Hours later and Soul's ears were still ringing from his meister's last pain-filled screams.
As Soul held his crying meister to his chest in comfort, he realized that even the strongest of heroes have their breaking points.
"I told you, I don't remember where I put it so – and now I suddenly remember where it is!" said Soul as he escaped from the hard packed encyclopedia Maka held.
"Just take the damn things and let me begin cleansing my mind of what I just did!" yelled Soul as Maka rolled her eyes at his immaturity – after all, they were just tampons.
"You let me win!" shouted a panting Maka accusingly at her partner, Soul, who had hardly broken a sweat.
"This house is always such a mess after Black Star comes over," Maka grumbled to herself.
Calloused, tan fingers brushed against the words engraved in the dreary gray stone reading:
You finally earned your angel wings.
The book's spine made contact with Soul's defenseless head, causing it to spurt out a blood fountain while Maka's irritated voice commanded him to stop playing with Blair and eat before his food got cold.
Soul stood next to Maka's hospital bed, eyes fixed on the baby slumbering in her arms with red hair, thinking, 'Oh Lord.'
"If not from the carton, where would you like me to drink from?" Soul whispered huskily in Maka's ear, wrapped his arms around her and pressed himself into her back, earning a very sexy, un-Maka-like whine.
The content and peaceful expression she wore, her chest rising and falling slowly and evenly with each breath she took, how her bangs brushed against her forehead and into her closed eyes, her huddled form resting on the tabletop, arms being used as pillows; the best times were when Maka studied into the early hours of the morning.
Soul thanked Shinigami that Maka was strong-willed; during battle, whenever she was knocked down, the Black Blood and the Little Demon called to him, promising him power to protect Maka and himself properly and he always almost gave in. . .until Maka got back up and continued to fight.
Soul loved being in weapon form, especially when during battles, he'd always get a peek under Maka's skirt whenever she kicked her leg up high and held him low to the ground.
A timid, pleading Maka crawled suggestively onto Soul, looking at him innocently with her large eyes and said, "Maybe you could help me understand?"
Soul lifted up Maka's skirt to reveal not white cotton as he expected, but red silk underwear.
"Have you ever considered wearing pants? That skirt hardly covers anything."
As he lay on his bed, holding his throbbing head, Soul made a pact to himself to NEVER AGAIN tell Black Star about anything he and Maka did.
Maka didn't like to dream; they were only another form of lies.
"Congratulations. You've discovered that lit candles burn hair," taunted Soul as he cut off all of the burnt hair of a pouting Maka.
"That Albarn girl's got skill. We could use her up in Canada. We're not doing so well right now. We could even pair her up with one of our death scythes," said one of Canada's officials, unaware of the eavesdropping Soul whose heart was being crushed in the fist of his words.
The apartment was unusually quiet, Maka noticed, without her boisterous partner, causing a ruckus; something she now missed dearly.
"Oh my gosh, Maka! You don't know Don't Stop Believin'? Where have you been? Living under a rock?"
"Blair, you are banned from the kitchen. Forever."
It wasn't the want to be stronger that drove her, it was him – it was always him.
Sharp teeth, blood-red eyes, snow-white hair, the "cool" façade; it was all just and act to cover up the scars from his past, the ones only she saw.
Laughter filled the atmosphere at Soul's girly scream from the ice cubes that had been generously shoved down the front of his pants by Maka, who stood with her hands on her hips, claiming it as "revenge for last week."
Maka didn't think that Soul understood how easy it was to fall down, but how difficult it was to rise up again – he did unfortunately.
After enrolling in Shibusen, he had forgotten what it felt like to be alone and was okay with not being reminded.
Soul didn't understand why Maka was always asking to learn how to dance, she did just fine on her own (with some help from good ole' Jack Daniels).
Forget blankets and shelter; Soul's body was all she needed to keep warm.
There wasn't anyone like her; no one else smacked him on the head with the spine of a hardcover book.
For them, there were no goodbyes because their souls were entwined permanently.
They've seen the world – from Los Angeles, California to Sydney, Australia – but they haven't really seen it.
"We're going to skip the formalities and you're going to follow me into my room where you then proceed to give me the night of my life. Got it?" said Maka, ignoring all of her moralities (such as not picking up strangers at hotel bars).
Apparently, Soul didn't understand that even if she wore his jacket to keep her from getting ill, it didn't help any because now she was going to have to care for his sick ass.
Maka stared in horror as her partner's eyes paled to a salmon pink as the Black Blood took over and shivered at his insanity-filled laugh, deeply ashamed to say that it aroused her a little bit.
Her father lied to her about his love for her and she hated him for it, but when Soul lied to her about his love for her, she was only attracted to him more.
It was annoying anytime he complimented her she wouldn't believe him or she'd be modest and deny it, but when he insulted her she took it to heart and never forgot it.
When Maka became more and more stressed with each passing day, Soul forced her on a relaxing vacation to a spa (and of course he went too to… "help").
The hissing tendrils of madness coaxed away her best friend and Soul was there for her when Maka sobbed for hours over the disappearance of her pink-haired friend.
He'd been waiting forever for this perfect moment to confess to Maka and no one was going to ruin it – so yes, punching Black Star in the face and breaking his nose was necessary.
At the beginning of their partnership, they had always exchanged awkward conversation, but now they told each other about everything and anything.
When Maka got a cold one weekend, Soul went to twenty-three different stores, looking for the rare kiwi-flavored cough medicine because he knew she preferred it over all of the others.
They could rebuild a new world – a safer one – with the kishin's defeat.
It may have been the championship game of the play-offs, but there wasn't even the slightest of protest from Soul's mouth when Maka sat on his lap and blocked his view of the screen with her low-cut top.
The guilty weight of Maka's bold and reckless action to save him remained in his chest as he traced the tubes in her arms with watering eyes.
If Maka thought riding a motorcycle was scary going through city streets, just wait until they hit the interstate.
She felt the wavelength behind that brick wall no problem; the real problem resided in the fact that she couldn't identify what kind of soul it was.
He climbed the stone steps quickly, knowing he shouldn't keep her waiting too long; however when he arrived at the top, he saw her halfway out the window, ready to climb down with her makeshift rope of clothes and rags ("Took you long enough.").
His steady heartbeat in his chest and leveled breathing consoled her after her scarring, terrible night, offering her the last bit of safety she was allowed.
;_; Dear Lord, man. I started this last year and just now finished? WHY DO I HAVE THE TENDENCY TO PUT THINGS OFFALL OF THE TIME?
Some of these sentences may be in oneshots I write (or will be the basis of any I write). Some will forever remain in this, never to see the light again. The ones I will probably write a story about are: 14, 26, & 34. Key word there is "probably."
And yes, I did totally fuck up the English language while writing this. I'm so glad you noticed.
I am going to post the other 4 sets as soon as I finish them. They're all pretty much done, I just have a few more sentences to go.
Tell me what your favorites are in a review. ;)
Until next time~!