Fingers trail down your jaw, cold yet soft. The silk of his glove conceals most of the frigid chill of his skin, but not the predatory intent.
A soft, taunting laugh rings from behind you as those wandering appendages grasp firm on your chin and force your head to tilt up. Your throat is left exposed to the night air that has a shudder come over your being.
“At ease, little one.” The voice coos as you feel breath tease your skin. “This will only hurt for a moment.”
The next second passes quickly, chilled lips, the dread pain of fang piercing delicate flesh. It is both hot and cold, painful yet full of ecstasy. The vampire behind you hums contentedly as you feel your life’s blood being pulled into his ravenous maw. Your vision blurs– from pain or blood loss you are unsure which.
For seconds it is both too much and not enough. You are dissolving. You are becoming. Pain blossoms in your chest then fades into mind numbing euphoria. You can feel a hand at the back of your neck– firm, gentle… yet possessive, malicious.
A sound escapes you, broken and breathless. You can’t tell if it was a gasp or a moan.
He can.
The pull ceases. A mercy, or so you thought. It leaves behind a phantom ache, like being kissed and then abandoned mid-breath. Your knees threaten betrayal, strength slipping like wine from a cracked chalice.
You can feel yourself dropping. He does not let you fall.
An arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest. You can feel no heartbeat. Only velvet, steel, and the faintest tremor of restrained power beneath his touch. You don’t know whether to thank him or try to push away.
Then you hear it, that charming cadence that brings you to the edge of terror and delight.
“There now,” he whispers, voice low and thick with indulgence. “It’s always worse the first time.”
A gloved thumb brushes the corner of your mouth—whether he’s wiping blood or simply admiring the way your lips part, even now, you can’t say. All you can tell is that he is amused, sated.
“Do you feel it?” he asks, eyes gleaming like garnets in the dark. “That pulse beneath your skin. That is mine now.”
His lips ghost your temple, and he murmurs – soft, reverent, cruel. Everything you feared it would be:
“But worry not, little one… I take care of what’s mine.”
Alanna’s fingers skimmed over the edge of the D;Board hovering in front of her. The server was rather quiet, for once, the hustle and bustle of the virtual city far behind from where she stood. Nobody there needed to see this. Nobody needed to know she couldn’t stand it.
Nobody needed to see her fall off every chance she got.
Her hand slowed to a stop halfway down the board. Shiny white and trimmed in a thick strip of dark violet around the edge, it reminded her much of a crystal, pointed on both ends and nearly her height in length. She wasn’t about to claim she understood how they worked, or how the faint blue flame coming from the back end meant it was working or where it was produced from, but she did know one thing: She needed to get over her fear.
And as much as she knew she had no choice in the matter, especially if she wanted to get anywhere past the city, it didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Just the thought of riding on one without anyone there to keep her distracted brought on the fear, the brunette duelist swallowing hard and slowly pressing her palm against the board’s top. It could crash. It was virtual reality; it could simply fade away. It could dump her off. Everything and anything could go wrong.
With a deep breath, Alanna forced herself to lift a knee onto the board, easing herself up afterwards to sit in the center. So far, so good - Aside from the crackle of the flame behind her forcing her breath to catch in her throat, form stiffening in fear. This wasn’t going to go well at all, was it? “I have to. I have to do this,” she muttered, pressing her palms back to it surface and leaning forward a bit. Maybe if she caught her breath....
" Yeah! I heard her family was rich, I wonder how she is doing now... "
.
.
.
In a room filled with trash bags, currently working on her next statue Koharu opened a cutter and slowly started to cut through a piece of wood.
" ... "
A simple power, create art and make it come true. One that was as limitless as dangerous in the wrong hands, and Koharu's hands.
" Whore. "
She said, cutting more pieces of wood to slowly form the body of a turtle.
" All of them are whores, talking about boyfriends, make up. What a pathetic excuse of human beings thinking they are at my level. "
Koharu stared at the work in progress, what she could do next? Maybe she could shape it with spikes like a certain king, or just give it a more rocky look like a monster...
" ... Wings "
Another minion was born, each single cut to the wood filled with pettiness and a wish of attacking back.
