#''can i have my wallet back please'' being the first phrase i teach my boyfriend in elvhen not so much as a commentary on the

[princehendir]

Everyone worrying about Merrill sooooo much and always trying to make sure she's safe when she's walking alone because she's so sweet and unobservant inside her own head all the time omg what if something happens 💔 meanwhile Adrian gets pickpocketed literally every time he's in a crowd of any size and nobody gives a fuck.

[xlehukax]

What Becomes Of The Brokenhearted?

Foreword: This is for @head-over-heart​‘s 100 Follower Writing thing!! It took me forever but hey, I did it. urm you asked for angst and... it’s angst-

Ships: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 5036

Warnings: ANGST SO MUCH ANGST ALL THE FLUFF IS ANGST IN SHEEPS CLOTHING, Language, Cursing, Verbal Abuse, Lying, Manipulative Loki, Unsympathetic Loki, Past Relationships, Money Issues, Tortured Loki, Blood, Sorta self harm? it’s weird, again this is angst if you’re reading it for fluff I direct you to literally anything else on my page

Summary: You had thought your relationship with Loki was the main story, the tale of two lovers, a romance. It was merely a preface, and that you now know.  

~~~~

2009

You first met him by accident. You were just wandering about the bookstore: you had gone for a particular book, which you found, and were now letting yourself be caught within the pamphlets for vacations in Hawaii and test prep books. You let your hands brush some of them idly: the smell of paper is something familiar. Calming.

You step back for a moment, only to bump into a tall man. Hastily turning about-face, you nearly trip over the apology in your mouth at the sight of him.

Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t begin to cover it. He looked like he belonged in the Romance section, not squashed between ACT Test Prep and AP Chemistry.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry,” you squeak. He blinks at you slowly. Encapturing, you think to yourself, as his eyes turn from an icy blue to a green only seen on fresh grass.

“It is no problem at all, my dear,” he says with a small wisp of a smile. You have to hold yourself back from gaping at his voice, all velvet and red wine. You begin to take little steps outside of the aisle. Being within the scope of this guy is making your heart race way too fast for your liking. You’ve made it a few feet when a large elegant hand lands on your shoulder. Tensing immediately, you turn to see who did such a gesture.

“Apologies, dear, but would you mind helping me out for a moment? You seem acquainted with this establishment,” he asks, a teasing tone to his honeyed voice.

“Oh yes, totally,” you yelp, sounding nothing if not vastly peasant-like comparatively to him, “Could you maybe- take your hand off my shoulder first?” The mystery man removes his hand with leisure, holding on a moment longer than necessary before removing it completely.

“Of course,” he murmurs.

“Alrighty then, what are you looking for?” you smile at him bashfully, unable to meet his eyes.

“World history, if you would,”

“That’s sorta… a wide topic. Like, maps or something?” you clarify. He shakes his head.

“No, the entire history of the world. From the start of mankind to now,” he ensures. You stare for a moment: the history of the entire world. Something that kids learn for years. Yeah sure, that’s totally easy to do.  

“You mean… just America, right? Ha…” you start to laugh but take in his stony expression. No, he’s completely serious. Where has this guy been that he needs to know everything about the world? “Alright then. I guess I could show you to the World History section,” you accept. He smiles appreciatively.

“Yes, that would be satisfactory. Thank you.”

“Oh… it’s no problem. I wasn’t doing anything anyway,” you chuckle, leading him through the rows upon rows of books and weaving through the different sections. This mystery man’s gait is smooth and soundless. You finally reach the section, feeling as though you should bow before moving to leave.

“Whelp, this is it. It’s really funny that you want to learn everything- I went through a phase like this- well not a phase, I’m an out of work history teacher now, you see that’s why this is so amusing to me. You probably don’t want to hear this, heh- I’ll be going then,” you turn around.

“Wait-” he tugs on your arm lightly. Goosebumps, you think as you shiver. “How about… you show me how to do this? Be my tutor, if you would. I’d like to learn. Please, my dear,” he asks so politely, so carefully.

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name-”

“It’s Loki. Now, please. I will compensate you for your time. Please,” his eyes are wide and pleading, and you can’t bring yourself to say no. Even though you should. Even though he seems somewhat dangerous, with how his eyes swirl with unknowable emotion. Even though you just learned his goddamn oddball name.

“Alright then, Loki. I’ll help you pick some books out. And then we’ll see,” you adhere, already knowing full well you’re giving in too easily. Loki listens intently as you explain how many books there are, how many world events have occurred. You end up talking with him, even laughing slightly at his clever words. Conversation with Loki is like playing backgammon: skill, and luck, and fun in an intellectually teasing way. He’s suave and charming, and so powerfully endearing. You make him laugh just once, talking about common legends of zombies and vampires. He laughs in disbelief, in mockery of humanity: but it’s a noise unlike anything you’ve heard. It rolls over your skin like a wave.

When you go to buy your books, you go to the register together. Your one book: and the five textbooks he’s holding. Utop of the intellect, utop of the beautiful, utop of the elegance: he’s strong. Loki carefully places his books on the checkout desk, and the cashier starts scanning them.

“And what choice of payment will you be using today?” the cashier asks calmly, offering a polite smile.

“Payment?”

“Yes. Credit, debit, or cash?” they repeat. Loki’s expression flutters, and you glimpse something beneath his easy face. Something that to be honest, makes you think that you were right to call him dangerous. You tentatively place you hand over his. Instantly, you nearly jerk your hand away: his body is so cold, it’s what you’d imagine a cadaver would feel like. But, insistent on comforting him, you stubbornly keep your hand on his. He breathes in a sharp breath, and his other hand fists by his side.

“Hey, I got it. Here’s my card: can you put my book on it too?” you smile gratefully at the cashier, who rings it up with shaking hands. Loki untenses as he watches.

“Did you forget your wallet at home or something, Loki?” you ask curiously. His eyes glance at you and then look away again.

“Yes. Yes, I did. This is very peculiar for me. Apologies,”

You chuckle.

“It’s fine, it’s only… oh my god, 230? That’s criminal!” you gasp. The cashier shrugs.

“Textbooks go for a lot these days, education is expensive,” they merely say, before handing your card back.

You’re trembling by the time the card is returned to your wallet. I’ll be broke. Late on rent, at the very least. I’ll have to skip meals to keep my apartment, and even then… that’s no measly sum.

Loki takes the books from the cashier and leads you out of the store. Once outside, he takes your book out of the bag and hands it to you.

“Much appreciated, my dear. Would you like to help me sort through this hefty amount of information?” he asks. You frown at him. He’s still asking about that?

“I’ll pay you handsomely. It will more than make up the price of these textbooks.”

“Oh?” The edge of Loki’s mouth pulls up in a half-smile.

“Of course. The least I could do.”

