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niishii · 8 months

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you snooze, you lose—fraken stein x fem!reader insert

Summary; in which stein attemps to find you guilty of sleeping while grading papers.

Warnings; none, just fluff!

Authors note; ask and you shall receive. thank you all for voting in my latest poll! expect another one soon!

"Getting sleepy, aren't we?"

You lifted your head from the stack of papers on your desk that were desperately in need of being graded. "Not at all. I'm just resting my eyes," you said, picking up the red pen that had somehow slipped from your fingers.

Stein scoffed, rolling towards your desk in the chair he sat in backwards. "Yeah, right, sleepy," he said, poking your cheek. "I saw you drooling."

Lazily, you slapped his hand away. "In your dreams, cheater. At least I'm actually grading papers." Playfully, you snatched the unlit cigarette from his lips and tossed it in the trashcan next to you. "Also, there's no smoking in my classroom."

Like a lost puppy, he braced his chin on his wrists and pouted, easing forward until his chair hit the front of your desk. You were now face to face with him, though you lowered your head back down to the essay you were in the middle of grading - right before he could place a kiss on your lips.

"But, I finished grading," he replied in playful defense.

You lifted your head and looked past his shoulder at the numerous stacks of paper haphazardly towered over a smooth wooden surface. You lifted a brow at your opponent.

"Okay...so I only graded one stack," he added quickly, sitting up in his chair, blocking your view of the mountain of papers behind him. "But at least I haven't snored yet."

"I do not snore," you said defensively as he began to laugh. In the midst of his contagious laughter, he threw his head back, the ceiling light reflecting off of his glasses. Before he could compose himself, he slipped and the chair went down with him in a loud crash.

Smirking, you peered over your desk at your boyfriend on the floor. Your chin resting in your palm.

"Aha! So you were sleeping!" He pointed at you from below, adjusting his glasses as if the chair had packed a good punch to his face on his way down.

"You have no proof," You said simply before standing from your chair. You turned to face the blackboard and began erasing your notes in hopes of getting more energy circulating through your veins.

"Ah, but I do, pretty," he replied, pulling himself to his feet. He wiped the dust from his lab coat and clumsily stepped over the squeaky chair before making his way towards you. Wordlessly, he took your wrist, the one erasing notes from the board, and held it up. "Exhibit A."

His thumb ran over the imprint marks from you leaning on your spiral bound notebook. The marks ran from the back of your hand to your forearm.

"So?" You gently took your wrist back and faced the board again. "Doesn't mean I was sleeping."

"Exhibit B," he said, continuing his charade. He reached out to touch your chin, gently turning your head to face him. His thumb swept just below your eyes. "Large pupils, droopy eyelids."

"Which indicate what, Stein?"

Stein smirked and whispered, "Sleep deprivation," before kissing your cheek.

You stifled a soft laugh and turned your chin away from his grasp. You playfully rolled your eyes despite the heat rising to your cheeks.

"And what's your final submission of evidence?" You asked before using your other hand to stifle an untimely yawn.

"Exhibit C," he said, pointing at you with a smirk.

Playfully, you swatted at him like he was a pesky fly, but he dodged your attempts easily. "Good thing you're a scientist," you mumbled in between yawns and giggles. "Because you'd be a terrible lawyer."

Nodding in agreement, he took both your cheeks in his hollowed hands and placed a kiss on your lips.

"Yeah, right. I'd be a fantastic lawyer, and you know it."

#soul eater fanfiction #soul eater x reader #soul eater x reader insert #soul eater stein #franken stein x reader #fraken stein x reader insert #stein x you #stein x y/n #niishii #soul eater #soul eater fic #soul eater fandom #stein x reader #anime fanfic #anime fanfiction #souleater #soul eater x reader #soul eater x y/n

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possum-fiend · 3 months

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If you couldn't tell by my page, I'm a bit obsessed with them.

It's been a cyclical obsession since I was 10 and I'm still never prepared why the hyperfixation drags me back into the depths of hell

💀💀💀

#soul x maka #soul eater #maka albarn #soul eater evans #soul eater fanfiction #how do i tag shit

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bcbdrums · 3 months

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Art by the incomparable @benjimatorarts, a fanfic illustration for:

THANK YOU Benji, you have perfectly captured the story. You bring my words to life better than I could dream. It's perfection!

#soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #franken stein #spirit albarn #maka albarn #soul eater fanart #spiritstein #steinspirit #spirit x stein #stein x spirit #CrossStitch #death scythe #stein #spirit #dr stein #dr. stein #professor stein

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takeyourcyanide · 5 days

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Prey

Possible TWs: Unreality, brief mention of suicide

AO3

Fandom: Soul Eater

Character(s): Franken Stein, Spirit Albarn, Marie Mjolnir, mentions of Azusa Yumi, Mira Naigus, and Sid Barrett

Word count: 3 315

Tags: hurt/no comfort, delirium, unreality, delusions, psychosis, confusion, dreams and nightmares, dreams vs reality, schizophrenia, madness, men crying

Summary: Stein struggles to tell dreams from reality, he struggles with the likes of paranoia and confusion, etc.

Note(s): Pushing through the static to write is like pushing through an avalanche sometimes, but it’s one of the few things I enjoy, so I do so anyway. I wanted to depict the confusion (among other things) that comes along with the static (at least for me), so I hope this comes across properly.

Anguished is he, of whom is reduced to limp and helpless prey for not only the world to seemingly feast upon, but for himself to feast fervently and rabidly upon.

<…….>

Stein had always been viewed as some sort of malevolent force; a predator.

Whether there’s any genuine truth to that statement or not, such a viewpoint spread, be it due to stigma and misconceptions, or a partial truth. Perhaps both.

Unbeknownst to the apparent entirety of everyone else was that his motives were only partially sadistic. He has ripped everything imaginable limb from limb, for the sake of ultimately satiating his scientific curiosity, as well as satiating his sadistic urges.

That same sadism extended towards himself, so it seemed, which left him to often question whether or not he was, too, a bit of a masochist.

<…….>

Stein’s computer screen blared before his eyes as though he were knocking upon the gates of heaven, though it felt much more like he had been dragged down into the deepest pit of hell; an abyss designed specifically for him.

He gazed into the array of pixels, a debilitating and delirium-inducing fog conquering him, as he felt whatever cognition had remained slipping through his lithe, pale, and trembling fingers.

It was one of the few thoughts that had ever managed to bring tears to his hollow eyes. His intellect was a treasured, a prized aspect of him; it was almost all he ever had - at least that’s what it seemed like in retrospect, as his previously excellent memory blurred and gasped for air like the ground from underneath the rubble of a massive and fallen building.

It was as though he had been a simultaneously third and first-party observing as his brain deteriorated, decomposing before his very eyes. He had been watching and psychoanalyzing as it all crashed down since utero. And from the moment he could conceptualize the neurobiological differences he was born with, he knew that, though he had refused to accept it, he had no chance at ever living.

When you begin early, you finish early.

The text of the paper on the screen appeared to morph, shifting and becoming completely different words after Stein was repeatedly forced to do multiple double-takes.

Franken sighed in mild frustration, deep and troubled as the biology normally so easy for him to comprehend became utterly indiscernible, incomprehensible, and a messy jumble of word salad. He massaged the bridge of his nose, as well as the skin in between his eyebrows in a circular motion, trying his best to remember how to breathe.

