KINGDOM HEARTS | a bird without wings {axel/naminé}
TITLE. a bird without wings.
FANDOM. Kingdom Hearts.
PAIRING. Axel/Naminé.
PROMPT. "oh tell me where your freedom lies/these streets are fields that never die/deliver me from reasons why/you'd rather cry, i'd rather fly." -- ririum
RATING. K.
NOTES. Meh. Idk if I like this or not. It was a hard prompt to use, and I couldn't make it as shippy as I wanted to in-game!canon.
Axel takes her away from Twilight Hill with his hand on her elbow. They’re running away, she knows, away from the Organization and their shadows. Away from her ripped up sketches and the boy behind the glass. Riku will take care of him, she knows. He’ll take care of everything.
His leather-slick grip is bruising. Naminé trails behind him, hesitant - scared, maybe. She doesn’t know how to do anything but take orders. She doesn’t know how to live.
He pulls her into a small house with a smile on his face. At the end of their street, there is a building with large windows that open and overlook the city. Naminé wonders who lives there.
“We’re almost home free, doll,” he goes, with his typical, lopsided smirk. “We’re almost free.”
She makes a quiet noise and feels very small next to him. His grip loosens, slides down to her wrist. He turns and pats her head, like he used to when she was a prisoner and he was the anti-hero. “I’ll be right back.”
When he leaves, his gloved fingers drag over her palm. She sits on the bed - there’s only one; she worries about sleeping arrangements - and when the man in the mask with the evil intentions comes knocking, she says yes without a thought.
She wasn’t made for freedom; she was only made for bigger cages.
FANDOM. Kingdom Hearts.
PAIRING. Axel/Naminé.
PROMPT. "oh tell me where your freedom lies/these streets are fields that never die/deliver me from reasons why/you'd rather cry, i'd rather fly." -- ririum
RATING. K.
NOTES. Meh. Idk if I like this or not. It was a hard prompt to use, and I couldn't make it as shippy as I wanted to in-game!canon.
Axel takes her away from Twilight Hill with his hand on her elbow. They’re running away, she knows, away from the Organization and their shadows. Away from her ripped up sketches and the boy behind the glass. Riku will take care of him, she knows. He’ll take care of everything.
His leather-slick grip is bruising. Naminé trails behind him, hesitant - scared, maybe. She doesn’t know how to do anything but take orders. She doesn’t know how to live.
He pulls her into a small house with a smile on his face. At the end of their street, there is a building with large windows that open and overlook the city. Naminé wonders who lives there.
“We’re almost home free, doll,” he goes, with his typical, lopsided smirk. “We’re almost free.”
She makes a quiet noise and feels very small next to him. His grip loosens, slides down to her wrist. He turns and pats her head, like he used to when she was a prisoner and he was the anti-hero. “I’ll be right back.”
When he leaves, his gloved fingers drag over her palm. She sits on the bed - there’s only one; she worries about sleeping arrangements - and when the man in the mask with the evil intentions comes knocking, she says yes without a thought.
She wasn’t made for freedom; she was only made for bigger cages.