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tainsan · 1 year ago

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misfits III (college!ateez x reader)

{a/n: this one is a little bit crazy so buckle up!}

do not steal my work or repost on places other than tumblr.

taglist: @lilactangerine @plutoneu @abby-grace @sunkissed725 @lixiel0ver @acciocriativity @hyukssunflower @sunukissed @khjcoo @stopeatread @meginthebuilding27 @mychickentendou @sunnyhokyu @rxnexxi @croa-yevon @arabelleum @randomness7198 @dysftopia @lucymultistan @sookacc @starillusion13 @daceydeath @theamazinggrace-00 @smilingtokki @hasgalore @pytssamworld @just-a-really-bored-kpop-fan

i{f you asked to be in the tag list and dont see your name, I am incredibly sorry but your account cannot be tagged. Again, my apologies.}

-----THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT-----

⇢ master list ⇠

previous chapter ⇠ ⇢ next chapter

warnings: small anxiety attack, someone is a dickhead to reader

word count: 7k

_______

“I’m sorry I just can’t....

”“What do you mean?” Wooyoung’s voice is full of remorse as he cuts your words off. Yeosang can feel his heart drop down to his stomach.

“Let me finish,” you say softly, “I was going to say I just can’t believe this is happening.”

Wooyoung tilts his head to the side, whereas Yeosang’s hands gripped tightly, his nails digging into his palm.

“What do you mean?” Wooyoung repeats himself, not understanding the situation.

“Look I’ll spare you the sob story but my entire life I’ve kind of been treated like shit, it’s extremely hard to believe that something incredible like this is happening, it doesn’t seem real at all,” you admit, looking at your hands which are now full of sweat. Your comment pierces the hearts of the two males standing in front of you.

“It’s happening, okay?” Yeosang takes your hands into his own, and you fail to see the way Wooyoung’s jaw clenches, “sometimes bad things fall apart for good things to fall into place.” Your heart stops for a second as the words leave his mouth. It was something your mother used to say when you were younger. You aren’t sure if it was his words or the way he was caressing your hands in his, but something made you not able to move an inch. “I think…”

Abruptly your words are cut off by the sound of the front door opening, and some noisy voices entering into the building. Looking between Yeosang and Wooyoung, you realise the rest of the house was finished with their classes and now home. Much to your dismay, you were hoping to only have to talk to one or two people today. Silently hoping that none of them go to this room, you take your hands away from Yeosang’s grasp wiping the sweat on the sides of your legs. Yet your hopes are crushed when you hear multiple footsteps pounding around outside. Of course, this room had to be so close to the kitchen. You hear a familiar voice call out for Wooyoung and Yeosang, causing your heart to clench momentarily. They seem to notice your behaviour change, not answering the call, still studying your body language, and trying to figure out how to get you out of this situation. Their efforts are futile though, as you hear a knocking on the door.

“Don’t tell me you are dwelling in this room waiting for,” the door opens, and you see San scanning the room. His eyes widen as he makes eye contact with you, not being able to believe you are here.

“___? You came?” His voice is soft yet the hints of enthusiasm that spill through his cold exterior are unmistakeable. It’s the first time you’ve seen San since the tutoring session, however, you aren’t as ecstatic as you thought you’d be to see him again, wishing it was under different circumstances.

Not grasping how to proceed, all you do is wave in response, a forced smile plastered on your features. Fortunately for you, San is fairly able to read the situation, noticing the way your body is tensed up and uncomfortable. He too speedily tries to think of a way to help you, but unfortunately, the only way to get out is through the kitchen it seems hopeless, and he isn’t about to let you go out through the window, as much as you’d gladly throw yourself out right now.

“Sannie what is taking so long?” You hear another familiar voice get closer to the door. Realising there is no way out of this situation, you grudgingly decide to trail the three men out of the room headed for the kitchen. As your eyes make contact with the kitchen, you see five men either sitting or standing around the island, talking boisterously about what seems to be for dinner tonight. Groceries are laid across the island in multiple plastic bags. You can recognise Jongho and Mingi, which makes you feel a little at ease, yet when your eyes land on Hongjoong, your heart races even quicker remembering the act with him two days ago. You immediately take your eyes away from him and that’s when your eyes land on two unfamiliar faces, they must be Seonghwa and Yunho. They both have black hair and are undeniably stunning. It is Jongho who looks towards where you and the three others are entering, his smile growing on his face when he sees his roommates, the first time you’ve seen his full smile and it makes you comprehend how close they must all be. Luckily, none of the men in the kitchen sees you half hiding behind Yeosang.

“What took you so long?,” he says, feigning annoyance. At that moment all the guys look at you, and you hide entirely behind Yeosang, not knowing what to do. It’s one thing being with three of the Ateez members, let alone all of them in one space.

“Who is that?” You hear Mingi's query. ‘Fuck’ you think, knowing he noticed you, even though you were expertly disappeared behind Yeosang’s broad figure. Wooyoung looks to his left and observes you almost flat against Yeosang’s back, concealing from the view. His attempts to hold back his laugh and it does not go ignored by the five men in the kitchen.

San bends down slightly to meet your ear, “Just come out, nothing bad is going to happen.” His voice is again soothing and calm, only you Wooyoung and Yeosang hear it.

Not realizing you are hiding behind him, Yeosang turns to see what is occurring behind his back. Due to his motion, you are uncovered to the five men residing in the kitchen. As their eyes meet you, there are mixed responses seen across the room. Jongho’s smile spreads throughout his face, Mingi has a sort of shocked-glad look adorning his expression, and you swear you see the corners of Hongjoong’s lip turn up ever so vaguely. However, the two men you are new to have unreadable looks on their faces. A deathly silence follows your reveal behind Yeosang, and he feels extremely guilty for uncovering your concealment.

Before you can say hello, one of the two unidentified faces stands up from his chair behind the island, and you notice he is incredibly tall and well-built, he is undeniably the tallest of the group, his height reaching above Mingi’s.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” His voice is venomous and cruel. He does not utter another word before storming past San, bumping roughly into his shoulder, definitely on purpose. Then disappearing into one of the bedrooms behind you. Sighs are heard from the kitchen, some seeming shocked yet some of them appear as if they expected it.

Looking over to your left, confusion on your face, you go to ask San if he is okay from the impact of the tall male.

“I’m fine,” San replies, his scowl being replaced by a light smile, momentarily feeling delighted you are concerned about his health. You fail to notice the way the six others in the room frown at the man who has your consideration.

“San,” Hongjoong speaks out, getting the notice of the male next to you. His voice is authoritative and sharp, but not in a foul-mouthed way. Rolling his eyes, San moves away from you and towards the room where the man who just stormed off was residing in. Gently, Wooyoung places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards the kitchen, his fingers on fire from the contact with you.

“So how do you like the house? I’m sure Wooyoung and Yeosang have given you a good tour?” Hongjoong asks you as you are still in your place, Wooyoung swiftly takes a place to your right whereas Hongjoong takes a place to your left. Yeosang grumbles as he makes his way towards the empty seat across the island.

“Um yes, it’s lovely.” You reply, your voice is hushed and soft. Hongjoong’s look is unfazed.

“That’s great. So, when are you moving in?” He is straightforward with his words and the inquiry hangs in the room causing the others to become tense for your reply, not sure if you are moving in or not. The harsh actions of the man bounce around in your brain, and you are not even sure if it was Yunho or Seonghwa, or if that was even their name.

“It’s a great place but isn’t it going to look kind of weird if I’m living with eight guys?” you reply truthfully, deciding to ignore your many thoughts and questions about what just happened. You are hoping for people to not be assuming things, if you were to live here, you’d prefer people not to know. Knowing that if it got out you were living with them, then the attention directed towards you would be extreme and way too much for you to handle.

This time Wooyoung replies “We thought you might say that. But it’s not like you have to share a bed with any of us,” he bends down to your level once again, “unless you want to.”

You are extremely taken by surprise by this comment, your cheeks heating up almost instantly. It’s the first time anyone has ever spoken to you like this and you definitely have no idea how to react.

Noticing your stunned expression, Mingi quickly steps in, “he’s just joking, don’t take anything he says too seriously.” Rolling his eyes, Wooyoung moves away from your frame, resting down on the barstool next to you.

“I see this is what you meant by overbearing?” You ask Hongjoong, half joking, half serious. However, the look on Wooyoung’s face, when the word comes out of your mouth, is too amusing to not laugh at. He has an open mouth and places his hand over his heart, simulating to be offended.

“In a way, yes,” Hongjoong responds, his lips twitching up a little.

“To answer your question,” you start, all the men in the room holding their breaths in suspense, not knowing what the answer would be, “if I am to move in here, I want to ask some questions, if that’s okay.”

They breathe out slowly in relief, it’s not a definitive no, they still have a chance.

“What would those be?” You look over to the person who asked the question, it is the man you are unfamiliar with. His voice is deep but smooth, like honey. For the first time, your eyes make direct contact with his and for some reason it feels like it’s not the first time your eyes have met his. It feels like there are lost memories in his eyes, and if you look close enough, you will be able to recover them. There is a strong emotion on his face, it’s concentrated and undeniable, yet you can’t quite grasp what exactly the emotion is. You stare long into his deep eyes, wanting some sort of answer to a question you don’t even know the words to. Swiftly you break the eye contact, avoiding getting lost in the familiarity of his gaze. The small interaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the group and they are momentarily worried that there was something wrong, or maybe that you realised something.

“Um, well first I want to know if I’m allowed to have friends over?” You query, hoping they say yes. If you are going to live here, you better be able to have Jisung over. Sleepovers are a must for the two, if you need the space from everything to just be together and talk about all the little things.

“It’s preferred not,” Hongjoong answers directly. Immediately feeling a little bummed, you start to frown, making a mental tally of the pros and cons.

“But if it’s only Jisung it’s okay. As long as you let us know if he’s coming over.” Jongho quickly adds, ignoring the way Hongjoong sends a deathly glare in his direction. Jongho sends the look back, knowing he is in the right. Nodding at the extra information, you think about your next question.

“What is food like here, do we buy food separately and eat by ourselves or do we share?”

It is silent for a second before Hongjoong answers, it seems like he is the one in charge of the way things roll around here. Makes sense why they call him ‘captain’ “We eat breakfast and lunch separately most of the time, but for dinner, we will always eat together, unless we are busy with work or assignments.” You find this sweet and smile to yourself hearing this answer. It’s been a while since you’ve eaten dinner with people like a family. Always liking communal dinners, this goes as a pro in your books.

“I have some things I want though, if I am to move here.” You declare, trying to sound as authoritative as Hongjoong, but likely failing. Yet, the men around you nod and let you continue, with smiles on their faces.

“It sounds dumb, but you’d have to knock on my door before entering.”

“Done.”

“No eating my food if it’s in the fridge.”

This time Yeosang talks up, “We have some rules about that too, just make sure you put your name on it, and then it’s yours.”

Mingi also adds to the conversation, “And if it’s in there for longer than a week then we throw it out, just so we don’t have unnecessary space being filled.” This makes you feel relieved, glad that it is somehow so organized in this house. In your past experiences in shared dorms, you have always seemed to have bad luck with roommates. Eating your food, being unnecessarily noisy at ungodly hours, being overall dickheads and just nuisances.

“We have a question.” The nameless man is talking now, you try to make eye contact with him yet fail miserably, resorting to just nodding in his direction, hoping he doesn’t take it as being rude. “If you have any issues like illnesses or allergies, we’d like to know just in case we need to avoid certain foods and things?”

“Well, I don’t have any illnesses or allergies, just some problems with mental health I guess.” You disclose, uncomfortable to be sharing this information with so many strangers at once. Some part of you wonders why you even said it. They did not need to know that they meant physical illnesses. Whatever, if they are going to be your roommates they might as well know, you guess. The shoulders of the man who questioned you drop slightly, yet strangely he nods as if he already knew the answer. Luckily, they do not ask further questions about your mental state, much to your relief.

“Any more questions?” Hongjoong inquires.

“Please don’t go into my room without my permission. It’s not like I’m hiding anything, I just need the privacy.”

“That’s fine, we also prefer it that way too, snooping in other rooms is not acceptable here.” Hongjoong reacts to your statement causing you to nod and beam gratefully for the consideration.

“What do I have to do regarding the rent payments? Would I need to go somewhere so they can process my move?”

“We have that sorted out already, all you would need to do is sign a form and contract which I can show you later.”

“Okay fine.” You utter, almost as if you were holding in a breath for years. Around you, the five men look positive, hoping what you’re leading to is what they desire to hear. You continue, “When can I move in?”

Wooyoung and Mingi jump up from their chairs, Yeosang sits up straight, not believing his ears, Jongho and the nameless man seem to share a relieved look, and for the first time, you see Hongjoong’s smile reaches his eyes.

“I have one last question though,” You start speaking again looking towards the male who you have not met before, “I’m sorry I don’t know your name yet.”

His eyes open hugely, and he answers, “When they said you didn’t know about us, they weren’t lying,” he rises from his chair and makes his way toward you, making you ever more confused as to why his face is so familiar, reaching out his hand softly to shake yours, “I’m Seonghwa, and the other guy was Yunho.”

Taking his hand in yours, you shake his hand with a small smile on your face, when he smiles back, you swear you could’ve fainted from his beauty. You are starting to understand why this whole group is so popular. Seonghwa lets go of your hand gently, before turning back to his chair and sitting back down, though the beam on his features does not falter as he keeps secretly stealing glances at you. Deciding to reply to his comment, you speak up, “As I’ve said before, I live under a rock,”

“She said she doesn’t give a shit about us,” Wooyoung says, teasing you further.

“Hey, I said that I didn’t care about all the gossip and group stuff, and with no offence,” You glare playfully at him, bringing your finger up to your mouth to jokingly signal him to keep his mouth closed. His smile is contagious as he reaches up and ruffles the top of your head, the action making your heart skip a few beats. Immediately looking down at your hands, avoiding Wooyoung’s eyes, you miss the envious stares pointed at the second youngest.

“Do you not care about the rumours surrounding us?” This time it’s Mingi who talks. As fast as you can blink, the entire room is thick with tension, and you can feel the glares pointed towards the man who spoke up. Pondering on your answer for a second you decide to answer truthfully.

“I’ll be honest, I was a little worried,” The men around you deflate with sadness filling their hearts, and Yeosang and Mingi start to feel the familiar anxious feeling in their throats. You resume talking, “But in the end, rumours are just rumours, it’s up to the person hearing them whether they believe it or not.”

“What do you believe?” Seonghwa is quiet as he speaks, careful with his words. It is deathly silent in the room and you start to wonder why they care so much about the way you view them.

“I’m not sure.”

Wooyoung’s eyes start to sting, thinking of any way he can to make you change your mind, to see him for him.

“But so far, I like you guys, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. For now.” For the nth time today, the boys let out deep breaths they didn’t realise they were even holding in.

“So do we have to get into your good books then?” Yeosang jokes, leaning on the island with his arms, breaking the tension and causing small chuckles to sound across the room. At this moment, for a split second, you’re incredibly impressed by the fact they barely speak over each other, always letting each other speak without being ignored. They have likely known each other for a long time, you conclude.

“If you’re up for a challenge? Go ahead.”

“I like our odds.” Hongjoong turns towards you, leaning his body towards the island, smirking lightly. You are confused by Hongjoong’s behaviour and the way it seems to change so easily, but you are guessing you may have to get accustomed to it. The look he gives you is intense and almost seductive, if you’d stare any longer you likely would fall for him. Swiftly looking away, you glance towards your watch to check the time, 17:13.

“How much stuff do you have to move here?” San appears from around the corner, his ears are red and his hair is slightly ruffled, it looks like they had an intense discussion in there, he doesn’t look upset, but there is some emotion along his features, however, it is extremely unreadable and confusing.

“I only have a suitcase of clothes.”

“Do you not have any other furniture?”

“It was burned down in the fire, but the owners of the building are going to reimburse me for the lost things. I just need to go shopping when I have the money and the time.”

All seven men nod in understanding, and then Hongjoong speaks up. “If you want to move in this evening that’s fine with me. Yunho and I will go and help you grab your suitcase.”

“Oh, it’s okay, I can grab it myself, but I appreciate the offer.” It’s one thing to be travelling across campus with two of the members of Ateez, let alone people seeing them walk into your temporary dorm room. Already knowing whispers are going around about Hongjoong entering your class and demanding to speak with you, you aren’t too eager to fuel people’s gossiping needs. You also would rather avoid the person who just stormed out of the room with a bitter look on his face. Not wanting to start anything unnecessary.

“It’s really fine, I’ll get Yunho now,” Hongjoong insists, moving to go towards the room where Yunho is residing, he gets halted in his movements as said man appears in the kitchen.

“If you think I’m going anywhere with her you are wrong, the last thing we need is more rumours being spread so she can get her fifteen seconds of fame.” Yunho’s glare pierces through you, his full height peering down at you, causing you to feel incredibly small.

“Yunho we are going.” Hongjoong declares, his voice easily matching his.

“In your dreams,” The tall male walks nearer to you, stopping when he is directly in front of you. Wooyoung rises from his seat and tries to push Yunho back slightly, but he is overpowered by the taller man. Behind you, the rest of the males stand up from their chairs ready to intervene if things go wrong, yet knowing Yunho, they doubt he would ever hurt you physically. Yunho carries on speaking, “Just because they let you in here doesn’t mean you are welcome.”

“Yunho.” Hongjoong’s voice is stern and threatening, attempting to make Yunho back up. You flinch from the sharpness of Hongjoong’s voice.

“Just because they are nice to you, doesn’t mean I will ever be. You are nothing, you will never be. Stop trying to get into our pants and leave us alone.”

“Yunho, stop.” Seonghwa’s voice booms in the background, causing you to flinch again, yet your eyes cannot break contact with the tall man in front of you. The nerves in your body are on fire, you start to feel nauseous and dizzy. This situation reminds you severely of some of the past encounters you have had with your father. Yunho doesn’t spare a glance toward the two eldest males, his eyes solely focused on you. Finally, he starts to step back slowly. Letting out a scoff at your scared frame, he walks away, back to the room where he emerged from.

Feeling overwhelmed with emotions, you have no idea what to do other than speed to the exit of the house. Seonghwa attempts to stop you as you flee, yet you slip past him. Hongjoong storms after Yunho, slamming the door behind him, making you flinch even more. Feeling tears prick your eyes, you’re hit with flashbacks from long ago which you have tried so hard to push to the back of your mind. Hurriedly pulling on your shoes, not even bothering to grab your jacket on the coat stand, you escape from the house, tears running freely from your eyes. Seonghwa quickly runs after you, reaching you under the light of a dimly light streetlight.

“___.” Seonghwa’s voice calls out from behind you. “___,” he calls one more time before gently grabbing your arm and pulling you towards him. Seeing the tears fall from your eyes makes his heart clench impossibly hard.

“Please come back, you shouldn’t be walking around alone when it’s dark.” Seonghwa is softly spoken, his hand not leaving your upper arm, his thumb unconsciously stroking your exposed skin.

“Look I know you’re not stupid, so if you were in my situation, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to live with someone who just talked to you as if you are nothing more than the dirt underneath their shoe.”

“He doesn’t mean it, trust me. He just has trouble with new people.” Seonghwa tries to explain.

“So do I, but you don’t see me talking to people like they are pieces of shit?”

“It’s been a while since we’ve let someone in our house, let alone live in it. The last time it happened, it didn’t work out too well, he’s just trying to prevent something wrong from happening.” Your features soften slightly at this admission, but still not enough for you to even think about forgiving Yunho and his actions.

“I know I said I was maybe going to live with you guys, but if he is going to be like that all the time, I am not going to able to handle that. It’s too similar, to him, I can’t relive that. You can’t make me relive that.” Your breathing becomes uneven as your throat tightens up in a familiar feeling of panic, flashbacks of the past flashing in your eyes. Dropping down to your knees, Seonghwa catches you in his arms, cradling your limp body. He understands your feelings, and your pain, more than you know. Yet, all he can do right now is comfort you, stroking up slowly up and down your back. Unbeknownst to you, Jongho walks out of the building, your jacket in his hands. Seeing you on the floor, tears falling from your eyes makes his chest tighten. Jongho reaches the two of you, bending down to squat at your level, he wraps your jacket around your shoulders. ‘

“Let’s get your stuff here so you can go to sleep early.” Jongho’s voice is gentle, just above a whisper, he sees you flinch at the thought of going back to the house which makes his chest hurt even more

“Hongjoong is dealing with Yunho, you don’t have to worry about him. You can trust me, ___. Hongjoong has a way of disciplining us” Jongho grabs one of your balled-up fists and helps you to stand up, Seonghwa momentarily missing the warmth of your body against his.

“We will come with you to get your things. I know you’re likely worried about people seeing us with you, we don’t blame you, you don’t want to be a target.” Jongho says.

Wiping away your tears, and calming your breath, you manage to get some words out, “I don’t care about becoming a target, I’m just not a fan of people talking about me behind my back.” I explain.

They both nod in understanding and then Seonghwa says, “You can’t have nowhere to live, ___. We can both promise that Yunho will never speak to you like that again.”

Reluctantly, you nod in agreement. “Okay.” You are surprised by the way you believe the two men so easily, trusting them faster than you have ever trusted anyone before. Of course, not fully, but you can see yourself trusting them in the future, which is weird to you. Very weird.

_______

Walking to the student dorms was an interesting experience, you get to talk to Seonghwa a little bit more learning he is taking an accounting course whilst Jongho is taking a marine biology course. What is interesting is the way they walk so closely to you, since you are outside of the school campus, you don’t mind the looks of random people who you are very sure don’t attend your school.

What you fail to observe is the way they glare at all the males who dare to look towards your direction, moving closer to your smaller frame. However, when you enter the front gate to the campus, the distance between the three of you disperses almost immediately. You feel glad that the two who took you are so understanding of your boundaries and wishes. Strolling behind you, Seonghwa and Jongho are in a distant chat, acting as if they don’t know who you are and just happened to enter at similar times. It makes you feel comfortable and pleased by the kind gestures they show. The trip to the residences is going smoothly until you are suddenly stopped by a very familiar face.

Your walking stops immediately, causing the two walking behind you to halt extremely fast, almost making the youngest trip over as the elder grabs his arm and pulls him to the bush to their left.

“Jeongin! What are you doing here?” You ask the white-haired male, glancing towards the bush where the two men have just bolted for, you see the head of Jongho sticking out slightly and start to worry. Peering back at Jeongin, his smile is contagious, his dimples showing on his cheeks, and you briefly forget the situation.

“I was looking for you, I need some help with this dumb biology lab report, I’ve calculated the results from the experiment over ten times and they are all coming back as inconsistent or inconclusive, I have no idea what I’m doing wrong. I was wondering if you could help me?” Jeongin looks desperate as he hands you his tablet displaying multiple tables with numbers displayed on the screen.

“When is the report due?” You question, praying it isn’t before midnight tonight.

“It’s due on Sunday, before midnight.” He tells you. Glancing down at your watch, you see it’s currently Friday. Perfect.

“Are you free tomorrow? I am a little busy right now.”

“I’m free in the morning, but in the afternoon, I have a date.” You raise your eyebrow at him, slightly proud of him for getting himself a date, knowing his awkwardness around people he has an interest in.

“I’ll see you in the morning then. Meet me in the library at ten?” The boy seems restless, obviously worried about this lab report.

“Hey Jeongin, it’s okay,” you place a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, “we will work it out, just try to get some rest tonight, you need to look good for the lucky person.” At this the young male smiles and gives you, his thanks. He bids you a goodbye, before walking away, likely to his residency.

Looking around you for any sign of people, then surely there is no one near, you make your way to the bush and the sight almost makes you topple over with amusement. Jongho has his head in the bush, yet his entire body is showing, and Seonghwa is lying flat on the grass face down, his body straight and stiff.

“You guys can come out.” You can barely hold back your laughter, tears forming in your eyes. Jongho immediately appears from the bush, his hair messy leaves entwined in his brown locks. Seonghwa takes his time standing up, rubbing his back and complaining about his stiffness.

“For a group of people who is supposedly terrifying, you guys aren’t that scary at all,” you admit, reaching into Jongho’s hair to take out the loose leaves. Seonghwa secretly curses at the younger, wishing he was the one who put his head in the bush.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jongho says, cheeks red from your actions, “Who was that by the way?”

Seonghwa and Jongho both have curious looks on their faces, mixed with something else unreadable. You are starting to get tired of the difficulty reading the eight men you’ve briefly met.

“That was Jeongin, he’s in the same friend group as Jisung,”

“Are you guys close?” Seonghwa asks, acting as if he isn’t interested but you can tell he is slightly curious.

“Not particularly, he comes to me for advice with dating sometimes, he always ends up dating guys who are huge red flags.”

The two men in front of you let out ohs of realisation, feeling suddenly embarrassed about their questions.

“Okay, you guys wait here whilst I get my suitcase.” You turn towards the entrance of the building, but quickly you revolve back around to face Seonghwa and Jongho, “stay away from the bushes.”

The trip to Yeji’s apartment is quick, just throwing the last few things into the suitcase before zipping it up and trudging it down the stairs because of course, the elevator is never in order. As you reach the exit, you use your back to open the door. Weirdly, as you look around, you don’t see the two you left there earlier. You start to think they have abandoned you leaving you to walk back all alone. Or maybe they don’t even want you to come to their house, only playing around with you. They only wanted you to feel secure so they could play with your heart.

“You look lost in thought.” A deep voice is heard from your right, as you look over you see Seonghwa with Jongho and your worries quickly melt away.

“I was starting to think you had left me alone.” You admit, feeling relieved they didn’t disappear into thin air. Your anxious overthinking dispersing very quickly.

“Sorry, we saw a group of people walk out of the building, so we quickly went to the back,” Jongho explains, feeling upset that they made you second-doubt them.

Jongho holds your suitcase, even though you told him not to, he simply ignores your complaints as he walks with it. The way back home is similar to the walk there, however, this time Seonghwa and Jongho pay more attention to their surroundings, knowing there will likely be some creepy men around this area during the late hours of the night, and make sure you feel safe with them. During the quiet walk home, you take this time to think about the past few hours, from arriving at the house to the tour and the occurrence with Yunho. At this moment you decide that you’re not going to cower down from Yunho, you will just live with it. You’ve done it before; you can do it again. Besides, you’re not alone, you have at least seven people who will be kind and welcoming to you. If this is the price you have to pay for an amazing accommodation, then so be it.

The second you reach the house, Mingi throws open the door, extremely relieved you decided to return, his smile covering his entire face.

“I made your bed up, I had some spare bedsheets so that’s what’s on your bed for the time being. We can go shopping for some ones that you like when you have the time.” Mingi smiles at you as you make your way back into the house. When Jongho and Seonghwa send him pointed glares, he simply winks at them, proud he was the first to add something of his own to your room. Jongho lifts your suitcase to your room, causing you to thank him profusely. Mingi and Seonghwa follow closely behind you into your room.

