#but lord how my soul was transfixed by mini pockets

[bibottes]

While looking for a video to tell me the correct order to sew doll pants (crotch first, thank you) I found a jean tutorial that was so in depth… so detailed… I have no excuse not to add little pockets and seam details and belt loops

[twilighcreed]

Title: Wolves Bane

Pairing: Daenerys Targaryen X Male Stark Reader

Author: TwilighCreed/DawnWrites

Word Count: 3.9k+ 

Warning: Violence, blood, use if curse words, mentioned alcohol, alcohol abuse, depression, slight subtle suicidal thoughts, spoilers for season one, graphic. 

Summary: Y/N Stark was forced into exile after helping three fugitives escape beyond The Wall from King Robert. Four years after his exile, he receives news that Lord Arryn is dead and his family could be in immense danger. After accepting an offer to help get him home to his family, Y/N is to work for Magister Illyrio Mopatis and protect the princess, Daenerys Targaryen. What the lone wolf did not expect was to fall in love with a women he could never have…  

Author Notes: I apologize for the delays and you having to wait so long! Life has just hit me and it’s honestly taking all my time, and since I just moved I won’t have internet for another month. :( I know, I know! And I though I’d give you what I had so far for the first part (you’ve waited long enough). The other two chapters are gonna be longer than this, so maybe about 5k for the next two! I promise this mini series is gonna be finished, it’s just gonna take time. Thank you for your patience and time! Enjoy the first chapter! :) p.s. sorry if their are any mistakes! I checked several times but their might some slip ups!

Part One ► Pilot   [HERE] Part Two ► The Dragon’s Bodyguard  [NEXT] Part Three ► The Lone Wolves Howl   Part Four ► The Rouge Wolf of the North

The night was cold and dark, full of terrors beyond one’s imagination. The forest slept wistfully, a quiet midnight melody luling the beast of the night into a deep slumber, rocking it’s leaves and settling a light fog among the fallen leaves and branches of the earth, stretching it’s long fingers and clawing at the  frozen ground. The only sound was the rush of a nearby river, and the distant rusle of running footsteps…

One… two….three…. four figures ran across the dead leaves, abruptly to sleeping willows and creatures to a startling sound, wakening the surrounding forest with their ragged breath and panicked steps. They seemed lost, unable to keeping their bearings, their only objective was to get away from the shadows following them with the bright glow of torches and the barks of dogs. They wore rags as clothes, the only thing keeping them warm was the heavy set furs, but even that was like parchment against the raging storm that was about the decend on the helpless. Only one of the four wore clothes unlike the other, instead it was armoor and a heavy fur draped his shoulders, providing him warmth against the plummeting temperatures; only he knew the way to safety, only he was the sole hope they had of escaping  of jaws of unjust law from the King of the Realm, King Robert Baratheon.

“Hurry!”  the young boy in armor called out to his companions. Looking over his shoulder to see the struggling frames of the fugitives; his eyes wandered beyond them to see the hill behind, a bright transfixed glow from the hunters torches, revealing their closing position—no doubt from his father—men that had gathered to hunt the three criminals.

It was a manhunt. One that would end in all four of their deaths if caught, but, the young boy was determined to get them to safety. Beyond The Wall, safely from the clutches of King Robert and even his Lord father, all he had to do was get them to Eastwatch, there he had a friend who would smuggle them across. All he had to do was get them there… but with the shouts of men and barks of bloodhounds, even Y/N Stark was afraid they would never make it.

298 AC, The Free Cities of Essos, Braavos

A harsh and pinching sting sent Y/N out of his seat, landing harshley on the wooden floors of the tavern, jaw aching and the copper taste of blood in his mouth sent the man into an angry spiral of aggression covered by a facade of calmness. With a grunt and some effort, Y/N picked himself up off the ground and stood on two feet. Looking up at the tall bruat; his face twisted in angry, no doubt directed at Y/N.

He was a large dark skinned man with a fat lower lip and a crooked nose. His eyes twitched in anger and his lip curled back in a snarl, showing his ugly yellow teeth underneath. He lacked any facial hair, he was completely clean of hair except the little above his eyes. He was shirtless, the only pair of clothing he had were his deep royal purple trousers—that almost acted as another layer of skin, only it was cloth,—and his leather sandals. On his hip was a curved steel blade, short almost like a dagger, but long enough to wield like a sword.

