Cadet life was tough for you. But he was always there.
Cadet S1 timeline, they grew up in the same area its just not mentioned.
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you’ve only been in the corps for a few months, still trying to find your footing during training. the walls feel higher, the maneuvers faster, and the weight of everyone’s expectations heavier. the new cadets have made it obvious—they think you’re “too soft,” too cautious, too… different.
it starts small. whispers during drills, sidelong glances that linger too long, comments tossed just loud enough for you to hear.
“hey, don’t let her near the wall,” one sneers during a formation exercise. “she’ll get herself killed.”
you feel the heat rise in your cheeks and grip your ODM gear a little tighter. you want to say something, to snap back, but before you can even take a step, jean is beside you.
he doesn’t shout. he doesn’t make a scene. his presence alone is enough. his eyes sharp, unwavering lock onto the cadet who made the comment.
“back off,” he says, voice low but firm, each word deliberate. it carries the weight of authority, tempered with something softer, something that makes you feel safe without even needing to acknowledge it. the cadet stumbles, mutters an excuse, and scurries off.
“jean, it’s fine—” you begin, but he interrupts with a hand brushing yours as he gently steers you a few steps back, his fingers lingering just enough to remind you he’s there.
“no, it’s not fine,” he mutters, tone almost under his breath. “don’t let anyone talk to you like that. not here, not ever.”
you glance up at him, caught between gratitude and something heavier—something warm that tugs at your chest. it’s not just protection. it’s attention, vigilance, and an unspoken promise.
throughout the day, you notice him. lingering near your training station, subtle adjustments to ensure you’re safe during complex maneuvers with your ODM gear, small gestures—a pat on the shoulder, a quiet nod—that make you feel seen in a way the others rarely do.
later, after the cadets have dispersed, you’re walking through the courtyard alone when you sense him behind you. he falls into step without saying anything at first, arms crossed loosely, eyes scanning for any threat—or maybe just watching you.
finally, he speaks. “don’t get used to it,” he says, smirk tugging at his lips, but the tension in his voice betrays how seriously he means it. “but I won’t let anyone mess with you either.”
you pause, looking up at him, caught between embarrassment and the strange, fluttering relief that someone actually has your back in this world that feels so unforgiving.
“thanks,” you whisper, and it’s barely audible, but he hears. he always hears.
jean doesn’t answer immediately, just keeps walking beside you, a silent guardian in the middle of the chaotic courtyard. and as the sun dips low, casting long shadows across the walls, you realize something simple, undeniable, and quietly profound: in a world full of danger and doubt, there’s someone watching over you.
Before Diluc's self-imposed expedition; he, Kaeya, and Jean used to be as close of a trio as any. They always trained together, ate together, and spent as much time together as possible.
After Diluc and Kaeya's falling out, she focused more on a traumatized and grieving Kaeya who didn't know how to use his new Vision and had just lost his family for the second time. By the time Diluc returned, Jean had helped Kaeya grow into the confident man he is in the game and their friendship is all the stronger for it.
While things remained tense between Kaeya and Diluc, Jean decided to take the role of mediator and keeping the two of them in line. She calls either one out if she feels they've gone too far.
She wishes things could go back to how they used to be.
Okay, so I think I’m going with ‘the real thing’ for a title. Subject to change of course. But as I sorta promised, more andreil soulmate not fic. Same warnings as before (mention of past abuse, referenced but not described/detailed sexual abuse, Andrew on meds so...).
Part four (previous part w/ links to the OTHER parts can be found here)
*******
Andrew was about to murder his new bestie; it had been three days since Moreau had all but promised to spill secrets, and if Andrew had to wait much longer? The backliner would be spilling blood instead.
Yes, among his various character foibles (he refused to see them as flaws, not matter what the shrinks rudely insisted) was his very low tolerance for patience when he felt that he was owed something. And he most definitely felt he was owed the truth about what was going on with Nathaniel.
