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rocorambles · 4 years

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Let Me Show You How Much I Love You

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warning: Yandere, Implied/Slight NSFW, Implied Rape/Non-con, Violence, Abuse, Manipulation

Summary: Oikawa’s had years of practice of knowing exactly what to say to have you wrapped around his finger and with a sweet melody of reassurance, comfort, and love, you melt into his arms once again. Why had you even been afraid? Oikawa was just looking out for you because he loved you. And you loved him.

Requested by Anon

You sigh at the constant friction of faux fur brushing against your wrist and ankles as you shift until you find a comfortable position on the bed. You don't like being chained to a bed like some kind of glorified sex slave or pet, but it's better than the alternative. At least this means there's no hands constantly touching, no sickly sweet voice whispering in your ear, no presence physically hovering over you all the time. You'd take your current predicament over any of that, even if the blush pink color of the faux fur hand and ankle cuffs make you want to puke and gouge your eyes out.

It wasn't always like this. You remember when Oikawa and you first started dating. You had been so enamored by the handsome pro-athlete and easily agreed to hanging out with him over and over again until it just felt natural to officially couple up. He'd always been clingy, but back then you had eaten it up, loving the attention he always gave you. So what if he wanted to know what you were up to all the time? So what if he questioned you about every person you talked to or messaged? So what if he began to weedle his way into your life so much that it seemed like you two were attached at the hips? That just meant he loved and cared for you, right?

Things became a little strange after the two of you got married and started living together in Argentina. He followed you as soon as the two of you got out of bed, watching you as you got ready in the morning, insisting on shaving you and washing your hair and body for you. He even insisted on cutting your nails for you. Whenever you were in the kitchen and about to cook something, he'd nudge you away from the stove and never let you near anything remotely sharp, insisting he'd cook for the both of you. Every time you brought up learning the local language and finding a job to keep yourself occupied and bring in some extra income, he’d just chuckle at you and insist his hefty salary was more than enough to support the two of you and your beginner language books would mysteriously disappear the next day. But you were so lost in the honeymoon phase of your marriage that you just let it all slide with a giggle, convinced he was just that in love with you and that he just didn't want you to lift a finger.

It wasn’t until one day while you had been taking a stroll around your neighborhood hand-in-hand with your lover that you began to realize Oikawa’s behavior might not be as innocent as you had thought. You had been distracted while looking down at your phone and didn’t notice the uneven sidewalk in front of you until you tripped and sprained your ankle. You hiss in pain as you try standing up, only to slump into Oikawa’s arms, your swollen ankle unable to support your weight. He lifts you in his arms as he walks back home and you curl into his chest, looking up into his face expecting to see worry and warmth, but you flinch when he doesn't even look down at you or say a single comforting word.

The tension between the two of you grows thicker and thicker with every step you take until you feel like you’re suffocating as he gently places you on your bed. You try to sit up and reach out to the brunette, but you yelp when he roughly shoves you back down to the mattress, fury raging in his eyes. “You’re not leaving this bed unless you absolutely have to, unless I’m with you watching over you. Look at you. You can’t even walk without getting hurt!” Stunned speechless, you just stare at him as he then grabs your phone and shoves it in his pocket claiming he needed to keep it away from you for your safety because ‘it’s a dangerous distraction’. Rage lances within you and you try to lunge at him in an attempt to retrieve your device, but you cry in pain when a strong grip wraps around your injured ankle.

Ice cold fear begins to freeze the fire burning within you and you shiver as you stare into chocolate brown eyes. You stiffen as he finally releases your ankle and joins you on the bed, but Oikawa’s had years of practice of knowing exactly what to say to have you wrapped around his finger and with a sweet melody of reassurance, comfort, and love, you melt into his arms once again. Why had you even been afraid? Oikawa was just looking out for you because he loved you. And you loved him.

A few days pass and you yawn as you flip through a book Oikawa has chosen for you. You look at the clock on the wall as your stomach growls. He’s late and you haven’t eaten since he left much earlier that morning. You know he wants you to stay in bed until he’s back, but surely he wouldn’t mind if you grabbed a light snack, right? Confident the man you love wouldn’t want you to be hungry, you gingerly make your way to the kitchen, limping on your good ankle. You're slicing some cheese to go with the crackers on the counter when the sudden opening of the front door startles you and you slightly nick your finger with the knife in your hand. Grimacing, you quickly reach for a paper towel to wipe the blood just as your husband enters your home and sees you.

