him with.

"...Snowball fight?"

Spirit smiled. "Yeah. You make balls out of the snow, and throw them at each other. For fun. Snowball fight."

Stein finally blinked, once, but didn't break eye contact. The intensity of his gaze was starting to feel unnerving, but Spirit found he couldn't look away. Not when he was so worried. And not after the long months of trying so hard to understand the enigmatic, private boy. Something had finally seemed to spur the beginnings of a mutual connection, and he wasn't about to waste the opportunity.

"Or...or maybe build a snowman?" he suggested, realizing suddenly that throwing hard-packed snow at his meister after nearly freezing was probably not a good idea, even if it would be several hours later. "I've always wanted to play in the snow..."

Stein continued to stare at him. He offered the tea to Spirit again, who took it and only sipped from the mug this time, not wanting to steal away the hot liquid that was helping Stein warm his hands. He held the eye contact, and Stein didn't so much as blink even after the mug was handed back.

Spirit began to feel self-conscious under the meister's gaze, though he couldn't determine why. He reached up to run his fingers through his hair and watched Stein's eyes follow the motion, linger on the spot where he'd briefly scratched his head, and then slowly return to his face again.

"O-Or...if you just want to play with your microscope, that's fine too. We don't have to play together, if you don't want to. I was just thinking—"

"Okay."

The train of Spirit's thoughts that had started running out of control was suddenly halted.

"Huh?"

"A snowball fight sounds interesting."

Stein abruptly handed the mug back to Spirit, who blinked and sipped from it obediently; the tea had begun to cool. Stein's eyes finally left Spirit's face, and he buried his hands under the blanket and tucked it up higher to his chin as he turned his gaze toward the window.

Spirit looked back to find that the snow was falling in thick curtains again. If Stein did feel up to going out later, at least there would be no lack of the stuff to play in.

He leaned his head back against the wall, sipped the sweet tea again, and sighed. He felt Stein look up at him, but he kept his gaze on the window. Part of him wanted to fill the space with talk about the few times he'd seen snow in the past, but a wave of tiredness was hitting him rapidly. For once the best choice seemed simply to remain silent. He was sure Stein would appreciate it.

His eyelids began to feel heavy as he stared at the continuous rain of white flakes that left the room feeling small and isolated, and he realized he was no longer focusing on holding the mug. He swallowed down the last of the cooling liquid and then reached to set the mug down on Stein's nightstand. He knew he shouldn't doze off sitting in the meister's bed, especially since he should still be watching him to make sure his health wasn't in jeopardy. But the snowfall was hypnotic, and coupled with the sugar and the rising warmth from the blankets, and probably an adrenaline crash, it was suddenly very hard to keep his eyes open.

"It's pretty."

Spirit blinked and glanced down, surprised to hear the quiet voice. Stein was watching the unusual weather, but then looked up to meet his eyes again. His expression was still curious and seemed more relaxed somehow. The usual, calculating tension was absent from his jaw and forehead, and his green-eyed gaze—brighter now—slowly slid back to the window when Spirit didn't say anything.

Spirit was the one to stare now, noticing that Stein looked less tense overall. Only his head and shoulders were visible above the blankets, but he wasn't holding himself coiled up anymore the way he so often did, like a snake ready to strike. An ease that Spirit wasn't sure he'd ever before seen in the boy had settled over him, and he looked far more his young age as he looked out the window, his thoughts apparently having drifted back to scientific interests rather than being upset with the weapon.

"Yeah," Spirit said.

Stein glanced up briefly, as if expecting more, then returned his gaze to the snowfall. And then, wide-eyed and curious as he appeared staring out at the world of white, he yawned.

Spirit slowly let his head rest against the wall again as he watched his meister, and he smiled.

#soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #franken stein #spirit albarn #CrossStitch #steinspirit #spiritstein #stein x spirit #spirit x stein #stein #spirit #death scythe #they are babies in this one #i love them as babies #cold nights warm hearts #wild heart

[cheerfullycatholic]

Who's gonna get whacked by the snowstorm? It's supposed to get me the next two days and I'm kinda excited tbh 👀

ARE Y'ALL PREPARED?!

#my animals all should be okay #im just a bit worried about the half wild chickens who wont let me put them in the coop #or even the garage #i know theyll be ok with the cold im just worried about how deep the snow will be #ill have to keep up on making paths for them #other than that #i have enough animal and people food to last awhile and i have extra straw in case someone needs more #also got ten gallons each of diesel and gas #lots of blankets medical supplies board games #oh dang i should make sure my portable phone charger is charged #i really need to get a solar charger #the thing im worried about most is if the power goes out #we have a generator but if we can keep the house warm during the day we might turn it off at night #and i know its stupid but i have anxiety and nighttime is really hard for me #especially in pitch black silence #i dont like the way my fear and anxiety makes my heart feel #anyway #ill stop rambling now #yall are in my prayers #please pray for us

[daincrediblegg]

what's ur ultimate comfort food?

Pasta. I make it every week. But specifically I make this sauce that is kindof of my own creation but is loosely based off penne alla vodka, except I don’t throw it in the oven: I fry up some sausage (mckenzie sweet italian, broken up into bite sized pieces) in a little bit of garlic olive oil (or minced garlic plus olive oil) and then upend a jar of vodka sauce (boves) onto it once it’s nice and crisp and then grate some grana padano and put some heaping handfulls into the sauce and then garnish with more cheese when it’s done. Works with just about any pasta but cappelini, penne, or any kind of spirals will work really well with it

#and using whole jars and a whole package of sausage will leave plenty of leftover sauce and it just as good reheated as it is fresh #genuinely. my favorite thing in the world #best on rainy days and cold winter nights. it just warms the cockels of my heart

[tame-a-messenger]

No offense to the other accounts I follow on here, but I think you’re by far my favorite one. I love sending in asks and I of course don’t know you personally but you seem like a nice person and we share the same love for our duo. So thank you for making this account and being awesome. I hope you’re having a great day/night while reading this 🫶

:D YOU, YOU ARE SO FUCKING SWEET.

I can't even start to say how much being in this community has made my cup so full. I had no idea people were going to be so sweet and kind about a silly little blog like this. I thought I'd have to fight off people making things out of nothing and being weird, but EVERYONE and I mean that, has been SO FUCKING NICE.