Perhaps Moreau sensed his imminent bloodletting because he muttered ‘tomorrow’ to Andrew as they passed each other in the hall on Tuesday, which granted him a temporary stay of execution. Andrew grunted softly in acknowledgement, then knocked his shoulder into Bautista, who’d been staring a bit too long at Nathaniel.
The backliner glared at Andrew once he regained his footing, but all it took was Andrew ‘smiling’ at him and the older Raven averted his eyes and scurried away.
People were slowly getting the message that Nathaniel was off-limits.
Wednesday came and at first started off as a normal day; early as hell practice, Aaron being smug about getting a good grade on their biology test (Andrew kept his better grade to himself), barely staying awake in his classes, then back to the Nest for more stupid Exy practice. Except Riko and Kevin were gone, off to Detroit to play the next two nights for their professional team (who could keep them), which meant that Andrew just had to wait for Nathaniel to be pulled away, too. He gave Moreau a pointed look when they (and Nathaniel) went out onto court to play in a scrimmage, but the French bastard merely returned it with a blank expression.
Andrew may have aimed a ball or two at the bastard during the scrimmage.
He’d just settled on his bed with a new book to read (sent by Nicky) when his phone vibrated with a message from Moreau for him to come right then to the break room in the Black Hall. Part of Andrew wanted to ignore the summons, but his desire to find out the truth won out over his ornery nature so he got up and left his room without saying a word to his partner (not that Ben acted surprised at all to see him leave). There were a few Ravens out in the hallways, but none brave enough to question him, especially when he headed in the direction of the Black Hall.
Very few went there unless invited to by one of the ‘perfect court’; people would assume it was just him getting away from Ben and raiding the ‘good’ break room again while Riko was gone.
Like he wouldn’t raid the break room while Riko was standing in the middle of it.
Moreau was waiting for him with a mug of coffee in hand. “Nat should be busy for a couple hours at least,” he said by way of greeting.
Andrew went to fix coffee for himself. “Translating stuff.” That’s what Moreau had told him the other day. “He do that a lot?”
“Somewhat. He’ll be called up to the East Tower during games to translate for some of the guests up there, or to work on documents for Tetsuji or Kengo.”
“Kengo, Tetsuji’s brother and Riko’s father.” Andrew knew a few things.
“Yes, Tetsuji’s brother.” Moreau gave him a considering look then focused his attention on the door of the break room as if to ensure that no one was out in the hall. “Are you sure you want to-“
“Tetsuji’s brother,” Andrew said to urge Frenchie on. “Tell me about the man, everything.”
Moreau gave him an intent look as if judging how serious he was about things (about Nathaniel) before he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he resumed speaking. “The truth of the matter is, the Moriyamas came into their wealth by being crime lords – yakuza. Kengo is the current head of the organization and his oldest son, Ichirou, will take over when he dies.”
Well, that somewhat explained how Tetsuji could be such an abusive bastard and Riko treat people like belongings; they clearly believed themselves to be above the law. “So Tetsuji and Riko do whatever they like because they’re mobsters?”
Moreau wrinkled his nose, which had been broken at one point and not properly set, as he sipped his drink. “Not… exactly. Kengo and Ichirou are part of the main branch, the line that inherits the wealth and responsibility of the Moriyamas. Kengo, as the Moriyama lord, was to only have one son, one heir, but his wife bore two.” His expression grew guarded as he glanced at Andrew for a moment. “She died for that mistake, and Riko was disinherited, was given to Tetsuji to be raised as part of the side branch.”
“Funny, but I always believed it takes two to tango.” When Moreau merely shrugged at the comment, Andrew clicked his tongue. “So Riko has no real power?”
“Not… exactly,” Moreau repeated, and glared when Andrew threw a crumpled napkin at him. “Asshole.”
“Tell me something new,” Andrew said with a wide grin. “Oh, wait, that’s what you’re supposed to be doing right now.”
