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lettrespromises · 4 years ago

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la querelle des coeurs. - kuroo, atsumu, daichi.

@luveranime sent a letter : ❝ Me again lmao 😂 could you do one where kuroo, atsumu and daichi’s s/o has a ex best friend and they try to take their bf away from their s/o but then their s/o like angrily lashes out? Then like a cute fluffy ending :) ❞

author’s letter : ❝ aaaaa, it’s always pleasure to see you in my inbox!! thank you so much for trusting me with all your prompts, it means the world. ooooh, i love myself some angst to fluff especially with kuroo. i hope you’ll enjoy your promised letter!

sealed with a kiss. sincerely yours, nikki. ❞

genre : kinda fluff, kinda angst. warnings : cursing, toxic friendship.

Now, now, now, Kuroo like the gorgeous scorpio he is has some kind of sixth sense when it comes to lies, basically, you could consider him as a human lie detector. This talent of his extends to being able to discern people’s true nature- given that he is someone who doesn’t trust people easily, he’s even more careful around people he doesn’t deem as trustworthy.

Truth be told, he doesn’t come as a surprise to him when you tell him that you had a succession of arguments with your best friend, to the point where you felt obligated to cut ties with them.

You can tell from miles away that the sentence “I don’t want to say I told you so, but I told you so, kitten.” is burning the tip of his tongue, begging him to be set free so he could rub his pseudo sixth sense in your face.

From now on, Kuroo morphs into ‘super protective mode’, he just wants to protect you from any emotional harm, he knows how vicious your former best friend is, after all, he always knew.

He will walk with you everywhere, cradle you into his embrace if you feel the need to shed a couple of tears- he picks up the shattered pieces of your broken self and glues them one by one and seals them with a kiss or a heartfelt compliment.

After several days, Kuroo’s efforts and dedication to make you feel better finally sets in. Your introspection sunk in and you feel the aftereffects bloom- you feel fearless, powerful, and you came to agree with yourself on stating that you are indeed better off alone.

The plot twists in the hallways of your school- your arm is wrapped around Kuroo’s, just the way you like it. His orbs never leave you frame and anyone could tell how the gleam in his eyes reflect his love and adoration for you.

Needless to say, his favorite time of the day was when he could have lunch with you and listen to your ramblings while observing your divine traits. However, being academically smart doesn’t prevent him from being a airhead at times : “Kitten, I totally forgot to grab myself something to drink. Will you wait for me at our spot? I’ll be quick.” “You already know where to find me then, Tetsu.”

And with that, he leaves you in the middle of the hall (but not before planting a peck on your forehead.) On his way to the vending machine, he sees none other than your former best-friend, body leaning onto said vending machine, as if they were waiting for him to come out after witnessing your discussion.

The plain expression plastered upon Kuroo’s facial expression speaks louder than a thousand words revolving around the lexical field of anger. Nonetheless, he tells himself that if he ignores them, then there will be no harm done, unless...

“Hey there, Kuroo. I knew you’d miss me! Don’t worry, baby, I missed you just as much.”

The person you once called your best friend orientates their body in a strategic way so they’re closer to Kuroo, their whole body facing him. Of course, he didn’t miss the poor attempts to get him to pay attention to them. Their whole body language screamed ‘acknowledge me.’

Kuroo remained stoic and pushed the coins inside the vending machine instead. This lack of attention only emphasized their anger and in return, their level of patience diminished gradually. But they had another ace hidden in their sleeve, and this time, attitude matched their actions- your former best friend grabbed the hem of Kuroo’s collar while their other hand was planted at the back of his neck to force him to look on what they deemed as the only important person here.

“Kuroo, baby, I’m so glad you came to see me, because let’s face it : you’re only here because you know you’d see me here. Have you finally realized that Y/N was not good enough for you? You want a real significant other, don’t you?”

If hearing the sound of their voice was disgusting enough, imagine how filthy Kuroo felt when he sensed a foreign body throw themselves on him- his skin was burning under the poisoning touch of your former best friend.

Now, now. The ‘you’ topic was quite the sensitive one to Kuroo, given that he would and could put anyone in their place if he happened to hear a ill word about you. “I’m going to say this once : don’t play a game you can’t win so don’t say another thing about Y/N.”

Oh, but would this stop them? Absolutely not. Their hand travelled from the back of their neck to the muscular reliefs on his chest, an area only you had the luxury you to touch and worship. “Don’t be like that, Kuroo. I know I can touch you, love you and at least I won’t fake it like Y/N does.” they concluded their sentence with a wink sent his way and Kuroo could already feel the taste of vomit invading his tastebud.

In one sharp motion, he grabbed their wrist and yanked himself free of their intoxicating clutch. Just his luck, he thought, while your former best friend cursed silently under their breath as they saw you arrive.

“Tetsu, are you okay? What’s taking you so long?”

Oh and here it was, the pure grin which radiated nothing but pure mischief- your presence signed the end and what a beautiful ending it was for him. “Maybe you should ask them, kitten. They were rambling about how I should date them instead of you. Can you believe that bullshit?”

Your eyes darted onto a familiar frame, but just by glancing at them, you felt all the inner rage overwhelm you, including all the pain you had to go through. It was like facing your own nightmare, but you’ve never been alone to fight your battles- Kuroo has always been there by your side.

“You said what now?”

Your stare emanated nothing but pure and intense rage, your whole body language testified of your inner envy to make them choke on their own words.

“I said-...”

“If you think for a single second I’m going to let you talk, you’re dead wrong. You’ve been feeding me enough lies during all this time we were ‘friends’, and now, you’re throwing yourself on my man? You really have nothing for you, do you now? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go grab lunch with my boyfriend. I’m not sure you’ve ever heard of him but his name is Kuroo Testurou, you know, the man you’ll never get?”

Kuroo couldn’t help but to let a snicker break free from his lips, this scene was wonderful to watch. An immense wave of pride washed over him, and it struck him again, he realized for the umpteenth time how lucky he was to share his life with you.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you close to his side and delivered a peck full of love upon the flesh of your cheek. “I didn’t know you had all of this hidden in you, kitten. Not gonna lie, it’s kinda hot.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and punched his arm as his words connected with your eardrums, “You’re so lucky I love you.”

“Don’t get it twisted, kitten, I’m lucky one here.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

It’s safe to say that Atsumu does have a reputation that follows him around, he his the local heartthrob of his school and he secretly takes pride in that. But nothing fills his heart with pride more than being able to call you his.

Being Atsumu’s girlfriend, you are indirectly exposed to threats, insults and other acerbic remarks coming from his fangirls. Sometimes these attacks are direct like dirty talks behind your back when you’re holding his hand in the middle of the halls, and other times, it’s more subtle and the perfect example of that is how the person you used to call your best friend took advantage of your relationship status to get closer to Atsumu.

They made it clear and had no shame hiding behind their shameful shenanigans, “Did you really think I was talking to you for your personality? Get real, Y/N, I don’t care about you. I only care about your man.”

These subtle shenanigans hurt the most because they were the most vicious and purposefully hurtful, and the worst part was that they had somehow managed to become friends with Atsumu. Emphasis on the word ‘somehow.’

As per usual after school, both you and Atsumu could be found at the gym, and oh boy, did he love being able to see you everyday- not only at school but also at the gym as you were the manager of the volleyball team.

However, this time, you had quite the surprise when you entered the gym. Kita had asked all the players to gather up as he explained them the new change amongst the team : “Considering that the nationals are around the corner, the coach and I stated that it was necessary for us to hire a new manager in order for Y/N not to feel overwhelmed. Please welcome your new manager and take good care of them.”

As his words echoed in the gymnasium, you felt your stomach sink to your heels, your mouth was set agape under the overwhelming feeling of pure disgust. Not them, out of all people. Hell, even Atsumu’s worst fangirl sounded like a better idea right now.

Of course you couldn’t blame Kita for choosing your former best friend as the new manager, but the glance Atsumu threw your way testified of how much he knew this situation was going to eat you up alive.

After the captain dismissed everyone, Atsumu wasted no time and ran up to you, he felt the need to reassure you and make you feel at ease despite the venomous presence of your former best friend.

“Cheer up, baby, ya’ know I’m here, right? This pig isn’t gonna’ get a piece of me. Now, be a doll and gimme’ a kiss.”

Classic Atsumu right here, but who were you to deny such a sweet request? So you did as told, and planted a kiss on his plump lips. And that’s when you could pinpoint the precise moment when your former best friend had fallen right into Atsumu’s trap.

“As your new manager, I have to say that it’s not very professional to kiss your significant other on the court. But, I mean, what else did I expect coming from Y/N?”

Your boyfriend’s arm was protectively wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer. The root of each of his action was to protect you from the incoherent and toxic words dropping from their lips. But deep down, he knew better than to mess with you, especially when the whole team was looking at you.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Did you mean do this?”

There you went again, planting yet another kiss upon Atsumu’s lips who couldn’t help but grin at the taunting nature of your actions. Once you broke the kiss, you could feel the hot breaths of your boyfriend crashing upon your skin “That’s my girl.”

Your former best friend looked around in despair, her eyes scanned the room to seek for help, to back up her actions. Osamu let a small laugh fall free from his lips, Suna rolled his eyes so hard you thought they were going to get stuck at the back of his head, and Kita, out of all people, let out a desperate sigh. “As the captain of the team, I must inform you that it is my duty to let you know that you cannot dictate your way here, and you cannot display a clear lack of respect to Y/N.”

This time, it was their time to be dumbfounded and left in the middle of the gymnasium with their mouth set agape in pure surprise. The silence, although it was broken by a few playful laughs, was agonizing to them.

“C’mon, new manager, tell ‘em why ya’ chose to come here.” Atsumu taunted, the smirk plastered upon his face as wide as ever, but he only found silence as an answer.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell the rest of the team? Alright then. Maybe you should tell them how you only joined our team to flirt with Atsumu knowing very well that we’re dating, what kind of person that makes you, mh?” Each word pronounced was embedded with venom of your own, and deep down, exposing the true nature of your former best friend brought some sense of satisfaction. And thus you began reading out loud each text they had sent you, justifying their one-sided reason to join the team, only to flirt with Atsumu.

“Yeah, ya’ ain’t slick! Sorry to break it to ya’ but I ain’t into snakes.” Atsumu continued, sticking his tongue out before the still dumbfounded personification of a snake.

Pure embarrassment consumed them, the more they were staying amongst the deafening silence of their sour loss, the more they felt vulnerable and the more they realized they lost their own game. The stares of the whole team became agonizing, so agonizing that they felt obligated to leave the gym, head hung low in defeat.

“Byeee! Ya’ won’t be missed!” Your boyfriend concluded his sentence by imitating the hissing sounds of snakes, and you wondered why you were dating a man-child. Nonetheless, knowing very well he couldn’t get his hands off of you and craved for a physical touch at all times, he pressed his lips against yours once more. “I ain’t into snakes but ya’ could s-s-s-s-slide your way into my heart, baby.” and with that, Osamu hit the back of his twin’s head with a volleyball.

Maybe he deserved that.

Being the unofficial dad of the Karasuno volleyball team came with its perks, one of them was the ability to be able to discern if the people you were hanging with genuinely cared about you or not, you liked to joke around and call this his “secret dad weapon.”

Much like Kuroo, he was not one bit surprised when you told him that you had to put your friendship to an end with your former best friend. Of course, he was not angry, but in typical dad fashion, he adorned the oh so famous disappointed dad expression on his facial structure.

He told you not to overthink it, and to focus on the other friendly presences in your life such as the volleyball team or Kiyoko and Yachi, mainly because he knew he could trust them with his eyes closed, but also because he knew he would be able to make them pay if they were to hurt you.

When you started dating Daichi, you grew the habit to join him outside the gymnasium after his training, a bottle of water in your hand in case he overworked himself, which he always did.

This time, and much to your surprise, you found a note near the doorframe leading to the gymnasium. And if you were careful enough, the slight details and the precise calligraphy hinted that said note was in fact a love note.

You found it rather amusing at first, perhaps it was a letter dedicated to Kiyoko because this woman was the living and breathing proof that God was indeed a woman.

But everyday, you would find yet another letter, still carefully written and decorated leaning against the doorframe. This time, however, a calligraphic ‘D.S’ framed the front of the letter. You couldn’t help but let your stare roam over the fine print of calligraphy over and over again.

As the saying goes ‘curiosity killed the cat’, and you were no exception to that common phrase. You meticulously took the letter and unfolded it- it was so beautifully written, the details were placed strategically. It was a proof of pure love in the form of a letter.

Then, you began reading it : “Dear Daichi, Words cannot do justice of how much I love you. Everything about you fascinates me- from the way you spike the ball so roughly to the small smile on your face after scoring a point. If only I could tell you how much you mean to me. Don’t worry, Y/N won’t know a thing. Come to the gymnasium tomorrow at 5 if you wish, until then, accept all my love.”

You read the letter once, then twice, then an umpteenth time until the words were embedded in your brain. You thought it was just a prank, after all, Nishinoya and Tanaka were quite the pranksters amongst the team, but the handwriting was so delicate, too delicate to be theirs.

You could feel salty pearls coming at the brim of your eyes until they fell onto the surface of the paper, resulting in the texture of the letter now being bloated under the wetness of your tears.

You kept your discovery under silence, you trusted your boyfriend of course, but given the additional stress brought by the nationals, you refused to distract him from his goal.

But here you were, sharply there in front of the gym at five as indicated on the letter. However, Daichi hadn’t shown up like the anonymous lover requested, he was already stretching anyway.

Knots started to form in your stomach as you wondered who the hell had the idea to write this love letter to him, after all, it’s not as if your relationship with Daichi was kept as a secret.

And at 5:01 precisely, your orbs felt on the figure of your former best friend who had the most victorious grin plastered upon their face. Not only these letters were meant to be read by Daichi, but by you too, their main goal was to hurt you where it stung the most.

“What the hell are you doing here? Where you the one who wrote these letters?” You spat, waving the letters between your thumb and forefinger.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I know you love to make everything about yourself but I was expecting Daichi, not you.” Although they said they were sorry, there was not one ounce of genuine compassion in their voice.

Anger got the best of you resulting in the sudden apparition of veins on your neck as the volume of your voice only increased : “Who the fuck do you think you are? Are you that desperate? If you want a reply to your letter : Daichi doesn’t even know who you are.”

Your emotions controlled each one of your actions, including the severe tone of your voice. The ruckus made its way inside the walls of the gymnasium, until Daichi and Sugawara opened the door in order to find an answer as their interrogation : what was happening outside?

Daichi’s eyes widened when he saw your frame shaking from anger, it was so unlike you, you matched him in a way because you were always so calm and collected. His mind raced as he wondered what was the cause of this sudden switch of behavior.

He found the answer to his question pretty rapidly as his eyes darted towards your former best friend who was still wearing that victorious grin on their facial structure. “Y/N, love, what’s going on?” he asked as his hands were draped over your shoulders, forcing you to look at him.

“Oh, hey, Daichi! Have you read the letters I left for you? I bet Y/N never wrote this kind of letters for you.” It took inhuman strength for Daichi to ignore their taunt, instead, Sugawara sent a death glare their way : “Just leave, you have no business being here.”

Sugawara’s attempt at making them leave eventually succeeded after Coach Ukai’s sudden appearance before barking on your former best friend to “get the hell out of here” and “not disturb training anymore.”

Eventually, you were left alone with Daichi, your lungs felt constricted and you struggled to breathe. The aftermath of your outburst of anger made tears run down your cheeks as you sought for comfort inside of Daichi’s loving embrace.

The pad of his thumb brushed your tears away, planting a series of kisses upon the surface of your forehead as a silent way to tell you that he was here and he was not going to let you go.

“Listen, love, I don’t know what happened and we will talk about it whenever you feel ready. But promise me one thing, never doubt of my love for you. Could you do that for me, Y/N?”

You simply nodded against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat kept the haunting thoughts in your head at bay. “I love you so much, Y/N, so, so much.” he whispered, concluding his sentence with a kiss left on your lips.

If only he knew how much you loved him.