YOU ARE SO WELCOME. AND THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE. You guys give me somewhere to put my thoughts so I don't think I'm insane <3 (and you guys know you're not delusional either, and I think that's beautiful <3)

#I hope your pillows are cold on both sides Anon <3 #and that all your meals are warm and delicious <3 #my heart really is so full #i love being here with yall #<3 #goodmorning/night/afternoon to you too Anon<3 #You guys (as always <3) are so fucking awesome

[cuteniaarts]

In another world, fate was just a little bit kinder

#my art #artists on tumblr #the legend of korra #original characters #sotrl midori #sotrl haya #seeds of the red lotus #look I was feeling extremely emotional recently. and thought about how different life would be for my OCs if Haya was good #and I'm a sucker for AUs like that. it's spiritually healing. so of course I had to draw something for it #I originally wanted to draw a companion piece for suiren too but then thought it was just rehashing the idea #and I draw Suiren a lot already anyways so decided to just take the excuse to draw adorable little Midori and run with it #I have quite a few thoughts about an AU like this too. it starts out like sotrl does. haya gives them the cold shoulder and is kinda mean #but then the news of the rl's imprisonment reach gaoling. haya is shellshocked at first. distances herself and sends the girls to their room #pretends she can't hear the crying. but really she wants to cry too because as estranged as they are. ghazan is still her little brother #she indulges late that night after she think the girls are asleep. deep buried trauma from losing her parents resurfaces #but then she hears footsteps behind her. Midori is awake. haya wants to be angry at first but finds she has no energy to #they talk a little. the warm glow of candlelight catches midori's eyes and their grey shade turns gold. she looks so much like him #haya realises Midori is even younger than ghazan was when they lost their parents. suiren is half the age haya herself was #no one cared for her and ghazan back then. she won't let history repeat itself #so she reaches for midori. heart skipping a beat when she lights up slightly. and takes her into her arms #holds her close as midori hugs her back. if she closes her eyes it almost feels like she’s 14 again. holding her brother #she swears then that she’ll be as good of a guardian to these girls as she can so they don’t end up like their parents did. like haya did #it’s a long road to unlearn her bitterness but she tries her best. it’s easier with midori who soaks in affection like a sponge #Midori’s happiness is infectious. with suiren it’s much more difficult bc the prejudice Haya holds against the swamp are still there #as is the hatred for their mother. it isn’t until the townspeople start calling Suiren a swamp rat does haya snap #she no longer cares about getting alienated from the community that barely welcomed her anyway. she will defend her niece from them all #it’s the first time she calls suiren her niece. they talk too and Haya apologises for favouring Midori and starts working on fixing it #their life together isn’t perfect. the townspeople side eye them. they can’t afford bending teachers. Haya still has to bite her tongue #but it’s so much better than what could have been had Haya let her pain consume her and started to take it out on the girls. they’re happy #I have so much more to say and theorise about when it comes to this au but alas. tag limits are a thing. so I’m leaving this here

[gluecookie]

I saw the fairy queen at the opera today and my god they really went for titania/bottom. They had so much chemistry in this production I am screaming

#The fairy queen #They didn't have to go so hard but they did and that warms my cold heart #Also Titania's Aria was so good. Even better on stage than the studio recording #a midsummer night's dream #Henry Purcell

[vanillabat99]

My legs (mostly my thighs and hips) are hurting pretty bad right now. They've been hurting a little bit throughout the week, but it's really bad tonight. I just took some acetaminophen but I don't have high hopes of it doing anything, it rarely does. I'm hoping this passes and doesn't become my new normal ._.

#every time things get worse i worry they will be like that forever #i miss my prescription painkillers 😭 #they gave me ulcers so i cant take them anymore but nothing else works :(( #voltaren hurts to apply because it is cold and idk how to warm it up beforehand and it also doesnt really do much for me either ._. #ive also been having a migraine on and off all week 😭 #now that the barbie hype has left my body. all i have is the agonies. woagh. #idk if i can do dance on tuesday if this keeps up :( #i see my doc soon to go over my (STILL OCCURING AND UNDIAGNOSED) heart problems. #hopefully she has good news about the cardiology referral. its been months of silence and theyve already rejected me once ._. #ive had a rough week. even though i live with my family i dont get a lot of help because they are all busy all the time #and i dont qualify for home care. ive tried. #im so exhausted physically and emotionally. i dont even care if im sick forever. i just want help ._. #also my family has gotten lax about masking and staying home and ive been sick for weeks. just a general sick. not covid or even a cold. #im so tired ._. #it is 4am so it might be the late night blues but man. its rough rn. #batty blogging #text

[ipessimist1]

Oh Chai

Oh Chai, you cleanse this soul. Your warmth rushes through this body on the way to this frozen heart. So sweet you are, I need you every night. Oh Chai, it's you that makes me feel alright.

#tea #drink #warm #chai #latte #soul #souls #body #warmth #winter #night #nights #cold #heart #hearts #brozen #sweet #sugar #cute #poem #poems #poetry #writing #mine #spilled ink

[noxtivagus]

hmm

#tbd #just thinking a bit before i sleep #today was mostly a good day but. i think i'm still tired yeah i feel like disappearing #just. sit by the sand n watch the waves. lose myself in the sight n the sound n #just sit there until the sun comes up n #thought abt it n i haven't been doing well at all lately but fiction's been a great comfort. n. stuff online in general like my friends her #i think that nightmare i had of being completely replaced n forgotten hurt me more than i thought. burying the pain was a mistake but i #don't want to make others worry #n.. that feeling of worthlessness n regret n feeling lost n utterly confused. forgetting myself n everything #peaked 2 nights ago. when i.. nah when i accidentally did That yeah #i really don't want to think about it anymore but i know it isn't smth i shld just keep to myself but #it.. haunts me so much. whether i reach out or not it'll hurt. n i'm willing to just shoulder the pain alone. i'm used to it anyways #n i'm so confused bcs despite my disposition or wtvr when it comes to reality. fiction tells me a different story #both are truths. they can coexist n they do but #goddamn i don't want to think of it anymore. i just want to.. live in that moment forever #those moments. under the starry sky. the cold night that warmed my heart or #the sight of the dawn this morning. the moon n the horizon. the clouds yonder n #dusk earlier as well. the wonder i felt for life as a whole; a feeling i missed all too dearly #time's going by far too fast. listening to edge of dawn is making me emotional rn oh my god #december's nearly over. the year is. so much is on the horizon n i'm both simultaneously anticipant & hesitant to face it all #it's a bittersweet feeling when you're living n going about your day like i've been recently but it feels like a dream #n soon i'll wake up. the gentle rays of the early morning sun will quickly turn into scorching heat. n then #i'm tired of writing even though i cld add more to that but hmm. the cycle goes on n on. morning then night then the morrow comes once more #until a point where all these days accumulate n.. yeah #yk what i'll just go to sleep instead. i'll just do more tmrrw n. yeah. i'll try to stop or distract myself before these thoughts get #too much like two nights ago or smth. i'll try to sleep peacefully tonight #distract myself from some aspects of reality in just this moment temporarily. #despite how tired i am i'm still so hesitant to rest n sleep but i'll push myself to do it now. gn. i'll just do more tomorrow

[bcbdrums]

Cadenza

A Soul Eater fanfic. Read on: AO3 | FFn

Fourth in a series of 31 prompt-based one-shots. Prompts from this list.