Moreau muttered in French something while he tugged on his long bangs then sighed. “Riko is still a Moriyama, which means he has money and connections, but has nowhere near the power he’d have if he was part of the main branch.”
It sounded as if someone, a certain spoiled, psychotic brat, might have to answer to his ‘betters’. “And where does Nathaniel fit into all of this?”
It was quiet for about a minute as Moreau stared into his mug then huffed. “The same as I do, more or less. We were sold to the Moriyamas by our fathers.” He looked up at Andrew, who stood there… mentally prodding at that bit of information. “No comment?”
“How the hell do you ‘sell’ someone?” He knew the logistics, but somehow it didn’t seem to fit when one applied it to Exy players.
“Well, in my case, my parents owed a debt to the Moriyamas and decided that it was best paid off by offering me to Tetsuji since I knew how to play Exy.” Oh no, Frenchie didn’t sound bitter about that at all. “In Nat’s case… his father is in charge of a large amount of territory on the northeastern coast and reports to Kengo. For some reason, Nat can’t take over from the man, so he was given to Tetsuji.”
“Nathan Wesninski,” Andrew said as he remembered the redhead with the soulless eyes, the businessman with all the ‘interesting’ rumors.
Moreau nodded in a grave manner. “Yes, Nathan Wesninski, the Butcher of Baltimore. He comes here now and then to deal with people who’ve run afoul of Kengo, and often he reminds Nat to ‘behave’.” He shuddered as he rubbed his right hand along his upper left back. “If you think Riko or Tetsuji is abusive, they have nothing on Nathan. He’s responsible for most of Nat’s scars.”
Most, but not all.
Andrew thought about what he’d been told, about someone thinking they owned his soulmate, that they could abuse him with impunity, and ‘smiled’. “No one owns Nathaniel.”
“Including you?” Moreau dared to ask as he set the mug aside, his expression blank as his obnoxiously tall body coiled with tension, coiled as if ready to launch itself at Andrew.
Andrew clicked his tongue at that bit of nonsense. “Did I stutter?” he asked, each word enunciated slowly. “No. One. Owns. Nathaniel. Do I need to learn sign language or that mumbled slurring you call French so you’ll understand better?”
“I don’t want to hear that from someone who grunts out German,” Moreau snapped, as if he couldn’t think of anything more offensive, but he’d relaxed against the counter.
Whatever. If Andrew was a lesser person, he’d be rolling his eyes right then instead of shoving the good granola bars, packets of honey (it was some type of sugar), and energy drinks into the pockets of his hoodie and track pants. “Anything else I need to know? Moriyamas are mobsters and bad, Nathaniel’s father is a serial killer and really bad, and Riko is under the mistaken belief he owns the two of you.”
There was a brief muttering of French again before Moreau shook his head. “That’s it. But be aware that since Riko feels he owns Nat, he probably believes that extends to you.” He rubbed the soul mark hidden beneath the sleeve of his black hoodie, his expression neutral but grey eyes bleak.
Oh, just let Riko try to put a leash on him and lead him around, Andrew would wrap it around the prick’s neck and strangle him with it. He was about to leave the room when something occurred to him. “Does Riko only give Nathaniel out for ‘rewards’?”
He knew the answer as soon as Moreau’s expression shut down, as the backliner wrapped his arms around himself as if to shield himself from someone. “Why do you care?”
Andrew could say because Moreau was Nathaniel’s partner and as much as it galled him, Nathaniel cared about the French bastard. He could say that he knew what it felt like to have unwanted hands and mouths and worse on him, to be used without a care (except he wouldn’t, not to someone he barely trusted). He could say because he needed to know exactly how bad it was with Riko’s power games.
Yet all he did was give the backliner a two-fingered salute before he walked away, well aware that he wouldn’t answer if asked a similar question.
Ben gave him an expectant look when he returned to their room, so Andrew threw him an energy drink and granola bar which his partner caught with a wide grin.
