So, at this point, everyone knows that I was forced to remove Lemon Island and its mature content due to the Eliminator Forum vicious attacking and trolling me. I'm going to move ALL my mature stories to a new website. If you're just as sick of this as I am, please join our cause to bring freedom back to Fanfiction!

Avenger Forum link, remove spaces and *: www. fanfiction. n*e*t /forum/Avenger/119079 (All information can be found in the Supporter forum.)

The Rebellion Forum link, remove spaces and *: www. fanfiction. n*e*t /forum/The-Rebellion/114259/ (Most forums are banding together here.)

Petition for an MA rating link, remove spaces and *: www. change. o*r*g /petitions/fanfiction-net-we-want-fanfiction-to-create-a-ma-rating

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Anyway, I have MOVED this story COMPLETELY to another site. You can find this STORY and all its subsequent UPDATES here: h*t*t*p*:/archiveofourown. o*r*g*/works/699818/chapters/1289106

I have the same penname there as I do here: ParadiseAvenger

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Summary: After what Giriko nearly did to Maka, she hasn't been able to match soul wavelengths with Soul. Her partner has to find out why or else risk losing her forever.

X X X

The bed that had once been such a comfort to Maka Albarn felt strange beneath her back and her favorite pajamas felt like constricting chains. She couldn't breathe inside her clothing and the bed was going to swallow her up like the maw of a hungry monster. It was like a strange sort of twisted nightmare, only… it wasn't a nightmare.

It was reality.

Ever since Spartoi had retrieved Death the Kid from the Book of Eibon, Maka hadn't been able to sleep in her own bed. She had actually spent most of her nights on the couch in the living room, being certain to get up before Soul so he wouldn't know how tormented she was by what had happened… what had nearly happened.

The nightmares chewed at Maka's soul.

The world around her was lazy white—white walls, white floor, a veritable abyss of endless whiteness. The empty white space was filled with beds and chairs of all shapes and sizes. At first, Maka was alone in the Sloth Chapter, standing there. Her body was tired and felt so heavy. Her own soul seemed to weigh her down. All she wanted to do was lay down on one of the plush beds and sleep for eternity, resting her exhausted body and mind and soul. She took a step towards one of the beds, drawn to it like a moth to the flame. That was when there was a subtle shift in the whiteness to her left and she closed her eyes, willing it away. But it didn't go away.

The nightmare was the same every time.

Giriko was standing behind her, his arms going around her small body. He reeked of oil and grease, his body burning hot and purring like a motor, and his hot stinking breath blew against the shell of her ear. In reality, when it had happened, he had been yelling threats to kill her, but in her nightmare, he was deathly silent. Without a sound, he overpowered her small weaponless body. He threw her down on one of the beds and pinned her arms above her head. He grinned, hot breath on her throat, and his knee pressed between her thighs. The Spartoi uniform's short skirt offered no resistance or protection. He pressed against her, crushing her sex. She whimpered in pain and fear.

Where was Soul? Why wasn't he here with her?

Giriko hovered over Maka, the stink of his body pressing into her lungs like polluting smoke. Her hands were pinned, her body strewn helplessly on the bed, and she was defenseless. She could do nothing to stop him as he ripped open the front of her jacket and white blouse. The chainsaws inside his body hummed as he cut through the underwire of her bra and broke into her skin. He licked the blood off of her skin, his tongue hideously wet. Then, he pushed aside the crotch of her panties and pushed his fingers into her virginal tightness. She cried out, her sex throbbing. She was afraid, she was alone, and she wasn't wet. He hurt her. He hurt her so badly. And he wasn't even inside her yet.

"Please, don't," she begged him.

Still silent, Giriko cut through her skirt and panties and ran his tongue over her naked body from knee to shoulder. Then, he licked her face and pushed his tongue into her mouth. She tried to turn her face away, but he was too strong. His fingers thrust into her dry sex painfully, but he put his thumb on her clitoris and she couldn't help but respond. A small shiver went through her body and heat settled between her thighs. He grinned at her and licked the side of her throat. Then, she closed her eyes and tried to escape the nightmare. He lowered his zipper and the greasy head of his dick bumped against her entrance, beginning to push into her vulnerable body.