~~~~~

To say you were smitten with Loki after only two months of teaching him would be an understatement. You’ve been going to his immense apartment every three days since the day at the bookstore for ninety minutes at a time.

There’s something about him that’s made you memorize his mannerisms and phrases. When he’s exasperated, he likes to shout “By the Norns!”. When he’s reading, everything is still with the exception of his fingers that tap his thigh or sneak over to your knee and rub circles around it.

He’s smart as all hell. You rarely have to review anything anymore: he can take in the new information so quickly. And he immerses himself in the knowledge he acquires. You can tell that Loki adores it, adores the learning aspect. It’s childlike, almost, and so painfully endearing at this point that your heart pangs at his excitement.

And he always goes out of his way to be kind. You can tell that he’s holding back everything. It’s in his eyes, you’ve noticed: they start as an icy blue when you come in, but warm into emerald after you say hello. If that’s not romantic… you don’t know what is.

Every inch of your body flutters when Loki looks at you. It’s embarrassing, and you blush, and he teases you about it. You bite your lip and look up at his apartment building: you’re ten minutes early to his apartment. Should you just wait in the lobby? Humming tunelessly, you stroll into the huge high-ceilinged building. It’s frigid in the room, juxtaposing the easy sun outside. You shiver slightly and take a seat in one of the black chairs decorating the lobby to wait. Tapping your foot, look at your phone… it’s all fine until a harsh hand lands on your shoulder.

“Wow, I can’t believe I’d ever find you in a place like this!” a harsh bark laughs. You glance over your shoulder: it’s a past ex-boyfriend of yours. You didn’t know that they lived in the building. He smiles cruelly, knowingly.

“Why not?” you huff, closing yourself off from his overbearing presence.

“Because people with money go here. People who can afford things! That’s not you, bitch. You had to leech off my money the whole goddamn time we were together. You remember that?”

“I just… you said that-”

“Yeah, you do,” he brushes a lock of hair back, to which you hiss a hushed “Don’t touch me”. He merely chuckles. “God, such a golddigger.” You said what’s mine is yours, you said if I needed anything I could just ask and you’d help, I didn’t know- “Paying me back with that second rate body like a fucking slut.”

You shake and glare at him abrasively, but say nothing for fear of what he’d retaliate with. It wasn’t paying you back it was a fucking relationship-

“Bet you haven’t been seeing anyone else. No one else wants to take on that kind of fucking luggage, huh? God, you’re useless. And I heard you lost your job? Wow, no one can stand you. Could’ve told ya that,” he snorts. You’re shaking now. You convince yourself you won’t give him the pleasure of making you cry, so instead, you’re looking at the asshole angrily.

“You shut up. I have a new job now, I’m tutoring-”

“Haha- tutoring? No wonder. Then they don’t have to see you every day! Wow, that’s smart. Because they’ll be able to cancel on you at any time. Truly a good thing. God, I wish I could’ve done that with you. So fucking clingy,” he’s smirking, and you want to cry, and then he’s being pulled back aggressively.

Loki growls at the man, who suddenly seems quite small and meek comparatively.

“Get out of here,” he snarls at the man, who trembles at his sharp words.

“B-but I live h-here-”

“Go out then,” Loki’s voice does not waver for a moment. It is strong and dangerous and protective and the man who had been spitting such vileness runs with his tail between his legs. Loki watches him go steely before helping you from your seat. His arm holds your waist tightly, restricting your movements as he all but drags you to the elevator.

“Who in Hel was that bastard?” Loki asks you with no lack of malice: his tone is seething and his eyes swirl icicle.

