you get what you give, i give goodbye.
Man, I really need to get a fic journal for this account or something. SORRY, F-LIST, FOR FORCING YOU TO KNOW THAT THIS EXISTS o////o
Title: Use Me Up
Fandom: Kindgom Hearts
Pairing: Larxene/Axel (with some implied Axel/Roxas because ANGST, DELICIOUS ANGST)
Rating: M for... uh, how do the movie ratings put it? Language and sexual content.
Note: This ship needs more love. Seriously. ;_; Also, I am probably writing it completely wrong but (a) this is the first time I've written fic for them and (b) I haven't written in a while, so I'm a bit rusty.
I.
I know how to be lost in lust
Not because you should, but because you must
- "No One Loves Me And Neither Do I" by Them Crooked Vultures
II.
Not having a heart is a lot like standing in the cold for too long. Eventually, even though the freezing wind should feel like needles slicing through your skin, you barely feel anything at all.
But being with her (no, not with, with sounds too - exclusive? official?) - no matter how much he dislikes her - it's almost like he knows what it would feel like. Painful, yes - but at least it's feeling.
III.
She's not jealous.
She can't feel jealousy and she's quite proud of that, actually. Jealousy is a weakness, and she can't stand those, not in herself at any rate, but others' weaknesses- that's a different story.
She hates his, though. Not at first - not when they're rushing to get each others' clothes off as quickly as possible, not when her nails are leaving raw red scratches on his back, not when-
No, it's afterwards, when the stupid bastard dares to lie beside her long after he's caught his breath, and she can see in his face how much he'd like to put an arm around her waist, to bury his head in the valley between of her neck and shoulder and breathe in the scent of sweat and electricity and sex.
"I'm not your boyfriend," she'll snap at him, pushing him away. "Go... snuggle with him all you want, but get the fuck out of my room."
IV.
They fight, often. He likes to think of their relationship as eighty percent fighting out of bed, and twenty percent fighting in it. Sometimes, it's so bad that they spend the next few days steering clear of eachother, although they're bound to run into eachother eventually.
Yesterday he'd... well... it was an accident, how was he to know those sheets were flammable, or her favorite at that? - anyway, he'd spent the night and following morning giving her a wide berth (he'd been shocked enough times in the past week, thanks) but avoiding her forever was impossible, especially when she was in one of her... moods.
And it's not as if he really minds that much when she pulls him by the front of his robe into a dark, secluded corner, pushing him up against the wall, hip bones pressing against his and her warm breath in his ear:
"You're going to have to pay for what you did, you know."
"Hit me with your best shot, Sparky," he whispers back, shooting her an easy grin, and he doesn't complain (much) when the nickname earns him a sharp knee to the unmentionables.
V.
"If I didn't know better I'd have thought I could hear your heart beating." He chuckles, tugging his shirt over his head.
He recieves a pillow to the face for his troubles. "You're a sentimental idiot, you know that?"
So much for romance, he thinks, and exists the room, leaving her looking crossly at his retreating back.
Title: Use Me Up
Fandom: Kindgom Hearts
Pairing: Larxene/Axel (with some implied Axel/Roxas because ANGST, DELICIOUS ANGST)
Rating: M for... uh, how do the movie ratings put it? Language and sexual content.
Note: This ship needs more love. Seriously. ;_; Also, I am probably writing it completely wrong but (a) this is the first time I've written fic for them and (b) I haven't written in a while, so I'm a bit rusty.
I.
I know how to be lost in lust
Not because you should, but because you must
- "No One Loves Me And Neither Do I" by Them Crooked Vultures
II.
Not having a heart is a lot like standing in the cold for too long. Eventually, even though the freezing wind should feel like needles slicing through your skin, you barely feel anything at all.
But being with her (no, not with, with sounds too - exclusive? official?) - no matter how much he dislikes her - it's almost like he knows what it would feel like. Painful, yes - but at least it's feeling.
III.
She's not jealous.
She can't feel jealousy and she's quite proud of that, actually. Jealousy is a weakness, and she can't stand those, not in herself at any rate, but others' weaknesses- that's a different story.
She hates his, though. Not at first - not when they're rushing to get each others' clothes off as quickly as possible, not when her nails are leaving raw red scratches on his back, not when-
No, it's afterwards, when the stupid bastard dares to lie beside her long after he's caught his breath, and she can see in his face how much he'd like to put an arm around her waist, to bury his head in the valley between of her neck and shoulder and breathe in the scent of sweat and electricity and sex.
"I'm not your boyfriend," she'll snap at him, pushing him away. "Go... snuggle with him all you want, but get the fuck out of my room."
IV.
They fight, often. He likes to think of their relationship as eighty percent fighting out of bed, and twenty percent fighting in it. Sometimes, it's so bad that they spend the next few days steering clear of eachother, although they're bound to run into eachother eventually.
Yesterday he'd... well... it was an accident, how was he to know those sheets were flammable, or her favorite at that? - anyway, he'd spent the night and following morning giving her a wide berth (he'd been shocked enough times in the past week, thanks) but avoiding her forever was impossible, especially when she was in one of her... moods.
And it's not as if he really minds that much when she pulls him by the front of his robe into a dark, secluded corner, pushing him up against the wall, hip bones pressing against his and her warm breath in his ear:
"You're going to have to pay for what you did, you know."
"Hit me with your best shot, Sparky," he whispers back, shooting her an easy grin, and he doesn't complain (much) when the nickname earns him a sharp knee to the unmentionables.
V.
"If I didn't know better I'd have thought I could hear your heart beating." He chuckles, tugging his shirt over his head.
He recieves a pillow to the face for his troubles. "You're a sentimental idiot, you know that?"
So much for romance, he thinks, and exists the room, leaving her looking crossly at his retreating back.