Kingdom Hearts ~ Hearts and Happenstance - Ten Notes for Ten Memories
Title: Ten Notes for Ten Memories
Prompt: #10 - #10 (for 30_kisses )
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts II
Characters/Pairings: Luxord/Tifa
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts II
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 877
Warnings: Light sexual themes
Disclaimer: I don’t own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein. They belong to Square and Disney, to whom I am eternally grateful for letting me play in their sandbox.
Summary: Sometimes, it's the little mundane things that have the most impact.
She tells him that he must have spent some time as a thief in his past life.
His hands have all the symptoms of a kleptomaniac, she jokes. They are like active, inquisitive creatures separate from himself-- always darting out to touch and hold and examine. He feigns offense and argues that for all she knows, he may well have had been a street corner card dealer-- such a hobby would also require quick and intelligent hands.
She doesn’t bother to mention that she hardly felt it when he’d stolen her heart-- figuratively speaking, of course. She’s not even entirely sure that that’s what he’s done, and if it would have felt like anything if he had.
--
Every one of his actions have a sort of ritual to them. He pretends to be vexed that she’s caught on to a few of his idiosyncrasies: the way he places a forefinger against his lips before doing something decisive; the way he always strokes a chosen card before taking it out of the deck.
She teases him by saying that it’s unlucky to be so superstitious. He counters by lapsing into a fit of mock despair and complaining that he will have to work extra hard-- step over every crack, pick up every pin; knock on every piece of wood he sees-- to undo the damage she’s done.
--
She apologizes whenever she finds herself talking too much about Cloud, but he never seems irritated. He seems to find it admirable that she’s so determined to find the one she cares about so deeply. Most important of all, he never gives her the impression that he thinks her faith in his return is futile.
--
Working double shifts can have a negative impact on one’s health.
It’s clear that she’s becoming accustomed to seeing him scratched up and battered, and always makes it a point to have healing items on hand to dress his wounds. He can tell that she’s worried about him, and there is indeed one day where she tells him that he really should be more careful, while she’s digging a piece of glass out of his shoulder.
He winces only slightly and quips that it’s nothing; that the scrapes he gets into with the Heartless are nothing compared to the “struggles” they have in the bedroom-- though they are admittedly much less enjoyable.
The light slap she gives him in retaliation leaves a considerable bruise, but he feels that it’s worth it.
--
He gets into the oddest moods after a few drinks. Once he spent an evening rhapsodizing to her about the importance of the number ten. She merely smiled at him, secretly amazed-- he’s quite possibly the only one she’s ever met who actually becomes more articulate when he’s intoxicated.
--
She swears she can hear time when he’s kissing her. It sounds like a hyperbole people say when they’re caught up in the moment, so she never mentions it to him.
Still, when his hands are in her hair and her breath mingles with his, it sounds like there’s a pendulum inside her head, ticking the seconds away with an echoing intensity.
It may be just her own pulse pounding in her ears, but sometimes she wonders if it could possibly be the sound of his nonexistent heart.
--
He makes a mental note to never, ever suggest a game of Strip Poker ever again, not even in jest.
Not because she has a propensity for winning (she doesn’t), but because it’s extremely difficult to concentrate on one’s game when certain... urges... keep getting in the way.
Even when she loses, it seems, she still manages to win.
If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was losing on purpose.
--
She isn’t so sure that she really believes in fate.
She doesn’t want to admit it to him, but she doesn’t feel entirely comfortable with the idea that the events in her life aren’t under her control. She prefers to think that people shape their own future through the choices they make.
But when he unexpectedly shows up on a rainy day with a smile and a box of her favorite Oolong tea, she wonders whether it was the choices she’s made that have led them to this point... or whether something somewhere has been pulling the strings all along.
Perhaps, she thinks, it doesn’t even matter.
--
It doesn’t occur to him that he should be jealous.
Even if it were physically possible for him to feel such emotions, the thought would never cross his mind. He knows that despite all of the nights they spend together, Tifa’s heart still belongs to Cloud. He accepts this, and all without an ounce of envy-- pretend or otherwise. It would simply be a waste of emotions he no longer has.
Besides, when his breath caresses her ear with soft banalities, and he moves inside her in that slow and teasing way that never fails to send her into a frenzy, the name she gasps over and over is always Luxord, Luxord, Luxord.
He never wonders whether he should be jealous. After all, he knows enough to take pleasure in even the smallest victory.