Unquestionably Y/N recognized the man from a deal struck not so long ago on the shores of Tyrosh. It was a bargain between Y/N and the pirate: get him to Braavos undetected from authorities and he’d pay them handsomely with gold. That was the deal, but since Y/N notice how light his pockets were, he needed time to collect the desired amount, and since Essos regulated their currency mostly by slave trade and not coins, it was much harder.

“Was that really appropriate?” Y/N sneered, nursing his bruised jaw with a light rub of his hand, taking a moment to look around his surroundings and at the two other men behind his aggressor.

“Where is the gold?” the Captain spoke in broken words, his thick accent heavy.

Y/N glanced over at his side, near the foot of the stool sat a leather bag. Inside had the northerners belongings, including the gold, however it was just enough, and if Y/N gave him what he has, it would leave him with nothing.

Y/N looked back at the man. Reaching down, he plucked the satchel from the floor and reached inside, pulling out a small pouch of the gold promised.

The Captain seemed pleased, his posture slightly relaxing, his eyes kept on the bag instead of the devious plan unfolding before his very eyes. Even the other two behind seemed entranced by the sound of coins in his hand.

“Here is what was promised.” Y/N said, about to place the pouch in his open palm. “On second thought…” placing the pouch in his coat, Y/N reached over grabbing his full tankard, and slammed the heavy beverage into the side of the man’s head.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

With an easy distraction, Y/N clutched his bag close to his side and darted for the door. 

He would be a fool to believe it would be that easy.

“You’re gonna pay for that, you slimy son of a bitch!”

One of the  pirates—taller of the two—unsheathe his sword; swinging at Y/N’s head. With precision, Y/N ducked away just as the blade passed over him, giving time for the shorter (and smaller one of the three) to pull out his daggers, and toss them in the direction of Y/N. Narrowly missing the two daggers, Y/N made a dash to the door when a figure step in front of him.

With a vertical swing to cut Y/N in half, Y/N back stepped just at the right moment, the steel blade embedding itself into the wood with a loud clang—the Captain glaring.

“Too soon?”

The Captain gave a shout, and Y/N knew if he did not get away, certainly this man would have his head.

Taking several steps back, Y/N looked about, much of the bottom half of the tavern had cleared of any life, a few dearing souls stayed to watch his possible doom, most of them leaned over the rails of the second floor, watching with wide eyes.

Backing himself into an escapable corner, Y/N watched as the three started to close in on him, weapons of choice in hand and a lust for blood in their eyes—his blood. With quick eyes he looked all around, his eyes landing on a wooden fixture that hung from the ceiling, acting almost like a chandelier that spread out into different directions, almost like several crosses molded together, each end holding a lit candle.

Pulling out his steel sword, Y/N got into a defensive stance. 

No matter how much training he had received as a young boy, he would never be able to take on three men simultaneously. Maybe three guards, but not experienced pirates such as the ones he faced now.

“Your times is up pretty boy. I’m gonna gut’cha like a fish!” the Captain mocked, his lips pushed up in a smirk.

With a quivering hand; glancing between the three figures, Y/N watching as their features turned into a crooked pleasure, a pending victory about to come.

“I wouldn’t be so sure!”

With a toss of luck, Y/N threw the satchel in the direction of the wooden chandelier; the leather strap getting caught by an oddly needed hook in the decorative wood. The newly added weight making the chandelier rock back and forth.

With their eyes now on the bag, Y/N took the opportunity to swing at his nearest opponent—the tallest. 

Lunging forward, Y/N tipped the man off guard, sending him off his balance just enough for  Y/N to gain the upper hand and swipe his feet from underneath him, the pirate toppling onto the floor.

Hearing the heavy footsteps behind him, Y/N side-step just as a sword of the Captain came down where his head was. Elbowing the Captain hard in the ribs, he heard a gasp and then a grunt before getting out of the way of another swing. Repositioning himself, Y/N parried an oncoming lung, pushing against the blade, Y/N was able to throw the man backwards giving Y/N a slight edge. With a hacking attack, the Captain was forced to go on the defense allowing Y/N a small opening, with a true twist of his blade, Y/N was able to nick the Captains neck, a small stream of blood leaving the open wound.