He moved his eyes to the lower right of the monitor, the clock in the corner reading ‘07:38.’

Stein’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, as he stood abruptly from his chair, shoving it away. He was almost forty minutes late to work.

He knew his ability to perceive time had been absolutely annihilated, but it never became any easier, nor did it become any less disorienting, ultimately leaving him to rub at his temples, shaking his head with a confused and feverish grimace.

He audibly groaned, lost within the hazy and murky forest with no way out.

At least he was already dressed.

<…….>

Stein trudged through the DWMA’s doors, hair unkempt and under-eyes appearing as though charcoal had been smeared upon them.

“Stein?” Spirit sounded rather confused as Stein marched into the Death Room expectantly and barely prepared to work. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I work here,” the meister’s eyebrows were furrowed, as he was stuck within a continuous and hellish state of befuddlement.

He snuck glances around the room, Lord Death and Marie staring at him with an expression of pity and concern, causing Stein to sneer.

“Don’t you remember? We’re letting you off for a little while. You should be at your lab right now,” the weapon stated, too, sounding terribly worried. Franken wished they’d simply stop pretending. It was clear they were only judging him, whispering vile things about him, mocking him when he wasn’t there to witness it.

“Oh… That wasn’t a dream?” Stein huffed, flabbergasted and unwillingly under the microscopic lenses that were their telling, needy, and greedy eyes, as even the overly bossy and critical Azusa was present in the room, along with the likes of Sid and Naigus.

Not only had it all seemed like one big dream, including the present, but it felt as though it had happened years ago - as though it were distant.

“No, Stein…. It was yesterday.”

Yesterday? What even happened yesterday?

He once again turned his head from side to side, a slow and searching motion.

He covered his face with his freezing hands, fingers spread just enough that he could see their distorting and foreign faces from in between each of them.

“Why don’t we get you home?” Spirit offered, a kind and caring gesture that was rendered nothing but conspicuous and threatening in the forest, amongst the thick and strident static.

“No.. No…. I can make it by myself,” he shakily mumbled, hands still gripping the flesh of what is supposedly his face.

“Are you sure? You don’t look well,” Death Scythe raised an eyebrow in suspicion, eyeing his former partner up and down.

And the truth was, he really didn’t. He no longer simply appeared as though he were a moving corpse anymore, he genuinely looked as though he had been mangled by some creature only days prior; his insomnia was more obvious than it had ever been, not to mention how slouched he was and how stiff his every movement was. It was as if Stein was relearning how to properly walk.

“Have I not managed to every other time?”

‘But you look like the thin, frail, and worn out thread you’ve been hardly hanging onto all your life has finally torn,’ Spirit thought to himself, exhibiting every last bit of self-control not to voice his opinion aloud.

“It’s okay to rely on people sometimes. We’re here for you. Let me take you home,” he said instead.

Stein fervently demurred against his suggestion, the very prospect of being lead back to his laboratory seemed to raise the volume of the radio.

“No. Let me go alone,” he almost pouted, his face twitching all over, as he was genuinely unsure what facial expression he should be making, and how he could even facially express what he was experiencing at all; flickering back and forth between every face, none suiting what he wanted to convey, or really, wasn’t certain he wanted to convey.

“I’m not going to let you just go alone in the state you’re in,” Stein clenched his atypically tight chest, sharp aches echoing throughout his sternum.

Spirit moved closer to the twitchy meister, not missing how Stein seemed to flinch farther away.

“Come on, Franken. Just let me walk you home, at the very least,” as the scythe peered downwards at the hand soothing over his chest, an almost sorrowful and tender glint appeared in his eyes, the volume further rising, the scientist’s ears surely leaking blood by now.

“Fine,” there was no point in continuing to stubbornly refuse the weapon’s proposal. Even if he left by his lonesome, the weapon would surely be knocking on his steel doors come nightfall.

A small smile made its way on Spirit’s face, as he replied gently with, “Well, all right, then.”

<…….>

The incessant, persistent, all-encompassing noise rose to unprecedented levels as he walked side by side with Mr. Suit and Tie, refusing to even so much as peek at his skinsuit.

Agitation spread throughout his body like cancer, overtaking his motor skills, leaving him squirmy, irritable, impatient, and robotic; only further exacerbated by the snickering and obnoxiously refulgent sun.

It left him childishly desiring to fall to the ground and throw a tantrum, to kick and to scream cacophonously, to sob and hiccup, and cross his arms over his ever-tightening chest, as he bit into the plush skin of his bottom lip as a distraction.

The static combined with the luminous summer day, combined with not being in control of his own decisions due to certain people believing him to be “unstable” was simply all too much; overstimulating.

Everything was too furiously hot and yet too frigid simultaneously; too loud and too quiet. All of that, not even including how his day clothes were brushing against his skin, feeling too small and too big, itchy and too smooth at the same time. It was as though the turtleneck, one of the few articles of clothing he didn’t refuse to wear, was suddenly strangling him; even his coat was now too heavy upon his shoulders, too clunky. It was all much too clunky.

And then Spirit pushed the creaky doors open.

Stein’s hands immediately flew up to cover his ears for the brief moment the sound reverberated, pathetic tears welling up in his eyes as he burned holes in his shoes.

He dug his teeth even further into his lip, wincing at the shooting pain that action garnered.

“Stein? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you coming inside?” Albarn softly and confusedly questioned, standing halfway inside of the laboratory. “Why are you staring at the floor?”

Stein’s hands were still cupped over his ears, moving upwards and yanking on his hair, his expression petulant as Spirit was finally able to get a semi-decent look at him.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that, why are you crying?” A tiny sob fell out from the normally resilient and unnervingly apathetic meister’s mouth, Spirit’s eyes widening, his arms rising aimlessly as he scrambled for anyway to comfort the male.

Stein rolled his inner cheek between his teeth, eagerly hoping to muffle his blubbering as he knew Spirit and everyone else who happened to hear about his little moment of weakness would take advantage of him in some way.

But that particular train of though only seemed to make him cry harder, the ball swirling in his chest tightening to the point of explosion; similarly to a taut rubber band tying around his heart, compressing and compressing until the organ itself exploded into an internally bloody mess.

The hands previously pulling at his hair once again fell to his chest, gripping and grappling, as Stein forgot how to properly inhale and exhale, his breaths unsteady, but not to the point of hyperventilation.

A certain fear he wasn’t sure he had ever felt rose within him, beating against the confines of his muscles, skeleton, his flesh to escape.

“Come on, why don’t we get inside? Wouldn’t that make you feel better?” Spirit placed a perturbed hand on Stein’s shuddering shoulder, of whom leaped backwards. “I’m sorry, I won’t touch you again.”

The corners of the scientist’s mouth twitched wildly, almost as though it were attempting a smile, tears still freely running down his rosy cheeks.

He smacked a hand over his mouth, folding in on himself, practically convulsing as uncontrollable and unfitting giggles escaped his mouth vigorously, nearly choking attempting to cease his own unwanted laughter.

The foreboding expression mixed with, danced with the cracking grin, as he glanced over at Spirit, a horrified and vulnerable look in his eyes.