“Just an ex-boyfriend of mine,” you whisper, still trying to reign in the tears. Loki is muttering things under his breath, the words rising and falling in inflection but indistinguishable from one another. Loki’s arm never leaves your torso. You make it all the way upstairs, all the way to Loki’s beautiful apartment. He’s still muttering to himself, his body tense when you excuse yourself to the bathroom near silently.

You close the door, listening for the quiet click of the lock, before breaking down and crying. How mortifying. Loki had to come down and pick you up like a lost kitten, how useless you must seem to him now. You’re sure that Loki hadn’t thought you some poor wretch but now he should. You mourn the loss of Loki, the loss of this relationship that you were already attached to. There’s a harsh knock on the door.

“S-sorry, just give me a minute, I’ll be out in a moment-” you sniffle, trying very hard to make it seem like you're not crying in his fancy bathroom. The knocking continues, and then suddenly halts. You breathe in. And breathe out, and then the door is knocked off its hinges.

You whirl around to face the intruder: Loki, leg extended, looking murderous. His eyes soften as you squint at him through the tears. It’s slow and seemingly something that Loki is not used to when he bends to your level on the ground and wraps his arms around you hesitantly. You lean on him, letting him take you in his arms completely.

“Oh, my dear… you’re trembling. Please don’t cry,” he murmurs, face landing in your hair, “Don’t cry, my dear.”

You sniffle, “I’m not crying.”

“Don’t lie to me, sweet,” he says: part of you thinks it was supposed to be a joke, but he says it with such dark connotations that you don’t dare laugh. You just nestle in close to his cold body, feeling hot yourself.

“He’ll never bother you again. I’ll make sure of it. Shh, I’ve got you now,” Loki says, and his lips move down to your temple and press in sweetly. You gasp and nearly fall out of his arms. Loki catches you before it can happen, and stands up fluidly. You’re still in his arms, and not the lightest person: clearly, his strength is immense. He knocks down a door and holds you like it’s nothing. He looks at you sharply, daring you to speak.

“Why…?” you ask slowly, mouth feeling dry as his eyes bore into you.

“Why not, my dear? You’re beautiful,” he whispers, letting his breath dance over your ear. You shiver, and he takes it as an invitation to press a kiss onto the shell of your ear. “You’re so very smart… you’d think you’d notice by now how much I want you… I’d like to keep you,”

“Loki, why are you-”

“Shh,” he instructs, his eyes green and warm now, “I know you want me, my dear. I know it,”

You’re so embarrassed. Were you that obvious? Ugh. You place a hand on his muscular arm, pressing it to signal that you’d like to leave.

“No no, my dear. Please don’t go, stay with me… I’ll take such good care of you,” he says softly, pulling in close. “Don’t you know me by now? I’d never hurt you. Never forsake you.”

“Loki, I’m s-supposed to be your tutor, for god sakes, I-I can’t-” you stutter, blushing profusely. He’s so fast, he’s moving so fast all of a sudden, why-

“Then quit. Norns, woman… it’s not so hard,” he growls, his grip tightening around you. You yelp a little in surprise. His arms loosen immediately and he sets you on the ground with a guilty expression. “Apologies,” he says hoarsely. You laugh awkwardly and take a step back.

You avoid Loki’s gaze and rather watch his hands. Because you know, you know, if you look at him you’ll be swallowed up and the next thing you know you’re in his heinously comfortable embrace. Loki’s hands quiver at his sides for a moment and then they hesitantly rise. You watch carefully as they move upwards until they’re cupping your face. You’re unaware until it happens that you’re staring right into his eyes.

Green. Green as forests that you’ve only seen in pictures, green like dancing leaves in summer, green like liquid emeralds.

“My dear… please don’t shut me out. I can’t lose you. You’re all I have. Please. I’m desperate,” he murmurs: you can bring yourself to look away from those mesmerizing eyes. He’s gorgeous, he’s so pretty-