" Stop asking me why I don't have a boyfriend, is not your problem... "
Izumi finished, the statue looked humanoid as it stood in two legs. Instead of arms it had hands, as well as most of his body was a shell.
" One nice coat of paint and it would be ready, I think I will unleash you in the house of that bitch... "
She took one last look at the creature, putting her finger on it's head and rubbing it slightly.
The old Prussian was seated at the head of the restaurant table, barely glancing at the wine list in front of him. He already knew what he would order. He had known since before he had arrived, just as he had known exactly what he would order for food, and who would be sitting with him.
Prominent members of German society sat with him, jabbering away like a pack of dogs, making deals and vying for favor with each other. He knew each of their names and faces, of course, but he did not really care. Each year, it was the same. Each year, they would be the same, even as they faded into a new generation. It was routine, almost monotonous, by now.
His eyes fell to an empty chair in the middle of the table. It was meant for the one person who would be different from the rest. It was meant for her, and she was almost late. A normal man would start to wonder if she would even come at all. But he knew. He knew she would come. She would not dare to disappoint him.
Another minute ticked by, and, there, finally was the girl child, being escorted by the maitre d. She was wearing a dark blue dress, just as he had predicted she would, with diamond jewelry. As she took her seat, their eyes met, and he could see a familiar nervousness in her eyes. She was apologizing in silence for being nearly late. For his own part, he said nothing back with his gaze, but merely turned his attention to the politician on his right.
Or so it seemed. In truth, he couldn't care less about the story he was being told. He had heard it a hundred times, from a hundred different faces. Instead, his ears were listening to the girl as she greeted those around her in a confident voice. Ah, so like her to disguise her true feelings. He had taught her well.
The evening went on thusly, with good wine and food, champagne and toasts to his long, healthy life (oh how ironic, coming from mortals), and the same conversations he always had. It was an annual routine, and he enjoyed routine. And throughout it all, his attention remained on the girl, and hers remained on him. She, silently, desperately, looking for a sign of approval, and he giving no indication of it. She ought to know that her presence, and the distinct lack of invitation for her siblings, was approval enough. If she required more, well, then, she still had a long ways to learn.
The bill was paid for with a check and the last of the champagne was drained from glasses. The table stood, and hands were shaken. Final wishes of a happy birthday were given, and guests began to leave. He walked out behind them, nonchalantly pulling a silver cigarette case from his coat pocket, and a lighter to match. He lit a cigarette as he stepped out into the cold, Berlin winter. Final nods were given, and the party, finally, dispersed into the night.
Except for one. He could feel her eyes lingering on his face, waiting patiently for him to turn towards her. He considered walking towards his car without a word, but decided against it. If he did not give the child the occasional carrot, she might become another family disappointment.
He looked at her. He took his cigarette from his mouth and blew out into the wind. His acknowledgment was enough to give her permission to speak.
"I...just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, sir."
"So you have. I believe you did so inside as well."
"Ah, yes, I did. But I also wanted to give you a gift, sir."
He said nothing, but watched as she pulled a blue box tied with a silver ribbon out of her purse. She held it up to him. He slowly put returned his cigarette to his mouth and took up the box. He examined it briefly, as though that might reveal the contents inside. And then he opened it, handing the ribbon back to her, so as not to litter. Inside was a silver box, whose contents he didn't have to guess at. He looked at her with a raised brow.
"I already have a serviceable grooming kit."
"I know. But I thought, I mean, I hoped, you might like this one for another reason."
He looked at it again. In the light of the restaurant's front windows and the nearby lamppost, he saw an etching on the case. He tilted it just so, so that it caught the light better, and felt an old swelling in his gut. The Prussian Eagle was engraved on it. He could almost smirk. It was hardly an original gift idea. But he supposed she deserved some acknowledgment for finding it for him.
"I see. Thank you, child, for this." He put the blue lid back on the box, and tucked the gift into his coat pocket. He looked down at her again. She was smiling (truly smiling) for the first time that night.
"I'm glad you enjoy it, sir. And thank you for the dinner. It was pleasant. I hope you've had a good birthday."
This time, he did emote, by allowing himself a smug smile. What a young thing she still was. Tonight was hardly about how many years he had survived (although, he did deserve some praise for doing so despite everyone's best efforts). It was about connections, and keeping everyone close. And she slid right into his pocket, like a little doll.