Placing a large hand on the cut, the Captain looked down at his bloody hand, a vengeful glint in his eyes, “You bastard! Now I’m really gonna kill ya’!”

The Captain swung his curved blade horizontally, forcing Y/N to duck away, he got behind the Captain. Quickly standing up, Y/N slashed a thin line across the Captains back making him howl in pain, and with a swift strong kick, the Captain went barreling into the tallest of his henchmen.

Suddenly, two daggers landed right in front of him, the tips of them dug into the wooden beam beside him. Turning his head in the direction they came from, he narrowly missed another dagger throw at him.

“Where do ya’ think ya’ going?” a much higher pitch voice spoke with a slight lisp.

Sliding down to his nearest cover, Y/N pushed over a table onto its side, using it as a shield just he heard two more daggers hit the wood.

How many more does this man have?, Y/N though.

Peeking over just a tad, the pirate had gotten closer, throwing another small dagger his way, Y/N ducked, the unmistakable sound of steel impaling wood behind him. Pushing the table forward in a rush, he rammed the pirate into the wall just behind him. 

Hearing a grunt from the man, Y/N quickly got up; reached over and slammed a wooden chair over the man’s head, sending him into a state like comma. 

Turning around, Y/N dodged an attack by the taller pirate. A wild look in his eyes, he lazily swung his sword, hoping for a hit to injure Y/N, but with his sloppy footwork, Y/N was able to lock their blades together and with slight hesitation, head butting the man. An expected sharp and brutal pain burst inside his skull, his vision going slightly hazy and his balance wobbly.

Maybe that wasn’t a good idea…

“Arghh!”

Reeling around, Y/N caught sights of the Captain rushing after him, but before he could counter or step away, a hard and bitter pain spread like wildfire in his face causing him to stumble backwards, but before he could fall, a pair of hands clamped around his throat and he could feel his body being lifted up off the ground and then slammed into a hard surface—he could hear cracking of wood—and his back exploding in pain; his chest tight and any air he had left was gone.

“You northerners are too much trouble—I should have killed you when given the chance!”

And with that said, Y/N could feel his vice-like-grip tighten around the soft flesh of his throat, cutting off any hope of air supply. Slightly wide eyed and panicking, Y/N gasp for a breath, hoping to suck in any air. He could already feel the blood rushing in his head. 

In a weak attempt, Y/N tried to pry his fat fingers away but to no avail. Without breaking eye contact, Y/N reached out his right hand, feeling the area he was on, searching for anything to use as a weapon.

The Captain leaned over Y/N, pressing more of his weight against his hold—Y/N was sure he would break his neck if he added any more, and with a toothy yellow grin, he spoke in a low, almost taunting whisper, “Nighty-night, pretty boy.”

With the last of his strengths, Y/N gave a deep grunt in reply and with his fingers curled around the tip of a glass bottle, swung as hard as he could at the man’s head, breaking the glass instantaneously on impact. With the man now disorientated, Y/N was able to break free and out of his grasp. Kicking the man down, Y/N allowed himself a moments of rest to catch his breath, gasping really, while he rubbed his sore and bruised throat, coughing.

Once some of his strength returned, he reaching down and picked up his sword, turning, he placed the tip of his blade against the man’s throat, shaking.

“I should kill you…” Y/N rasp out, his eyes hard and his face even harder.

Adding more pressure, he watched as the Captains eyes widen when he broke the skin, painting the tip of his blade with fresh blood. Leaning down like the Captain did a few moments ago, Y/N mocked the man.

“If I ever see you again, no matter where or when, I will stain the streets with your blood… I will not give you mercy that I have so generously given you today…” Y/N threaten, “Do you understand?”

The Captain gave a nod.

Straightening his posture, Y/N placed his sword back into his leather sheath on his hip, and with hard feet, he walked over to the closest table underneath the wooden chandelier. He climbed up, grabbed his satchel and jumped down. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out several gold coins and tossed them onto the bar-table.

“Sorry for your troubles…”

And with that, Y/N disappeared into the evening sun in the beautiful streets of Braavos.