Nathaniel appeared tired during practice on Thursday, but didn’t move as if he’d been injured in any manner. He smiled at Moreau as usual and talked to a few of the Ravens (the ones who didn’t look at him as if he was a piece of meat), and gave Andrew a puzzled look now and then as if he was trying to figure him out.
Good luck with that.
Friday, Aaron bumped into Andrew as they left Biology class and muttered ‘don’t lose, I’ve bet a bundle on you’ on his way out the door, which made Andrew want to lose the game on purpose until he remembered Nathaniel. Nathaniel, who sat in the seat in front of him on the bus as they traveled to WVU for their latest game. Nathaniel, who peaked over the seat to frown at him. “That… doesn’t look like an English assignment book to me.” He motioned to the current wolf shifter ‘romance’ novel Andrew was reading as a diversion.
“It’s not.”
“Okay.” Nathaniel went a whole fifteen seconds (nibbling on his full bottom lip the entire time, which did nothing to Andrew to watch, nothing). “What does ‘omega’ mean?”
Oh no, Andrew wasn’t having an A/B/O discussion with his soul mate on a crowded bus. No. “Going to cheer us on as we defeat the Mountaineers?”
Nathaniel frowned as he ran his long, slender fingers (which Andrew didn’t think about at all, about them on his- he didn’t think of them AT ALL) along the top of the seat. “I wish the Master would have let me play this year, I’m more than ready. And you shouldn’t have a problem tonight, they’re weak on their offense, they act tough but they crumble if you don’t back down in four seconds.”
Andrew listened as his soulmate went over a concise review of the Mountaineers that was better than what he’d suffered through in the past week, mindful to pay attention to the few players Nathaniel singled out. When his soulmate finished up his summary of the other team, Andrew gave him a solemn nod and a quiet ‘thank you’, which made Nathaniel blink at him and a slight blush spread across his sharp cheekbones before he muttered something and ducked back down in his seat.
That allowed Andrew to finish his wolf shifter book (light on the plot, which was why he liked the books – he could finish them in a few hours without much brain cells involved and have a bit of twisted amusement over its ridiculousness).
At least it wasn’t a long drive to WVU, a campus known for its partying which somehow, Andrew doubted the Ravens would be allowed to join in; Tetsuji made sure to segregate the team from the rest of the university as soon as they arrived and set them up to practice on the court once they were in uniform.
Someone had no sense of adventure.
At least he got to watch Nathaniel stretch with the rest of the team (he was still trying to figure out if it was a good or bad thing that his soulmate was so damn flexible) and do drills before he retreated to the sidelines. That was around when Riko and Kevin came back from dealing with the press, and Riko made sure to hold up two fingers to Andrew as he walked past.
Such a shame Andrew didn’t have anything sharp in hand at the moment to shove into the bastard’s throat.
What he did have was a growing clarity as the drug-fueled mania slowly faded away (yet how odd, the urge to kill Riko still remained); he watched the first half of the game against the Mountaineers all too aware of Nathaniel sitting next to him on the bench, lean body twitching each time the Ravens scored a goal or lost possession of the ball. Nathaniel smiled, slight but pleased, whenever Moreau successfully blocked a Mountaineer, and glared when his partner took a rough hit.
He nearly jumped in his seat when Andrew cleared his throat. “Yeah, weak in offense.”
Nathaniel turned toward him, a slight frown on his face, and for a moment Andrew thought he wouldn’t speak. “Most of them. Peters’ being rougher than usual tonight.”
He was the one trying to take down Moreau. “Cheng’s trying to fake out Ivanova into thinking he’s shooting for the top of the goal then going lower.” The striker had done that twice so far, and gotten past the goalie once.
That slight smile appeared once more on Nathaniel’s lovely face (not that Andrew had any real opinion on how the redhead looked or anything). “You noticed that?”
