I can't stop thinking about you
Title: Can't Stop
Part: 1/?
Pairing:Loki/Naoya. Yes, I know, stfu.
Prompt: N/A
Rating: PG-15. Probably.
Words:1,242
Warnings:Blood! And Loki is a pedo. And a stalker.
A/N:This is Numnum's fault somehow. Also, there's gonna be more of this. Yes. Also written to Maroon 5 songs, because Naoya hates them all. :3<
One.
You meet him for the first time not long after you learn to slip your bonds, to take on a new body and be free of the chains that bind you. Not enough believe anymore, and the world is changing, and Ragnarok itself may have changed form, but none of it matters.
You are free, and your first act is to find a place to get a stiff drink.
The place is dingy, out of the way-at that time, you hadn’t heard of a human cursed to always remember, because you had been trapped for too long. It’s a brewery, low on the banks of the Tiber, and you have come this far south by following that river, looking for something to do.
Something, or someone. Athens is still growing, still awakening to it’s own power and still, it seems, has yet to figure out how to make decent beer. You sigh, and decide to survey the scenery, and what scenery it is. It’s the hair that catches your eye first-this boy is so obviously young, but his hair is white as the northern snow, pulled back harshly to keep it out of his face. And what a face it is, well shaped but sharp, and…completely bored.
Who are you to resist that? You had wandered over, and see a flicker of…recognition? In eyes that are much older than the face they belong to. The riddle you give him isn’t easy, and he answers without hesitation. That’s how it begins, and it lasts all night, until finally…
Finally, he wins. You’re surprised by it long enough for him to leave, and you catch him, demanding to know his name.
That boy smiles, knife-sharp, and you remember rumors you’ve heard, of a man cursed by Yahweh.
“Cain.”
Two.
You watch him for a few centuries, trying to track his reincarnations but it’s difficult. Cain seems determined to slip under the radar, to not be noticed, to-plan. You see it, quite a few times; tragedy befalling him, another blow, another slap in his face before he vanishes again, or dies. You watch as those eyes start to burn with a deeper and deeper hatred.
You are there the last time he ever cries, and it is not how you expected to speak to him again. He kneels there, over the broken bodies of what family he’d had, killed by the Danes-by Odin’s followers, and he had cried out, in rage and anguish and sorrow, cried out old words to an old ritual and you had been the one who heard it, who answered. You know he recognizes you, this pale, thin boy not even yet a man, and he’s fast, fingers lashing out and tightening around your throat.
You’re not afraid of him, but you know he’s nothing to be trifled with, and so you decide to listen as his words echo with command, his voice laced with barely-concealed grief and hatred.
“Swear yourself to me. Swear you’ll help me destroy the God that did this to me.”
And you, who have never liked the law harshly imposed by Yahweh, who have seen His ever-growing threats to free will (and you’ve always thought free will was a wonderous things, humans come up with so much trouble), nod, a slow smile curving over your lips as you lean down to kiss him, tasting the blood on his lips.
“I give you my word.”
Three.
At some point, you figure Cain had begun to regret that contract. After all, even if it didn’t bind you constantly to his side…well, Cain was more interesting than most people you ran into, even if he did have an unfortunate tendency to get mistaken as a witch. This time it’s a taverna in Greece, not so long at all after Bel had been shattered. Cain had elected to get piss drunk, and you had no arguments with that particular sentiment.
It was the god who was visiting that taverna that proved to be the problem, having, well, taken a shining to Cain. Zeus always was that much of a slut, and while you’d never been one to argue with open relationships or multiple partners…you really don’t like Zeus.
It’s as though Thor and Odin had some horrifying bastard child. And they called your children abominations?
Zeus had not taken kindly to being told to shove off, and Cain hadn’t much liked being claimed. And the barkeep hadn’t liked the place being nearly leveled, but who was he to protest against gods?
Cain had told him, after you’d managed to track him down again, that he belonged to no one. You’d stared at him then, with his hair lit up by the Moon’s full glory, and you had to smile.
I’ll change that.
Four.