Y/N let out a deep groan as he pushed the ice cold bottle of wine against his forehead, switching between his head and jaw on occasion. I had been several hours since the fight and he can feel the aches and bruises of the fight he had not felt at the time, he was so lost in the rush he didn’t notice the gash just above his eyebrow and the busted lip and bloody nose, he was honestly just a mess, and all he wanted at that moment was a nice warm bed and the tending care of his mother’s soft hands… He felt an ache in his chest.

Y/N sighed.

He sat lazily on the docks of Purple Harbor, his feet dangling off the side just above the waters surface, inhaling the salty sea air and the calming dance of the water. He watched as the sun started to set just above the horizon, bright warm colors mixing together to create a breathtaking view. Bright reds, oranges, purples and yellows coming together in a beautiful mixture, it’s colors getting richer and deeper the more the sun started to creep past the sea’s horizon. 

It reminded him of Westeros, in the south they had beautiful sunsets. It stretch for miles to one mountain and to the other. He could recall those as a little boy at his father sides, riding along on The Kingsroad. You never really got to see such colors in the north where his home was, but if you traveled far enough south you might be able to catch one.

It was a habit he enjoyed along with his brother younger Jon. 

When the two boys would be caught doing something mischievous, they would run to the broken tower just northeast of the great hall, and for hours they would sit up on top, bonding, waiting for enough time to pass before they would go down and brace themselves for whatever was to come. And if they were lucky, Robb would join them on their trickery, and all three of them would get it. Brotherhood, it was what kept them all close, even his little sister Arya.

The though of home made the lone wolf even more lonesome. 

He missed the fresh snow he’d wake up to every morning, the smell of the bakeries fresh rise of bread at day break, the hammer on steel in the blacksmith’s anvil, even his mothers scoldings. He missed his fathers teaching, “The ways of becoming a Lord.”, he called them. Jon’s and Robbs lessons with Ser Rodrik, his sisters Sansa warm smile whenever he’d make her laugh after a rough day, as she got older she didn’t smile as much, boys started to distract her, and boy was Y/N in for it. He especially missed his younger sister Arya’s warm bear hugs she’d give him whenever they were alone, and the sweet, sweet sound of Rickon’s laugh as he held the youngest of his siblings.

Every memory he had of Winterfell was pleasant and brought him warmth, but whenever he thought of his land, and the deed he had done: a cold bitter grip would wrap around his heart and tear it in two, breaking the poor man’s souls into even smaller fragments, and all through the night he would pick each one up with each tear, and peace them all back together, one-by-one, and when he was done, all that is left is the hurting shell of a young broken boy.

But no matter how much he missed home, he never regretted helping the innocent people from the injustice of King Robert Baratheon’s  authority. The only thing he could regret was the look that haunts his dreams: his mother’s heartbroken face, the sudden depression and unbearable pain of loss of her firstborn and his fathers stone cold disappointed, grief stricken eyes. He’d never forgot that…

With another deep, lonesome sigh, Y/N took a large swing from the cold wine. Maybe if he drank enough tonight, he might be able to drink himself into a stupor and maybe, just maybe… he would never wake up from it…

“My, my… it seems even the strongest of northernmen wolves have their… weaknesses.”

Before Y/N’s own mind could comprehend his own actions, he found himself garbing his swords hilt and jumping to his feet, stance at the ready, sword pointed at the intruder. All of this of course with an intoxicated mind.

In front of him stood a figure, dressed in a cloak that obscured the person’s identity. They were short, and rather harmless looking, his posture was straight and from the looks of it, he was a man of wealth by his plump and pudgy physique. From the outwards appearance, he seemed to have a calm and relaxed demeanor. He also seemed unarmed, from the looks of it. Somewhere beneath his robes he could have a dagger for all he knows, and with a quick whiff of the nose, Y/N smelt something rather odd: perfume.

With watchful eyes, Y/N looked the man up and down before glancing around the docks. If there was one thing he learned at Ser Rodricks lectures: always know your surroundings. The last thing he needed at his moment was to be set up in a trap.

Sword still drawn, “Who are you?” Y/N commanded.

The man seemed to smile in his words. 

“Ah, forgive me young Lord Stark—it is alright if I call you that?”

Y/N tensed, his grip on hilt of his sword tighten and he fixed his posture almost instantaneously, his jaw locked and his mind racing with thought, all of it going back to his past life.