The disquietude contorting Spirit’s countenance had seemingly been, though certainly not entirely, assuaged by something, as he returned to his former position partially inside of the lab.

“Can you make it in here on your own, or do you need help?” His voice was hushed, but rather sweet in a way Franken had never heard from the man before.

He put one foot in front of the other whilst laughing uproariously, Albarn pursing his lips as the manic giggles filled his ears like a disconcerting and scratched record.

The record shrieking, bellowing from the speakers of the old radio had risen in volume to the point of no return. And all Stein could do in the face of the growing and clamoring shadows was weep and cackle. He was now to be laid out for the entirety of the desert to know and scrutinize.

And though he never once cared about a singular person’s opinion of him, the viewpoints of the flowing river rushing with what may as well be a liquidized form of the status quo would always sway the viewpoint’s of others, effectively sweeping the already swept rug right out from underneath him.

“Do you wanna sit on the couch? Or.. I think it would be a good idea if you tried to get a nap,” Stein’s visage was blank in emotion, only a few tears left to roll, his mouth closed shut despite the tittering attempting to flow out like a stream of water. It admittedly appeared rather… interesting to anyone who wasn’t the meister, as his figure shook with what could be mistaken as mirth, while no other aspect of him followed suit.

Stein shrugged his shoulders in response, standing awkwardly as though he was a guest in his own house.

“Come on,” he waved the meister over. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”

He apprehensively objected the notion, standing still, the laughter slowly but surely dying down.

“Why not?” The ginger prodded as if he truly believed he would be given a verbal elucidation. “…… Okay, why don’t we just sit down, then?”

Stein obeyed, moving to plop down onto the sofa, a falling sensation holding his body hostage. He felt himself being pulled down as if he had dived off of a building; a random suicidal whim, an impulse. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to those.

<…….>

Stein’s eyes shot open as he caught his breath, his face oddly moist and his body drenched with sweat.

He was breathing fast and hard, his heart pumping, banging against his sore chest; something of which seldom happened.

He lifted his quivering fingers, dabbing them onto his cheeks, as if to take a sample.

Upon observation, upon even licking the salty liquid from off of his fingers for the sole sake of clarity, it was safe to determine that he was crying.

Stein squinted his eyes, scanning the room, his vision blurred undoubtedly from the tears, though it was possible he also needed the aid his glasses offered him.

He patted around his bed and his nightstand in search of the aforementioned glasses, only to find that he had fallen asleep with his frames on his face, lenses covered in the same wetness covering his fingers.

He cleaned the lenses with his shirt, jittery and with an aching stomach and head.

‘Was that a dream? No… That just happened yesterday, didn’t it? Or was it a week ago? How much of that did and did not happen? When…? No,’ the endless misty haze of confusion seemed to torture him endlessly as he placed his glasses beside him.

He needed a shower. And the very thought of standing in the mirrored room paralyzed him; the same room with the camera-filled vents. Though all of his rooms had that… They were most likely selling the videos they’d take of his most vulnerable and private moments to strangers… His body was to be passed around and enjoyed, wasn’t it?

He bit at his fingers, even unconsciously suckling on them at the volume rose impossibly and impressively more so.

But he had work to accomplish, not even just at the academy - or did they actually temporarily suspend him from his duties? Was that just the dream?

Stein threw the covers from off of his body. Evidently he’d need to wash the sheets as well, given how soaked they were.

Exhausting nightmares were all he had anymore.

<…….>

The warm water trickled down Stein’s neck, falling smoothly from his collarbone, and down to his thoracic and abdominal cavities, making rounds around his thighs, and pooling under his feet.

He stood there, immobilized by nothing at all for a moment. It was almost as if, though not quite, he was not allowed to move, to control his own extremities.

He pondered for a moment those ghastly and ghostly beings which followed him into the bathroom, never allowing him even a fraction of time to himself, and how, while he often wished for them to disappear, he hadn’t a single clue as to what he’d do without them.

The static sung hell-born lullabies to him, words of the shadows culminating inside of his skull like echoes of the distant past, or of an imminent and inevitable future; a reminder that the present would never be his to own. Even his own thoughts were not to ever belong to him.

He was within its domain, born seated upon its throne, for it was, too, his, as he was ‘it’ and ‘it’ was him - simultaneously, still, existing as almost separate entities; the predator and the prey, except in this particular falsified, quasi-play, the predator’s prey just so happened to be the predator itself.

Stein managed to twitch his middle finger.. Then his ring, then his pointer, his pinky, and his thumb.

He relearned how to contract his muscles, how to outstretch his arms, as he began to move.

He’d rub shampoo and conditioner in his hair, scratching the shampoo into his scalp, and observing as it seeped through his follicles and into his body just as the noise had.

His heart did not pump the same blood as everyone else’s. That much was apparent. And he could not force it to. Was he to give in to the forest? Did he have a choice in the matter?

<…….>

Stein trudged once more throughout the cobblestone streets, seeking answers.

He pushed the academy doors open, a few curious glances coming his way as students and staff alike whispered amongst one another. He didn’t always mind such attention, as a matter of fact, he often found it rather amusing. At times, he could even find himself being partial to it. But in times such as this, times when it fed the avalanche raining down in his mind, he wished everyone would simply forget he ever existed. He wished passionately that he were the invisible observer he often forgot that he wasn’t.

“Spirit,” Stein called out into the Death Room, even more bewildered glances given to him.

“Stein?” The scythe sounded so surprised to see the man, he had to wonder why.

“Have I been suspended already?” He asked the question as though it were the most urgent and important of questions.

“Stein… You were let off over a week ago. Don’t you remember?”

Those words resounded within Stein, echoing and bouncing off the walls as the world around him spun, crumbling down as the very fabric of reality tore apart.

“It was a week?” Stein choked out, his eyes bulging out from their sockets, his ears ringing inharmoniously.

He whipped his head around the whole room, covering his face just as he had in the dream, moving his hands to the sides of his head, as he stood with both of his legs in his reality and a mere fingertip in their reality.

What?

“What day is it again?”

“It’s the twenty-sixth of July,” Marie helpfully answered, sounding awfully concerned. “It’s a Thursday.”

Stein ripped his hands away from his head, pulling them back down and peering at them. Was he even real? Were they real? Were they demons wearing the skin of his friends? What was going on? Where was he, truly? Who was he?

And most importantly,

how did he last this long in the first place?

It had become overwhelmingly apparent over the years that he was the strongest person he knew.

But being the strongest never guarantees you’ll survive on the battlefield. No matter who you are, you’re more likely to die a gruesome and empty death than not. A death in which you are left to rot. And that had also become abundantly clear to Stein.

He knew it. He had always known it.

He wasn’t going to make it to thirty.

<——————>

An incredibly fitting song:

#soul eater #franken stein #stein #stein soul eater #dr stein #takeyourcyanide #hurt/no comfort #Spotify #soul eater fanfic #soul eater fanfiction #schizospec #schizophrenia #psychosis #possible psychosis

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chickycherrycola · 5 days

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Summer Nights

Hello and happy 4/20 friends! 😎🚬 In honor of the holiday, it is finally time to unveil a very special new fic! This one is a joint (hehe) effort between myself and my dearest pal @moriohpissky - our degenerate little love child, Summer Nights! I've teased bits and pieces of the first chapter over the past several weeks, and I'm so excited to finally release it to the world today, in all of its smutty, self-indulgent glory 😉🔥 featuring SoMa, the dorks in love as always, in a college/university, friends-with-benefits setting, and Soul as I've always wanted to write him - as a tattooed, weed-smoking, rock band guitarist 🤘 Full summary below:

Summer Nights

Rating: E (for explicit sexual content, marijuana use, partying and alcohol consumption. Adult stuff up the wazoo.)

