#the weapon/meister relationship is so intimate. you really see that with soul and maka

[neithercrazynorfree]

Makasoul is like ideal straight shipping material and like #lowkey subversive like the way soul takes a backseat and maka’s the one leading their operation and has all of these traditionally masculine qualities like she is much more hotheaded and aggressive. They both cook dinner and soul wears a little apron. Maka has this whole hangup about not being able to protect soul. It’s so refreshing. And all that aside they just purely care for and love one another…. ❤️

[microsuedemouse]

tumblr user @chichirichick asked (via DM) for SoMa with song 35!

(send me a ship and a number from 1-100; I'll write a short scene inspired by the corresponding song from my Spotify top songs this year)

this is actually a combination I really, really liked!! the romance of this song is so warm and loving and, idk, I just thought it was a good match for Soul and Maka.

April 7th | 1 060 words | G

when I'm with you well it's just like it's the first time never thought that you would turn into my best life before the blur, well, there you were, under the lights

(April 7th never meant as much as that night)

To be completely honest, Soul didn’t even really understand how time worked, on a night like this. If he looked at a clock, he could see that it had been hours. And in some ways that made perfect sense. But it also felt like it had been forever ago that they’d finished washing up after dinner and wandered into the living room, still chatting… and yet the time had flown by like it was nothing. None of it really added up. He wasn’t complaining, though; a good evening in with Maka was worth more to him than he’d ever have cared to admit.

Except that he was all too aware, lately, of how he’d been inching closer every day to admitting it. To himself, to her, to the entire world.

He couldn’t say for certain how long he’d been trying not to think about it. These things could be hard to define. After all, the nature of their relationship as weapon and meister necessitated that they were close, no matter how much they drove each other up the wall early on. In order to function as a team, in order to resonate souls and perform the duties expected of them, they had to know each other, deeply. No matter how much friction there was between them – and in the beginning, it had been a lot – nothing had ever felt more natural than resonating with Maka, his handle held firm in her grip, his blade sharp and gleaming. From the very first day she’d wielded him, they’d seen everything in each other: flaws, fears, hopes, intentions. And living together had only ever increased that knowledge. Soul knew every wrinkle of Maka’s complicated relationship with her father, and he knew how she liked the silverware drawer organized. And, of course, all of this was mutual. Maka knew the details of every mortifying mistake he’d ever made in a piano recital, and she knew which deodorant scents irritated his skin.

In spite of all this, though, they never actually ran out of things to talk about. It amazed him sometimes. He couldn’t remember what they’d been discussing when they settled into their places on the couch after dinner; all he knew was that, even though the days were finally growing noticeably longer now, it was long dark outside the window and their conversation had rambled through what seemed like every topic under the sun. She had rested her feet in his lap while they talked about how much Crona had grown this year, and she’d helped him scratch the itchy spot he couldn’t quite reach in the middle of his back while they chatted about foods they’d loved when they were kids, and when she’d told him a story from her childhood with Black*Star, he’d laughed so hard he slid off the edge of the couch onto the rug. Even though most of what they talked about seemed largely meaningless, simply the act of talking for so long, uninterrupted by the world outside their living room, felt so… intimate. They knew the best and the worst of one another, but that did nothing to reduce how personal and honest and close it felt to chat for hours about all of the irrelevant minutiae of their lives.

He was still sitting there on the floor, leaning lazily against the seat cushions, head tipped back and eyes closed. Maka’s socked feet weren’t far from his shoulder, and she’d reach out and poke him with her big toe once in a while, to punctuate something she’d said or just to bother him. But at some point during her recollection of the first time she’d ever met Lord Death, he picked his head back up and turned to look at her, listening still, and the sight of her knocked the breath out of him.

There was a small lamp she kept on the side table to read by, and when the room got dark she’d turned it on to its lowest setting. From his angle now it was almost completely behind her, and she… glowed a little, in the warm light. She wasn’t looking at him, eyes focused on some arbitrary point in the distance as she pulled out and re-tied one of her pigtails. Her story stopped for a moment when she put her hair tie between her teeth, combing out a knot in her hair with her fingers, but she was still smiling just a tiny bit, eyes soft with fondness for the memory she’d been sharing.

And on God, for a second there, Soul couldn’t breathe.

All those feelings he’d been trying not to linger on came rushing in at once, like a sledgehammer to the gut. It was overwhelming, the intensity and depth and wholeness with which he loved her. Nothing – not fear, not fury, not madness itself – had ever consumed him as completely as this did, just for a moment or two. There were so many things about Maka that infuriated him, and he realised suddenly and with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t change any of them, given the chance. Not now that he knew how much and how well they grew when they were together, and how much they still would, as long as they were always side by side. Adjusting to one another over time, learning to appreciate each other’s quirks and work around each other’s pet peeves, felt so much better than simply changing someone ever could.

He was trapped in his head with this for a few seconds, probably, before Maka seemed to notice. He didn’t even register that she’d turned his way until she asked, “Soul?” Her voice brought him crashing back to earth, and when his vision came into focus, there she was, looking down at him with curiosity. “You still in there? Whatcha thinkin’ so hard about?”

Feeling oddly winded, Soul blinked, then stared at her. He halfway expected to choke on his own emotions, still too big to contain, when he opened his mouth. “Hey, Maka?”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

Soul braced one hand against the couch cushions as he got up to his knees and spun towards her. His other hand reached out for her cheek, drawing her down to meet him in the middle, and he felt her start, but she didn’t resist. She gripped his shoulder, steadying herself, as he kissed her.