“How do you know who I am? Who are you? Answer me!” he almost shouted, his voice getting higher and higher by each word.

Y/N was so sure he had covered his tracks when he left Westeros. He changed his name, allowed his facial hair to grow, dressed much differently, talked in a manner his mother would frown upon, he changed everything about himself to never be found. 

How after all these years?

The man let out a deep lighthearted chuckle. Lifting his hands in a slow fashion he pushed back the cowl he wore revealing his face to Y/N.

Varys.

“Surprised? I was hoping you would be. You are a hard man to find, but, with the right eyes, you can easily part the wolf from the sheep, especially a Stark.” Lord Varys smiled. Taking in the young mans appearance, Vary’s was rather taken back at how much the Stark boy changed. No longer was he the respectable, honorable boy his father raised him to be, instead stood a man lost in the world, savage and untamed.

“What do you want?”

“I simply want to help you.”

Y/N narrowed his eyes, suspicious of the spymasters motive. Y/N did have every reason to mistrust the man. He never liked him, though he did find him somewhat of an interesting person, but never enough to trust.

“Why?”

Vary’s turned towards the water, taking steps towards its edge, he ignored the swords close presence, instead his eyes focusing on the Titan that stood guarding Braavos harbor entrance from the Shivering Sea.

“A marvelous structure, isn’t it? When I was but a slave boy, I used to hear talk among the other boys and girls, how the Titan stood for much more than just the city, but freedom from masters and chains. Braavos is the only city without slaves, so they say.”

Y/N watched the man, slightly lowering his sore arm.

“Why are you telling me this? You still haven’t answer my qe—”

“You want to go home, do you not?”

No words could describe the sudden feeling that pledged Y/N heart. Was it joy? Happiness? Relife? Perhaps pain? The thought alone of returning to his homeland brought him comfort, for so long he had been denied any sort of happiness after his exile, any warmth and safety was striped away and he was tossed into a wicked world that he had to learn or else the inevitable would happen. He was vulnerable. He wonder how his family would react if they received word of his death. He gulped, unable to speak a word.

Vary’s watched the boys eyes, the obvious desperation and thought of home evidence of his depression and longing for home. It was what he expected, but he could see something in his eyes holding the boy back from falling on his knees and begging to go to his family.

“You hesitate.”

As if struck by his words, Y/N quickly looked away in shame; his sword limp by his side. If truth be told Y/N was lost but most of all he was afraid.

“I can not go home. The King would have me killed before I step one foot off the boat. Even you can’t save me.” Y/N said, sheathing his sword into its leather confinements. He started to pick up his belongings, stuffing the wine into his bag he tossed it over his shoulder, reaching for his cloak when he was stopped by Vary’s words.

“Not even to save your family?”

Turning around, a sudden anger morphed his features into a cold stoic. Y/N’s jaw tensed and he took dangerous steps towards the spymaster, his hand grasping the fabric of his clothing, pulling Varys so close even the Lord could smell the wine on Y/N breath. Varys felt weary of the wolf’s anger, he’s never seen such furry in the boys eyes.

In a low, suppressed enmity voice, Y/N spoke,  “Do not use my families lives so you can have me as a pawn in your foolish games. I will not have it! Threaten them again, and I will finish what that sorcerer in Myr didn’t.”

Varys went pale.

“I thought so…”

Letting Varys go in an aggressive manner, Y/N turned around and walked down the docks, heavy in steps, his shoulders square and his eye’s fuming. He wasn’t prepared for what was to come.

“Lord Arryn is dead!”

Y/N stopped.

“Robert is travelling to Winterfell to ask your father to become Hand of The King. I fear if your father accepts, the realm will be at war! Stark and Lannister blood with be shed! Your family needs you Y/N!”

Photo Credit(s): [X] [X]

Disclaimer: I do not own the Game of Thrones pilot, characters, events, or any reference to the TV show or George R.R. Martin’s books series, all credit goes to creators. I only own my own plot twist. (2018)  

Tag(s): @tybg400

                                                                                                January 15, 2018

[oblivion-time]

Card Captor Sakura AU

Happy birthday @mrsashketchum! I hope you've a wonderful day with lots of cake and happiness! Hope you enjoy this thingy I wrote for you.

