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redphlox · 4 years

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wings*

day 6 of @soulxmakaweek 2020 X Soul pops his head into the small bathroom to raise an eyebrow at Maka, their eyes locking in the mirror. “I heard banshee screeching. Are you being murdered or do you need me to be your alibi for murdering someone?”

“None of the above,” she confirms, sucking in a ragged breath that somehow only aggravates her more. “I’m trying to put on wings.”

Faint interest flickers in Soul’s eyes. “Wings?”

“Yes, wings.” Exasperated, she raises the liquid eyeliner stick that arrived (late) in a beat-up, squished, and possibly already opened box delivered to their doormat earlier that day. “I’ve watched six million tutorials online, called Liz and Kid for help, and tried every hack I could find, but I can’t make my eyeliner even.”

“It’s all in the wrist,” her weapon partner says, and when she responds with a confused expression, he steps into the bathroom. “It’s just art, Maka, but on your face. Here, can I try?”

Having him this close throws her nervous system out of wack. That’s been happening a lot lately. It’s like she can feel the warmth radiating off his skin and she wants to reach out and touch him to feel it herself. But why does his proximity affect her now? They touched a lot before in the past, actually---when he’s in weapon form, when they hold hands while one of them is in distress---except now she wants not to have an excuse. Somehow it doesn’t seem fair that she knows him inside and out emotionally but there exists a physical side of him she’s never explored before.

Maka is so entranced by his hands handling the eyeliner that she doesn’t notice him staring at her expectantly. “Huh? Sorry, I zoned out.”

“I said, uh...come closer?” He bites his lower lip, his breathing shallow and his voice somehow unsure. “So I can put your wings on for you.”

“Oh--uh, okay. Yeah.”

Maka’s heartbeat drums in her chest as she takes the smallest step forward, tilting her head up to try and make up for their height difference. Oh wow. She’s been close to him, but not like this, practically standing on top of his feet. Such a position feels too...intimate, especially when he cups her face with a gentle hand and stoops down. Maka forgets how to breathe while he first studies her face before sliding a finger underneath her chin and tilting her head up even more. She has no choice but to watch him watch her. Not that she’s strong enough to focus on anything else or even pay attention to what’s happening. Soon she feels the cool touch of liquid on her upper-lid, and then the other, and then---

“Done,” Soul announces proudly. Something like adoration shines in his eyes as he stares while she inspects his work in the mirror. She pretends not to notice, thanking him about a million times for his work because fuck, it’s really good. Better than the makeup gurus she’s been seeking out on the internet for advice.

“Your emo phase with guyliner really helped me out,” Maka teases, fumbling over her words.

“It wasn’t a phase and I’m still emo. But actually, it helps that I like artsy stuff. And that I’ve looked at you a lot.”

“Oh,” is all she can muster, what with her brain short circuiting at this revelation. No way is she going to dig deeper into that statement.

For a second Soul looks like he wants to confess something, but then seals it away behind a crooked grin. He brushes her hair away from her face with feather-like grace before leaning back against the bathroom counter to continue admiring his work. Maka prays that he doesn’t attribute the pink searing her cheeks to any feelings about him because that would totally be untrue.

“Damn, I do a good job, huh?”

“So humble,” is all she can manage before rushing out of that cramped space that smells like his laundry detergent and keeps messing with her head.

“I’m here if you need a touch-up or need another appointment,” he calls after her. It sounds so sweet to her ears. “I’m always available if it’s you.”

#soul eater #soulxmaka #soul x maka #soul eater evans #soul evans #maka albarn #somaweek #soulxmakaweek #somaweek2020 #soulmaka #souleater #soma #redphlox writes #this is unbeta'd and prob has 1000 typos

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zxanthe · 4 years

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we’re not dating!

late entry for @soulxmakaweek day 5

also available on ao3 and ff.net

Nakatsukasa Tsubaki likes to consider herself rather observant. She notices things other people don’t – the spark of irritation in Liz’s eyes when Black Star laughs too loudly, the particular way that Stein ever-so-slightly favors his left side in fights regardless of the weapon he wields, and the peculiar orbit that Soul and Maka seem to fall into around each other. Their weapon-meister bond is as strong as it ever was – stronger, she thinks, since they reorganized into the Spartoi unit and Soul became a death scythe. It isn’t so much one or the other as them together lately, Soul-and-Maka, two parts of one whole. She came by one day to watch their training session, heard Soul call Maka “angel” with the barest hint of a smile on his face, watched the way Maka seemed to brighten all the way to the tips of her pigtails.