You turn to cheerily greet him home, but you recoil at his clenched jaw and the way he grits his teeth. “Why are you out of bed?” Your mouth opens and you try to stutter a response, but his eyes narrow at the crimson spot forming on the makeshift bandage around your finger. It only takes him a couple of long strides before he’s grabbing your wrist and dragging you back to your shared bedroom. You try to tug your arm back, telling him to slow down as shards of pain jar you with each step you tack on your bad ankle, telling him to soften his grip as you begin to lose feeling in your hands from the lack of circulation. But he doesn’t even acknowledge you as he continues to haul you until you’re once again slammed back down on your cushioned prison.

You barely recognize the man on top of you anymore as his face twists in malice and venom coats every word that leaves his mouth. “I told you to stay in bed and look at what happened because you didn’t listen!” You panickedly stutter that it was just a small cut and that there’s nothing to worry about, but your voice breaks off in an agonized scream as he latches onto your injured ankle and begins to twist it. “I can’t trust you to listen to me. I can’t trust you to keep yourself safe. You’ve given me no choice. I’m going to make sure you can’t move without me.” You hardly have the time to register what exactly he’s implying before there’s a resounding cracking sound and you howl as a pain you’ve never experienced before envelops you. Needless to say, you don’t move an inch off that bed as your broken ankle struggles to repair itself.

The next two months are agonizing. You’re finally seeing Oikawa for what he really is and you begin to loathe the feeling of his skin against yours. Words that used to be so soothing to you now make you curl in on yourself in disgust. Actions that used to be comforting now feel smothering. But what choice do you have? You can’t do anything by yourself and you just slump helplessly as he carries you from room to room, as his hands linger too long on you in the shower, as he thrusts into you night after night. The only freedom you have is your tears and you quietly weep when his arms entrap you and he raves on and on about how much he loves you and how everything he does is for you.

Hope begins to thrum within you when your ankle fully heals and your mind starts planning, strategizing, thinking as soon as you're given the all clear by the doctor. You don’t even fight Oikawa as he insists on still carrying you around despite the fact that you’re more than capable of walking yourself and you’re still lost in thought when he deposits you onto your bed. It’s only the slam of a drawer and the scent of Oikawa far too close to you that has you looking up and when you see what’s in his hands, you immediately scramble away, trying to put as much distance between you and the monster next to you as you can.

When Oikawa reflects on the moment, he’ll admit you put up a good fight. You got a few strong jabs in and one solid kick and your nails left quite the marks on him. But it doesn’t take him long to restrain you and you whimper in humiliation at the furry, pink hand and ankle cuffs now adorning your limbs and spreading you on full display for hungry eyes. You clench your eyes in denial as Oikawa coos at you telling you how pretty you look for him, how good you’ll be for him and when he forcefully brings you to your peak over and over again that night, you feel something inside of you break as you lie there and take what he gives you.

Your trip down memory lane comes to a screeching halt as your bedroom door swings open. You don’t even bother turning your head, instead choosing to close your eyes as an all too familiar pair of lips affectionately capture yours. “I missed you, Y/N-chan.” You shudder as a lean, muscular figure situates itself between your legs. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

#haikyuu yandere #yandere haikyuu #oikawa x reader #oikawa #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu #haikyuu writing #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #tw: noncon #tw: rape

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edyacouky · 4 years

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Journey to the Past (3/10)

Ok, this chapter was so long to write (my holiday without internet, going back to work etc.) Plus, the way it was wrote at first (Just Jay's point of view like the previous one) just didn't feel right while I was writting and rereading it. So I have to change so I can be proud of it. (;・・;)

I really hope you will like it. Again, english isn't my first language and I don't have beta, so if you see some mistake please tell me so I can progress. Enjoy and have a nice day everyone! (*＾∀゜)

Can be read on AO3

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~*~

Roy never believes he was born lucky. After all, before he was twelve years old, he lost two dads and suddenly become the heir of King Queen.

If not have to worry about what to eat or where to sleep was a good thing, he can’t say he loved being a Prince with all the hypocrisy and the rudeness of the rules of the Court.

It was a lonely life he was living then. Sometimes he meets other kids who understand it. Like Duke Richard, pupil of King Wayne. He tried stay in touch with all of them despite being unable to seeing them regularly, because there is comfort knowing he is not alone.

All this precious letters were put in a box on the workshop that Oliver let him have regardless of what the Court had say about that.

Fortunately, Oliver wasn’t interested in making him a perfect heir and let him do his inventions in peace. He understood that Roy found happiness and freedom with his creation.

But he tried to found them also on alcohol and drugs.

~*~

At fifteen years old, his addiction couldn’t be keeping secret anymore and awkwardly Oliver decided to move Roy away, make him leave the Capital. He wanted to protect him but Roy taken that as abandonment. His addiction problem becomes worst; he started a relationship with an assistant ambassador, Jade Nguyen.

Even at his worst, Roy wasn’t stupid. He knew that, despite her young age, Jade used her position to gain some information for her country. But Roy knew nothing anymore, and he fell hard for her, and in her own way, Jade fell for him too.