"I did. And now, I am going home, to enjoy the rest of it in the quiet of my house."
"Ah, right, sir, of course." (Was that disappointment in her voice? How perfect.) "I hope your night is pleasant then."
"I'm certain it will be. Good night, child."
"Good night."
He turned and walked to his car. He could feel her watching him, perhaps wishing for him to turn back and invite her for drinks or a lunch together. The box in his pocket tapped against his leg as he walked, reminding him of how eager she was to please him. He smiled.
Hank didn't exactly know when it had happened. All he knew was that he and Valkyrie had been gunning down AAHW goons. They shot back, but they hadn't been hit.
Right?
He'd heard a gunshot, felt a splash of blood behind him, on his head, and heard something crash down. But that could've been another MAG. They brought them over-- Val must have killed one.
Right?
They ran away, and Hank lowered his weapons. He turned to Val, and saw her laying on the ground. She must be tired-- fighting those goons does that to you, and he's done this for who knows how long now.
Right?
That was another MAG's blood running down her face.
Right?
That was just a black eye from a MAG's punch. Not a hole in her head.
Right?
Val was just napping.
Right?
Val wasn't dead, right? Right? Right?!
---
"Hank. Hank, where the fuck are you?!"
"Dammit, I'm coming over. If I find your corpse there, I'm gonna..."
Next thing Hank knew, Doc was trying to separate him from Val.
He wouldn't move.
Doc watched as Hank just held Valkyrie's body, staring as if he were trying to process something.
Seven months. It had to have been seven months, at least, since... A light sigh passed through Alanna’s lips, a hand lifting to let fingertips brush the golden sun marking her chest. The world had changed so much since then, she decided; ever growing and ever brighter, it resembled little of the network he’d left behind. The sun shone, people laughed... Even the skies looked different, laced with different designs and code she couldn’t begin to decipher even if she wanted to.
Even she’d changed, stepping forward into the future she’d found with her head held high. Would he recognize her, she wondered? Had he not died in that war, would he have remembered her as the same nervous, fidgety girl he’d met... A year ago now, at the very least, a realization that made her give a soft snort of surprise. Had it really been so long already since she’d met Flame? So long since his passing?
We’ve come far. Though she was sitting up on a floating island, resting her nerves after a turbulent D-Board practice session, she didn’t trust the area to be void enough of people to speak her thoughts aloud. Humans have changed a lot in such a short time... Takeru’s changed, too. I’ve changed. But... Had he? She’d never expected to quite literally bump into a revived Earth, let alone learn how they’d all come back, somehow, but... Just how much was different, now?
As curious as she was, the thought still made her chest ache. She thought she’d come to terms with Flame’s death months earlier, and yet hearing his name still made it hurt. Knowing Earth was alive did, too; they’d failed to protect the ignis. Failed in keeping them safe away from harm, from falling into the traps Lightning had set. And now that they were back, she wasn’t about to stand by and let it all possibly repeat itself. Not being able to tell anyone would perhaps make it the hardest thing to handle, especially given her closeness to one of their origins, but...
Yet they weren’t back intact, she reminded herself. Earth had mentioned something about their recovery having a flaw; Would Flame even be the same Flame she remembered saying goodbye to... Tears quickly formed, fingers pressing against her chest with the memory. She’d seen them off with a smile on her lips, reminding both origin and ignis she’d be waiting for them... And only one had returned, expression fallen and looking like his very soul had been crushed. It hadn’t taken long for her to shatter with him, fighting to hold it back until he’d come to terms with it, first.
And now you’re back. I can’t see you... But you’re back. You and Earth both... I promise both of you, no matter how you’ve changed, I’ll make sure you’re safe. I sat back before and couldn’t do anything... Not again. NEVER again. I hope someday it’ll be safe to tell Takeru, Fujiki-san, Kusanagi-san...To see you both and show you the world born from your sacrifices. Until then, I swear I won’t let you hurt again. You’re safe. I promise.
Just like she’d done before, she’d stake her very life on it.
Summary: Five kisses. Five moments. Five of thousands, likely more - All shared across a lifetime spent bound together by the phoenix’s flames.