“Do you need help unpacking?” San asks, his head popping around your doorframe.

“I think I’ve got it but thank you.” You reply, hoping they drop the subject.

“Are you sure? We’d be happy to help.” Seonghwa insists, hoping you say yes, just so he can spend more time with you.

“As much as I appreciate it, I’d prefer to sort out some of my clothes myself.” You admit, heat crawling up your neck. Immediately, the four men around you realise the meaning behind your statement, and apologies spill from their mouths too, hoping you didn’t view them as some form of perverts. When you start laughing, their hearts swell, happy they didn’t make anything too awkward. Eventually, you manage to usher them out of the room so you can start organizing your things. It takes about five minutes before you get a knock on your door, feeling a little exhausted from the constant attention, you take your time to make your way to open the door. When you open the door, Wooyoung stands there, a flustered smile placed on his features. In his hand is a plate of food. You momentarily feel bad for taking your time to unlock the door.

“We ate dinner when you were fetching your things, I made sure to leave you some. Next time we will eat dinner all together.” He hands you the plate, it is full of a delicious meal, much fancier than all of the instant meals you buy from the supermarket.

“Thank you Wooyoung.” You gratefully take the plate from him.

“Enjoy.” He says before closing the door behind him as he leaves.

You take your time eating the food, revelling in how delicious it is. It’s the first time in a while that you have had a homecooked meal and it warms up your entire body. You could get used to this.

When you finish your meal, you go to the kitchen to wash up your plate and get a drink of water. After washing your plate, you look up at the vast number of cupboards in the kitchen, not remembering the one which holds the glasses. Opening a few, you see plates, bowls, spices, pasta but no glasses.

“Looking for a glass?” A voice speaks from behind you, shocking you, causing you to almost scream out in surprise. You rapidly turn around to see who it is who spoke.

“I’m sorry, did I scare you?” the owner of the voice is Hongjoong. His face has an amused grin plastered on it.

“Uh yeah, sorry I wasn’t expecting you to just appear behind me.”

Hongjoong is standing directly against the island, just about a metre between the two of you. Silently, you wonder how on earth he managed to get there without you hearing him.

Instead of going around you to grab a glass, he steps forward, his chest almost colliding with yours, trapping you between the counter behind you and his strong frame. Reaching up, he opens the cupboard directly above your head and takes out a glass, placing it on the counter behind you.

When he looks down at you, your eyes are once again getting entranced by his deep pools of honey. Once again, his eyes are familiar to you. The familiarity of his eyes draws you in impossibly close, your mind racing around various memories to see if you can find a match for the mysterious eyes. Where have you seen them before? It’s almost as if you’ve seen them in a dream, vivid in consciousness yes when you try to remember details, it renders empty in your head. Trying to focus on the situation at hand, you stop your attempts of racking your brain for lost information.

Concentrating back on the man in front of you, he makes you feel awfully small once again. Hongjoong isn’t tall, but the way he’s peering down at you, trapping your body against his, makes him feel at least six feet tall.

“Thank you,” you manage to get out, before turning around and grabbing the glass with a deadly grip.

Hongjoong moves back to his previous position, resting back against the island. His eyes follow you as you fill the glass with water.

“Do you like your room?” Hongjoong is calm as he speaks, acting as if nothing had just happened.

“Yes, it’s lovely.” You reply, cursing yourself in your head telling your brain to make your cheeks cool down.

“That’s great to hear. I hope your bed is nice enough for you, I found it super comfortable.”

“Oh yeah! The bed is super comfortable.” Suddenly, his words hit you and they render in your mind, “How do you know it’s comfortable?”

“It used to be my room, the bed too,” Hongjoong confesses, smirking at the way your body language becomes flustered. This explains why the sheets were messy earlier, but that also means he was sleeping in it today. This very statement causes your mind, to again, burst up into a spiral of thoughts. Did Hongjoong give up his room for you? Of course not, why would he ever do that?

“Oh, that’s nice.” Your head is abruptly full of thoughts of Hongjoong residing in your bed. Why are you even thinking about that? It’s not like he is going to be in your bed from now on.

“I’ll let you get to sleep, tomorrow dinner is at seven. Are you able to make that?” The man with dirty blonde hair asks.

You can only nod in response, your words jumbled in your brain. Luckily you only have one class tomorrow, it finishes late, but you can for sure make it for seven.

Hongjoong’s lips turn up ever so slightly, and he nods back at you before departing the kitchen. As he leaves, you watch his figure move towards the staircase, not able to think straight. You would have been better off not knowing the information he just provided. Why would he even give up his room in the first place, did he move out of it because there was something wrong with it? Maybe there are cockroaches in the room. Then you remember where your house is, there is no chance there are cockroaches in such a clean house. What if Seonghwa and Yunho are super loud? Whatever it is, you are likely to find out soon. Now you wish you had asked Hongjoong why he moved out of the room. You decide to ask him another time, not keen on walking up the stairs after him just to ask one question.

Trudging back to your room, you place your glass on your bedside table and grab your phone that was charging. You immediately message Jisung, telling him that you two needed to talk tomorrow. If there’s anyone you can talk about anything to, it’s your best friend. While Jisung is a little immature and chaotic, he is a great listener when he wants to be. Even if he is sometimes all over the place, his advice is most of the time very good and reasonable.

Jisung immediately sends a message asking if you want to talk now, yet the tiredness of the relentless day has caught up to you and you manage to send him one more message before carrying out your night-time routine. Almost jumping into the huge bed, you’re pleasantly surprised by the rich scent emitting from the sheets. Remembering they are Mingi’s sheets, and also Hongjoong’s bed you feel flustered for being so close to something so personal to the boys. However, your thoughts simply disappear as you feel your eyes starting to get heavier. As you fall into a deep sleep, your mind replays the events of the day, you are excited about the future of you living here. Yet the nervousness residing in the bottom of your stomach is still there, yet you have high hopes it will slowly disappear.

----

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writersblog20 · 2 years ago

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Comfort person

Pedro Pascal x reader

Summary: Today was not a good day, completely the opposite actually but yet in all your horrible days, Pedro seemed to stick by your side, not helping the case with your on going crush on the daddy of the internet but when nightmares took over your night, you saw no other option than to knock on Pedro’s door for comfort.

Warnings: mention of death of a loved one (godfather in this case), mention of sleeping pills, mention of anxiety, mention of a panic attack, nightmares, You being the rock of the family, heated kiss and a lot of fluff

Words: 3,4K

A/N: repost because Tumblr decided to be a little bitch and test my last goddamn nerve💀

Comfort person

You and Pedro became close friends when you met at a friends party. You both hit it off great and well you had a crush at the older man before you even met him but now…. God you were completely in love and there was no stopping it. Never ever, did you think Pedro liked you back in that same way. I mean, he was a bit older, had more experience in well, everything in live and you didn’t. Yeah you had an old soul and been through a whole lot of shit which made you mentally, a bit older and you’ve never really acted your age but still.

Pedro was shooting the last of us and stayed over at your place since it was closer to work and he didn’t have to stay in a hotel. You didn’t have to think twice when you offered up a room in your cozy, little home but you did not thought this through. You were seeing Pedro a lot, obviously but that didn’t help your case called: Being utterly in love with the daddy of the internet. For the love of god why did you think this was going to be a good idea?

Today was a tough day. Well make it a though 3 weeks at this point because what the fuck?! You had trouble with your teacher, exams, and a whole lot of last minute changes because your teachers couldn’t communicate and a whole lot more but you get the deal. You were stressed, frustrated and exhausted and to top it all off, today marked the 2 year anniversary of your godfathers dead. You never had a father but when he became your godfather, he tried to fix everything your father had ruined and broken. He was the closest thing you had to a father and now he was gone. He had spent 2 years being your godfather and you whished you had more time with him.

So you came home from your studies, Pedro in the kitchen getting dinner ready when you walked in. He looked at you and the moment he saw you, a big smile appeared on his face. “Hey sweetheart” Pedro greeted you with a lot of joy but could see that you were going through a rough day. He opened his arms up for you and pulled you in a hug, which you gladly accepted, wrapping your arms around his waist, holding his pink sweater tightly while your rested your head against his chest. Pedro placed his hand on your head for comfort and pulled you closer to his body as he placed a kiss on your head.

“Tough day huh?” he murmured in your hair, making you nod. “You’re here now sweetheart. This day is almost over and in two days, you have a break and we’ll only do fun things and rest. I promise you.” you felt comforted by Pedro’s words as usual. Pedro always was able to comfort you like no one else could. Like everything would be okay as long as he was around. Pedro let you hold him as long as you needed to. You could feel him move while you clanged to him. You heard some glasses clink together and you assumed he was opening up a wine bottle.

One arm was still around you, holding you against his body and the other was trying to pour the wine in the glasses. You chuckled a little at the struggle Pedro was having with the wine while he didn’t want to let go off you. You got out of the hug making Pedro frown a bit but smiled while he saw you chuckle.

He handed you the wine glass with a generous amount of wine in it. “I have to go to my family tonight.” You mentioned and Pedro leaned against the kitchen counter with a sad look in his eyes. “I’ll go with you, sweetheart.” You felt your heart fill up with love and comfort but shook your head. “You don’t have to do that P.” this time it was Pedro’s turn to shake his head. “No, I want to. I want to be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.” He told you and pushed his body off the counter and walked to you as he wrapped his arms around you again. “Thank you, P.” Pedro kissed your head in response.

~Time skip~

After dinner you quickly changed and went with Pedro to your family. You knew that it was going to be tough because your godmother had a very tough time and you promised your godfather that if the time would come that you would take care of them. You just didn’t know the time would come so soon but you kept your promise to him. So you straightened your back, took a deep breath, pushed your emotions aside for a moment and walked in. It wasn’t the first time that your godmother broke down in front of you and her daughter. It was tough because you felt torn apart by the pain but you promised to be strong for them. To be that shoulder and rock but it was tough. So today was no difference. Pedro watched you bubble up all the emotions while your godmother clang to you.

Pedro could feel the weight on your shoulders and the pain in your heart as it chocked him up. He could see the tears gathering in your eyes but being pushed away so you could be the strong one of the family.

Once you were in the car, it was silent. Pedro didn’t know what to say so he just held your hand while he drove off. You were always quite after something like this. IT just drained all your energy and you felt shitty as fuck to say the least. You couldn’t wait to get home, take a sleeping pill, relax and go to bed early so you wouldn’t have to deal with this day anymore.

You and Pedro walked through the front door and you made your way in the kitchen to make some tea and take your meds. Pedro followed behind you softly. “Thank you for coming with me P.” Pedro smiled softly but sadness lingered over his features. “Always sweetheart.” Pedro slowly walked up to you and pulled you in a hug. “Let me take care of you how you took care of them now. You did great but it’s okay now. You don’t have to be strong anymore princess.” You were too exhausted to even cry while the weight on your heart grew stronger. “it’s not healthy bubbling it up like this, mi amada”

“I know. I’m just exhausted right now.” You told him tiredly. Pedro cupped your cheeks lovingly and looked at you. Softness glazed over his eyes and features. “I can imagine sweetheart.” He told you before placing a long, lingering kiss on your forehead. You let out a sigh. “Can we watch a movie?” you asked Pedro who smiled lovingly at you. “We can do whatever you want to, mi corazon.”

Pedro made the tea while you took your meds. You quickly run upstairs to get in the most comfortable outfit ever. You had a very, like very big fluffy sweater type thing and it was great to hide in it, so it was perfect for now. You walked downstairs, seeing Pedro already on the couch. Pedro smiled as he saw you in the fluffy sweater. A look like his heart was going to burst from cuteness.

You plopped on the couch next to Pedro, who had his arm resting on the leaning of the couch so you leaned as close against Pedro’s side. He handed you the remote and you chose a movie. Pedro went with his fingertips over your sculp, comforting you. As time went by, you leaned more and more against Pedro before deciding to rest your head on his lap. Pedro’s attention went to you as you got away from his side. He looked at what you were planning to do and the moment he saw you laying down on his lap, his heart filled itself with so much love that he thought he was going to lose it. He grabbed a blanket that was behind him and placed it over your body. His hand resting on your arm and softly rubbed your arm while the other was still in your hair, massaging your scalp.

You didn’t remember when your eyes closed but you woke up by the slight shift from Pedro. You opened your eyes and saw that Pedro was looking at you. “I’m sorry I woke you up princess. I wasn’t sure if you were sleeping or not.” Pedro told you softly as he went over your hair. You let out a groan as you sat up, your neck and back hurting.

Pedro’s hand was on your back softly rubbing it. “It’s okay, I should go to bed anyways.” You told him with a tired smile. Pedro kissed the top of your head. “Goodnight sweetheart. And you know it! if there’s something, anything at all, you come to me and wake me up alright mama?” he told you a bit stern but still with love. You smiled at his caring side that you loved so much and not to forget about the nickname. “I promise. Goodnight P.” you told him as you stood up. “Goodnight princessa.”

You got upstairs and freshened up. You wore some shorts, a shirt from Pedro that you might’ve stolen or not and laid down in bed You scrolled a bit through your phone, watching some Youtube videos and just like before, you didn’t know when your eyes closed as you fell into a deep sleep.

Pedro tried to walk silently upstairs until he saw some light from underneath your door. He frowned a bit, worried that you couldn’t sleep or that you felt bad after today so he softly knocked on your door but didn’t hear a response from you. So he tried again “Sweetheart? You up?” he asked you but not too hard for if you were in fact asleep, that you wouldn’t wake up. Pedro carefully opened your door slightly and peeked inside, seeing you completely knocked out with your headphones in, Youtube still playing in the background and your lamp besides your bed table still on. He smiled lovingly and walked inside of your room, very carefully taking your headphones out of your ears and placed them on the bedtable. He took your phone and put it in the charger besides your earphones. He got the covers, pulling them up a bit and softly tucked you in. He kissed your head and put your light out and silently walked out of your room, closing the door carefully behind him.

~time skip~

You woke up, half in a panic as you looked around you confused. You had a terrible, really horrible nightmare. You didn’t remember putting your nightlight out or putting your phone away etc. It clicked in your head that it must’ve been Pedro, making you smile in yourself. You really wanted to go to him and let him hold you, protect you from anymore nightmares if they’d come back. You felt your heart thumping against your chest as you fell back down with a sigh as you rubbed your face. You stared at your ceiling until you had enough and got out of bed. Your muscles ached, probably from tensing them so much in your sleep.

You groaned, getting up. All of a sudden, fear and anxiety started engulfing you and before there could be a panic attack, you quickly exited your room. Your feet softly shuffling at your wooden floor as you got closer to Pedro’s door. You know what he said but still something inside of you, really did not want to wake him up but you knew that if you didn’t, you would have a full blown panic attack. Besides, Pedro would whoop your ass if he found out and that you didn’t wake him. You softly knocked on his door and unknowingly held your breath. You didn’t hear anything and you didn’t really know what to do so you carefully opened the door.

Pedro laid on his side with his back to the door. “P?” you whispered as not to startle him but loud enough to wake you. He stirred a bit in his sleep and turned on his other side, now facing you but didn’t fully wake up so you tried again. “P?” but still no reaction. You shifted on your feet, getting nervous and not knowing what to do next. You looked at the empty side of the bed. Fuck it, you cursed out in your head and softly walked to the empty side of the bed.

You held out the covers slightly and got in next to him. Pedro opened his eyes from the sudden movement on his bed. He saw that you were wearing his shirt and he got a grin on his face. “I was looking for that shirt.” Pedro said, his voice raspy from sleep. You quickly looked at Pedro. “I’m sorry.” You said sheepishly, seeing the smirk on Pedro’s face, made you feel flustered yet relieved that he found it amusing. You laid down on your side, facing Pedro. You both stared at each other for a moment.

“You okay?” he asked you in a whisper. The love that coated those two words and his big brown cow eyes made your heart skip a couple of beats. “Had a bad nightmare.” Pedro nodded and gave you a sad smile. “I’m glad you came to me.” you felt flustered and shy but proudness also washed over you while you couldn’t do anything to hide the shy smile that covered your face. “Come here sweetheart.” He told you and opened the covers more so you could move towards him, which you gladly did. Your body was tightly against his, your arm tucked underneath your chin, like those dinosaur hands while Pedro’s arms were tightly wrapped around you. Your head was tucked underneath his chin and for the first time, in like forever you felt genuinely safe and secure.

You held the shirt that he was wearing, tightly in your hands, making a fist. The way Pedro’s hands softly rubbed your back and held your head, made the butterflies multiple in your stomach. “Try to get some more sleep, mi corazol. I’ll be right here.” He whispered in your ear. You already had your eyes closed, completely relaxing underneath his touch. You moved a bit, trying to get even closer to Pedro. You listened to his heartbeat and heard it thumping violently against his chest. You slowly opened your eyes and looked up at Pedro, making him look at you as well.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he finally asked when he saw your awaiting look, making him confused. His eyebrows knitted a bit together, trying to read your mind. You shook your head softly and wanted to rest your head again but Pedro put his finger underneath your chin, making you look up at him. “You know you can tell me right?” he asked you softly again. You nodded and played with his shirt that he wore. “It’s just, your heart is beating very fast.” You tried to say as softly as you could, hoping that he didn’t hear you but he did.

Pedro chuckled nervously. “Eh yeah… You kind off have that effect on me…” this time his voice was in a whisper. You looked up real quick and you felt his heart absolutely going insane underneath your touch. You were so starstruck, your body moving on its own right now. You got his hand and placed it on your shirt, exactly where your heart was. It was beating just as fast as his, if not faster. His hand was flat on your chest with your hand above his and now you saw how big his hand was. “You kinda have that effect on me as well.” you whispered, scared that if you spoke too loud that you would break the intimate moment.

Pedro’s hand that rested on your chest slowly went up to your neck, towards your cheek, letting it rest there. His thumb softly rubbing on your soft skin. “Are you sure?” he asked you, not sure if you were on the same page. “Very much so.” Pedro softly nodded and lowered his head so he could rest his forehead against yours. Both of your breaths shaky right now from the close proximity. You placed your hand on his again and held it, bringing it to your lips, softly kissing his hand. Pedro was in a complete trance, completely focused on you and his hand.

You let go of his hand and went through his bed hair and let your hand rest on his cheek, your palm tickling from his stubbles. Pedro’s eyes big, intently looking at you before he rested his forehead against yours again. He carefully wrapped his hand around your wrist that still cupped his cheek. You heard Pedro let out a shaky breath “Fuck” he cursed out and placed his lips against yours. You knew it was going to happen sooner or later but it still took you by surprise. Your heart almost beating out of your chest when you felt his tongue against your lips.

Both of your breath still shaky as you let him take control. He rolled you on your back and carefully laid his weight down on you as he continued kissing you. Your hands went though his hair, tucking it a bit. Pedro rested his hand on your hip and the other on your cheek again. You took his shirt in your hand again and pulled him more down on you. The kiss started to slow down and Pedro pecked your lips before pulling back, his thumb softly rubbing on your cheek. “I really do like you, mi amor.” He told you as you looked into each other’s eyes. This time you wrapped your small hand around his wrist. You turned your head towards his hand and softly placed a kiss on his wrist. “I really, really like you too P. I’m… I’m actually in love with you.” you admitted, feeling completely flustered, shy and nervous.

Pedro got a wide smile. “Good, cause I am too.” He told you and kissed you again passionately. You felt Pedro sigh in the kiss and so did you. He broke away again before it could get too heated. Not that he didn’t want to, but everything on its own time and god did he wanted to take his time with you.

Pedro kissed your nose, cheek and forehead before he laid down on his back. You scooped closer to him when he held out his arm for you to lay in. Nothing else was said, it wasn’t necessary either as you just cuddled with each other. Pedro kept cuddling you until you finally fell into a peaceful sleep. He made sure that you fell asleep first before he would even think about closing his own. But he didn’t want to sleep, he just wanted to stay in this exact moment and watch over you but he was bound to lose that fight eventually and he fell asleep, just like you in a peaceful sleep.

There was only one reason why you finally fell asleep peacefully and that was because of Pedro. No one, ever had made you feel this safe and secure in your entire life. Not even your mom was able to do so but Pedro…? He just did it, he had that effect on you and that’s how you knew he was the one.

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x female original character #pedro pascal is daddy #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal oneshot #pedro pascal fic

1K notes · View notes

bottomlouisficfest · 2 months ago

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We hope you’ve enjoyed the first couple of weeks of fics from the Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2024! Every two weeks, we’re compiling all of the fics from that period into one roundup post so they’re easy to find for anyone looking to catch up on fics they missed. Enjoy these amazing fics and give them the love they deserve!

make sure you kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face

A fic by localopa on AO3 | @voulezloux on Tumblr

25k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

things could be worse. harry doesn’t know what could be worse than being forced to do a tell-all interview with his ex friends with benefits that he still harbors feelings for, the only person he could ever see a future with, the person who truly hates him so much, he can’t help but hate him right back. but surely, worse things have happened at sea, right?

More, More, More

A fic by thecheshirepussycat on AO3 | @the-cheshire-pussy-cat on Tumblr | @Bee_With_Mee on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

BLFF Prompt 216: 1980s AU. Harry is a singer and Louis is a groupie that Harry sleeps with. He becomes Harry’s inspiration for writing Rebel Yell by Billy Idol.

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- (I Love You)

A fic by emmli28 on AO3 | @emmli28 on Twitter

27k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis and Harry have been friends since they were children and Louis has had a crush on Harry for as long as he can remember. At a young age Louis learned how to say I love you in morse code and has used it to profess his love for Harry ever since. He has gifted him bracelets with the code, drawn it on his skin and tapped it into his body. Every time Harry has asked, Louis has just shrugged it off, unable to voice his true feelings. Louis and Harry are now moving to different cities for university and they won't be able to see each other every day, like they are used to. Will their friendship stand the test and will Louis ever be able to tell Harry how he feels?

Upon the Plot Where I Took My Eternal Residence

A fic by daydreamlwts on AO3 | @daydreamlwts on Twitter

6k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 39- Louis gets into a car accident in the middle of nowhere and Harry, who lives in the middle of nowhere, finds and helps him.

all you're dreaming of

A fic by orleelou on AO3 | @orleelou on Tumblr | @orleelou on Twitter

61k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

In hindsight Louis should know there would be only one bed in the older man's room. It was a small inn attached to a pub downstairs, he should know. And it wasn’t a king sized bed where both of them could stay in their respective place without touching each other until the sun rose. The double bed was staring at Louis, taunting him and judging him for spending a night with clearly someone’s father who probably had children around his age.

Fly Me To Places I've Never Been

A fic by BoosBabycakes on AO3 | @boosbabycakes28 on Tumblr | @BoosBabycakes28 on Twitter

47k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

The plane is finally stabilized in the air, unfortunately Louis’ stress isn’t, anxiety and panic bubbling inside of him. All he can think about is how he is going to survive the longest flight of his life. He puts his airpods in, starts whatever playlist he prepared for the flight on shuffle while he is still embarrassingly hyperventilating. He closes his eyes, clutching onto his hoodie like his life depends on it when he feels a finger gently poking at his shoulder. He opens his eyes, taking one of his airpods off to hear a deep whisper, “Are you- Are you alright?” The voice is laced with worry. “You’re kind of scaring me. Are you afraid of flights?” The stranger seems genuinely concerned and it makes Louis want to cry even more. He doesn’t reply, simply shakes his head and thinks for a moment. Nothing can really get any worse at the moment so he grabs his phone from his lap, opens his note app and types, ‘MY EX IS SITTING BEHIND US WITH HIS NEW GIRLFRIEND’ . or The one where Louis’ ex ends up sitting right behind him with his new girlfriend on his flight back to Los Angeles, and the beautiful stranger next to him has an unexpected idea to help him get through the next five hours.

a dream awaits in aisle number two

A fic by anditsonlyforthebrave on AO3 | @HARRYSC1NEMA on Twitter

6k | Not Rated | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Hello, Louis,” the taller guy says, “looking as heavenly as ever” he comments, and Louis smiles. Definitely drunk, he thinks. “Had a fun night?” he asks, and Harry shrugs, “Niall’s cousin is visiting us for the week, and he bought us a bit too much to drink. How are you, Louis?” “Very tired, I can’t wait to sit down.” The next sentence that leaves Harry’s mouth leaves Louis speechless for multiple reasons. Or... Louis works nights in the local grocery store and has a silly little crush. Harry is a bit awkward, but it's not a coincidence that he as a silly little crush as well also known as prompt 159.

Kiwi - It's your business!

A fic by Blue_Green28 on AO3 | @bluegreen28fics on Tumblr | @_blue_green28 on Twitter

23k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

When ex-boybander Louis Tomlinson asks newcomer Harry Styles to be his support act for the next leg of his tour, he has no idea that he will gain more than just a support act. or, the one with the banter on tour

Love is red and it looks so good on you

A fic by DaxitaIsDaydreaming on AO3 | @DaxitasDaydrmng on Twitter

12k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Mummy and Daddy love us, so they will love anything we do for them.” She turned to look at her twin and noticed that the doubt was still drawn in her gaze, so she proposed, “Look, you are closer to Daddy, you like Daddy's books and those things, so you will go to help Mum with his gift.” Dars nodded with a shy smile, so she continued, “Mummy loves me more and shares the things he likes with me, so I will go with Daddy.” “That’s not true, Mummy loves us equally,” she refuted with a slight pout. Mummy would be incapable of loving one more than the other. Right? “I don’t go around saying that Daddy loves me more than you.” “Because he doesn’t love you more than me,” she cut her off. Or the one where Louis and Harry's eighth anniversary is right around the corner and they don't have their gifts yet. But it's okay because their little alphas girls are ready to help them.

Blue Nights

A fic by SilverStuff50 on AO3 | @silverstuff50 on Tumblr | @SilverStuff50 on Twitter

56k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis does what he needs to do to make ends meet, and if that means showing his body to make money, so be it, he'll use the gifts he's been given to keep him and his dad safe. When a mysterious benefactor starts to make demands on him, Louis has to question whether its the money or the man he's most tempted by.