You don’t quite remember when Cain started dabbling in politics. Perhaps it had been in China-or perhaps that had been where he learned. You do know that his time in Emperor Kammu’s courts had been…practice. He’d spent all the time he’d not been studying old, arcane texts…learning the social game, gaining the power and access to that same text. You watched him, and you saw his eyes start to harden, to glow with the light of a plan.
He spends several lifetimes in Japan, only to die in the course of the Sengoku period…and be reborn back in Italy. Minor nobility, and comfortable…and out of the way, when a young man named Cesare Borgia was born.
You see Cain suddenly smile at news of the boy, see him quietly arrange to meet him, and he is not the only one with his eyes on him. You see the aura around him and you know what it means, and you are there-albeit as a serving wench-when Cain meets the young boy and begins putting his new skills.
“Are you going to settle just for this, Cesare? To be hidden away and never acknowledged because of your own father’s greed?”
You see the boy hesitate, see Cain toy with his open wounds, and you know the man has this child in his sway already.
“But, Niccolo-“
“Trust me. You were meant to be more than this-become the king you’re meant to be, Cesare…the king your namesake gives you.”
You watch, as Cesare’s machinations, guided by Cain’s own hand, rip apart his family, and unify Italy…only to crumble again. Cain had written a book during that time, that he never showed you then-you would read about the Prince he criticized much later, and laugh and laugh and laugh. An elaborate joke that no one really got. It’s just like him, honestly.
You track him down as the Borgia kingdom crumbles, finding he’d merely used the bloodshed to summon again. You don’t like Mephistopheles, and chase the Wishgranter off, but Decarabia…well, you think it’s a little cute, how gentle cold, ruthless Cain is with demons.
“How long are you going to make me wait, ‘Niccolo’?” He stares at you blandly, and snorts.
“Make you wait? You pillage whenever it pleases you--“
“That’s not what I mean.” You step forward, and once again it’s a full moon, and so you can see the flicker of uncertainty on his face.
“When are you going to ask for what you want?” Cain stiffens, eyes narrowing, but he doesn’t answer…merely snaps his book shut on your nose before stalking away.
You have to laugh. Well, you’re not going to give up that easily.
Cookie?
Part: 1/?
Pairing:Loki/Naoya. Yes, I know, stfu.
Prompt: N/A
Rating: PG-15. Probably.
Words:1,242
Warnings:Blood! And Loki is a pedo. And a stalker.
A/N:This is Numnum's fault somehow. Also, there's gonna be more of this. Yes. Also written to Maroon 5 songs, because Naoya hates them all. :3<
One.
You meet him for the first time not long after you learn to slip your bonds, to take on a new body and be free of the chains that bind you. Not enough believe anymore, and the world is changing, and Ragnarok itself may have changed form, but none of it matters.
You are free, and your first act is to find a place to get a stiff drink.
The place is dingy, out of the way-at that time, you hadn’t heard of a human cursed to always remember, because you had been trapped for too long. It’s a brewery, low on the banks of the Tiber, and you have come this far south by following that river, looking for something to do.
Something, or someone. Athens is still growing, still awakening to it’s own power and still, it seems, has yet to figure out how to make decent beer. You sigh, and decide to survey the scenery, and what scenery it is. It’s the hair that catches your eye first-this boy is so obviously young, but his hair is white as the northern snow, pulled back harshly to keep it out of his face. And what a face it is, well shaped but sharp, and…completely bored.
Who are you to resist that? You had wandered over, and see a flicker of…recognition? In eyes that are much older than the face they belong to. The riddle you give him isn’t easy, and he answers without hesitation. That’s how it begins, and it lasts all night, until finally…
Finally, he wins. You’re surprised by it long enough for him to leave, and you catch him, demanding to know his name.
That boy smiles, knife-sharp, and you remember rumors you’ve heard, of a man cursed by Yahweh.
“Cain.”
Two.
You watch him for a few centuries, trying to track his reincarnations but it’s difficult. Cain seems determined to slip under the radar, to not be noticed, to-plan. You see it, quite a few times; tragedy befalling him, another blow, another slap in his face before he vanishes again, or dies. You watch as those eyes start to burn with a deeper and deeper hatred.