Summary:

"On the heels of a messy breakup, Maka Albarn finds herself at the end of her junior year in college trying to pick up the pieces of her broken heart and fit them back together. When her roommate drags her to a frat party, an unexpected hookup with her handsome, tattooed, guitarist friend Soul leads Maka to scheme up the perfect remedy for her aching heart and shattered confidence: a hot summer fling with no expectations, no commitment, and no strings attached.

That is, if she can make it to the fall semester without catching feelings."

Ch 1 preview under the cut - or you can head right to AO3 and read!

Leah has also been cooking up a COMIC to go along with this first chapter! So if you like what you see here, please keep an eye out for that today as well!

She doesn’t usually do stuff like this.

As her back hits the mattress and her field of vision tilts upward, she finds herself taking a mental inventory of her current state–a task that proves more difficult than usual, given the fuzziness in her brain and the tingling ache blooming low in her gut. Through the roar of her heartbeat in her ears and the electricity crackling in her veins, she craves the comfort of that which has always brought her solace–facts. Logic. Common sense.

Unfortunately, all of the above seem to be in short supply at present.

Maka Albarn doesn’t go to frat parties.

The sour aroma of cheap beer in the air and the faint rumble of bass notes, the distant din of intermingled voices and the occasional whoop or shout from the lower floors of the house suggest otherwise.

Maka Albarn doesn’t smoke weed.

The pungent, earthy taste in her mouth begs to differ, as well as the heat in her blood and the lag in her thoughts, the weightlessness of her limbs and the floating sensation permeating her senses.

Maka Albarn doesn’t hook up with guys she isn’t dating. She doesn’t hook up with anyone at all, ever, in fact.

The current body of evidence points to the contrary.

The rustle of bed sheets beneath her and the tickle of rough lips tracing the line of her pulse, the callused hands cradling her face and slowly mapping the curve of her waist. The warm, intoxicating weight of a body–solid, hard, masculine–pressed against hers and the soft, pale hair tangled between her fingers. The heat of his breath and the lingering taste of smoke when his mouth presses to her lips, the click of her teeth against his and the slow, tentative trace of his tongue around hers as the kiss deepens.

Maybe, she thinks to herself, somewhat distantly, if Maka Albarn doesn’t do any of those things, then maybe… maybe, just for a little while, I can be someone else.

Even if it’s just pretend.

Read the rest on AO3!

#summer nights #cherry writes #soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #soul x maka #soul x maka fanfiction #maka albarn #soul eater evans

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cannibal-nightmares · 4 days

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Six Seven Sentence Sunday

Tagged by @takeyourcyanide, natürlich,, Time for six seven sentences from a WIP B)

"Death, it's hot." The stoic didn't reply. Spirit knew Stein hated humoring complaining, but the former loved to make noise, anyways. He hummed with refocus once he actually took note of the room, his roommate’s unclothed back starting to glimmer with sweat. "Although, maybe they can take a bit longer on fixing the A/C if it means it keeps you out of your clothes." Stein barely turned to the redhead in the swiveling chair, revealing a sort of DIY contraption of a holed bucket and a fan in his lap. “I’m working on it.”

I love being a tease. This snippet says nothing about the actual fic. It's also from a piece I've only barely and vaguely mentioned to one person.

UMM @midnightcaptions TAG YOU'RE IT. Also anyone who reads this. I am tagging you with my laser eyes.

#six sentence sunday #seven sentence sunday #writing meme #soul eater fanfiction #soul eater fanfic #tag meme

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crazypossumman · 1 month

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Matching Stitches (Stein x Spirit)

Summary: Spirit has always been Stein's greatest experiment, just not in the way he has always thought.

Also on AO3

AN: Uneditted and purely indulgent to my own weird little theory about Stein's experiments on Spirit when they were first partners. Just shy of 3,000 words. Certainly not my best writing; I'd like to be more thorough with this idea, but for now I just needed it out of my head.

CW: Fairly brief mention of surgery (surgical tools, scars, etc.) on others and self, mentions of blood/violence, betrayal, angsty but with an implied happy ending

“You know I trust you.”

“And you know that it’s a mistake, really.”

Spirit swallowed hard, looking at the boy in white next to him as he picked through various surgical instruments. The words had slipped from the meister's mouth faster than he would’ve had time to think, so Spirit knew that he meant it. But—for some reason beyond reason—Spirit still trusted him.

It was only fair that he did, really. Stein was putting his life into Spirit’s hands each time they went into battle; it was Spirit’s sworn duty to protect his meister partner, and if he failed, Stein would be the one to face the consequences. If Stein could trust Spirit with his life, then Spirit needed to do the same.

“I’m just saying there are risks,” the younger boy continued, still not looking up from the tray of meticulously sorted tools, “Surgery always comes with risks.”

“I know that,” Spirit huffed, shifting on the table. A crumpled blanket covered his lap, but aside from that, he had already stripped down for the operation. He desperately wished that Stein hadn’t waited until the last minute to voice his concerns, leaving him exposed and anxiously anticipating the pain of the operation.

“I don’t mean risks to your health.” Stein’s hands dropped to his sides and came to a stop, but he didn’t look up. “There are risks to your reputation, as well. I’m sure you’ve noticed the way people look at me.”

Of course, Spirit thought, Who hasn’t noticed? It had been a while ago that scars had started appearing on the young genius’ body. Most of them were small—small enough to fade and to be pushed from one’s mind (maybe it was a scratch, an accident)—but recently, some had become more concerning. Nothing he was doing was against the Academy’s rules (Spirit always made sure of that), and how was anyone supposed to stop him? The alternative was to allow him to hurt others, and no one could allow that. So, instead, they appointed him with social judgment—a collective consensus to leave him outcasted, feared, and alone. Spirit was guilty of it as well. He hated being seen as the meister's babysitter, and the stitches on the meister's body made him uncomfortable just like everyone else.

“I can keep them under my shirt,” he said, “People won’t even notice.”

“You’ll never take off your shirt in front of anyone ever?” the madman said, raising an eyebrow, “I find that unlikely.”

“It won’t have to be forever,” the older boy growled, “You said your research will change lives, Stein! No one will care what happened when they know I did it for a good cause.”

Something not unlike a smile tugged at the corner of the boy’s mouth. “You’re an idiot,” he said plainly. The change of inflection in his voice was even less noticeable than the change in expression, but Spirit noted it nonetheless.

“You think everyone is an idiot.”

There was a short moment of silence before Stein, going back to the matter at hand, said, “I just want to be sure that you are aware of the possible consequences. It’s possible that these operations will be entirely unhelpful. I can’t guarantee success for either of us.”

“You said that we still don’t know much about how weapons’ bodies work, right?” Spirit reminded him, “How else would anyone figure anything out? I know the risks, and I’ve agreed to it. You’ll use this research to develop surgical practices on weapons wounded in battle, and you’ll save lives. People will think that we’re heroes.”