It was then that her suspicion solidified into a certainty.

She wonders, though, if either of them even really know it, on a conscious level at least. If Soul is precisely aware of the degree to which his eyes soften and his mouth curves upward when he looks at Maka. If Maka is aware of the blatant upswing in her mood whenever she’s around Soul, the way her cheeks color and her hands flutter around him, brushing him, not quite grabbing.

Knowing them, probably not. Tsubaki herself has never been in love, but she’s read a lot of shoujo manga.

She tries to untangle the situation in her gentle, oblique way on the rare occasions when they’re apart.

“You and Maka have a very strong partnership,” she remarks to Soul one day, when they’re in the middle of a paired assignment on the topic in a Weapon class.

“Yeah,” says Soul, and there’s that soft smile. “It’s…pretty damn cool, honestly. Without her I wouldn’t be where I am now.”

Tsubaki feels a brief, awful pang – lately it seems that Black Star needs her less and less. In the back of her mind she wonders if there will come a day when he doesn’t need her at all. She pushes the thought down. “I admire that,” she says instead, and means it. “What you two have is a precious thing. I don’t blame you for being joined at the hip.”

Soul shoots her a glance. “Joined at the hip?”

Oh, Shinigami have mercy. “Well, you two do spend a lot of time together.”

Soul seems to be mulling it over. “Yeah, I guess,” he says finally, and sets his pencil to paper.

Even Black Star notices something’s up. “Say,” he says to her one morning, in the midst of headstand pushups. “You notice something…weird about Soul and Maka lately?”

Tsubaki takes a pointed sip of her tea. “Yes.”

“Have they always been so…together? Like, every time Soul comes to game, Maka comes with him, and like, I know you girls like to do your girly shit or whatever in the bedroom, and that’s fine, like I love Maka don’t get me wrong, but didn’t she used to…stay home?”

“She did,” Tsubaki confirms. “I guess even she’s feeling a little less pressure to study all the time, now that we’re Spartoi.”

“Hmm, yeah. Who’da thunk, turbo-nerdette is chilling out. I think Patty owes me money now.”

Tsubaki just laughs. “You might have to fight her for it.”

Star makes a face and starts doing his pushups a little faster.

Tsubaki calls Maka one afternoon, because her strawberry plants are going crazy and she has enough to share. She doesn’t pick up. Tsubaki chews the inside of her cheek, debating, and then decides to anyway, because she’s got errands to run in that part of town and it couldn’t hurt, unless –

She shakes her head, a blush rising in her cheeks. No way would they have gotten to that stage yet, unless some weird freak accident happened where they both simultaneously stopped being dense as brick walls. She sighs, and hops on her bike.

She climbs the stairs to Maka and Soul’s apartment and knocks softly on the door, feeling a not-inconsiderable measure of relief when a muffled “come in!” wafts through the wood. She turns the knob and lets herself in to the apartment, closing the door carefully behind her. When she turns around, her eyes widen involuntarily.

“Oh – um – am I interrupting something?”

“No,” says Maka, looking up from the couch to smile at Tsubaki and wave with the hand not clutching her book, the one that was previously tangled in Soul’s white hair, free of product for once. It’s oddly intimate, even more so than their positions. “Ooh, whatcha got there?” she asks.

“Strawberries,” Tsubaki says, not sure where to put her eyes and settling on a spot just to the left of Maka’s face. “Fresh from my garden. Um, I’ll just…”

“Yeah, just put them in the kitchen. I’d get up, but…” She gestures to the sleeping boy on her chest and gives Tsubaki a vaguely sheepish, what-can-you-do sort of smile. Tsubaki returns it, albeit a little strained. Her brain is whirring.

“Well, I’ll just see myself out,” she says. “Again, I’m so sorry – I should have called again – “

“Don’t worry,” Maka says with a wave of her hand. “Hey, sit down. Talk to me. It’s Saturday.”

“Um, ok.” Tsubaki perches nervously at the edge of an armchair.