---------

A/N: Soul needs to bond with Maka's dad. Just saying. Anime-verse, post-canon. My headcanon is that the room with the piano and pictures on the wall we see in episodes 1 and 51 is actually an art gallery somewhere in the academy. 4. “Hold fast to dreams for when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.” --Langston Hughes

Sunlight poured warm and bright through the gallery's picture windows like a curtain, bathing the room in gold. Just like any dawn, it served to bring a sense of freshness and rebirth to the surroundings and a feeling of hope for better things.

It should have been inspiring.

It was not.

Soul stared at the dust that floated through the yellow rays as he sat in the one part of the room untouched by the sun's warmth, the piano next to the wall still in shadow.

He looked down at the keys, pristine and unmarred even by fingerprints — a testament to the academy's custodial staff, he supposed. But, he also rarely heard of the instrument being played.

He set his hands in a familiar pattern, letting them rest upon the smooth ivory, but he didn't play. Countless songs were at his fingertips, but his soul denied each of them. Whatever it was he was yearning for that had brought him back to the rarely-used room, he couldn't identify it to bring it out.

And so he sat unsatisfied, letting memories of the past float through his mind like the dust in the sun and simply staring down at familiar black and white, a small comfort in and of itself even if it couldn't resolve whatever had his soul in such a twist.

"I’d expected to hear something by now."

Soul startled upright at the unexpected intrusion.

“D-Death Scythe!” he exclaimed, the name coming out less respectful and more accusatory, which only added to his sudden panic.

Outside of the collective safety of the classroom and without his meister, Lord Death’s second in command suddenly seemed very intimidating. Not that it stopped Soul's cocky tongue.

“How did you know I was down here!?”

“I saw you heading this way. And the art gallery isn’t exactly a popular student hangout,” was the man's soft reply.

Soul slowly lowered himself back down on the piano bench, seeking that small familiarity for protection as the tall man slowly approached, hands in his pockets and a gentle smile on his face.

“I was looking forward to listening. Your playing is practically legendary,” the death weapon continued, stopping just behind the hinge of the grand piano’s lid and setting a hand on the smooth, black surface.

“Huh?” Soul replied, his initial panic being replaced by confusion. “You must be thinking of Kilik, or someone else.”

“I think Maka talked for at least an hour about you and the piece you played after you two became partners,” Death Scythe continued. He paused and glanced toward the windows, the light still streaming in and quickly increasing the ambient temperature of the room. Or maybe that was just Soul’s nerves getting the better of him. “That’s a night I’ll never forget.”

'Neither will I,' Soul thought, but he wasn’t about to ask the man what had caused his eyes to grow misty and stolen the smile from his face. But before he could fumble out another response, the red-haired man had turned back toward him.

“So how about it? What can you play?”

Put on the spot, Soul wasn’t sure if he should show off, flee, or say something insubordinate. But Death Scythe’s comment about Maka talking about his playing for over an hour had caused the roller coaster of his thoughts to flatline.

She truly thought that much of it? Granted, she was wholly uneducated and slightly tone deaf when it came to serious music, but what he had chosen to play for her—in fact, what had been designed to put her off—had captivated her that much?

Death Scythe was still waiting, his expression calm but his eyes encouraging. Soul thought for another moment and then adjusted the placement of his fingers over the keys. 'Show off,' was what his racing mind kept repeating, and his fingers began flying over the keys in long-practiced patterns, filling the room with boisterous rhythms and jolly harmonies.

He didn't look up, focused on accuracy for something he hadn't touched in years, but he could peripherally see the expression on the man's face. He was impressed, and Soul smirked as he arrived at a cadence where he could stop. He wasn't about to play an entire sonata on the spot, no matter who the audience was.

When Soul finally looked up in victorious satisfaction, the death weapon lifted his hands and offered soft but affirming applause.

"You're very good," was the man's comment after several honoring claps. The words were genuine, Soul knew, but he suddenly had the feeling of being exposed—the way he used to feel during a lesson when he hadn't practiced beforehand and knew his teacher would be able to tell. Sure enough, the proof came out in Death Scythe's next words. "But that isn't what you played for Maka."

Soul wanted to snip at the man for his intrusion and for his assumptions. And he knew it would take the slightest thing—either an insult to his musical intelligence, or, it was past ten in the morning so shouldn't he be at the bar already?—to send the red-haired man spluttering angrily away. But, he found his mouth had gone dry.

As the tall man stepped around the instrument to hover over his shoulder Soul suddenly realized he wasn't seeing him as a death weapon, but as Maka's father. A man who despite flaws that could be listed from sunup to sundown (in his meister's opinion, at least) was still skilled, intelligent, and ultimately someone whose approval mattered to Soul.

"I used to play guitar, you know," Death Scythe said, reaching down to set a hand on the keys. Soul leaned away from the man's proximity and looked up at his slightly furrowed brow, where it was clear he was trying to recall something.

"What kind?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Electric. Les Paul."

Soul's brow rose.

"It's still in my closet somewhere. Haven't touched it since...I was younger than you," the man continued, pursing his lips with a small hum of nostalgia.

The younger weapon glanced between the man's face and his hand still resting on the keys not far from where Soul's had been, but he'd tucked his hands into his lap when the man came near.

"Why'd you stop playing?" he asked, unable to help himself.

Death Scythe shrugged lightly. "Got busy. Chasing souls, chasing after my meister, chasing..."

He trailed off, and Soul mentally finished with the likely demeaning comment of 'tail,' but his curiosity had been piqued now and to offend Maka's dad wouldn't get him any real answers as to why the man had followed him down to the gallery.

Before he could think of something else to say, a single chord rang through the room. It was slowly followed by another, and another. There was no added rhythm, each chord lasting a slow four counts, but it was clear almost immediately that it wasn't that type of piece as Death Scythe played. The progression was complex, having started in happy major but moving quickly to minor and drawing the tension out, approaching resolution but taking surprising turn after turn away from it. Soul glanced away from where he was memorizing the chords to the man's face, his eyes only half-watching what he was doing as they had glazed over, clearly recalling something. And whatever was on his mind, Soul knew it wasn't music theory.

"So you play piano too?" Soul asked, though he could tell from the uncertainty of the man's movements despite the lack of errors that this wasn't an instrument he had much experience with.

Death Scythe didn't reply immediately, hesitating as he seemed to struggle to recall something, and then brought his own impromptu performance to a conclusion with the expected major chord. But everything that had come before it had left the sunlit air with a feeling of melancholy.

The man finally straightened up and took a step away and back out of Soul's personal space, for which the teen was grateful.

"No, just when I would write... To hear the song with a different sound, to see if it was really going where I wanted it to."