In which Soul returns to Death City unannounced and Tsubaki has made a movie of Maka's growth as the cardcaptor of the Maka cards.

"How could you be so darn stupid!" Soul laughed loudly as he leaned backward on the chair inside of Tsubaki's secret cinema, balancing on the hind legs. He munched with his mouth open on some popcorn from the bowl resting in his lap. "Everybody knows light is the only way to beat shadow!" he snorted loudly as he shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth. "Geez, how the heck did you even manage to capture all the cards?"

"I was just starting out." Maka mumbled under her breath, hot flush dusting her cheeks.

"It's common logic! How else did you fight the darkness when you were younger? With water?"

"You're the one talking. How many cards did you even capture, huh?" she growled under her breath, fists bawling the hem of her skirt.

His laughter came to an abrupt ending, heat visibly spreading on his cheeks.

Throughout her journey as the cardcaptor, Soul had been more of a partner than a rival and they both knew it. Only in the beginning, he had been her rival, but even then, he was always helping her out and teaching her how to capture the cards. The barely handful of cards he acquired, he didn't explicitly say it, but it was apparent to her in their later stage of their unofficial "partnership" that he didn't even want the cards. It wasn't until she was close to the end of her card-capturing journey when he revealed, he wasn't that interested in being a cardcaptor. He preferred playing on his piano than putting his life on the line to capture some cards he knew his brother could do better, but it was his turn to make a name in the Evans family and preserve their family heritage.

Looking back from the moment she opened the curious book in their basement to now, she was surprised how much she had grown. Not only had she discovered the courage she never even imagined she possessed, but she became more daring and independent. She made so many new friends and deepened the bounds she already had.

She was so lucky to have met Soul and Liz, laughed even at the memory of Liz's storming inside of Soul's apartment, bag dropping to the floor and a wide grin on her face at the view of her in Soul's clothes due to her own getting soaking wet after falling into the lake. Then she spoke those words that kept on ringing in her mind over and over again like a broken record "well, well, I think I can drop the act of being your fiancée, can I?"

Liz had explained in detail (oh how she hated those details thinking back at them) how back at home in New York, Soul was very popular with the girls. Letters had flooded his family's mailbox, the doorbell rang every day with girls wishing to see him. Soul had been driving himself insane until one day, Liz stormed inside of his room, thrusting a golden band in his face. She had pretended to be engaged with him to chase away the girls and give him some peace of mind. That was what friends were for, Liz had explained.

"This is one of my favourite one out of them all."

Maka lifted her gaze back toward the screen, instantly a blush blossomed on her cheeks. On the screen was her latest "fight". Her classmate, Hiro, who had turned out to be the reincarnation of Lord Death, cast a spell on the sky, forcing every nonmagical human to fall asleep. Her brother Black*Star had fallen asleep and so did Tsubaki, but she didn't think her camera had actually managed to catch any footage of the fight.

She saw herself on the screen, the new staff in her hand after absorbing Blair and Kid, light surrounding her. Soul stumbled toward her, supporting himself on his sword before he crashed into her, hands clasping her staff. The angle was of their backs and she couldn't see his lips caressing the shell of her ear as he whispered words of encouragement in her ear. The cards floating in the air was consumed by light and officially turned into Maka cards.

The scene kept on playing on the screen, Maka transfixed as she kept on watching it, Soul equally speechless beside her. The dark sky ceased to exist when the light card was activated and the spell was broken. Quickly after that, the screen turned black and the mini cinema was once again dark.

Only a minute or two of more footage, footage she knew Tsubaki had to have but cut out from the mini movie to spare her. Soul had desperately been reaching out for her, stopping her from going after Hiro. His grip on her was frantic, nails digging into her flesh as if she would disappear if he let go. His mouth opened and closed before he burst, "I like you!" he screamed at her.

"Soul, if you could, I think it would be great if you played the piano so I could use it for the final scene." Tsubaki spoke as she had turn on the lights.

Maka didn't dare to looks. Confusion still clouded her mind when it came to Soul. How couldn't she have seen the signs? She… he always teased her about her lack of bosom and her fat ankles and her interest in books and school― and he like-liked her? Well, she had noticed his scold that seemed to be permanently glued onto his face from time to time, now when she thought about it, it always seemed to appear when Hiro was present.