“Hey, don’t look so scared. You didn’t interrupt anything, I promise,” says Maka, but her eyes are distant. Inwardly, Tsubaki narrows her own.

“No?” she asks.

“No,” says Maka, and shakes her head, dialing back into the present.

Tsubaki’s eyes dart from Soul, snoring softly on Maka’s chest, arms splayed around her, body resting on top of her closed legs, and then back to Maka. She decides to just go for it.

“Are you two…together?”

“Huh?” Maka frowns, and then her eyes widen a little before she chuckles quietly. “Like…that? No. No. We’re not a couple, Tsu.”

Could have fooled me. “Hm. I was beginning to have my suspicions,” she says lightly, smiling a little to make it clear she’s teasing.

“How?” Maka asks, smiling but to all appearances earnestly confused.

“Um…call it a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

“You two are together a lot, after all.”

“Yeah, I guess we are. That’s pretty normal, though, for a weapon-meister pair, isn’t it? Besides,” and her smile turns rueful and a little sad. “Men are…not very trustworthy.”

“You trust Soul, though, don’t you?”

“That’s not what I meant, Tsu.”

Tsubaki presses her lips together. “Well…if, hypothetically, the two of you were to, um, get together – not that you ever will,” she says quickly, at the little crease that appears between Maka’s eyebrows, “but if you did say something to Soul – I think he’d be more receptive than you think.”

Maka gives her a strange, guarded look. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tsubaki repeats, and gives her friend an encouraging smile.

Tsu stays a little while longer, chatting with Maka about classes and strawberry plants and Black Star’s new tendency to blast himself in the air with his soul wavelength in the middle of the hallways. It’s only when Soul starts stirring on Maka’s chest that she excuses herself, leaving with a wave.

In the hallway, she sighs. Ah, young love.

#soulxmakaweek #somaweek #somaweek2020 #soulxmaka #soma #soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #soul/maka #se by z #zxanthe writes sometimes

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theeyeofthetigger · 4 years

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Soma Week 2020 Day 5 - "We're Not Dating!!"

Someone should probably tell them they are.

#somaweek #soul eater #soma #maka albarn #soul eater evans #soma week 2020 #my art

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absent-angel · 4 years

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a minor fall (a major lift)

Fandom: Soul Eater

Summary: In the Black Room, the red ogre grins, serrated teeth gleaming in the dim light. It's a knowing—goading—look. "Don't you want to know?" he drawls. The record player skips, so erratic it's impossible to recognize the song beneath the needle. "Don't you want to ask?” [SoMa][Rated T][SoMa Week Day 1: Dare] @soulxmakaweek

Read it on ff.net

Word Count: 814

Warnings: Soul’s potty mouth.

It starts as a whisper.

A barely there feeling; a wish—a want—he can’t quite interpret. It tinkers on the keys of his soul, a disconnected melody he can’t (for the life of him) rearrange into something that makes sense.

It haunts him with a persistence that’s irritating as all hell, but it’s the vagueness that’s driving him crazy. It’s like walking into a room and forgetting what he went in there for, or recognizing a few notes but being unable to place the song. There’s something he wants, but he doesn’t know what.

In the Black Room, the red ogre grins, serrated teeth gleaming in the dim light. It’s a knowing—goading—look. “Don’t you want to know?” he drawls, eyes as sharp and maniacal as his laughter. The record player skips, so erratic it’s impossible to recognize the song beneath the needle. “Don’t you want to ask?”

Soul’s answer is yes and no, respectively. Of course he wants to know, but he’d rather walk through the desert ass naked than ask the ogre for anything, let alone help. The ogre laughs, a mad cackle that has the black blood stirring in response. Soul resigns himself to the fact that he’s going to be in a really pissy mood for the foreseeable future. At least until he figures it out.

Except, a week goes by—then two, then three—and he has to admit he hadn’t expected the ‘foreseeable future’ to be so damn long. His shitty mood earns him a handful of Maka Chops that may, or may not, have been deserved. Which, in retrospect, is a hell of a lot better than what he’s being forced into now.

Soul’s first mistake was being obvious enough for Black Star to pick up on his foul mood. His second was (grudgingly) agreeing to let the bastard help. His third—fuck, if only he could call it his final—mistake, was overlooking the fact that Black Star’s solution to everything is to throw a huge party and get blackout drunk.