Soul's chest was burning with curiosity now, despite the fact that this was Maka's hated, cheating father standing next to him. Had he written the haunting song he'd just played? What was its meaning? How many other songs had he written? And was that guitar in his closet still in fair condition?

Death Scythe moved back to where he'd stood before by the piano lid's hinge, in the position a teacher might occupy. Soul felt the familiar unease of being scrutinized again, but he didn't shrink from it. His expression was open now, watching the older, more experienced scythe and waiting. What for though, he wasn't sure.

"We never had to fight the kishin itself in my day," Death Scythe began, "but we certainly had our share of defining battles."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Soul couldn't help but quip. He doubted the older weapon had ever dealt with anything quite as painful or terrifying as the blast of the kishin's weapon.

Of course, Soul recalled then with a flash of guilt...the man had lived through exactly that.

"Entire covens of witches. Rogue wizards. Immortal monsters who couldn't hardly sustain damage let alone die," Death Scythe reminisced, glancing out the window as his expression fell to stone.

Soul bit the inside of his cheek. Despite having faced and ultimately helping Maka win against the kishin, there was something too real and ominous in what Death Scythe had said. There was still madness and evil roaming the world, and he couldn't forget his duty just because they'd been victorious against one extremely large threat.

Soul began to mentally pack away the twisting confusion in his chest that had led him to the gallery that morning. His own problems were nothing in comparison to his responsibilities to Maka, or to Lord Death and the rest of the world.

"She doesn't love you because you're close to becoming a death weapon, you know."

Soul's thoughts were arrested again, every one of them floating away like the dust in the sunbeams as his throat constricted.

'What?'

Death Scythe was looking at him again, the hardness to his eyes having softened but not to the place it was when the man had entered the gallery. He didn't speak again, simply staring at him out of the wisdom of experience that was reflected in the clear, teal depths of his eyes, suddenly extremely visible despite the curtain of red hair that was designed to hide them.

When Soul remembered to breathe, he leapt to insubordination as a defense. Because talking about Maka in that way wasn't something Soul ever wanted to do with the older scythe.

"Psht, and what would you know about love?" he retorted cockily.

Death Scythe's expression only softened further, and Soul balled his sweaty hands under the piano in unease. No one ever looked at him the way the man was now, except perhaps Maka, and it was unsettling. As if he could somehow see through him even lacking soul perception, see his thoughts and insecurities and everything in his life that had his wavelength pulsing erratically as he wondered who he was and who he was supposed to be.

Death Scythe shifted to lean against the piano and inhaled slowly. His gaze on Soul clarified in seriousness. His voice remained low and soft as he answered, as it had with every word he'd spoken.

"I know that in the lives we lead as weapons, we're incomplete without it. We belong in the hands of a meister, and that relationship in itself is part of what defines us. Trying to make it on our own, or out of sync with them...it won't work. We'll end up losing ourselves if we don't...allow ourselves to accept love. And give it in return. Because the trust that comes in love is the foundation of a successful weapon-meister partnership."

Soul ran over the words in his mind, processed them... He knew they were true. But rebellion still won out.

"And I'll say it again... What would you know about it?"

Soul didn't like how Death Scythe had seen through him so clearly, to the questions that had haunted him ever since the kishin's defeat as life had slowly begun returning to normal. But, what was normal anymore? His soul had been stirring ever since that day with questions he couldn't even put to words, but hearing one of them spelled out so clearly was a bit more than the young scythe could handle in the moment.

Just who was he to Maka now, after everything?

Death Scythe's response to the dig against him was to hum softly in acknowledgement, his gaze lowering to the floor. But the small, thoughtful smile he wore remained.

He turned back to the window, and Soul noticed the brilliance was fading from the sun's rays. He couldn't see the dust floating in the air as clearly anymore.

"You're still very young."

"Hey—"

"And I don't want you to make any of the mistakes that I made."

This gave Soul pause. He watched in silence as the death weapon's smile began to fade to seriousness again, and he wondered... This was Maka's father. A victim of tabloid fodder for over a decade, an unashamed alcoholic and flirt, an utter failure in domestic life...and the death scythe of death scythes. The way he'd always viewed the man, through Maka's eyes, suddenly merged with the man who had taken that first nearly-fatal blow from the kishin, standing bravely with Lord Death between madness and the rest of the world.

Spirit Albarn turned from the window, piercing Soul with his clear, teal gaze once more. Crimson stared back, open and almost childlike in the hope Soul suddenly found he needed.

"Don't let what you think you need to be...become so important that you lose your soul."

The younger scythe was pierced by the words as well as the gaze, again struck by how the man he'd never wanted to respect had seen straight through him. Curiosity brimmed at the back of his mind, about what could have happened to lead the man astray from the foundation of love he had so aptly named as vital to a weapon's relationship to their meister. But he ignored it, swallowing slowly as he let his grip on nothing fade, his gaze falling to his hands as he spoke.

"What if...I'm not sure I even have the key to my soul anymore?"

Death Scythe's expression fought then between impassivity and a grimace, the man glancing down as the latter slowly won, and Soul had the overwhelming impression of seeing Maka's father once again and not the death weapon.

"Then...you look to your meister. And h— She'll...know where to find it. If you trust her."

The older man pursed his lips and seemed to force away whatever discomfort he felt and then looked back at the teen with knowing, pressing eyes. Soul felt his mouth had gone dry again as he attempted to process what in essence was permission and in fact encouragement from the man to love his daughter.

"So. Soul Eater..."

The red-haired man nodded toward the piano, his soft, parental smile returning as he straightened up from where he'd leaned against the instrument.

Soul looked down. He brought his hands back to the keys and moved them into another pattern, anticipating. They were still sweating, but not for fear of being judged on a mistake.

It all started with one terrifying chord.  And after taking a deep breath, he let it resound through the room—through his fingers, through the floor, feeling the vibrations through his bones until the power faded. And then, a single repeated note that increased in speed until it finally climbed.

He let everything fade. The warmth and radiance of the sunlight around him, the gnawing in his chest of something yearned for and unsatisfied, and Maka's father watching him less than two feet away. He let himself slip into the music, ignoring the constraints of tempo and rhythm as he alternated between precision and recklessness, simply playing as his soul demanded.

And through playing... Not for his family, not for aid in battle, and not even for Maka... He felt the beginnings of peace; a settling of his wavelength into the same frequencies vibrating out of the strings as he played for him for the first time in perhaps years.

And that, he finally realized, was what was missing. Ever since the crisis of the kishin's escape, he had spent every part of himself on being what everyone else and especially Maka needed. It was in his nature as a weapon. But as he felt the confusion in his heart lessen, he was forced to admit that Death Scythe was right.

He couldn't continue being everything for Maka, and everyone else, if it all ended with giving every part of himself away. And with all he had learned in his short years at the academy, he realized he was ready at last to find himself again.