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snorlaxlovesme · 3 months ago

Text

if my heart was a compass, you'd be north

Asymmetry is Death the Kid’s main weakness, and Black Star knows it. When he sees Kid’s arm get blown off by Noah in Baba Yaga’s Castle, he knows that Kid won’t be able to fight back. Jumping between them is easier than breathing, and getting trapped in the Book of Eibon is something he believes he can endure. And maybe he can, so long as he believes rescue is coming. But what happens when no one at the DWMA seems to find Black Star’s rescue mission as important as Kid does? Pairings: Death the Kid / Black Star Warnings: violence, suicide ideation, panic attacks, depression Ao3 link: [x] Partners' artwork: @drowsystarlight Neeks [x] @vin420 Vin [x] Happy Chibiverb '24!! In the spirit of signing up for a cute and fun mini-bang in the fandom, my dumb ass wrote 23k words 💀But that's because I had such wonderful partners, with fantastic ideas and even more fantastic art! Make sure to like and reblog their work as well! If for some reason you want to read the whole thing in one insanely long tumblr post, here it is! If not, please use the the ao3 link above

prologue

Inanely, the first thing Black Star thinks as he watches Mifune fall to the ground is this should feel better.

He doesn’t even fully know what he means by that. But when he looks at his adversary, his rival, dead on the ground before him, he expects a sense of completion to wash over him that never comes. Will it ever come?

Tsubaki transforms, holding Black Star by the shoulders as she gently lowers him to the ground. His wounds must look worse than they are, because concern paints her features as she looks him over, like she can’t quite decide which injury to treat first. Luckily, Sid is close by. The bastard was probably watching the whole fight and doing dumb commentary like he did when Black Star fought Kid last. He doesn’t say anything, no congratulations or kind words, just gives him a once over with his dead zombie eyes before holding out his knife and letting Nygus transform. She gets to work bandaging him immediately.

“You okay?” she asks kindly. She’s probably worried about how he would feel after taking out Mifune. And sure, that’s part of it, but not all of it.

Black Star can’t help instinctually posturing. “Of course, I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” he asks. He can’t see Nygus’s full face beneath the mask of bandages she wears, but he sees her expression shift when she sees his petulant frown. She has the decency not to comment on it, at least.

Sure, it’s a very loose definition of “okay.” The slice on his foot hurts like a motherfucker, and his eye and cheek are starting to swell up from Mifune’s onslaught of attacks. The wounds on his arms are mostly superficial, but Nygus finishes wrapping them with care before reaching into her medipack for a cold compress for his head. He’s probably not concussed, but whatever.

Tsubaki crouches down and gives Black Star that good natured-smile she always does when she can tell he’s lying to himself. “Of course you are,” she says. Then her tone shifts ever so slightly. A little bit more serious. This question isn’t one she wants answered with a lie. “But are you satisfied?”

That is a better question. And the answer is simple: no.

Will he ever be?

“Tsubaki,” Black Star says quietly, turning to look at where Mifune lays. “Do you think I’m closer to beating God, now?”

She lays a hand on his shoulder, right next to the slash mark through his tattoo.

“You’ve never been closer,” she says matter-of-factly.

That may be so.

But that’s not good enough.

He can still remember the crater in the ground, the rubber heel of a leather shoe crushing him into the concrete.

He looks at Tsubaki, his good eye blazing with determination.

There’s one more person Black Star still has to face.

---

“Where do you think he’d be?” Black Star asks as he races through Baba Yaga’s Castle.

It was easier than he thought to slip away from Sid and Nygus. For all their care, they were never the most observant guardians, and with the battle raging on around them it was easy to wait for them to focus on their comms so Tsubaki and Black Star could slip away.

“I don’t know,” Tsubaki says from her ninja sword form. Her wavelength is equal parts supportive and worried. She knows that Black Star needs this closure, but she’s still concerned about his injuries. Before she transformed, she offered to carry Black Star at least until they got inside the castle, but he laughed right in her face. Injury or not, the great Black Star doesn’t need to be carried.

He still has adrenaline pumping through him from his fight with Mifune. He might be limping a bit from the wound on his foot, but he’s still capable of moving on his own, and most of the grunts in Baba Yaga’s Castle look like they’ve been taken care of already. He sees dark clothed mounds lying on the ground in every corridor he takes, so at least he knows the rest of the teams were doing something while he crushed every other fighter outside.

“Sid mentioned that they still needed to destroy the moral manipulation machine,” Tsubaki says from her weapon form. “If I had to guess, that’s probably where Kid is heading.”

Black Star has no idea where that might be. He never bothered to look at those maps and blueprints that Sid and Nygus had scattered between them. Black Star was a big man, he didn’t need some stupid map.

Soul Perception would be nice in this moment, but that was like the one meister ability that Black Star didn’t have. Not that he needed it. He had his ninja intuition, which some might say was better than Soul Perception anyway.

“Kid’s a god, right? And gods don’t mess around with mini bosses. There’s no way he’s dicking around in one of these spindly spider legs. If he’s anywhere, he’s going to the heart.”

My heart is different than a human heart, Black Star. Maybe shinigamis just feel differently than humans do.

“Black Star?”

Black Star blinks. Without even realizing, he had skidded to a halt.

“Sorry,” he says, breaking into a run again. “Like I said, he’s probably in the heart of the castle.”

Whatever, Black Star thinks, shaking the memory from mind like it was one of the cobwebs that covered every corner of this castle. That stuff was in the past, and this was the present. He’d prove to Kid now just how big of a man he’d become, even with his stupid human heart.

He gets to the heart faster than he would have thought. The corridor he’s been running through opens up into a large room, and at the center sits a complicated looking machine.

“You think that’s it?” Black Star asks Tsubaki.

She doesn’t get the chance to answer, because at that second Black Star hears Kid’s voice, coming from one of the other hallways leading to this giant room.

“Who are you?” Kid asks, and he sounds…scared? That can’t be right. But he sounds rattled, and that is enough to put Black Star back on high alert. He’s been in battle with Kid enough times to know that he’s an extremely even-tempered fighter.

Black Star almost charges ahead, but a sharp feeling from Tsubaki slows him down. He can feel through her wavelength that she’s still nervous about his injuries. And if this person is strong enough to make Kid sound like that, Black Star needs to tread lightly.

It’s not Black Star’s style, and he wants to object, but he’s leaving bloody footprints behind from where the bandage on his foot has already been soaked through. His right eye is almost entirely swollen shut now.

He reluctantly blends in with the shadows, erasing his breath.

“My name isn’t important,” comes a deep voice. “But I know yours, Death the Kid.”

From Black Star’s vantage point, he can see Kid’s expression tense. It’s not unrealistic that someone would know of Kid, he’s the son of Lord Death, but something about this man’s tone doesn’t sound like he knows Kid superficially.

A hand reaches out, and that’s about all Black Star sees before one of Kid’s arms is blown clean off.

Black Star freezes.

In all their training together, Black Star has barely been able to lay a hand on Kid. This man ripped his arm off like he was flicking lint off Kid’s suit.

“Death the Kid,” the man says as Kid falls to the ground, gasping. Black Star can hear the tinny echoes of Liz and Patti calling out for him in their weapon forms. Kid doesn’t move from where he lays.

His adversary finally comes into view. A tall, dark-skinned man with a knowing smile on his face steps from the shadows and looks down his nose at Kid.

“I know all about you, little fragment,” he says smugly. He kicks Kid roughly, flipping him onto his back with his boot. Kid is still immobile, eyes glued to where his arm used to be, hardly breathing. “I know that you value order more than anything. And that all it takes is someone ruining your symmetry to render you incapacitated.”

Liz and Patti’s cries get louder.

“Tsubaki,” Black Star hisses through gritted teeth.

“He could kill you,” Tsubaki whispers back. She sounds terrified. “You have to call for back-up.”

But she knows Black Star would never do that. And even if he did, there’d be no time. This guy could kill Kid. And he might do it now.

“Shuriken mode,” he hisses again, barely able to stop a yell from ripping out of him.

“Black Star, no.”

There’s the shuffling sound of movement and voices coming from the corridor Black Star took to get here. It’s faint, but it could be allies approaching.

But Kid still isn’t moving. His breathing is getting loud and reedy, and his eyes are wide with panic. It’s written all over his face. His symmetry. His symmetry. His symmetry. He’s not going to fight back, and right now there’s no one else around to fight for him.

The mage holds up his hand again, and when Black Star sees a glint of metal, he knows he doesn’t have time to wait.

“Black Star don’t do this—” comes from behind him, because Black Star has dropped Tsubaki to the ground.

It almost feels like he’s seeing himself from outside his body. Black Star leaps from the shadows, red-soaked bandages trailing behind him as he skids between Kid and the enemy. His arm is already cocked back, prepared to punch this asshole in the face—

But something happens. The man seems to register the situation at hand in record time. His eyes flick to the far corridor, then Black Star, then Kid, and within the span of an instant makes a choice. Lightning fast, his grip locks around Black Star’s wrist, catching his punch before he’s even finished his wind-up. Black Star hears Tsubaki scream and flinches, waiting for the pain of his own arm being blown away, but instead a shackle locks onto him.

“What the—”

The other wrist. The metal clamps down and within seconds of Black Star’s approach he’s been neatly detained. He doesn’t even have a moment to process the situation before the man holds up a piece of paper.

A symbol in the center of it glows brightly.

That’s the last thing Black Star sees before he disappears.

2. death the kid

The time that passes by feels like an eternity.

DWMA medics approach, immediately working on wrapping up Kid and preparing to ship him back the academy for surgery.

Eternity.

Kid opening his eyes post-operation, seeing Liz and Patti sitting beside him.

Eternity.

Black Star officially being declared missing in action.

Eternity.

If Kid had to describe the mood of the scene before him, he’d describe it, bafflingly, as cheerful.

DWMA students whoop and holler in the gym as the impromptu sparring tournament wages on, the losers propped up against the wall with bloody noses and cold compresses pressed to their faces while the remaining contestants re-wrap their fingers.

In one swift kick, Patti drops another adversary, Kim falling flat on her back. Patti presses a knee into her chest and grins down at her like the devil.

“Okay, okay!” Kim wheezes, still struggling to take in a full breath. “I give, God! Get off me!”

Kid can tell from her expression that Patti hoped Kim would last longer. For making it this many rounds she seemed to give up remarkably easy.

“Who’s next?!” she shouts triumphantly, which only makes the crowd gathered around the ring roar louder.

Kid slinks farther back into the crowd, lest someone ask him to participate.

He hasn’t sparred with anyone one-on-one since his last fight with Black Star. Somehow it doesn’t feel right to participate in this kind of playful tomfoolery when he thinks about the condition Black Star could be in right now.

It’s been two weeks since the attack on Baba Yaga’s Castle. Kid only got to see Black Star for but a moment, his shadow casting down on Kid as he leapt in between Kid and the mage who had blown off his arm. Kid saw the determined arch of his back, the fist he had been prepared to throw, the bloodied bandages trailing behind him like scarves, and then in the space between breaths—

He was gone.

Kid picks up the pace, leaving the gym and heading straight for the Death Room.

Lord Death has been cagey about the investigation at best. Not like Kid expected anything different from him, but for this particular case it feels especially egregious. Black Star was already so injured from his fight with Mifune. When he disappeared all he left behind was bloodied footprints in the corridors and Tsubaki’s anguished cries.

He could be anywhere right now, and everyone else is having fun?

The sound of Tsubaki’s voice causes Kid to jump a little, so caught in his own reverie he hadn’t noticed he was passing by the DWMA infirmary.

“Come on, Angela. You have to eat your food, not just play with it,” she says softly.

The adolescent witch Mifune had been guarding is now being protected by the DWMA. Every day it feels like the world is tipping a little further on its axis. Kid used to be able to keep up with these kind of changes, but now it feels like the world continues to spin while Kid is stuck in place.

“I’m saving some for Mifune!” he hears Angela call from her bed. “Will he be here soon?”

Tsubaki doesn’t miss a beat. “He won’t be coming ‘til later, so you have to eat your food by yourself, okay?”

The academy decided it was best to forego telling Angela about Mifune’s fate. With her being so young, the pull of madness caused by her magic was still a very real possibility, and telling her traumatic news like that without a safeguard prepared was too dangerous, especially considering all the other issues the DWMA was dealing with for the moment.

Angela, in all her innocence, doesn’t miss a beat.

“Should we save some for Black Star?”

Ice flows through Kid’s veins.

It takes a lot longer for Tsubaki’s response this time. Quiet and choked, she murmurs. “Your food will get cold if you wait for him. Eat what you can, okay?”

Tsubaki politely excuses herself for a moment, and Kid doesn’t have time to pull himself together before Tsubaki is hurrying out of the Infirmary and almost crashing into him.

She stops short, stumbling backwards.

Kid looks at her.

Tsubaki looks at him.

For a few moments, neither of them seem to be able to speak. Kid feels his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, struggling to put together words that he’s had two weeks to tell her and still hasn’t had the guts to. Tsubaki’s blank stare is carefully constructed, not a single bit of emotion finding its way through.

Tsubaki quietly passes him, leaving just as quickly as she came.

Shame burns through Kid. He continues walking.

He gets to the Death Room just as his father appears to be finishing up a briefing. Professor Stein and Miss Marie have returned from wherever the hell they’ve been, and in true Lord Death fashion, it seems like he’s forgiven their transgressions instantly.

Kid silently slinks into the room, taking his spot on the throne-like chair Lord Death had constructed for him for a birthday not long ago. Kid felt he needed something regal to suit his position as a shinigami. He cringes now as he sits down upon it.

They finish their briefing, believing that Justin Law is the culprit who killed Joe Butataki, a meister who had a unique Soul Perception ability that made him a human lie detector.

“We believe Justin killed BJ to prevent the DWMA from being able to interrogate captured enemies,” Stein says clinically as he lights up a cigarette. “We also believe that other meisters with similar Soul Perception abilities will become targets for Justin and the Clowns moving forward.”

“Like who?” Lord Death says, cocking his head to the side playfully.

“Me, probably,” Stein says, though he hardly looks concerned. “Maka Albarn.” Death Scythe leaps from his seat at that. “And Kid too, no doubt.”

The hollow eyes of Lord Death’s mask do not betray his emotions, if he feels anything at all.

“Well,” he says seriously, taking a breath. Kid thinks for a moment that he might actually be showing some sort of concern or serious decorum, but within an instant his voice has switched back to bright and zany. “I guess we’ll just have to be on high alert!”

Kid scoffs.

“Stein, you and Marie will remain on the case to continue looking for Justin and find out what he’s up to. Spirit, let me know if you find anymore information about Medusa’s research or the whereabouts of the Demon Sword. That will be all! Dismissed!”

They all nod and file out solemnly, leaving Kid alone with his father, who has pointedly ignored his flabbergasted expression.

“That’s it?” Kid asks, heated.

Lord Death turns to face him. “Kid! You’re so quiet I hardly noticed you come in! What is it?”

“What do you mean ‘what is it’? Are you not even looking for that mage?”

Lord Death nods solemnly like he understands where Kid is coming from. “I’m no less upset than you are about the man who hurt you, Kid, but there will be a time and a place for you take out your frustrations.”

“I don’t care about me!” Kid shouts. He waves his arms in the air to prove it. The reattachment of his arm was a success, and being a shinigami means that it was completely healed within a few days. “That man took Black Star with him! Are you even looking for him?”

Lord Death fixes him with that blank stare again. Kid expects another stupid mood shift, but for once his voice remains even.

“Like I said, Kid. There will be a time and place.”

Time and place, his ass.

It’s been a month and a half, and progress on Black Star’s case is as slow as it’s ever been.

Be reasonable, a part of Kid thinks. The DWMA has about fifty different cases open right now. The Kishin is out there somewhere, amplifying the madness of the world just with his presence alone. Medusa has escaped DWMA custody once more after taking over Arachne’s corpse. Crona is still missing. Justin Law is still at large after killing BJ. Black Star’s case is just one of many, and there’s only so many directions the academy can focus its attention without spreading its forces too thin.

But the larger part of Kid thinks FUCK reasonable.

He tears through the academy library like the perpetrator lies within the pages of the dusty books lining the shelves. Black Star’s condition is still unknown. He could be anywhere. They could be doing anything to him. That’s if he’s even alive. He rips more books from the shelves of the restricted sections and throws them on the oak desk he’s been occupying for the past several weeks.

He hates this. He could be out there searching for Black Star, doing something to help him since no one else seems to give a damn. But he doesn’t know where to look. The mage that captured him is unknown to the academy, so now here Kid is, another night at the library attacking precarious stacks of books before him like he has an agenda against them specifically.

If he could just find some iota of helpful information, he could jumpstart the investigation. But most of the witches within these texts are long dead, and any material on Medusa or Arachne is surely being safeguarded by Sid right now, as he spearheads every other mission possible besides the one to save his foster son. Kid clenches his fists, struggling against the urge to sweep all the books off the desk and scream.

He hisses through his teeth and lets his fingers creep in front of him until they collide with a disposable paper coffee cup. He takes a long drink of the tepid contents inside. It was an offering from Liz and Patti, who are allergic to quiet, stuffy libraries but wanted to show their support in his efforts. The seat across from him was occupied by Maka a few hours ago, but she had to leave to go train with Soul, probably practicing their new Death Scythe techniques.

If this was a normal day, it would be Black Star would be sitting across from him. He was always somehow finding Kid when he was in the middle of studying and doing everything humanly possible to get him to stop. He’d crunch loudly on a snack not suited for library consumption and swipe sips of Kid’s coffee when he thought he wasn’t looking. Pencil tapping, idle humming, leg jittering, he’d last maybe ten minutes before loudly complaining that whatever Kid was learning in his textbook Black Star could teach him with his fists twice as fast.

“Soul Theory: A Study of Resonance Through the Ages?” Kid asked, one of the last time Black Star found him at this very desk. “You can teach me that with fighting?”

“Pff, sure I can,” Black Star said dismissively. He’d probably never opened that textbook in his life. “All that soul theory is junk anyway. Resonance is all about trusting your partner. You don’t need to read a book to know that, right?”

And, somehow, that worked. Kid found himself being dragged from the library by the wrist, Black Star cackling like a maniac for winning the war on Kid’s studies yet again (he was currently undefeated). They ended up in the weight room wailing on one of the more heavy-duty punching bags, then switching to bare-handed combination work when Nygus yelled at them to stop damaging the equipment.

Kid threw a punch at Black Star, hard enough to slice the air. It probably would have killed a normal human, but Black Star braced himself and caught Kid’s fist, holding tightly and absorbing the impact.

“Jeez, Kid, I had no idea you were that strong!” Kilik called from the corner of the gym.

Kid ducked under one of Black Star’s swings and glanced in Kilik’s direction, where he was examining the bag that would have to be re-stuffed sometime later.

Black Star dropped his hands, turning an ugly face to Kilik. “Um, hello? Your god is right here. Where’s Black Star’s praise?”

Kilik waved him off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, we know you’re strong. But I didn’t know Kid was so good at hand-to-hand! Why don’t you do more close combat fighting, Kid? I know the Thompsons are guns, but if you wanted, you could practice with Fire and Thunder for a bit, just to see how it feels.”

Kid didn’t know what to say. He’d never trade in his partners for someone else’s, but he appreciated Kilik’s compliment and his offer. He was about to tell him so when Black Star butted in.

“You wanna know why Kid doesn’t do close combat? I’ll show ya.”

In a blink he was at Kid’s side. Kid put up his fists to block, so focused on an oncoming attack he wasn’t mentally prepared for Black Star pinching the sleeve of his shirt at the elbow and neatly ripping it off in one swift motion.

Kid fell to the floor instantly, eyes full of tears.

Black Star cackled.

“See? When Kid gets in close with an enemy, he runs the risk of getting his symmetry all screwed up.”

“Ohhh, so that’s why he fights with Liz and Patti.”

“That’s why he has me,” Black Star said confidently. “I do all the dirty work so Kid can focus on the battle. It’s simple stuff, really.” Black Star rubbed his nose smugly.

Kilik nodded. “I guess when you put it like that, you guys make a pretty good Resonance Team.”

Black Star snorted. “’Course we do. Any team with me on it is the best, after all.” He turned to Kid, who hadn’t stopped weeping in the fetal position during the entire exchange. “You wanna go get lunch? I’m starved.”

Kid’s crying continued.

Black Star rolled his eyes. He bent down and grabbed the other sleeve, ripping it more carefully to ensure it matched the first.

Kid’s crying stopped.

“Lunch?” Black Star asked again, standing up to his full height and reaching a grabby hand towards Kid.

Kid can still remember the warmth of that hand, and the warmth of that statement.

It’s simple stuff, really.

But it wasn’t. Kid was the most powerful meister at the DWMA. He didn’t advertise that he had such a glaringly obvious weakness. In fact, he’d gone so far as to never articulate it, which made it all the more meaningful that Black Star had so easily clocked it and always covered Kid without a second thought. Even during their battle for Brew, when Mosquito came barreling towards Kid, Black Star was there in an instant, taking the brunt of the damage. He’d pushed himself to the limit with the Uncanny Sword, all to keep Mosquito’s eyes on him. When Kid launched that final attack, it felt like a victory for both of them, with Kid emerging unscathed while Black Star could hardly stand.

But in turn, that memory always bumped into an uglier one. Not a sleeve, but an arm ripped from its socket, laying limp on the cobbled castle floor before him. It must have hurt, but Kid couldn’t even recall the pain. It was the asymmetry. The imbalance had him spiraling. It wasn’t a sleeve that time. He couldn’t be re-balanced in that moment, and he was going to be killed. Kid had been so certain of it, lying there on the ground, watching that menacing hand reach for him.

See? When Kid gets in close with an enemy, he runs the risk of getting his symmetry all screwed up.

It was going to be the end of him, and that’s all there was to it. It’s simple stuff, really. The trait that made him Death the Kid going to be his downfall, and in a way that seemed fitting.

In his shock, he barely saw Black Star leap between him and the mage. Kid only saw Black Star’s battered silhouette for one heart-stopping moment before he was gone.

And now Kid sits here, in the quiet library, waiting for someone to disturb his peace like always. But Black Star isn’t here.

Kid hangs his head low, the text on the dusty book before him beginning to blur. He rubs his eyes and slams the book shut.

This one-man search is running Kid ragged. He’s been at it for days—weeks, even—and his search is yielding no results.

If Kid thought sleep would help, it doesn’t. Probably because sleep hardly comes. He lays in his bed at the Gallows Mansion and stares at the ceiling bitterly, waiting for rest to wash over him, but his eyes stay stubbornly open.

It’s not like it would do him much good anyway. His dreams are often occupied by Black Star. Finding him too late, dead. Finding him on time, but he’s angry at Kid. Seeing the curl of his lip as he looks at Kid, just like the last time he saw him, the last proper time, when Black Star had come up to him and picked a fight with him in the DWMA courtyard after defiling the academy’s symmetry once again. There was a darkness growing within Black Star that Kid had been pointedly ignoring for some time, and when it all came to a hilt Kid pounded him into the ground, which only seemed to make matters worse.

Kid dreams of that too.

It seems unfair that, as a shinigami, he isn’t able to use his godly powers to control the narrative of his dreams. What’s the point of having all this power if he can’t even will his unconscious mind to draw up Black Star’s smile?

He gives up. There’s no point in lying here if nothing is going to happen. He leaps off his bed, stalking to the corner of the room and flicking the light switch, letting the ornate chandelier in the center of the room illuminate the endless night. Liz and Patti are in their rooms down the hall, so he doesn’t bother waking them. Someone around here should get some rest, even if it can’t be him.

His father won’t be home, but he doesn’t expect him to be. It’s a rare occasion to see Lord Death hover down the halls of the Gallows Mansion, and frankly it’s kind of creepy when he does. Kid can’t remember the last time he’s seen his father sleep. Has he ever slept? Would Kid know if he had?

It doesn’t matter.

He goes to his backpack and pulls out one of the offending books from the library. He has a clearer head now, exhausted as he feels. He was just reading up on Eibon, the magic user Kid and his friends saw during the Battle for Brew. He’s one of the few recorded mages in history powerful enough capture an Ancient One, someone like Lord Death, and imprison them in a place where they would be undetected. Lord Death claims Eibon has been dead for hundreds of years, but maybe someone is using one of his techniques to remain hidden from the DWMA?

Kid rubs his eyes, and jots down frantic notes about Eibon to ask his father the next time he sees him. He looks at the clock. Three a.m. He wonders what horrible dream will await him when he finally falls asleep. A good memory, he pleads with his brain as he feels his eyelids begin to droop. He folds his arms on his desk for a moment and rests his head on them. He turns his face and looks at his bed, blinking slowly. He knows he should get up, walk the couple feet to his mattress and fall into the nothingness, but his eyes linger on the edge of his bedframe.

It was the last place he saw Black Star smile, before everything turned to shit…

“Me and Tsubaki were thinking about leaving for a bit,” Black Star said seriously. Kid stopped his meticulous work and snapped his head to attention. “Taking a trip to Japan, maybe.”

It was a typical night for the two of them. Tsubaki and the Thompsons were having a Girls Night back at Black Star’s apartment, leaving the boys to themselves at the Gallows Mansion. Boys Night was supposed to be serious. Kid and Black Star had an upcoming Meister Exam they should’ve been studying for, and Kid had gravely promised to tutor Black Star. They’d donned their pajamas, Black Star in a muscle tank and shorts, and Kid in a silk black matched button-down set, and cracked open their books for all of 15 seconds before Kid saw Black Star’s dog-eared and crumpled book and promptly had a meltdown about it.

So there they were, Black Star was doing 800 elevated one-armed push-ups, while Kid had pulled the binding from Black Star’s textbook and was now painstakingly ironing each of the pages with a steamer. He placed each leaf of paper under a towel on the ironing board before him and pressed the iron down on them, then delicately stacked them beside him.

Kid looked at Black Star, where he hadn’t stopped working out, lowering his body to the floor in even, measured reps.

“You’re leaving?” Kid asked, doing his best to sound curious instead of concerned. “What, like on a sabbatical?”

“What? No. Just like, a vacation. Kind of. So we can learn more about her weapon form.”

Kid rolled his eyes. “Black Star, you just described a sabbatical.”

“Whatever, man.”

Kid nodded. He felt a little better, knowing there was a reason behind Black Star’s sudden decision to leave. He’d felt…off lately. The past couple battles they’d been in had resulted in losses. Kid had read Black Star’s file before, he knew that he and Tsubaki only had a handful of souls to their names, but for some reason those recent losses seemed to have been weighing on Black Star more heavily than others.

Kid picked up another page of Black Star’s textbook and placed it under the towel. “Are you going to Japan to meet Tsubaki’s family?” He clicked the steam button several times.

Black Star slowed down his reps slightly. “Yeah. Figured they might be able to help. She says they’re good people. They might know something about the Uncanny Sword that we don’t. Maybe it’ll help me conquer it.”

“Seems like a good idea to me,” Kid said, lifting a corner of the towel to peek at the page. Still a tad wrinkled. He also took a peek at Black Star, whose expression was similarly crumpled. “So why do you seem nervous?”

“Who says I’m nervous?” Black Star snapped defensively, lip curled.

Kid’s eyebrows shot up.