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #460

“i let it fall - my heart / and as it fell, you rose to claim it”

When you were younger, did your mother or father ever let you open a few presents before Christmas or your birthday even arrived? We have a tradition of opening one of the smaller presents on Christmas Eve. If you could receive a 100 dollar gift card for either blouses, pants, dresses, shoes or purses, which would you chose? PANTS. I need new pants BADLY. What is your favorite thing to do after crying? Ex: Sleep, listen to music, have some alone time, talk to someone, etc? It really depends on why I was crying and how hard. Do you think Trump will be assassinated, or will he survive his term? Old survey. I really thought he'd be assassinated more than any other president, honestly. Last time you felt suicidal? A couple weeks ago, but they were only passive thoughts. Last time you had butterflies? Sometime today, thinking about things. Biggest asshole you know? Some relative of my sister's in-laws' is so fucking rude. Literally no one likes him, but because he's family, he comes to events, anyway. Did you ever leave someone because you know you’d hurt them? No. What song did you last listen to? I'm listening to No Resolve's cover of "Set Fire to the Rain" by Adele. I have seriously been into rock/metal covers lately. Ever ridden in a police car? Yes. That's how they transport you from the ER to psych hospitals here. Ever witnessed a murder? JESUS, no. Have you ever lied under oath? No. Have you ever failed a subject before? I failed Algebra I during my last college attempt. Have you ever had a deadly animal as a pet? Noooo. I wouldn't. I want tarantulas, which are venomous (the potency ranging from what side of the world they come from), but even the worst of their venoms isn't fatal. Have you ever kissed someone of the same gender? Yes. Have you ever been in a hot tub before? Yeah. Have you ever been to a movie that sold out? It's possible, idk. What movie last made you too scared to go to sleep? None, I think? When you’re on a laptop, do you hook up a mouse or use the touchpad? I use a mouse. What’s your mom’s mom’s name? Cecelia. Would it be hard seeing someone else kiss the person you like? BOY THAT WOULD SUCK Have you ever been tempted to steal? No. What is the main character’s name in the book you’re reading? Moonwatcher. Do you have a favorite local band? Who are they? No. Who’s the last person you saw naked, aside from yourself? Mom, walking to her bedroom after a shower. Who’s your favorite horror monster/killer? Pyramid Head from the Silent Hill franchise. What kind of music do you prefer to listen to when driving? When I'm driving, no music. I can't focus. Would you ever own a hairless rat, cat or dog? I'd LOVE a sphinx. I doubt I'm ever getting rats or dogs again, but I do think they're cute. Females, anyway. I'm sorry but hairless male animals are just laksdjfk;lajdwkl;wj for obvious reasons. All the people you’ve kissed, what did their names start with? J, T, D, S. What did you and your ex fight about most? "The" ex, uhhhh... I don't really know. We didn't fight a lot. Don’t you love long hugs? YEAH especially if I'm crying or just in general need comfort. And long kisses? If we're serious and the timing is right, yeah. Have you ever purchased condoms? No. Have you ever gone on vacation with your boyfriend/girlfriend? No previous ones, no. Have you ever trashed your ex’s car after an argument? No. Even I wasn't THAT low. Would you leave a note on a car claiming responsibility if you damaged it? Yes. My guilty conscience would eat me alive otherwise. Have you ever used someone's handicapped parking pass to get a parking spot? No, and you're fucking garbage if you have. Are you embarrassed to tell people your job? I'm humiliated to tell people I don't HAVE a job. If you ran over an animal would you keep driving? omfg NO. I would absolutely pull over sobbing, move the animal to the side of the road, and hopefully there will be some wildflowers nearby to rest on it. I'd call whoever picks up roadkill, too. Where’s the best place to eat a romantic dinner? Take me out to Olive Garden like a basic white bitch & feed me spicy shrimp fritas and u have approximately a 90% chance of getting laid. :eyes emoji: What hobby would you get into if time and money weren’t an issue? Ohhhh I know there's one, but I'm blanking. What would be the most amazing adventure to go on? That is like an impossible question. There are so many possible, epic adventures. When people come to you for help, what do they usually want help with? Writing stuff. Has anybody criticized the way your significant other looked like? Yup, in the past. Like shut the fuck up, are you the one dating them???? Have you written or drawn anything for somebody else? I've done this many, many times. Who has impressed you most with what they’ve accomplished? Idk, there's a lot of people I know like that. What is something you think everyone should do at least once in their lives? Fall in love. Nothing matches that feeling to me. What would you rate 10/10? markerplayer What do you hope never changes? My resilience. I never want to give up when something knocks me down. Would you ever have sex with the last person you texted? UM THAT IS MY MOTHER Is there anyone that you’d love to just spill your guts to? Girt. Like. Now. But I'm waiting until I actually see him again. This needs to be said to his face. Where is the person you have feelings at right now? He's maybe asleep or just waking up? I don't actually know his exact hours and I know they alternate, but I think he primarily works the night shift at his job? Are you happy with your relationship status? I'm not anymore. I want to be with ^ like very badly. When did you last cry? What for? Today. I'm terrified of loving someone again in the fear of getting very hurt or plain traumatized again. Do you think you’re wasting your time on the person you love? No. When’s the next time you’ll kiss someone? I usually hate questions that assume I can see the future, but I can tell you I plan to whenever I see He Who I've Mentioned a Gazillion Times In Today's Survey Spam. Were you ever scared to death of anyone you knew? Or are you currently? My dad, in the past. Not currently. What’s the longest you’ve been away from home by yourself? If you wanna count hospital stays, like... a month? Have you ever been made fun of, because of what you look like? I've been made fun of online once because of my weight. The insult never left me. Have you ever made fun of others, because of what they look like? No. It's awful. Do you think it’s cute when you’re leaving a place, and a guy says “no hug?” What a dick move. Some people don't like hugs. Do you wear short shorts (if you’re a girl)? I didn't know short shorts were specific to females. Anyway, no. I hate my legs WAY too much. Who are you the most uncomfortable around? My sister's in-laws and her husband. Who has your heart? I'm never giving that to another person again. I've got it. But to answer the general question that's being asked, I've fallen like head over heels for Girt. Should cloning ever be allowed to happen? I think it's pretty... I don't know the right word. It just seems immoral to me? Especially when you start cloning things with an actual conscience. I can see a lot of problems arising from it. Are you impatient with really shy people? Well no, given I'm one of 'em. Does your house have air conditioning throughout, or do you have one that sits in your window? Throughout. What is the most ridiculous band name you’ve heard recently? Recently? Idk. Would you ever get a fashion mullet? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO mullets are so ugly alsdkfj;aljdl;jwe Do you believe that Jesus lived and is returning? Isn't it historical, documented fact he was a living person? Even if that is true though, I don't believe in his "miracles." Do you believe in spiritual gifts? No. Do you believe in callings? No. If you were rich, would you get a professional photoshoot done? UM hell yeah. Pls take pictures of me that help me believe I'm even just 0.001% pretty.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''set fire to the rain'' by adele

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peanutsandbitterstep · 4 years ago

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Frost Damage

GBF Fanfiction

Summary: The new addition to the crew is too much of a reminder of the past for Seox’s liking.

Normally, Seox looks forward to returning to the Grandcypher. He leaves for Eternal missions so often and misses so much while he’s away. The last time he’d come back, he’d wanted to hear Djeeta, Lyria, and Vyrn recount their adventures. There were members of the crew whose company he wouldn’t mind.

Now, though, fear is coiling in his gut. Old fears of hurting the people he comes in contact with. Of losing control of his power.

‘Maybe you should be,’ part of his mind whispers. ‘After all, you’re the monster who destroyed your first home.’

‘No. I’m past that. My power is for protecting people,’ he tells it firmly.

“Seox!” He looks up and Lyria is waving to him from the side of the ship. “Welcome back!”

He lifts his hand to greet her and murmurs, “I’m home.”

Once he’s onboard, Vyrn says, “Nice to see you back and in one piece, Masked Wonder. Hope you like eel because we got barrels of ‘em.”

He shrugs. “They’re fine.”

“You won’t believe how big some of them get!”

“It spit poison at us, but luckily, Katalina was there to protect us,” Djeeta says.

As the three of them tell him about the monster eel that attacked beachgoers, his anxieties quiet, as they usually do. He stops by his room and checks on his plants.

One in particular is heavily overgrown and he has to take it out of the pot to prune the roots, before trimming the leaves and replanting it.

Before he knows it, hours have passed and there’s still something he needs to check on. It’s getting dark outside and people are still socializing on the deck of the ship. As he guessed, Djeeta is among them and she immediately comes toward him as soon as she spots him.

“Oh good, I was about to look for you,” she says. “You haven’t eaten, right? There might still be some leftovers. You should get it before someone else does.”

She grabs his arm and he decides this isn’t worth fighting. Especially not since he actually is hungry. The dining hall is half empty, so they’re able to get a table to themselves.

“So when do you think your next mission will be?” she asks, nibbling on some crackers.

“Soon. Maybe in two weeks.”

“That’s not a lot of time,” she says, disappointed. “Still, I’m glad you’re here.”

That doesn’t seem like a good sign. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I’m just happy to see you.” In a playfully aggressive tone, she says, “You’re my friend and I’m happy to see you. Is that crime?”

“That’s not– I was just worried.” Speaking quickly to avoid a change in subject, he says, “How’s Nehan?”

“Still spending a lot of time in his room, but less than before, so that’s something, at least,” she says. “Is that why you were worried? Because you’re worried for him? Or about him doing something?”

His feelings are too tangled to give a proper answer. Even if he were to worry about Nehan, it isn’t as though he’d be able to help in any way.

As for the other thing, he feels almost paranoid thinking about it. Unlike him, Nehan is a full-time member of the Grandcypher by necessity. Harming the crew would be to sacrifice the only protection he has from any vindictive mafia members. But still, Nehan has the capacity to do a lot of harm and the help he’s given Stardust Town, the Enforcers, and the Eternals isn’t enough to quell that fear.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk to him the last time you were here, but what about now?” Djeeta asks.

“There’s nothing I could say to him. I can’t make up for my past actions.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “But do you want to talk to him?”

“If talking to him would help him in some way. But even my presence is painful to him.”

The last time Nehan had really spoken or even looked at him was their battle at the Karm hamlet. And sometimes, it seemed like he couldn’t bear even being in the same room.

Djeeta looks worried and Seox says, “I don’t know if this is something that can be changed. I don’t want to force an interaction that will only bring harm.”

Still doubtful, she says, “Okay. If you say so.”

Seox doesn’t see Nehan at all during the week and a half that he spends on the Grandcypher. Then he has to leave for another Eternal mission. The mafia wars are keeping all of them busy, especially Feower and Tien, and the rest of the world still have issues that need to be taken care of.

It’s another few months until he returns to the Grandcypher.

The first surprise is seeing Nehan outside and talking to someone. The second is his expression.

Nehan had woken up exhausted and purposeless. Sometimes, Mugen would be able to elicit some kind of energy, but it was always short-lived.

Now, though, there’s light in his eyes and not from fury or Trancensia. Seox doesn’t know what changed or what Lyria could be saying that would spark such an interest, but Nehan actually looks alive for once.

Then he catches sight of Seox and it dies, just like that. His body takes on a forced stillness that could be mistaken for relaxedness if someone wasn’t looking hard enough. He lifts his hand–

“Seox, you’re back!” Phoebe runs up to Seox and he tears his eyes off Nehan. “Um, we’re redecorating Raduga and we’d like to get your opinion too.”

Grateful for the distraction, he follows her to the subgalley and spends more time than he thinks is necessary on the color of the placement mats. But he needs the reminder that he can do more than destroy.

He has to leave the crew sooner than expected.

“Did Nehan come talk to you?” Lyria asks.

“No.”

“Oh… he said he would.”

“Maybe he chickened out?” Vyrn says.

“Is it something important?” Seox asks.

“He can say it next time you come back,” Djeeta says, which isn’t what he asked.

He’s in a hurry, though, so he can’t press for more details. But he ruminates on what Nehan could possibly want to say to him every chance he can.

Maybe something about his past that he doesn’t know about? There’s plenty of that. Maybe it’s something that would require him to leave the crew. That’s probably ridiculous, but he can’t get the thoughts out of his mind.

He doesn’t allow that to distract him from the mission, though. He’s an Eternal which means he’s one of the strongest in the Sky Realm and personal matters cannot get in the way.

So that isn’t the reason he gets poisoned. His opponents were able to get reinforcements faster than he anticipated, which was nothing he couldn’t handle, but it did mean one of them was able to land a hit with a blade coated in snake venom.

Seox has a resistance to it, which means he does not die, much to the chagrin of his enemies. But it does slow him down and that’s more a blow to his pride than anything else.

He returns to the Grandcypher and is immediately challenged to a sparring match by Ayer. He’s improving steadily, a little faster and a little stronger than the last time they’d sparred.

“Are you holding back?” Ayer asks during a lull. “You’re slower than before.”

“That’s not what you should be concerned about,” Seox says and goes on the offensive.

Ayer is talented, but he’s not the best. Not yet. He takes his loss with relative grace and Seox makes his escape before anyone can ask prying questions.

Surprisingly, the one who stops him is Shao. “So would you say that your last mission was a difficult one?”

“No more than usual,” he says shortly. “Why?”

“Any serious injuries? Or is it just fatigue?”

“Get to the point.”

Shao chuckles. “So impatient. If you need my assistance, you should let me know. The captain and the others should be getting back from their mission soon.”

He isn’t sure how he should take that. Shao’s expression remains as enigmatic as always. “Is that a threat?”

“Not at all. I’m merely pointing out that if it really is a serious injury, you’ll be seeing me one way or another. I just thought I’d save all of us some time.”

Seox tries to imagine how this conversation will go, what would happen if he were to just walk away, what Djeeta, Lyria, and Vyrn would say.

He should be fine, but the poison is affecting him for longer than he expected. It would definitely be more embarrassing to have to come back to Shao later and admit something was wrong.

“It’s just snake venom. It’s not fatal.”

“Hmm.” Shao tilts his head and then leads Seox to his room. As he opens his giant wooden chest, he asks follow up questions about the venom and its effects.

After Seox begrudgingly agrees to an examination, Shao hands him a bottle of medicine with instructions on when and how much to take.

“Like you said, it doesn’t seem to be fatal. But if you feel worse, let me know immediately.”

“How much?”

“Nothing. I’m doing this as a favor.”

“I don’t want a favor. Tell me your price and I’ll pay it.”

“Oh, it’s not a favor for you,” Shao says and shoos Seox out of his room.

Seox does feel a marked improvement the next day, but he has no clue who the favor would be for or why they would use it for him. Many of the crew members are too straightforward to not give some indication that they’re the culprit, but none of them are.

He’s called away on a mission sooner than expected. He bids a quick goodbye to Djeeta and hurries toward the dock, planning what the quickest route would be.

“You’re leaving quickly.”

Seox stops short on the ramp and turns. Nehan is leaning on the railing, looking down at him. He looks tired, but his eyes aren’t dead pools of nothing at the very least.

“I have a mission.”

“Right.” With no transition, he asks, “How far did you get in building your poison immunity?”

‘Before you snapped and murdered everyone,’ Nehan means, but does not say.

Seox hadn’t really been in a position to keep up the regimen after being locked away and then he’d had other things to worry about after that.

“Enough to not die. But you’d have more knowledge about it than me.”

Nehan glances to the side. “I guess that’s true. Good luck on your mission.” He disappears back to the ship and Seox leaves.

Was that the only thing Nehan had wanted to say to him? Surely not, he had to have just heard from Shao. Then…?

The mission is rough. All Eternals need to get their hands dirty from time to time, but some hit closer to home than others. He just wants to return home and not think about inheritances and dashed dreams.

As soon as he climbs aboard the Grandcypher, he hears,

“Seox!”

“Masked Wonder!”

And both Lyria and Vyrn lunge for his mask.

Seox throws himself to the side and manages to dodge. “Wait! Hold on!”

Lyria does not, joyfully shouting, “You’re back!”

“It’s good to see you!” Vyrn says, and it is absolutely unfair that he can use his wings to attack from above. “Now, Djeeta!”

Seox whirls around, but she’s already right there and she snatches the mask off his face.

“Welcome back,” she says, grinning.

He’s about to respond, when he looks over her head and finds Nehan across the ship, staring at him as though he’s seeing a ghost.

“What?” he snaps, taking his mask back and pressing it over his face which is rapidly turning red.

Nehan shakes himself and waves Seox off before going inside.

“Do you want to talk to him?” Djeeta asks.

“I…” Seox thinks about all his questions.

‘What were you going to talk to me about months ago? Why were you asking about poison? What did that look mean?’

And he thinks about the weight of sins and whether he has the right to make a move.

“If you want to talk to him, I think you should,” Lyria says.

“Yeah, nothing’s going to change if you don’t talk to each other,” Vyrn adds.

Djeeta gives him a thumbs up.

Fifteen minutes later, Seox is knocking on the door to Nehan’s room. “Can we talk?”

He expects Nehan to refuse, but he lets Seox in. He hadn’t expected to get that far and stands there for a good few seconds, trying to think of how to start the conversation.

Nehan lightly coughs and asks, “How was your last mission?”

“Fine.”

“…How long until your next mission?”

“Next week.” To keep the conversation from turning to more small talk, he picks a question and asks, “What did you want to talk about, a few months ago?”

Nehan’s expression becomes more mask-like and he responds, “Was it the captain and the others who told you?”

“Yes.”

“It can wait until another time.”

Impatiently, Seox says, “Just say it.”

Slowly, as though he’s measuring out the weight of each word, Nehan says, “The captain thinks I should let you know that I don’t hate you.”

Seox stares at him, not sure how to even begin processing that. “Why?”

“I think she thinks it will reassure you somehow.” With a wry smile, Nehan says, “Do you feel reassured?“

“Why would I be reassured by something that I know is untrue?” he asks harshly.

Expression turning inscrutable again, Nehan says, “You don’t need to believe me. If you want, we can pretend this conversation didn’t happen. But I wasn’t lying.”

“I saw your reaction when you saw my face. Obviously, I just remind you of the day I destroyed our clan and took everything from you.”

“That wasn’t what it meant.”

“Then what was it?” Seox demands.

Steadily, Nehan looks at him and says, “You look a lot like your father. That’s all it was.”

You killed everyone you’re going to lead our clan to a new era too dangerous to be around you’re the future of the Karm clan you monster

“Seox? Seox, wait,” he dimly hears Nehan saying, but then he’s already moving.

Back then, he’d had no limits, just the chaining of one movement the next until everything that moved was red and broken at his feet.

“Seox?” Djeeta’s voice says from nearby.

He blindly throws his arms out to push her away. “S-stay back! I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” she says with such confidence that he wants to bury himself before he can shatter it.

“I’ve done it before.”

“And I’m still alive. I’m coming closer.”

She takes his hand and he freezes.

“If you go berserk, I’ll stop you. And I don’t think that’s happening right now, but either way, I’m going to be here.”

Slowly, the world comes back. He’s crouched in his room in the Grandcypher. Djeeta is kneeling in front of him. The wood above creaks as another crew member walks down the hallway and the wind howls outside.

“How are you feeling?” Djeeta asks.

Embarrassed. Tired. “I’m okay,” he says.

“I’m going to get you water. Do you need anything else?”

“No.”

Lyria and Vyrn are waiting outside and they start a whispered conversation with Djeeta as they run toward the galley.

Seox takes a deep breath and straightens up, trying to shake off the pins and needles in his legs. He takes off his mask and wipes his face. Djeeta and the others will be back soon. He doesn’t know what he should say or do now.

Djeeta and the others come back with a glass of water and some snacks.

“You like some of these, right?” Lyria asks anxiously.

“I’m fine with anything,” he says. “Is Nehan…?”

“He’s okay,” Vyrn says.

“I’ll check in on him again later,” Djeeta says. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Seox says.

The three of them exchange looks.

