Disclaimer – I do not own Soul Eater.
Author's Note – First contribution to this fandom. I've just recently discovered Soul Eater and I must say an excellent anime/manga. I've been perusing the fandom for the last few weeks, and I must applaud the authors in this section. Never have I read such an amazing amount of fiction that full encompasses the relationship spectrum of two characters like Soul and Maka. The fluff is fantastic and the shamelessly joyful smut that has been written for these two is impeccable.
Anyway, please enjoy.
There was a moment, as she floated in the never ending stream of madness, where she could almost feel the time ticking away one eon at a time, and she didn't want to leave, but then his voice shattered the illusion and pushed her forward.
His hand's burned against her skin, and her body quaked with anticipation, but it was only when he finally joined their bodies together for the first time and her muscles clenched around him that she felt more alive than she had in her entire life.
She had enjoyed their weekend at the beach, the whole group all together; there was something relaxing about reading a good book on the seashore… there was something even more relaxing about dragging Soul down to the dock for an "extracurricular," he didn't seem to mind.
It was ridiculous, the amount of gauze and anti-septic they went through – they had expected blood and injury, pain and weariness, but nothing had prepared them for the sacrifice the war with Asura would require of their wallets to compensate for all the first aid.
Spirit didn't know what hit him the day he found out his baby girl, Maka, had been with her "good for nothing" weapon in a very physical sense.
Dr. Stein's experiment, however dumb they had acted toward one another, had managed one thing.
He had warned her that her usual cloak and boots wouldn't cut it for an English winter, but she hadn't listened, as usual, so he shook his head and pulled her just a little bit closer.
It had nothing to do with the way his heart skipped a beat whenever she smiled just like it had nothing to do with the way her breath got caught every time he looked at her with that devilish look in his eye.
Maybe it was because they lived in a place called Death City who was run by the Shinigami himself, but Soul and Maka threw themselves into every fight to took without a care for the word.
She'd been laying on the couch reading that day when Soul got the strangest urge to take the last plunge in their relationship and draw her attention back to the needs of her boyfriend – about five minutes into the "excursion", Maka's book fell to floor, forgotten.
He once asked her what it was after the term came up in English class; Maka simply said she hoped she would never have to write one for him.
Oh, how that sword could be obnoxious… Excalibur had taken over the class again, so Maka decided it would be a nice opportunity to… ehem… "play" with Soul; they were sitting at the back of the room, she wondered how long it would take him to give them away.
His hands were everywhere on her body, touching, caressing, pleasuring, his lips traced the shell of her ear all the way down her neck to the valley of her breasts, sensual and comforting as his body moved over hers ready to take its own pleasure- "Maka… get up, we're going to be late for school!"
Spirit could say anything he wanted about Soul simply because he knew Maka didn't care about what he thought, a fact he was okay with.
Death the Kid may have been a god by birthright, but Soul knew no one could be godlier than him when he had Maka worshipping his body.
She fell asleep on the couch again, and being the cool guy that he was, he decided to tuck her into bed so she wouldn't get cold; as he closed the door he could've sworn he heard a whispered "goodnight" fall from her lips.
Blair always went crazy during the Halloween season; this year she took it upon herself to be Maka's personal stylist, much to the blonde's chagrin, but let's just say that when Soul saw the result of the magical cat's hard labor, he nearly died of blood loss – Maka in a skimpy, purple and red witch's outfit had that effect on people.
His fingers halted in their journey along the piano keys, "Sorry, I didn't mean to interupt. My name is Maka."
Soul understood why she loved reading so much, he really did, in fact he wished that he had a haven he could return to when reality got to be too much; that's the part where he would pull her out of her book.
Should there ever come a time when they needed to regroup, the black room with its strange jazz music was always available.
Green may not have been his favorite color but he could forget that fact whenever he looked deep into her eyes.
There were times when even a "Maka Chop" could feel like a kiss.
Maka was using Tsubaki again, "They look good together," some random student had observed during PE that morning – poor kid didn't know what was happening when Soul and Black Star cornered him later to "clarify" that both young ladies already had partners.
He didn't mind the times he and Maka were the last to leave the classroom after school; such an event usually included Maka's moans and the ceaseless murmurings of his name as Shibusen's number one student allowed herself to be taken long and hard on the teacher's desk after a long boring day.
Maka's eyes seemed to gleam in the light of the grinning moon before she closed the door to Soul's room and made her way to his bed.
Maka couldn't understand them, and she didn't feel the need to try; there were only one man in her life she would ever bother herself to understand, and he was more than happy about that.
She once told him she didn't want to get married; years later, he wondered if maybe she'd changed her mind… never mind the fact that when you live with someone for so long it became a common law marriage.
Soul once heard Maka singing to herself in her room; it was then he thought that maybe she wasn't as musically daft and he originally thought.
It was cold, she could feel the blood seeping from her body, but just as she was about to succumb to the darkness, he placed his hand on her head and told her to hang on.
How long had they been fighting, they couldn't remember; all they could do was keep moving toward the oasis in front of them uncaring if it was a mirage so long as they were together.