“Alright,” you whisper, then louder, “Alright. I can’t bring myself to say no to you,” you smile. Loki breathes a deep breath of relief before snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you in close. He barely checks if you truly want this before pressing your lips together. He dominates completely, pulling you close and pressing in more all at once. It’s intense and demanding and you melt. You’re melting into him, and he’s so very cold as he pulls you up into his arms and carries you away.

~~~~~

Swept away. That’s how things felt. You were no longer in your own life, you existed solely in Loki’s. You lost yourself over and over in his arms, in his kisses. He told you he loved you. No, he tells you he loves you.

You said it first, of course: “I love you,” over a cup of hot coffee. Loki looked at you with raised brows: “I love you too, of course.” It rolled off his tongue so smoothly, effortlessly. He pressed a kiss onto your forehead and then asked to continue the lessons.

It’s magic. It’s magic that has lasted for nearly a year now. So much so that you’re head over heels with what you used to think could be nothing but fantasy.

You live in his apartment now, for the most part: he’s never been to your own drab place but pays for it anyway while he keeps you. Loki pays for your food, eats your meals beside you. He accompanies you everywhere you wish to go. He hangs on every word you say, every memory you impart with a bemused calmness. He lets you rest on his side, snuggling in, and watch all sorts of movies. And you’re still telling him every piece of knowledge you know about the world.

Loki’s odd sometimes. He doesn’t understand the simplest things: the grocery store still eludes him, and it took him ages to discover that phones have larger capabilities than just texting and calling. Loki gets upset about it… when the television doesn’t work, when his delivery is late, when you can’t explain why a thing is doing something. He’ll spit foreign curses and sometimes, though it’s rare, things break. Loki apologizes instantly after: buys you a better, more expensive item to replace it. Make-up kisses and snuggles. He holds you tightly, close to his chest, so near that you can’t even move.

You think- no, you know that Loki’s not of this world. He’s an alien, or a vampire, or something. He won’t tell you which, rather chuckles at your attempts to deduce his origin. There was one point where he pulled a scepter from midair: you gawked.

“Magic,” you whispered, “You have magic.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” he had said lightly, teasingly. He held his scepter with a practiced grace: you watched enraptured as the gem suspended on it glows an alluring sapphire. You looked to Loki, shocked.

What you saw in his eyes made you want to look away again. The stunning blue, matching that of the scepter… how his eyes bored into the gem obsessively, how his mouth was forming words and sentences near silently. It was a movement you know all too well: it’s the one he likes to do in the early morning. Whispers of sweet words, promises, and adorations. It had been uncomfortable. Too uncomfortable.

“Loki,” you had started, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder. And he had nearly swatted your hand away, his mouth pulling animalistically before he caught himself and apologized. Apologized profusely, at the sight of your eyes tearing up. Magicked the scepter away alongside his ice eyes and held you, murmuring lovely nothings. It’s in the past now, anyway.

Except for select parts. Select parts that relapse again and again. As time passes, Loki… changes. He’s angrier. Vengeful, with eyes of winter. He’ll be fine one moment, and the next he’s spitting vile at something or other. Occasionally it’s you. And you try to take the brunt of it, knowing full well that he doesn’t mean it, he loves you… and he comes to his senses after a moment anyway, assuring you that it was just a spell. And you kiss.

It’s a relationship, though you haven’t put any labels on it. You’re glad for that… because if you were still his tutor, yesterday would’ve been the last session. There is no more to learn. No more to teach. You can’t help but smile to yourself: now it’s just you and Loki, nothing providing a reason for the relationship to be anything short of dating.

Today is normal. Well, the new normal. You wake up to a cold bed: you can never tell how long he had been out of the sheets. He was always cold in them, cold outside them.

“Loki?” you grumble, feeling around the sheets. Nothing. He’s up already. Groaning, you stretch your body as you exit the bed. Sore, as per usual, after Loki has his way. You stumble out to the kitchen where Loki has his hands pressed into the counter and his back away from you. Smiling silently, you pad over to his back and embrace him.

“Loki- we’re all done! No more lessons, just me and you,” you sing-song cheerfully, sunshine and love, and- he backhands you suddenly with his left hand, with such force that your face slaps to the side and forces you to the floor. Tears spring to your eyes: from the pain yes, but also the betrayal. He hit you. Square across the face. Loki snarls above you, standing over your body intimidatingly. If you hadn’t been intimate with this man, you would’ve thought he was a demon with eyes of the frozen sea.

“Useless bitch! Wretch, you dare lay your hands on me? You are but a toy, a harlot- you do what I tell you and nothing more. You must be truly naive to think that you are anything above that. Now, bow to your king, beg for forgiveness,” he demands. You’re terrified, clutching onto your quickly reddening face and staring at him. “Kneel!” he yells.

“L-Loki, I don’t understand- why would you- why would you hit me?” you stammer as tears start to fall.

“You truly, hah, you’re truly a fool. Idiotic mewling quim,” he bends down to your level and with the same hand as before, slaps you the other way. “No one will ever love you. I used you, and now you have no use to me. So either submit and I’ll find a reason for you, something that fits your status… not a consort for a king, no, perhaps just a holding place until I find someone better... so, wench,” he grabs onto your stinging and bruised jaw with that ethereal strength, “Submit to your savior or get out of my sight. You are not worthy. Of my time. My presence. My being. You are nothing.”

He laughs maliciously as you cry and struggle to get up from your sprawled position on the floor.

“You’re trembling,” he notes aloud, sneering. You make a strangled noise: had once remarked the same thing, but with such kindness and caring and with a hug to boot. And now… and now, he steps on your face with light pressure, enough to make it hurt. “Stop it, and answer me.” You’re crying heavily now, sobs ripping themselves out of your chest, and it takes the last of your strength to punch the inside of his knee on the leg that’s holding you down.

Loki grunts and stumbles back, and you race away to the bedroom before he can regain his bearings. You lock the door with quivering fingers and slide down it before devolving into tears completely.

I thought we were okay. I thought this was it.

You’re sitting there, shaking, as you hear Loki’s feet stomp their way to the door. Your phone is charging fruitlessly in the living room: there’s no landline in the bedroom either. The penthouse that Loki’s in is way too far up to escape by a window if you want to survive the fall. Truly, hiding in the bedroom was not one of your wisest choices. You hear his footsteps, pounding the floorboards approach… until they falter before the only thing barring his entry into the bedroom. You crawl to the door of the closet: maybe if you’re quiet, you can hide there without a hitch. And he’ll be back in his right mind.

Bits and pieces of mutterings make it through the two closed doors: things like “no, stop”, “insolent”, “disobey”, “fine”, “go”, “stay”, “carry out”, “die”, “how could you”. The door slams: then his footsteps sound, quieter as he goes away. You breathe a sigh of relief, the breath coming out staggered, and lean against the side of the closet before crying a little more and gingerly touching your swelling cheeks.

How did I get here?