These thoughts sent more peace through his wavelength as he let the song almost play him, responding to it as much as he was directing it—the push and pull of the tempo, the power and gentleness of the dynamics, everything in his soul pouring out through his fingers in the way he had always desired but felt he couldn't permit himself to express.

As he let the newfound freedom bring rest to his soul, he suddenly understood just how right Death Scythe was. The passion he felt to be what his meister needed was no longer a pressure, nor carried fear of failure. It was light within him, and he knew...if he continued this pursuit of his own soul—the reason he'd joined the academy to begin with—then he could truly be the weapon partner she deserved.

The revelations washed over Soul as he played the final chord of the song with cathartic release. And he didn't want it to be over. He wanted to keep playing, to let his wavelength spill out in the way he'd first learned before he'd ever discovered his weapon blood, and relearn himself in the way that he never wanted anyone to know was so precious to him. But before he did that, he knew reluctantly that a thank you was in order. He lifted his gaze from the keys.

"Hey—"

Soul blinked at an empty room. Death Scythe was gone, and the suns rays had shifted, lighting up the ivory in an almost golden aura and leaving him feeling empowered, his soul practically vibrating in readiness.

"Hmm," he huffed lightly as one corner of his mouth curled upward just enough to reveal a toothy grin. He shifted his hands on the keys and began another song, his soul rising with the music like the sun.

#soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #soul evans #spirit albarn #death scythe #soul eater evans #spirit #cold nights warm hearts #fanfiction #if you squint there's a Stein mention

[the-kipsabian]

im home, im cold as fuck but im free so im gonna have coffee and watch the main event of rampage <3

#i deserve my dose of kip ive done so much today oof #he'll warm my cold dead heart lol #night is an absolute mess on main

[ofmusingsxandmayhem]

Rick: Z, can you please stop stealing all my shirts?

Zara: It's not stealing, babe, it's called liberating.

Rick: Well, can you stop liberating them? I'm gonna have none left to wear.

Zara: ...

Rick: ...

Zara: Now you're getting it.

Rick: (¬_¬)

Zara: ¯\_(���)_/¯

#wxrzxne #wxrzxne || rick flag #zara hudson || musings #cold nights and warm hearts || zara and rick

[screampied]

❛ TOO SWEET! ❜

geto, toji, gojo, nanami, choso. jjk men who can’t get enough of your sweet taste ‘& becomes needy for your touch.

total wc. 3.0k

warnings. fem!reader, aphrodisiacs, whiney men, unprotected sex, mating press, cowgirl, doggystyle, nipple play, eating out through your panties, dry humping, praise

an. request thank yew aiii, using this req as an excuse to make the jjk men whiney.

CHOSO ☆ KAMO

“baby w-wait,” he swallows, and choso’s panting heavily. heaving practically…

he just couldn’t keep his hands off you — ever since he told you in that soft, shaky red-handed voice that he ‘accidentally’ swallowed and eaten your freshly new bought sugary-coated sweets. “i feel so…” he murmurs, spinning you around before planting a kiss on your neck, then another, then another. “i need you. y-you smell sweeter than usual.”

“oh..is it that bad?” you stare up at him, a single eyebrow of yours raises, and he whimpers. you’re teasing him. the pout that curls down his lip is just adorable.

choso doesn’t give you a answer. he’s so starved of your wanted touch, all he does is drag a few inelegant awkward steps towards you, bringing you into a deep kiss.

choso cups your face with his big hands, his tongue swipes against yours and he backs you up against the glass cold refrigerator door.

he lets off a delicious moan inside your mouth and you gasp, feeling him spread your legs apart with his knee and your own whimper slips out as he’s kissing you. his body heat against yours was so warm, and every few seconds he broke away to repeat your name underneath his breath his shaky needy whispers. oh… maybe..

it really was that bad…

“are you sure?” you faltered with a shy smile, massaging the nape of your neck with your fingers. choso sat on the bed, his face remained flustered and plastered which nothing but whole heartedly lust and thirst. “this’ll help you um..stop feeling all….you know.”

“baby, yes—please,” he whines, his eyes plead. choso’s entire body felt so hot-tempered, warm.

it was cute seeing him grow frustrated, yet he was still as whiney as always, pink lips of his pursing and pouting as you teasingly and slowly made your way to sit on his face. “t-thank you, thank y—mph..”

your panties were still on but choso could care less, as you plopped down gently on his face — he couldn’t take it.

one single stripe lick between the crevices of your underwear was enough to make you moan out his name, hovering over him while giving him that same timid gaze. “c’mon. i need this, need you,” he’d speak, his own breath was racing against itself, jittery.

he gives your thighs a quick pry with his right hand, spreading your legs and you moan as he’s literally eating you out through your laced panties.

“ride my nose, baby. pleasepleaseplease. wanna savor my pretty girl’s—” and he pauses to breathe, almost forgetting to before moaning out. “..pussy.”

“c-choso..” you panted, starting to ride against his nose. he looked so pretty and submissive underneath you, a smile never leaving his lips as you were continuously starting to cover the lower half of his chin with your sweet slick. “fuck, fuck.”

his tongue was sloppy, never ending with the way it slurps your folds up. teasing your puffy clit with numerous sucks, his head’s swiftly moving and jerking as your hips moved and moved against him. choso reaches down to rub against the brick hard bulge building up in his shorts and he whines.

“c-can i touch myself?” he whimpers, and your heart swoons at him even asking. “….god, i’m so hot for you, baby. you make me so dirty. your taste… ‘s doin' this to me. just.. wanna please you, all night long baby.”

SUGURU ☆ GETO

“m' serious, princess,” geto mutters, gripping onto your shoulders. he looked like he’d just came back from his hourly workout. he’s staring you dead in the eyes, some strands of long black hair sticking to his forehead, and it appears as if he’s nearly out of breath. “i…ate your uh candy. but it’s not like you labeled it or anyt-”

geto freezes for a moment. he grows dramatically stiff, before staring down at his pants then at you. “shit.”

“…sugu, are you hard?” you giggled.

and oh, he grows so embarrassed. geto’s facial expression turns into a cute scowl, his ears grows hot the more he stares at you—and indeed he is.

geto’s boner was sort of hard to ignore. him wearing grey sweats didn’t make things easier either.

“can..can you help me or not? y’don’t know how painful this…is,” he huffs out and seconds later after you comply with a sweet little ‘okay’ he’s got you sprawled out all pretty on the bed. “more hornier than u-usual..” he swallows, leaning in to plant kisses straight down your chest to your stomach before he slides your panties off.

you stared at geto, and he licks his lips, panting. his chest heaved back and forth and he’s sweating a bit, he’s so turned on he feels so hot once he’s easing his way inside your pussy with his dick.