Stein huffed. “It’s unlikely my finds from this operation go anywhere on their own,” he argued, “We’d have to do numerous dissections on numerous cadavers.”

“We’ll do as many as you need. Once people see the gains you’ve made performing research on me, they’ll be sure to approve of further research. They’ll understand everything you’ve been doing all along.”

“They won’t.” His voice had gone rigged, particularly cold. “I’m not doing it for those reasons, Spirit. I’m doing it to know. Whether lives are saved or not does not concern me.”

Spirit laid back on the exam table and closed his eyes, frustrated by the bickering. “I’m the one getting cut open tonight, Stein. You should be far more optimistic in this situation than I am.”

“How many times do I need to say it?” The boy moved again, picking a scalpel up from the tray and turning it precariously in his fingers. “I’m just making sure you know all the risks.” Stein stepped closer to Spirit, putting one hand on the older boy’s chest with just enough pressure to keep his back flat on the table. “I am incredibly—how did you put it?” the silver-haired boy chimed, “—optimistic.”

— ~ — * — ~ —

“Spirit, what are these?”

The blood drained from Spirit’s face, and he swallowed hard. Fuck, how on earth could he have forgotten?

Things had gotten out of hand so quickly. It started at a party, as these things so often did, and from there it was drinking, and then dancing, and then stumbling into the nearest vacant room with his hands on Kami’s waist. He’d been too drunk to think—no, he’d been thinking, just nothing helpful—about the scars, and Kami must’ve noticed him flinch as her hand explored under his shirt, brushing over one of the fresher wounds.

“Spirit?” she said again, looking up at him.

“They’re nothing, really,” he said.

“What do you mean?” He felt his stomach churn at the concern in her voice as she lifted his shirt out of the way to expose further wounds and scars on his abdomen. “How did you get them?” she asked.

“I… I don’t know,” he lied, hoping that his guilt would be perceived as concern, “They just appear. It’s nothing, probably.”

“How can you not know?” she asked harshly, her eyebrows furred down into an angry glare, “Look at the stitches, Spirit! You don’t think these are even the slightest bit familiar? That little psycho you call your meister is obviously doing something to you!”

“I think I would know if that were the case,” he said defensively, unsure of how else to shift the guilt away from Stein.

“Clearly, not! He’s probably drugging you so that he can operate on you in your sleep. Who knows what he’s already done to you!”

"Kami, please--"

Before Spirit could even comprehend what was happening, he was being dragged to his and Stein’s apartment by Kami, who was fuming with rage. She nearly broke down the door, storming in immediately with Spirit close in tow, and pounded on the door to Stein’s bedroom.

“Stein, you bastard! Get out here!” she shouted, making Spirit flinch.

There was a long, tragic moment of silence before the door opened, Stein standing behind it, dressed in white as always. “Kami, Spirit,” he addressed each of them blandly.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Please, you’ll need to be more specific.”

Kami pulled Spirit forward and yanked up his shirt, revealing his scar-stained abdomen. The young weapon felt his eyes go wide with fear and shock, unsure of what to do, but Stein’s didn’t meet his gaze through the glare of his glasses. His face gave no hint of worry, no hint of care.

“How do you explain this?” she asked angrily.

Stein shrugged. Spirit felt himself start to panic. “I’m a scientist. What do you expect?” the younger boy said.

“I didn’t expect you to be drugging your weapon partner and experimenting on him in his sleep!” she snapped.

Spirit waited, looking for a telltale sign of emotion on Stein’s face. But there wasn’t one. The younger boy should have been afraid—betrayed, even. And yet it looked as if he felt nothing. “I’d hardly expect either of you to understand,” he said.

“I understand!” Kami shouted, “You’re a complete psycho! Don’t you know that you could’ve killed him?”

“Don’t you know that I chose not to?” Stein replied. The statement had a bite to it that seemed to come unnaturally to the meister. “I held his life in my hands, and I chose to spare it. Don’t make me regret my decision, Kami.”

“You’re… you’re a lunatic!” she shouted. She grabbed Spirit’s arm again, moving closer to him. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Stein didn’t move, his eyes fixed on both of them, and Spirit felt himself freeze for a moment. He was looking for something—anything—on the meister’s face to tell him how he was feeling. He needed to step in. He needed to do something, say something—he needed to stand up for Stein before it was too late. But before he could form the words, Kami was walking him out of the apartment with a firm hand on his back, holding him close as if worried he’d faint. They left, and he did nothing.

— ~ — * — ~ —

All these years later, and Spirit felt so sick that he could throw up. He could hear the bottom of a bottle calling to him, a sweet harmony he usually wouldn’t hesitate to answer, but now of all times felt inappropriate to be drinking.

He was a failure. He’d always been a failure. But somehow, the damage done by his mistakes continued to grow. Error upon error stacked upon each other, the consequences culminating into a cascade of shame and guilt.

The Demon Sword had gotten away, and so had the witch it was working with. And, worse than that, Maka and Soul had been in the brunt of the battle as well. Usually, the mere thought of the ivory-haired teen made his blood boil, but now he was sick with worry. Had Soul not been there—if he hadn’t sacrificed himself—then what would’ve become of his daughter? As much as he didn’t want to imagine it, he couldn’t get the image out of his head: his precious daughter’s blood splattered over the walls because he had been too late.

Soul was in surgery now with Dr. Stein, which somehow made him feel worse. When he was a student (not even so long ago, really), an operation like this would’ve been unheard of—impossible, even. But Stein was a genius, and his understanding of weapons and their bodies was invaluable. He always insisted that his search for knowledge wasn’t intended to benefit others, yet it continued to serve the academy and its students time and time again.

Stein was a madman, but he was still a good person. Spirit always knew that, and yet all those years ago, he let Stein take the fall as soon as someone discovered his scars. He didn’t know what had prevented him from just admitting that he had consented to the operations. Was he that ashamed of admitting that he trusted his meister? Or was he just that concerned with what people thought of him—worried that people would shun him and label him as a freak, the same way they had Stein for so many years?

Waiting outside the infirmary for news, Spirit felt himself shake. Stein should have hated him, but as their soul wavelengths tangled in one another during the fight with the Demon Sword, Spirit knew that the madman didn’t hold so much as a grudge. It was as if nothing had ever happened at all. Somehow, that was worse. He had made mistake after mistake, and the only person who seemed to hate him was his daughter. As they both waited near the infirmary door, she wouldn’t even look at him. At least he knew that he deserved it.

Eventually, the infirmary door opened, and the silver-haired man appeared, his white labcoat in pristine condition despite the bloody task he had just finished performing. Maka was first to approaching him, inquiring rapidly about her partner’s condition. Spirit kept himself from flinching while Stein lied to her through his teeth. He didn’t know exactly what was wrong, but he knew it was something. Maka—like most others—couldn’t read Stein the way he could, and she thanked him before moving on, relief radiating from her person.

Spirit wanted to snap at him as soon as she had walked away, but he kept himself calm. It didn’t take long for him to pry the answer from Stein: the Demon Sword’s black blood had mixed with Soul’s, and the consequences of such were still unknown.

“It will be interesting to see what happens,” Stein admitted.