Needless to say, Soul’s mood has not improved. At all.

“Asshole,” he grumbles, adjusting Maka’s weight against his back. She’s drunk—too much spiked punch and (clearly) not enough tolerance—and her response is a mumbled slur against his shoulder.

“S’not nice.” She tries to pinch him, but his leather jacket is too thick and her fingers are too clumsy. “Was trying to make you feel better.”

“I hate parties,” he reminds her, glaring at the back of a bicyclist as they speed passed just a little too close. He wonders why the hell someone would be riding their bike at one in the morning, but then he sees the guy nearly careen into a lamppost and he gets his answer. Right, just another one of Black Star’s victims. Soul scowls. “And I feel fine.”

“Liar.” The accusation is soft, teetering on the edges of sleep, but it’s firm enough to hold no room for arguments. Soul doesn’t want to test what an inebriated Maka Chop would feel like, so he (wisely) remains silent.

The night is pretty tolerable for Death City standards. Which is good, because there’s no way in hell he’s trusting his meister to stay on the back of his motorcycle right now, so it looks like he’s stuck walking the mile back to their apartment. It doesn’t take long before she’s nodding off, her cheek pressed fully against his shoulder. “Don’t drool on the leather,” he gripes, knowing she’s too far gone to listen. The only response he gets is a little snore, so tiny he probably wouldn’t have caught it if she wasn’t right next to his ear. Soul knows by the time they’re home it’ll be like a foghorn, but somehow it doesn’t stop a smile from teasing his lips. At least she had fun.

Her lips graze his neck as she mumbles in her sleep, a could-be kiss, and his whole body freezes.

It’s the sharp shattering of glass on the floor; the crashing of symbols against his ears. The missing notes that drove him crazy fill with the subtlety of a train wreck, and inside the black room a crescendo is building to deafening levels.

This. This is what he wants.

The press of her body against him, her breath burning against his pulse and her sighs echoing in his ears. Soul wants more than platonic hand holding and friendly hugs—he wants to know the feel of her lips, craves the taste of her skin. He wants her in ways beyond meister and weapon.

Soul is in love with Maka Albarn.

“Oh,” he breathes, pulse drumming in his ears. “Oh, shit.”

In the Black Room, the record stops skipping—the song sweet and soft and whole. When it reaches the end, a daring, solitary note rings out in invitation.

Waiting for him to answer.

#somaweek #somaweek2020 #soma fanfiction #soul eater fanfiction #my fanfiction

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just-absolutely-super · 4 years

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Listen To Your Heartbeat So I Know You're Alive

@soulxmakaweek

I DID IT! I FINISHED SOMA WEEK!

Bonus Day Heartbeat! Enjoy and thanks so much for the support, whether it was here, AO3, or FF.net

Summary: She couldn't exactly explain it, but the steady rhythm comforted her in a way nothing else could. It made her sigh in contentment because he was there. Alive and well…with her.

Warning: There are shades of PTSD and mentions of anxiety/panic attacks. If these themes discomfort you in any way please don’t feel obligated to read this.

FF.net // AO3

It all started after that fateful battle with Crona in Italy.

The trauma was enough to give her nightmares for weeks. She would relive that same moment over and over again. Only the outcome would be different. Instead of Professor Stein and her father coming to their rescue, Maka found herself sitting there with Soul’s lifeless body in her lap. Her hand would be placed over his bleeding chest as she’s forced to feel his pulse fade under it.

Ba-bump………ba-bump……………….ba-bump………………………………….ba-bump…

…………………………………..

It’s enough to wake her in the middle of the night, screaming until her throat was raw and her lungs burned. During those first few days, no one was there to comfort her. Blair often came home well into the night from working at Chupra Cabra to find the young girl sobbing hysterically on her bedroom floor.

“Soul’s gone!” she would cry into the magical cat’s chest, “He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone!”

“Shhh.” Blair would soothe, running her manicured fingers through her ash blonde locks, “He’s fine, Maka. Soul’s fine. He’s in the infirmary at the school, remember?”

It took a long time, but she would remember. And experiencing his death was only a dream.

Despite the reality that her partner was well and alive, the reminder that his heart could stop one day gave her so much panic. There were days this realization would give her an anxiety attack and she’ll begin hyperventilating.