“m-mhm,” he bites his lip, keeping one hand resting on your tummy. you never heard him this whiney before and it was so cute. he doesn’t wanna rush but he can’t help it but start to create a pace with his hips. you moaned once he leaned into you, whining in his low voice, “kiss me, please. kiss me, princess.”

he was so thick. you felt him everywhere, his thrusts were so sloppy against you. more sloppier than usual but he was so driven.

his mind raced and his heart heated ten times faster than it regularly does.

“come here, baby.” you playfully smiled, moving his long dancing hair strands from his face and he deeply kissed you with tongue. hearing you say ‘baby’ got him more turned on.

the candy, your taste, and just your smooth sweet voice alone was gonna be the death of him.

“okay, okay…” he pants, you wrap your arms around him as his body weight lightly lingers against your chest. he’s so sensitive, warm as he leans in to kiss you for a second time.

it’s more quick and steamy. your tongue collides against his and you taste the sweet tang of the intoxicated candy residing on his tongue. you moaned at his hips smacking against yours at such rhythm. geto lets off a soft whiney purr at the way you comb a hand through his hair.

his lips were connected to yours for what seemed like forever. his warmth radiates against your skin as his body rocks against you.

“so sweet,” he murmurs, breaking away for a brief moment, his cock taps against your most sensitive bits and you whine. geto’s gentle but can’t help but be a bit crazy with thrusts, his strokes that made you dizzy. “i-i need more,” he huffs out, kissing the side of your mouth, then your neck, then your chest.

geto’s still huffing and puffing as he’s inside of you—each stinging slap he creates with his hips, you run into him and he moans, raising your right leg up, the leg that was wrapped around his waist to lick a long stripe up it while keeping direct eye contact. “can’t get enough.. ‘n it’s all your damn fault, princess.”

NANAMI ☆ KENTO

“sweetheart..”

is all your boyfriend says. you’re bent over the counter, and he pauses, you slip off a moan as nanami’s pressed up against you. his voice sounds lower than usual, raspy and somewhat whiney..? he intakes a breath before lifting the fabric of your sundress up. “i don’t want you to..see me like this.”

“kento, baby,” you shyly smile, not even facing him. “i told you yesterday not to eat the candy. the side effects are um…strong.”

with one hand, nanami tugs on his tie back and forth, he’s hot. “i’m aware of that now,” he grunts and you let off a gasp, feeling his hard boner rub against your ass. he grabs onto your waist and starts to make you grind your ass against him and he swears underneath his breath.

“fuck me,” he mutters in frustration. “forgive me, s-sweetheart but i just…i really wanna take you right here over this counter. restrain your cute hands with my tie and..”

“what’s stopping you then?” you teased.

and that was all it took nanami couldn’t hold back anymore, the lust overtook him and it was too strong. your cloying fragrance alone had him so tipsy. you’re perfectly arched over the sleek shiny, granite kitchen counter. nanami’s ruthless with his hits against your core. “k-kento..”

you’d moan out, your own hands pinned against your back with the neatly tie restraining your wrists, not too tight but just enough. you’re just bent over with the most perfect arch.

he’s so warm as he sloppily thrusts against you, again and again. his tip brushes against between your folds and you whimper out from how good he’s hitting you from behind. he’s got an exquisite tempo of roughness but also very gentle.

nanami grunts with the way your ass kisses against him each time. he purposely grows quiet to hear the hard hits, yanking on your pretty sundress. “jus’ like that, baby,” he’d moan out, barely able to contain himself. “throw yourself back…against me, jus’ like that…goddamn, girl.”

you were hunched over, wrists still restrained with his striped tie, a good grip of you as you’re being pounded ruthlessly against the counter. he’s never felt this horny and aroused before, hot and cold describes his heat and he groans at the way you move against him.

his dick reached you in each crevice, each spot with such ease you’re whining. you covered his base with your slick, he gets so hard from the recoil the more he stares down. nanami eyes the way the pretty sundress you wore—the one he bought you for valentine’s day, was all wrinkled and lazily pulled up to your waist. “s-so good, kento. more..”

“good, want you to feel good,” he rasps, caressing your bare ass once more. once his fat tip reaches your g-spot with a single hit you choke out his name and it sounds so pretty. “arch that pretty back just a more for me, pretty.”

you do and he gives you a soft encouraging spank, just to hear you whimper out kentooo. it drives him crazy, you drive him crazy—he’s so obsessed with the way your ass jerks back against him.

one swift smack and you moan, he slides a tongue across his lip, grunting at the way the recoil just bounces against him. he’s so dizzy, holding on to your hips, a firm grip and making you move back and forth before he starts panting.

“a little more, sweet girl,” and you do, moaning once his hefty base smacks against your ass. he starts to get a bit whiney, despite his low pitched voice, he’s completely losing composure. “all the way down, bend for me….y-yeah,” he stutters, and you get shivers, feeling nanami teasingly run two fingers down your spine.

“fuck, you’re gonna milk me, honey. make a…damn mess out of me.” and you do—because not even moments later, nanami ends up spraying thin ropes of of his cum all over your pussy, painting it like a canvas. “got me all messy just for you, p-princess.”

FUSHIGURO ☆ TOJI

toji’s hungry ass genuinely doesn’t care. 

the moment he spots a pocket-sized, untouched velvet box of tasty sweets with cute neat handwritten of a sharply that wrote ‘DO NOT EAT ME!!” he pays no mind.

eating it, savoring the rich taste of caramel and cinnamon. he’d probably eat in front of you just to spite you.

yet, the last thing you’d expect would be to return home to a needy whiny toji. 

“hey…girl,” you hear from behind you. he sounds worn out, as if he’d run a marathon.

he greets you with an awkward hug, which is more so just him feeling on your ass, his boner poking against your leg and he intakes your sweet scent before grunting into your neck.

“i…i ate the fucking candy. and all of a sudden you smell sweeter than..than usual and, shit.” he sighs, feeling your soft lips kiss the side of his mouth, his scar. “look. i just..i need you, bad,” and he sounds embarrassed, not even presenting you eye contact. 

his eyes hide underneath his long uncut strands before he continues, picking you up while gripping down on your thighs. “but..maybe this’ll fuckin’ help..”

and by that…he means putting you in a simple mating press, toji’s stuffing you full of cock, he’s doing more moaning than you which is surprising.

his weight that lodges over your pussy just smacks against you each and everytime. he’s treating you like a rag doll basically. you’re just dumbly being stuffed full of inches, holding onto his beefy arms while he’s thrusting in and out, smack after smack it makes your ears ring.