Andrew clicked his tongue and forced his attention back onto the game. “I just spend my time in a painted box waiting for people to throw balls in my direction. Not like I do any real work out there.”
“Of course,” Nathaniel murmured, but he sounded amused for some reason.
The first quarter ended, which meant that Moreau was swapped out for Federov, which also meant that Nathaniel took to speaking quietly with his partner in Japanese until halftime.
Perhaps it was the lack of drugs in his system, perhaps it was knowing that Moreau was concerned about his own soulmate (the fear of Riko finding out who he was), but as he glanced at the two backliners out of the corner of his eye… there was evident affection between them and long familiarity, but nothing to suggest they were in a relationship themselves. There weren’t any lingering touches or glances, nothing intimate or possessive between them.
Yet Andrew still felt a ridiculous urge (which he ignored) to shove Moreau off the bench.
It was almost welcome to be out on the court for the second half of the game, to be away from Nathaniel and the traitorous emotions the bond between them awoke in Andrew. In the goal, his world focused down to the idiots trying to get past him to score a point, which he refused to allow.
(He knew he couldn’t keep shutting down the goal for the rest of the season, but WVU wasn’t much of a challenge.)
Moreau gave him a nod in acknowledgement when the teams lined up at the end of the game, while there was a look of relief on Nathaniel’s face before he schooled it into a blank expression when the Ravens gathered in the locker room for Tetsuji to give them a gruff ‘you did a decent job today’.
Riko caught Andrew on the way to the bus, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes as he blocked Andrew from exiting the stadium. “Impressive job out there tonight. Perhaps there’s something to letting you play… natural.”
“Only so much at a time,” Andrew said as he smiled, his expression exaggerated once again since he’d taken a pill after the game; it wasn’t that long of a drive back to Edgar Allan, but long enough that he’d be experiencing withdrawals by the time they reached campus so he’d went ahead and taken it.
He’d have to wait until next week to have time with Nathaniel as ‘himself’.
Yet the urge to protect Nathaniel as they went to his soul mate’s room, to make Federov and Bautista and the other Ravens who stared at the redhead in a hungry manner glance away in fear was still there, as well as some tremulous emotion when Nathaniel didn’t insult him or run away but walked beside him.
There were a fresh set of sheets on Moreau’s bed when he entered the room.
“Try not to snore so much this time,” Nathaniel said, a half-hearted sneer on his face as he dropped onto his bed.
Andrew gasped as he clutched his hands to his chest. “I have never been so slandered in my life. Never.”
Nathaniel scoffed as he rubbed at his eyes as if he was tired. “Right, that’s the worst you’ve ever heard. Such a sheltered life you’ve led.” Then he dropped his hands and had the grace to look guilty. “Uhm, I mean… that didn’t come out right.”
The press had delighted in going on about his stint in juvie, him being in the foster system and of course him being arrested for beating up the assholes who’d hurt Nicky, not that he’d cared at all. “I know not what you mean, I’m just an innocent babe alone in this wicked, cruel world.” He tried to bat his eyes but wasn’t sure it worked well with the manic grin.
Nathaniel gazed at him for several seconds before he sighed and stood up. “I didn’t see you take a hit to the head earlier so I think it’s okay for you to go sleep,” he mumbled as he went into the bathroom to get ready for bed.
Andrew gasped again. “You care for me! You truly do care!” His lips twitched when his ‘dear’ soulmate gave him the finger before the bathroom door slammed shut.
At the very least, someone didn’t quite hate him as much anymore. Who knew, maybe by the time he graduated, Nathaniel might even trust him.
He blamed the drugs for the feeling of warmth in his chest at that thought.
*******
IDK, still working through some things, but lately it’s been... if I post is that a sad cry for attention? Am I being annoying? Maybe I shouldn’t post stuff... but I said I’d post this.
*sighs*
Anyway, back to writing the other fic. Hope everyone is staying safe.