She couldn’t let his heart stop. He was her weapon—her best friend! She had to protect him! Protect his heart!

So she vowed to be stronger for him. Soul rolled his eyes at her and told her she was doing everything backwards—why would you protect the thing that was meant to protect you—but she knew he didn’t understand. He just didn’t get it. But that was okay. Maka would admit she felt somewhat embarrassed with her reasoning why she was so determined to get stronger as a meister.

Her fascination with his beating heart sometimes led to awkward situations. Well, awkward for Soul at least.

There was the moment after Maka declared her resolve to get stronger where she placed her hand on his chest. She would reveal to him later on that she was vowing to face his scar, but truthfully she also wanted to feel his thrumming pulse under her hand.

Then there were those occasional moments, during the quiet of the evening, when Maka and Soul would be sitting on the couch and somehow Maka’s head found its way onto Soul’s shoulder. It was a sweet, tender kind of moment that Maka relished in, especially when she realized she could hear Soul’s heart if she tilted her head just right…

And then there were those times with the nightmares. It didn’t matter who they happened to, once the night terror was over, either Soul or Maka would find themselves in their counterpart’s bed. It wasn’t very “cool” as Soul put it, but neither cared because in their moments of vulnerability, they needed the reassurance that their partner was still alive. Maka especially, as she could hear her scythe’s heart loud and clear in the silence of the night.

Ba-bump…ba-bump…ba-bump…

She couldn’t exactly explain it, but the steady rhythm comforted her in a way nothing else could. It made her sigh in contentment because he was there. Alive and well…with her.

Eventually Soul caught onto what exactly it was about his chest that she was fascinated with, and learned to roll with it when the urge to be close to him took her over. She was thankful he never teased her in these moments. He understood her perfectly.

And he never complained either. Especially not after particularly rough battles.

They were gathering their 72nd soul for the second time around (damn Blair…). It wasn’t a particularly difficult kishin egg—pretty much your typical serial killer type. What Maka and Soul didn’t know, however, was that this evil being had a special talent with pyrotechnics…specifically bombs.

In a last ditch effort to thwart the meister-weapon duo, the pre-kishin threw off his trench coat to reveal an abundance of explosives strapped to his chest. If he was going down he was going to take the DWMA students with him!

Maka yelped as she struggled to scramble away. She managed to get some distance between herself and the evil soul but the amount of bombs he let off would produce such a large explosion there was no way she’d get off scot-free.

Soul knew this, so against Maka’s wishes he transformed into his human form and draped himself over his meister—willing a blade to form from his back in hopes that the metal would shield them from the brunt of the explosion.

Maka screeched as the bombs went off, feeling the ground scrape into her body as the force knocked her back many feet. She’s not sure, but she thought she had blacked out at some point. When she felt the ringing in her ears subside, she groaned and eased her eyes open. After gaining her bearings, she managed to lift herself up.

Examining her body, she saw that her clothes were dirty and tattered. Her gloves were stained red with her blood. She moved her extremities to make sure nothing was broken before prodding her head. She winced at some tenderness, hoping she didn’t have a concussion.

Next, she viewed her surroundings. The ground of the clearing they were in was scorched black; debris of different shapes and sizes surrounding her. Off in the distance she spotted the red floating soul of the pre-kishin, ready to be eaten by Soul.

Soul!

Maka frantically looked around. Didn’t he shield her? Why wasn’t he around? Where was Soul?!

Finally she spotted him a few feet to the left of her. The force of the explosion must have separated him from her. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw that his body was prone and it didn’t look like there was any sign of movement from him…

Was he even breathing?!

“Soul!” Maka cried, ignoring her aches and pains in favor of jumping up and sprinting to her fallen partner.

Upon reaching him, she fell to her knees—ignoring the sting from landing onto the hard ground—and turned him over onto his back. Her wide, green eyes looked his figure over.

Like her, he had multiple scrapes and cuts marring his skin, his clothes practically in shambles thanks to the fact he took the brunt of the explosion. There was a flat piece of rock lodged into his left thigh. Maka had a feeling he’ll need stitches for the wound. His face was blank though, his eyes closed and his skin looking a lot paler than Maka remembered.

Maka felt her breathing quicken, “No, no, no, no. Please be okay. Please be okay,” she pleaded as she grasped his shoulders, shaking them.