A drabble set for @soulburnings of our trio of fluffy, loving dorks - Happy birthday, Kasa! <3333
This way. Kiku wasn't sure why she hadn't expected a shortcut down an alley, honey glancing about their surroundings. Wasn't he always telling her not to go near them, always reminding her how dangerous they were with the Mizunuma brothers and their gang lurking around any and every corner? “Takeru, are you sure?”
“You said you didn't want to be seen.”
That was true, and she was thankful for his slowing to a stop and look back to her, first to meet her gaze, then down to the mess staining her blouse. She hadn't wanted to wander through the shopping district where everyone could see her, not when she'd slipped and fallen in a pile of fish guts just an hour earlier; who would with tendrils of fish skin, scales, and various parts making their clothes and hair stick to them? The smell was bad enough, but to be seen would be twice as bard – Especially with the next day being sunday and most of their classmates out for the evening!
All the same, she hadn't expected him to take her concerns to heart, either. Takeru rarely cared what anyone thought of him, and he'd made his thoughts on her needing to look pretty and presentable known more than once. She looked fine, he'd always remind her. Her scarf might have been askew, or her hair frizzy, but he'd always say she looked fine... Except for now, she noted. Now there were no promises of looking 'fine', no comments on her skirt or braid being a bit off, no teases – Just a concerned light in his eyes and free hand reaching out, thumb gently brushing a scale off her cheek.
He rarely cared what others thought, and yet he was all too willing to lead her through back alleys by the hand just so she could rest assured nobody had seen her looking like a whale had exploded.
He didn't have to, didn't have to care, and he was.
For her.
Slowly, Kiku stepped closer, rocking onto her toes and laying her hand against his chest. Despite the fish stuck to her and the awkwardness of it all, she couldn't stop herself from tilting her head towards him... Or her lips from brushing against his, instant coloring her cheeks a vibrant pink, and, she'd find as she pulled back, his bright red, sky-colored eyes wide in surprise and hand tightened around hers. But why... Was her heart pounding so hard against her ribs, now? Why had that felt so... Good? “Thank you, Takeru.”
“Uh...”
“Did you forget how to breathe?”
Gods knew she had.
~~
“You haven't seen my shirt, have you?”
“...What's a shirt?”
Mako didn't have to look to know Takeru's stare had turned blunt, let alone pinned on her. Not when she'd gone and parked herself on top of the shirt in question, casually continuing to scroll through settings in her 3DS game without so much as cracking a smile – No matter how much she wanted to. What was the worst he could do, anyway? Flip her off it? “Never heard of this 'shirt', Takeru. Sorry.”
“I can see it under you,” came his reply, closer than before – Yet she still wouldn't look up. In her opinion, there was no point; they'd been living together for two months, sharing her bedroom for at least one, and aside from some heated playfighting, there was little reason to think her boyfriend would do anything aside from order her off his shirt. And why would she want to do that when keeping it for herself meant he'd have to join her without one?
Yet before she could get out another sound, she'd find her game plucked from her hands, replaced with her phoenix's smirking expression. A smirk that made her own lips curl into a smile; he was looking for a playfight, wasn't he? “It's my shirt.”
“You're mine,” Takeru countered, though Mako could read between the lines: You're my girlfriend, so that makes you AND the shirt mine, doesn't it? “Give it to me.”
“Depends on what this it is.”
“Mako. I want to go to bed.”
“No you don't.”
“I want to sleep.”
No he didn't, not with that look on his face, but she'd not point that out a second time. Instead, she'd simply lift a hand to cup his cheek, guiding Takeru closer for their lips to meet in a soft, loving kiss – A gesture laced in fire and desire. It'd only been a month of sharing a room, and yet, she still caught herself melting far too easily underneath his advance, melting into her pillows like pure putty under his shift to lean over her. “Mmm... God, I love you-”
“You too-”
She'd still never give him back that shirt though.
~~
Gentle touches had always been her favorite, Kiku decided. Even a year, two years earlier, when he'd been little more than a thug and she clueless to the ways of the world, his touch across her hand and cheek had always been enough to lay her every trouble to rest. The rest of the universe seemed to melt away with each soft pass of skin on skin – All that was left was them, in a world all their own.