Kaeya groaned in pain as he rolled onto his side as his ribs shifted uncomfortably in his chest. He could barely fight back the nausea as his stomach rolled. That boss really hadn’t been joking when they said that he would regret trying to escape. His head was pounding and he could feel the bruises sting as they marked his skin.
It had been a long time since he was beaten this badly.
Kaeya could hear the activity just outside of his cell as his new guards paced back and forth impatiently. He would bet all of his future paychecks that they probably wanted to rip the door right open and beat him again just for them being forced to watch him.
Not that he can blame them. Guard duty could be so boring, especially when the prisoner is nearly unconscious.
Time seemed to blur together until he finally heard the door grate against the concrete as the boss came strolling in. They were frustrated that Diluc hadn’t shown up with the money yet and demanded to know why. Kaeya merely smirked and said that he had told them so, that Diluc wouldn’t waste his money on him. The boss was furious as they grabbed his face again, looking closely at his face as if looking for something. They make an off comment about still being able to make some money off him.
Kaeya tenses as the words went over in his head. Make money off of him how? Were they going to sell him to somebody else?
Thankfully, he didn’t have to think too much about it when the sound of fighting could be heard from outside. The boss looked irritated, but went towards the door to see what the commotion was all about. They barely made it to the doorway before they were stopped by flames. They barely jerked back in time to keep from being burned.
Diluc was standing in the entryway.
And he looked p****d.
----
Diluc was fuming as flames flowed around his sword. While there had been plenty of fighting when it came to the lackeys, the one thing the tavern owner wanted the most was to find the person behind this whole operation and teach them a lesson.
The person who took Kaeya.
When they finally found the cell they were looking for, he had barely broken a sweat. The other two were also keeping up with him pretty well, though they hadn't needed to do much fighting and mostly just watched Diluc let out all of his anger on the kidnappers. The fighting had seemed to help him calm down and they both breathed sighs of relief.
Then they finally found Kaeya and the anger came right back.
Kaeya looked like he had been dragged through the Abyss and barely made it back out with his life. His face had a huge bruise and he was bleeding out of his mouth (most likely internal bleeding or he bit his tongue, but the amount of blood hinted at the former). He probably had worse injuries that he couldn't see.
The sight seemed to strike something within Diluc and the flames surrounding his blade seemed to swell with his rage. He rushed forward and didn’t give the boss a chance to react before he plunged his claymore into their chest and set them ablaze.
He barely noticed when the Traveler and Jean had moved to get Kaeya loose from his bindings. By the time he turned to them, they had removed the ropes and had helped Kaeya sit up against the wall as Jean checked his ribs. The sight of his brother alive (if a little banged up) made something in him finally break.
Kaeya tensed when he saw Diluc coming over, his expression unreadable. He couldn’t tell what the older was thinking when he made that face. He could hear Jean telling Diluc to wait, sounding very alarmed, but her voice was lost when he felt Diluc grab his jacket and jerk him forward. He winced, but didn’t make any noise beyond a light hiss before he found his face buried in his brother’s shoulder while the man clung to him like a child who found their missing teddy bear.
Kaeya could hear the older calling him an idiot and almost every derogatory insult he could think of, but it was ignored when he felt the shoulder of his torn and dirtied shirt begin to turn wet.
Diluc was crying.
Kaeya’s own face was wet with more than just blood and sweat.
He winds up clinging to his brother just as tightly as they both silently cried. The past fourty-eight hours seemed to finally catch up to both of them, the stress hitting them all at once. Kaeya whispers how he thought Diluc wouldn’t come for him, but Diluc is quick to reassure him.
I will always come for you.
Kaeya winds up staying the night at the cathedral for an overnight observation, but is moved to Dawn Winery when Barbara deems him safe to move. He spends the rest of his leave being “mother hen-ed” by Diluc (more like bullied into recovery because Kaeya is a terrible patient).
And if he winds up moving back into Dawn Winery, that was between him and Diluc.