"This is my nightmare," she whispered. "Please, I want to wake up now."

But her words had no effect. She remained trapped within the nightmare realm, pinned beneath Giriko as he pushed into her helpless body. If only someone would save her, help her, anything! Where was her partner? Where was Soul? She needed him—without him, she was useless. Giriko's fingers bruised into her hips and slammed into her to the hilt. She screamed out and she could feel the blood running down her thighs as her virgin body was violated. He bit her throat, leaving a hickey the size of a golf ball on her pale flesh. He plowed into Maka as hard as he could, pressing against her womb, and bouncing her tiny breasts with the animal force of his thrusts.

She sobbed. "Help me…"

But no one did. Giriko fucked her. He fucked her hard. Her body felt like it was going to split at the seams, the small amount of pleasure he was giving her creating juices to mingle with her blood. Tears ran down her cheeks, dripping into the sheets of the bed. Her hands rolled into fists and a moan of pain escaped her mouth. Giriko continued, as silent as the grave even as she felt his pace quicken and his burning seed spill inside her. Then, the pure white nightmare world began to evaporate. Giriko was gone as if he had never even been there, but Maka's body was still naked and violated. She hugged herself within the dream and waited to wake up.

Now was the time she always woke up.

"You looked like you enjoyed that."

Maka's head snapped up, stricken. Soul was standing in front of her, his hands in his pockets, his blood-colored eyes hard and cold. He stared at her for a long time and she did what she could to cover her nudity. This nightmare… what was it going to do to her now?

"Did you enjoy being fucked, Maka?" Soul asked her meanly.

She shook her head, tears dripping down her face.

"You looked like you did." He approached her and pushed her back down on the bed.

Maka wrapped her arms around him, sobbing and holding his body close to guard her nudity. Even when he was like this, even though it was a nightmare, he was still Soul. She knew that he would never hurt her. When Giriko had attacked her in reality, Soul had been there and he had saved her. He had protected her.

"Soul," she sobbed.

His fingers slipped between her legs, probing her folds. "You're all sloppy down here. You liked it."

"No," she whimpered. "I didn't. Please…"

Soul pushed a finger inside her and she yelped. "How about it, Maka?" he growled. "You spread your legs for him. How about spreading them for me, now?"

Her green eyes widened, tears burning in her eyes and throat. "No! Please—!"

He pried her legs apart and shoved himself into her, tearing her apart, tearing into her soul. He tore both of them apart until they were nothing but pieces of paper blown away on the cold wind blowing through her nightmare. Maka screamed, her voice bouncing off the walls. She woke with a start, the scream still echoing against the walls of the apartment she shared with Soul. She was sleeping on the couch, tangled in the blankets, and Soul's concerned face were inches from her own.

"Maka, are you—?"

She screamed wildly and lashed out, the vestiges of her nightmare still clinging to her body and mind. Without even realizing what she was doing, she got first her fist into Soul's face and then her foot into his gut. She hurled him backwards with the strength she had from wielding his scythe form day in and day out. Soul's body slammed into the wall with a crack and the painting that was hung on it crashed down on his head. Glass scattered all over the floor.

"Maka, what the—?"

For a moment, she just stared at him with her olive-green eyes uncomprehending. Then, a sort of light came on in the depths of her eyes. Tears ran down her face and she pressed her fingers to her mouth, a ragged sob tearing from her throat. "Oh Soul… I… I'm so sorry…"

He rubbed the back of his head and his fingers came away bloody. "Shit," he muttered. "That must have been some dream."