“I missed you.” She didn't trust her voice above the whisper it'd come out as, fingers curling into his sweatshirt. I missed you. Three words she shouldn't have been so wary to say, but he'd been gone for a reason, too, and she didn't want him to think she hadn't been supporting him the entire time. But now... He was real, right?
She didn't have to ask that question, Takeru's nose nudging hers a second later with a whisper of 'you too'. She'd never thought his return would make a moment like this... Nor had she ever expected she'd spend the day after her birthday hidden away in his bedroom, wrapped up in his arms as the sun slowly sank bellow the horizon outside. He was real, and she was finding that out in the best way possible, snuggling herself against her best friend – Her boyfriend. The boy she'd loved for so long, and nearly lost.
The boy who'd protected her for as long as she could remember.
The boy who made her heart skip a beat with every touch and every smile.
The boy who owned her heart, always.
And for the first time, her lean in was met halfway by a nervous yet eager Takeru, lips barely brushing before bravery took over and met for a far more solid, loving kiss. Their first as a couple... It was enough to send a shiver down her spine, pulled closer the second he noticed. If he thought she was cold, she wasn't sure, but she wasn't about to complain – Let alone pull away from the fire.
Let it consume me – There's no better birthday gift than to be surrounded by him, always.
~~
Takeru's heavy sigh and flop onto their shared bed was more than enough to make Mako laugh, slow fingers undoing the floppy bow tying her hair back into a loose bun. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him nervous; tests when they lived in the city had done this to him, too, as had every mention of ever talking to her parents, but actually meeting them in person as he had seemed to have been her fiance's breaking point. Not that she could tell by the unamused stare he pinned on her a second later, of course! “You survived, didn't you? And I told you they'd like you.”
“Your father talked about the ancient rights of cows,” Takeru reminded, peeling his mouth from the pillow he'd shoved it into. “That's not liking me, Mako, that's- ...What is he?”
“Mom and I have been asking that for a long time.” Hair flopping down against her back and ribbon set aside, she wasted no time in crawling onto the bed and over him, welcoming his quick roll onto his back and arms snaking around her middle. Being on their best behavior, on top of his nervousness all through dinner, had meant touches were kept to a bare minimum – And being pulled down to lay against his far more solid form, warmth almost seeming to wrap around her like the heat from a fireplace, easily drew a content sigh from her lips. No matter how awkward the day, or how bad, laying with him always made it seem like it'd never happened... “They loved you, you know.”
“Mmm...”
“I know that hum.”
Slowly, his head lifted off his pillow, a light kiss connecting them for but a moment. “It's a tired hum.”
“I'm sure.” That was an I hope so, Mako decided, biting the words off the tip of her tongue in favor of another soft kiss, shuddering under the hands slipping under the back of her blouse for a skim of careful fingertips against her skin. Even if she'd wanted to point it out, his touch alone kept her voice from moving past her throat – And made it all to easy for her to 'steal' a third kiss, gently nipping at his lower lip along with it.
It didn't matter if they liked him or not, she reminded herself. It didn't matter if the world did, or what anyone thought of their relationship – Not when- “I love you, Takeru.”
“Love you too, Mako-chan-”
Not when he owned her with such a simple, soft smile.
“Always.”
~~
“It's not like him to sleep this late,” Kiku sighed out, looking away from the living room's wall clock at the sound of a cup clicking against the nearby coffee table. “He's usually up by now, even on bad days. Did he say anything to you?”
Mako shrugged, plopping herself down beside her partner as carefully – and yet as ungracefully – as possible. The infant in her arms had only just stopped fussing no more than a few minutes earlier, and the last thing she wanted to do was set off another crying fit so soon. “It's how things like this go, you know. Sometimes it takes longer to come back from.”
“It's ten, Mako.”
“Mental illness sucks, Kiku.”
Though her lips parted to reply, Kiku quickly pressed them back together. Mako wasn't wrong, and they both knew it – But it wasn't like their household to be so quiet so late into the evening on a bad day, either. Sure, Takeru had spent days on end avoiding most everything on a bad day before, but he'd also made himself known to them all by 8, 9 the latest, too. Knowing it was nearly their eldest child's bedtime and he still wasn't out of bed yet worried her, something Mako quickly picked up on and countered with a soft smile.
