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Death The Kid x Reader CHAPTER 15Chapter XV
"Mm-hmm," you mindlessly nodded and took his hand to dance, rising slowly to your feet.
He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, then began swaying to the music. You grinned and placed your arms around his lithe shoulders; the beginning to your first dance.
"I don't know how to dance very well," you admitted, knowing he probably knew the steps to almost any formal dance.
He shrugged lightly and continued to sway in circles as he looked into your eyes.
You blushed and looked away, letting a small grin take over your face. "So," you began, looking up at him through the corner of your eye. "Girlfriend, huh?" you teased.
He blushed, a slight chuckle escaping his mouth. "Well, it's definitely more than friendship, wouldn't you agree, beautiful?" He gazed back at you with sparkling eyes.
This got your attention; you turned your blushing face back in his direction. "Y-yes..." you answered, not sure if he meant it as a rhetorical question.
"And there's not a
Soul x Reader - Introduction / PreludeChapter One: Introduction/Prelude
You were walking down the great halls of the DWMA after school, hand-in-hand with your best friend, Soul Evans, who was acting as chill as usual. You frowned inevitably, because you knew it didn't mean the same to him, and it probably never would. He would probably never figure out how you felt for him, even if it hit him plain in the face; he was just "too cool" to pay attention to anything.
Your grip tightned reflexively, and he looked your way, his red irises meeting yours in a questioning glance.
"You okay?" he asked in a deep voice, squeezing your hand back in response.
"Uh-huh," you choked out, giving him a fake smile.
It was no use; he knew you too well. He saw right through your facade and asked again.
You sighed and looked away from his worried face, a slight reddish tint on your fair cheeks. Why couldn't he realize what he was doing to you? You wished he would either just tell you whether he liked you or not, so you could just stop hurting.
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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