~~~~~

When you finally exit the bedroom, a good hour after the event, you’ve decided to forgive him already. You know it’s bad, and you know you shouldn’t but… you love him. And that’s bad, he’s bad but… perhaps you’re making him better? You are, you’re sure of it.

Tiptoeing out of the room, you hear the tell-tale sound of water running. You peek first from the corner of the hall. Loki’s simply at the sink, washing something or other. He seems peaceful. Docile. There’s a rhythmic “scritch scritch scritch” as Loki cleans. You grab your phone from its charging spot, just in case, before striding up to Loki’s straight-backed figure. You clear your throat when you stand behind him. Surprising him with a hug hadn’t been the best idea before.

“L-Loki? Is… is everything okay? Did something happen? If it’s about what happened... it-it’s okay. You weren’t in your right mind. I know you, I know you’re not like that: you’re so good to me! It’s just one time. It won’t happen again. I forgive you,” you smile at his back kindly, and take a step forward when he doesn’t respond. A step after another, set to the tune of “scritch scritch scritch”. “Loki, I’m going to hug you now, if that’s okay.”

You reach up with a quivering hand to tap his shoulder, having to step closer in the process, and what you see makes you stumble.

He’s not cleaning the dishes.

Loki is using the steel wool you use to clean the pans on… on his left hand. It’s shredded, horribly shredded: blood coats the sink and his arm, slowly going down the drain mixed with the running water. The scritch noise was… was his bones in his hands against the wool. His body shakes as you gasp, horrified.

“Oh my god, what are you- what are you doing, Loki, stop,” you sob, reaching forwards to pull the wool out of his hand. Your action is halted by the sudden clamping of his right hand on your wrist, the wool landing in the sink: it holds you steadfast and still with his much superior strength. His head turns to yours, and you can’t help but whimper at the emotions in his teary eyes.

Despair.

Hopelessness.

Pain.

And most worryingly…

Fear. Palpable, incredible, fear in those green eyes: they swirl dangerously with blue in a battle that you can’t help but feel terrified of. Loki whines like a scared child, his eyes wide as he clearly struggles to let go of your hand.

“Loki, let’s just calm down now, we need- we need to get you to a hospital,” you cry, gently removing your hand from his grip as it laxes just a bit. Loki shakes his head slightly, all he can muster.

His mouth moves, and no words come out. You watch patiently with shaking shoulders as he battles with himself to get the words out. When they finally come, garbled and quiet and painful to hear, it’s not affirmation or an apology or a declaration of love. It’s…

“Run. Please.”

You stagger backward in shock.

“But… but I love you, we can do this-”

He shakes his head, an “I’m sorry” being mouthed, and then his face distorts in pain. His bloody hand constricts around itself, shaking.

“Run, now! Never return, ever,” he growls.

You glance at his wrecked hand, then back at Loki’s tearful eyes, and then at his pained expression. He… he isn’t right. Something is happening to him, and you are not the one who can fix it. You cannot help him here. You know that, but you have a connection to him, you’re in love-

“I’ve never loved you. I’m… I’m so sorry- I think that with time and in different circumstances I could’ve but… ngk- you have to leave, before it’s too late. Go as far away as you can, quickly as you can. Things are coming, and you… you are but a mere foolish girl who loves too easily. You do not deserve the fate that the others will experience,” he grits out.

Your heart shatters.

Every snuggle on the couch, every peck over cooking eggs, every “I love you”. Months of your life, months spent in love, months with who you though yourself undeserving of and how goddamn amazing it is that you’re with him and he loves you and you wanted to spend your life with him oh god-

“Oh god,” you cry, tears spilling in great numbers, “I- Fuck! I can’t believe this, I-I I thought-”

“Leave,” Loki demands, a now all too familiar malice creeping into his tone, and you trip over your feet grabbing your coat and phone and wallet before leaving for good. Something is terribly wrong with this man, and you can’t help him. You don’t want to help him at this point, with all his lies and manipulations.

You leave alone.

You leave mourning the loss of months of your life.

You leave brokenhearted.

~~~~

And there’s something about watching Loki decimate the city you love on the television a few weeks later, in a new town with a new job and a new home, that makes you feel as though broken dreams and departed love will never ever allow you to have peace of mind.

~~~~

That’s it... Thanks for reading. 

Taglists: 

Anything & Everything: @myraiswack, @blindtaleteller, @head-over-heart, @karushinekomiya 

The Loki boy: @butterfly-in-progress, @loki-yoursaviourishere, @sweet-talkin-woman , @frostedgiant , @is-it-madness

If you enjoyed, please reblog- it truly means the world.

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[witharthurkirkland]

Something Lost Something Found

Summary: Who would ever steal form the living legend himself? That no good Yuuri Katsuki, that’s who! …Or not?

Notes: This is based on a prompt I got on ao3. I am always happy to get more prompts!