“If you don’t want to talk to us, that’s fine,” Lyria says. “But we’re here for you if you need anything.”

“I’m sorry,” is all he can think to say.

“Why? It’s not your fault,” Vyrn says.

“I should be past letting my memories affect me like that. I’m sorry for burdening all of you.”

“It’s not a burden!” Lyria insists. “You’re our friend!”

How could he not be, though? He feels like he’s retreading the same ground. Like he’d cut off the diseased limb of a tree, only to find out that the whole thing is infected and needs to be uprooted.

“Exactly,” Djeeta says. “You are. Not the imaginary Seox who has all his problems sorted out and never needs help from anyone.”

That gives him pause. He thinks about Djeeta and he thinks about her father. About unthinking kindness and unwavering dedication. “I… I don’t deserve your friendship.”

“Good thing it’s not about whether you deserve it or not,” Djeeta says.

No one says anything for a moment.

Seox gets a small fraction of his thoughts in order. “Nehan said he doesn’t hate me.”

“That’s good, right?” Vyrn says.

“You think he’s telling the truth?”

“I don’t think he’d ask Shao to give you medicine if he hated you,” Lyria says.

“That was him?”

She hesitates. “Maybe he didn’t want you to know. But he really does seem to care about you!”

“We overheard him asking about you,” Vyrn says. “He–“

“Vyrn,” Djeeta warns and shakes her head. She turns back to Seox. “There’s a mission tomorrow to replant a garden. I’m going to ask Nehan if he wants to come. Do you want in? It would just be the two of you.”

Seox considers the possibility that Nehan really doesn’t hate him and the opportunity presenting itself. “I’ll go.”

The next morning, they meet on location. The garden is meant for the whole community, but monster attacks had left it in disrepair.

Nehan, dressed in casual work clothes, surveys the damage and says, “I’ll start from the back and work my way forward.”

“I’ll start from the front then.”

For a while, neither of them say anything beyond what’s necessary for their work.

“This is unsalvageable. I’m tearing all of it up.”

“I need more fertilizer for this area. I’ll be right back.”

Nehan is the one who finally brings up a different topic, saying, “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

Seox yanks a weed out of the ground because that’s easier to focus on. “I’m the one who asked.”

“I should have lied.”

It’s the casualness with which he says it that makes Seox look up. “That’s your solution?”

“I don’t think either of us can handle complete honesty at the moment.”

He might have a point, but still. “That doesn’t mean I want you to lie because you think I can’t handle it.”

“Then what do you want? Because I don’t want to keep having interactions that lead to us getting hurt.”

Seox isn’t sure what to say to that, so he doesn’t answer. They work silently for another while.

“Are these dead?” Seox asks about another patch of plants.

Nehan studies the brown, wilted leaves and tsks. “Frost damage. They should have been planted weeks later than they were.”

“Can they be saved?”

“I think so. But it might not be worth the effort.”

“Hm.” Seox waters it and leaves it alone for the village to decide.

He asks his next question because it feels relatively safe and there might still be unfinished business he has to take care of.

“You owe Shao a favor?”

“Right now, he owes me one,” Nehan says. “I’ll have him help me look for some herb on a mountain or something. We’ll see.”

They’re already having a conversation, so he moves on to the next question. “Were you asking for information about me?”

Nehan pauses, thinking, and Seox wonders if this will be a lie. “I don’t actually know anything about you. The others have insight I don’t.”

“Oh.” Seox supposes he knows even less about Nehan. It’s… not something he’d really considered.

“They speak very highly of you.”

“…Oh.” He’s glad that his mask hides the fact that he’s blushing.

They finish at the end of the day and begin to head back to the Grandcypher. This is his last chance, so Seox calls on his courage and asks, “When you said you don’t hate me, was that a lie?”

“No.”

Seox stops. “How? Surely you haven’t forgiven me for what I did.”

“Do I need to?” Nehan asks, turning.

That feels contradictory to Seox, but clearly it doesn’t to Nehan.

“It’ll still be a while before I can completely forgive you. But I don’t want to kill you and I don’t want to keep avoiding you.” Nehan’s expression changes to something more conflicted and he breaks eye contact. “But it’s not as though I’m in any position to pass judgment on you. So don’t… don’t take that to heart, I guess.”

Despite himself and despite what Nehan says, he does want that forgiveness. He hasn’t done enough to be worthy of it, though. “There’s more we should talk about.” Seox glances to the side and forces himself to get the next words out. “But I think you’re right. I wouldn’t be able to handle it right now. But I also don’t want you to lie.”

Nehan shrugs. “Then we won’t talk about it now.”

“And that’s it?”

“I’m not going anywhere. So even if you leave the crew, you’ll know how to find me.”

Seox thinks about where he wants things to be and considers the reality of where they are, and he exhales. “Okay.”

Djeeta, Vyrn, and Lyria see him off when he leaves for his next mission.

“Come back safely, okay?” Lyria says.

“We’ll get you a souvenir if we go somewhere interesting,” Djeeta says.

“It’ll be big and ugly so you can display it in your room,” Vyrn says, laughing.

“You don’t– You don’t have to,” Seox says.

“We’re going to,” Djeeta says. “Have a good mission.”

Seox sees movement at the corner of his vision and looks to find Nehan watching him. Nehan waves and Seox reciprocates it before turning back to Djeeta and the others.

“You all be safe too. See you.”

He does this more often than he likes, but, this time, as he walks down the boarding ramp, his fears’ whispers are quieter and he’s hopeful about what could happen when he returns.

A/N: Happy new year, everyone. i wanted to get this out yesterday but I didn’t. Let me know if you like it because i’m tired and can’t tell if it’s good. Here’s to playable Nehan

#rambling #gbf #granblue fantasy #Seox #Nehan #seox gbf #nehan gbf

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shinsoukokuvalentine · 5 years ago

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Heavenbound (3)

(3 is here! For those curious, yes I will be including the alligator scene in this fic. Just... Likely not in the way you think. I can’t wait ^^

Read the first chapter on Ao3!)

237/365: Soon You’ll Come Home

“How exactly do your powers work?” Ryuu asks. He sits across his tea table from Atsushi, who wolfs down the food that Chuuya made for him as if he hasn’t eaten in days.

Knowing Fitzgerald, that might be accurate.

“Mostly moonlight,” Atsushi says, his mouth full of rice, “but I have a little control over it too.”

Chuuya passes Ryuu his own bowl, sitting beside him, lazily eating.

“Didn’t look like it back there,” he says. Ryuu shoots him a small glare, but Atsushi nods solemnly.

“Moonlight transforms me without my choice. But even when it is my choice, the more I transform, the more chance there is of the tiger completely taking over,’’ he murmurs.

Ryuu hasn’t touched his food. He only sits, watching Atsushi.

“You talk like you’re two separate people,” Chuuya says. “Well, relatively speaking.”

Atsushi picks his head up, giving a gentle but sad smile. “It seems like that sometimes,” he says.

Ryuu sighs, standing from the table. He’s heard enough for one night. “Well, whenever you’re done,” he says, “you can sleep on the couch. I’ve set a spare set of pajamas there for you.”

Atsushi whips around to him, eyes wide and practically sparkling. “Really?” He asks, and Ryuu nods, turning his back to enter the hallway. “I hate to inconvenience you…” Atsushi murmurs, causing Ryuu to shrug.

“You’re not,” he says plainly, but behind him, he hears Atsushi sigh a little.

“I’ve never met anyone as kind as you.”

Ryuu pauses in the hall’s entrance. Him? Kind? With all the bullets he’s fired, all the blood on his hands, all the bodies he’s left in his wake?

He says nothing. He closes the bathroom door behind him, turning the shower on, letting steam fill the room like a cloud.

Leaning over the counter, he looks at himself in the mirror. He looks no different than before; same gray eyes, same black hair, same gaunt face. He doesn’t feel as if he’s died in the past twenty-four hours. It could have all been a drunken dream.

But the gold watch hits against his chest as he straightens his back, the ticks of its second hand matching the exact pace of Ryuu’s heartbeat. It wasn’t a dream.

And the only thing keeping him alive hangs around his neck like an albatross.

Gingerly, as if he were handling an egg, Ryuu takes the watch off and sets at aside before stepping into the shower. The water practically burns his skin as it hits him and runs down his body, but it feels cleansing. It washes away Fitzgerald’s Ryuu, the one who blindly trusted, blindly followed orders.

And a new Ryuu is left behind, one that will carve his way straight through everything Fitzgerald holds dear.

Ryuu closes his eyes. The water burns, but he feels it. The dead don’t feel. He’s alive.

But another image cuts into his thoughts, one not unlike the vision he saw when he first met Atsushi. In this picture, the weretiger smiles again, despite the blood splashed across his face. He stands over a familiar, blond corpse before he moves to Ryuu’s side, taking his hands, moving to meet his lips.

Ryuu feels his heart pounding as he breaks from his fantasy. He sighs a little, leaning his head back, letting the hot water splash onto his face. Atsushi is purely for business, he scolds himself. He’s a weapon to be used to solve Ryuu’s Fitzgerald problem.

“But what if he could solve all my problems?” Ryuu finds himself asking out loud, eyes open to the ceiling, water beating hard against his steadily calming chest. Unanswered, his words hang in the bathroom with the rest of the steam.

Silk pajamas on, watch chain around his neck, Ryuu yawns as he steps out of the bathroom. Casting a glance towards the living room, he sees Atsushi sprawled out on the couch.

“He’s fast asleep,” Chuuya mutters as he leans against the opposite wall. Ryuu nods, watching as Atsushi’s chest rises and falls with breath, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“I don’t get what you’re doing,” says Chuuya, eyeing Ryuu from under the rim of his hat. “I thought we were going to kill it.”

Ryuu hums a little as he closes the bedroom door. Plans change. Desires change. But Chuuya would never understand, could never hope to understand the aching, empty hole in Ryuu’s chest, the one perfectly sized for Atsushi.

“What better revenge is there,” he says, picking his words carefully, turning to watch Chuuya with eyes like steel, “than using Fitzgerald’s own monster against him?”

Chuuya’s eyes widen. “You don’t mean-!”

“The weretiger is our weapon now,” Ryuu says as he walks to his own room. “And tomorrow, we use him to start assembling a criminal ring rivaling Fitzgerald’s.”

Chuuya stares at him for a moment. Then, slowly, his grin returns, as if the possibilities that Ryuu saw in the warehouse were suddenly revealed to him; a vision carved with bullet holes and tiger claw marks. He pushes himself off the wall, slipping on his shoes as he nears the door.

“I don’t see why we can’t do one better,” he says. He waits in the doorway, watching Ryuu with sparks flickering in his eyes. “We could be-!”

“A mafia,” Ryuu finishes. He allows himself a small smirk of his own, and he fixes his gaze on some far-off, intangible point.

“And it starts with my monster.”

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Fitzgerald smiles politely, as if they had a choice in the matter. “You see, there’s a small problem I’d like us all to focus our energy on addressing.”

John frowns. He knows each and every one of Fitzgerald’s glossy smiles, and this one never means anything good. This one nearly assures that someone in the room is in danger of death.

That smile remains on Fitzgerald’s lips as he presses a button on his desk, which pulls down a screen from the ceiling.

“But first, a short video clip,” Fitzgerald says. “Very short.”

The room’s tension nearly turns tangible as everyone Fitzgerald called to his office sees the image on the screen. The outside of his warehouse is instantly recognizable, and if something happened to anything in that building, they might as well all have guns pointed at their heads.

“As you can tell from the sunlight, this was taken during the day,” Fitzgerald explains. “Earlier today, in fact. Even more interesting,” he says, pointing at the steadily ticking timestamp in the screen’s corner, “it was filmed before we returned the tiger to his spot there. Now, pay attention; this part is important.”

The room collectively holds its breath as the screen’s image remains still. And nearly simultaneously, the group jumps as the warehouse footage turns to static.

Wordlessly, Fitzgerald pulls something from beneath his desk. John stares at it as his heartbeat accelerates in dawning realization and fear.

The bullet is still embedded in the camera, which now sits on Fitzgerald’s desk, lopsided.

“From this footage, and from visiting the warehouse not an hour ago, I’ve come to a few conclusions,” Fitzgerald says. His smile has gone. “First, someone shot my camera. Whoever did it was in the warehouse with us when we deposited the tiger there.” His voice drops dangerously low, and he watches the group from under a furrowed brow. “And no one noticed.”

Nervous eyes in the group dart to each other, knowing that whoever is responsible likely won’t see the sunrise in the morning.

“I know this much because they took something of mine,” Fitzgerald goes on to say. “According to that timestamp, the camera was shot right before we arrived. The thieves would’ve been in the warehouse when we got there, having taken nothing, for their quarry had yet to arrive.”

Behind his back, John’s sweaty hands grasp each other. The pure anger in Fitzgerald’s eyes is something he’s only seen a handful of times before, and the implications of his words seep into his skin like venom.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Fitzgerald spits, an edge to his voice that slices through everyone in the room, “I want my tiger back.

“And I want it back now.”

Atsushi crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at Ryuu.

“I’m not going in.”

Ryuu rolls his eyes. “You came all the way here,” he snaps, “only to refuse to work with us?”

Atsushi scowls, turning his face away, eyes narrow. Ryuu’s fists shake at his sides. Chuuya twirls his lockpick on his finger, rolling his eyes as they wait beside a seemingly inconspicuous inn in an underdeveloped part of town.

“You don’t have to do anything hard,” Ryuu practically growls, struggling to keep his tone even through his gritted teeth, pointing at the inn’s back door. “Just go in there, show them who you are, and stick around while Nakahara-san and I do the talking.”

Atsushi scoffs, and he takes a small moment of his time to cast his indignant gaze back on Ryuu.

“You sound just like Fitzgerald,” he spits before turning away again. From behind him, Chuuya frowns and reaches for his gun.

“Listen here, you little-!” He starts, but Ryuu shoots a silencing glare his way. They won’t get anywhere with threats - and he won’t have anyone even suggest laying a hand on Atsushi. If the weretiger’s going to work with them, to work with Ryuu, he’s going to have to trust them.

“Listen, Jinko,” Ryuu mutters. “Do you want to kill Fitzgerald?” He asks as calmly as he can, and Atsushi looks back at him again, saying nothing. Ryuu takes his minimal response as a silent yes. “Then we have to start here.”

Though he doesn’t look away again, Atsushi still huffs. “He’ll be powerless without me anyway,” he mumbles. “There’s no point.”

Frustration boils in the pit of Ryuu’s stomach, and he does his best to keep it from rising to his face. Atsushi is nothing but a puzzle he needs to solve. Threatening him won’t work; not if he wants to keep him. In that case, the solution would obviously be bribery, but the weretiger wouldn’t willingly use his powers in this way, even if he was paid to do so. Maybe he could be bribed with something else.

For a moment, Ryuu tries to put himself in Atsushi’s place, trying to discover what he might want, and he doesn’t have to search long to find something familiar.

Some of the harshness falls from Ryuu’s face. Before him stands Fitzgerald’s new toy, a man suddenly thrust into a world he was unprepared for, a man given promises of something better.

Before Ryuu stands himself, ten years ago.

His mind falls backwards, back to the day he first held his own in a gunfight. The bullet wounds hurt, and he screamed as if the sun itself burnt his skin, but two bodies had fallen still at his feet. The other gang members had ran like the cowards they were.

“Well done.”

Ryuu whipped around, still holding his gun out, shaking. At the end of the alley, a blond man clapped and smiled.

“Where’d you get that gun?” He asked. Ryuu gritted his teeth as he glared at him.

“It was my dad’s,” he grunted.

The man tilted his head. “Is your father around?” He wondered. Ryuu shook his head; he had taken the gun from his father’s bleeding corpse. Still, the man smiled. “Do you have a mother, then?” Ryuu shook his head again. “A place to stay?” No.

“Then I’d like to make you an offer,” he said, stepping forward. He crouched in front of Ryuu, right in front of his gun, holding out his hand. “If you come with me, and use your gun for me,” he smiled, “I’ll give you a place to stay.”

Ryuu brings himself back to the present. Not a second of time has passed, and Atsushi, the man so much like Ryuu from ten years ago, still glares at him. Ryuu takes a deep breath.

“Atsushi,” he says calmly, slowly, “if you do this for us, I promise-”

Atsushi’s glare falters. His eyes widen slightly; Ryuu has his attention.

“-We’ll find you a place to stay.”

Atsushi turns his head completely to Ryuu, then his whole body. His scowl falls, but he doesn’t smile yet, as if he’s afraid to be optimistic.

“... My own home?” He asks.

Ryuu nods, folding his hands behind his back as Atsushi’s own arms unwind. “With your own bed. You won’t be sleeping on my couch for long.” As best as he can, he offers what’s supposed to be a kind smile, but Chuuya visibly winces. Atsushi doesn’t seem to notice. His shoulders relax, and his own smile gently forms on his lips.

“You won’t regret this,” he promises, pushing past Ryuu. Now behind him, Ryuu’s lip twitches.

“I certainly hope not,” he mutters to himself. Even so, he finds himself watching Atsushi closely for a small while, perhaps hoping that he can see that innocent smile again.

As soon as Chuuya’s picked the lock, the door swings open, and the first guard glares them down.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He snaps. His short red hair sticks out in all directions, and a bandage is spread over the bridge of his nose. He glares daggers at the trio, reaching for what must be a gun, but Ryuu holds up one hand.

“We’re simply here to talk,” he says. “We have a business proposition.”

The man narrows his eyes. “Leave your weapons,” he growls.

Coughing slightly into his hand, Ryuu nods, giving over his gun with his other hand, and Chuuya does the same. They don’t need them anyway. Not with Atsushi.

The guard shoves them in front of him, begrudgingly walking with them down the staircase behind the door, taking them to another door at its base. Atsushi stays close to Ryuu, eyes instinctively darting around, searching for possible escape routes. The anxiety on his face deepens when he finds none, but Ryuu sighs.