When Black Star saw his expression, he looked apologetic. He pulled his feet from the edge of the mattress and sat on the floor against the bedframe. “Fine. Maybe I’m feeling off.” He scratched the back of his head and looked at the floor. “The last time Tsubaki and I went to Japan didn’t go well. The Star Clan wreaked a lot of havoc there. They’re not exactly my biggest fans.”

The fingers of his left hand crawled up his right arm, unconsciously covering his tattoo.

“It feels like everything I do is attached to him, somehow. Like even when I do good things, it doesn’t make up for what he did.”

Kid would never say it aloud, but he liked this side of Black Star. It didn’t come out often, and normally when it did, he was in a bad mood, but there was something intriguing about quiet, pensive Black Star. Kid had never needed to ask Black Star his feelings before. Any other day he’d already be scaling a building to shout them to the entire world. But the dip in his eyebrows were a foreign language that Kid longed to be fluent in. At that moment, he could only guess what thoughts were swirling through Black Star’s head.

“You want your good deeds to balance out his bad ones? That sounds—”

Black Star groaned. “Don’t say ‘like symmetry—’”

Kid met his eyes. “I was going to say ‘unfair.’”

That stopped Black Star short.

Kid put down his iron and sat on the floor by Black Star. The pages could wait.

“You aren’t your father, Black Star. You shouldn’t compare yourself to him.”

Black Star scoffed. “Like you don’t?”

Kid opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. It doesn’t matter if your parents are gods or murderers. People look at you and can’t help but think of them. Of what you should be.”

Kid understood. He’d spent his whole life being “Lord Death’s son.” Human adults looked at him reverently, knowing the power he held despite his youthful appearance. The students at the DWMA looked at him with envy, seeing how accomplished he was as a meister while hardly trying. Even when Black Star first met him, his first thought was to attack him and test his strength.

“It’s different for me, though,” Kid said. “No one wants you to be like your father. For me, people don’t just want me to be like mine, it’s expected.” This wasn’t where he anticipated this conversation to go, but once it came out, he surprised himself with the emotion packed in the statement. “I will be Lord Death one day. And everyone assumes I’ll be just like him. But I’m not.”

He spun a skull shaped ring on his right index finger. Then the one on his left.

“No one understands my need for balance. They think I’ll grow out of it one day, and maybe I will. But I don’t want to. It feels like what I was made for, somehow.”

He clasped his hands together tightly.

“But no one understands it.”

“Well, can’t you just be a shinigami that focuses on balance? That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Kid stopped the tremor that threatened to run through him at how much he wanted it. How much he craved to be allowed to act the way he desired without being shamed for it. It was a thought no one ever allowed him to entertain. It was always stop being so neurotic, Kid. Pull yourself together, Kid. You’ll never be anything if you keep acting this way, Kid. Black Star might have been one of the few people that didn’t talk to him that way, in fact.

But it didn’t change who he was.

Kid slumped heavily against the bedframe beside Black Star. “I can long for order all I want. But when it comes down to it, my name is Death too.”

Black Star matched his pose, staring forlornly at the ceiling. “Guess we’re both fucked, then.”

Kid closed his eyes and let a breath out of his nose, close to a laugh.

There was something comforting about Black Star relating to his shinigami problems. Or, perhaps more specifically, being related to at all. Kid thought he’d gotten so used to being separate from humanity. For the majority of his life, he’d been told that he wasn’t like the people he would be serving one day. Being able to relate to Black Star proved that Kid might not be as “other” as he had been led to believe.

Kid thought about how otherworldly Lord Death—his own father— felt, even to him, and cringed at the thought that this moment might one day feel like a distant memory. Being shoulder to shoulder with Black Star in their pajamas, commiserating about their parents like two teenage boys afraid of growing up. What would it feel like, when he’s Lord Death one day? Would Black Star feel further away? Would it feel like that moment minutes ago, when Black Star said he’d be leaving? His stomach swooped again at the thought of it.

He wanted to revel in it. This closeness. He leaned heavily to his left, knocking shoulders with Black Star. The warmth of his skin against Kid’s was comforting. The contact was familiar.

“I’m sure the others feel like that too. Maka feels pressure because of her parents, surely.”

Black Star bore the weight of Kid easily, not bothering to push him away.

“Yeah, but the difference is Maka loves her parents, despite how she acts.” Black Star said matter-of-factly. Kid felt inclined to agree.

How Black Star felt about his father went without saying. He turned a little to face Kid. “Do you love your old man?”

It stopped Kid short. Kid chewed on the question for a while. He wasn’t sure.

They weren’t particularly affectionate with one another. He’d hardly even felt the desire to spend time with his father as of late. Maybe it was just because he finally had other friends. He had Liz and Patti, partners who loved him and complemented him better than anyone else in the world. He had Soul and Maka, who always treated him so warmly, inviting him to their apartment for tea and gossip like any other student. He had Stein and Miss Marie and Sid, authority figures that treated him like a child instead of a prince. And he had…

He looked at Black Star quickly, then looked away.

“I don’t know,” he said, answering Black Star’s question. “Maybe shinigamis love differently than humans do. He always feels so far away. I can never guess what he’s feeling.”

“Well,” Black Star said softly, shifting a little. His fingers twitched, brushing against Kid’s. “That sounds pretty human to me.”

Maybe that’s what this feeling was. Humanity. Kid didn’t want to let go of it. The comfort of being surrounded by humans, of being treated as fallible. Of being protected. Of being loved. As a shinigami, he was taught not to expect any of these things, and Kid was afraid of going back to that kind of coldness.

His fingers gripped Black Star’s, a hand almost as familiar to Kid as his own partners’.

This is what I want to hold on to, he thought. This is the sort of feeling that doesn’t require balance.

When he turned and leaned in to Black Star, he expected to see surprise on his face, but it wasn’t there. The look in his eyes was inviting and calm, that quiet part of Black Star that so few got to see. His soul was spiking nervously, but Kid imagined that in this moment his probably looked the same. It didn’t stop him from leaning in. Kid tilted his face to the side, nose brushing up against Black Star’s, feeling his breath on his cheek and marveling at how good it felt. He didn’t want to rush it, but he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather do. Their lips just barely grazed each other when—

Black Star jerked away like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on him.

Kid leaned back, panting.

The moment felt peaceful just a second ago, but now Black Star was skittering away on the floor before leaping to his feet and pacing across the room.

“Is something wrong?” Kid asked, stupidly. Clearly something was wrong, but he didn’t know what.

“No,” Black Star said, clearly lying. “I mean. It’s just—I can’t—” He folded his arms behind his head and turned away. Kid couldn’t see his face, but at that moment, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

Black Star took a shaky breath. “It’s just too much, you know?”

Rejection washed through Kid, cold and sharp. It was not usual for him to feel like he was too much. Plenty of people couldn’t handle Kid; they’d even told him to his face. He just never expected one of those people to be Black Star.

His fingers felt numb as he twisted the ring on his right index finger, then the one on the left.

“Right,” he agreed quietly. “As I said, my heart is different. Maybe shinigamis just feel differently than humans do.”

Kid wakes with a sudden start.

Of course, his mind would conjure up the worst sort of dream. He hadn’t thought about that for months. It was too painful to think about the sweetness of that moment, the bright hopefulness Kid felt as he’d leaned in toward Black Star, right before he pulled away. Black Star had left not long after that, and something about Kid’s room has felt haunted with the memory ever since.

Kid gets up, dresses in his suit, and leaves the Gallows Mansion. He can’t stay here, not with that memory lingering in his mind, not with the hollow silence of the mansion pressing down on him. Death City is most alive at nighttime, so Kid walks toward the city, hoping the bustling sound of night life will help clear his head.

Clubs boom with bass-heavy music, and Kid side-steps around tipsy humans stumbling down the street. It’s the sort of fun he’s never been familiar with, but the people look happy all the same. Humans put their bodies through so much just for a few hours of forgetfulness, and in this moment, Kid can’t blame them.

Unconsciously, his body marches him right toward Death Weapon Meister Academy. Even when he’s trying to avoid harsh memories, he seems to lead himself right to them.

Kid sighs and begins to climb the staircase.

The academy has always been like a second home to him. Being Lord Death’s son means the DWMA was always his playground. He’s roamed this campus more than all the students and teachers combined. It wasn’t until a few years ago, when his father told him of his duty to one day take over as the world’s Lord Death, that Kid had stopped stalking the halls of the academy and confined himself to the Death Room with his father. He’d had that silly throne built, convinced that he needed a proper place to perch for when he eventually ruled over death. He’d sat and observed his father’s actions for years, until the day he’d watched an extra lesson with a group of students almost get them killed.

Kid shakes his head.

God, it was always Black Star. His mind couldn’t conjure up anything else lately. Even from the beginning, the idea to join the academy at all was because he’d seen Stein use his wavelength to electrocute Black Star. The cruelty of the supposed “lesson” had Kid leaping to his feet, ready to break through the mirror and help him. It had always been Black Star.

Even if he didn’t feel the same way.

Kid reaches the top of the colossal staircase. The last place he’d spoken to Black Star.

After Black Star left that night, Kid had no idea where he went. He thought of using his Soul Perception to look for him in the city, but had respected Black Star’s need for space. He let him leave the Gallows Mansion in a frustrated huff. As much as Kid wanted to try and smooth things over somehow, he wouldn’t have known what to say. That he was sorry? That he took it back?

If Kid had a choice, he probably would have spent the next week avoiding eye contact with Black Star after his failed attempt at connection. But Black Star never did what people wanted him to do.

He cornered Kid in one of the classrooms the following day, a mean glint in his eye that had left Kid reeling when he commanded Kid to come outside. Kid followed him soundlessly, expecting perhaps a second round of rejection, and instead witnessed Black Star lightly walk to the end of that right spike and slam his fist down. Kid watched the spike crash down into the courtyard below, not understanding what was going on until Black Star challenged him to a fight.

And maybe Kid had been too harsh. But the hurt that had built up inside him over the past day was making his fists itch, and if Black Star wanted a way to take out his problems, Kid wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. It’s not like Black Star cared if he hurt him, so why should Kid give a shit?

It was symmetry, obviously. For every painful pulse of Kid’s heart, he laid into Black Star, not caring about his turmoil. Even when the fight was decidedly over, Kid placed a foot on the back of his head and smashed him into the ground, a crater forming around them both from the impact.

Weak.

None of Kid’s blows would have had a lasting effect on Black Star. But that one word would.

It was petty, and maybe a little mean, but it worked. Kid had won the fight, and he felt no better than he did when the day had started.

And yet somehow, when all the chips were down, it was Black Star who saved him from that mage in Baba Yaga’s Castle. The unsteady beating of Kid’s heart quickens at the thought of it. His arm, lying in a pool of blood in front of him. His body, frozen in place from the imbalance. That hand, reaching for him, to capture him, to kill him, to prove Kid’s glaring weakness would always be his downfall.

And somehow, Black Star was there. Kid didn’t even know he’d returned from Japan, but suddenly he was in front of him, saving him when Kid had been nothing but cruel to him the last time they spoke.

It’s simple stuff, really. Black Star had once said.

That’s why he has me.

Kid’s vision blurs as he looks at that spike. From where he stands, no one would ever be able to tell that a ninja had destroyed it.

Weak.

The only weak person here is Kid.

Kid’s equilibrium has always been impeccable. That’s not the reason he’s swaying right now, as he takes slow and measured steps to the edge of the red spike. It’s not the height either, though the courtyard at the summit of the DWMA’s colossal staircase lies 50 feet below him. But he feels himself swaying all the same, the heavy mallet in his grip pulsing like its alive. It’s a dead thing, a normal inanimate tool, but the potential destruction lying within it is the same as any weapon student at this academy.

As the sun rises, Kid walks toward the tip of the decorative spike. Through his blurred vision he can just make out the heavy duty bolts he had hammered into it but a few months ago. The neat lines of melted solder is his handiwork as well, bringing out a soldering gun Kid purchased with his own funds to reattach the spike that Black Star had cruelly destroyed for a second time.

Maybe symmetry had always been Kid’s problem. If this was the one way he could prove to himself that he didn’t need it, maybe it would change something. Maybe Black Star’s investigation would finally become important, maybe Kid’s research would finally be fruitful, maybe the hollow feeling in his chest would finally stop gaping wider and wider, the guilt clawing at the edges of the cavity painfully.

Kid raises the mallet.

Symmetry doesn’t matter. Order isn’t important. Kid is a god, he will not be held down—held back—by such insignificant notions anymore. He rears the mallet back, not acknowledging how his hands shake, how his eyes sting, because that doesn’t matter. He will destroy this stupid, decorative spike and prove once and for all that he isn’t a liability.

It’s simple stuff, really.

It’s not. He doesn’t need protection, he doesn’t to be saved. He’s Death the fucking Kid, he just needs to bring this stupid mallet down—

His breath hitches high, his shoulders going numb.

He just needs to bring this stupid mallet down—

He just needs to—

He just—

“Kid?”

Kid hauls in a gasp. The spike shakes, the even vibrations of footsteps quickly approaching. Someone is pulling the mallet gently from his grip, fingers closing around his shoulders and pulling him back toward solid ground. Kid can hardly see through his tears.

“Kid?” Tsubaki says again.

“I’m sorry,” he lets out, before falling to pieces.

He’s not sure how long he cries for. Tsubaki, in all her gentle patience, holds him through all of it, pressing his face into her shoulder, though she must loathe him. Kid sure does, so he can’t see why Tsubaki wouldn’t. It makes him cry harder, to think that in all of this he hasn’t thought of her feelings. He’s been so caught up in his own grief he’s barely had time to think about how hard these last few months has been on her, how the soul she was so intrinsically connected to is gone.

But she holds him tightly, her arms a warm and comforting embrace, her fingers gently combing through his hair as his sobs taper off into pathetic hiccups.

“I’m sorry,” he tries again, but it’s just as weak as before.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks earnestly. “And what were you even doing up there?”

Kid tries his best to explain. Between stuttering breaths and continuously swallowing down the lump in his throat, Kid tells her how this whole thing, this whole stupid mess is his fault. How he tried to fix it, tried to fix him, by intentionally destroying.

Tsubaki looks shocked at that. “You were destroying the symmetry of the academy? Why would you punish yourself like that?”

Kid has nothing to say to that. The answer is clear.

“Kid? Kid look at me.” With effort, Kid does. It’s the most eye contact he’s made with her in months. The cavern in his heart grows wider.

She lays a hand on his cheek. “This isn’t your fault.”

Kid jerks away bitterly. “Even you don’t believe that.”

It takes a moment before she responds again. Tsubaki takes a deep breath.

“You’re right.”

Kid’s eyes cut to hers.

Tsubaki’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You’re right. Part of me thinks it’s your fault. I haven’t been able to speak to you this whole time because I didn’t want to say it.”

Kid nods. It’s what he deserves to hear. He lets his heart crumble, the emptiness feeling all consuming—

But Tsubaki grips his hands in hers, hard.

“But Black Star doesn’t think that.”

Kid’s voice is small. “What?”

Tsubaki rubs her thumbs over Kid’s knuckles. “I know my partner better than anyone. Black Star would never for a second blame you for the predicament he’s in now. It was his choice to jump between you and that man. And he didn’t do it because you were too weak,” Tsubaki says with a sad smile. “He did it because he’s Black Star. He’d never willingly stand aside if you were going to be hurt. That’s just the kind of person he is.”

The pressure inside of Kid lightens, just a little bit.

“He’s an idiot,” Kid says, mirroring Tsubaki’s sad smile.

A little laugh escapes her. “I know that better than anyone, too.” She swings their hands between them gently. “So, if you can forgive my partner for being an idiot and getting himself into trouble, you can forgive yourself too, right? Neither of you can help who you are.”

The smile stays on Kid’s face until that last part. But what she said has helped him. He’s made his mind up.

“You’re right, Tsubaki,” he says, feeling more sure of himself than he has all day.

He can’t help who he is.

Kid marches into the Death Room, set on finally having an honest talk with his father. He’s waited long enough for the nebulous “time and place” to rescue Black Star. If Lord Death himself wasn’t going to spearhead the search, Kid would do it himself.

At least, that was the conversation he planned on having. But instead of finding his father sitting idly at his tea table, when Kid enters the Death Room, he sees, of all things, a party.

Raucous music thumps through the chamber. There are three scantily clad Chupa Cabra’s employees distributing booze to Spirit Albarn, Professor Stein, and Miss Marie. Even his father holds a cup, liquid sloshing over the side as he raises his arm with the others in a hearty cheer. For some reason, Maka and Soul are here too, standing a few paces back, looking just as baffled as Kid and Tsubaki.

Kid feels like he walked into another dimension.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Lord Death tips his head back to look around Spirit, whose tie is wound around his head like a headband.

“Kid! Perfect timing! Come join the party!”

The party.

The

party.

The low-hanging misty clouds in the Death Room start to darken.

“Kid?”

His father’s silly voice comes out confused. Like he couldn’t possibly gather why this joyous celebration of life might not be appropriate, given the situation. All of the situations.

“Is now really the time, Father?” Kid asks, voice low.

“Come, sit down, have some food! I was just going to tell—”

“No,” Kid says.

Thunder claps loudly. The whole room flinches. Kid doesn’t care.

“I’m going to tell you something. Your nonchalance for the past few months has been shameful. One of your students was kidnapped on one of your missions, and you’ve done nothing for him. And now you audaciously throw a party when the GOD OF MADNESS is bringing the world to ruin, something else that YOU CAUSED—”

The thunder bellows again, and when lightning flashes across the Death Room, all the inhabitants instinctively duck.

Lord Death stands up and hovers over Kid at his full height, the soulless eyes of his mask looking down at him intimidatingly.

“Kid, stop.”

And for once, he doesn’t use his silly voice.

Kid doesn’t back down, but he takes a deep, slow breath. The clouds in the Death Room dissipate, and the room slowly starts to brighten. Kid looks at his father.

Lord Death’s voice is calm. He reaches a large, gloved hand backwards. Maka steps forward gingerly and places a thick white book in his over-sized palm.

“We were celebrating because—” he holds the book out to Kid “—we found him.”

Kid gasps.

Like flicking on a light, the Chupa Cabra employee’s souls light up, powerful magic radiating from them. Kid blinks at the realization. They’ve released Soul Protect. They’re witches.

None of the other meisters in the room look surprised. Stein and Sid watch the women carefully, and Maka’s eyes are on the book in Lord Death’s hands, guilt clouding her expression.

Lord Death ignores everyone else’s reactions, eyes boring into Kid’s and Kid’s only.

“We found Black Star. Extraction begins tomorrow.”

3. black star

It takes Black Star longer than it probably should to realize what’s happened to him.

He remembers Baba Yaga’s Castle. He remembers Kid’s panic, his arm splattering to the floor, a few feet from the rest of him. He remembers a menacing hand, reaching for him once more, this time with the intent to do much worse than remove an arm. He remembers running. And then--?

He shakes his head a little, the movement causing a loud clanking sound above his head. The sound stirs his memory a bit more, and as his thoughts start to clear his senses return to him. There’s an awkward stretch to his arms, his shoulders rotated uncomfortably. His pulse pounds in his ears. And he feels heavy.

Finally, Black Star peels his eyes open.

This doesn’t look like Baba Yaga’s Castle.

It’s darker than he expected. He’s in a large room, or at least he assumes it’s a room. Beneath his feet is a dusty black and white tiled floor, and before him he sees an ornate table and a matching set of chairs. When he cranes his neck he can see a high vaulted ceiling above him, but even when he squints into the darkness beyond the table set, he can’t make out the opposing wall that must be there. The only light in the room comes from somewhere behind him. A stained-glass window shines a colored pattern on the tiled floor.

Black Star himself seems to be suspended in the middle of the room. The shackles that were slapped on his wrists moments ago (when was that? Minutes ago? Hours? How long was he out?) are still on him, now attached to a long chain hanging from the ceiling. Black Star’s arms have been yanked above his head, so here he hangs, his bare and bandaged feet just barely able to touch the floor. How the hell did he get here?

“Hello?” Black Star croaks into the empty air. He grimaces at the sound of his own voice, clears his throat and tries again. “HELLO?”

Nothing.

Where the hell is he? How long was he out?

“HELLOOOOO? ANYBODY HOME?” he shouts, his voice stretching and echoing in the dimly lit chamber.

A hard blow to his back, right between his shoulder blades, alerts Black Star that he is not alone in this room. The breath he just sucked in to prepare for another shout is abruptly punched out of him. Black Star flounders for a moment before pulling in a gasp.

“Silence, captive! You’re disturbing Noah-sama’s peace!” his assailant says, squeaky and irritated.

“Who the fuck are you?” Black Star growls.

A boy not much older than Black Star, with slicked back hair and an impressive frown comes into view.

“My name is no concern of yours, captive,” he says.

A much more intimidating voice speaks next. “So your name is of no concern, but you dare to speak mine?”

The boy shivers, his upper half snapping downward into a deep bow.

“I deeply apologize, Noah-sama!”

A dark hand reaches out and strikes the boy abruptly on the back of the head. His bow deepens. It’s that hand that has Black Star on alert. This is the man who hurt Kid with a single touch. He twists in his restraints, pulling his hands apart and testing the strength of the iron when—

“AUGHH!!!”

A shock like a bolt of lightning runs through Black Star.

He hangs limply for a moment, panting. The pain surprised him so much that he doesn’t have the energy to cower when Noah steps into his line of sight. Through the haze of pain Black Star eyes him, a tall, dark-skinned man in a military cap and black jacket. His clothing doesn’t hold Black Star’s attention though. All he can fixate on is the smug grin on his face.

“Do you like your restraints? I made them myself.”

Black Star grits his teeth.

“No? A shame. They’re a fine creation. A bona fide Magic Tool worthy of Eibon himself.” He paces around Black Star, just out of his line of vision. Try as he might to twist his neck to look over his shoulder, the angle of Black Star’s arms above his head limits his range of moment. Noah’s deep voice continues to speak somewhere behind him. “Unfortunately, those cuffs were not meant for you. You’re an unexpected complication to my plans.”

Black Star doesn’t like the sound of that. An “unexpected complication” sounds a lot like “collateral damage.” He can’t see the man’s hands. He has no way to block him if Noah touches him.

“You see,” he continues calmly. “There was a certain person I was expecting to add to my collection. A god, if you will.”

Kid.

Black Star twists again, trying to track Noah’s movements.

“And I was this close to having him in my grasp. That is until someone—”

Suddenly he’s in front of Black Star, fist rearing back. Black Star lifts his legs up, forcing himself to hang heavily from his restraints to protect himself, but Noah reacquaints Black Star with his superhuman speed, easily connecting his fist to Black Star’s stomach before his knees can guard his core. The blow is so much worse than his servant’s last hit. Black Star swings back on his restraints, almost perpendicular with the ground, before heavily flopping back down, his full weight snapping against the place where his wrists touch the cuffs.

“—decided to take his place. It was very rude of you to ruin my plans, boy.”

It takes a moment for Black Star to even remember how to cough, much less breathe. He rasps out a dry breath, surprising himself that he hasn’t thrown up. His restraints clank together loudly for several long moments, until Black Star finally stops swinging.

Noah looks down his nose at Black Star like he’s an insect needing to be squashed.

“Now I have to decide what to do with you.”

“Kill him, Noah-sama. We have no need for him,” the younger boy calls petulantly.

“Silence, Gopher,” Noah snaps, rearing back to look at the boy. Gopher cowers in fear yet again.

Noah turns his attention back to Black Star. “My insulant servant makes a point,” he says to Black Star, continuing his slow pacing once more. “I have no need for humans in my collection. I’m aiming my attention much higher.”

Black Star’s blood boils at the insinuation of his own weakness. Against his better judgement, he speaks up. “You think I’m not worth keeping around? I’m not just a human. I’m the man who will defeat GOD,” he says with his whole chest.

Noah’s eyebrows rise in surprise, hidden under the shadow of his cap. “Oh?”

He rears back his fist again. Black Star knew speaking out of turn would have consequences, but if this man was going to kill him anyway, the least Black Star could do was not be a fucking wimp about it. He braces himself for the blow—

But it never comes.

Noah’s fist stops centimeters from his face, the veins popping in his arms from restraint.

He lowers his arm slowly. “You think you will defeat God?”

Black Star spits at his feet, a small bit of blood mixed into his saliva. “I know I will.”

Noah appraises him. His silence is just as intimidating as his yelling. Black Star does his best not to wince or tense just feeling Noah’s gaze fall on him. Something in Noah’s expression changes, like the flip of a switch, from intensity to calm neutrality.

A small flame lights inside of Black Star. Maybe this man won’t kill him.

Suddenly, that all-encompassing electric current runs through his body again, a cobra strike of unadulterated pain.

Black Star screams. It only lasts a moment, but it’s just as powerful as the first time, and just as surprising. All of Black Star’s nerve endings feel fried.

Black Star cracks open an eyelid he barely remembers closing, and when his vision clears, he sees Noah’s face, directly in front of his.

“You think you will defeat God.” A smug grin splits his face in two as he watches Black Star tremble. Black Star can feel Noah’s breath on his face as whispers with a vindictive kind of glee. “You can’t even get yourself out of those cuffs.”

Black Star lunges at him, but is stopped short by his restraints.

When the shock rips through his body this time, he expects it.

Black Star is left alive, but only just.

He’s not sure where he is, but it doesn’t seem like the reality he’s used to. He hasn’t had a crumb of food or a drop to water in what feels like days, but somehow, he’s still kicking.

And kicking he is, aiming a wild shot at Gopher, the servant boy who seems to have been tasked with watching over him while Noah is away. Black Star isn’t close enough to make contact unless he swings back on his cuffs to give him more leverage. His wrists have been rubbed raw a long time ago, and it hurts like a motherfucker to do so, but Black Star opts to swing anyway.

He clips him with his foot, probably not hard enough to hurt, but he rocks back a little in surprise. It makes him mad, which is the real goal.

“Quit it!” he shouts, sounding like a child trying to appeal to an older sibling to stop bullying him. All of his tough-guy bravado seems to evaporate the second Noah leaves, which is interesting, since he’s a submissive little bitch the second Noah opens his mouth around him anyway.

“Make me,” Black Star says with a laugh. It’s easier to feel optimistic when the freak mage is away. Noah has opted not to kill Black Star—for now—saying that he’s using him as experimentation for the cuffs. All’s well for Black Star, who spends his time optimistically tormenting his guard. He doesn’t have to figure out the cuffs. That sounds like a Maka job, maybe a Stein one. His mind skirts off Kid’s name and swoops away from it, not wanting to think about Kid too hard. Last time Black Star saw him he was down one arm. Even if they did manage to patch Kid up to make him ready for a rescue mission, the last time they spoke to each other…

Whatever. Black Star elects not to think about it. He taunts Gopher in the meantime, knowing rescue will come soon.