“Interesting? What the hell do you mean interesting? My daughter’s life could be at risk here, Stein!”

The madman blew out a puff of smoke. “There’s nothing to be so worried about. I believe that Maka and Soul will both be fine. It may not be an easy road, but they will make it through.”

Spirit glared at him. “Is there nothing you can do to stop it? Or are you just choosing not to so that you can see what happens?” he asked.

“The former,” the meister said plainly, not offering any more explanation. Silence fell between them, and Spirit felt himself starting to shake again. “Your worry won’t help them,” the madman said, “The best thing you can do is put your faith in them.”

“I have plenty of faith. If anyone can beat this, it’s my Maka.”

“Then what has you so unnerved?”

Spirit swallowed hard, looking down each end of the hallway as if in hope of escape. “This operation,” he said quietly, “It wouldn’t have been possible when we were students. It’s possible because of you.”

“And because of you, as well.”

“Don’t give me any credit,” he growled, “I don’t deserve it.”

Stein took a long drag of his cigarette, then let out a deep sigh. “You felt it, too, didn’t you?” he asked, “During the fight with the Demon Sword?”

Spirit nodded. “Nothing’s even changed between us.”

“Not at all.”

“Why not?” he asked before he thought.

The pause that followed was long—the tension could’ve been cut into pieces with a butter knife or, maybe more realisticly, a scalpel. Spirit closed his eyes hard, wishing he could take back the question. Neither of them would ever have an answer, of course, and they both knew it. The not knowing was killing him… he couldn’t imagine what it was doing to Stein.

The silver-haired man shrugged smally, not saying anything, and started to walk away without another word. Finally looking up, Spirit reached forward and grabbed him by the wrist, halting him.

“I’m sorry,” Spirit said finally, the words falling hopelessly from his lips.

“You have no need to be,” Stein replied, not so much as turning to look at him.

“I do. I should have stood up for you. Instead, I let everyone think you were some sort of lunatic. You could’ve been expelled from the academy because of me, or worse! And I wasn’t even man enough to face you afterwards.”

“You think I didn’t know that would happen?” the madman said coldly. He finally turned to face him, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose to conceal his eyes. “I calculated the risk in my actions from the very beginning, Spirit. I knew you’d let me cut you open, and I knew you’d burn me back for it. I made you choose between your reputation and me, and you chose exactly as I expected.”

“Then why do it? Why ever risk it to begin with? Didn’t you… didn’t you care at all about what we had?”

Stein sighed a wispy, skull-like puff of smoke into the air in front of him. “I needed to know.”

Spirit felt his posture loosen, his very foundation shattered by the sound of the meister’s voice. A bystander may have brushed it off, but the dull drop in Stein’s voice was something that Spirit could feel in his soul. He could still remember Stein’s words all those years ago: “I’m doing it to know.” It had never struck him as strange before. Knowledge was all that ever seemed to matter to Stein. But Spirit had never realized before that Stein’s real experiment had little to do with the meticulous incisions and stitches, little to do with the glory of scientific discovery. He was studying Spirit, yes, but it was far more than just his body.

“And what did you learn?” the weapon asked quietly.

“I learned that you would choose your reputation over me,” he replied plainly, “As I expected you would. It was comforting to know I was correct.”

“Comforting to know I would betray you?”

Stein seemed to choke back a laugh. “I’ve never viewed myself as a victim, Spirit, and I’d appreciate if you stopped insinuating as much,” he replied, “But, if you must know, the experiment ran a bit deeper than that. It was about love.”

Spirit’s eyebrows furrowed downward, a confused look coming over him. “Love? What are you on about?”

The mad scientist shrugged. “It’s not something I have ever understood, really, but I know it exists. I always doubted that I was capable of feeling such a thing, so I tested it. I concluded that if I still cared about you despite your act of betrayal, then it must’ve been what people call love. There was no other way to test it than to let you betray me.”

“And… what did you learn?” he asked again, his voice trembling.

“That love is an idiotic thing. It exists without reason and without purpose, and it defies all logic.”

Spirit finally let go of his wrist, letting his arm drop down to his side. He tried to meet Stein’s eyes, but the glare of his glasses prevented it. He felt his face start to burn red. “You’re an idiot,” he said, turning around with a pout.

“Maybe so,” he replied. “I have work to finish up here. Meet me later for dinner? I’d like to discuss our options about the Demon Sword.”

Spirit nodded, realizing again that it felt as if nothing had changed between them. “Of course. I’ll see you then.”

Writing Tag ↓ | Pinned | Writing Masterlist | Kofi | Etsy

#roan writes #i purely believe everything between them could've been/was resolved with a real quick conversation (as i have demonstrated here)#soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #soul eater stein #soul eater spirit #franken stein #professor stein #dr stein #spirit albarn #death scythe #stein x spirit #spirit x stein #CrossStitch #if you read this im sorry but no you didn't

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ravewoodx · 2 years

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#soul #soul x maka #soul x reader #soul evans #maka albarn #maka and soul #soul eater #soul eater fanart #soul eater fanfiction #soul eater fandom #soul fan

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xhanisai · 6 months

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"Just because you've become a Death Scythe doesn't mean you're allowed to be all chummy and close with my precious, innocent, angelic, little Maka!"

Usually, Soul would have rolled his eyes and either walked off without a word or thrown the insults back at the stupid father till the man was crying out his daughter's name pathetically on the floor where he belonged. However, the ruby-eyed teen was just completely exhausted and tired from having to deal with all these dangerous missions, dealing with Black☆Star's and Kid's dramatics, dealing with HOMEWORK of all things and even dealing with his stubborn Maka— Meister from constantly squirming and being a bit of a brat every time he patches her up after said dangerous missions and just so much more.

So he decided to finish off Maka's clown-of-a-father with the killing blow.

#my writing #soul eater #soul x maka #soma #soul eater fanfiction #fellas i did it and i know it's like less than 2k words #which is nothing to my 20k word oneshots #BGUT I WROTE A LITTLE SOMETHING #AND IT IS FUNNY AND NOT ANGSTY AT ALL

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silluuuu · 2 months

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One for the Road, ch. 6

after a lot of blood, sweat and tears (mostly tears), this chapter is complete!! for some beloved 2000s tropes, the official introduction of the Evans parents, a lot of Tree Symbolism and more, look no further than chapter 6!! 🌳💋📅🧦🎷

thank u a bajillion times as always to @toweroftunes for the beta and encouragement and constant music-tossing. ur the BEST EVR, 4real. (putting my 2000s textspeak to good use, hahaha) <3

#one for the road #my writing #soul eater fanfiction #soulxmaka

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illubean · 2 months

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👉👈 hello there! :>

Would some Headcanons about Death The Kid with a reader who's kuudere with everyone but tsundere towards him be okay?