“There’s no need to be worried,” Ryuu murmurs into his ear. He catches the guard watching them, but he doesn’t care. He’s allowed his secrets for now. “Remember what you can do.”

Atsushi looks up at him again, and every small glimmer of light on that dark staircase seems to reflect in his eyes. He takes a deep breath, then offers a meager smile, and Ryuu turns away before he allows that smile to distract him.

Unlike the wooden one at the stair’s top, the bottom door is solid metal.

“Hirotsu-san!” The readhead calls. “You have visitors!”

The door clicks. Again, the first face they see watches them with hostile, suspicious eyes. This one, their black hair pulled back, hides the lower part of their face behind a mask.

“I took their weapons, Gin,” mutters the redhead, holding up their two guns. Gin nods, opening the door wider, revealing the room to them.

Weapon racks line the walls, filled with everything from machine guns to katanas. Dozens of pairs of eyes whip around to stare at them, all except the eyes of the man at the room’s end, who watches them warily, yet calmly.

“And why have they come to visit me?” The older man says, sitting atop the crude throne of an overturned shipping crate. Ryuu steps forward.

“I’d like to propose a merger,” he says upfront. The older man smirks.

“I don’t merge with unknown delinquents,” he says. “I can offer you a position in the Black Lizards, but everyone starts at the bottom.”

Ryuu allows his expression to harden slightly. “You don’t recognize me, Hirotsu-san?” He asks, “Even after your men fell like flies at my feet the last time you challenged us?”

There’s a moment’s pause as Hirotsu narrows his eyes, watching Ryuu with scrutiny. Then he stiffens, eyes widening for just a second before they turn harsher than before.

“Akutagawa,” he spits. He snaps his fingers and instantly, it’s as if every gun in the room clicks. “What does Fitzgerald want with me this time?”

Every barrel points at Ryuu, Chuuya, and Atsushi, but Ryuu doesn’t take his eyes - now nonchalant again - off of Hirotsu, even when he feels Atsushi step close enough to him that their wrists brush.

“He wants nothing to do with you,” Ryuu says. “I do.”

Hirotsu scoffs. “And that is?”

“Just as I said,” Ryuu states again, eerily calm, “a merger. The Black Lizards will join Chuuya and I as we build a strong enough mafia to destroy everything Fitzgerald has.”

In spite of the room’s tense atmosphere, Hirotsu gives a small huff of a laugh.

“A mafia?” He repeats. “Even if you did manage to build one, no one can face off against Fitzgerald’s ring and live. Besides, when did you become intent on destroying Fitzgerald instead of kissing his boots? Jealous, young man?”

Ryuu’s lip twitches. Keeping his voice as steady as he can, he answers at nearly a growl, “Fitzgerald grew jealous of me and attempted to have me killed.” The watch chain weighs his neck down, and if he pays close attention, he can feel every tick of its second hand against his chest, a constant reminder of how successful Fitzgerald’s attempt had been. He has half a mind to run, the fear of dying again turning his blood cold.

But the thought of revenge brings that blood back to its boiling point, and he’s reminded where he stands, in front of one of Yokohama’s most dangerous gang leaders, and there’s no turning back now. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke is not a coward.

“Was that when he replaced you?” Hirotsu asks haughtily, causing a small scowl to form on Ryuu’s lips. “Word spread quickly about his new pet.”

From behind Ryuu, Atsushi gives a short, disgruntled growl.

“Maybe,” Ryuu grunts, “but he no longer has that weapon.”

Hirotsu raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And how can you be sure?”

Ryuu looks behind him at Atsushi, watching as the irritation fades from the tiger’s eyes, only to be replaced by a small hint of fear. It doesn’t make it to the rest of his face, but Ryuu sees it. Wordlessy, he nods, hoping Atsushi understands.

You can do this, he thinks, frowning. You HAVE to do this.

As if he heard him, Atsushi closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath before gritting his teeth, and suddenly, his arms begin to glow blue.

Members of the Black Lizard gasp. That annoying redhead jumps. Atsushi squeezes his eyes shut in pain as his arms shift, growing inhuman muscles, fur, and claws at the end of his fingers.

“I’m sure,” Ryuu finally answers Hirotsu, who stares at Atsushi with his mouth slightly open, “because I have that weapon.”

Atsushi gasps, struggling to keep his transformation minimal, but Ryuu pats his shoulder.

“That will be all,” he says quietly. With a small sigh, Atsushi shrinks his arms back to their original size.

“Think of it this way, Hirotsu-san,” Ryuu says, folding his hands behind his back once more. “If I have Fitzgerald’s tiger, imagine what I can do to Fitzgerald. And if I have Fitzgerald’s tiger,” he lets that thought hang in the air for a moment, icicles forming in his eyes and in his next words.

“Imagine what I can do to you.”

Silence freezes the room. The only sounds are cautious whispers and Atsushi’s tired pants.

Finally, Hirotsu clears his throat.

“If we join your Mafia,” he begins, voice cautious, “we’ll be… Financially compensated, correct?”

Ryuu nods. “As soon as you get the money to come in, you’ll get your share,” he assures them.

Hirotsu frowns. He looks at the floor, then at his gang. No one says a word.

Finally, and with a sigh, Hirotsu stands. He takes a few steps forward, until he’s directly in front of Ryuu, before he bows.

“To destroy Fitzgerald, and to take back Yokohama,” he says, folding a hand over his chest, “the Black Lizard is in your service.” He frowns as he stands, watching Ryuu with narrow eyes. “You’d best make good on your promises, boy.”

Ryuu looks behind him, watching Atsushi fearlessly face every member of the Black Lizard that dares approach him, only to have them scuttle back.

“As long as I have that beast,” he says, “you have nothing to worry about.”

Pain feels as if it’s erupting through Ryuu’s entire body.

You can never come back.

Hands so cold they burn his skin grasp at him, clinging to him, dragging him down into scorching hot mire.

You can never come back.

Darkness surrounds him; thick, gooey darkness that can be felt, only interrupted by the frequent columns of flames bursting from the charred ground. Screams and horrid laughter fill his ears.

You can never come back.

Every time the words repeat, they come across more distorted than before. Soon it sounds as if Kouyou’s voice itself is melting, burning along with Ryuu and everything around him, drowning out his cries of pain.

He struggles to keep his head above the surface of the boiling, oozy dark, but soon it flows into his mouth. It fills his lungs, his head, his entire body, until he can’t struggle anymore. All he can do is scream.

You can never come back.

Gasping for air, Ryuu jolts awake. He sits straight up in bed for a moment, shaking, before he throws off every sweaty blanket and grabs for his watch on the bedside table.

He pops it open. It still ticks, its time always accurate, even though Ryuu has never set it. He sighs a bit, holding it tight against his chest so he can feel every movement of its second hand. He still lives.

Tucking the watch beneath his shirt, Ryuu slides out of bed. The electric clock on his bedside table says it’s one a.m., but Ryuu’s fresh nightmare keeps him from wanting to go back to sleep immediately. Instead, he rubs his eyes and yawns a bit as he flips on a lamp and makes his way to his bedroom door.

As soon as he opens it, he hears something scuffle in the living room. Pieces of his dream flash in front of eyes eyes, of horrible creatures writing in the dark, and sudden panic grabs his body, causing him to stiffen. Immediately - too uncharacteristically terrified to rationally consider what might actually wait for him in the dark - he flips on the light next to the door.

Atsushi freezes. He stands like a rabbit caught in headlights, blinking with wide eyes at Ryuu, fully dressed and holding a bundle of Ryuu’s clothes in his arms as he stands between the living room and the door. Ryuu instantly scowls.

“What are you doing?”

Atsushi’s eyes dart away from Ryuu’s. “Uh…” he says slowly, shuffling a bit on his feet. Ryuu can feel his rising anger cause his features to tighten.

“You’re running out on me,” he growls. Though he keeps anger on his face, fear runs through his veins. To lose the weretiger would be to lose everything.

Atsushi frowns, bunching his shoulders up, watching the floor. Though he could easily still run, his shame spreads to his face and ties his feet together.

“... I can’t stay here,” Atsushi mumbles, and something within Ryuu reluctantly crumples when he sees how hurt Atsushi looks.

“And why not?” he says, keeping under wraps whatever weakness Atsushi’s instilled in him.

“... I don’t want to be used as a weapon,” Atsushi admits softly. He wraps his arms around himself, still not meeting Ryuu’s eyes, his own golden irises seemingly glowing in the dark room. Ryuu sighs.

“You won’t have to for much longer,” he assures him. “Word will get out, and by the time this whole city knows and fears you, you’ll be long gone, okay?”

The weretiger sighs, then he murmurs, his voice so soft and quiet that Ryuu can barely hear him.

“But I don’t want to be feared.”

Ryuu’s next words leave his mouth before he realizes they’ve gone.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Atsushi looks up at him suddenly. His slightly-open mouth closes, and they stare at each other there, the night’s darkness and the hall’s light wrapping around their bodies.

Ryuu pulls his lips tight. Unsure what prompted him to speak, he clears his throat.

“We’ll start looking for a home for you tomorrow, okay?” He says quickly, changing the subject. “I know someone. He fosters children, but maybe he knows someone that’ll take you in.” Besides, that man is on Ryuu’s list of potential allies. He wouldn’t be going too far out of his way to try to recruit him now.

Just a few moments ago, Atsushi refused to make eye contact with Ryuu. Now it seems as if he can’t look away, and he holds the clothes in his arms like a security blanket, pressed tight against his chest.

“... Okay,” he says after a moment. Ryuu holds back a sigh of relief.

“Good,” he says, nodding once. He turns around to return to his room, but as if he has eyes in the back of his head, he stops, an incomplete feeling buzzing in his chest.

Ryuu looks behind himself. Atsushi still stands there, looking away again, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Inwardly, Ryuu releases that sigh.

“Do you want to stay in my room?” He asks as if such a thing would be more inconvenient than stopping the sun, but Atsushi nods anyway, slowly, looking up at Ryuu with eyes like a begging stray dog’s.

Ryuu almost watches him with suspicion as he wordlessly opens his bedroom door, motioning with his head for Atsushi to come inside.

Under Fitzgerald’s leadership, Ryuu’s not unused to people with two faces. People will put on a show, smiling and saying sweet words until they can sneak a gun against your head, and then their mask falls. Ryuu knows he’s no exception, but he can typically tell when someone’s hiding their truths, as long as they’re not as experienced as someone like Fitzgerald or Steinbeck.

But Atsushi. Ryuu looks behind his shoulder at the weretiger, who watches him as he pulls his spare futon from the closet and sets it out. Atsushi seems to have two sides, but neither of them appear fake. The first is ferocious to the point of being feral, full of wrath and rage, with anger as sharp as his claws. The second is far more gentle and trusting, fragile and humble, as if he wouldn’t love to crush at least one man’s skull in his feline jaws. Both are genuine. Both are Atsushi.

Both draw Ryuu ever closer, ever deeper.

“Done,” Ryuu mutters, putting the final pillow and blanket on the futon. “You’ll be more comfortable here than on the couch, I’m sure.”

Atsushi nods. He utters a small “thank you” before settling in, his shoulders rising and falling with his relaxed sigh. Ryuu climbs back into his own bed, purposefully facing away from Atsushi after he turns off the lamp. The weretiger must not understand his body language.

“Hey, Akutagawa-san?”

Ryuu grunts once in response.

“Did you work for Fitzgerald?”

His question gives Ryuu pause, so he says nothing, brow furrowing.

“I thought you did,” Atsushi continues, his voice a sleepy murmur, “because of things you said. And things the Black Lizard leader said.”

It takes a minute, but Ryuu finally finds his voice. He clears his throat.

“Yes,” comes his simple answer. He feared that answer. He feared answering Atsushi, who might hate him, judging all the atrocities he’s done, pushing him away again.

Instead, Atsushi gives a small hum.

“Did he buy you, too?” He asks.

Ryuu’s worries quiet. He turns his head slightly so that he can see Atsushi’s face, but the weretiger stares at the ceiling, eyes still glowing.

“No,” Ryuu says slowly. “He… Practically took me in.”

Atsushi gives a sad smile and a humorless chuckle.

“If only,” he says. “He heard about me because gangs couldn’t keep their mouths shut, and he bought me. Before that I was a black market prize.”

Atsushi winces as if the memories themselves hurt. “I was a one-man freak show. They would keep me around until they grew tired of me, then they’d sell me to the highest bidder. Before I was bought the first time, the orphanage treated me like an animal, cage and everything.”

Ryuu turns back to staring at the wall, almost shaking a little. Emotions stir in his chest that he can only label as that ever-present loneliness, that fear of losing what he’s coveted for so long, so he channels them the only way he knows how.

“I’ll kill the next person who lays a hand on you like that,” he snaps. Atsushi sighs a little.

“A lot of them are probably already dead,” he murmurs. “They’re not worth it, either. Focus your energy on someone more important.”

The supernatural glow of Atsushi’s eyes intensifies as his eyebrows knit together.

“Like Fitzgerald.”

The pure hatred with which Atsushi says his name causes Ryuu to sit up in bed to look at him. Like a switch was flipped, every ounce of gentleness in Atsushi’s countenance has been erased, leaving nothing but malice and deep-rooted pain.

That passion ignites an entirely different shade of his beauty.

“I can’t stand what he does to innocent people,” Atsushi goes on to say, squeezing his eyes shut, dimming the room by taking away that small light. “He doesn’t care. He thinks their lives have no value at all, not even his subordinates’ lives. I hated doing what he told me.” He takes a shaky breath, in and out slowly.

“He’d make me kill those people for him, Akutagawa-san,” he murmurs, and just as quickly as it came, the rage is gone. The pain in his face overpowers it, and he crosses one arm over his eyes. “I’m a monster.”

The silence after his words almost feels heavier than the words themselves. Mouth dry, Ryuu’s thoughts jumble together until they’re tangled, thoughts of how Atsushi would hate him if he ever saw Ryuu’s body count, of exactly how little Ryuu cared for those “innocents” he would kill on a daily basis, of how twenty-four hours ago, Ryuu would’ve agreed with Atsushi: by definition, the weretiger is a monster.

But now. Now it’s different. Now he’s seen more jagged edges of Atsushi’s multi-faceted soul. Now he has begun to understand. Now he’s overwhelmed, overwhelmed by Atsushi and his beauty and his soul and the beauty of his soul, so says the first words he manages to form, nearly whispering into the dark room,

“No you’re not.”

He hears Atsushi make a soft noise in the back of his throat. The weretiger moves his arm from his face, and his eyes shine directly on Ryuu, who doesn’t move. A frown pulls his lips taught and forms worry lines around his eyes, but still, Atsushi smiles.

“You’re not afraid of me, and you don’t think I’m a monster,” Atsushi says, echoing Ryuu’s words from before. A hum on his lips, he then curls the blanket around his shoulders, yawning slightly. “You’re the first to say that, Akutagawa-san.”

Once again, Atsushi closes his eyes, leaving the room in darkness aside from the few remaining streetlights outside the window. Ryuu takes a deep breath, lying down as well.

“Oi, Jinko,” he mutters, trying to keep the edge to his voice as something within him softens. “You can call me Akutagawa.”

Atsushi gives a small huff of a laugh, as if he sees right through him, even in the dark with his eyes closed.

“Then goodnight, Akutagawa,” he says, sleep making his words slow and blurred together.

Stomach turning in knots, Ryuu grunts in response, closing his eyes and willing his nightmares to stay away. The only image he sees as he falls asleep is Atsushi.

#shin soukoku #sskk #atsuaku #akuatsu #heavenbound #don't worry; this alligator scene will actually have something to do with the plot and move it along #even though i love the original for how bonkers it is #also the italics aren't coming in right so if you want to read this in its original formatting please read it on ao3 #and leave a comment and kudos while you're at it #validate my lovechild

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tarithenurse · 6 years ago

Text

On my mind, in my soul - 13

Prompt: Unfortunately, I’ve had no prompts that I was able to fit well with sorting the mess I’ve landed our heroine and Loki in. However, I heard a song which I think it’s going to help and a sister came up with the rest. This chapter’s prompts are as follow: “A little wicked” by Valerie Broussard, Bifrost , and a heart. Pairing: Loki x Burglar!reader. Content: Swearing as usual (I think), references to lovemaking, angst, sass, death threats, sadness, did I mention angst? We will get backer to happier days with citrussy goodness...eventually...maybe A/N: If you like, PLS reblog. Any comment is welcome! This chapter will probaably be the last untill I’ve handed in the paper on my BA project, sorry. Check out my masterlist in the meantime (can be found in bio)

Demanding

… Loki’s PoV …

The hollow sound cuts through walls and bones, through Loki’s very soul as he jolts awake in the cell within the very foundations of the castle. A blue shimmer runs across his limbs, but the fallen prince is oblivious to it as every part of his brain analyzes the options of defense against whichever unknown enemy Odin’s two wolves are warning the kingdom about. The beasts rarely make a sound louder than a barking greeting but now…this has only happened once or twice before in all of history when the ruler of Asgard had been in peril.

[Y/N]. Despite the woman’s odd position as a Midgardian guest introduced by Loki, surely the Einherjar or at least Thor will see to it that she’s safe. If only she will listen to them.

… Reader’s PoV …

No one calls you honey when you're sitting on a throne Beware the patient woman, cause this much I know

The heart’s thumping away rapidly in your chest as you see guard upon guard in gleaming armour line up in a circle all the way around the broad, golden throne where you’re sitting. At least the wolves have stopped howling, but it’s in favour of pacing the empty area between you and the spears that are lowered to point at you. Well, you try to assure yourself, it would’ve been too much to assume anything less. Still it’s with a certain apprehension that you accept which course your actions have set you upon.

“[Y/N],” Thor’s deep voice comes from somewhere behind you, “what are you doing?”

You don’t dare to turn around, to look for the face that you know will be radiating with confused concern. He’s taken kindly to you and it feels like you’re letting him down somehow. He’ll understand later. Keeping your head high and back straight, your eyes fix upon the gigantic door at the very end of the darkened throne room.