A shock wave hits his body again, hard and fast. Black Star grits his teeth, shaking his arms in frustration. The chains above him clang together, taunting him.

“Ha!” Gopher mocks gleefully, now a safe distance away from Black Star. He sits on the table and stares at Black Star. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

The pain doesn’t go away once the cuffs stop shocking him. His whole body retains the sting. Every skin cell, every strand of hair, every muscle, every bone. It takes more effort than he’d like to admit to appear unaffected, but Black Star tries. He won’t let this coward see him down.

“Don’t have to be cocky to know I’m stronger than you,” Black Star says, his voice hoarse. His vocal chords get fried too, and god forbid these people give him water. “That’s not ego talking; it’s a fact.”

Black Star doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone frown so aggressively. Maybe Kid, when Soul sacrificed the Gallows Mansion décor as punishment during a game of pick-up basketball. When Soul said they’d move all the picture frames 2 centimeters if their team lost, Kid looked like he’d been shot. But even that hilarious expression has nothing on this guy.

Gopher stands up suddenly—on top of the table, of all places—and holds his arms out wide. Before Black Star can ask what the hell he’s doing, Gopher is jumping high, and inky black wings are shooting from his back and gliding him right towards Black Star. He gets a fist to his face for his smart mouth, and in one smooth motion Gopher has glided back to the table and landed lightly on his feet.

The whole thing lasted maybe 3 seconds.

His frown is replaced by a cocky grin, which looks wrong on his face, like his facial muscles aren’t used to turning his mouth upwards.

“Impressed now, captive?”

Finally, some entertainment.

Black Star spits out a bit of blood.

“Not even a little bit.”

It goes on like that for a while. Black Star taunting Gopher, Gopher taking out his inadequate fighting prowess on Black Star, rinse, repeat. Maybe Black Star shouldn’t be goading the enemy on, but he’s fought toddlers stronger than this guy, and it keeps things interesting. It’s better than hanging here, alone with his thoughts.

That’s a much more dangerous game. Because then his mind begins to wander.

How many days has it been?

How long until someone comes looking for him?

Is Tsubaki doing okay without him?

How is Kid’s arm? Is he recovering okay?

Has the search party already started?

Are they mad at him for getting caught?

Is anyone taking care of Angela?

Does Kid still hate him because of their last fight?

When will help come?

It’s exhausting. Black Star doesn’t like wallowing in his self-pity, but being stuck here has given him plenty of wallowing time. Just when he thought he was getting over that hump, passing through the storm that had been raging in his mind, he finds himself kidnapped and waiting for rescue. Another feather to add to the Black Star dunce cap.

It’s not that he hasn’t tried freeing himself. Gopher isn’t always around, and he hasn’t seen Noah since that first day. (How many days has it been?) When Black Star isn’t being watched by that brat he goes to work, using all the strength he can muster to twist his hands back and forth in their shackles, to push and pull and push and pull like he might be wriggle out or weaken his bonds somehow.

But whenever Black Star feels he’s making progress, his sweaty hand dipping a little lower in the cuff or the metal groaning a tiny bit under his force, a blast of electric energy ripples through his entire body, like it’s a lightning bolt designated to strike right when Black Star’s hope is at its peak.

The shock always takes him out, losing his concentration in escape and sometimes just making him lose consciousness altogether.

When he comes to, he’s back where he started, hanging limply in the dim light of the room, with dark thoughts rolling in.

It’s hard to know how long he’s been here. After this long, Black Star has at least been able to deduce that it’s not the same reality he’s used to. Enough time has passed for Black Star to either be dead from starvation or dehydration, and yet neither have done him in. He also notes that injuries don’t seem to heal wherever he is, or if they do, it’s much slower.

The bandages Nygus carefully wove around his head and feet fell away ages ago, and Black Star has watched the blood steadily pool beneath his feet for what feels like centuries. He watches the slow drips spatter into dark pools on the tile below him and invents meaning for the different shapes to pass the time.

A fist that looks oddly like Fire or Thunder.

A swoop that sort of resembles Soul’s scythe form.

A skull shape that looks the rings Kid wears on each index finger.

It’s not the most entertaining way to pass the time, but it’s a change in scenery. Sometime Black Star wakes up from another round of shocking and the blood is gone. It’s hard to tell if it’s the logic of this strange place that eliminates it or if Gopher has come and cleaned it up. Black Star hopes it’s the latter, if only for the hilarious image he has in his head of Gopher crawling beneath him with a cloth, mopping up his blood and cowering every time Black Star so much as twitches, fearing a kick to the head.

At this point he should have bled out, too. Probably.

But still he lives.

“Having fun in your imprisonment, little Star Clan boy?” Gopher says as he practically skips into view.

Black Star, tracing a pattern of blood on the floor resembling a cat, looks up suddenly at that.

“What did you just say?”

Gopher sneers. “I thought that might get a reaction. Noah-sama is very thorough in researching what’s being kept in his collection.” He sits down on the table and again and crosses his legs primly. He lifts up a clipboard he’s been carrying and reads robotically. “Black Star. Former Star Clan member. Collected by DWMA at age one and monitored regularly by head of the intelligence division. Weapons specialist. Assassin-in-training.”

Black Star rolls his eyes. Well, the one eye that isn’t swollen. “I’m not an ‘assassin-in-training.’ Just an assassin. Period. And what the hell do you mean, ‘monitored’?” Sid and Nygus were his foster parents, not some guard dogs.

Gopher flips through the pages idly. “You didn’t really think the DWMA would just let a Star Clan member run around off-leash, did you?”

“I’m not a Star Clan member. Those idiots were reaped when I was just a brat.”

“And you were the one that wasn’t reaped. Makes sense why they had to keep a close eye on you. Didn’t you just say you were an assassin?”

“It’s not the same thing,” Black Star growls. “I’m not like them.”

Gopher crosses his arms behind his back and smiles. “Sounds the same to me.”

Black Star wants nothing more than to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. He wants to kick him in the nuts and pound his stupid face until it’s black and blue. He wants rip his stupid oily hair out of his stupid oily head and hit him with his Soul Force—

A bolt of electricity rips through his body, shocking him from fingertips to feet.

“FUCK,” Black Star shouts. “God. Fuck.”

Gopher looks exceedingly pleased.

Black Star hangs heavily, ignoring Gopher and focusing on the pain, the way his whole body trembles from it.

This should be the easy part. The pain. Black Star has taken a lot of hits in his life, he thought he was accustomed to the feel of it. He was Star Clan after all. A double-edged sword destined to slice himself up at every opportunity. He had inherited the power and skill of his namesake, which made him dangerous, but not the morals, which made him an enigma. People didn’t know how to act around the boy who should have been reaped. He could tell since he was just a brat that every second of his life he would be forced to prove himself, and that motivated him when it would have made others crumble.

Black Star took it in stride. The scrutiny, the apprehension, the fear that he’d turn out like the demon that gave him life. He didn’t care why they were looking, all that was important was that all eyes were on him. Gathering adoring fans was that much easier when he already had an audience. He’d make sure that no one would be able to associate him with the Star Clan, because every time they heard the name Black Star it would be laced with greatness.

So he trained. He got stronger, faster, louder, bolder, and it really felt like it was working. He partnered with Tsubaki, the most versatile weapon in DWMA history, to further prove the point that he was the fucking best, and no one was able to dispute it. Except—

“Another mission and no souls?” Sid propped his head on his fist and looked at Black Star from across the table. “You botched it again, didn’t you?”

“Did I ask for the color commentary?” Black Star asked around a mouthful of dinner, glaring at Sid over his plate.

“No, but as a teacher I feel like I have the right to give it,” Sid said evenly.

“We’ll get one, just give it a rest already,” Black Star said, but he was deflecting, and they both knew it. He had the skill to collect souls. He had the drive, but—

He rolled his arm in its socket, his left hand gripping his right shoulder tightly.

Sid watched his motions carefully, eyes tracing Black Star’s tattoo. “If you’re still feeling self-conscious about it, the DWMA has name changing forms in the front office. No one would associate you with him anymore.”

But Black Star hated that idea. Changing his name was as good as giving up. He’d carry the weight of his father’s sins and rise above it, the way he always had—

Gopher’s bitchy little fingers snap sharply, the sound echoing in empty expanse of the dark room.

“Are you even listening to me?” Gopher barks, right up in Black Star’s face.

Black Star blinks.

No, he wasn’t. He doesn’t even remember zoning out, but somewhere along the way he got lost in a memory. The longer he stays here, the harder it is to focus on the here and now.

Gopher does his best to taunt him further, but Black Star’s mind is still back at that dinner table with Sid, wondering if collecting a soul would have made difference either way. Everyone already knew he was the strongest meister at the academy. He could have made Tsubaki a Death Scythe in no time at all if he really put his mind to it.

But there was just something about Black Star, son of White Star, collecting souls…

It was Death the Kid who brought things into focus for Black Star.

Sure, Black Star was strong, anyone with eyes could see that. But proving that he was the best was hard when people like Maka and Soul were so easily besting him in the soul-collecting department. And as much as Maka liked to trot around and act like she was better than everyone for being such a model student, Black Star could see through her shtick. He wasn’t aiming to be a teacher’s pet, he was aiming to be the biggest, strongest guy around. Killing small-fry kishin to rack up 99 souls might have been a quantifiable way to prove greatness, but where was the quality?

Enter: Death the Kid.

Black Star couldn’t have planned anything more perfect. A shinigami was coming to study at the academy. A living, breathing god.

Fuck soul-collecting. Black Star had a new goal. “The man who would defeat God” had a much nicer ring to it than “strongest kid in school,” after all.

Kid was everything he expected a shinigami to be. Powerful, capable, precise. A perfect match-up for someone like Black Star to test his skills on. Except—

Well, he also wasn’t anything like Black Star expected. Neurotic to the point of it being almost embarrassing, Kid dropped like a brick whenever his symmetry was disturbed. Black Star and Soul narrowly won their fight against him on his first day of school, a victory Black Star loved lording over him, but in the long-run it didn’t feel like it meant much. Black Star wanted a proper fight with Kid, and he wanted to win.

After that, Black Star measured himself against Kid at every available opportunity. In height, Kid was 2 centimeters taller than him. In meister skills, Kid had Soul Perception and an unwavering trust between him and his partners that made his power output explosive and deadly. In basketball, he had a killer jump shot.

“Are you just good at everything?” Black Star asked one day, smacking the ball out of his hands after the last play. Kid only smirked at him, which was all the more annoying.

But he was also such a weirdo. The first time they spent together by themselves was their mission to find Excalibur. Black Star couldn’t not go, after finding out his rival was searching to find the strongest weapon in the world, Black Star had to get to it first. To wield it himself or prevent Kid from getting to it, he wasn’t sure. What he didn’t anticipate was carrying Kid piggyback after he refused to walk through a few inches of water, worried about the hems of his suit pants getting damp. Black Star could hardly remember how negotiations went for that, just that suddenly his archrival was seated on his back, his legs looped tightly around Black Star’s waist like he was nervous he’d let him go. Black Star couldn’t make sense of it.

And maybe after that it was a little easier to tolerate him. He was fun to mess with, fucking around with things in the Gallows Mansion just to watch Kid blow a gasket trying to return everything to its proper place. He’d partner with Kid in the gym and show off his strength like it was nothing, only for Kid to make a comment about his superior pinky strength that would send Black Star into a tailspin. They made Patti measure their pinky widths with measuring tape (Kid’s was slightly bigger), and then they both spent the next hour trying to do pull-ups from their pinkies alone.

He was funny, with a wry sense of a humor hidden behind a prim and proper exterior. A sly comment coming from Kid always felt like a gift somehow, an exclusive moment the two of them shared.

And he was strong. Black Star, Maka, and their partners found themselves on Kid’s Resonance Team, and when their souls reached out for one another for the first time, Black Star’s connected with Kid’s with no complications: two Lego bricks clicking together like they were meant to be connected, while Black Star and Maka repelled each other like water and oil, despite being friends since they were little.

The idea of Kid being Black Star’s rival wasn’t at the forefront of his mind anymore, and he didn’t really care. They’d go into a battle together, and Black Star would jump into the fray with the reckless abandon of a man who knew his back was covered. Sometimes he came out a little more battered than necessary, but if it meant keeping his teammates out of harm’s way, Black Star didn’t mind much. Having all eyes on him was more his speed, and the glowing pair of gold ones that always seemed to be following him didn’t hurt, either.

But then things started to shift. Then Kishin was revived. The Uncanny Sword was getting harder to use. Then Black Star lost to Mifune. Then to Mosquito. Loss after loss after loss was piling up on Black Star’s heart, and the pressure was starting to hurt. Why could he not win anymore? He thought he was getting stronger, but all of a sudden every step he took had him backsliding further. Black Star could feel it affecting him, corroding his insides with every passing day. Something needed to change.

“We could go see my family?” Tsubaki said after finally cornering Black Star into confessing what was blackening his mood.

Black Star slammed his open palm into the swinging punching bag before him, not using Soul Force on it this time because Nygus kept harping on him and Kid for “damaging the equipment.”

“What does your family have to do with anything?” he asked crossly.

Tsubaki was more patient with him than he deserved. She always took his dark moods in stride. She smiled politely and caught the bag on an upswing, absorbing the momentum of it and lowering it to a still position carefully.

“They might be able to teach us more about the Uncanny Sword. Don’t you think the Nakatsukasa Clan would be the perfect people to ask?”

Black Star had always assumed every problem could be solved through force of will alone. But it was starting to become clearer that he needed help. He nodded, and Tsubaki let him know she would make the arrangements soon. It might not be enough to make a difference, but it was worth trying. Nothing at the DWMA seemed to be helping, anyway.

Going to Japan again was concerning, but Black Star would get through it the same way he always had. White Star’s mistakes were his to bear now. The hatred he received would fade when the people of Japan bore witness to Black Star’s greatness. Probably.

Kid saw through him easily when he told him about it. Black Star shouldn’t have been surprised. Kid had Soul Perception, so he probably just took a peek in Black Star’s chest and saw how erratic he was feeling. (Though Black Star knew deep down that wasn’t it. That Kid knew him. Better than most, in fact. Kid was always surprising him with how much he knew about Black Star, or how much he could tell just from his silence.) Black Star did what he always ended up doing around Kid: opening up. He wasn’t sure how an over-powered shinigami with a symmetry obsession had that kind of effect on him, but somewhere down the line Black Star had gotten closer to Kid than he ever thought possible.

But something about that closeness felt…wrong.

Getting close to Kid, in that moment, was too much of a mindfuck. Black Star could feel himself teetering on the edge of a dark precipice, and somehow Kid was beside him, talking about how similar they were. They both had issues comparing themselves to their fathers, they both held themselves to higher esteems than other people, and their perfectionism got the best of them. He framed it like it was a good thing, like they were equals, and it made Black Star want to scream.

Because they couldn’t be equals. Not then. Black Star was supposed to defeat God, and now here he was, leaving the academy with his tail between his legs to go find some outside source to help him regain his strength. Kid wasn’t allowed to be this low. He wasn’t supposed to be a fallible person with similar wants and fears. He was a god Black Star was supposed to fucking crush, so why did it feel like a black hole was swallowing him up instead? He wanted to hold Kid’s hand and tell him it would be alright. He wanted to feel the gentle press of Kid’s lips as his face lingered closer and closer, but nothing about Black Star felt gentle in that moment. He was on the verge of shaking apart. It was too fucking much.

He left the Gallows Mansion early that night, pacing the streets of Death City and trying to formulate a plan. The foundation of his soul felt shakier than ever, and he needed a way to stabilize his fragile wavelength. So, fuck it. He’d prove how much stronger he’d gotten. He’d prove it to himself, to Kid, to the whole fucking academy that he was indisputably the strongest. He’d leave the academy on a high, then go master the Uncanny Sword with Tsubaki.

The feeling of his head getting ground into the asphalt under Kid’s rubber sole was the final straw.

Weak.

Black Star was a man who contained multitudes, but he couldn’t take that final loss. He pulled himself from the crater in the DWMA’s courtyard and left without a word. He and Tsubaki were on a flight to Japan the very next day.

He hadn’t spoken to Kid since.

All that training, all that growing and healing he’d done in Japan, and Kid never got to see any of it. He’d meant to come back to the academy and surprise Kid with his newfound maturity and purpose. He’d apologize for the way he acted back then, and maybe, if Kid forgave him—

But that didn’t happen. Instead, Black Star hangs from the shackles in this mysterious, otherworldly realm, soundly defeated by one man and a pair of magic handcuffs.

Maybe he was weak.

“You are the great and powerful Black Star, and you will not give up.”

Black Star chants it like a mantra. Never when Gopher is around, God no, he’d never let him live it down. But when the shadows of the expansive room start creeping in, Black Star sometimes needs a reminder that he’s no quitter. That someone will come for him. He’ll get a small shock from the cuffs, who seemingly hate any time he tries to have a positive thought of any kind, but he keeps chanting it regardless.

Great and powerful. Don’t give up.

Gopher hasn’t been around much lately. Off doing minion things, or perched dutifully at Noah’s feet like the pathetic lapdog he is, maybe. It’s weird, though, not being guarded. Do they think Black Star doesn’t need a guard anymore? That he has no chance of escape?

It twists something in Black Star’s gut to think the enemy thinks he’s given up. That isn’t something he can accept. So during one of those long stretches of time that Gopher is gone, Black Star goes back to trying to free himself.

It’s slow work. He doesn’t have any tools, and the deep black shackles fit on his wrist almost to the skin. He’s tried slipping a hand out before, but the space is too narrow. Black Star focuses on the second means of escape: breaking the shackles.

He was the strongest student at the DWMA, it shouldn’t be hard. He can punch through walls and climb mountains without equipment, how difficult can it be to shatter some handcuffs?

He gathers all the mental strength he can muster, breathing in deeply, then starts pulling his wrists apart. Sweat and blood run down his face as the metal cuts into his skin. He just needs—to snap—the cuffs—apart—

Black Star cries out when electricity rips through his body.

God, every time. Every fucking time it feels like he’s making progress, the magic in the cuffs electrifies him like he’s metal rod in and open field. Black Star growls low in his throat, the frustration building like it always does. He can’t try again yet, forced to sit and stew while tremors wrack his frame.

“You are the great and powerful Black Star, and you will not give up,” his hoarse voice reminds him. It’s not as convincing as he wants it to be.

He waits for the shaking to subside, for the tingling in his spine to return to the same constant ache, then mentally readies himself for another attempt.

That’s what Black Star is doing when Justin Law suddenly appears before him

A piece of paper like a ripped-out page from a book, flicks into existence in front of Black Star, burning at the edges. Black Star stares at it curiously, watching the orange tinted border creep closer and closer to the center, then a bright flash of light like a portal opens up, and the youngest Death Scythe ever created was walking though.

Black Star can’t believe his eyes.

Finally. After who knows how long, help has arrived. Black Star will get to go home. He’s so struck he’s almost speechless from it.

That only lasts a minute before Black Star is screaming his head off.

“HEY! HEY! OVER HERE!” He wriggles his whole body, rattling his chains together as loudly as possible to get Justin’s attention.

He doesn’t care if Gopher or Noah shows up at this point. He just needs to get out.

It takes a while to get his attention. Black Star can’t fathom what he’d be looking at; the only things in this room are a table and Black Star. And the giant stained-glass window behind him. Justin’s eyes seem to scan right over Black Star, fixating on the large circular window for a long time. Black Star shakes even harder.

“JUSTIN FUCKING LAW. STOP LOOKING AT THE STUPID WINDOW AND HELP.”

Justin’s blue eyes finally flick to Black Star, his expression carefully neutral.

Black Star tries not to let his anger get the best of him. “Finally, jeez. I’m right here. You wanna get to work or what?” He shakes his arms again. “You’re a guillotine aren’t you? I’m sure you could make pretty quick work of these.”

But Justin is still looking at Black Star carefully, not saying anything.

“Helloooooo, Mr. Priest. Can you hear me? What kind of shitty rescuer are you?”

Justin smirks and taps a piece of plastic in his ears. His stupid headphones. He’s wearing them, even now.

“Don’t worry, I can read lips just fine,” he says evenly, though there’s the barest hint of amusement in his voice.

“Then GET TO WORK,” Black Star says, emotion rising within him. What the hell is this guy waiting on?

But Justin is looking behind him again, like Black Star suddenly isn’t the most important thing in this room. Then the hair on the back of his neck raises just a bit. He may be a captive, but he’s still a ninja. He senses that someone else is in the room. Multiple people, even.

He can’t imagine anyone else it could be, so he yells “Justin, RUN!” to an extremely unflappable Justin Law. He doesn’t run, but instead tracks the movement of their two extra guests as they step into view: Gopher, and worse, Noah.

“Good catch,” he says calmly, and it takes a second for Black Star to realize that Justin is talking to Noah, about him. “Taking away the Star Clan member weakens them considerably.”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Noah says seriously, still looking at Black Star like he’s scum. Black Star is still blinking, looking at the man he knows is a DWMA staff member, talking to Noah like they’re best friends.

Another person walks into view, and Black Star really doesn’t know what’s going on. Giriko, one of Arachne’s lackeys, strolls in front of him and stalks toward the table, a beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingers. He sits at one of the chairs, legs spread wide. “I don’t see the point in keeping him alive for this long, Noah. You should have killed him ages ago.”

“Noah-sama,” Gopher squeaks from a corner.

They all ignore Gopher, like they should, and impossibly, Justin goes and takes a seat next to Giriko.

“Yo, what the fuck is going on?” Black hears someone voice his exact sentiment and realizes that the question is coming from himself. “Justin, what are you doing?”

All of the men look at Black Star with different degrees of incredulity, like they’re surprised he had the audacity to speak, given his position. Black Star himself is shocked too, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing.

“You’re from the DWMA, man. You work for Lord Death,” he says desperately. “You fought with us in the battle for Brew.” He nods his head towards Giriko, who hasn’t stopped scowling. “Against him.” He swallows down the burning in his throat. He can’t say the last part. I thought you were here to save me.

Justin is nonplussed as ever. “The only god I serve is Kishin-sama.”

Black Star’s stomach fills with concrete. A person from the DWMA has finally found him but isn’t here to rescue him. And now instead of inhabiting this prison cell with one minion, he’s surrounded by three killers.

“So what are you keeping the brat for?” Giriko asks, pointing his bottle to Black Star, who can do nothing. If they harm him, he can’t fight back. If they decide to kill him, that’ll be it.

Black Star flinches instinctively when Noah looks at him.

“He’d be good bait,” Justin says evenly. “The students and teachers care for him. Use him to draw them out.”

Giriko picks at his teeth. “As if. If he’s been here since the battle at the castle and they haven’t come looking for him yet, what’s the point?” He rolls his neck in slow loops, sighing at the popping sounds it makes. “They probably think he’s dead anyway.”

Black Star does his best not to react to that. As if it hasn’t been a constant thought in the back of his mind this whole fucking time.

But Giriko keeps talking, as if to spite him. He looks directly in his eyes and smiles. “After all, it’s been months.”

Months?

That can’t be right. There’s no way he could have been gone that long, without a whisper of chance at rescue.

But he eyes Justin, the first DWMA member he’s seen this whole time, a man who has no interest in freeing him.

…Months?

No, Black Star thinks. Kid wouldn’t give up on me. He’d know I haven’t given up yet.

Noah ignores Giriko, looking to Justin. “We don’t need bait to draw out the academy’s child soldiers. They prance about in public without any prompting at all.”

Gopher jumps in excitedly. “I found some just last week! Flying through the canyons. The Soul Perception girl and her scythe.” Black Star breathes a little heavier. She and Soul must have been out looking for him, right? Hope flutters like a small bird in his ribcage.

The cuffs zap it out of him, a quick and painful zip. Black Star grits his teeth.

Gopher keeps talking, unaware of Black Star’s pain, or perhaps just not interested in it. “They didn’t even notice my presence at first. Fools. I was able to stalk them as they goofed off for ages before they noticed. I’m sick of all of them. Flying around that canyon in their merriment. Like they’re untouchable.”

Wait, Gopher found them? Goofed off? Bitterness rolls over Black Star in waves. It’s nice to know they’re able to have such a fun time together. He’s been shackled here for months and they’re goofing off—

“Silence!”

Everyone in the room snaps to attention at Noah’s commanding voice.

“What I do with my collection is my business alone,” he says darkly. He stalks up to Black Star, who can’t help but shrink away. It’s no use, he has nowhere to hide, so when Noah stops in front of him, he’s just as vulnerable as ever. “If I want to leave him here to rot, that’s my decision.”

There’s something dead in his eyes, in the way he smiles. A haunting look passes over his face as he reaches above Black Star, grabbing the chain he’s hanging from to pull Black Star closer and swing him directly into Noah’s waiting fist.

“If I wish him harm, that’s my decision.”

Black Star gurgles out a cough at the hit. Noah is making a show of hurting him, just for the amusement of his guests, and Black Star starts to reach a boiling point. After all, he’s been here for months, and no one is coming for him. Now might be his last opportunity to bite back.

Using what little strength he has, he grabs for Noah’s hand, inches above his shackled ones, and releases his Soul Force, as powerful as he can make it. He’ll cook the fuck out of both of them if that’s what it takes. He’ll make Noah regret every taking him in the first place. He’ll—

A light shock leaves his hands, sparking into Noah’s. Barely hotter than bug zapper.

Black Star’s eyes widen in shock. That was barely anything. He can’t even muster up the strength use his own wavelength?

A shadow passes over Black Star. Noah’s stony face has transformed into one of wrath.

“You dare try to harm me?”

He grabs Black Star brutally by the hand, lifting him up until his feet aren’t even touching the ground. The sharp pain in his shoulders mixed with the rawness of his wrist being gripped has him screaming.

That haunting look has returned to his eye, and without warning he’s gripping Black Star’s hand and wrist in both hands and squeezing. Black Star thought he was in agony before, but the white-hot sensation of bones cracking has him choking for breath.

He barely holds onto consciousness when Noah drops him roughly back down, his shattered hand colliding with his shackles.

Black Star pants and shakes. His throat is raw from screaming, lungs paper dry. Tears stream down his face from just the slightest movement of his hand.

Noah looks satisfied.

He turns to the rest of his guests. Black Star’s eyes focus on the floor below them, not interested in their stupid meeting any longer.

Noah’s voice is smug.

“No one is coming for him. If I want to keep him here until he’s begging to be killed, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

They leave him alone, after that. A guard isn’t necessary, because Black Star isn’t trying to escape.

4. two souls connect

“One more chapter and we’ll finally have Black Star back!” Patti hollers encouragingly, wrapping an arm around Tsubaki, who offers up a tense smile.