DtK with a Kuu/Tsundere

Characters: Death the Kid Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

random but I think he would listen to twice

Warnings: none

Kid was enamored of you

there was something about your cool and aloof personality that drew him towards you

but what he couldn't understand was why you were so mean to him

he doesn't think he's done anything wrong to you and really wishes you would just tell him if he did

he's under the impression you just don't like him and chalks it up to him being "asymmetrical garbage" :(((

after a week or so of him sulking Liz gets sick of his shit and tells him it's actually the exact opposite

but Kid never listens to her does he

so she calls an emergency Girls (+ Kid) meeting

Maka tells him "They're mean to you because they like you. It might be because they have a hard time expressing it otherwise."

and Tsubaki is like "There's a word for that in Japanese. They're called Tsunderes!"

and with that one word everything finally clicks for Kid

all the times you've snapped at him or made sassy comments with a red face wasn't out of anger

you were blushing

he's a lot less butthurt about it now that he's got you all figured out

every time you say something snappy he's like :3 cus he knows you dont mean it

sometimes he likes to respond a certain way to see you get flustered

and one day he decides to confess so suave omgg

"You're an idiot." "An idiot who wants to take you out."

is he a little embarassed? yes but he already has confirmation you like him back and the way you're quick to turn away from him confirms it

but yeah now that he see's past your facade you are dating and so happy yayy

he doesn't mind your 'tsundere' behavior all too much after that

do not call him asymmetrical tho he will cry

#soul eater fanfic #soul eater #soul eater x reader #soul eater fanfiction #soul eater headcanons #death the kid x reader #death the kid soul eater #death the kid #dtk x reader #dtk soul eater #soul eater dtk #dtk

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silentexplorer18 · 1 month

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Of Ninja Meisters and Unskilled Weapons

Kakashi Hatake x Reader

Fandom fusion of Naruto and Soul Eater

Graduation is supposed to be the best-ever first day of the rest of your life. But when you're paired with Ninja-Meister Kakashi, an academy graduate notorious for not wanting a weapon, the first day of the rest of your life is anything but exciting. As you and Kakashi slowly begin to understand one another, you both learn that communication is the only way to overcome kishins and your reservations.

There was a question eating away at him. One he’d been wanting to ask since that evening of shared tea. Ever since that strangely intimate night. “What’s my soul like?” Kakashi’s expression remained carefully neutral, even if he was secretly curious. You hummed, and silent contemplation stretched between you for one long, slow moment before you murmured, “Guarded.” You sighed, nose tucking into the space between his shoulder and neck, and Kakashi had the good sense to feel slightly embarrassed by your response. “Very, very guarded.”

Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Reader, Hatake Kakashi, Franken Stein, Spirit Albarn | Death Scythe, Umino Iruka, Marie Mjolnir, Yuuhi Kurenai, Shinigami-sama | Lord Death, Nakatsukasa Masamune

Tags: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Ambivalent companions to friends to lovers, Kishins, battle, blood and injury, major character injury, chakra, fluff and angst, happy ending, slow burn, cuddling and snuggling, injury recovery, Stein is the bestest friend ever, mild language

Chapter One is on AO3!

#kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake x reader #hatake kakashi #hatake kakashi x reader #naruto #naruto fanfiction #soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #silent writes

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crypticpawpoems · 2 months

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Crona Haiku

Blood is black, you know

I don’t know how to deal with that

The snake controls me

#poem #poetry #fan poem #fan fiction #soul eater #anime #manga #crypticpaw #poets of tumblr #authors of tumblr #writers of tumblr #dark #soul eater fanfiction #crona #crona gorgon #crona soul eater #soul eater crona

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bcbdrums · 3 months

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Persuasion

A Soul Eater fanfic. Read on: AO3 | FFn

A/N: Monthly OTP prompt fills from this list for Spirit and Stein, because I cannot stop writing about them. I'm happy to hear recommendations each month for which prompt to write next. This month's chosen prompt: 1. First Kiss Shamelessly inspired by the fanfic "Feeling Needed" by NothingSoDivine. (@asymmetryestablished) Wrote this all in one evening while half asleep, straight through, no edits or even proofread (yikes oh well). And placeholder title is...a placeholder, if you have a better one, give it to me! And it was still January in my timezone, this still counts! Enjoy some academy babies.

Persuasion

Stein straightened from his lean against the wall at the corner of the courtyard when he realized he'd been crossing his arms. Spying on his weapon was bad enough without making it too obvious that he disapproved of his activities when the older teen would inevitably wander his way.

Spirit was currently occupied with another weapon from their class, nearer to Stein's age if he was remembering correctly. Her hair was blonde and caught the sun in the way that one couldn't help but look, and Stein had to admit that its radiance even outshone the heartblood red of Spirit's. Her eyelashes were dark like her leather jacket and mini-skirt, and the red of her lips matched the soft, low-cut shirt she wore that was just visible through the open front of the jacket.

Spirit was clearly enthralled by her appearance, but the only thing Stein found truly of note was the cigarette that dangled precariously from the girl's lips as she laughed at whatever Spirit was saying. Stein had watched her skill three times at keeping the small stick in its proper place when she flashed her teeth, and he was starting to wonder if it had anti-gravitational properties.

Spirit abruptly straightened, and Stein unthinkingly did the same, the older teen's posture putting him on alert. Some form of goodbye was about to take place, and then Stein would have his weapon back until the next time a member of the curvier sex caught his eye. Which was more and more frequent as of late.

But then the girl did something that caused Stein to startle forward a step, his eyes widening on the pair. She took a long drag from her cigarette, and then held it away from her as she set her other hand on Spirit's shoulder and rose up on her toes. Spirit's fingers hovered near her waist when her mouth found his, and Stein watched the girl's lips part, surround Spirit's, and his eyes go wide before closing in reaction to whatever appealed about the physicality of the moment.

But it was more than a kiss, as Stein watched the girl finally pull away with a smirk. Spirit blinked, looking surprised, and then slowly blew the smoke out from between his lips, watching it curl upward and away. Stein was also blinking repeatedly, having never conceived of an exchange like that.

He was still processing the mechanics of it when Spirit waved goodbye to his date, the cigarette now between his fingers as she turned to cross the courtyard toward the girls' dormitories. The redhead turned a moment later to head in the path that would lead back to the nicer student apartments. Stein was still too stunned by what he had seen to move to either depart or make greeting, simply watching the weapon approach wearing an expression that was something between dreamy and utterly stunned.

"Oh! Stein!" Spirit exclaimed when he practically bumped into the meister. "What are... Were you watching me?"

"Yes," Stein said simply as he moved to stand at his weapon's side and match his pace.

Spirit sighed shakily. "That's creepy, you know. Most people would be really put off by that."

"I know. So what was this one's name?"

A huff was Spirit's initial response, and then a brightening of his eyes as he frowned down in the meister's direction. Stein's smirk didn't reach his lips, but he knew Spirit could see it in his eyes.

"I know her name! It's..."

Stein did smile then as Spirit floundered, mumbling pieces of words and names to himself as his brow twisted in confusion. Ever since the first time the red-haired weapon had come home and been unable to recall the name of his date, Stein had teased him on the topic.

"Kelly!" Spirit suddenly exclaimed in triumph, and then he brought the gifted cigarette to his lips as he grinned.

"So you smoke now?" Stein asked, noting the slight grimace on the taller teen's face as he experimented with an inhale.

"Trying it out. She gave me the rest of her pack."

Stein was curious too, but less about the cigarettes than what he had witnessed in farewell between the two hormone-driven weapons. His heart pounded as his mind raced ahead to the potential conclusion of what he suddenly realized he wanted, but had absolutely no agency to achieve.

"That looked complicated," he ventured as they walked.

"Hmm?"