“Prince Thor,” you acknowledge, “is the king on his way?”

Coming around to stand before you, the blond god shoves one of the wolves unceremoniously out of his way, earning nothing more than a slight “yip”. “If all you wanted was to speak with father, I am sure a request would have been sufficient.”

The tone (though too rough) and comment are so familiar it makes your eyes sting. Yes, it might’ve been…but it wouldn’t send the right signal. Guilt and frustration wars within you, the spear is slippery in your hands that are holding it so tightly your knuckles are tingling. One wrong word or move, and any of those weapons pointed at you will suddenly be stuck through you…or maybe you’ll have an up-close encounter with the biggest wolves you’ve ever seen. And all for some stupid, calculative, seductive Trickster. I’m so fucked.

“An audience wouldn’t help much if the king doesn’t trust the extend of my dedication.”

“He would listen and consider any request.”

“Would he let Loki go if I asked him?” The silence and averted eyes are answers in their own right. “I thought so.”

“Yet this?” Strong arms sweep to encompass the scene around the opposing parties. “Lay down Gungnir, step down from the throne and let us talk.”

“I’d love to Thor…I really would.” For a moment you allow your steely appearance to falter, locking gazes with the prince through a haze. “But it wouldn’t help. Not anymore, because it won’t get me what –”

A thunderous impact of wood against stone signals the arrival of Odin stalking through the doors in a flood of torchlight that flickers and dances in the reflections of the armours of even more guards. Even from this distance, it’s obvious that he’s hastily dressed in something remarkably similar to a bathrobe, just not as fluffy. For a second, an image of the All-Father dressed in a pink, fluffy bathrobe and matching slippers appears in your mind but it’s chased away the moment you see his face contorted with rage. Yeah…I’m dead.

“What,” he hisses, surprisingly calmly, “is the meaning of this?” With long strides, Odin makes his way to the dais where everyone moves aside for him. Not you.

“Father, she clai–“

Thor’s cut off sharply: “Let her speak for herself unless you side with this mortal.”

Ouch. It’s hard to say what hurts the most, the venom laced into that last word or the way Thor looks to you pleadingly before stepping over to stand by his father.

“Your majesty,” you begin.

“So you recognize my authority, still,” Odin promptly challenges.

Managing to bite back a sigh, you count to ten before continuing. “I have no wish to denounce your rule, All-Father, you’ve been a kind host and I’m deeply grateful for the care and hospitality of Asgard.”

“Then enough of this nonsense. Seize her!”

You’re on your feet faster than you realize, the deadly sharp tip of Gungnir inches away from the old king as Thor and anyone else in the room pounces at you before stopping abruptly. That was too fast…how could I do that? There’s no time to consider it now, though, your focus solely on the Asgardian before you who’s looking down at his own weapon aimed at his chest. Okay, maybe your focus is slightly divided because the hot air of a pair of predators is curling around your neck and arms, sharp teeth bared as a last warning.

“[Y/N]…” Even Thor’s stunned at the development. “What are you doing?”

“You said it yourself, and really there’s no doubt…” The words nearly get stuck in your throat, but the doubt and guilt is gone, leaving behind a wonderful peace that Odin clearly recognizes. “Let Loki return to Midgard. You can banish him all you want but let him out and let him live.”

“You risk your life for him?” A watery, blue eye challenges your sanity.

“Yes.”

Clearly exasperated, Thor reaches for you but stops at the motion from his father. “[Y/N], be reasonable. Loki would not want this…he risked his life to save yours.”

“I know…and how am I supposed to live with that knowledge?”

To the king, I will bow, at least for now One of these days a-coming, I'm gonna take that boy's crown

… Loki’s PoV …

The howling has stopped. Einherjar have come and gone, at first whispering agitatedly amongst each other, but since then silence has fallen, laden with a different tension which can almost be tasted in the air. Chaos. Insecurity. Loki lives for these things, but normally he’s the one to cause them and being left out of the loop is infuriating to say the least. Pacing the bright cell, frost snakes from each footstep in tendrils towards the walls as the Jotun’s attention and concerns are anywhere but with himself, the only apparent consolation being that there appears to have been no bloodshed. What has happened?

Faint voices hint at new arrivals to the dungeons and Thor appears shortly after on the other side of the golden shimmer that keeps the prisoner safely inside the perimeter.

“Brother, what is going on? Is [Y/N] safe?” The words have left Loki’s mouth in a garbled hurry.

There’s an electric shine to the older brother’s eyes and…is that…amusement? “If by safe you mean currently alive, then yes.”

“Don’t be cryptic, it suits you ill.”

This time a broad smile proves the suspicion. “Your girlfriend’s currently holding father at spear point.”

The words individually make sense but strung together like this and accompanied by the twisted amusement the meaning as a whole becomes blurred. Loki witnesses, as though removed from his own body, how the barrier is lowered and the brothers and a few einherjar leave the dismal dungeons.

Every nerve sing with the tension crackling from the people surrounding the slender prisoner, fusing his mind and body again. Oh, how he used to love that sensation. The thrill of watching others scrabble helplessly to understand and survive the chaos dragging them anywhere at once. This time it’s different because not only does he recognize the frantic uncertainty, Loki’s sharing in it. What is she doing? The bafflement that had consumed the Trickster at first is replaced by an array of possible scenarios which all, somehow, grab his heart in a vice. Spearpoint. Glancing at his brother, the hope that Thor merely is jesting is snuffed – the warrior does not posses such humour. Odin at spearpoint. No such thing should be able to happen without the offender losing their life the instant the weapon was readied. Unless…

“The spear. The spear.” Loke recalls the impossible weight of Gungnir perfectly although years have passed.

Thor grunts in approval. “And she wields it well, I may add.”

Two corridors pass in a seemingly endless blur before the group finally enters the grand hall through a side door, granting Loki an immediate view of the strangely twisted situation. A golden ring of nervous guards surround the only calm people, yet Odin and [Y/N] should logically be the most agitated in this scene due to the evident threat to their lives. The tip of Gungnir wavers delicately with each breath of the Midgardian. Grace. Unbidden, Loki appreciates the ferocious beauty of the woman, her body poised and controlled. Deadly perfection.

“Beloved.” She doesn’t flinch at his word, merely smiles. “What are you doing?”

“I’m negotiating your release.”

Moving closer, Loki sees the shift in the wolves standing at either side of the woman he loves. They are ready to attack her, tear out the delicate throat that has moaned his name so prettily. Only Odin’s order holds the beasts back. Why hasn’t he let them? Soft wrinkles and fragile skin speak silently of the millennia the king has lived and the hardships he has navigated the kingdom safely through until reaching this very point in time and space where a mortal holds the king’s spear to the king’s own heart. A few delicate threads in the robe have already been damage by the sharp metal.

“You…decided the best way to plead my case was by threatening the All-Father with Gungnir?”

[Y/E/C] never leave the single pale blue before her. “Frankly, I didn’t actually intend for this to happen,” the words are softened by her own chuckle, “I w’s snooping ‘round to learn more ‘bout what I’m up against…came here and saw the spear lying, so…I decided to try’t out.”

“Geri and Freki often spend the nights here,” Odin muses softly, “they saw you.”

“Correct, your highness.” The smile’s gone from the lips Loki has come to adore. “Forced to improvise then.”

Gentle, despite the stern voice, the woman explains her demands: in exchange for letting the king live and get Gungnir back, she and Loki will be allowed to leave Asgard safely, banished once more for eternity or unless the verdict be retracted. She even apologises for the turn of events, admitting that it’s a poor way of repaying a life debt.

Silence returns while Odin considers the proposal.

Hands red, hands red just like he said I am a little wicked

Using the time to look around, the adopted son finds that more people have appeared in the shadows from where they watch nervously. Several faces are familiar such as Heimdall’s and Sif’s, old friends whom he abandoned and lost the right to count on, adding to the pain that drove Loki too far astray. I got red in my ledger too. No Asgard has long since seized being the fallen prince’s home.

“[Y/N] daughter of [Y/mom’s/N],” Odin announces loud enough for all to hear, “even if your actions had been limited to wielding Gungnir and sitting on the throne the sentence would have been eternal imprisonment.”

Let her live, she does not understand our customs. Loki can feel the nails bite into his palms, but he must stay calm or the pending verdict may become even worse. Gaze flicking from the two figures, an unconditional admiration takes root in his heart at the stoicism with which this fragile mortal is facing her doom.

“From our conversations, I have learned that you are intelligent and kind of nature and it leads me to believe that violence holds no interest for you,” Odin continues, earning a soft nod, “thus your motivation must stem from somewhere else…the love you have found for Loki…a love that he has proven with the breach of his sentence to be mutual.” The slightest quiver of [Y/N] lips threatens to break Loki’s resolve. “I remember love. There was not one thing I would not do for my beloved Frigga.” A silent tear slips from Odin’s healthy eye. “I accept your terms, [Y/N] of Midgard. Upon my word, no ill shall befall you or Loki on my orders if you leave now.”

… Reader’s PoV …

Sometimes life can work out really well despite how hard you’ve tried to fuck things up. Staring at Odin, you feel your mouth fall open as what he just said seeps into your brain. All right. Slowly stepping back while trying to ignore the imposing presences of the wolves, you accept that the mad plan worked. Yes. Right then. Mouth closing, you still can’t shut up the inner voice that reminds you that technically there hadn’t been a plan, just a stupid idea grabbed out of nowhere as an avalanche of troubles started rolling. Okay. Yes. That’s it. Both wolves step aside as you turn the spear for Odin to take. The moment it leaves your hands, you start shaking from all that has transpired.

“Thank you,” you manage to squeak to the king.

Old but strong hands grab your upper arms soothingly. “I do not condone of your actions…yet I have hope, the love the two of you hold for each other may be vital.”

Next moment it’s Loki’s arms around you and his hands tugging you so close you only can breathe in his scent.

It’s not really you, that walk with the tall, black-haired god through the city, along the Bifrost (which you only vaguely realize is one of the most breathtakingly gorgeous things you’ve ever seen) and into a golden sphere of magical, Asgardian technology. It’s a bit more you that bids the king farewell after listening to the consequences if you or Loki should return uninvited (death both or, if only one of you pulls such a stunt, at least for the trespasser and imprisonment for the other). It is however completely you, that feels the full force of the rainbow bridge hurtling you through the universe, dropping pieces of your organs and mind along the way. Or so it feels.

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igniferrus · 7 years ago

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Conventional Wisdom

Conventional wisdom states that you don’t make deals with demons.

Emlyn learnt this at age four, sitting porcelain doll still at Lord Alcott’s side during a society dinner. Four years had been enough to teach her many things, like how to walk silently, all the little nooks and crannies in the manor that can hide her treasures — or, in a pinch, Emlyn herself — and that being able to listen unnoticed to the Lord could provide invaluable information on his mood and intentions.

It was easier to go unnoticed as the dusk closed in and the men and women around her turned their attention from food to drink, alcohol loosening their tongues and dulling their senses. It was then, sitting among them and half hidden in the shadows untouched by the low burning candles, that tiny Emlyn first heard the warning: you don’t make deals with demons. She had been debating going to bed, unsure if leaving the room without dismissal or staying where she wasn’t welcome would beget more punishment, when a sudden hush fell, and the atmosphere changed from lighthearted banter to an unbearable tension. She tuned back into the conversation she’d been half-listening to.

“We don’t speak of such things, Jerome. To even mention one of those contracts is to invite an unwanted guest into this house. Lord Alcott will most likely have to hire a mage to ensure his safety,” hissed some duchess at the unfortunate speaker, who was now the focus of hostility.

The venom in her voice had intrigued Emlyn, who leaned forward in an effort to hear more of the conversation. This movement drew a squeak from the old chair she was seated on and brought all the attention to her.

A moment later, Lord Alcott was there, a tight smile on his face and a bruising grip on her arm, hauling Emlyn out of her chair and the room itself. He dragged her from the room, loudly proclaiming that he would return after putting his ward to bed. She went with him obediently, unafraid of her guardian in public places and unwilling to upset him in private.

That night, she sat alone in the dark, puzzling over the implications of her new knowledge. The next day found Emlyn sequestered in the library, trusting books, her only friends, to answer the questions she had. She only found the same words over and over again: you don’t make deals with demons.

Thoughts of demons are driven from Emlyn’s mind at age six. Like at four, she was small and thin for her age, but it was not enough to dampen the natural buoyancy of children. Emlyn bounced around the manor, dresses supplemented with the castoff trousers from the cook’s young son, as no one had been able to find a way to get her to stop climbing trees for good.

Emlyn was, however, wont to come inside when it started to rain. Not out of the desire to stay dry or even clean, or, as many assumed, the fear her weak body would fall ill again. Lord Alcott’s wrath at the extensive puddles even an undersized child could make while sopping wet put an end to any schemes that might take Emlyn out into the rain.

It was one such rainy day that she found it. With the ambient sounds of the weather as her backdrop, Emlyn wandered the hall of the manor, turning the problem of demonic contracts over in her mind. It had been a frequent topic for her to ponder over the last two years, and she returned to it again and again, for the simple reason that she could not figure out why the adults around her were so fearful.

From what she’d read, and the books were admittedly reticent with any information of substance, deals with demons could bring great boons, except the summoners had the nasty habit of dying. To the simple mind of a child, the answer seemed clear: plan ahead and you’ll be fine.

Her musings had distracted her from where her feet had taken her, and Emlyn ended up further in the southern wing of the manor than ever before. That specific wing belonged to Lord Alcott, and while it wasn’t forbidden for Emlyn to explore it, it was most certainly not encouraged. The tacit promise of pain or punishment was generally enough to keep Emlyn away.

Perhaps being forced to stay inside made her particularly impish, or maybe it was sheer boredom, but on that stormy day Emlyn decided to investigate Lord Alcott’s private wing. For the most part, it was the same as the rest of the manor — ornate but uncomfortable furniture and large portraits of Lord Alcott in every room.

Less than an hour after her exploration started, Emlyn grew disinterested. She was about to give up and return to the main section of the manor, when a tiny door shrouded in shadows caught her eye. Curiosity piqued, she crept closer, holding her breath in excitement. It seemed to be the entrance to some sort of vault, and it took much struggling for Emlyn to heave the heavy door open.

Upon opening it, her hopes were dashed. It was a small, cold storage room filled with paintings. Emlyn blew a piece of hair out of her eyes and made a face at the way the dust in the air swirled in response. It was a vanity vault, where her guardian stored all the self portraits he couldn’t hang on the walls. Just as she turned to haul the door shut, something caught her eye, as the light from the hallway illuminated one of the canvases. Blond hair.

Emlyn froze for a minute, then began to silently laugh. These portraits had obviously been put away to avoid the shame of having grey hair in one’s late twenties. Shoulders still shaking with mirth, she approached the painting — really, Lord Alcott’s looked hadn’t suffered much, and if he were anyone else she might have called his long silver tresses handsome and — the boy in the painting had blue eyes.

Lord Alcott’s eyes were a dark brown, so the boy was clearly not him, and Emlyn was at a loss for his true identity. Further examination showed that the painting of were all of unfamiliar children, all at roughly twelve years of age. There was nothing similar between these children, except their stiff and formal pose and their chair. Despite finding nothing concrete to justify it, Emlyn’s stomach churned with dread.

Then she saw it. One of the painted girls’ white sleeve had been transparent enough at the time that the artist had captured the mark on the inside of her forearm, just below her elbow. It was a bruise blue circle with intersecting lines surrounding the star at its center. It matched Emlyn’s perfectly.

Lord Alcott had always told her it was magic — meant to help stop her mystery sickness in a way the doctors couldn’t. When she was particularly weak, he held her arm in both hands and ran his thumbs over it hungerly. She had always assumed it was because despite everything, he wanted her to get better.

Her face whitened in shock as she began to understand. The odds of Lord Alcott even knowing two girls with the same unknown disease were astronomical, much less gain custody of them both because — because she knew that wallpaper behind the other girl, she saw it everyday in the parlor. So even if the ages didn’t line up — the girl looked twelve, Lord Alcott wasn’t yet thirty, and Emlyn was six and had never heard of her — the girl had lived in this house. And there were thousands more portraits.

Confused and uncertain, Emlyn backed out of the vault until her back hit one of the decorative tables in the hall and a vase shattered on the ground. This loud noise startled Emlyn out of her trance and made her jump. Breathless, she glanced about, pounding heart shuttering to a halt when she saw the stony visage of Lord Alcott.

“You were always one of the most inquisitive ones,” he said with a sigh as a hand reached out to grab onto one of her pigtails and yanked Emlyn closer. She tamped down on the instinctive whimper of pain, as it would do no good to have Lord Alcott hear it. It never brought relief and sometimes made him angrier.

He knelt, looped an arm around her waist and drew Emlyn close to his chest in a way that would be comforting if she trusted him. The furious expression on his face made Emlyn want to cringe away from him, but not even terror could quell her inquisitive nature.

“It’s killing me, isn’t it?” she asked softly, fingering the sigil on her arm.

“Yes,” he answered slowly, “but your essence is keeping me alive, and isn’t that a great honour?”

Emlyn shook her head wildly, a frightened whine escaping from her throat. She pushed against Lord Alcott’s chest, trying to loosen his hold.

“You — you’re my guardian, you’re supposed to protect me! Someone will stop you!” she wailed in childish distress. Her flailing ceased when Lord Alcott grabbed her jaw, tightening his grip until it hurt.

“You are only one among thousands of my batteries. I have lived many lives and haven’t been caught yet.” Lord Alcott let go off her chin and brushed a stray lock of hair back with a false, cold smile. “My batteries rarely live past twenty, little one, so I suggest you keep me happy if you want the rest of your short life to be pleasant.”

Quick as a flash, Lord Alcott scooped up of the vase shards and brought it down from eyebrow to cheek. Emlyn stood frozen in the cage of his arms for a second, until the blood began to gush down the left side of her face, then she gave out a choked cry.

