#soulevansxgenderneutralreader

soul was convinced this was the greatest idea he’d had all week. “c’mon, just try it once.” you crossed your arms. “soul… i’m a meister, yeah, but i don’t know how to use a scythe. you already have a meister.” “maka’s busy.” “she said she was reading.” “exactly. busy.” “…” he flashed that lazy grin that always meant he was about to make your day significantly more complicated. “you’ll be fine. just pick me up and swing.” “i feel like you’re oversimplifying this.” “nah.” with a dramatic flourish, soul transformed into his scythe form.

“…seriously?” no response. “…you’re actually making me do this.” you sighed, grabbed the handle, and immediately realized he was way heavier than he looked. “how does maka carry you so easily?”

soul’s voice echoed from his weapon form. “she’s got practice. c’mon, loosen up.” you awkwardly adjusted your grip before taking one experimental swing. “…see? not bad.” “i almost dropped— “again.” he cut you off. against every instinct screaming don’t, you swung harder. for exactly half a second, it looked like it was actually working. then your footing slipped. “oh, no—” “WAIT, DON’T LET GO—” too late.

soul flew out of your hands like a launched javelin, embedded himself in three training dummies, ricocheted off a wall, and transformed back mid-fall with an undignified thud. silence. you rushed over, horrified. “soul! are you okay?” he stared at the ceiling for a second before letting out a laugh. “…that was kinda cool.” “you quite literally got thrown across the room.” “i got a lotttt of airtime.” “i almost killed my boyfriend.” “nah.” he sat up, rubbing the back of his head with a grin. “you just need practice.” you blinked. “you want to do that again?” you asked, skeptical. he stood, dusting himself off. “absolutely.” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “one of these days,” you muttered, “i’m going to start saying no to your ideas.” soul slung an arm around your shoulders, laughing. “but today’s not that day.” “…unfortunately for me, it isn’t.”

he laughed even harder, already transforming again before you could protest, completely confident that eventually the two of you would get it right—even if the DWMA training room didn’t survive the process.

— ⊂⊃ tagsss