Pairing: Yuuri Katsuki/Victor Nikiforov (in the Bad Apple AU, so featuring Bad Boy Yuuri and Innocent Victor Nikiforov)

Read it here or on ao3

Yuuri Katsuki, 5-time world silver medalist, walked into the change room angry with himself, angry with the world, but mostly angry with the 5-time world champion who…

…who was going through his stuff.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

Victor Nikiforov, said 5-tme champion and thorn in Yuuri’s side, jumped up in embarrassment, clutching something in his hand. He stuttered something incoherent for several minutes before drawing himself up to his full height, which, although impressive, wasn’t enough to intimidate anyone. Cute little puppies could do a better job of being intimidating than Victor Angel-of-Figure-Skating Nikiforov.

Yuuri suppressed a laugh.

“Just taking back what you stole from me!” Victor exclaimed.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“This!” He held out a photo he’d stolen from Yuuri’s wallet of his dog, Vicchan.

“That’s my dog,” Yuuri said.

“No, it’s not! That’s my dog!” Victor protested.

“No, it’s mine.” Yuuri crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of lockers. He could pull out his phone and show proof that he had a dog just like Victor’s, but he didn’t feel like it. Besides, that could lead to the dangerous question of why he had a dog identical to Victor’s and with Victor’s name in the first place.

But, for some reason, this was persuasive enough for Victor. He gave a sad sigh and his head dropped. “I’m sorry. They-they keep saying that you’re a terrible person without morals who will do things just to mess with people and when I saw it was gone I thought maybe… maybe you stole it to get back at me for… for always beating you…” He gave another sigh as Yuuri suppressed the urge to say something nasty. “I guess that means he took it. I hoped it wasn’t him. I… I’d rather it was you, to be honest.” He raised his head and gave Yuuri a sad smile, handing the photo back to him.

“Who the hell are you going on about?”

“I have a fan,” Victor began, “well, a lot, actually, but there is this one fan who won’t leave me alone. He keeps following me around and asking me to go out with him.”

“And you won’t go out with him?” Hell, I’d break the guy’s arm if he tried something like that with me, but don’t you just do anything people tell you?

“Why should I?” Victor exclaimed and Yuuri found himself respecting the man, even if only a little bit. “I…” He blushed deeply and turned away. “I… I like someone else.”

Yuuri shrugged. Obviously this someone else, if they actually existed, was someone who Victor hadn’t confessed their feelings to. “Then why don’t you tell this guy to screw off?” He said dismissively. “Or,” he imagined how Victor would phrase it, “or “my good sir, why don’t you please get lost?” Something like that, anyway.”

“I tried. I told him I’m not interested. I asked him to go away…” Victor lowered his eyes and fidgeted.

“Then tell him you have a boyfriend.” Surely even you can tell a little white lie!

“I can’t lie about that!” Victor exclaimed. “I’m Victor Nikiforov! Everyone follows my life on every single social media network available!”

“Of course they do. How could I possibly forget?” Yuuri rolled his eyes.

It was a stupid idea, but Yuuri had gone beyond caring what others would think or say a long time ago. It was probably also the least original idea in the world.

“I’ll deal with him. Come with me,” he ordered and headed out of the change room.

Victor rushed after him. “What-what will you do?”

“Tell him to back off.”

“But it won’t work! I already tried that.” And then Victor stepped in front of him. “I-I won’t let you hurt him or… or threaten to hurt him!”

Yeah, as if you can actually prevent me from doing that. I can break most of the bones in your body, if I wanted to. “Who said anything about hurting anyone?”

“I know about you,” Victor stammered out. “Bad Yuuri, they all call you. Y-you’re no good and you…”

Yuuri watched with mild amusement as the most innocent man he’d ever met tried to tell him off, acting as if he’d put “kick me” signs on people’s backs and left thumbtacks on the teacher’s chair.

Oh, I won’t deny what you’re saying, but you have no idea how bad I really am. And because I’m a real bastard I will do something extremely nasty. “You done yet, teach?”

“Yuuri! Promise me you won’t hurt him!”

“Alright, alright, and I’ll go to church on Sundays and all that crap.” He saw the confused look on Victor’s face and sighed. “I promise I won’t hurt him. Now take me to him.”

He let Victor lead the way out to where all the press was and the screaming fans were in a big group, chanting something stupid as usual.

“That’s him,” Victor said quietly.

Exhibit A, as Yuuri would’ve called him, if he’d been a cop, was your standard disgusting I-wish-I’d-never-met-fans-like-you kind of fan. He made Yuuri’s screaming fans who threw their underwear to him look like a dream come true. It was impossible to like a fan like him even if he had a great personality. He was gross and creepy and probably had every single merchandise with Victor on it ever made.

Yuuri let his face twist in disgust as he headed straight for him. “Hey, you! Yeah, you ugly! Back away from my boyfriend!”

“Y-your boyfriend?” the fan repeated, stepping back. “Who on Earth are you talking about?” He looked around, as if trying to find someone with a giant “Yuuri’s boyfriend” sign in their hands.

“Victor Nikiforov! Ever heard of him?” Which was a stupid question in any other circumstances: the man had a shirt with Victor’s picture on it, as well as his name in case he ever forgot who to cheer for in a competition.

“What?” the fan exclaimed in something approaching a squeal. “As if Victor Nikiforov would ever go out with you!”