“Remember your place,” Lord Alcott’s deep voice came from somewhere above her. She paid no attention to his leaving, nor his shouts for help — shouts that his precious, sickly, girl had tripped into a vase while running in the halls — as she sank to her knees from the pain. In the wake of the startling revelation and the agony, everything else seemed to fade away.

It was not until age nine that the warning and its associated questions were brought back to her attention. She had been climbing on the bookcases in the library in an attempt to see the higher shelves. This quest for new reading material bore fruit, and Emlyn leapt down with an — outdated, if the condition and age of the cover was anything to go by — encyclopedia of demonology.

Shortly after, she was confined to her bedroom, excused from daily life under the usual pretense of being a sickly child, though she really was quite well apart from the contusions and sprained wrist. Unwilling to risk more of Lord Alcott’s ire, Emlyn resigned herself to boredom until she remembered the old tome stashed under her bed. The weeks passed by in a blur of miniscule script and burgeoning ideas, and before she knew it, Emlyn was free to move about the manor again — and gather supplies.

The process was tedious and time consuming. It took months for Emlyn to gather the supplies, as she was forced to steal it in bits and pieces. Her light fingers were able to filch phoenix feathers, herbs, and even an ounce of silver without detection, among other ingredients. The chalk used to draw the sigil was easy enough to get, she just pocketed a stub when one of the labourers asked her to take their scraps to the garbage.

The night she chose to conduct her ritual was carefully chosen. Lord Alcott himself was one town over, paying tribute to someone higher on the social ladder than he; the various staff had taken advantage of this and drank during the early evening and slept soundly. Not a creature stirred as Emlyn crept downstairs, books and supplies cradled in her arms.

In the damp of the cellar, she drew the sigil so that it covered the entire floor. The intricate central circle provided the majority of the power, while the four peripheral circles stabilized the magic. With every ingredient in place, she lit dozens of candles placed strategically around the room, picked up the most worn of the books, and read aloud from the bookmarked page.

The effect was immediate. The flames around her took on an unearthly green glow and the already chilly air plummeted in temperature. In the distance, there was the distorted howl of some animal, clearly in pain. The outline of a twisted form faded in and uncurled, revealing a creature that seemed to be made of grey mist. Its features were largely indistinguishable, aside from the horse’s head.

The demon stared, and Emlyn had to concede she was most likely not the expected summoner. Even at nine, she was undersized, with the gauntness and pallor that were part and parcel of ill health. Her shoulder length black curls were pulled into pigtails with red ribbons, which, coupled with her oversized nightgown, gave the appearance of an even younger child. At odds with this image was the striking scar on her face, and defiant set of her mouth.

In the silence between them, Emlyn, unsure of proper demon summoning etiquette, stepped forward and offered her hand.

“Hello, esteemed one,” she began, having been raised to be the model of politeness, “I would like to read your grimoire, please.”

The horse head did not move, yet Emlyn both heard and felt the reply deep in her chest.

“Little one, we demons are not foolish enough to bring our grimoire into the realm of mortals,”

“I understand, esteemed one,” the answer had been expected. A demon’s grimoire was the sum of its knowledge of magic. Each demon had their own personal version, though some spells and enchantments were universal. They were jealously guarded, for they contained incredibly powerful magic, and had never been brought into the tangible world of humans; they were kept in the spirit realm inaccessible to most beings. Emlyn gripped her forearm tightly, the sigil seeming to burn her hand through her nightclothes. “However, I still wish to read it. I need the information it contains,”

The horse head loomed nearer, and the thick grey mist curled around the child, clutching at her possessively. “Are you offering to make a deal with me, little Emlyn Alcott?”

Emlyn shuttered at the use of her full name, but she was not ready to admit defeat.

“Yes,” her voice was naught more than a hoarse whisper. The foundations of the manor shook with the demon’s laughter.

“What can you offer me that I cannot obtain for myself?” demanded the demon, who obviously did not believe the waif could actually offer anything of value.

“A physical vessel in the human world,” replied Emlyn without hesitation.

The demon took a moment to ponder the child in front of it. Her posture was open, welcoming even, and held nothing defensive in it. Her expression was calm, and she stared directly ahead, neither shying away from the demon, nor challenging it. The demon could detect no deceit in Emlyn, and it decided that yes, she truly intended to exchange demonic possession for the chance to read its grimoire.

Emlyn’s lack of hesitation was mirrored in the demon. It noted with glee that the child was clearly a novice mage — if even that. She had used a truly impressive amount of reference books to achieve a summoning enchantment so weak the demon had originally come only to investigate how some fool had accidentally called on it. There was little chance she would be able to understand any of the concepts in its grimoire, so there would be no danger in allowing her to read it while the demon ran amok in her body. With a predator’s sharp smile on its horse face, the demon accepted Emlyn’s deal.

It felt like a violent tumble down the stairs. The sudden lose of sure footing, the feeling of falling head over heels, and the disorientation they caused were familiar, though it lacked the grounding sensation of finally hitting the ground and the pain that signified the ordeal was over.

It didn’t feel over. Emlyn felt like she was floating, it was a strange sense of weightlessness that jarred her senses and made her feel a little nauseous. More disconcerting was looking up and seeing how her own body grinned hellishly back at her, the demon’s telltale grey mist flowing gently from her eyes, mouth, and nose. Looking down, Emlyn noted distantly that she was, in fact, floating, her faded and incorporeal bare feet dangled half a foot above the floor.

With a wave of its — her — hand, the demon’s grimoire popped gently into being, on the same half-real plane of existence Emlyn inhabited. She reached for it and held it as tightly as two unreal things could hold each other. She tucked her legs up under her, and hovered there in an approximation of sitting, and eagerly inspected her prize.

Only when Emlyn first bit her lip in confusion did the demon feel confident enough to leave. It turned and took one step towards the door when it slammed face first into a containment field. It whirled on the girl, whose concentration was still fully on the tome in her hands.

“What is the meaning of this?” it shrieked in a mixture of its previous otherworldly voice and Emlyn’s own childish one.

“Anything with too high of a level of demonic energy cannot leave the containment field of the summoning circle. Surely you were aware of that?” responded Emlyn without looking up; she was trailing her finger down one of the last pages, too fast to actually be reading it.

The demon snarled under its breath as it looked down and confirmed that the child’s feet were indeed firmly planted within the chalk outlines of the circle. For a moment it was lost in its own confusion. How could this be, when a summoning circle had to be activated from the outside? Then the rage returned as it remembered that the first thing Emlyn had done after she had seen the demon, after she was certain the summoning ritual was complete, was take a step forward.

It made the demon want to howl in a way the human body it now inhabited was incapable of. Its grand plan of causing mayhem, defeated before it even began. Now the child would have the privilege of reading a demon’s grimoire without paying a toll! Then, a malicious, self-satisfied smile curled the body’s mouth. The child could read if she wanted to because there was no way a novice, no matter how clever, would be able to comprehend the complex theories.

The demon’s sudden chuckle wrenched Emlyn’s attention from the grimoire to her possessed body. At her questioning look, the demon explained the reasoning for its mirth.

“We are at an impasse, child. I wish to be free of these constraints, and you will undoubtedly want to return to your own world. Only I have the power to return us to our original states, and I demand payment equal to my humiliation.”

“I could let you die,” Emlyn’s pronouncement effectively killed the demon’s laughter, its — her — face looking lost and confused. “You’re in a mortal body that can’t leave this area. It is already malnourished. How long do you think you have before you starve? It’s only in your interests to switch back, as I could happily read your grimoire for the rest of eternity.”

The demon screeched, head flung back and looking wild, with the grey mist still coiling around its face mingling with the blood trickling from its nose — the result of walking smashing into the containment field. While in the thralls of its fit, the demon failed to notice how Emlyn traced her finger in a pattern on the cover of the grimoire, murmuring something under her breath.

Without warning, the falling sensation ended. Emlyn’s head spun, in part from the pain of being thrust back into her body, but also because of the throbbing in her nose. With her unoccupied hand, she wiped the blood from her face while glaring furiously at the demon.

“That hurt,” she muttered, and stepped away from the clearly livid demon, hoping that her rudimentary containment field would not fail her at the most crucial moment.

“You will pay —” the demon cut itself off when it caught sight of what was in Emlyn’s hand. The grimoire’s cover glowed eerily, the pattern a simple bonding charm, and the lilac light implied the book had accepted its new master.

It lunged for her but was once again stopped by the containment field. The horse head tilted at an angle that suggested a broke neck as the demon considered its revenge. Unconcerned by its obvious frenzied attempts on her life, Emlyn cut her energy off from the summoning circle, and the sudden lack of fuel caused it to fizzle out and die. The demon faded as the candle light returned to its usual colour, cursing Emlyn’s name.

Tucking her prize securely under her arm, Emlyn quickly and efficiently cleaned up the evidence of that night’s work before she returned to bed for a few more hours of sleep, the grimoire under her pillow.

Since that fateful night, whenever Emlyn’s chores took her down to the cellar, she felt the dark presence she assumed were low level demons that were attracted to the site of a summoning. Using the grimoire, she decided on a few trinkets and treats she thought they’d like and began leaving them in the spots where the demons congregated.

After all, conventional wisdom states that if you make an enemy, it was best to make some friends too, and Emlyn wasn’t done making enemies yet.

#Aphelion 'Verse #Emlyn Alcott #I'll never find all the errors so I'm just posting it #I'm going to inflict my writing on all of you #and no one can stop me

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secretagentspydetectiveninja · 7 years ago

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The Misadventures of Prince Kim - chapter 44

I have a lot of new followers recently, so I guess I’ll reintroduce this fic - it’s basically a royalty AU where most of the characters are members of royalty or nobility and at a boarding school that teaches them how to rule.

So if you ever have a bit of spare time and want to read it so far, be prepared for 155k+ words of: Prince Kim being an idiot, Prince Max also being an idiot, lots of fluff, lots of angst, lots of crack, timey-wimey nonsense, geography lessons, assassination attempts, civil wars, a venomous snake that’s a surprisingly good lacrosse player, starcrossed Adrienette, too many unrequited crushes, Pharaoh Alix being the coolest person alive (but also an idiot), and the slowest burn Kimax you will ever read!!

Also on AO3 as always, where you can read the whole thing.

The new gym opened early the very next morning. Kim had made a pact to be the first one there, but he arrived only to look through the glass to see someone familiar already inside, little black pigtails tied up in red ribbons, tapping buttons on the panel of a treadmill–

“MARINETTE!” he yelled, bursting through the door.

“Kim?” She looked up at him, surprised, then smiled and waved. “I’m so glad you’re here too!”

He strode up to her and put his hands on his hips. “How dare you get here before me?!”

Her smile fell immediately. “I couldn’t sleep, and I needed some way to get my thoughts away from… well…”

Oh, of course. She was probably missing Adrien again.

“You were thinking about your pet cat, were you?” he asked. That was the code that people seemed to have been using for Adrien recently.

“Yeah, I was.” She looked around a little, but there were no guards nearby to overhear. She leaned in closer and whispered, “I think I might send him a letter later.”

“But won’t they check the mail?”

“I could just do it secretly. Write a letter to my parents asking them to give my regards to my pet cat Felix, something like that, I’m sure they’d understand what I mean…”

“Yeah, maybe that’ll work then…”

“Anyway!” she said more loudly now, standing back. “Ready for some exercise?”

Kim nodded. “Of course I am! Remember when we were little kids and we used to go for runs together?”

Marinette giggled. “How could I forget? Those were so fun. Our caretakers were always losing us in the woods and getting so stressed out.”

“And you were always getting so annoyed that I could run faster than you. Which is still true, by the way.”

Marinette stepped up onto the treadmill’s conveyer belt and pressed a few buttons. It started moving slowly, and she walked along on it. “Are you sure? Because I’ve been doing a lot of training these recent holidays, while you and Max were busy having loosely defined lacrosse matches and slow-dancing with each other at the Peace Ball.”

Kim felt the heat creeping up his face. “Did Alya tell you about that?”

“Yep. She and Nino told me about lots of things. Like you getting a new nickname thanks to a cheeky servant from Max’s kingdom. Emperor Palpatine, was it?”

“Everyone else has got tired of calling me that, so don’t you start now!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t!” Marinette increased the speed on the treadmill slightly. “And I was told in lots of detail about the lacrosse match too. It sounded fun!”

“Yeah, it was.” Kim hopped onto a nearby treadmill himself and pressed a few of the buttons, not really knowing how to work these machines. It started up with a jolt, knocking him off balance slightly, though he quickly righted himself and began walking. “I’m so good at lacrosse now.”

“Indeed. I’m sure Max thinks so, anyway.”

Kim didn’t say anything. He looked away and hoped Marinette would assume that his red face was from the exercise – despite the fact that the treadmill was still only going at walking pace and he didn’t know how to change it.

“Apparently you also did some responsible royalty things, like going to International Alliance meetings and making allies with some of the most powerful countries in the world.”

“Yeah, I totally did that,” Kim said, running a hand through his hair and ignoring that most of the International Alliance members seemed to be have been treating him like some lost little kid that they were taking pity on, rather than a future leader who needed their assistance.

“Good! Hopefully with their help, things will be sorted out soon. And then… Adrien…”

She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to. If the Agreste Empire lost power somehow, or Emperor Gabriel calmed down somewhat, then Adrien might be able to return to school freely without fear of house arrest. And Kim would be able to go home too.

“How do you make this thing go faster?” Kim asked, changing the subject. He pressed a few buttons but all it did was increase the incline of the slope slightly.

“Here,” Marinette said, leaning over and showing him.

“Ah, thanks…”

He pressed the button again and again until the machine was going fast enough for him to need to jog. There, that was better!

“I also heard about you getting stuck in that lift with Alix for several hours,” Marinette continued. “Even Alya says she doesn’t know exactly what happened there.”

“It’s a secret,” Kim said, trying not to laugh. “No one will ever guess. But you’re welcome to try.”

“Hmm… fist fight?”

“Nope.”

“A, um, repeat of the winter party incident?”

“Still nope.”

“Did you tell her about your crush on Max then?”

“Pfffff, she already knew about that, I told her ages ago…”

“So you DO have a crush on Max!” Marinette yelled, far too loud.

“What?! I – NO, I mean… I never said anything about… I…”

“You just admitted it!”

“No I didn’t!” Kim said quickly, silently cursing himself.

“I knew it, I knew it! I figured it out even quicker than Alya did–”

“Well don’t tell anyone!” Kim quickly looked around but luckily there still wasn’t anyone else in here. Of course he had guessed that Marinette already knew, but at least she hadn’t properly said anything about it. Until now, anyway.

“I won’t tell a soul, don’t worry,” she said, laughing a little, “though to be honest, it’s obvious enough that I don’t need to tell anyone.”

Kim just didn’t say anything. If that was the case, then did Max himself know? Or would he be the last person to figure it out? And why was that always the case with people Kim had crushes on?!

Marinette turned her treadmill up faster, to the point where she was running at a slightly higher speed than Kim. He could have sworn she had the tiniest of smirks on her face. The kind that she would do on purpose a lot when they were much younger, when she won tennis matches against him in the scorching summer heat, or pulled off a particularly successful prank. He remembered how annoyingly charming he had always found it, though he had never quite fallen for her in a way other than friendship. Then again, he was fairly certain that Chloé’s haughty smirk at a certain birthday banquet several years ago was what managed to capture his heart back then, and he knew for a fact that Alix’s competitive smirks were at least 90% of the reason he had ever been interested in her.

Huh… maybe he had a type when it came to girls?

But for now, there was no girl who he was into. Imagining Max cheering him on, he put on his own smirk and turned the treadmill up so that he was running faster than Marinette again.

“I can still run faster,” he muttered.

Rather than saying anything, she just raised her eyebrows and increased the speed of her treadmill again, overtaking him. Well, Kim certainly wasn’t having that. He turned his speed up by several notches. She turned hers up even more, looking like she was starting to tire out a little. Good! Kim carried on increasing his speed, wondering how fast these machines could even go.

They carried on trying to outdo each other for the next few minutes, Marinette now huffing and puffing as she tried her best to keep up despite her much shorter strides. Kim couldn’t help chuckling a little. There was no way she would ever be able to beat him, no matter what! Alright, she was very determined, he could admit that much. But it was no real challenge.

“Just give up and slow down before you fall over,” Kim said, grinning, tiring out himself somewhat now – though surely nowhere near as much as Marinette.

“Never!” she managed to gasp out, before turning up the speed to the point where she was practically sprinting.

“Hah, you’ll never beat me!” Kim taunted, increasing his speed well beyond hers, knowing she would never be able to catch up. “I’m the fastest runner for my age group in my entire kingdom, and probably faster than anyone at this school, I bet I could even outrun a panther, that’s how fast I–”

His foot slipped. The next thing he knew, he had been flung backwards off the treadmill and was lying on the floor.

“Kim! Are you okay?”

Marinette pressed a button that slowed her treadmill to a stop, then jumped off and ran over to him, still sounding so tired out that she could hardly speak. Kim sat up, rubbing the back of his head. It didn’t even hurt that much – he was just embarrassed.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” he said, standing back up and trying to look casual. “I’ve decided I don’t like treadmills.”

Marinette managed to let out a little laugh through her heavy breaths. “Because you fell off?”

“No, psshhh, I just prefer running outdoors on actual real life ground. Yeah. And I’m still faster than you. And don’t even think about telling anyone what just happened.”

“Of course I won’t.”

“Thanks, Mari.”

Maybe it was a better idea to try out some of the other equipment instead, and perhaps this time not accidentally get into a competition with Marinette. Thank goodness Alix wasn’t here, since she was probably the one person who would make Kim feel even more competitive than that. And thank goodness Max wasn’t here either – what if he had seen Kim fall off the treadmill like some kind of idiot? That would just be the worst thing ever. But Max hadn’t wanted to come to the gym, preferring to get ahead with some homework in peace during these early hours of the day. Phew.

Kim turned around to see someone tapping on the glass outside the gym, holding up a water bottle–

Not just anyone! Max!

