A/N: Okay, this one came out much better than I had anticipated. Although ff is making my writing all butchered, I hope you can still read it, understand and enjoy it none the less. Happy reading (:
Fairytale
Soul remained mute as Maka opened her mouth to speak, an amused smirk playing across his lips as he settled into the couch beside his meister. Taking a breath, she began. "When I was a little girl my dad used to read me different fairytales. No story was ever the same and once I'd heard one I wouldn't hear it again unless I asked. The only thing each had in common was the leading female. She was strong; blonde haired and bright eyed and never took a hardship as something she did wrong. Nope, she faced whatever trial and she damn well made her own happy ending." Maka paused, soft smile taking over her lips before she touched her fingertips together. "I think, my dad wanted me to grow up with the sense that I was and should never be a princess waiting for her prince charming to rescue her. Certainly, I couldn't see myself as one of those either." She said, looking up so their eyes met. "But, it's nice to be saved every once in awhile." Maka concluded.
Color Me In
"Because you paint in all the blank spaces with vivid color and it makes me realize my life has meaning; more than being a child of war and blood and even better than acceptance. You give me strength I never realized I had. It may seem cliché but you filled in my plot holes with things that made sense. I owe you my happiness, my heart and my soul. If only because you complete me." Maka finished demurely, cheeks stained vivid red as she tore her gaze away from the letter in her hands to meet the wine red gaze of her partner. "You colored my world in too." He replied softly.
Detailed Exceptions
"You've always got one foot in and the other out the door." Maka accused playfully, referring to Soul's willingingness to be there and then bolt when it seemed fit. He wasn't the type to stick around when things got chaotically emotional. It was probably why she had those raging feminist moments where all she wanted to do was punch the next guy who smiled arrogantly at her in the face. Granted there was only one guy who could smile at her like that and walk away without a broken nose but details, details.
Pride
She can't decide if its a good thing or a bad thing that she kind of likes the way he stares at her. With that expression and gaze, she's pretty sure she knows what's on his mind. It makes her want to smile and curl her toes up in satisfaction. She's the one he's looking at, and somewhere in the back of her mind she wants to roll her bright green eyes and remind herself that pride is a sin. But she can't help it when he looks at her like that.