Right back at you, moron. “Well, he is!” Yuuri insisted. He turned to look at the living legend. “Isn’t that right, babe?” You deny this, I swear to god, I’m walking straight out of here and you can deal with Sleazy on your own.

“Yes!” Victor exclaimed, blushing. “Yes, he is!” It sounded a little too desperate to be convincing, but that didn’t matter.

“See?” Yuuri said, eyeing Victor out of the corner of his eye, waiting for him to apologize for lying.

“I don’t believe you!” the fan insisted, spluttering. God, the man didn’t so much say his words as spray them!

“Oh, you want proof, do you?” Yuuri demanded acidly. The fan was starting to really get on his nerves. He debated beating him up anyway. “You don’t believe my word, fine I get that, but not even goody-two-shoes over here? The man couldn’t lie, if his life depended on it!” Actually, Yuuri was a little surprised Victor had gone along with his little deception. Maybe he was very desperate, more desperate to get rid of Sleazy than Yuuri had initially thought. “I suppose you want me to tell you all about the sex we had last night. How we kept half the floor awake with our screams? Or how Victor kept begging for more? Is that what you want to hear?” He was inventing as he went, but that didn’t matter. He was good at inventing on the fly.

“A-as if Victor would have sex with you!” Sleazy shouted back.

Yuuri was almost insulted. Almost.

They looked at Victor and Yuuri waited for the inevitable denial. Here was the living legend’s reputation as an innocent angel at stake. What would he do next?

“I-it’s true!” Victor insisted. “He did! And he’s really good! That’s why I kept begging for more!” His face was so red it was almost purple.

“This is a trick!” Sleazy said, showing that, against all other available evidence, he had a functioning brain. “Isn’t it? You’re just pretending!”

Yuuri was really getting into his stride now. “Oh you want me to pull all of the used condoms out of my garbage can? Or, maybe, we should go and find the cleaning staff that was in my room this morning and ask them if they were traumatized by what they found?” Yuuri’s imagination was starting to run out on him. If the fan had asked him what the cleaning staff could’ve possibly found, he would’ve been forced to admit that he had absolutely no idea. “All just to prove it to you? You want to hear all the gory details? Well, screw you and all the people like you! You’re just a nasty, pathetic little man who knows he can’t get it on with anyone and picks a weak target to terrorize instead. We don’t owe you anything! You got that? Absolutely nothing and it doesn’t matter if we have someone or not!”

Yuuri paused, because breathing had to happen eventually. He took in the glow in Victor’s eyes and tried to keep back from snapping. Don’t look at me like that! You should be the one saying this, not me! Why do I have to stand up for you? Why can’t you –

His brain ground to a halt as Victor leaned forward, put his hands carefully on his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek.

He pulled away almost as soon as his lips touched Yuuri’s face. “S-sorry, I… uh…”

“If you’re going to kiss me, do it properly.” Now what will you do?

Victor’s response was to do just that: he pressed his lips against Yuuri’s with all the enthusiasm of someone who’d heard that kissing was a thing people did, but had no idea how it worked. He managed to hit Yuuri’s nose with his own too.

Yuuri pulled away to get into a better starting position and lunged at the living legend, pulling him close with his arms.

And how long will you keep this up for?

“Oh my god! I don’t believe it! Everyone! Victor Nikiforov is dating Yuuri Katsuki!” the fan screamed and ran off.

Yuuri pulled away when it became obvious that Victor forgot how to do that. “Well?” he raised an eyebrow. “Now what?”

“Will you go out with me?” Victor asked.

“Might as well keep up pretences, huh?”

“No!” Victor protested. Yuuri released him, but Victor caught him by the arms. “I really want to go out with you! …Um… if you want to.” He lowered his eyes. “They keep telling me that you’re no good, but I can’t help it. I-if you want, we can just go out for a little while and… um… maybe you’ll like being with me. I know you must hate me…”

Yuuri watched Victor flail and avoid the main words, feeling his eyebrows rise higher on his forehead.

“Wait!” he interrupted. “Hold on. What are you saying?”

“I like you, Yuuri,” Victor admitted, blushing. “I’ve liked you for a while now…”

“Oh, so not for all of the last ten minutes?” Yuuri asked, only half-joking.

“What? N-no…”

“And here I thought you were just really turned on by my description of the sex we supposedly had last night.”

Victor blushed deeper. “I… uh… We can do that too, if-if you want.”

Yuuri burst out laughing. “What? Bad Yuuri go out with pure and innocent Victor? And then strip him of his innocence? Really?”

“I’m sorry… you probably hate me…”

Yuuri swung out and gave Victor a smack on his backside. “Hate? No, I don’t hate you. If anything, I find you annoying. As in: it’s annoying how perfect you are, how you keep beating me in every competition, how you actually are amazing at skating and it’s not just biased judging that gets you your gold medals.” Victor stared up into Yuuri’s face in surprise. “It’s annoying how, despite the fact that you’re a goody-two-shoes, which should disgust me, being against everything I believe in, I still can’t hate you.” He reached out and pinched Victor’s cheek. “It’s annoying that you’re so damn beautiful. No one has the right to be that beautiful.”

Victor put a hand over his cheek where Yuuri had pinched him.

“And I want to go out with you,” Yuuri said, “but…”

“But?”

“Only if you give me another kiss.”