--
She counts to ten when she trains now. She doesn’t bother to explain why.
Prompt: #10 - #10 (for 30_kisses )
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts II
Characters/Pairings: Luxord/Tifa
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts II
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 877
Warnings: Light sexual themes
Disclaimer: I don’t own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein. They belong to Square and Disney, to whom I am eternally grateful for letting me play in their sandbox.
Summary: Sometimes, it's the little mundane things that have the most impact.
She tells him that he must have spent some time as a thief in his past life.
His hands have all the symptoms of a kleptomaniac, she jokes. They are like active, inquisitive creatures separate from himself-- always darting out to touch and hold and examine. He feigns offense and argues that for all she knows, he may well have had been a street corner card dealer-- such a hobby would also require quick and intelligent hands.
She doesn’t bother to mention that she hardly felt it when he’d stolen her heart-- figuratively speaking, of course. She’s not even entirely sure that that’s what he’s done, and if it would have felt like anything if he had.
--
Every one of his actions have a sort of ritual to them. He pretends to be vexed that she’s caught on to a few of his idiosyncrasies: the way he places a forefinger against his lips before doing something decisive; the way he always strokes a chosen card before taking it out of the deck.
She teases him by saying that it’s unlucky to be so superstitious. He counters by lapsing into a fit of mock despair and complaining that he will have to work extra hard-- step over every crack, pick up every pin; knock on every piece of wood he sees-- to undo the damage she’s done.
--
She apologizes whenever she finds herself talking too much about Cloud, but he never seems irritated. He seems to find it admirable that she’s so determined to find the one she cares about so deeply. Most important of all, he never gives her the impression that he thinks her faith in his return is futile.
--
Working double shifts can have a negative impact on one’s health.
It’s clear that she’s becoming accustomed to seeing him scratched up and battered, and always makes it a point to have healing items on hand to dress his wounds. He can tell that she’s worried about him, and there is indeed one day where she tells him that he really should be more careful, while she’s digging a piece of glass out of his shoulder.
He winces only slightly and quips that it’s nothing; that the scrapes he gets into with the Heartless are nothing compared to the “struggles” they have in the bedroom-- though they are admittedly much less enjoyable.
The light slap she gives him in retaliation leaves a considerable bruise, but he feels that it’s worth it.
--
He gets into the oddest moods after a few drinks. Once he spent an evening rhapsodizing to her about the importance of the number ten. She merely smiled at him, secretly amazed-- he’s quite possibly the only one she’s ever met who actually becomes more articulate when he’s intoxicated.
--
She swears she can hear time when he’s kissing her. It sounds like a hyperbole people say when they’re caught up in the moment, so she never mentions it to him.
Still, when his hands are in her hair and her breath mingles with his, it sounds like there’s a pendulum inside her head, ticking the seconds away with an echoing intensity.
It may be just her own pulse pounding in her ears, but sometimes she wonders if it could possibly be the sound of his nonexistent heart.
--
He makes a mental note to never, ever suggest a game of Strip Poker ever again, not even in jest.
Not because she has a propensity for winning (she doesn’t), but because it’s extremely difficult to concentrate on one’s game when certain... urges... keep getting in the way.
Even when she loses, it seems, she still manages to win.
If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was losing on purpose.
--
She isn’t so sure that she really believes in fate.
She doesn’t want to admit it to him, but she doesn’t feel entirely comfortable with the idea that the events in her life aren’t under her control. She prefers to think that people shape their own future through the choices they make.
But when he unexpectedly shows up on a rainy day with a smile and a box of her favorite Oolong tea, she wonders whether it was the choices she’s made that have led them to this point... or whether something somewhere has been pulling the strings all along.
Perhaps, she thinks, it doesn’t even matter.
--
It doesn’t occur to him that he should be jealous.
Even if it were physically possible for him to feel such emotions, the thought would never cross his mind. He knows that despite all of the nights they spend together, Tifa’s heart still belongs to Cloud. He accepts this, and all without an ounce of envy-- pretend or otherwise. It would simply be a waste of emotions he no longer has.
Besides, when his breath caresses her ear with soft banalities, and he moves inside her in that slow and teasing way that never fails to send her into a frenzy, the name she gasps over and over is always Luxord, Luxord, Luxord.
He never wonders whether he should be jealous. After all, he knows enough to take pleasure in even the smallest victory.
--
She counts to ten when she trains now. She doesn’t bother to explain why.