So when suddenly Jade realized that she was pregnant, they didn’t know what to do.

They were only eighteen years old, Jade can’t have child with her job, and Roy can’t be a father if his addiction rule his life.

They tried to find a place where Jade could have an abortion. But it was illegal in both of their country and the only place they found did the operation on the kitchen with a coat hanger.

“I will beg Ollie, Roy said after they cried desperate, I will go to rehab, and take care of the child.

-What?

-I’m not stupid, Jade. I know why your job doesn’t want you to have kid.”

Jade cried silently. She was more a weapon than a person for her country. And they will see her child the same way.

When Ollie learned about Roy’s situation he was relieved that Roy found a reason to go to rehab as much that Jade will not stay in the picture.

Too bad Roy had chosen a girl from the West with a possible war between Gotham and 'Eth Alth'eban at the verge.

With the different alliances, if this two countries start a war that would start a World war.

And if that happen and the child looks too much like their mother, Roy and his kid could be perceived as enemy.

Sometimes, as night when Ollie couldn’t sleep, he hoped that Jade’s pregnancy will not end well for the child, but Roy will end clean.

~*~

Nine months later, a little girl born in good health.

Jade insists that she was called Lian even if she won’t see her again anymore. Despite Oliver’s warnings, Roy accepted easily.

During three years, Roy really tried to be thankful for the second chance Ollie gives to him. But each day, he has to deal with the hate and the disregard toward his daughter. It wasn’t only the Council or the Court but also the common folk. It was impossible for his daughter to find any ally among this stupid terrified people.

~*~

Like everyone, suddenly his life takes a turn away with Joker’s attack.

King Queen, Duchess Lance, and he went to the meeting.

Roy still remembers the hope he felt when he saw that the King Wayne sound like a reasonable man, when he heard the little heir, Prince Jason, said his speech. For a moment, Roy truly thought that future will be better.

Roy still remembers the craziness in the eyes of the assailants, of the blood’s odor, of the people he didn’t save, of the fear to never see Lian anymore. For a moment, Roy truly thought he was in hell.

But, ironically, the worst was yet to come.

When they learned the news of the attack, the people of Star City decide to take that as a sign that the war has begun.

At his return, Roy discovered with horror that the Court force Lian’s nurse to leave the Palace to the street of the Capital with his daughter.

Even with Ollie’s rage about what has been done to his great daughter, and the punishment he decided, Roy couldn’t feel safe anymore in Star City and leave at night without a word.

At first, he went to Gotham, he was hoping Duke Richard could help him, and he even foolish hoped that he could persuade the King to not enter in war against 'Eth Alth'eban.

But the Council was as hostile to Lian as the Ollie’s Court was, and the only thing that interested the King was Roy memories about the day of Joker’s attack.

Bruce forced him each day to talk about the horrific day for hours. And if Roy was hoped that Dick would preserve him from his father’s insistence, but he was worst.

While Bruce didn’t say out loud that he blame Roy for leaving Prince Jason alone, Dick keep telling him it was his fault every time Roy didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear.

Eventually, Roy was too tired because of them and afraid of what will happen to his daughter when the war will begin. So despite having no plan, he left as suddenly as he left Star City.

He didn’t know how he could raise his daughter without a home. And if the situation wasn’t precarious enough, during his leaving, he meets another kid, older than Lian. His name was Colin and Roy saved him when some people tried to force him to go with them.

Roy never believes he was born lucky. And the next years prove him right.

~*~

A few months after his leaving, strangely a few days after the wedding of the King Wayne and an officer of his army, Selina Kyle, Gotham and 'Eth Alth'eban start a Cold War.

The little family couldn’t stay too long in one place, no matter how hard Roy was working. Lian wasn’t accepted in East countries and Roy and Colin weren’t in West countries.

While roaming, one day, they found in 'Eth Alth'eban a cottage. Not any cottage. But a cottage construct for the King Wayne probable when he was in relationship with Princess al Ghul.

Which mean they found jewelry, clothes and others things that were worth a little fortune.

Roy resold everything he could as discreetly as he can, but he knew that he couldn’t go to the market without bring too much attention on himself or the children. So, they decided to do a little vegetable garden.

Colin and Lian loved take care of it. Sometimes when seeing them laugh together covered by dirt, Roy almost forget that this situation couldn’t last long. One day or another they will have to leave. Lian and Colin need to go to school, they need access easily to medical care, and Roy need a job to be sure they will never go to sleep with an empty stomach ever again.

~*~

When he heard noise coming from one of the corridor, he panicked.

It’s been a while since he went sold anything to the market, but maybe some thieves or worse find them.