“He'll be fine,” she offered, reaching up to brush a strand of raven hair behind Kiku's ear as Hiko crawled up to settle between them, Sumi instantly turning her attention to her brother from her mother's arms. “I promise. We'll just find him in the kitchen before us in the morning, that's all. Hope you didn’t want to keep those muffins for a rainy day.”
“I don't eat that much.”
Unlike the pure relief on Kiku's face at the sound, Takeru's voice only made Mako laugh, reaching out to catch their husband's hands the moment he was close enough to the couch. To the untrained eye, he looked content enough; dressed in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, he looked like he'd just rolled out of bed, breaking into a smile the moment Mako gave his hands a light squeeze and Hiko scooted to the side for him to sit with them. Of course, Hiko wouldn't stay there long, either, scooped onto his father's lap half a second later, hugged tight against the elder's middle with giggles galore.
But to his wives, the wear was more than obvious. Bright blue eyes had gone dim, equally as vibrant smile still warm, yet nowhere near as wide. Even his posture was more slouched than normal, and despite his chuckle over Hiko's laughter and Sumi's gurgling in his direction, a finger offered for the baby to grab at, he'd clearly not recovered enough from his 'bad day' to stay up for long. “...Sorry.”
Sorry I worried you. Sorry I was in bed all day. Sorry I haven't been out here. Sorry you had to take care of the kids all day alone- The meanings behind his apology were endless, Kiku leaning in to silence him with a sweet kiss before another could slip free. He had nothing to apologize for, after all, relishing in the faint smile he let work its way into the gesture. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mm-mm.” Once more, he didn't need to elaborate, leaning back into the couch, welcoming both women's snuggle into his sides. Sleep rarely came easy when his PTSD decided to make a reappearance, but after ten years of marriage and twice as long of friendship, even he knew he didn't need to explain himself. “...Mind if I stay here?”
Mako let out a light laugh, fingertips tracing over his jawline, guiding his head to tilt to the side for her own kiss to find his lips, soft and loving. “You make it sound like we'd let you go,” she reminded right after, expression softening as his smile grew a little more. “You're stuck with us, for the rest of your life. Hope you like scratches and cuddles.”
“Love them.”
“Good...”
“'Cause we've never letting you go. Ever.”
Five kisses, five moments... Just five of thousands across a lifetime shared together. No matter what the world tries to throw their way, there's nothing they can't beat-
Not when they can face it as a family, forever bound by the flames.
“Another year over,” Mako sighed out, glancing to her best friend with a soft smile. Between the streetlights outside and the glow from Kiku’s tablet, counting down the hours until midnight for them, she could make out the raven’s gentle expression without much issue, hands wrapped around a mug illuminated by the tablet just enough to make the glittery snowflake design it bore sparkle. “We made it, Kiku.”
“Mostly intact, too.” Kiku’s counter had been a tease, they knew, but it was more than enough for both girls to glance out at the dusting of snow still stubbornly clinging to the Kamishirakawa’s front yard. Mostly... So much had changed, they couldn’t help but wonder; was mostly even applicable when they’d come so far? Their lives had taken such drastic turns in the last year, between Mako’s time in the city and finally breaking free of her shell, and Kiku’s choice to get her own apartment and break free to grab her own future-
Maybe mostly didn’t fit, after all, though neither would say as much, Mako pausing to sip at her own Santa-Mickey Mouse mug of cocoa. “...We’ll just have to fly higher next year. It’s a whole new decade on top of being a new year - This is our time.”
Gently, Kiku laid her head against the window, a faint laugh leaving her lips. “I’m not stopping until I have my apartment. And I know you and Takeru aren’t until you’re soaring high, either...” With a slight tilt of her body to readjust in her window-side seat, she held up her mug. “To a new year of continued change. Together.”
“To our futures,” Mako finished, tapping her mug against Kiku’s. “Being a teacher, a nurse, and seeing Take-kun continue to hold his head high. Happy new year, Kiku.”
“You too, Mako.”
To a new year of change, growth, and togetherness - Happy new year!