Kim quickly wheeled back around, holding his hand up to the side of his face to shield it from view. “Marinette… please tell me that’s not Max standing outside…”

“That’s Max,” Marinette sighed.

“Do you think he saw me just now?”

She shrugged. “Ask him.”

He heard the door of the gym opening, followed by Max’s voice.

“Kim? You forgot your water bottle! I don’t want you to get dehydrated, so I brought it to you – make sure your fluid intake is adequate, alright? Oh hello Marinette, good to see you too…”

Kim took a deep breath, then went over to Max to take the water bottle. He was still in his pyjamas, his springy hair somewhat scruffy, a sleepy grin on his face. It was so oddly… cute. And when Max stifled a yawn, and pushed a few fingers under his glasses to rub the sleep dust out of his scrunched-up eyes, Kim had to hold back a gasp. How was Max just so… so effortlessly… perfect?

“I’m assuming you aren’t injured?” Max asked.

“Ahahaha, w-why would I be injured?” Kim asked, taking a quick sip from the water bottle.

“It looked like you had a bit of an accident with the treadmill.”

“You saw that?” Kim was sure he was blushing, so he looked away and hoped the bright yellow lights in here would make it less noticeable. He would fight that stupid treadmill if he could.

Max put a hand on Kim’s shoulder. “It didn’t look very serious, and such accidents are very common with treadmills, so I’m not worried. But if you notice any unusual pain or differences in movement then make sure you go to the medical centre and get it checked up, just in case.”

How was Max such a sweet person? It was unfair, that was what it was. Unfair that it made Kim’s heart beat so much faster than any exercise ever could.

“I will, thanks Max,” he said. “And thanks for bringing me my water bottle.”

“It’s no problem. Keep up the exercise, both of you – you’re doing an amazing job! Anyway, I’ve got work to be getting back to, so I’ll leave you now…”

Flashing them another precious smile, Max waved and walked off out of the room again. Kim immediately put down the water bottle and pulled the top of his shirt up so far it was covering his entire face, feeling too flustered to function. Max was just so cute, so sweet, so wonderful, so amazing – Kim was going to go crazy if he didn’t do something about it soon!!!

“You are a mess,” he heard Marinette saying.

“Like you were with Adrien?” he mumbled, still hiding his face in his shirt.

“I was probably worse, I couldn’t even talk to Adrien. But Kim – I want you to remember something.”

He felt her pulling the shirt back down from his face to reveal her looking at him somewhat more seriously than before.

“Max is your best friend,” she said. “Don’t let this crush on him change that. Yeah, you were embarrassed about falling off a treadmill in front of him, I would be the same with Adrien! But would you have been so embarrassed about it before you fell in love with Max? Or would you have not minded, since he’s your best friend and you know he won’t judge you for things like that?”

She was right. Or at least… kind of.

“I think it’s just when other people are around,” he admitted. “Not that I’m annoyed that you were here, or anything! It’s just… when I’m with him, and it’s just the two of us, it’s so comforting, and I don’t feel like an idiot. But when there are other people around, that’s when I get… kinda… self-conscious, I guess…”

He hated saying this kind of thing, being introspective, all of that stuff. But this was Marinette. He’d known her longer than anyone else, even longer than Max. If there was anyone he could tell absolutely anything, it was her. (Except for what happened in that lift, of course.)

“Fair enough,” she said. “Hey, are you going to give him a Cupid sticker on the Cupid Festival day?”

He looked at her sudden bright, excited smile. Everyone seemed so keen to get the two of them together. It was so nice to know how supportive people were.

“Probably,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll do something, at least. I have to tell him.”

“Yes, you so do! I’m sure it’ll go really well! I’m rooting for you!”

Kim gave the top of her hair a quick ruffle. “Thanks, Mari. You’re the best. Well, except at sports, because I’m the best, and I’m gonna prove it. What’s next?”

Marinette looked around. “We could go for the spinning cycles next, but don’t fall off this time!”

Kim laughed. “I won’t, I promise you!”

The two of them headed over to the other side of the room and continued their gym session, as a few more student began to trickle in now that it was slightly later in the morning.

14th February was not too far away now. Not far away at all. The month of February had already started, and time was running out to make preparations in order to ensure that Operation: Kimax would be a success. Alix had sort of been procrastinating on it. She knew she had to do it without Alya’s help, but who else to ask? Sure, she had other friends in the class, but still. It was pretty obvious that most of these “friends” found her a bit intimidating, despite her best efforts not to be.

Oh well, there wasn’t enough time left to wait any longer. She had to get going now.

“Mylène!” she called from the library entrance, waving, earning her glares and shushes from the rest of the students in here who were trying to work – at least until they saw that it was Pharaoh Alix, and they quickly looked back down without complaining further.

Mylène looked up and saw her, returning the wave along with a sweet smile. Thank goodness Mylène was nice and friendly. She would definitely help.

Alix went over and sat beside her, taking her pet snake off her neck and putting it down on the table to wander around freely. Mylène wasn’t afraid of it anymore, it was fine. “I need your help with something.”

“Of course!” Mylène said. “What is it?”

Now how to put this? Technically speaking, she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about Kim and Max both being stupidly head-over-heels for each other. She really hadn’t thought this through.

“I need to set someone up on the day of the Cupid Festival,” she said.

“Kim and Max?”

“Uhhh… maybe. Anyway, I don’t know what to do. I’m guessing they’ll go to that one fountain in the school grounds, you know the one, so I was thinking… I might decorate it or something? Is that a sufficiently romantic thing to do?”

“Sounds good to me!”

“Okay… so how do I do that? Put flower petals in it or something? I don’t even know where to get those from, I can’t just go picking them off flowers in the school grounds, or Mendeleiev’s gonna give me a detention…”

Mylène began writing something on a scrap of paper. “I have some ideas, but it’s going to involve getting help from some of the others too for things that aren’t my area of expertise.”

“I guess I’ll try,” Alix said, feeling her heart sinking at the prospect of having to talk to the others too. Hopefully those “diplomacy” lessons she’d been forced to attend when younger would help her now. “Oh, and by the way, how’s your kingdom doing? At the conferences in the holidays I heard there were landslides and stuff, so…”

“Not great,” Mylène said, still writing. “I wanted to stay back and help with the relief efforts, but my father told me I’d be better off at school. But things are improving.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“And thank you for asking. You and Ivan are the only ones who did.”

Really? Well… maybe most of the others didn’t know. Mylène’s kingdom was small and comparatively insignificant with many other countries.

“Here you go,” Mylène said, giving the piece of paper to Alix. “Some suggestions about who to go to for help with setting up these people who are probably Kim and Max.”

Alix looked down at the list.

-Rose and Juleka: which flowers/decorations to get -Chloé and Sabrina: nearby flower vendors -Nath: sketch out best arrangements -Ivan: tall enough to reach top of fountain -Nino: distract Kim and Max -Marinette: keep Aurore and Mireille in a good mood!

“Thanks,” she said, trying not to sound as annoyed as she felt about having to speak to all these people.

“Not a problem! Let me know if you need any more help.”

“I will.”

Alix picked up the snake and took the piece of paper with her as she left the library. Right. Rose and Juleka were first on the list – they would know what sort of flowers to use. Where would they be? Hmm, it was a Saturday morning, right? Rose worked in the gardens. She would be there. Maybe with Juleka, too. It didn’t matter, as long as one of them was around.

Sure enough, going into the school grounds, Alix spotted Rose and Juleka giggling and spilling bits of water over each other with their watering cans. It was cold out here, with their breaths swirling into mist, and the plants were mostly barren, but they didn’t care. Those two were the most romantic kids in the class. If anyone would be able to get Kim and Max together, it was those two. But then again, that wasn’t their job. It was Alix’s.

“Uh… hi,” she said, feeling awkward about interrupting them.

“Hi!” Rose said, smiling so very cheerfully at her. “What’s up?”

“I need your help with something. I’m decorating the fountain for my friends on the Cupid Festival and I don’t know which flowers and stuff to use.”

“Use black roses,” Juleka said. “They look cool. And they also symbolize death, which is even cooler.”

“Um…”

“No death? Okay, sorry. Use red roses then. They symbolize love.”

“Red roses,” Alix repeated, wishing she had a pen to write it down with. She turned to her snake. “You got that? Red roses.”

The snake nodded. Juleka stepped forwards and gave it a little stroke on the hood. “I hear this little guy won a lacrosse match in the holidays. That is so cool.”

“Actually, we lost the lacrosse match.”

“Even cooler. I want a lacrosse snake too now.”

“Carnations!” Rose said. “Those symbolize love too, which would be perfect for the Cupid Festival! Red and white carnations especially. I learnt that in my flower arrangement class back home once. Oh Juleka, I should take you there sometime, you’d love it!”

“Flowers are rad,” Juleka said.

“They are, they really are! Oh, and don’t forget red chrysanthemums. Those mean love too. Lots of flowers mean love!”

Love, sure… but what kind of love? This was why Alix always hated the Cupid Festival. Didn’t friendship count as love too? Because this was the one day of the year when apparently, it didn’t. Or was inferior to romance somehow. No one ever gave any value to the yellow friendship stickers – no, if it wasn’t a red, heart-shaped Cupid sticker then no one cared. As if friendship meant nothing.

“I don’t think they’ll care what the flowers mean as long as they look nice,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound bitter.

“In that case the roses and carnations would be the best,” Rose said. “And I’m not just suggesting the roses because of my name, I promise!”

“Thanks,” Alix said. “That’s all, I guess. Gotta go do some other stuff.”

“Already? Alright, well have fun! And I hope our suggestions were helpful!”

“Bye snake,” Juleka said, blowing a kiss at the little reptile.

Alix took another look at the piece of paper as she left those two alone to carry on flirting or whatever they were doing.

-Chloé and Sabrina: nearby flower vendors

Right, apparently these two would know exactly where to buy flowers. The market in the merchant square had grown so much over the past year (except for the quarantine period, of course) that it would be impossible for her to find what she was looking for quickly, especially since she never really went there and wouldn’t know her way around. At least Chloé and Sabrina, who were constantly shopping, would know where to get things from. And she had managed to make fairly good friends with Chloé while they were both protecting Adrien several months ago. It wouldn’t be too bad.

It took quite a while of searching and interrogating random passing nobles before she managed to track them down. Chloé was getting her hair done at the school saloon while Sabrina sat in the corner with a magazine.

“Hello, Your Majesty, would you like an appointment?” one of the staff members said as soon as she came in.

“No thanks,” Alix replied, feeling rather protective of her messy pink hair all of a sudden. “I just wanted to talk to Chloé.”

“Did I hear someone say my name?” Chloé called, turning around in her chair. “Alix! Lovely to see you! What are you doing here? Finally decided to turn that dreadful hair into something respectable?”

Ignoring that entirely, she said, “Where in the merchant square can I buy flowers?”

“Flowers? Oh, I know the best place! Why, were you thinking of giving some to someone during the Cupid Festival? Because no offence darling, but something like that would seem very fake coming from a person like you.”

“I’m not giving flowers to anyone, ew. This is for something else. So where do I get them?”

“I’m a little busy right now but Sabrina could show you on the map.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Alix went over to where Sabrina was sitting. She had already got a map of the school out of her bag and was opening it up.

“It’s here in the north-east quadrant of the merchant square,” Sabrina said, pointing at an area of the map. “You can’t miss it once you’re nearby. If you want flowers for the Cupid Festival, I would suggest going there the previous day so that they’re not out-of-stock. Don’t worry about reserving an order in advance – you’re the highest ranked student at this school, so they won’t refuse you service.”

“Thank you.”

“If I may ask – what do you need flowers for if you’re not going to give them to anyone?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Chloé said. “She’s making some sort of plan to help Kim and Max get together. You should have seen those two at the dance the other night. They’re certainly going to be a couple sooner or later.”

“I’m just gonna leave now,” Alix said quickly. How was everyone figuring it out? Maybe Kim and Max really were just that obvious. But then why didn’t they notice themselves?!

Anyway, the flowers could be ordered later once she was sure exactly how many she needed. Next up on the list: Prince Nathaniel.

Drat. She had never even spoken to him once in her life, she was sure. He went out of his way to avoid people. Would he even answer if she knocked on his door?

Well, she had to at least try. She left the saloon, went back to the dorms, then knocked on the door to his room. Surprisingly enough, he did open it.

“I need your help with something,” she said.

“Um.. okay… come in…”

He wasn’t even looking at her, he was looking at the snake and seeming slightly terrified. Was he afraid of snakes? So many people here seemed to be. In any case, she entered the room to see that it was even messier than her own, with scrunched up pieces of paper and piles of laundry everywhere.

“You know that fountain in the school grounds?” she said. “I have to decorate it for the Cupid Festival, don’t ask. The decorations are probably gonna be flowers and stuff. Mylène suggested I ask you to sketch out some possible arrangements, because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

He looked a little more at ease. “What kind of flowers?”

Alix tried to remember. “Red roses… white and red carnations… yeah, those.”

“Those flowers symbolize love. And that fountain is the one that Kim and Max always hang out at. So you’re trying to set them up.”

His voice was quiet, but his tone and words so matter-of-fact. He almost looked slightly smug.

“Whether that’s true or not is none of your business,” she said.

“So it’s true. Okay. I’ll sketch something.”

He opened up a sketchbook lying on the desk and grabbed a pencil out of many that were lying around, then he sat there and began drawing. It was honestly a marvel that he could see through his hair, considering it covered most of his face, but he really was a very good artist. Even the tiniest of lines, the quickest of sketches, managed to convey senses of details and shadows. Everyone always said that his kingdom produced the greatest artists and sculptors. But Alix had always assumed that was just a stereotype or something. Apparently in Nath’s case, it was actually true.

“You’re nervous,” he said, quiet as ever.

“What?”

“Nervous.” He was still drawing, not having even lifted his head to look at her. “Because if your friends get together, they might stop paying attention to you.”

It was like a sudden punch to the gut.

“I said it’s none of your business,” she snapped.

“Sorry, just an observation. Though for the record, I’m sure they wouldn’t stop hanging out with you just because they got together.”

For a few seconds she held her tongue, refusing to say anything, before her emotions were too strong and she gave way.

“What if they do?” she said.

“They wouldn’t. They care about you.”

Her fists were already clenched without her realizing. “Platonically. Which seems to matter to people less. And these days all they ever talk to me about is each other.”

“How does this look?” Nath said suddenly, holding up the sketchbook. There was a ring of roses around the top of the fountain, and the carnations were in bunches lower down.

“Looks nice,” Alix said.

“Good. I’ll colour it too, and then you can keep it for reference.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyway,” Nath continued, pulling a box of imported markers out of a drawer, “I get the feeling you’re worried about your friends abandoning you. I know what it’s like to not be good at making friends, or being a loner. But Kim and Max won’t abandon you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Just a gut feeling.”

Gut feelings were certainly not good enough to go on. Anyway, Nath didn’t even know anything about her. He was just some random kid in their class. None of this even mattered to him – he was probably just trying to amuse himself.

“Have a little faith in your friends,” he said. “They care about you. I can tell.”

“Why are you even talking to me about all this?”

He shrugged. “On the off-chance that I’m wrong, you’ll probably want a back-up friend to actually be there for you.”

“You… want to be my friend?”

Nath just nodded, carrying on the colouring.

“Jeez, and all this time I thought you were shy…”

“Being shy and being quiet isn’t the same thing. Though, uh, yeah. I am shy.” He lowered his head a little further towards the desk, practically hunched over his sketchbook.

“Well sure you can be my friend. But you’ve got to stop… you know… doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

How could she describe it? Somehow figuring out my inner thoughts and fears and talking about them as if they’re nothing?

“Stop acting like a therapist or something,” she said finally.

“Why? I want to help.”

“Well you can’t help, okay?! Just trust me. Cupid Festival is the worst. People are the worst. Once they get a significant other they throw everyone else away. I see it happen all the time, and I don’t want it to happen to me, because I can hardly ever make friends anyway and I can’t lose the ones I have. But I will! And I know I will! And I’ll be helping them do it, because they’re my friends, and I want them to be happy!”

“Not everyone’s like that though, you don’t know if–”

“But I do know!”

For quite a while now Alix had been refusing to think about the stupid, cursed, other timelines – especially since she was the only one of them still left at school, so it didn’t matter anyway. But now she just couldn’t help it.

“I know because it’s happened before,” she said. “Kind of. Other timelines. You know, that power thing Fu told me about, you must have heard about it by now. Because in the other timelines, in those stupid spring holidays last year, when Kim got together with m– uh, someone, he was such an obsessive hopeless romantic he didn’t care about anything or anyone else, just casting everything else aside like it didn’t even matter! And Max actually likes him back, so if they get together now they’ll just – no one else will matter to them–”

“Spring holidays, you say?” Nath’s tone hadn’t even changed at all. “That was a long time ago.”

“Less than a year, actually.”

“But so much has happened since then. Quarantine, the stuff with Adrien, Kim’s grandfather dying, all those things. If you’d have asked me last year during the spring holidays, I would have said that someone like Kim was not ready for a relationship. Even with Max. But now? He’s grown up a fair amount. Everything is different.”

Was that true? Was Kim more sensible now? And would that make a difference?

Well… maybe it would. Hopefully it would.

“So you think this time he’s going to be more sensible about things,” she said.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Okay. I’m… I’m gonna believe you. So you’d better not be wrong.”

Through his hair, she saw him smile. “I’m sure I won’t be.” Then he quickly sat up and tore the page out of the sketchbook, handing it to her. “Done!”

She took a look at it. How had he done something so detailed so fast? It really was very good.

“This is awesome,” she said. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll see you in class, I guess.”

“Yep. See you. Oh wait – one last thing! What happened in that lift?”

Seriously, did everyone know about the lift thing? And why did they care?

“I’m not telling you,” she said.