“mhm yeah baby—girl,” he’d choke out, and you’re squeezing down on him so tight it makes his jaw clench. “so damn…hot, fuck i need more…gotta overflow this pussy s’good it’s drippin’ out.” and you whimper at him clamping down on you.

his thrusts became so nasty and sloppy, barely any rhythm. 

toji looks so pretty when he’s needy. deranged, but pretty. he’s sweating a bit, beads race down the sides of his forehead, toned muscles were tense, including his back muscles. yet he blinks twice again.

slowing his strokes just a bit before groaning. “f-fuck, nasty bitch y’er tryna milk m-me?” and he whines—a gasp wretching from his mouth before that’s when toji realizes. 

he came early.

toji stares at you, panting heavily, bottom lip quivering as he’s still got you in a mean mating press. your legs were just dumbly in the air, twitching and you moaned at feeling his cum trickle down your slit, oozing out of you.

“toji baby, did you just whine?” you teased, heaving yourself. and toji showcases a glare, bringing a swift spank towards your pussy and you moan. 

“say…say that shit again…” he murmurs, all out of breath. he sits up, still stuffed deep inside you, his thick sheeny triceps flexed as he had them pressed against the sides of you.

“say what?”

he’s so embarrassed—a sheepish expression washes over him, tips of his ears were fuming with hotness before he grumbles, pulling out just to avert his eyes towards your messy pussy. “fuckin’….call me…baby again...please.”

“call you baby, yeah?” you teased, and he glares, a cute scowl on his face

“…you heard me, whore.”

GOJO ☆ SATORU

“hey, you’re back,” he utters, hugging you from behind. he smells so good—peppering your neck with a variety of chaste kisses, he sounds a bit shaken up and he’s far more clingy than usual.

the minute you hug turn around to hug him, softly running a finger down his undercut he lets off a moan. “y-your touch. ‘s been so long since-”

“toru i was only gone for three hours,” you mumbled, and he stared at you.

his entire face was flushed, his usual fluffy and well was all in his face. messy, ruffled, and he was sweating just a bit.

“why-” then you pause, moving your eyes towards the night stand to see the empty wrappers of candy scattered everywhere. “you- did you eat those?”

“no,” he immediately says, with a swift head shake, before letting off an ashamed, “yes.. i couldn’t help it. i thought you were just joking about the um…horniness.. but baby, i-i need you on top of me.”

he was so desperate.

you decided to 'help' him, in his way he wanted you to ride him so the lust could wear off, hopefully.

gojo’s so loud, slouched back against the squashy pillows of the sofa.

his head goes back before gripping your waist, whining at the way your hips rollicked against him. “f-fuck me more, touch me more. kiss me..baby please, ‘m so hot, pussy’s making me burn up, fuck..”

“satoru,” you mumbled, bucking your hips against him and it makes you suck your teeth. he was so big, easily stretching you out, molding out your pussy with such grace.

“stop talking.” you moaned, rocking back and forth. his cock, the girth of it stretched inside of you and you bite down on your lip.

gojo’s hair nearly covers his eyes, and he’s panting and whining each second. the way you clamp and squeeze around him makes his head spin.

“m-make me, girl.” he pouts.

you rolled your eyes, leaning in to kiss him and gojo moans in your mouth. the slim tip of his tongue ran against yours and he was so sloppy, breathing out his nose. he squeezed your ass with his left hand before whimpering once he started to bottom out.

he pulls away, simultaneously grabbing one of your breasts to latch his lips onto your perky nipple, a sweet attempt to hide his moans but he was still loud.

“mph,” he muffled, blue eyes staring up at you as you rode him so good his eyes nearly starts to roll back and you moan from the stimulation. his orgasm came so hard that he’s almost seeing stars. he painted your insides white—so much came out, it’s like he’s been saving his old just for you, he couldn’t stop tottering while being beneath you.

that’s when he lets out a sharp breath—tapping you lightly with his bottom lip visibly poking out.

“can..can you praise me?” he pants, you slow down your rhythm and gojo’s pupils dilates a bit, he swallows before moaning once you lean in to kiss near his neck. “your voice gets me so..tingly.”

“you did so good, satoru,” you hummed, kissing his nose, then his neck, then his chin, he’s still buried inside and he can’t stop moaning from your touch.

you run a finger down his v-line and he whimpers, his eyes following your movement and he was indeed warm. “…good boy.”

“jus’ hearing you talk ‘s gonna make me cum again, baby.” he choked out.

his soft shaky moans go against your ear the minute you start to ride him again, a slow yet sensual pace and he’s about to lose his mind. “don’t s-stop fucking me please. ‘m your good boy. all yours...fuck.”

#★vegasbaby. #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #toji smut #choso smut #nanami smut #gojo x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #female reader #choso x reader #tw aphrodisiacs #anime smut #anime x reader #tw sex

[ozzgin]

Yandere! House Monster x Reader

Listen, I woke up in cold sweat at 4am with a vision: you and your stereotypically unavailable gamer boyfriend have moved into a new house. You find out very soon it's not as empty as you had assumed, but your worries fall on deaf ears. The tentacle monster lurking in dark corners just wants to make sure you're not lonely.

[Second Part]

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance (mildly NSFW)

You didn't notice anything strange at first. Maybe it was considering its prey. You'd found a cheap, old house available for rent, and your boyfriend couldn't refuse the extra space for his mancave.

Oh, you poor thing. It watched your lonely evenings, your empty bed at night, your futile attempts to spend more time with your beloved partner. It had originally planned to devour your souls and await the next foolish mortals to enter its realm, but seeing your pitiful state prompted a change of heart. Metaphorical heart, of course.

It started gradually: testing the waters, or what you'd call a courting attempt. Doors opening by themselves, disembodied eyes lovingly gazing at you from the nearby walls. Dark tendrils making their way out of the shadows, just to announce its presence.

"I think this place might be cursed", you told your boyfriend one evening. "I've been stalked by amorphous silhouettes of blight and terror, and they whisper ancient blasphemies to me at night." He let out a worried shout and slapped the desk. "That's cool, babe. I'm kind of losing right now, though, so perhaps give me a minute?"

One night you were awakened from your slumber by a warm touch sliding across your body. You smiled into your pillow as the cheeky hands made their way down, fondling your curves and hungrily searching for your sensitive areas. You let out a soft moan, enjoying the moment, until you heard your boyfriend yell from the other room. Your eyes shot open.

The hands lewdly groping your privates were, in fact, tentacles. Your first reaction was to gasp, but you were quickly silenced by another slippery appendage pressing against your lips. Shh, shh. Allow the creature to do its thing, dear. Surely enough, within minutes you were a drooling mess, holding onto the sheets for dear life.

"You've been in a good mood lately", you boyfriend remarks, idly scrolling on his phone and crunching on his breakfast cereal. You ponder if you should tell him you've been fucked relentlessly by a monstrous creature inhabiting your new home. You glance at the counter and smirk, remembering how you just had to wipe your wet mess from it a few hours ago. "Keep it that way, hun, I could get used to not being pestered every hour", the man jokes with a laugh.