Maka shuddered. "Y-yeah…"

Soul got to his feet, flipped on the lamp, and carefully picked his way through the glass scattered on the floor. "Why are you sleeping on the couch?" he asked her softly as he fetched the dustpan and broom from the closet. Normally, he would have insisted that Maka clean up her own mess, but her eyes were so tragic and frightened that he didn't. "Maka?"

"I was… reading," she lied, "and… just fell asleep here."

Soul eyed the blankets and pillows she had brought out from her room and settled on the couch. "Really?"

She bit her lip nervously. "Yeah…"

Soul knew she was lying, but he didn't push it. They were so close, their souls bonded, that he could feel her emotions and he sensed that she didn't want to talk about what had just occurred between them. She didn't want to tell him why she had shoved him away from her. She didn't want him to know why she had been screaming in her sleep. She didn't want him to know why she was sleeping on the couch and had been for many nights now.

So, Soul let it go. He cleaned up the broken picture and the glass and then returned to his bedroom.

Maka remained on the couch in the living room, convincing herself that she didn't need to tell Soul about the nightmares. They were only nightmares and wouldn't affect their lives or their missions, she persuaded herself. Yeah, they didn't matter. She was alright and the nightmares would eventually go away on their own.

But they didn't.

Things didn't start going wrong until the next day.

…

The sun rose over Death City and the day looked promising, nothing like the night. The sky was crystal-clear and beautifully blue, the air was warm with a faint breeze, the sun was laughing contentedly, and the Academy was perched high above watching over everything that went on below. Summer was on its way. All the flowers were in full bloom, the birds were singing, and the Academy's students were all out and about either training, going to class, or heading off on missions.

Neither Soul nor Maka mentioned what had happened the night before even though there was a gash in the back of Soul's scalp from the broken painting. They just got on Soul's motorbike and headed to the Academy. They were just coming off a long mission and it was time for some between-mission training with Professor Stein.

They arrived at the training fields right on time and Stein was waiting for them, smoking.

"Hey kids," Stein said and blew out a skull-shaped smoke cloud. "Ready to get down to it?"

They both nodded and Soul's body dissolved into his weapon form in a shower of bright light. Maka caught her Death Scythe and twirled him around expertly. No one knew just yet if Soul was a stronger weapon than Spirit Albarn, but Maka had a feeling he was and Maka was officially going to go down in history as the youngest meister to ever create a Death Scythe. Everyone was so proud of them and her heart soared, glowing and chasing away the fear left by her nightmares.

Then, she became aware that something was off.

Soul felt… heavy in her hands… and hot. He wasn't burning her as he had once before, but he wasn't pleasant for her to hold. Normally, holding Soul was bliss for her. They were so closely connected, trusted each other so deeply, that she loved fighting with him. But now… something was… wrong!

"Ready?" Stein asked.

Maka nodded, trying to ignore the strangeness that had come over her.

"Resonate with Soul."

She wet her lips and closed her eyes, reaching out with her wavelength and trying to connect with Soul. She could feel him reaching for her as well, but she just couldn't reach him. It was as if they were magnets, repelling each other no matter how hard they tried to touch.

"What's wrong?" Stein asked when the two weren't able to match wavelengths immediately.

Maka squeezed her eyes closed tightly and desperately reached out, but she just couldn't get a grip on Soul. She could barely even feel the presence of his soul and her own felt wildly out of reach. Her soul… why did it feel so dark and heavy? Why did she feel so strange? It was like she was trapped within her nightmare once again.

"Maybe we should stop," Soul offered gently.

Gasping, she nodded. "Yeah."

"What's wrong?" Stein asked them.

"I don't know," Soul said and transformed back into his human body. Carefully, he supported Maka with her arm slung over his shoulders and his arm looped around her waist. "Maka, what's wrong?" he asked his meister without looking at Stein.

Maka wet her lips.

She couldn't ignore the nightmares anymore. She had to admit that they were interfering with her life now. Even worse, they were getting in the way of her resonance with Soul. Since Soul was Death Scythe now, he had to go out on missions. She couldn't be getting in his way.

