Ok everyone, bear with me. This is the first time ive posted for myself, so thinks might be a little off. Sebastian's Cat, your word will be in the next chapter, and anyone else is welcome to submit words for me to use!

ICE

She had wrapped her heart in ice like one would wrap a fragile package in bubble wrap. That had been one of the first things he had learned about her. Oh, she was kind and caring enough, always there for a friend, hell, sometimes for an enemy. But there was always that careful distance she kept between herself and others, that part of her that she shared with no one else. it had made resonating difficult in the beginning, until she got the hang of letting him in just as far as was necessary without letting him get too close. He watched that heart, watched it closely as it hung suspended in its frigid cage. for a crack that didn't appear.

Six years later, she walks across the living room, plops down on the couch beside him as he flicks through the channels. He stops to look at her, lips pulling into a smirk as he leans down for a kiss that she enthusiastically returns. She should have put walls up instead of ice if she had wanted her heart to remain untouched. Because that was ices' weakness.

It melted if you just turned up the heat.

BARK

They argued. A lot. No, really. Bickering was an almost daily habit, from who washed the breakfast dishes in the morning to who got to brush their teeth first at night. That wasn't to say that they fought; 'fight' was too strong of a word for what they did. Most of the time. Every so often they just needed to let off some steam, and that usually came in the form of standing nose to nose in the middle of whatever room they were in, neither one giving an inch or a decibel in their verbal volley. Recently, another element had been added to the mix; sexual tension. Not that the tension was anything new, just that it had never really been a component of their shouting matches.

"DAMN IT MAKA! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO FREAKIN' STUBBORN ALL THE TIME!"

"MAYBE IF YOU WEREN'T SO LAZY, I WOULDN'T HAVE TO GET ON YOUR CASE SO MUCH!"

"YOU'RE ALWAYS BITCHIN' AND COMLAININ'!"

"AND YOU'RE ALWAYS BARKING LIKE A LITTLE YAPPY MUTT THAT THINKS IT'S A BIG DOG!"

Red eyes glared into green, chests heaving and panting from the yelling. Suddenly, he smirked, pushing her into the wall as his mouth latched onto her neck, teeth biting into the pale, smooth skin.

"So whaddya say? Wanna find out if my bite's worse than my bark?"

HAIR

Her hair was ash blond, hanging pale and straight down her shoulders. Shiny and sleek, it was usually kept done up in what had come to be trademark pigtails, even if, as some pig headed morons said, that they made her look eight years old. Sometimes, when she wasn't busy ridding the world of monsters or cramming knowledge into her head at an alarming rate at school, she would let it out of the constricting elastics, and at those times it had a softer and more mature look that Soul liked.

HIs hair was stark white, a genetic anomaly that some found freakish, asking if he was nineteen or ninety. Thick and unruly, he had long since given up on trying to get it to conform to the cleancut standards of others. His style of choice was to pull what he could back in a headband, although that just resulted in the thick spiky chunks sitting higher on his head rather than hanging low on his neck. Sometimes, when he wasn't out doing his duty as a badass weapon or sleeping away hours of boring class time, he went without the headband, letting his hair fall into his face in a way that Maka liked, wanting to run her fingers through the unkempt looking mess.

But the way they loved their hair the most was when it was entwined on the same pillow, the strands mingling and tangling together, her blond and his white, merging to make its own unique color and style.

PRINTER

Soul, being a cool, laid back dude, (aka lazy), hated running errands. He especially hated running school related errands. If he was going to put his effort into something, he wanted it to be something that would benefit him. Being partnered up with Maka Alnerd meant that he was stuck tagging along with her all over the school, from one end to the other, on a never ending quest of I'm-Not-Being-Paid-To -Do-This-Shit. That was how they wound up in the basement, after his big mouthed meister volunteered them to print off some flyers. Standing next to Maka as she fiddled with the buttons on the plastic and metal hunk of prehistoric technology, an idea struck him on how to make this trip into something worth the effort. Maka noticed the smile that spread like cheap butter across his face.

"Soul, whatever you're thinking, no. Just. No."

"Aw, c'mon, it's not that bad! At least hear me out!"

Maka adjusted the stack of paper, then turned to lean against the wall with her arms crossed, signalling that he had her attention.

"You know how everyone takes dick pics with their phone cameras?"

"Yeeess" she hissed, remembering the incident that had led to her deleting Black*Star's name from her phone permanently.

"Well, that's just a new take on an old joke. Behold, the grandfather of the dick pic; the butt scan!"

Maka rubbed the bridge off her nose. "So you're saying you want to drop your pants and smack your butt up here for it to be copied? So you can go around flashing that to people?"

"Learn to live a little, bookworm. You don't even have to watch. Just turn around and I'll tell you when I'm done."

Without waiting for a response, he unbuckled his pants, letting them along with his boxers drop to the floor. Maka was left to stare at two handfuls of the finest specimen of male ass she had ever seen. A tingling feeling pooled in her lower stomach, her panties growing damp as she rubbed her thighs together. What was it he had said? Live a little? Alrighty then.

Soul felt two arms snake around his waist, hands reaching between his legs to grasp him firmly."Hey Soul? Lemme check your cartridge."

DIRT

The life of a weapon/meister team was a hard one, not for the weak-willed or faint of heart. At least, it wasn't if you did your job right. Maka and Soul did, taking their training more seriously than most after all they had been were of the opinion that you could never be too prepared, that it was always best to keep your skills fresh and sharp. They never missed a training session, as was made evident by the ease with which they pulled off high level missions. Everyone admired their dedication, and it wasn't unusual to see them out on the training grounds late into the night. It also wasn't unusual to see them sweat soaked and covered in dirt from their efforts.

That was why, when Sid spotted them stagger out from the trees, bodies braced against each other, covered from head to toe in dirt and leaves sticking out of their hair, he wasn't concerned. "Hey you two! looks like you had a rough training session! Better head inside and get cleaned up!" and with a smile and a wave he had walked off, leaving a confused weapon and a heavily blushing meister behind him.

Soul turned to Maka, frowning. "You mean we were scheduled to train today?"

She adjusted her skirt, making sure it wasn't still hiked up. "Shaddup, Soul."

GENDER

They stood in the parking lot, the object of their heated debate between them. The sleek orange motorcycle sat catching the last rays of the setting sun, an innocent looking enough scene, no one would ever guess that it would be such a bone of contention for the two that had been riding it for years. It had started with an innocent slip of the tongue, when Soul mentioned that Francine needed to have her brakes checked. Maka had peered at him suspiciously, asking, in a hurt voice, who the hell Francine was. Soul's cheeks had darkened to the color of his eyes. His secret out, he muttered that he had always thought of the bike as Francine.

"Soul, don't be silly!" she had giggled, continuing before he could retort that a lot of guys named their bikes. "That's no way to talk about Marcus!"

"...What. Did you just call my sweet girl Marcus?"

"He's always been Marcus to me. Anyone can see that this is a boy bike."

"You're off your nut if you can't see that this is a lady."

"Boy."

"Girl."

"Boy!"

"Girl!"

"BOY!"

"GIRL!"

"Soul, this bike is obviously a male! Check under the hood if you don't believe me!"

"...THERE'S NOT A HOOD TO CHECK UNDER! AND I STILL SAY IT'S A GIRL!"

"No need to yell, it was just an expression! How are we going to decide what to call it if we can't even agree on its gender?"

Soul dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. "Who knows. I don't even know how to deal with this anymore."

Their eyes met as a look of understanding passed, both knowing exactly what to call the bike. They smiled, speaking in unison.

"Crona!