Kid notes her expression. He feels the same. Traversing through the Book of Eibon hasn’t been at all like how he expected it. When the Chupa Cabra witches (with the help of a captive Eruka the frog) transported Spartoi into the Book, Kid expected to be greeted with another castle, like Baba Yaga’s. Or, at least, a prison. A fortress strong enough to keep Black Star contained, to have apparently kept an Ancient One contained at some point in time.

Instead, he was transformed into a female.

Everyone in their party seemed to have swapped physical sexes, bodies changing to forms opposite their own. It felt like a gag, as his friends guffawed at each other’s new body parts and outfits, almost immediately forgetting their main mission in favor of laughing at each other’s bewildered expressions.

The breasts that hung heavily from Kid’s chest only lasted a few brief minutes, a minor inconvenience that he paid no real mind to, seemingly the only one focused on the mission at hand. It took Kid a while to realize that each of the Chapters was centered around one of the Seven Deadly Sins, each of the new realms designed to ensnare any intruders in their own personal demons. It was an effective way to distract them from their main goal, each chapter they entered making it harder and harder to remember that their purpose was Black Star.

It didn’t help ease Kid’s mind that he couldn’t feel Black Star’s wavelength. Even now, as the group had gotten separated, Maka and Soul getting swept away to the Envy Chapter without the rest of the group, he could still distantly feel their presence, their wavelengths glowing dimly in Kid’s mind like lanterns through a thick fog.

But he can’t feel Black Star’s wavelength at all.

Even now, with one Chapter supposedly to go, Black Star’s boisterous wavelength isn’t something Kid can feel with his Soul Perception, and it’s making him nervous.

They were so sure he was here. When Maka and Soul had fought the boy named Gopher in the canyons, she recognized the symbol on the piece of paper he had jumped into to disappear. It was the same symbol on the Book of Eibon manuscript she had stolen ages ago from the restricted section of the library. The memory boils Kid’s blood a little, to think he was so close to a solution, but the book in question was hiding in Soul and Maka’s apartment under their couch.

Through the witches’ magic, they were able to see the last people who had access to the real Book of Eibon, and both Kid and Tsubaki were able to positively identify that the mage who’d kidnapped Black Star was among them.

So, it stands to reason that Black Star must be in this Book as well, right?

So why couldn’t Kid feel him?

The worry claws at his insides as he follows behind his partners, falling into step with Tsubaki.

“Once we find him, we’ll contact Kim to retrieve us right away,” Kid says, voice low. He hoists his pack a little higher on his shoulders, filled to the brim with medical supplies. “Soul and Maka can handle themselves. They know our first priority is finding Black Star.”

It seems harsh even to his own ears. They lost Maka and Soul chapters ago and haven’t been able to contact them since. The last thing Spartoi needs is more members going missing. He should be stopping them, calling Index to make them go back. They should be doing this together.

But he thinks of Black Star’s bandages, trailing behind him like red ribbons. The desperate way he jumped between Kid and the mage’s outstretched hand, right before he disappeared.

Kid surges forward.

Black Star is his priority—their priority.

The bridge they walk on feels endless. It seems the nature of the book is that a setting will go on for as long as it requires to feel narratively appropriate, not for any logical reason. Perhaps they’ll be able to move on to the next Chapter when a decision is made?

“What do you think the book wants from us?” Tsubaki asks the group.

Kid nods approvingly, happy that she came to the same conclusion. She’s more clever than most give her credit for, given her quiet nature.

Liz arches a brow. “Doesn’t Index just show up when it wants to, to whisk us away?”

Kid itches at the thought of just waiting. Anything could be happening to Black Star at this very moment, and they were just going to stand around? What if he was hurt? What if something worse was happening to him? Did anyone else even care about Black Star? Or were they just ready to finally leave the book? The more he spirals the more he feels the distance between him and the others growing.

Kid almost doesn’t notice when the wooden plank in front of him disappears. He snaps back into focus, stumbling forward and catching himself on the other side of the gap.

“Hey! I think something is happening—”

The girls are gone.

Kid turns around. Surely he didn’t pass them just now? But they’re not there either.

In fact, when Kid turns around to face forward, the planks in the distance all begin to fall away. One by one, more and more, like dominos, dropping from their fastenings and getting closer and closer to Kid with every second.

“Liz? Patti? Tsubaki? What’s going on?” Kid cries, backing up as fast as he can. But the wooden planks are falling away faster than he can move, and without Beelzebub he has no way to fly. The final board beneath his feet falls away, and Kid feels a moment of weightlessness before plunging into the abyss below.

The falling only lasts a moment.

The same sensation from travelling to a new Chapter swallows Kid up. Like air being punched from lungs. Like paper grazing skin. And within seconds, Kid is standing in an entirely new Chapter of the Book of Eibon. He looks around curiously. They were on their way Greed, but Index wasn’t the one who guided him here. Could this be a different part of the book?

Kid looks above him, but the bridge is long gone, in favor of a vaulted ceiling, tall white columns, and an enormous circular stained-glass window that stops Kid short.

He’s never seen a window so marvelous before. The intricate design, the array of colors! The symmetry! It’s so breathtaking, Kid is completely captivated by it. He approaches it reverently, ready to bask in its symmetrical brilliance indefinitely, when a wounded moan from beneath it snaps him out of it.

There doesn’t appear to be any light here other than the rays streaming through the stained glass, meaning the figure hanging from chains before him is just a silhouette against the colorful light behind him.

But Kid would know that silhouette anywhere. It was the last thing Kid saw, in fact, before he disappeared all those months ago.

Black Star.

Kid’s heart skips a beat. The pain of not knowing Black Star’s condition for the past two months pales in comparison to seeing him now, because it’s so much worse than he imagined.

Hanging limply from a pair of heavy iron-clad shackles, Black Star looks like he’s barely clinging to life. Loose bandages swirl around his neck and legs, having fallen away ages ago, leaving his wounds exposed. His skin is adorned with cuts and bruises, one eye swollen almost completely shut. His right hand doesn’t look broken, it looks mangled, the fingers twisted at odd angles, knuckles swollen and dark.

It takes everything in him to not scream his name. Kid has no idea where Black Star’s captors may be, especially with the rules of this Book being so fickle. The last thing he wants to do is draw attention to himself.

But there doesn’t appear to be anyone else around. Black Star stands alone, bandaged feet just barely grazing the ground as he hangs there.

Kid can hardly bare it. Tossing aside caution, Kid sprints to Black Star.

“Black Star?”

He doesn’t stir. Hanging there limply in the multi-colored light, the shadows distorting his face, he looks like a corpse. A captive long-forgotten, left to rot in his confines.

It’s at that moment Kid finally notices what feels so wrong. Black Star’s soul. He still can’t feel it.

Panic ignites in Kid’s chest, heart beating in triple time. He can’t be, he can’t be—

No, Kid reminds himself as he skids to a halt at Black Star’s side. He heard a noise earlier. The only person in this room is Black Star.

That doesn’t stop Kid’s hand from trembling as he reaches towards him. He’s not even sure where he can touch him without hurting him more. Kid settles for gently tipping Black Star’s chin upwards, bringing his face into the light.

Kid’s eyes flutter close for a moment. His skin is still warm.

Gathering up his nerves, Kid cradles Black Star’s head gently.

“Black Star, can you hear me?”

It takes a while, far too long if Kid has anything to say about it, but Black Star cracks open his one good eye, blinking it a few times before his vision comes into focus.

“Kid?”

His heart pounds loudly in his chest in relief. “Yes,” he breathes, “Black Star, it’s me. We’re here to rescue you.”

“Here,” Kid says, digging through the pack all the Spartoi members were required to bring with them on the mission. It’s a survival pack, filled with a first aid kit, food, and other essentials that could keep them alive depending on how long they were going to be inside the Book. Kid has used none of his supplies, intent on saving it all for the person who really needed them.

Kid pulls out a roll of bandages and some pain medication. He knocks a couple pills into his palm. Then he looks to Black Star’s broken frame and tips out a few more.

“Don’t bother,” Black Star says. His voice is rough. Kid can’t tell if it’s from lack of use or from using it too much. He tries not think about it too hard. Black Star clears his throat. “Wounds don’t really heal here, so there’s no point.”

Maybe it’s the roughness of his voice, but something about the way he’s speaking sounds so foreign to Kid, it’s almost like he’s talking to another person altogether. He eyes Black Star’s injuries again. If what Black Star is saying is true, it means that the injuries currently dripping blood into a small pool beneath him might not even be current. Some of these could have been from his fight with Mifune.

It does something horrible to his heart, to think that Black Star has been in pain for that long. He looks at the supplies before him. The gauze and bandages won’t do much good right now, but he can still try to help the pain subside.

“I don’t care,” Kid says, swallowing the lump in his throat. He brings the palm of pills to Black Star’s mouth, cupping his hand right in front of him until Black Star relents. He accepts the pills and allows Kid to hold a water bottle to his lips to flush them down. Black Star drinks greedily. Kid can’t help but wonder about the last time Black Star had something to drink.

“Now,” Kid says, looking around the large, bare room. Or, at least, he assumes it’s large. The Book only shows you what you need to see, so the farther he looks in the distance, the more the ink fades to cross-hatching nothingness. “Where are the people that took you?”

“Dunno,” Black Star says, eyes on the floor. He’s barely looked at Kid the whole time he’s been here, now that Kid thinks about it. “They stopped coming.”

Maybe that’s a good thing. It means Kid might have more time to liberate Black Star from his shackles. Maybe he can get him out before his captors even know Kid was here.

But they way Black Star said it…

How long has he been alone?

Kid shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll be out of here quickly enough,” Kid says, though he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince: himself or Black Star.

But if Kid thought that the hard part was finding Black Star, he neglected to think about how difficult freeing him would be. Why didn’t it occur to him that the force that was keeping Black Star imprisoned would have to be stronger than Black Star himself?

He eyes the cuffs skeptically. There has to be something about them that’s keeping Black Star detained.

He reaches for one of the cuffs to get a better look. Black Star flinches violently. “Don’t—"

The second Kid’s fingers graze the iron shackles a shock runs through his whole body, frying all his nerves.

Kid cries out before he can stop himself, wrenching his hand away and panting.

“What the hell was that?” Kid asks.

Black Star is panting just as hard. Kid realizes through the haze of pain that he didn’t just shock himself.

“Yeah, those do that. Magic or s’mthin’, I dunno,” Black Star says around gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry,” Kid says quickly, sick with the thought of putting Black Star through more pain. “I won’t do it again.”

His skin tingles from the pain, even after the shock itself has ended. There’s something almost familiar about it, somehow, but Kid can’t quite place it. He can’t focus too long on it, though. He has to find a different way to help Black Star without touching the cuffs.

He looks around the parts of the room he can see. “Is there a key, perhaps?”

“I’ve never seen one if there was,” Black Star says dejectedly, still looking down.

“Maybe if I just look around—”

“Kid,” Black Star says emphatically. It’s the most passion he’s put in his voice the whole time Kid’s been here.

Kid freezes. When Black Star’s face rises to look at his, Kid sees an unrecognizable expression on his face.

“There’s no fucking key, okay?” Black Star says. “There’s no key or magic password or hidden tool that will open these up. You can’t get them off. I’m stuck here.”

Kid blinks.

Black Star curls his lip at Kid’s bewildered expression. “You shouldn’t have come. If Noah finds you, he’ll kill you. Or worse, he’ll lock you up in one of these,” he wriggles a bit, so the shackles binding his wrists jangle together loudly. He shouldn’t have bothered with the demonstration; it just causes his face to twist up in pain. “And then you’ll be stuck here too. Just go.”

Something curdles in Kid’s gut. That’s what’s so unfamiliar here.

Black Star has given up.

“I’m not leaving you here, Black Star,” Kid says sternly, hoping to cover up any other unsavory emotions bubbling up. “I came here to retrieve you and that’s what I intend to do.” Retrieve. That makes it sound so clinical. Rescue. Repent? The semantics don’t matter.

“So you say,” Black Star mutters.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Black Star doesn’t respond. “Black Star?”

Black Star shifts a little, causing his mangled hand to twitch a tiny bit. His whole face crumbles in pain. Kid reaches out a hand—to do what, he’s not sure. To help, to soothe, to make things better.

But Black Star flinches. Kid’s hand stops.

He’s been doing his best to force his thoughts away from what Black Star’s been through while he’s been trapped here. To avoid thinking about the way those people hurt him. The physical injuries are plain to see, but it’s clear his wounds are deeper than that. Kid can’t stand it any longer.

“I’m sorry.”

Black Star opens his eyes. “What?”

He can’t hold it back anymore. The guilt that’s been clawing at his chest for the entire time Black Star has been gone is now threatening to swallow him whole. He looks at Black Star’s broken body miserably. Human bodies are so fragile.

“It should have been me.”

It’s the thing he’s been wanting to say this whole time. Tsubaki knew it. Kid knew it. Black Star surely knew it. Those cuffs were made for him. Black Star is feeling this hopeless because of him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Black Star asks, all the bitterness gone from his voice, replaced by pure confusion.

“Don’t play dumb,” Kid says. Now he sounds like the bitter one. Except his voice is sounding thick, his throat tightening with emotion. “You’re not who they meant to capture.”

“So?”

“So, this is all my fault!”

“Wait, this?” Black Star looks down at himself, indirectly pointing out his injuries. “Or this?” He wriggles his shoulders, jangling the heavy chains attached to his cuffs.

Kid can hardly bear to look at it. “Either. Both. All of it.”

“You’re so stupid,” Black Star says. Somehow, it’s this statement that makes him sound the most like himself. Or, himself before.

But his eye. His hand. The cuts ribboning his arms and torso. He’s never looked more human to Kid. More fragile.

“You can’t beat yourself up about things you literally didn’t do to me, idiot.” Black Star says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If you want to apologize for curb stomping me in the academy courtyard, I’ll accept that.”

That’s so unexpected, Kid finds himself actually snorting. He shouldn’t, he genuinely needs to apologize for that, but somehow he finds his lips curling up instead.

“There,” Black Star says. “Got you smiling. No one should be frowning when looking at the great Black Star.”

It does make Kid feel marginally better. Which is ultimately still frustrating, that the boy dangling in the center of the room in chains is the one doing the comforting. Some rescuer Kid is.

Because, despite everything, Kid still seeks Black Star for comfort. He wants to reach out to him, to feel his warmth and be reminded of those feelings, but refrains. He still remembers that flinch.

He sobers himself. “We’re wasting time. I need to get you out of here.”

It sobers Black Star too. Kid doesn’t even think he realizes it, but every mention of escape has him shrinking into himself.

“Well, like I said. There’s no key,” Black Star says, trying to retain the same cadence to his voice as before, and failing.

Kid steps into Black Star’s space carefully. Black Star’s eyes meet his nervously. “I won’t touch them, I promise.”

He circles Black Star slowly, looking at the cuffs. There’s no keyhole. There doesn’t even appear to be a hinge or a seam. The cuffs circle Black Star’s brutal-looking wrists completely, one continuous iron circle. It must be the magic in them, like Black Star said. Kid could try to wrench them apart, but he doesn’t think he can do that without hurting Black Star, or without causing that horrible shocking. He twists the rings on his fingers idly as he wracks his brain for a solution, and jumps back suddenly when a visible bolt of electricity zips from the cuffs, shaking Black Star.

“Fuck,” Black Star cries out.

Kid panics. “I swear, I didn’t touch—”

“I know you didn’t,” Black Star rasps. He huffs out a few shallow breaths. “That’s not what causes it, usually.”

Kid pauses. “It isn’t?”

“I don’t know what causes the shocks. They just kind of happen at random.”

Kid turns this over in his head. That sort of magic doesn’t sound like Noah’s style. Based on how battered Black Star is, Kid assumed the man was seriously sadistic. Programming the shackles to zap at random doesn’t seem cruel enough. Not from a person who would who kept Black Star strung up here for months, purely to test them.

“Can you think of any of the times went off, specifically?”

Black Star looks like he wants to reply with something snarky, but he sees the expression on Kid’s face and stops himself. Kid might be on to something.

Black Star takes a moment to really think.

“When I was mad, mostly.” Black Star says, discovering a pattern. “When Gopher would say something to piss me off, I’d get zapped.”

“Maybe that means—”

“Well, no. That wasn’t the only time. Sometimes when I was by myself, I’d get shocked too. When I was—"Black Star stops short, like he doesn’t want to say it. There’s something about how he looks right now. A vulnerability that reminds Kid of just how young Black Star is. “When I’d be trying to escape. They’d shock me whenever things started looking up.”

Kid wishes he could feel Black Star’s wavelength right now. It would help him decipher what the pinched-up expression on Black Star’s face could mean. Shame, maybe? It’s been so long since he’s been able to decode Black Star. Has he forgotten how?

Wait, Kid thinks. He freezes so suddenly even Black Star flinches a bit from it.

“Black Star,” he says seriously. “What were you thinking just now, when the cuffs electrocuted you?”

Black Star’s eyebrows raise. Is he nervous? Kid realizes he can’t tell. Black Star is standing right in front of him, alive as can be, but he still can’t sense his wavelength.

“Nothing,” Black Star says, but it comes out so defensively, Kid is positive he’s lying.

Kid doesn’t care what the reasoning was, not really. He’s caught up in the thrill of almost having an answer. “Shift your wrists for me, please? I need to be able to see the inside of the shackles.”

Black Star grumbles something unintelligible. Kid only hears something that sounds like “no damn sense…” But he pulls his wrists apart as best has he can manage, so the insides of his wrists aren’t flush with the metal of the cuffs. Kid looks at them closely, watching little shimmers of colorful light bounce off the smooth inner edge.

“Black Star, it’s a mirror.”

“Huh?”

“The magic from the cuffs. It doesn’t send of off a signal to shock you at random intervals, it’s reflecting your wavelength.” Kid is so pleased with this discovery, he can hardly sit still. “That’s why I can’t feel you with my Soul Perception.”

Black Star looks completely lost.

“Look,” Kid says, trying to keep his voice even. “You know how when a witch uses Soul Protect, it prevents her from projecting her magical wavelength out past her body?” Black Star nods. Thank God some of their studying stuck. “The cuffs work the same way. Every time your soul wavelength spikes, the cuffs reflect it back at you in the form of electricity. It’s a mirror.”

Understanding begins to bloom on Black Star’s face. He looks up at the offending restraints, straining his neck backwards to stare at them.

“So you’re telling me, I’ve been holding myself captive this hold time? I’m hurting me?”

Kid nods emphatically, so pleased with himself for solving the mystery that he doesn’t immediately notice that Black Star isn’t sharing in his excitement.

Black Star lets out a single, hollow laugh.

Kid’s happiness simmers down. “Black Star?”

But Black Star just shakes himself a little. “No, that makes sense.” He clears his throat. “So how does that help me get out? I can’t exactly turn off my soul wavelength.”

Another idea pops into Kid’s mind. “We don’t have to turn it off, per se. We just have to neutralize it.” He steps closer to Black Star, craning his neck to look at the chains. “You know how Professor Stein would fight? How he’d appraise someone’s wavelength and adjust his so it was the opposite of his opponent’s?” He meets Black Star’s eyes. “If we use that method, we could cancel out your wavelength so it doesn’t hurt you. Then all we’d have to do is shatter the cuffs.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Black Star says, but something about his expression isn’t right. Just moments ago, Black Star told Kid the electricity would spike whenever he felt close to an escape, but right now Black Star’s wavelength doesn’t appear to be giving the cuffs any juice.

“What’s wrong?” Kid asks.

Black Star shakes his head sullenly and tries to perk up. “Not important. Let’s just spring me, okay? I’m sick of hanging here.”

Kid wants to press him, but Black Star is right. He shouldn’t force Black Star to hang here in pain longer than necessary. They’ll have time to talk after all this is over.

He takes another half-step towards Black Star, minimizing the space between them. Nervousness possesses him suddenly.

“This would be easier with our weapon partners here,” Kid says quietly. Weapons were conduits for meisters’ souls, after all. Resonating with Black Star without Tsubaki or the Thompsons here might be tricky. Doubt creeps in even more. What if he hurts Black Star? “I’ve never done this technique before. It might not be as easy as Stein makes it look—”

“Kid,” Black Star interrupts. He meets Kid’s eyes. “You’re good. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

Kid tries not to look taken aback but such Black Star’s insistent vote of confidence.

He clears his throat. “Okay. I’m going to need you to activate the cuffs. I need a bit your wavelength to resonate with.”

Black Star nods gravely.

Kid slips out of his jacket, then holds it in front of them and rips off one of the sleeves. He holds it in front of Black Star’s face. “Here, this might help.”

Black Star understands easily, opening his mouth and biting down on the sleeve.

Kid breathes out slowly. Black Star mirrors him, exhaling loudly through his nose.

Kid hovers close to Black Star once more. “Okay,” he says gently. “Whenever you’re ready.”

It takes Black Star a few more beats, closing his eyes. It takes incredibly courage, Kid thinks, to actively hurt yourself like this. He gives Black Star as long as he needs.

At last, Black Star opens his eyes, determination blazing behind them. Then, he activates his Soul Force.

The electricity ripples through him. Kid closes his eyes, blocking out Black Star’s pained sounds as he screams through gritted teeth, and zeroes in on his wavelength.

The symmetry of this project would have pleased him if this could have involved anything else but hurting Black Star intentionally. Changing his soul wavelength to reflect Black Star’s is the ultimate act of symmetry. He changes the shape of his soul like crafting a key to a lock. For every spike, Kid becomes a valley. For every over-powered attack in Black Star’s soul, Kid is a graceful block. For every ounce of boundless confidence, Kid projects subtle humility. For every loud, joyous laugh, Kid is restraint.

Kid opens his eyes and steps back.

Black Star stops shocking himself, spitting out the jacket sleeve and panting heavily.

“Did it—” his voice breaks. He swallows and starts over. “Did it work?”

It would have. Kid could tell. If he had continued picking apart Black Star’s soul and molding his own soul to be equal and opposite, he’d have neutralized Black Star’s wavelength.

But he can’t do it.

“No.”

Black Star’s expression is shattered. “No?”

Kid shakes his head. “I can’t do this.”

Black Star starts to tremble, hard. “What do you mean? I’m gonna be stuck here? I thought it was working!” His eyes blaze with panic. “You’re Death the Kid, you can do anything. You can’t tell me you can’t do it. I can’t—” His breath hitches high.

Kid’s heart is breaking. He reaches forward, damning the cuffs, damning Noah, damning Black Star himself for making Black Star feel this way. His hands cup Black Star’s face, before he can fall deeper into a spiral.

“Black Star, we will get you out of here,” he assures steadily. “But it won’t be me freeing you.”

Black Star falters. “You--?”

“You’re going to do it.”

Kid can’t free Black Star this way. Doing so would mean that the key to freeing Black Star from himself is to be everything he’s not. A wavelength that’s mild-mannered. Agreeable. Quiet. Small.

During his captivity, Black Star had been conditioned to believe that every trait that was fundamentally him would get him hurt. Kid can’t stand to think that that’s the key to his freedom as well.

“Kid, I can’t. I—I’m too—”

“Weak?”

Black Star’s mouth snaps shut. He doesn’t answer.

That’s what Kid was afraid of. Kid damns himself most of all.

“Black Star, you could not be further from weak.”

But he can tell that Black Star doesn’t believe him. After months of being alone, stewing on the most hurtful thing Kid has ever said to him, while unable to free himself from his captivity, it’s no wonder Black Star believes it wholeheartedly.

Kid can’t stand it.

“You wanna know the reason why you’re here right now?” Kid says, almost angrily.

Black Star looks taken aback by Kid’s sudden change in attitude.

“You’re here because you made the choice to jump between me and someone who could have killed me with one touch. With no idea what the outcome would be, you sacrificed yourself. There’s nothing weak about that.”

“You’re spinning it to be better than it was,” Black Star insists.

“No. I’m not,” Kid says. “Because that’s how you always are. Fighting for the sake of others. Protecting people.” He swallows. “Protecting me.”

“Kid—”

“You’ve been stuck here this long because your heart is too big, Black Star. Your soul is too powerful to be contained. They weren’t preying on your weakness when they put these shackles on you.” He squeezes Black Star’s face, putting everything he has into the next statement so Black Star will fucking understand. “They were using your strength against you.”

Black Star opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. The wounded expression he’s been wearing has transformed into bewilderment. Kid hopes that means he’s coming around.

“So, no, I will not be neutralizing your wavelength. The great and powerful Black Star that I know would never let himself be dimmed like that,” he says with conviction.

Black Star finds his voice, quiet though it may be. “I am a big star, after all.”

Kid’s soul warms at the sound of it.

He beams back at Black Star.

“The biggest.”

It’s different this time. They both know it will hurt, but instead of fear, both Kid and Black Star are looking at each other with certainty.

Kid’s places a hand on Black Star’s chest, warm and solid, right over his heart.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Black Star assures once more, though Kid knows it’s only a formality. “You don’t have to feel it, too.”

Kid rolls his eyes. “Now who’s being stupid?”

The edges of Black Star’s mouth curl up, just a little.

Kid breathes in deeply, centering himself. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Black Star nods. It takes less time than before, for Black Star to rev up his soul wavelength. The electric current rushes through both of them now, and it hits Kid again just how awful these past few months must have been for Black Star. Electricity rips up and down Kid’s spine, but he grits his teeth and focuses on his job.

His soul grabs onto Black Star’s wavelength, same as before, but this time Kid doesn’t work on countering it, he focuses on supporting it.

His eyes are closed, but Kid can tell without looking how hard Black Star is concentrating, because he can feel it. Despite their lack of weapon partners, Kid and Black Star’s connection remains steady and strong. He can feel how hard Black Star is pushing his wavelength outwards, harder than he’s tried to the entire time he’s been trapped here.

Kid grits his teeth through the hot stabs of pain and simply believes. Believes in Black Star, who’s never given up on anything in his life. The Black Star who’s all obnoxious laughs and cocky grins. The Black Star who shouts to the whole world that he’s the best, and then strives every moment of every day to prove it.

Every time the electricity lets up, the pain starts to fade, Kid’s soul pushes up against Black Star’s insistently, urgently reminding him that giving up is not his nature, and he won’t let it start now.

“C’mon,” Kid says, through gritted teeth. He leans forward, knocking his forehead into Black Star’s. “You can do this. If anyone can, it’s you.”

The pain gets worse, fire blazing all of Kid’s cells. One of them is shaking, or maybe both of them are, and Black Star lets out a roar—

Come on, Black Star. Kid prays. He’s so close. Come on come on come on—

The shaking gets stronger, and Kid knows now that it’s not coming from him. He cracks open one eye, peering above them, where Black Star’s wrists are straining and straining—

Kid shoots all the encouragement he can through his wavelength, hoping it reaches him, hoping he knows—

“YAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!”

Quick as a heart attack, the shackles snap, the heavy metal separating and crashing to the ground.