Bile rose to her throat but she bit it back. She couldn’t lose focus now, she had to help him somehow…

But he wasn’t moving, why wasn’t he moving?!

Panic clouded her brain. In hindsight, soul perception could have been used to indicate whether he was still alive or not, but the intense fear she felt overwhelmed any logic she may have had.

She couldn’t think…she couldn’t focus. All she wanted was for Soul to wake up and smile at her and tell her she was reckless and stubborn and a nerd and…and…

Unable to hold back anymore, a strangled sob tore through Maka’s throat as she fell onto her partner’s chest. She wailed—pleading, bargaining, begging for him to wake up.

“Don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me!” were her desperate cries. She didn’t know what she’d do if he actually left her. She was faced with that possibility almost a year ago, but since then they’d been fine. They had gotten stronger together. But now here they were, Maka reduced to that of a crying little girl while her best friend lay motionless underneath her.

What good was she?

Was her resolve all that time ago pointless?

She was an awful meister. A better meister wouldn’t have allowed this to happen. Soul deserved so much better than her!

She was so caught up in her despondent thoughts, she barely registered that there was a weight on the back of her head.

“’M okay…” came a hoarse voice before a ragged cough was choked out. “Not going…anywhere. J-Just listen, alright?”

Maka stiffened. She didn’t dare look up, afraid that her misery was producing a hallucination. When she registered his request for her to listen, she stopped everything, including breathing, as she strained her ears.

…ba-bump…ba-bump…ba-bump…

A fresh wave of tears welled in her eyes as she sobbed into her partner’s chest. He was alive. He was alive!

“Thank God… Thank God!”

She’s not sure how long they lay there—her crying until she couldn’t anymore while he silently stroked her head—but eventually Sid and Nygus came to retrieve them and took them to the dispensary at the DWMA. There, they shared a room, Soul insisting their beds be moved together so they could easily reach each other if need be.

She knew he only suggested that because she was too embarrassed to voice it. She was thankful though, because it was a good excuse to lie close to him and listen to his heartbeat while they both recovered.

“It’s the same for me.” He told her later, after Nygus left them for the evening.

“Huh?” she asked, on the verge of sleep.

“I like to listen to your heart too.” He confessed. “Reassures me you’re still there. That I did my job and protected you.”

Despite her eyes watering for the umpteenth time that day, she gave a small smile.

“Let’s keep protecting each other’s heartbeats, okay?”

He held her closer, his face burying into her hair.

“Deal.”

#soma #soul x maka #soulxmakaweek #somaweek2020 #somaweek #soul eater evans #maka albarn #soul eater #my writing #feels good to actually participate in the entire ship week #haven't done that since nalu week 2013

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female-wilbursoot-alter · 4 years

Conversation

Cooking Pasta with SoMa

Soul: Is it done?

Maka: Not yet

Soul: Is it done yet?

Maka: No

Soul: How about now?

Maka: No

Soul: It looks ready

Maka: No

Soul: Please?

Maka: No

Soul: I'm Hungry

Maka: No!

Soul: I give up, it's taking too long *leaves*

Maka: Aw but you're sexy when you cook.

Soul: *comes back* What?

Maka: Nothing!

Soul: You sure you didn't say anything. It definitely sounded like you said something

Maka: I didn't say anything.

#somaweek2020 #somaweek #Soma #Soul Eater

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lolo314 · 4 years

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Soma week is basically here and I'm dying.

#Somaweek #stressed and excited #soul x maka

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soulmaka-doodle-weekly · 5 years

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werewolf AU

when the mind of the human is devoured by the heart of the beast, when the thrill of the hunt pulls me by the fangs away from slumber and i forget what words are for, somewhere deep down in the place where the spark of life dwells, i’ll still know you. we’ll still be running together in the same direction. because the shape and form don’t matter at all, only the soul, and every iteration of mine will recognize every iteration of yours.

SoulxMaka Week 2019, Day 4: Instinct

#soul eater #soulxmaka #soulxmakaweek #somaweek #soulxmaka week 2019 #soma week 2019

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lanming-art · 1 year

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😳😳

SoMaWeek Day 3: Flustered 🤭

Well, I thinked a lot about this prompt. You know, we always put Soul on those kind of situation, where Maka is who put him nervous, and many scenarios was around on my head. So, I decided to make Maka some nervous this time hahahaha.🥰 Hoping you enjoy it.