Victor leaned forward, but Yuuri put a hand over his mouth, “Oh, and I pinched this from Sleazy’s pocket.” He held up the photo of Victor’s dog. “Do I deserve a kiss from the great god of figure skating himself now?”

Victor took Yuuri’s face in his hands. “Yes.”

The press chose that moment to stop milling about uselessly on the side somewhere and circle the living legend and the runner up as their kiss really got going. Cameras were primed and aimed at the two skaters to document this historic event as well as any deep and meaningful words that would be said afterwards.

Yuuri, knowing full well the kind of crap newspapers loved writing about, waited until he got enough before pulling away and saying, “Well, babe? My room or yours this time?”

“I-I don’t know,” Victor admitted, his hands on his head, looking dizzy.

Yuuri laughed. “You might want to take your skates off first, though.”

And he knew that regardless of what the press wrote about them the near future was going to be full of innocent sappy dates. And probably ice cream.

He saw another skater coming down the hall towards them and tried to remember his name. Wasn’t he friends with Victor?

“Kiss me again,” Victor said, turning around to face him.

“What’s this I hear about you two going out?” the skater asked.

And then hell arrived in the shape of Victor’s coach. He barged past everyone, elbowing people out of his way until he was right in front of Yuuri. “You! Stay away from my pupil! You got that?”

“No, Yakov!” Victor stepped between them. “Yuuri is my boyfriend and I won’t let you hurt him!”

Everyone in the hallway suppressed the urge to burst out laughing. It was obvious from the expressions on their faces how much they wanted to laugh at the living legend at that moment.

“Really, Vitya? Why are you encouraging these silly rumours?”

“They’re not rumours! It’s true!” Victor protested.

Yuuri put an arm around him. ��You got a problem with that, old man?”

Yakov had the look of someone who just discovered that the hurricane that he’d been hearing about was about to come and tear his own house apart. “Absolutely not!”

“Then I’m retiring from figure skating!” Victor exclaimed.

Everyone went absolutely silent. The words echoed down the hall.

“I’m retiring,” Victor repeated in a quieter tone of voice. “Let’s go, Yuuri.” He caught Yuuri’s hand in his own and smiled. “I can be your coach, if you want.”

They went inside the change room, still followed by the stunned crowd. Under several pairs of watchful eyes Yuuri lowered himself onto his knees in front of Victor and removed his skates. It wasn’t comfortable, because he was still in skates himself, but in that moment it didn’t matter: he’d just snatched the living legend away from the whole world and he was going to flaunt the fact as much as he could.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered, blushing.

“You can’t decide to retire just like that!” Yakov burst out, apparently remembering how to speak.

Victor ignored him, staring into Yuuri’s face. “I’m all yours, Yuuri,” he said with a big smile, taking Yuuri’s head in both hands.

Much later there was the backlash from the press. There were nasty rumours going around about Yuuri and his influence over Victor. People said it was blackmail, or that Yuuri had somehow bullied Victor into going out with him. Someone brought up abuse.

No one knew that that evening they sat outside on a bench, their arms around each other.

“I like the dark,” Victor whispered. “It’s so mysterious…” He looked into Yuuri’s face.

“You’re not really going to retire?” Yuuri asked.

“Of course not!” Victor said. He pulled the photo out of his pocket. “Do you really have a dog just like mine?”

“Yep.”

“What’s his name?”

“Victor.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “You didn’t…?”

“No,” Yuuri lied. “There was a boy named Victor I was in love with when I was younger. He had long blond hair and he was really good at figure skating.” Crap!

Victor chuckled. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Yeah, whatever.” But you’re going to be smug about this, aren’t you?

“My dog’s name is Yuuri,” Victor said.

“Yeah, I always wondered about that…” Yuuri (not the dog Yuuri, but the skater Yuuri) admitted.

“There was this boy I was in love with when I was younger,” Victor went on. “He had short black hair and he was very good at figure skating.”

They stared at each other in silence for several seconds as the meaning of what they’d said to each other sunk in.

“Seriously?” Yuuri asked.

“Yep!” Victor beamed.

“It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one who acted like a moron all these years.”

Victor laughed and buried his face in Yuuri’s neck, reaching out for Yuuri’s hands. “Yuuri?” he whispered after a while.

“Hmmm?” God! That feels really good!

“H-have you gone out with anyone before?”

“Nope.” And that was the absolute truth. He’d been too busy killing people to remember that apart from hate there were other emotions available (well, with Victor being the exception, as it turned out).

“S-so… um…” He paused and pulled his face away to look into Yuuri’s eyes. “D-do you know how to… um…?”

Yuuri laughed. “Not a clue.” He pinched Victor’s face again, laughing at his expression. “I guess we’ll have to figure it out. We can experiment and see what works and then write a paper into the medical journal of your choice.”

“Um…” there was that puzzled embarrassment again.

“I was kidding. You can worry about it, if you want, lose sleep and all that, but it doesn’t really matter. Not yet, anyway.” He released Victor and reclined against the back of the bench. “Besides, that’s what the Internet is for.”

How had they moved so fast? And with Victor Nikiforov of all people!

The world sure was full of odd surprises. He felt Victor rest his head against his shoulder and closed his eyes.

And there were probably more surprises in the future…