Black Star and Kid come crashing down too. Kid can hardly think through the pain, but instinctually his arms wrap around Black Star and twists, so Kid absorbs most of the impact as they land on the checkered tile in a heap.

Neither of them can speak right away. Black Star lays on Kid’s chest, breathing heavily. They’re both probably fried to hell, but Kid can’t even focus on that. His whole body feels lighter than air. He’s never been so happy to hear one of Black Star’s obnoxious “yahoo”s before.

He sits up after a while, knowing full well that Black Star is in no condition to be supporting himself right now. Thankfully, Kid is always here to help with that.

He props himself up on his elbows, looking down at the length of his body, where Black Star is still covering most of him. Through all the blood and bruises—and looking more than a little fried around the edges—Black Star is smiling brilliantly.

And his wavelength. Kid can finally sense it again. He didn’t know he could miss the feeling of someone’s soul as much as this. He never wants to part from it again.

When Black Star starts to laugh, Kid can’t help but laugh with him.

“We did it,” Black Star says giddily.

Kid shakes his head. “You did it. I knew you could.”

Black Star shuffles a bit, struggling to pull himself up into a sitting position. He tries to move his arms and just ends up wincing. Kid helps, sitting up the rest of the way and pulling Black Star up with him.

Black Star leans on Kid heavily. Kid bares the weight of him easily; he’ll never do anything to push him away again.

“Kid?” Black Star asks.

Kid turns to look at him. “Hm?”

And Black Star kisses him.

It’s short and sweet, over before Kid can even respond, but when Black Star pulls away, Kid’s mouth remembers the warmth of it.

“Thank you,” he says simply.

Kid blinks owlishly. He can feel it. He wants to revel in it, he really does, but he needs to know. “Was that—is that just a thank you kiss?” He feels stupid to even ask, but he can’t misinterpret this again. “Or was it…?”

It’s not encouraging that Black Star has to think about it for a moment.

“That can be a thank you kiss, sure,” Black Star says thoughtfully.

Kid tries not to deflate. He’s so busy schooling his expression he isn’t prepared for when Black Star ducks in and brushes his lips to Kid’s again. He leans back to look Kid in the eyes. “And that was an ‘I’m sorry’ kiss.”

When he leans in a third time, Kid is ready for it. He captures Black Star’s mouth with his, making sure he kisses back with equal fervor.

Black Star pulls back, looking dazed and happy.

“And that one is just because I wanted to,” Black Star says contently.

Kid’s heart is a bird, soaring through blue skies.

Part of him never wants to leave this moment. Sitting in this magic prison, his pantleg soaked through from the puddle of blood they’re sitting in, with Black Star warm in his arms, kissing him just because he wants to. They’ll leave soon, and find help, and finally get out of this stupid Book once and for all. But for a moment Kid wants just this.

He twists the ring on his right index finger, then the one on his left. Black Star watches the action, his soul overflowing with affection.

“What?” Kid asks.

“I love it, when you do that,” he says like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You always make sure to twist both.”

It makes Kid flush, to think about someone would be paying attention to the little things he does like that. Though, he did just spend the last couple minutes beaming into Black Star’s soul all the little things he loves about him. Maybe love goes both ways like that.

Symmetrical, Kid thinks.

He doesn’t say it though. He doesn’t need to.

#chibiverb 2024 #reverb 2024 #death the kid #black star #deathstar #kidstar #soul eater #soul eater manga #my writing #se fic

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six-eyed-samurai · 4 months ago

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I was finally able to think of a request lol :D

I was wondering if i could get a Gyutaro x reader (female or gender neutral, whichever works best for you :3) who is in a depressive episode and just really burnt out, like barely getting out of bed, not really taking care of themselves unless specifically made to, and how he would react to that considering he’s used to them being pretty outgoing and happy and always doing things.

i’m just needing the comfort right now and who better to do it then probably one of the most protective demons in the series.

have a nice day/night :3

SUMMARY: Gyutaro isn't the best at understanding emotions but he'll try...even if he fails. A/N: I got what you feel, my sueto poteo begurl! Sorry this took so long, I was busy and Tumblr deleted my first draft T_T WARNINGS: Cannibalism because demons, fem reader, depression My inbox is still open if you would like to request for the event!

Humans are weird.

Of course that was only from Gyutaro’s perspective, seeing as he was a demon and didn't feel the same way humans did about problems or emotions. It made it a little hard to understand why people would get so worked up over problems because as a demon you could solve all of them (they didn't have much honestly) by killing or have everyone cower in fear of you.

Then again as a human, he had solved most of his problems that way as well, so it can be confirmed that Gyutaro was not very good at understanding emotions.

But you were a demon and that was weirder.

For one you were quite upbeat all the time, always smiling brightly no matted what. For another everyone loved you, although it might be because the dumbasses had no idea as to what you truly are.

Third was that while demons didn't need sleep you'd been doing a lot of it lately. That was weird even for you, someone not strong enough to be a demon of importance but not so weak as to be one of those filthy humans.

Come to think of it you weren't just sleeping a lot. He'd barely seen you around but Gyutaro had assumed that was because he had been out a lot of nights hunting, until he realized watching through Daki’s mind that you barely left your room and rarely did anything anymore. If you did it was only because the mistress was bugging you or you were specifically requested. And when you spoke it was a dull monotone of absolute obedience.

You used to be such a pretty little bird! A canary that delighted everyone, especially himself, with your lilting voice and sweet words. Then you became some peculiar nocturnal creature and Gyutaro found that he did not quite like all ugly, dirty things in the dust after all.

But it'd be a lie to say Gyutaro had noticed the change in your behaviour the last few days. No, it had been Daki, something he was ashamed to admit. She had remarked upon your disappearance and had just about thrown him out of the room when he said he didn't notice anything, huffing that you probably were going to think he no longer wanted you.

Idiot, Gyutaro cursed himself, and suddenly was reminded of the first night at the beginning when crush became confession.

“You're mine,” he'd hissed, and tucked away in his protective hold you had laughed lightly and agreed if he'd be yours in exchange.

You were his and Gyutaro took care of his most precious things. VERY good care of his things.

***

It's been a while since he entered your room.

Gyutaro hunkered down beside you, curious and confused. Your blankets were strewn all over the place and your head was buried under a mound of pillows; it was obvious that you hadn't moved in hours. A skeletal hand hovered above your shoulder, unsure if he should awaken you…or if you are even sleeping. You looked rather unhappy even relaxed.

“Gyutaro.” Your eyes cracked open, his name a statement rather than a question, but there was some surprise in your tone nevertheless.

Gyutaro did not like the look of you, for you looked dead but not in complexion - rather the dimness of the life spark that he had enjoyed watching snuffed out when he killed. He grunted in reply, eyeing you suspiciously. “I haven't seen you in a while.”

“I suppose you haven't.” Your shoulders sagged. “I'm sorry, I'm kind of tired tonight. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Tired?” Gyutaro recoiled sharply, hurt and a little mad. “You…don't want to see me?”

“No. I just meant tomorrow.” You struggled to muster a smile but he snarled at no one in particular, nails gouging into the wooden floor, before he was gone in a flash.

Clearly something must be bothering you, Gyutaro reasoned to himself as he made his way back to Daki’s room. Something that must be affecting your energy and mood. You couldn't possibly be fed up with him, were you?

No, you promised!

There must be something else, something else the cause of your problems. Whatever it was Gyutaro would get rid of it, preferably painfully, but first he would have to watch you keenly.

It wasn't spying, not technically, when he was only trying to look out for you and after a few days Gyutaro finally came up with an answer. For whatever reason you hadn't left the house to hunt and so you must be starved of a good meal, he concluded. People loved you, thinking you were just an ordinary human, so perhaps the mistress was adding more to your workload or you couldn’t say no to accompanying one of the girls during the night. Easy, he could remedy that! Especially when he found the two guys who had disrespected you oh so badly not too long ago.

He lugged the two corpses back to your room, getting through the window quite effortlessly. You were awake this time, he was happy to find, and picking at the knots in your hair in front of your vanity, your brush lying forgotten on the ground.

You frowned, though. Not what he was expecting. “What…is that?”

“For you….to eat.” Gyutaro scrunched up his eyebrows, baffled when you made no move towards it. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Your shoulders sagged again. Uncertainly your hand reached out and patted his hair briefly before withdrawing. “…I already ate, Gyutaro, and it’s not hunger that’s bothering me.”

“…it’s me, isn’t it? Do - have you found someone else?” Gyutaro began to panic and rage. “I’ll kill him! Who is he? Is he handsome? NEEEH! I’ll do better, I swear, I’m sorry I’m so ugly-”

“No! Not like that!” Your hands shot out again to assure him, but it only lasted a few moments. “I’m just…tired. I’ll be alright in a few days but I don’t really have the energy to see people right now.”

“You…don’t want to see me?”

“No, that’s not what I-”

Gyutaro’s nails gouged into his cheeks this time as he disappeared out of your room, disappointed.

***

Daki didn’t want the humans either.

“EW! BROTHER, WHY WOULD YOU BRING BACK SUCH UGLY PEOPLE! I’M NOT GOING TO EAT THEM! THEY’RE JUST GONNA TAKE UP SPACE IN MY OBI AS WELL!” Daki would’ve kicked them away from her if her dress hadn’t hampered her movements. Gyutaro growled under his breath but began to eat them himself. “Why don’t you give them to (y/n) ? She usually eats ugly things like these.”

“Shut up already!”

“Hey, I saw you coming out of her room just now, did you-”

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

“Someone’s touchy,” Daki sighed, rolling her eyes. “Did she reject them?”

Rejected me, more like, Gyutaro grumbled to himself. He looked up from his meal, considering things. Daki was a girl and your friend (sort of), perhaps she’d know what was wrong with you. “She’s been weird lately. Doesn’t eat much and shit. Why?”

“You gotta finish your story first!”

“I dunno alright! She just spends her time either in bed or asleep, doesn’t do anything unless you ask her, doesn’t even wanna see or talk to me since a few days ago!” Gyutaro threw a bone across the room in frustration. “It’s like she’s kinda unhappy. Did something happen?”

“Kinda unhappy? Now that I think of it she got assigned to the new oiran a few days ago and she treats the girls worse than I do honestly.” Daki suddenly sat up straighter. She’d finish doing her lipstick and now she looked ready to chuck it at her brother. “Did you not notice? Oh my god, you’re so dense! She’s unhappy and you didn’t do a thing about it!”

“WHAT?!”

She did throw it at him. “Go comfort your precious girl in her depressive episode, you stupid dumbass! Honestly, I’m a demon and even I understand emotions better than you.”

***

It seemed like no matter how nice you try to be some girl’s always laughing at you behind her fan and due to the shortage of girls in the house (you suspected to be caused by Daki, but you had your fair share as well) the mistress had been pressuring you to work harder for the new oiran and nothing was to her satisfaction.

Every minor accident magnified tenfold and every day it felt like you were on the verge of tears or…actually, absolute numbness. You didn’t want to care anymore, so despite not needing it anymore you started spending more of your time asleep than awake, eating the minimum to live. Why did you live anyway? Probably because you were too afraid of what happened after.

And you still wanted to hang around to be with Gyutaro…even if he hurt you with his apparent indifference to your current situation.

Everybody was indifferent, in fact. The truth was nobody cared. Nobody was going to come into your room and ask if you were alright, for everyone was too caught up in their problems.

Well, except for whoever’s hand it was that suddenly grabbed you.

Your eyes shot open at once and you grabbed on tightly to the familiar person now carrying your oddly gently, bridal-style, out of your bedroom via the window and climbing upwards agilely. A very familiar someone with a skeletal body frame, an untidy mop of green hair and grey, spotted skin.

“Gyutaro?!” Your voice should’ve been hoarse from the lack of use and water but instead the yelp came out louder and clearer than intended. “What are you doing?!”

He didn’t answer, only set you down on top of the rooftop carefully and settled down next to you awkwardly, scratching away at his neck and arm. Gyutaro nodded upwards. “Just watch.”

And the sky exploded into millions of colors.

“…a fireworks show?” It’s been a while since you’ve smiled, but the way your mouth hung open and widened at the same time couldn’t be helped as you gazed at the vibrant sparks shooting up. Your hand, out of habit, inched closer to his and intertwined fingers. You were startled when he yanked you against him, almost in a cuddling position, but pleased.

“Daki told me. Thought I’d take you to see it since you won’t leave your room otherwise.” Gyutaro seemed to be steeling himself for something, scratching harder. “…you can tell me if you have problems, y’know? I won’t get it but Daki’s a girl and I’ll…try.”

It’s been a while since you actually broke down, let a few tears fall and have someone tuck you closer to hold and comfort while you poured your heart out like a flood after the dam breaks down. It felt good. Gyutaro listened and he was good at it, not punctuating it with blunt “I could go kill thems” or turning away stiffly saying he didn’t understand you and your emotions like he used to, like you thought he would. Occasionally he’d squeeze your hand tight when one particularly loud and beautiful firework went off.

It was…he really knew how to make things better, huh?

“Thanks…” You pressed your head into the bony crook of his neck. “For this. Feel free to kidnap me anytime for a fireworks show, I guess.”

“I’ll take you to a better one next time. And I didn’t kidnap you!”

Ah, that laugh. How he missed hearing it, even over the boom of the sparklers.

The pretty little bird was back and quite surprisingly Gyutaro discovered he could still feel after all: relief and…affection for you.

#Sunny's Works #Sunny's 200+ Followers Events #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyutaro x you #gyutaro shabana x reader #gyutaro shabana x y/n #gyutaro shabana x you #kny x reader

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originalwinnercheesecake · 5 months ago

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Guess's on How Sasappis died.

Sasappis is the last ghost for us to learn his death. Sass is very private (undead) person, and we have been given no real/clear hints to his death. His ghost power (To enter into the dreams of the livings) could easily correlate to him being a story teller, and not necisarly "He died in his sleep, after catching a sever fever, that also caused him to have very strange dreams. Note I do not believe that Sass died of a fever. They would have incorporated some sign of it into his character. He would be more tired, feel more cold, possibly have a "unexplainable sweating problem". He also does not have any vibsiable gaping wounds, like Pete, Flower, or Stephanie, so that rules out death by attacker. So the question is how did Sass die

Now he could have died of some kind of sickness, but I do not think it is very likely. For one thing he is implied to have had a sudden death, just days before an important tribal ceremony he was planning/supposed to take part in. Correct me if I am wrong, but wouldn't most sickness take a period of weeks, months, years to do him in. A second thing again he isn't really sickly in the the show. All the cholera ghosts are flushed and still hacking. Issac will sneeze and mention stomach pains. But Sass seems fine, so if he has any kind of sickness then he has been masking it for 500 years. That is really sad.

He also could have could died if he went walk in the woods one night and fell from a cliff or out of a tree... but if that happened well that is kinda anti-climactic for how long we had to wait. I would rate that on the same scale as Thorfinn dying because he went walking with his helmet, through a storm and was struck by lightening. It is just a case of him not being as careful as he should have been. Not nearly an impressive follow up to Alberta or Hetty's more recently revealed deaths.... But you could make it more sad. Sass and his crush Shiki are implied to have died in the same year. Sass says that when they were alive, he was ghosted by Shiki after gifting a freshly killed deer to her family, as a jester of love. What if that was because Shiki actually went missing (i.e. died) shortly after, and Sass went out to search for her?

Another death I have considered was a food related one. A detail of Sass's character is is the most in love with food smells (the closest they can come to eating) of all the ghosts. He hangs out in the kitchen whenever Jay is cooking, consistently begs Sam and Jay to cook more of his favorite smelling food: pepperoni pizza, and I am honestly half expecting him to move into the barn once Jay's restaurant opens... What if Sass's love of food is actually a hint at his death? Maybe he had an allergy and accidentally ate something he was not supposed to? Or, maybe he had diabetes or some other dietary need, a crop or the meat from a particular animal, and Sass died when it was wiped out or disappeared. With so many people in the U.S. having dietary issues, and the countries known love of food, I could see the show choosing to write an episode on dietary importance, and the need for people from all walks of life to have access to healthy food.

My finale theory is one I have actually gotten off Tumblr, from the people who are fans of both the CBS and BBC series. Some people are suggesting Sass got bit by a poison snake or something and died from the poison venom. The puncture marks are small enough for Sass to be able to conceal with his clothing. Apparently something of the similar nature happened to BBC's Kitty? And I actually know a really good way to blend that into Sass's personality and a possible reason for why he became a ghost. Sass as mentioned loves stories and is a gifted story teller. But also as mentioned he is very private person who gets nervous about speaking in front of crowds. A week before the tribes festival Sass's father gave him an eagle's feather, which was believed to help bring confidence and courage. But what if Sass was still nervous/afraid afterwards. What as the days got closer got more more nervous/afraid, until he decided to do something reckless and stupid, to prove to himself that he could be brave. Something like walking through a more dangerous (poison animal infested) part of valley, telling himself "If I can brave this I will have no reason to be afraid of anything anymore". While that would not be the most exciting death, it would be very tragic, and it could set up "Overcoming the fears he had as a living", all of them, as Sass's unfinished business. Essentially, he would need to become a more rounded and confident person. Note that seems to also be Pete's unfinished business. Sass and Pete are roommates, and we have had at least a few really nice episodes exploring their relationship. It would be really cool if that continued to him and Pete having to teach themselves the same thing, but in different ways.

#american ghosts #sasappis #pete martino #Cbs ghosts Shiki #cbs ghosts season 4 #Cbs ghosts theories #cbs ghosts sas #ghosts Sass #Ghosts Shiki #Ghosts pete #CBS Ghosts #CBS Ghots Sass

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bronx-bomber87 · 12 days ago

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Hi!! I just spent the last hour scrolling through your page and I adore everything you have to say about tim and lucy…

So I was curious (because I’m a month into the fandom and I don’t really know anyone yet) what your thoughts, predictions, expectations for season 7 would be?

Sorry if you’ve posted something similar before, please point me in the right direction if you have :)

- Loren

Hi! @moderatelydelusional Nice to meet you, Loren. Thank you for the lovely ask :) Making me all red with your nice comment. So glad you liked everything I've had to say about our lovely ship. Appreciate it so much. Before I answer I want to say welcome to the fandom! We are glad to have you here. 😊 There are so many good blogs on tumblr for them. Glad you chose me as one of them. I am honored. ❤️ I haven't really tackled s7 at all so this is a good ask. Excited to answer it. I'm a detailed woman. So imma break your question down into sections if that's alright. I legit don't know how to be brief about this show or them haha Also will do it with gifs cause that's my thing. Here is my detailed answer below. Hope you enjoy it.

Thoughts on S7- Well we've had ZERO and I mean ZERO spoilers or indicators about this upcoming season. Which I do love them keeping it close to the vest. Honestly I do. Just means they have something incredibly good lined up. They just want to make sure we are surprised. Can't fault them for that. But I'm dying for anything. The end of s6 left us wanting so much more with the scene above. We are all chomping at the bit for any content. I know Eric had a interview couple weeks back about s7. From what little he was able to divulge I am EXCITED.

Here is the link to it. Talks about Tim needing to EARN Lucy back in more ways than one. How she is the love of his life. (Tell us something we don't know haha) But I love Eric referring to her to as such. The personal development for Tim to come as well. Like I said they haven't given us much of anything yet. It's hard to have thoughts when we don't have much to go on. But it seems like it'll be well rounded season. It's always been a character driven show so I think it'll be more than just our ship. Which is fine with me. It is an ensemble cast after all.

I fell in love with this show as a whole when it first launched back in 2018. Give me more Tim/Angela, Lucy/Nyla and Wopez. I'll take all of that. I have been all in from the Pilot. I remember watching it on my lunch break on my phone when it first premiered. I was hooked. When we finally get a promo and a friggin premiere date I can probably be more in depth with my answer. Since we don't have a lot to go on it's hard to have in depth thoughts ha But from what little they've let out I'm quite excited for the journey we're going to embark on. We just need a start date for said journey. All we know is Jan but I need a hard date LOL

Expectations For S7. -I expect Chenford to get back to the softness above. It won't be easy but I expect we are headed back there. I think it's gonna be quite the journey to get us there. Both Tim and Lucy are going to need to grow before we do. They both still have shit to work out. Lucy with her career path and the rough time she had last year. It wasn't just Tim that crushed her. I mean it was a huge headliner but wasn't the ONLY one. Our girl has some communication problems and is like her soulmate in how she handles emotional distress. Expect that to be addressed on some level.

Tim obviously has a lot to make up for and he knows it. That is the first step. I expect we see Tim working constantly to improve himself as a person. To be worthy of Lucy again. He's not going to half ass his healing. He is going to be very Tim in how he goes after it. This is going to bleed into every part of his life. I expect to see that all over his character development in s7.

I also anticipate that we'll see an even stronger and more refined version of Chenford in Season 7, with their characters continuing to grow and evolve. Strong separately and even more so together. I cannot wait for the slow burn of their reconciliation. Going to make all the hurt worth it. It'll be Chenford 2.0 and we are all going to be grateful for that. While losing our minds together it's happening. I would rather have our ship and characters be real and develop. Better that than to be puddle deep like John/Bailey. I'll take the pain of growth over the stagnation of boredom. i.e. Bailian.

Predictions-Obviously I want to predict something like above. Them starting over. Kisses, hugs, and if we're lucky enough to get a repeat of 5x12 on screen. That one I'm straight just trying to manifest lol Possibly Celina catching them or almost doing so when they get back together at her place. These are more hopeful than actual predictions lmao But I mainly predict a deeper intimacy between them when they do reconcile. Stronger communication. It'll be beautiful. I also think we're about to see a side of Tim Bradford we haven't seen before. As we know Lucy brings out the best in this man. The absolute best. We're going to see that on full display.

I think he will continue therapy. I also think we’re going to see a very determined Tim driven in his quest to make amends to Lucy. Which will bring out that new side we haven't seen. It's one of the facets of s7 that has me most excited. And not just for the Chenford portion. (Which does make me giddy to no end) But for him as well. You follow me long enough you'll know I love Tim development. So this excites me so very much.

We watched Tim take strides in his mental health walk and as a person in s6 after 6x07. I expect we're going to see the fruit of that not just in his amends to Lucy. But professionally as well. Tim took quite the fall professionally after being bounced out of Metro. He has fences to mend to Grey, Lt. Pine, and those around him as well in patrol. I see him making those strides and then some.

I predict Lucy is going to finally going to get grounded professionally and personally. (She does have a new roommate. I can see development here too) Lucy got very lost in s6. I think s7 she will be righting her ship. Finding her purpose. My guess was T.O. for her with her dipping her toe with Celina in 6x08. She's so empathetic and willing to slow down and teach. I think that could be a good path for her. Whatever her trajectory is I think it's going to be be worked out in s7 for our girl. It's time for her to get some damn wins. I hope that answers your ask LOL Or maybe was too much? HA Either way I can't wait for s7. I need a promo and a premiere date. Seriously ABC, you're killing us.

#chenford #the rookie #s7 #asked and answered #moderatelydelusional #tim x lucy #otp: doing my job #otp: unless it is #the rookie s7 #tim bradford #lucy chen #tim bradford x lucy chen

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transingthoseformers · 2 months ago

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Hey Riot! 👋 It's been a bit since I've been temporarily on break from Tumblr. Clearly, this means I need to start back with a new au.

Hmm. Kind of want an AU with amnesia Prowl. Like when Chromedome does the thing at the beginning of MTMTE he ends up resetting Prowl not just ripping out the memory Prowl was threatening to reveal to Rewind and you know fucking up Prowl’s mind enough that Prowlastator happened and Bombshell napped him easy. So Chromedome leans back and he has a fresh baby Prowl looking up at him with big confused innocent eyes and promptly freaks out enough to use the Overlord smuggling operation to smuggle in Prowl while he figures out what to do with him.

Cue confused Prowl waiting, trying to be well-behaved for his supervisor. That is what Chromedome is right (?), gives him orders, but he's very lonely and would like to leave the box now.

Eventually, he gets out and finds himself in a cell with a criminal (?). Who refers to him by his designation he hasn't told anyone yet. Overlord having been trained by Trepan recognizes the damages and at least has something (new to) interesting to fill his time with.

Chromedome, meanwhile, doesn't realize he didn't put Prowl in stasis correctly and is trying to figure out the best way to handle Prowl 2.0 with Brainstorm that doesn't involve killing him.

Prowl and Overlord talk, and Prowl feels uncomfortable because basically all he has is old laws and the Autobot Code, which he is now taking as the Law For Living, and this isn't proper prisoner treatment. Which is upsetting for him. He starts taking notes on things he needs to report and eventually finds handcuffs and perks up. All while Overlord watches Prowl do the Transformer equivalent of a puppy stumbling around getting used to his legs.

Overlord is talking to him the entire time mentioning things the Prowl can only respond with a disgruntled "I don't know what that is."

When Prowl pulls out the handcuffs, Overlord makes a kinky joke, which Prowl completely misses, and then watches in bemusmenet as Prowl stands up in front of him and asks if he will cooperate and allow him to switch him to standard prisoner restraints. He says of course officer and Prowl undoes his restraints.

Overlord snatches him up without hesitation, and Prowl squeaks. Overlord considers crushing him but despite his amusement he is still in a Megatron Funk and has no real desire to escape, so he sits up and perches Prowl on his thigh, telling him sweetly he wouldnt be able to reach from down there. Prowl is wary and certain this is Not Normal Prisoner Behavior, but Overlord does let him handcuff him with basically to him streamers and adjust the holding cell to fit regulations better.

He decides to start "processing" Overlord and begins to ask him to fill out paperwork, which Prowl is mentally compiling. Overlord answers Prowl's questions and then mentions he has yet to be able to seek legal counsel or give his charges, which Prowl believes, and the rules say that has to happen.

So Prowl goes on a mission to get Overlord his lawyer. Overlord, feeling vaguely suicidal, gives him Tarn's number. Prowl still instinctively knowing his override codes opens the door and makes the call.

Through a series of slightly murderous attempts due purely to Tarn's curiosity of "what the fuck Prowl?!". He ends up carried off with Overlord who barely even fights which pisses Tarn off just the right amount to store him until later. He has more important things.

Like Converting Autobots.

Ohhhh?

I've seen amnesiac!Prowl in. A fic and another I didn't click on yet, so it's very interesting to see how he acts without his memories

mm mnemosurgery, which I still think is terrifying

well that's not good

The fact that you can just wipe someone's entire fucking everything like that scares me but hey! It's mnemosurgery. That makes sense for mnemosurgery.

Chromedome:

Prowl 2.0:

Chromedome: fuck it, come with me

So leaving Overlord and Prowl alone together has to be fascinating, well ruh roh raggy!