You are there the last time he ever cries, and it is not how you expected to speak to him again. He kneels there, over the broken bodies of what family he’d had, killed by the Danes-by Odin’s followers, and he had cried out, in rage and anguish and sorrow, cried out old words to an old ritual and you had been the one who heard it, who answered. You know he recognizes you, this pale, thin boy not even yet a man, and he’s fast, fingers lashing out and tightening around your throat.
You’re not afraid of him, but you know he’s nothing to be trifled with, and so you decide to listen as his words echo with command, his voice laced with barely-concealed grief and hatred.
“Swear yourself to me. Swear you’ll help me destroy the God that did this to me.”
And you, who have never liked the law harshly imposed by Yahweh, who have seen His ever-growing threats to free will (and you’ve always thought free will was a wonderous things, humans come up with so much trouble), nod, a slow smile curving over your lips as you lean down to kiss him, tasting the blood on his lips.
“I give you my word.”
Three.
At some point, you figure Cain had begun to regret that contract. After all, even if it didn’t bind you constantly to his side…well, Cain was more interesting than most people you ran into, even if he did have an unfortunate tendency to get mistaken as a witch. This time it’s a taverna in Greece, not so long at all after Bel had been shattered. Cain had elected to get piss drunk, and you had no arguments with that particular sentiment.
It was the god who was visiting that taverna that proved to be the problem, having, well, taken a shining to Cain. Zeus always was that much of a slut, and while you’d never been one to argue with open relationships or multiple partners…you really don’t like Zeus.
It’s as though Thor and Odin had some horrifying bastard child. And they called your children abominations?
Zeus had not taken kindly to being told to shove off, and Cain hadn’t much liked being claimed. And the barkeep hadn’t liked the place being nearly leveled, but who was he to protest against gods?
Cain had told him, after you’d managed to track him down again, that he belonged to no one. You’d stared at him then, with his hair lit up by the Moon’s full glory, and you had to smile.
I’ll change that.
Four.
You don’t quite remember when Cain started dabbling in politics. Perhaps it had been in China-or perhaps that had been where he learned. You do know that his time in Emperor Kammu’s courts had been…practice. He’d spent all the time he’d not been studying old, arcane texts…learning the social game, gaining the power and access to that same text. You watched him, and you saw his eyes start to harden, to glow with the light of a plan.
He spends several lifetimes in Japan, only to die in the course of the Sengoku period…and be reborn back in Italy. Minor nobility, and comfortable…and out of the way, when a young man named Cesare Borgia was born.
You see Cain suddenly smile at news of the boy, see him quietly arrange to meet him, and he is not the only one with his eyes on him. You see the aura around him and you know what it means, and you are there-albeit as a serving wench-when Cain meets the young boy and begins putting his new skills.
“Are you going to settle just for this, Cesare? To be hidden away and never acknowledged because of your own father’s greed?”
You see the boy hesitate, see Cain toy with his open wounds, and you know the man has this child in his sway already.
“But, Niccolo-“
“Trust me. You were meant to be more than this-become the king you’re meant to be, Cesare…the king your namesake gives you.”
You watch, as Cesare’s machinations, guided by Cain’s own hand, rip apart his family, and unify Italy…only to crumble again. Cain had written a book during that time, that he never showed you then-you would read about the Prince he criticized much later, and laugh and laugh and laugh. An elaborate joke that no one really got. It’s just like him, honestly.
You track him down as the Borgia kingdom crumbles, finding he’d merely used the bloodshed to summon again. You don’t like Mephistopheles, and chase the Wishgranter off, but Decarabia…well, you think it’s a little cute, how gentle cold, ruthless Cain is with demons.
“How long are you going to make me wait, ‘Niccolo’?” He stares at you blandly, and snorts.
“Make you wait? You pillage whenever it pleases you--“
“That’s not what I mean.” You step forward, and once again it’s a full moon, and so you can see the flicker of uncertainty on his face.
“When are you going to ask for what you want?” Cain stiffens, eyes narrowing, but he doesn’t answer…merely snaps his book shut on your nose before stalking away.
You have to laugh. Well, you’re not going to give up that easily.
Cookie?