Stein watched as Spirit blew the smoke out slowly, his brow pinching slightly as he assessed the experience.

"The way she gave you all that smoke."

"Oh," Spirit said, his cheeks flushing slightly as he stared straight ahead. "Yeah."

"How did you know to open your mouth? Did she blow the smoke in?"

"Uh, well...kinda... You're supposed to open your mouth a bit when kissing," Spirit answered, beginning to look uncomfortable. His stride lengthened and Stein kept pace, having already anticipated his partner's nerves.

"I don't understand how any of it could be pleasurable."

Spirit was looking a bit more perplexed as their steps took them toward their apartment. The sun had begun to set, and its rays shining off of Spirit's hair gave the red locks a vibrant, golden hue. Stein felt an urgency about what he was after as he watched the cigarette burn down below halfway, but he knew he was just as likely to frustrate and anger the weapon by his persistent questioning. But as he didn't think he would ever have it within him to voice the words 'kiss me,' his chosen method would have to suffice.

"Doesn't it trigger the gag reflex to have something put in your mouth?"

Spirit's brow furrowed. They had just reached the entry of the apartment complex, and the weapon had pushed through the first set of double-doors into the security vestibule.

"And doesn't the smoke burn?" Stein continued, trying to keep any cynicism out of his tone. He knew that as soon as the weapon had an escape into his bedroom, he'd have lost his chance. But it was probably a futile effort to begin with. There wasn't any type of psychology Stein could use to make his weapon understand his desire without giving away too much, and he was certain beyond a doubt that Spirit Albarn had never entertained the idea of kissing a boy.

The weapon had been repeatedly silent in response, and Stein's mind was racing for another leading question so anxiously that he hadn't noticed Spirit had stopped walking until the redhead turned to face him. Stein's thoughts slowed at the look on his weapon's face, regarding him with nervous resignation.

"You want to try it, don't you."

Stein processed Spirit's tone before the actual words, his voice low and the words breathy as he seemed to sigh them out. Stein hadn't anticipated success, and blood was suddenly hammering in his ears as the teal of the weapon's eyes remained fixed on his, awaiting a response.

A curt nod was the most Stein could manage as he attempted to swallow the lump that was suddenly in his throat. Spirit's brow rose in curiosity, and Stein hoped that whatever was written on his face was less than the panic that had suddenly swept his entire being.

Spirit sighed again. "I'd say find someone else for your experiments, but...I know how that would turn out."

Spirit glanced from left to right through the glass doors, and then lifted the cigarette to his lips and inhaled long and slow.

Stein suddenly realized that this was no longer a barely-formed idea in his mind, but it was actually happening. Protests and questions rushed across his brain half-formed, none able to be spoken as the words wouldn't come together. He wanted to tell Spirit to wait, to ask how to begin. But every thought fled when the weapon's fingers rested feather-light on his cheek, his pinky finger under Stein's jaw and pulling slightly to tilt his face upward.

Spirit took a step closer, and then leaned down. Stein was certain his eyes were wide with the fright he suddenly felt as they darted between Spirit's half-lidded teal ones and the approach of lips. But the weapon had committed to the action, and in the moment Stein resolved he couldn't back down, Spirit's mouth met his.

The touch was hot like fire, and soft like nothing Stein had ever felt. He wanted to pull away, yet he wanted to fall into the warmth that radiated off his partner and seemed to be welcoming him into safety. His skin was tingling all over as if it was more than his lips Spirit was touching, and a peace he'd never known began to fall over him, slowly offering relief like shelter from a storm.

Stein was about to close his eyes and surrender to the sensations that were beginning to overwhelm him, but then unfocused in front of him, Spirit's eyes opened. In a rush, he remembered the purpose of badgering his weapon into intimacy, and then cautiously let the tension he'd unknowingly put into his jaw fall slack. Spirit's fingers became more firm against his cheek, and then his lips were sealing gently over the slight parting of Stein's. The pressure of Spirit's lips against his own sent a fresh rush of heat across his senses, and then the smoke poured hot into his mouth, pooled across his tongue and hit high in the back of his throat.

It wasn't an immediate pleasure, and he pinched his eyes closed as he fought against the instinct to gag. But then he felt a different type of rush as the drug entered his system, bringing an artificial lightness that he couldn't decide in the moment if he cared for or not. Especially not when there were far more interesting sensations, like Spirit's lips beginning to close and pull softly upon his own.

When he felt the weapon pulling away, Stein's fingers found Spirit's elbow in blind pursuit of an anchor, and to his dismay a soft sound like a whimper escaped his throat. He opened his eyes again as Spirit's lips finally left his, a feeling of cold abandonment taking the place of the fire. The redhead's brow twisted in confusion, and Stein just barely had the presence of mind to close his lips to prevent the smoke's escape even as his lungs felt near to bursting from lack of oxygen.

The latter need took over, and Stein felt the sensitive membranes of his nasal passages burn as he blew most of the smoke out through his nose and then let the rest escape his mouth without grace, a few uncontrolled coughs following. His grip on Spirit's elbow tightened, and the redhead gave a single hum of a laugh as he smiled and let his hand fall to rest on Stein's shoulder.

"What do you think?" Spirit asked quietly.

Stein's head was reeling, and beyond the fixed point of Spirit's bright eyes and hair it felt like the room was sat upon a roiling ocean. He stared up at Spirit as he willed his senses back to calm, as he tried to catch his breath and bring his heart rate back to human norms. He blinked against reflexive tears as the smoke somehow stung his eyes, and another cough was the only response he was able to manage.

Spirit made another humming sound like a laugh, and his gaze softened even more.

"You'll probably need more experience before you know if you like it or not."

Whether the implication was deliberate or accidental, Stein knew the obvious interpretation had reached his eyes for the way Spirit's own widened and stared back at him, his skin suddenly flushing pink. Stein was sure his own pale cheeks were, for once, equally awash with color.

"Uh... I mean..." Spirit said stumbling, his breaths quickening.

"So..." a deep voice sounded from the doorway.

The sound of the new presence intruding upon the world Stein was still spinning within wasn't quite startling enough to bring his senses back to earth, but it caused Spirit to jump and back away from Stein as if he'd been struck by lightning. And for the heat still prickling soft over his lips, Stein wasn't so sure he hadn't been.

"Sid!" Spirit cried, voice high with panic. "What, uh...uh... D-Don't sneak up on people like that!"

"So..." the younger teen repeated, "if anybody asks me, you two weren't just—"

"No!" Spirit fairly shrieked, his voice going high.

"And you're not smoking on Academy property."

Stein suddenly found the smoldering butt of the cigarette pushed between his fingers as Spirit sputtered something else in protest that Stein didn't bother listening to. He was focused on the flush over Spirit's cheeks and the peace that seemed to have wrapped itself around him like a blanket—a feeling he was determined to hold on to for as long as it would stay.

Sid walked past them and into the building and Spirit followed, babbling his frustrations all the while. Stein trailed just a step behind, watching the red of Spirit's hair as they continued the journey to their apartment.

He brought the cigarette up and took a tentative inhale, leaving his fingers against his lips. If anyone asked, he wasn't trying to hold that tingling sensation as long as possible. He wasn't trying to memorize the way Spirit's mouth had shaped itself to his.

And he definitely wasn't planning on further experiments.

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