"It's okay," Maka whispered. "We can take care of it."

Soul eyed her, his gaze soft.

"Alright then," Stein said and blew out another stream of smoke. "We'll try this again tomorrow."

Maka nodded and gently tugged Soul back towards their apartment. In silence, they walked back together. Maka was leaning heavily on Soul, her body trembling slightly. Soul's arms around her felt so strong, so secure, so… trustworthy. He wouldn't hurt her like he did in her nightmares. He was nothing like Giriko, but…

Soul opened the door, guided her inside, and helped her sit down on the couch. Then, he sat beside her and cautiously retracted his hands from hers. There was a smear of blood on the wall where his head had struck it the night before. He absently winced at the memory.

"Maka?" he asked softly.

She sighed heavily. "Soul, I'm sorry," she whispered. "This is… all my fault."

"What is?"

She met his eyes and then gently hugged him.

"Maka?" Nervously, he laid his hands on her back and rubbed her tenderly.

"After what happened with… Giriko, I've been having nightmares," she whispered.

He hugged her tight, stroking her hair. He understood her so well that he didn't press her. He just held her and waited. Eventually, she would tell him everything. They were that close—they were partners, bonded at the soul level.

"And last night, the nightmare changed… For a while, it's just been… about what Giriko almost did to me."

"But I saved you," he murmured.

She nodded. "I know, but still… I can't get what happened out of my head."

Soul dipped his head, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"And last night, I dreamed that after Giriko… raped me… you raped me."

He tightened his arms around her. "I would never do that to you."

She fisted her hands in his shirt. "I know," she whispered. "But it was just so real. When I woke up and you were there…"

He hushed her. "I understand."

Maka snuggled against him. "Thank you, Soul." Then, she lifted her chin and kissed him full on the lips.

Sputtering, Soul pushed her back. "What—?"

"Please, Soul… I… I want to replace what happened with something else."

She kissed him again.

He was along with whatever she wanted partially because he was her weapon and therefore an extension of her body and soul, partially because he cared for her so deeply it was like they were already parts of each other, partially because he wanted this as much as she did.

Soul twined his arms around her small body and kissed her deeply, his tongue slipping past her lips and tangling with hers in a sloppy dance. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him close, kissing him almost with desperation. Soul pressed her back into the cushions of the couch and settled on top of her, his mouth burning a path from her lips to her throat. Maka wrapped her arms around his back, her nails raking his skin through his clothing.

Her knees were digging into her stomach painfully. "Maka," he breathed.

She must have sensed his discomfort through their souls because she cautiously parted her legs and wrapped them around his narrow hips. He could feel the heat of her sex through his trousers and the blood rushed to his loins. He unconsciously pressed his hips down and rubbed his hard arousal against her moist crotch.

She groaned, clutching him closer and pressing her lips to the side of his throat. Her small hands untucked his shirt and slipped beneath the fabric. Her fingers traced the sensitive path of his scar, sending a shudder through him. "You saved my life," she whispered.

He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "You are mine," he murmured.

Her eyes welled with tears. "I… I love you," she blurted out.

Soul stared at her, uncomprehending. "What?"

She turned away sharply. "Nothing," she said.

"It's not cool to take back words like that, Maka."

She met his eyes and a single tear ran down her cheek.

"Say it again," he whispered and kissed away the tear. "Please."

"I… I love you," she breathed out.

Soul kissed her and, abruptly, his wavelength poured into her. The soothing waves washed over her, the pain and fear left by her nightmares of Giriko just dissolving into nothingness. His warm slightly-twisted soul cradled and worshipped her own, melding together even more perfectly than when they danced together. Soul was her everything, her weapon, her guardian, her best friend, and now… dare she say it, the love of her life and her lover.

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And I removed the original mature content that continued from that point due to the trolls. Please join the cause to bring maturity to Fanfiction again. Or read this story and all its updates in its original version on Archive of Our Own.