Maka could pretend to be an obedient student all she wanted, but Soul had seen on a number occasions that when she disobeyed she did it, like everything else she set her mind to, perfectly.
They had all gone to the beach for the weekend: Death the Kid, Black Star, Tsubaki, Liz, Patti, Soul, and Maka, and it was during a game of beach volleyball that Soul realized the water was the color of Maka's eyes.
Maka loved hearing Soul play the piano almost as much as Soul loved the sounds Maka could make on the piano under his tutelage.
It was the one game the guys played that Maka could win every time.
Never had Soul seen anything more precious than the tiny buddle cradled in Maka's arms.
Liz, Patti, Tsubaki, and Maka decided to play a card game one day: you would ask a question and then proceed to place the cards down one by one in two separate piles, one meaning yes the other meaning no, until a royal appeared then that was your answer; Patti asked the question, "Does Soul like Maka?" Tsubaki laid the cards, and despite Maka's protests, the queen of hearts came to rest over the "yes" pile.
Maka loves the color red, she thinks maybe it's because of Soul.
Most of the student body heard about Soul and Maka dating but most were unwilling to believe the rumors; after all the pair acted the same as they always did during school hours… it wasn't until Black Star caught them making out by the locker rooms after hours that everyone started believing the story.
He didn't buy a ring deciding such a tradition didn't suit Maka; luckily she agreed.
"Rose, rose, rose red, will I ever see thee wed?" Soul recited aloud from their reading for the week; Maka ever the abid reader finished the quote from memory, "I will marry at thy will, sire."
She could curse and holler at him all she wanted when it rained and they had no other mode of transportation other than his motorcycle… so long as she wore that lovely white shirt for his viewing pleasure.
He found her in the bathroom one night after a more difficult mission; despite the blood lazily gushing from the cuts on her arms, neck, and back, she had refused his offer of first aid in favor of a shower, but two hours later, after forcing his way into their shared bathroom (she hadn't even noticed him enter), he found her staring at the newly forming scar on her back in the mirror… she had been naked and wet but he didn't hesitate to wrap her in his arms and tell her she was beautiful.
There are some things they just don't talk about…
It wasn't anybody's business but their own what they did in the sanctity of their own home… at least that's what Maka would say; Soul on the other hand was more than willing to give an answer to the right question.
This was definitely not one of the coolest moments of his life; there she was dressed in his favorite color just waiting for him to make a move, and all he could do was stutter.
Maka and Black Star could get into some messy fights, and it was up to Soul and Tsubaki to nurse their respective meisters' wounds upon their conclusions, though Soul couldn't help but be proud when Maka became strong enough to end the fights in draws rather than losses.
Soul didn't quite get it at first, a few glances up her skirt while he was in scythe form was nothing new, but the opportunities for such glances had been happening more and more frequently as of late; he didn't realize it was on purpose until he notice that her panties weren't so bland anymore.
Shibusen had a class specifically for weapons; it was in this class that Soul, Tsubaki, Harvar, Jackie, Fire, Lightning, Liz, and Patty learned that few meisters lived long enough to become three star meisters, but Soul merely gritted his teeth promising himself that such a fate would never befall Maka.
Because their relationship was better understood in silence.
Maka's soul perception, while a useful tool in battle, often left Soul uneasy because he would never be able to see what she sees, and there are times when he doesn't want to.
People always say blondes taste like vanilla, but Soul couldn't disagree more; Maka tasted more like strawberries.
They had argued the night before, and she stormed out of the apartment with enough clothes to last her until the next day; she returned in the early evening at Tsubaki's insistence to find a simple white tulip (the flower that asks forgiveness) on the kitchen counter; strong arms wrapped around her waist and for a whole minute, she lost her voice.
"Shouldn't we slow down a bit," she gasped… his reply followed by another kiss, "No."
He could admit it when he wanted; she was his weakness, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
They shared a bed more often than not because they felt safer whispering sweet nothings beneath the sheets.
When Soul finally consumed Arachne's soul, he turned to Maka with a wide grin on his face, licked his lips and said, "Delicious, now who's for dessert?" – Maka hadn't blushed so red in her life.
Maka had been noticeably more grouchy as of late; when Black Star and Kid asked Soul what was up, he said they'd been having a bit of a dry spell… when Liz and Tsubaki asked Maka what was up, she said Soul was being a stubborn ass.
When he became a full-fledged Death Scythe, Soul would sometimes be sent on long missions on his own, and Maka would always be just a little bit clingy whenever he got back; he didn't understand the reason for this behavior until she was sent on her own month-long assignment with another weapon.
Surprisingly neither of them really remembered their anniversary; it was Tsubaki and Kid who had reminded them, and once that happened they both panicked trying to find an appropriate gift.
Kid had zero tolerance for anything asymmetrical as we all know, and he was always the first to comment on anything messy, out of order, or unsymmetrical, so naturally it was Kid who spotted them first when a disheveled Soul and Maka were trying to make a discrete exit from the party after they had disappeared for almost thirty minutes… one of Maka's pigtails hadn't been retied in exactly the same place.
1 This is from the song Rose Red by Emilie Autumn. I do not own this.
2 Definition – Adj. being deficient in moisture