So Overlord has been released early, fuck.

and then mentions he has yet to be able to seek legal counsel or given his charges, which Prowl believes

Suggesting the hilarious imagine that initially Overlord might've had these things, and I'm imagining Overlord in a trial absolutely being a menace the entire time (which does not help his case)

How does he have Tarn's number

Can someone just up and call Tarn and say "hey Mr DJD? I have a traitor for you." and snitch on their one friend who did one (1) Mildly (or more than mildly) Traitorous thing but also happened to piss Character One off at the wrong time?

Can someone just fucking lie to Tarn and frame someone as a traitor?

Even Tarn doesn't know what's up here (he'll learn)

Wonder how well received the sudden arrival of the fucking DJD is :)

Is Prowl about to be possibly converted to a decepticon right now? :D?

#possibly? possibly not?#this is interesting #very interesting #maccadam #transformers #idw prowl #mtmte chromedome #mtmte rewind #cdrw #mtmte overlord #decepticon justice division #mtmte tarn #mtmte brainstorm #interesting #unnamed characters #kinda #it has to be such a menacing scene_ Prowl and Overlord being left alone together #I can't really blame prowl for this_ his memory was wiped amd he doesn't have the context he previously would have #why do i feel like Overlord's rampage has merely been postponed and relocated_ not prevented?

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electric-cross · 3 months ago

Text

I Saw Your Blog

Pairing: Chris Motionless x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Smut, dirty talk

Chris and the reader are close friends. Chris sees the readers blog and feels bold enough to make a move. Romance and smut ensue.

It was almost midnight. You had been texting your friend, Chris, for hours. This went on nearly every day. No matter what the two of you were doing, you always found time to text. Sometimes, you’d even talk on the phone or facetime with one another. He’d become one of your closest friends, and if you were being completely honest with yourself, you’d developed a pretty serious crush on him, as well.

Chris was almost home from a two month tour. You hadn’t seen him in person since before it began, and you were already making plans to hang out once he was home.

“So, I’ll be home on Friday, and we should be able to hang out this weekend,” the text read.

“Okay, awesome. Do you want me to come to your house, or do you wanna come to mine?”

A short silence, then your phone buzzed, once again, “Can we hang out at my place? I’ve just been away for so long, I always look forward to spending time at home.”

“Of course we can. What time do you want me to come over?” you responded.

“Does seven work? We can order in some dinner, if you want.”

“Sounds good to me. What are you in the mood for?”

“Not sure. We can decide on Friday. So what are you up to? Still scrolling through Tumblr? Lol.”

You laughed, “Yeah, you know me. Are you ever gonna use yours again?”

“Not sure. I haven’t used it in like, a decade or something, but you never know. I do like stealthily checking your blog, though. You always have interesting things to say in your tags, lol.”

“Lol, yeah, I can get carried away sometimes, but isn’t that what Tumblr is for?” you answered.

“Haha, yeah, I guess it is. That may be why I left it behind. Some people are a little unhinged.”

You typed, “Yeah, that’s very true, but I’m one of those people, so I have no room to judge, lol.”

“I don’t know if you’re as wild as some people on there, but I’ve seen you allude to some pretty intense things before,” Chris replied.

“What intense things?” you asked.

“Well, sometimes you seem to be yearning in the tags of romantic and sexual posts, so I definitely think I’ve learned some things about you, lol.”

You tensed a bit. You knew that Chris could see those posts, but you were unsure if he knew that it was always him that you were talking about. A part of you wished that he did, so maybe he would make a move on you, but at the same time, you were afraid he’d figure it out and be disgusted by it. You weren’t sure how Chris felt about you, and you were too shy and nervous to ask.

“Oh yeah, well, we all crave it, right? I guess I’m no different than anyone else.” you tried to respond casually.

“That’s very true. If I had a private Tumblr, I’d probably post the same kinds of things that you do,” he texted back.

Feeling a bit brave, you decided to probe further, “Oh? Got your eye on someone that you wanna pine for in the tags? Lol.”

“Lol, definitely.”

Your heart sank. For some reason, your first instinct was to assume that he was talking about someone else and now you were getting confirmation of that. Your crush would go nowhere. You’d been relegated to friend and friend only. However, after that brief moment of sadness, a voice in your head said, “Well, what if it’s me? Could it be? I want to find out, but what if I make a move and then he actually was talking about someone else? Shit. Gotta tread lightly.”

“Oh, wow. I had no idea. Who is she?” you replied cavalierly.

“Well, I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. ;)”

“Haha, well, I think I can fend for myself, so spill! Unless you just don’t want to. It’s really none of my business, but I am curious.”

Suddenly your phone lit up. Chris was calling you. You felt your heart skip a beat, once again. You pushed the buttons and put the phone up to your ear.

“Hey,” you greeted him, “Did you get tired of texting or something?”

He laughed, “No, it’s just that I thought that this conversation would go better if we were actually talking. Plus, I’m finally alone now, so I don’t have any distractions or eavesdroppers.”

“Oh, okay. That makes sense. So what’s up?”

“Well, it’s about the conversation we were just having,” he answered.

“I kinda figured,” you laughed, “What did you want to tell me?”

For a moment, there was silence on the other end, “Chris?”

“Yeah, I’m still here. I’m just trying to think of how to put this.”

“Well, I’m sure any way you put it will be fine, so you may as well just be straight forward.”

“Okay…” he began, sounding nervous, “Well, I do like somebody. It’s just that, I don’t know how this girl feels about me, especially when I know for a fact that she’s already interested in someone.”

You paused, “Oh, well, um, I guess you should just tell her. Maybe she’d be interested. If not, I guess the worst she can say is no, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m really good friends with this girl, and I’d hate to make things weird between us. I guess I’m just debating whether or not it’s worth it to go for it,” he said.

You scoured your brain trying to think of all the single women that you knew Chris was close with. You thought of a couple that you weren’t sure about, but your mind still wasn’t willing to entertain the idea that you could be the girl that he was talking about.

You gathered some courage and spoke into the phone, “Chris, you should just tell her. You never know if it’ll make things weird, or if you can still be friends, and plus, you could end up with a girlfriend. You never know.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re right. It’s just hard, you know?”

“Trust me, I know. That’s why I pine on Tumblr, instead of going on dates,” you laughed.

He laughed in return, “So you get where I’m coming from.”

“Totally. So who is it? Maybe I can help.”

There was another moment of silence over the phone before he finally answered, “Fuck it. Might as well just go for it… It’s you.”

You felt your heart freeze, once again, rendering you speechless. After a few moments of silence, you heard Chris say your name, wondering if you were still on the line.

“Yeah?” you replied sheepishly.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asked.

“Yeah… I did. I’m just making sure that I heard you correctly.”

“So what do you think?” he asked, “Is it gonna make things weird between us, or is there any possible chance that you might feel the same way?”

You paused again, “Chris, who do you think I was talking about in all those tags on my blog?”

“Was it me?” he asked.

You smiled, “Yes, it was you.”

“Seriously?” you could hear the joy in his voice, “You’re into me?”

You laughed, “Yes, I am. I have been for awhile now. I was just too chicken to say anything.”

He sighed, “I know what you mean. I’ve been wanting to tell you how I felt for awhile, too. I just had myself convinced that you were talking about someone else and that I’d only be wasting my time and making a fool of myself if I were to tell you.”

“I get that. I never had any inclination that you liked me, so I kept my mouth shut for pretty much the same reasons.”

There was another pause before Chris spoke, “So, what does this mean? Do you wanna go out sometime?”

“Yeah, I do. What about Friday? Can that be our first official date?”

“Yeah, I’d love that. Do you wanna go out somewhere, or did you still want to just hang out at my house?”

“We can hang out at your house. It’s cozier. Maybe if it goes well, we can have a second date at a restaurant or something.”

“Okay, good. I can’t wait to see you.”

You smiled again, “I can’t wait to see you, either. Just two days, though. I think we can make it until then.”

He laughed, “Yeah, we can make it, but don’t think I won’t still be texting you non stop until then.”

You laughed with him, “Oh, I expected that. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Okay, good, and I’ll be checking your blog too to see what else you have to say about me until then.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll see plenty. I’ll try to keep it PG though.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I like the more salacious things you post.”

“Oh, really? Well, then I guess I’ll have to post as many things about you as I can.”

“I’d love that. I’ll check in on it tomorrow, but for now, I really need to get some sleep. The bus heads out really early tomorrow so I gotta try to get a few hours in, but I hope you post some things about me tonight that I can read tomorrow.”

“Absolutely,” you began, “Get some sleep, and I’ll make sure you have plenty of things to read tomorrow. I’ll talk to you soon, Chris. Good night.”

“Alright, talk to you tomorrow. Good night,” he responded before you both hung up.

You sat in your bed, grinning from ear to ear. You couldn’t believe it. This was actually happening. You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep for hours, so you decided to kill time the way you knew Chris would appreciate. You opened the Tumblr app, and began blogging away, posting things in the tags that you knew only Chris would know was for him.

After an hour or so of carefully curating posts for your new romantic partner, you decided to flip off the lights and try to get some sleep. As you had predicted, it was proving to be most difficult. Your mind wouldn’t stop racing. It was on a constant loop of replaying the conversation in your head, along with daydreaming about what was to come on Friday. Eventually, slumber took over, and you managed to get a few hours of rest.

The next morning, you awoke to find a missed text from Chris, “Hey, so I’m on the bus, and I’ve been killing the last couple of hours just scrolling through your blog and picking up on all the things that were about me. I gotta say, I’m extremely flattered, and it makes me desperate to see you. Especially after last night. ;) I hope you slept well, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

You grinned at your phone, wasting no time in replying, “I just woke up. I gotta get ready for work, but I just wanted to let you know that I got your text and I’m glad you’ve been having fun with my blog, lol. I’ll talk to you later today, alright? I hope you have a good day. :)”

“Okay, baby, text me when you get off work. I hope you have a good day too. <3”

Your heart fluttered. He called you baby. You couldn’t believe that this was all happening so fast. Not that you were complaining, however. Your body went into auto pilot as you prepared yourself for the day. You knew your mind would be preoccupied all day. You weren’t sure exactly how much work was going to be accomplished, but you weren’t too concerned.

After what felt like an eternity, the work day was finally over. You made your way home, got yourself a drink, and made yourself comfortable on the couch, turning the TV on for background noise as you excitedly picked up your phone and texted Chris.

“Hey, work is finally over. Can you talk now?”

You waited a few minutes before getting a reply, “Hey. Sorry, kind of busy getting ready for the show tonight. Can I call you when we’re done?”

“Of course. I’ll be around.”

“Okay, great. Sorry sweetheart, it’s gonna be a few hours, but I can’t wait to talk to you again.”

You smiled, “Take your time. I’ll be just as excited to talk to you later.”

You sat your phone down and watched the news, scrolling through Tumblr, adding a few more posts for Chris’ benefit. Eventually, you made, ate, and cleaned up dinner. Then, spent the rest of the evening watching interviews of Chris on youtube. You loved the way he spoke. He was such an eloquent and articulate speaker. You could watch videos of him all night, which you had on more than one occasion.

Finally, your phone lit up. Chris was calling you.

“Hey,” you greeted him, “How was the show?”

“It was awesome. I think we did pretty well for our last show of this run. What are you up to?”

“Oh, just hanging out at home, watching youtube, nothing too exciting.”

“Oh, yeah? I wish I was there with you, but hey, at least I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your heart started racing, “I know. I’m so excited to see you. It feels like it’s been forever.”

“It really does. Especially after the conversation we had last night. It feels like time is moving at a snail’s pace.”

You chuckled, “Tell me about it. Less than twenty four hours until I see you, and it still feels like it’s taking a lifetime.”

Chris laughed with you, “I know, but at least I get to talk to you now.”

“Well, I can’t talk too long, I do have work in the morning, you know.”

“That’s true. I won’t keep you too long. I just really wanted to talk to you.”

“I really wanted to talk to you, too. Especially after you called me baby in that text you sent me this morning.”

He laughed again, “Oh, yeah. Is that okay? Or is it too soon for that?”

“I don’t mind at all. It made me pretty happy. I know we haven’t even had our first date yet, but I have a feeling this is heading to the point that you’d be calling me baby anyway.”

“Yeah? You think so?” he asked.

“Yeah, I do. Do I get to start calling you baby now, too?”

“Sweetheart, you can call me whatever you want.”

You grinned, “Good to know. Now tell me about the show.”

You spent the next hour or so asking Chris about the concert and making plans for what to eat and what to do the following night. Eventually, you couldn’t hide your yawns any longer.

“Getting sleepy, baby?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m surprised you’re not too. You’ve been up longer than I have and you put on a show. Aren’t you exhausted?”

“Eh, I’m a little tired, but nothing too bad. I think I’m still running on adrenaline from the show and from talking to you. I’ll probably crash soon, though.”

“Well, make it sooner rather than later, I want you well rested for tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah? Am I gonna need a lot of energy?” you could hear the playfulness in his tone.

You laughed, once again, “Well, I don’t know about that, but you never know. Either way, I don’t want you half asleep on our date.”

“You make a good point. Maybe we should both get some sleep then.”

“Sounds good. I’ll talk to you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay. Night, baby,” he said sweetly.

“Good night, baby,” you responded in a similar tone.

You hung up the phone, turned off the TV and headed for bed.

The next morning, you awoke and immediately picked up your phone. You didn’t have any missed texts. Chris must have still been asleep. So, you thought you’d beat him to the punch this time.

“Good morning, sweetheart. I hope you slept well. Have a safe trip home, and I’ll see you tonight! <3”

You sat your phone down and got ready for the last day of the work week. A couple of hours into work, your phone buzzed in your purse. It was Chris.

“Hey baby, I slept great. I hope you did too. I can’t wait to see you tonight. Have a good day at work! <3”

You smiled, placing your phone back into your purse and getting back to the task at hand. A few more hours passed and you received another text from Chris letting you know that he had made it home. You replied with a quick acknowledgement and got back to work. The day dragged on at an excruciatingly slow pace, however. You thought you’d never be off, when finally, the clock struck five. It was finally time to leave.

You rushed out to your car and drove home. You ran through the house to your bedroom and picked up the outfit that you had set aside for the occasion. You freshened up and did your hair and makeup, pleased with the result, especially in combination with the outfit you had changed into. You sprayed on some perfume and took one last look in the mirror. This was the best you’d looked in awhile, and you were pretty pleased with the outcome.

You glanced at the time, and realized it was time to be heading out. It wasn’t a particularly long drive to Chris’, you did live in the same town, after all, but you still didn’t want to be late. You stuffed your phone into your purse and grabbed the keys hanging on a hook near the front door and made your way out to your car. You decided to listen to some Motionless during your drive, just to amp yourself up even more.

After about fifteen minutes, you were finally pulling up to Chris’ house. You felt your heart skipping and you had a lump in your throat. To say you were nervous was an understatement, but that didn’t deter you one bit. You made your way to the front door and rang the bell, waiting for him to answer. After a few moments, the door swung open and you were greeted by the man you were expecting to see.

“Hey!” he said before pulling you into a hug, “You’re right on time.”

You pulled back, “Yep. We said seven so I made sure to be ready.”

“Well come on in,” he said, stepping to the side to allow you entrance.

You entered the residence that you had been in many times before, taking your shoes off by the door. You made your way into the living room and took a seat on the couch, Chris following close behind.

“So I already ordered the food, but can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

“Sure, I’ll take some water.”

“Be right back,” he replied.

You looked around the living room, taking in the unique touches that Chris had decorated his home with. Drawing in a deep breath, you steadied yourself for what was to come this evening. Before you knew it, Chris had returned with two bottles of water and took a seat next to you, handing you your drink.

“Thanks,” you said, taking a sip.

“No problem. So how was work?”

“Ugh, boring. I was too focused on coming here tonight.”

Chris laughed, “Yeah, I was practically counting the minutes all day. I’m so glad you’re here.”

You smiled at him, “So am I.”

The two of you sat, smiling sheepishly at one another.

“So, this is our first date…” he said, breaking the silence.

“It is. I hope it’s not our last one,” you responded.

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be.”

“Good,” you said, smiling again.

The two of you sat in close proximity, gazing at one another. You could feel the electricity in the air as the two of you began to close the gap. Your face was mere inches away from his, when suddenly, the doorbell rang.

“Oh, the food’s here. Damn, that was fast,” Chris said, getting up to answer the door.

You took the moment to collect yourself. You had been so close to finally kissing him. You could almost curse the delivery person at the door. After a moment, Chris returned carrying bags of food.

“Ready to eat?” he asked.

“Actually yeah, I had to skip lunch today so I could definitely eat.”

He took his seat next to you once more and began assembling the contents on the coffee table, “Why’d you have to skip lunch?”

“Oh, just too busy with work stuff. It happens sometimes.”

“Gotcha. Well, I hope you like what I ordered. It’s the same thing we got the last time you were here.”

“Awesome,” you replied while gathering up your food.

The two of you ate and chatted about Chris’ tour and your work and just life in general. Nothing too serious. Even still, you were enjoying yourself immensely.

After you finished eating, Chris cleaned up the remnants and handed you the remote, “Here, pick a movie.”

“What do you feel like watching?” you asked.

“Whatever you want. Maybe something horror?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You scrolled through the endless streaming services as Chris finished cleaning up dinner. You finally landed on Trick ‘R Treat, a movie you knew Chris loved.

He came back into the living room taking his seat next to you, “Trick ‘R Treat, huh? Can’t say I’ve ever seen this one.”

You laughed, “Oh yeah, that’s why I picked it. I wanted you to see something new.”

He laughed with you, “It’s a good choice. We don’t have to watch it just because you know that I like it, though.”

“Hey, I like it too. Plus, it would probably be advantageous to pick something we’ve already seen so we can still talk and not miss anything.”

“You make a good point,” he said, wrapping an arm around you and settling in for the movie.

You nuzzled into his side and focused your attention on the movie beginning in front of you. The movie played for at least half an hour without a word from either of you. You were desperate to try and kiss him again. You contemplated making the first move for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, you worked up the nerve to slide away just enough so that you could face him. His head turned and he caught your gaze.

You were exceedingly nervous, so you simply smiled shyly at him. He returned your grin and before you knew it, he was placing a hand softly on the side of your face. You felt as though you could melt beneath his touch. Your brain had no time to register what was happening as Chris leaned down slowly into you, caressing your lips with his in your very first kiss.

You pressed your lips into his, savoring the softness of his lips. Your mouths worked in unison, dancing with one another. You could have kissed him all night. After a few minutes of light kissing, you felt Chris’ tongue sweep across your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter. You gladly parted your mouth and met his tongue with yours. Your tongues lapping against one another as the kiss grew in intensity. It wasn’t long before Chris had his hands tangled in your hair.

Feeling bold, you placed a hand on his thigh as you continued kissing. Chris gently nipped and sucked your bottom lip giving you all the encouragement you needed to slide your hand up his thigh until you were lightly gripping his cock over his pants. He moaned softly into your mouth as one of his hands left your hair to press your hand even more firmly into his crotch. He moved your hand so that you were rubbing his cock through the material. You could feel him growing hard beneath you.

Soon, you were taking the lead and rubbing him with no assistance. Chris’ hand now on your waist, working its way under the hem of your shirt. He kissed you with fervor as his hand slid upward to caress your breast over your bra. You barely had a chance to take in the sensation before Chris was pulling his hand and lips away from you.

“Come on,” he said standing up and pulling you with him until you were cradled in his arms, “I want the first time I fuck you to be in my bed.”

You felt the blood rush through your system. You couldn’t believe this was happening. You’d dreamt about it. You’d blogged discreetly about it, and you knew he knew that you had been waiting for this.

Chris carried you into his room and laid you down on his bed, the softness of his pillow catching your head. He wasted no time towering over you and kissing you vigorously. His hands roamed up and down your body as his mouth moved with yours. You pulled at his shirt until he sat back on his knees and removed the article of clothing. You stared at his heavily tattooed body, feeling lust begin to wash over you. You couldn’t get your clothes off fast enough.

Chris tore your shirt off and made haste with your jeans. You didn’t give him a chance to start with your underwear as you were too busy undoing his pants and pulling them down, leaving him in just his boxer briefs. He could see the hungry look in your eye, and placed his thumbs under the waistband or his underwear and pulled them down his legs, freeing his cock. Your eyes grew wide as you watched him bounce out of the material. You couldn’t stop staring. You couldn’t even hide it, and you didn’t care.

Chris didn’t seem to mind either, as he gave a slight chuckle and asked, “Like what you see?”

Your eyes still didn’t leave his cock, “Love it,” you replied absently.

He laughed again, “Okay, well, now it’s my turn to see you.”

With that, he was pulling your panties off, leaving you in just your bra, which didn’t stay on much longer, either. Chris pulled you forward and busied his hands with unclasping the material at your back and then pulling the garment off of you, leaving you both completely naked.

“Fuck…” he said, his eyes roaming your body.

You thought he was in some sort of trance momentarily and you began to move toward him, finally feeling bold enough to make the next move. However, your plans were thwarted when Chris wrapped a hand around your throat and pushed you onto your back.

“I’ve seen the things you post about, baby. I know what you want me to do to you.”

Your cheeks flushed hot, and you almost felt embarrassed. You bit your lip and broke eye contact.

“No, don’t get shy on me now. I know what kind of girl you really are, what you want from me. Now take it,” he said, applying more pressure around your throat.

You felt your pussy clench at his words. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted someone this badly. You subconsciously spread your legs.

Chris noticed your motions, “See? That’s my good girl. Spread your legs nice and wide for me.”

You fought back a small moan as Chris towered over you once again, his body pressed against yours as he kissed you roughly, his hand tightening even more around your throat. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh. You wanted it. Wanted him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as if begging him to fuck you. He took the hint and pulled away from you. You took in a deep breath as his hand left your throat to open the drawer of the bedside table. He pulled out a condom and immediately tore the package open. You watched hungrily as he slid the condom onto his cock.

He adjusted himself on top of you once more, “Normally, I’d take my time with you baby, and I promise I will next time, but I need you too fucking badly right now.”

You merely nodded in response as you felt him lining himself up with your entrance. Chris took one last look in your eyes, pressing his forehead against yours before he slowly slid himself inside. You let out a small gasp as you felt his entire girth stretching you open. Your eyelids fluttered as you composed yourself.

Chris seemed to need a second to adjust, as well. After a moment, he began to rock back and forth inside of you before kissing you again as he continued. You kissed back feverishly, and wrapped your legs around him once more. He wrapped one arm beneath the small of your back and pulled you slightly upward into him. The two of you moaned into each other’s mouths at the new angle. He was still moving slowly, but he was hitting that sweet spot inside of you that made your toes curl.

It wasn’t long after that he pulled himself from your lips and wrapped his free hand around your throat again, cutting off slight circulation. He stared intently into your eyes, watching for any slight change. He began bucking his hips more forcefully, filling the room with slapping sounds. You could hear how wet your pussy was getting. You let out a slightly louder moan.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” he asked, still fucking you.

“Mmm, yes.”

“Yeah? You wanted me to fuck you, pretty girl?”

You arched your back as you felt Chris’ grip on your throat tighten, “Yes. Wanted you to fuck me so bad…”

Chris moaned and quickened his pace, “I know, baby. I know exactly what you want from me.”

You moaned louder as Chris grabbed at your hip and throat and practically slammed you into him. He was so much bigger than you. You thought he might break you, and you didn’t care in the slightest.

“Mmm. Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

“Fuck yes…” you responded wantonly.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“You feel so fucking good, Chris. Fuck…”

Chris moaned louder, “That’s my good girl. That’s my good fucking girl…”

His grip on your throat tightened until you were sure he would leave marks. Good. You wanted the reminder that you were now his. The thought spurred your lust even more until you were writhing and moaning beneath him, arching your back into him and trying to soak up as much of him as you could.

“Oh, fuck. You feel so fucking good, baby. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long…” he moaned.

He picked up the pace and gripped you harder. You could feel yourself getting close.

“Oh my god, Chris. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” you whined.

“Yeah? Is my good girl gonna cum for me? You wanna fucking cum, sweetheart?”

You closed your eyes, “Oh, fuck, yes!”

You felt Chris’ lips crash onto yours, kissing you hungrily, swallowing your moans. He never stopped fucking you. Your pussy felt like it was on fire in the best possible way. You felt your cunt clamp down on his cock as he bit your lip before trailing over to whisper in your ear.

“Cum for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

“Oh! Fuck! Mmm…” you began cumming.

Chris moaned into your ear, causing you to cum even harder, “Oh fuck, that’s my girl. That’s my good fucking girl…”

You were just starting to come down from your orgasm as you heard Chris hit his, “Fuck! Ohhh… Shit.”

Your legs were trembling around his waist and your hands had fallen to your sides. Your whole body felt like jello and you weren’t sure if you were even able to move at this point. You felt Chris slow to a stop and you could hear his shallow, jagged breath by your ear. After a moment, he let go of your neck and placed a kiss where the bruises were beginning to form.

Eventually, Chris pulled himself out of you and removed the condom, tying it up and throwing it away in a trash can he had near the bedside table. He moved next to you and laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling, collecting himself and steadying his breathing.

“Fuck. That was well worth the wait,” he said, breaking the silence.

You smiled at him, “I think so too.”

Chris smiled back, “So, does this mean you're my girlfriend now, or do you want a few more dates first?”

“Do you want me to be your girlfriend now?” you inquired.

“Yes. Very much so,” he laughed.

You giggled, “Okay, then I’m your girlfriend.”

Chris smiled widely, “Good.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on yours, once more. A lighter, sweeter kiss this time, but passionate, just the same. You kissed for a few moments more before Chris pulled back, turning to lay on his side, and pulled you flush against him, spooning you.

You lay in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company and processing all that had just transpired when Chris said, “I’m so glad I stalked your blog.”

You laughed, “Give you some ideas, did it?”

“Definitely. Oh, and don’t worry. I know there was a lot that I didn’t get to this time, but I promise I’ll cross everything off your list very, very soon.”

You laughed once more, “Okay, good. I promise to learn yours too and do them for you as well.”

He returned your laugh, “Maybe I should start using my blog again so you can learn about my kinks too.”

“No way,” you began, still laughing, “If you’re gonna copy me, at least make a private blog that only I know about. We don’t need your fans knowing about the slutty things we do.”

“Okay, I promise it’ll be private, but it’s gonna be filthy.”

“I think I can handle it,” you replied.

“Oh, I’m sure you can if yours is any indication of how nasty you are, sweetheart.”

You giggled again, “What can I say, I know what I want.”

“Yeah, so do I, and I plan on showing you,” he said as he rubbed his hand up and down your hip.

You ground your ass against his cock, daring him to get hard again, “Can’t wait, baby.”

#chris motionless #chris motionless x reader #chris motionless x female reader #miw #miw band #miw fic #motionless in white #motionless in white fic #miw fanfic #motionless in white fanfic

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