No… it couldn't be.

He- he really genuinely liked her?

She had to admit, when she saw him, she did grow warm and her palms grew sweaty. When he gave her his rare and special smiles, showing off his teeth, it did something with her. It was as if a flock of butterflies hatched from their cocoons and flew around in her belly. When he returned to New York, she missed him. The teddy bear he had given her offered her some comfort, smelling his scent still lingering on the bear had reminded her how… how real they were. She didn't appreciate the friendship they had until he returned home. The cards were all captured and turned into Maka cards, there was no longer a reason for him to stay in Death City. There was no reason for them to see each other ever again.

But he had returned!

He just popped up in front of her out of the blue!

Soul always admired her courage, but she didn't have enough to confess to him before he left, now, she couldn't afford to cower away. This heart-racing and body-heating and stomach-fluttering feeling couldn't go on without being voice. At least once.

Who knew if he even were to ever return again.

"Uh," Soul smacked his tongue against his gum, a habit she had discovered when he was trying to think of what to say. "Um, okay? I guess."

"Great." A wide smile spread on Tsubaki's face. "I'll make all the arrangements. You can play your piece tomorrow! I want you both to see the finished version before Soul returns home."

"Yeah…" Maka sighed, standing up from her seat. "I need to go home. It's soon dinner time and I promised Black*Star I would help out."

"I'll come with you." Soul said, standing up from his chair suddenly. Maka's eyes widened at the fast gesture. "Um, I mean, Wes's probably waiting for my anyway so."

"Oh, okay." Tsubaki nodded understandingly. "I'll call you tomorrow, Soul."

"Cool." Tsubaki followed them to the door and they said their goodbyes before they started heading home. Maka's eyes fluttered with confusion when he started heading in the same direction as her. He read her mind at once and murmured he could walk her home.

Her cheeks heated at his shoulder bumping into hers. She hadn't yet given him an answer. This was her chance. This was a golden opportunity for her to confess his importance in her life and how much she enjoyed his presence, even missed and craved for it as if he was her favourite book she just couldn't get enough of. She… she treasured him so much.

They went in silent. They neared her home too close for comfort. Her throat ran dry as they went through the penguin park.

She had to tell him.

Now.

"S-Soul." she stuttered as she came to a stop in front of the penguin king. He halted and faced her, hands still shoved in his pockets. Silence hung heavy between them as he gave her his full attention. "I… I… There is something I…"

"Yeah…?" he encouraged her, taking a step closer to her.

It was as if her vocal cords tied knots and the words refused to leave her mouth. What would she even say? What were words again?

"Soul…" she wet her lips. She just had to say something― anything! "… I missed you." she mentally facepalmed. Out of all the things she could've said, she said that.

His facade of apathy slowly melted away and a soft smile played on his lips. "I missed you too."

"It was… a while since I saw you last."

"Yeah… a couple of weeks." Silence fell between them. "How was your summer?" he asked eventually.

"Good. No card trouble at all."

"That's good."

"How was your summer?"

"Good. It was nice to see my parents again."

"Good… very good." Maka said, nervously fiddling with the hem of her skirt. She should just say it. She needed to just say it! She knew before summer arrived, Soul felt the same way, maybe even feel the same way. Deep down within him, there was a part that genuinely cared about her. Showing him her feelings wouldn't hurt her. Soul cared about her.

"Um…" Soul avoided her gaze, scratching the back of his neck.

"I… I know I haven't replied to you…" she started saying, his eyes widened and he faced her. Thankfully he stayed quiet and let her speak. "I should've told you before you left…" she swallowed nervously. "I… you're really special to me too. Y-you're my number one person―" she gasped loudly when he crashed into her, arms wrapping around her shoulders and face buried in her neck.

"Thank you." he whispered. She could swear she could feel his heart hammering against her chest. "I like you so much."

A large smile grew on her face and she beamed happily, her arms snaked around his waist and embraced him tightly. "I like you too." She couldn't help but take in his spicy and leathery scent. "I like you so much."

They clutched onto each other, enjoying the special moment of mutual bliss before the inevitable separation would come to tear them apart once again. For now, only they existed, only them and no one else. Their problems didn't exist, only them and their love was present as they hugged in front of penguin king.