Do not repost without credits, do not edit or erase the sign. ☺🥰

#anime #fanart #lanming art #tumblr draw #illustration #maka albarn #soul eater #soul evans #SoulxMakaweek #SoMaWeek2023 #SoulxMaka #SoMaLovers #Day 3: Flustered

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equalresonance-blog · 6 years

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SoMa Valentine's Day Post | Really Short Story

Valentine's Day, a day Soul had dreaded for a long time. It wasn't that he didn't have anyone to spend it with, for he surely did, the problem was that he wouldn't know what to buy for his romantic partner. What would she like? A book? No, that'd be too expected. Maybe if he'd write her a song— hell no, he'd probably get nervous and screw that up. Disheveling the ivory bed hair resting matted on his head, he brushed his bangs back with his fingers. What could he do for her that nobody else would do?

Then, when the add for the giant bears came on the television, the demon weapon had his idea.

Lugging a large, heavy teddy bear home was certainly going to be no easy task, however, red eyes glinted with determination. Soul was quite up for the challenge. It only took an hour instead of the usual twenty minutes to get home on his beloved Harley Davidson, Evangeline, and the scythe considered himself lucky that Maka was staying late at the local library. Excitement, anticipation, anxiety; all of these conflicting emotions ran though his bloodstream, adrenaline fueling him to drag the bear into their living room.

All of his money spent on gas and plush stuffing seemed to be worth it as Maka returned home, eyes widening as she opened the door. The look on her face was wonderful payment for the choke-hold hug she forced him through.

#I originally wrote this for a close friend of mine on Amino but decided to post it here too #I hope nobody minds how short it is lmao #soulmaka #soma #soul eater #anime #manga #somaweek-ish #Valentines Day

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waltzfor-zizi · 3 years

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Say It To The Camera [SoMaWeek 2021] Day 5: Domestic

I’ve been a bit behind, but I’m still trying fgsjgdgf

so have this 2k of Soul and Maka watching another Soul and Maka

@soulxmakaweek

Excerpts:

The camera focuses, revealing a handsome young man with silver white hair and hooded red eyes sitting on a sofa.

"Hey guys," he greets, tone calm and cool, if not a tad bit annoyed. "Today we're gonna do something a bit different, courtesy of my [redacted] older brother." He rolls his eyes.

"He's been irritatingly bugging me to watch this one series and I'm honestly just a second away from trying to choke him to oblivion. But since homicide is frowned upon, I decided to be the more mature brother and just watch the thing." He exhales as if this one task is very arduous. "So we're doing a reaction video of A Winter Solstice, first episode."

He stills and looks behind the camera as a faint feminine voice interrupts him.

[Editor: Don't forget about your other penalty, loser!]

The man scowls.

[Editor: Stop dilly-dallying, Soul.]

"Shut up, Liz." Soul's scowl deepens. But he smooths it back to his indifferent expression before speaking, "Right. We're having a guest with me today, as had been widely requested by all of you in all of my social media," he clicks his tongue as he leans back, sounding displeased.

"A lot of you had been pestering—"

[Editor: requesting]

"—requesting—," Soul parrots, huffing, "—to invite my roommate in my new videos." He pulls his lips into a flat line before continuing, "I've asked her, and she said yes, so…"

He waves at someone off-screen.

"Maka, c'mere."

A petite girl with ash-blonde hair in space buns gingerly makes her way to the sofa, waving a little shyly as she plops herself down beside Soul.

She wears a simple black skirt and baby pink shirt, along with what seems suspiciously like Soul's old orange letterman jacket. (Old fans would recognize it instantly as the iconic outfit he wore when he crushed Wolfree, another professional gamer known by his death-defying skills, in his last official gaming competition many years ago.)

"Hi, everyone. I'm Maka Albarn, Soul's roommate."

"And girlfriend," Soul adds automatically, eyes trained straight to the camera.

Maka rolls her eyes. "And girlfriend."

yes. this is a shameless, shameless self promotion

read the rest on AO3 ✨✨✨

#soulxmakaweek #SoMaWeek2021 #soul eater #Soul x Maka #solstitium #A Winter Solstice #zi writes

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