Does it count as cheating if your affair partner isn't really human? Although, you have to wonder if you're still dating to begin with. From the corner of your eye, you can discern faint movement above the young man, a shadow looming menacingly. The eldritch monster would not hesitate to tear your poor boyfriend apart if he tried to mess with its belonging.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #monster x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend #tentacle monster #monster smut #terato #teratophillia #monster fucker

[sttoru]

.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. it’s late at night and you try to cuddle with sukuna. keyword; try.

wc. 1.2k

tags. true form!sukuna x female reader. fluff, angst (+comfort). heian era. size difference (readers referred to as small). sukuna’s a bit mean, but he also has a soft spot for you. miscommunication ? it gets solved. reader gets called ‘woman, doll’.

“what are you trying to do?” sukuna sighs. you’re up to something again, he figures. his red eyes follow your body as it crawls up to him on the bed.

you’re both tired after a long day of fulfilling some duties here and there around the estate. all you need is a big beefy man wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm and safe.

the perfect man for that is sukuna. those four arms of his wrapped around your small body feel like heaven.

“it’s called cuddling,” you retort. the sarcastic tone you used triggers a deep sigh from the sorcerer. sukuna holds back the urge to say something sarcastic as well.

he doesn’t utter a single word once you snuggle up to his chest. you’ve taught him how to cuddle during the first time you asked him to hold you. sukuna was awkward with showing any type of affection back then.

. . he still very much is.

“hug, please,” you remind him. the cold-hearted man scoffs, though listens to your polite request. all four of his arms imprison you against his chest, your small body nearly disappearing behind his limbs.

that’s what you like most about those cuddles you share together; how you fit so perfectly in his strong arms. it’s much more comforting than you thought it would be.

a pair of hands rests on your waist, the other pair on your hips. sukuna glances down at you and immediately notices that smile on your lips. even after all this time, he still cannot fathom why you’re so carefree around a monster like him.

and that inability to understand you and your love for him is accompanied by an urge to push you away.

“you got your hug, now get up,” sukuna interrupts the silence. his voice is cold and devoid of emotion—he uses that voice when he talks to other people. not with you, “i have better things to attend to.”

thus, it hurts. when he talks to you like that. like you’re not the person he secretly cherishes most. though, you remind yourself of sukuna’s own words. the ones you heard him say a while ago.

‘love is meaningless’, he said. you remember. and yet you kept hoping that he’d change his mind about that statement. you hoped and eventually saw exactly that: your presence and your affectionate gestures mellowed his heart of steel.

but all that effort seems to go down the drain every time sukuna pushes you away.

you know it’s because he’s unfamiliar with the feelings of love. he may not say it nor show it, but you know that sukuna’s afraid of hurting you. so, he creates a gap between you two every now and then.

you know and yet you’re patient.

“oh, ‘kay,” you nod in understanding. you pull away from his embrace and get up from the bed. your bottom lip trembles.

sukuna is not gullible. he’s anything but oblivious. especially if it’s about how you feel and act. he notices every single change in your mood; whether you mask it or not.

you walk to the sliding doors—ready to open them and step out into the hallway. your eyes are a bit watery, but you quickly blink the tears away and take a deep breath in. you reach for the door.

“come back here, woman.”

sukuna’s booming voice makes you stop. you glance at his form over your shoulder. he’s leaning against the headboard of the bed, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

is he. . . upset?

“why? you said you had better things to attend to.” you answer with a shrug. you try your best to not make it seem like his earlier words had effected you. you turn your head towards the word with a huff, “go on, then.”

sukuna narrows his eyes. he sucks at communicating what he actually desires—what he actually wants. right now that want is for you to stay. even though that completely contradicts his previous words.

the sorcerer doesn’t know what to do. when you’re with him, he pushes you away out of guilt. when you’re away, he wants you back with him.

love is complicated.

“you. . .” sukuna grunts in frustration. all those feelings for you inside of his heart are playing with his rational thoughts. he doesn’t like seeing you upset. he wants the usual you back, “tsk. fine then.”

silence, followed by the creaking of the bed frame. seems like sukuna’s getting up to do whatever ‘business’ he needed to attend. at least, that’s what you thought.

you slide the door open and set a foot outside of the chambers. before the other could follow, you’re suddenly lifted up in the air by a strong pair of hands. your vision turns upside down as your body is effortlessly hoisted onto a shoulder.

“woah!” you gasp and feel the blood go to your head. your eyes are fixed on the back of your lover. you kick your legs in protest, but only get a smack to your ass in response. you whine at that, “put me down!”

“watch it, doll,” sukuna hisses at your fierce demand, a warning to fix your tone. he puts you back down on the soft mattress. he’s surprisingly gentle when he settles you in place—not throwing you on the bed or anything similar, “should’ve listened when i told you the first time.”

your eyes meet sukuna’s and you notice how much they’ve softened. that alone makes the lump in your throat disappear. your love for him isn’t one sided—you’ve always kept that in the back of your mind—yet your thoughts made you overlook the little things he does for you.

his actions speak louder than his words. that’s the kind of man he is.

sukuna’s trying to open up more, though that process is slow. you’re fine with that.

especially when there’s that faint pout on his lips as he stares at you. his eyebrows are still furrowed, his crimson eyes sharp yet warm.

“oh, you want me back in bed this bad?” you tease once you get the opportunity. the man in front of you clicks his tongue and grabs your cheeks with one hand, turning your head up to face him.

sukuna’s eyes are focused on yours. the eye contact is intimidating, but you’re hypnotised. you physically can’t look away. he leans in and bites your lip with his sharp canines, “shut up.”

that raspy whisper alone confirms your assumption. you giggle at his attempt of refuting your point. you’re used to all those intimidating words and actions he pulls to get you to stop your teasing.

those empty threats—it’s becoming rather cute with how hard he tries to deny everything. he fails nearly every time, however.

“come,” sukuna lays back against the pillows after placing a quick and sloppy kiss against your lips. he pulls your body against his and presses your head against his chest, right where his heart is beating, “continue with your.. ‘cuddling’ thing.”

he put your ear right above his heart, because he remembers listening to his heartbeat calms you down. you told him that a while back. sukuna doesn’t understand why you like it, but his fingers massage your scalp either way.

that’s also something that brings you comfort.

you’re surprised by how much he knows about you, but appreciate it anyway. he remembers both the big and small things about you. ‘that’s how he probably shows his love,’ you conclude silently.

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk fluff #sukuna x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff

[dixiedingo]

I made lotsa moneys last night :3

#i like doing baby talk sometimes it lets me feel like a cutey #i feel like a teenager with a heart shaped phone #anyways yeah I made like fucking 80 bucks in tips #to everyone you tipped above $5 I hope you're constantly getting consensual head #if thats not your thing may you have warm soup every other night and your pillow sides stay cold