“Alright, but quick question. Was it anything stupid?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

Nath smiled again. “In that case, Kim definitely has grown up a lot since last year. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Huh, I guess you’re right.” Alix couldn’t help but smile a little too. Nath was way smarter than she had realized. Maybe being so quiet had given him ample opportunity to observe everyone until he knew them all really well. Having him as a friend would probably actually be a good idea.

And best of all, he wasn’t afraid of her. The shyest, quietest classmate, the one who never spoke to anyone at all – and he wasn’t afraid of her. Thank goodness.

Leaving the room, she took another look at Mylène’s list.

-Ivan: tall enough to reach top of fountain -Nino: distract Kim and Max -Marinette: keep Aurore and Mireille in a good mood!

Right. Those three would have to be sorted out on the day before the Cupid Festival, 13th February, as well as actually going and buying the flowers. She still had a while. At least for today, she had done a good job. Phew! Operation: Kimax was going well.

#i can't believe i'm still going with this #miraculous ladybug #le chien kim #max kante #kimax #hmm who else is in this chapter #marinette dupain cheng #alix kubdel #and Emo McTomato makes his debut finally #nathaniel kurtzberg #royalty au #random stuff #the misadventures of prince kim #aish writes

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lucier1032-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Baby, I’m Howling For You - Chapter Six

”A wise woman wishes to be no one’s enemy; a wise woman refuses to be anyone’s victim.”

-Maya Angelou

“Harry! Wait for me!”

“Come on you slowpoke! We’re going to be late!”

“You’re going too fast! Don’t leave me!”

“I’m not going to leave ya darlin!” Harry slowed to a trot, a smile reaching from ear to ear and dimples on both cheeks. His emerald green eyes sparkled in the rare London sunshine as he waited for his best friend to catch up. Pushing his newly wild coffee colored curls from his eyes, he pivoted on his heels to see the flushed brunette finally catching up to him. “You should know better by now.” His chuckles made the young girl illuminate with warmth as she joined his pace, giving the giggling boy an eye roll.

“Why does everything always have to turn into a race with you?” The two slowed to a casual walk along the pavement path, both breathing heavily.

“I like a challenge.” Harry shrugged casually as the pair walked further into the park. The two youthful teens were on their way to their first football match of the season, their identical blue and white jersey’s giving away their agenda.

“Oh, come off it, you just like to win and you know you’ll beat me every time.”

“Hey! I’m just trying to help build up your stamina so you can move up to offense this season!” Harry sent a wink in her direction before she shoved him off the path playfully.

“I don’t know if I’m going to make it past this season.” The tone of their conversation instantly turned discouraging as Ryder shoulders slumped inwards. “My dad doesn’t want me playing, thinks it takes up too much of my time.”

“What else does he think you’re going to do?”

“Couldn’t tell ya, but he’s got some kind of master plan thing he’s always fighting with my mum about. He already has Liam on some ridiculous training regimen; he’s in the gym every hour he isn’t in school. In fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t been pulled from school to follow my dad around at all hours of the day. I barely even see him anymore.”

“So…I take it he isn’t coming to the game today then?” “Nah, as usual he’s sucking up to our father.”

“Always a kiss ass that one.” Harry elbowed the girl in the shoulder spiritedly in hopes of lightening the mood. This is what Ryder loved about their friendship; Harry never pried into her home life and always offered a cheesy smile or silly face to brighten her day. Their budding friendship came so naturally; never forced and never questioned. They had formed a solid bond that you could attribute to shared crayons and peanut butter banana sandwiches. Even at eleven years old now, the two’s likes and dislikes mimicked each other, stitching their paths together for eternity.

When the friends finally reached the football pitch, Harry quickly snatched up a ball and pulled Ryder into a warmup. They joined the rest of their team on the left side of the field, casually kicking the checkered ball back and forth on the dry grass. “Speaking of your dad…” Harry began, but chose his words carefully because he knew how touchy Ryder was with the subject, “Did you ever, you know, find out what his job is?”

“Hi Haz!” A little blond girl with a bright pink backpack half the size of her stood at the edge of the field. Her lemon-yellow rain boots and butterfly hair clips sparkled in the sunlight and rivaled the smile spread across her rosy cheeks.

Harry stopped the ball and rested his foot on top of it as both he and Ryder turned towards the girl. “Hey Quinn. Just go sit over there and I’ll be over in a bit, yeah?” The tiny blond nodded encouragingly, pulling her backpack up tighter on her shoulders.

“Hi Quinn!” Ryder gave her the friendliest smile and a wave. Only to be returned with a scowl and the cold shoulder. The girl turned her back and headed towards the stands without another word. “She hates me, doesn’t she?” Ryder turned back to Harry with a head tilt and a frown.

“She’s just jealous of all the time you get to spend with me darlin.” Harry’s cheeky little grin made the brunette wish she had the ball so she could power kick it right into his stomach. “She’ll warm up to you eventually.”

“I highly doubt that.” The brunette jumped to the side to block Harry’s pass from disturbing the pair behind them. “And to answer your earlier question, no.” She kicked the ball back, quickly trying to force her dark fringe from her eyes. “Liam told me it was none of my business, mum told me not to worry about it and dad told me to stop spending time with you.”

“What?” The boy scrunched his nose in confusion. “What do I have to do with anything?”

“Probably nothing, but you’re always his go to subject change when he wants me to go away and stop pestering him.”

“I am nothing but charming! The perfect specimen of a man to bring home to parents.” Harry tossed his curls around, pretending to model across the grass.

“You’re so cocky!” Ryder hollered before kicking the ball a little too hard towards him. “I can only imagine what you’ll be like when you start dating!” The ball caught Harry on the hip, making him loose his balance and trip over his own feet.

*****

Hooooowwwwllllll

A loud noise startled Ryder awake sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through her. She took in a sharp breath, eyes darting open only to be met with the same dark room and ratty old mattress as before. There was another muffled howl on the outside of the door accompanied by loud banging. Ryder sighed to herself, rolling over onto her back but being careful not to move her chained bruised ankle much. The captive brunette was overcome with exhaustion and yet was unable to sleep.

It’s hard to sleep over the sound of your own thoughts.

The Howlers had grown accustom to waking her up with loud noises within minutes of her eyes closing. She was more physically and mentally exhausted than she had ever been in her life. Even worse than the time her father forced her to box with Bauer for over three hours.

In the early days, she tried to maintain some knowledge of time; paying close attention to how long passed between visits from Louis or small portions of food or water being delivered from one of the other Howlers. But as the minutes, hours, days ticked by it became more challenging for her to keep track. With no windows or any glimpse of daylight the time passed freely and on no schedule.

It’s hard to count the days when your buried alive.

She tried everything she could think of to gain some concept of how long she had been held captive. Ryder would pretend to sleep sometimes, hoping that she wouldn’t be woken which mean it was night and everyone else was asleep. But without fail, someone always made noise; she was being watched 24 hours a day. The woman was slowly losing all concept of time, of life outside these four walls. But then again, isn’t that what Harry wanted?

Harry had not made another visit to her after the first night. He laid down the law, pushed fear into her bones and then left her to sink in her own confusion, weighed down by her own thoughts….a dangerous thing. He withdrew himself from her life years ago, leaving the faintest of trails dancing through her shiny black waves. The man left her the good and the bad; their friendship jumping off a cliff only to be met with jagged rocks, tickles of blood filled with smiles and tears staining their clothes. Their friendship would never be remedied and that probably killed Ryder the most. Harry was no longer the boy she knew, the boy who carried her on his shoulders through childhood.

He was now the black coffee before she added the sugar. The brewing storm before she washed him clean with droplets rain. The Devil’s venom was slithering up his arms and across his stiff shoulders; its poisonous sting playing into his weakened state; tearing him apart limb by limb, bone by bone, snaking its way into his thoughts. His thirst for revenge becoming a slithering assassin, an all-consuming idea for his own retribution. One shiny bullet shot on command altered Harry’s course, leading him to the life of darkness.

Hell is empty and all the devils are here.

Ryder sought light even in her darkened room though; drawing on the memories of her closest loved ones; swimming in the feelings of happiness, the touch of passion, the sip of sweet wine and the taste of his lips. Perpetually sentimental for the embrace of tenderness and the warm sunshine hopping across her pale cheeks. She refused to play into Harry’s twisted games of revenge, refused to be a victim of the Howlers empty threats.

The woman broke her time into tiny, manageable pieces; for the whole being entirely overwhelming. As exhaustion crept further towards her she drew strength from the knowing feeling that Liam would fight for her. No matter their continued distance in the past years, she held on to the vision of her older brother, her protector, storming through the bolted door and never letting go of her again. She made promises to fulfill once this was over; to be a better sister, a better team player, to stand next to her only brother instead of across from him. Even with her distant, difficult relationship with the men in her family, she knew they would fight for her and that was the best feeling in the world.

If you were to ask what one thing Ryder drew her light from though, you would receive an instant and definite answer:

Niall.

The sunshiny blonde brought hope to her bruised and battered state. With one blink of the eye she saw his face, complete with lopsided toothy smile and glimmering baby blues that put the stars to shame. With one inhale of murky air she smelled the faint mix of laundry detergent and his cologne; as if she were resting her head against his chest in their bed. With one lick of the lips she could taste the watermelon chap stick he always insisted he didn’t like but stole from her the feeling of his soft lips pressing against her neck and across her collar bone. With one moment of deafening silence she could hear his boisterous, full bellied laugh bouncing off the cold walls. She held on to every memory of their existence together, every touch and every laugh, the luxury of having him constantly within grasp. The thought of being reunited rumbled in her chest making her heart ache for the security he provided.

Ryder shifted on the bed again, pulling herself into an upright position and closer towards the edge to allow her ankle the tiniest bit of relief. The banging and howling slowed, fading into the darkness soon after it began. Ryder rubbed her sore muscles and sleepy eyes, stretching upwards to release the tension in her neck and shoulders. It was then that her stomach rumbled, a reminder of the constant hunger that pained her. It was only a matter of time before someone brought her the standard bowl of chicken and rice and a plastic glass of water. Entering the room and leaving without a single word. Harry and the Howlers had cut off all human interaction and communication, they were isolating her even more than being held captive and chained to a bed could do on its own.

The Howler delivering her meals usually changed, Ryder noticing a pattern which meant they were taking shifts watching her. She had seen three men rotate in and out, all possessing unique body structures and tendencies. A bigger man with a permanent scowl usually thumped through the door, throwing her food on the floor and causing it to splatter everywhere. Going down in size, the next was a muscular boy without the height. He carried himself with confidence, shoulders back and head high but weighted with his unruly hair. The last was a much smaller boy, almost looking like the other two’s younger brother rather than their equal. He lurked along the walls of the room, blending into the shadows with his tiny frame and slumped shoulders. He was the most cautious of the three, placing her meal gently on the floor in front of her but never making eye contact before running out. He didn’t seem to fit the typical Howler reputation, which struck Ryder as odd.

As if on cue, the door locks began to click on the other side. Ryder sat up straighter, shoulders back and jaw tense. Four. Five. Six. The door swung open slowly, a bit of pressure released from the brunette’s body as a small figure snuck his way through a barely open door. He held one bowl and one cup in his hands as he slowly moved forward. Ryder watched his movements; his small steps carefully calculated and shaking hands as if he was almost afraid of the chained-up woman.

“What’s your name?” Ryder spoke quietly, not to startle the boy. He looked up to her for the first time, his light eyes soft. The woman let a small smile glide onto her face, an offering of peace, yet the boy remained silent. “Mine’s Ryder…but you probably already knew that.” She folded her arms in her lap as he placed the bowl on the floor in front of her. “Thank you.” She gave him a gracious head nod and he showed the smallest sign of a smile. Ryder knew he was the easiest alley to acquire in this situation. He might not have much pull when it came to the three in charge but it was a start that gave Ryder another glimmer of hope.

“Bug, out now.” A nasty snarl startled the two, sending the boy running out of the room as if he would pay for his mistake later. A breeze of cold air rushed in, sending shivers through Ryder’s exposed skin, but the coldness of the voice shocked her even more. Every muscle in her body stiffened at his shadow in the doorframe, leaning to one side like the cocky man he was now. Ryder stood her ground at the edge of the bed, refusing to cower from him. “Been a few days huh darlin.”

“Just a few, is that all?” Ryder spoke with the same cockiness he exuded. She tilted her head to the side, a clear signal that she wasn’t about to deal with his shit.

“Oh, so suddenly you’re so tough?” Harry moved further into the room, pushing the door so that only a small crack of light shone through it. “Trying to be little miss badass?” He moved through the room, tapping at one of the lightbulbs and sending it swinging back and forth. The light cast shadows across his face as it swung, only giving Ryder more of a reason to stand her ground. His scare tactics were not going to work on her anymore. “You really think you’re going to win this one?”

“I’m sure as hell not going to let you win.” She spit in his direction. “I know this isn’t the real Haz, I know he would never really hurt me.” She tried to play their friendship again, fingers crossed that even an ounce of her old friend still lived. “You can talk the talk but it’s all just empty threats.” Harry stopped in the middle of the room, chest tight and hands balled into fists.

“You think so?”

“My Haz is still in there somewhere and I know he would never, never intentionally hurt me.”

“You don’t think this is hurting you? Chaining you to a bed, leaving you alone for days on end? Slowly tearing away every layer until you’re an empty blank space with nothing left to offer? No emotions, no memories. You don’t realize that I win no matter how this plays out.” Harry’s tone growled with confidence as Ryder stayed quiet. “I’m going to tear you down; break you into so many pieces that you’ll never be able to be whole again.” He took three steps forward. “I’m sending you back to your brother in a hand me down box, an empty shell of a person. See, he’ll never get the closure of visiting your grave; the pain ever so slowly fading with each passing day. No, he’s going to have to look at the face of his sister, to live with the torture every single day; to be reminded of what he did.” The woman couldn’t help the tears stinging her tormented eyes, the lump building in her throat.

“And that boyfriend of yours? You can say goodbye to him.” Harry came closer and closer until he was towering over her, their knees bumping into each other. “Because, let’s be honest here…” He let out wicked laugh, “who’s going to want to stay with someone so damaged? Someone who can barely feed themselves or even take a piss alone. Who’s going to want that responsibility? Who’s going to dread waking up every morning only to have to care for you? You’re going to be left with nothing.” The tears fell freely down Ryder’s dirty cheeks, Harry’s words slicing through her like razor blades. The thought of Liam having to see her shattered porcelain face every day, or of Niall leaving her in search of a new happiness were more hurtful than any physical pain Harry could cause. “But if you don’t think any of that is hurting you, then maybe we should try a different approach.

Ryder didn’t even have time to look up before Harry was pouncing on her and pushing her weak frame up against the wall. A shriek of pain rocketed from her mouth as her ankle pulled at the restraint; the air being stolen from her lungs due to Harry’s sheer force. He braced himself on his knees, using his thighs to hold the girl’s legs still. Ryder gripped at a veiny arm connected to the strong hand that was wrapped around her neck. Harry pressed further into her windpipe as wheezes and gasp for air filled the room. Ryder’s chest grew tight, fighting through the most basic of instincts to breathe. The man’s eyes filled with animalistic hunger when he used his free hand to grab at the collar of Ryder’s filthy shirt. He released her neck but not before slamming he head against the concrete wall.

Ryder scrambled for air, eyes mechanically closing due to the agony of pain throbbing in her head. Harry used her moment of weakness to rip her shirt down the middle, exposing her black lace bra a bruised belly. Ryder was quickly aware of her now exposed skin, her hands hastily pushing against Harry’s chest, trying to create space between them. This only made Harry push further into her. He gripped both her wrists with such force she could have sworn she heard a bone crack.

“STOP! PLEASE! STOP!” Ryder screamed and pleaded, but Harry’s eyes were as black as night; he was gone. “HAZ!” The raw screams only attracted the man to her more, she was now his pray; a true wolf at heart. “NOOO!” He slid her back against the wall until she was pressed into the mattress once again. Harry dominated over her, in both physical strength and mental. “Haz.” She wept a continuous stream of fresh tears.

There was a small moment of stillness between the two, as if for a split second the true Harry had come back. He stilled on top of her, loosening his grip just enough to still maintain control. Ryder’s chest heaved with sobs as she looked up to his olive-green eyes. The brunette froze under him, unsure if what was happening. Harry let go of one of her wrists and the girl surprisingly stayed still. A soft and gentle hand ran across her tear-stricken face, his thumb brushing away a fallen tear. It was almost as if he cared for her again; as if he was trying to comfort her. “Haz.” She whispered, which was a bad idea.

The man snapped, his body stiffening and eyes fading into black. Ryder started to squirm and fight, kicking her legs in every direction but he held tight to her with such malice. He pinned her arm between his knee and her thigh, limiting her movements and allowing his free hand to explore her stomach. Never in a million years would Ryder imagine being in this situation. For one, being held captive and taken advantage of was not the ideal situation for anyone and caused enough PTSD for a lifetime. But here Ryder was, not only being held against her will but being tortured but her once friend now turned foe.

“This is only step one darlin.” Harry gave her a deadly smirk, his touch leaving her bare skin to reach around to his back pocket. Ryder went rigid beneath him, preparing for the worst, but when his hand came back into view her eyes went wide with fear. With the swift flick of the wrist, a visible silver blade caught the dim light. Ryder fought with all the strength she had left as Harry drew the knife closer in towards her bare stomach, making contact right above her left hipbone.

Shrills of pain seeped out of the room and into the hallway, filling the basement with such agony. The remaining Howlers were on the edge of their seats, such discomfort and apprehension swirling in their glasses of alcohol. The screams only worsened as Louis poured himself another drink. Zayn looked up to his best friend with such hopelessness. It was in both of their personalities to run to the aid of damsel in distress but Harry had forged such a rock between the Howlers in the last few days that they both stayed seated and silent. Their friendship being tested repeatedly at Harry’s show of dominance. Louis still withheld secrets from his best friend, but to keep Harry from going over the edge it was about time they had a heart to heart

#one direction #fanfiction #Harry Styles #Niall Horan #liam payne #louis tomlinson #Zayn Malik #1dff #1d fanfic #LRW1032

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