“Go hide. Now.” Roy ordered to his children

Colin obeyed immediately, taking Lian in his arm and went in a closet.

Roy took his bow and arrows ready to fight.

He didn’t know what he was expected but by no means it was a man younger than himself accompanied by a little kid.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?”

He aimed an arrow in their direction.

The young man immediately put himself in front of the kid, forgetting the sheet that fall and the King’s painting that is revealed.

Suddenly Roy forgets how to breathe.

The young man’s face … The last time he saw someone looking so much like that, it was during Joker’s attack.

He still remembers the expression of terror on Prince Jason when he falls. But even if he didn’t, the portrait of the Lost Prince beside the King Wayne would persuade him about the similarity.

The same smart green-blue eyes. The same pointy nose. The same pouty lips. The same untamable curly hair.

This man has clearly the face of his friend’s lost brother. The face of a ghost. A ghost a King is ready to give an important reward to anyone who will bring him back.

Money and gratitude that Roy and his children desperately need.

No.

No. It was not only stupid, but an awful thing to do to the Waynes, who helped him and still mourn an important member of their family. Roy couldn��t do that to them.

But still, Roy couldn’t help but looking the stranger up and down with a clear interest.

~*~

Jay knows that he isn’t too bad looking. Some Talia’s servants have wanted to court him before. Of course, they were interested to being closer to the royal family via Jay, but the way they looked at him prove that they have considered any physical contact with him as a nice bonus.

Never of them was granted permission from Talia, sometimes for Jay’s relief, sometimes for his disappointment.

Still, Jay knows how he looks, and he understands immediately, that this man will want something from him.

So when the redhead man lowers his bow to offer his hand with a big friendly smile, even so neither Jay nor Damian answer his question, Jay is not reassured.

“Hi, I’m Roy.”

Still on guard, Jay accepts his hand.

“I’m Jay. This is my brother Dami.

-Sorry for the welcome. The said Roy said without let Jay’s hand go. I have kids myself here. I wanted make sure you weren’t some kind of dangerous maniac.

-Tt. Don’t see how we prove that. Damian grumbles hated the fact that he is underestimated

-Your brother is cute.”

Jay bite his lips to hide his smile while he tries to hold an angry Damian furiously red and ready to put his knife in this stupid red haired man

“Can I have my hand back now?

-What? Oh! Yes. Of course. Sorry.”

Once his hand drops, Jay looks around distrustful.

“So … Where are the famous kids?

-Come with me, we were ready to eat when you appear. You can join us if you want.”

Making sure that Roy stays in front of them, Jay and Damian suspicious follow him.

“You two are really brother? Roy ask

-Different mothers.” Jay answer easily in the same time Damian said to Roy it wasn’t his business

Curiously, Roy looks disappointed but don’t seem doubt his response.

They arrive to the living room where old mattress and sheet were on the ground around a barrel. Obviously the place where the family, if this Roy didn’t lie about the kids, stay together at night in case of an attack.

“Stay here. Roy said

-Why should we listen to him? Damian growl spiteful

-Because we need to rest and eat before continue our trip.

-Tt. We don’t need him for that. We have our weapon, we could kill him.

-I don’t want to kill someone unnecessarily. Especially, if he is really just a dad.

-It wouldn’t be unnecessarily. We should eliminate him sooner or later. He is a troublesome witness.

-And the kids? You want kill them too?

-If we have too.

-No.

-Tt! Mom is right, you are too soft!

-Guys?”

Jay and Damian look at Roy who is now accompanied by two kids. One boy as old as Damian and one girl younger than them.

“Everything is alright?

-Yes.” Jay answer looking pointy at Damian who silently admit his defeat

Damian may be young, but he realizes how dangerous it would be to show division in front of these strangers.

“Well, Colin, Lian, this is Jay and his little brother Dami. They will eat with us today.”

If Lian accept with pleasure this new friends that will break their isolated and boring lives, Colin looks at them wondering if it is fish, flesh, or fowl.

~*~

As an unexpected turnaround, neither Jay nor Damian would have believed when they leave Azraq Palace, they sit together to eat vegetables on soup.

“Are you two really alone? Colin ask still unsure about them

-Not your business.

-My …! Jason bites his lips when he almost calls Damian Prince. Dami, please.

-It is not their business. Damian persist

-We are alone. Jay answer

-Why are you here?

-Not your …

-Our village was destroyed.

-Tt.

-Damn! Roy said seeming to believe them. What happen?”

This time Damian didn’t even want to say anything. He just grumbles looking like all this situation is Jason’s fault.

“With the war, we are lucky it didn’t happen sooner.

-Oh. Must have been awful.

-Dami and I survived. That’s all that matter.”

Damian sorrowfully think of his mother who may be dead. Killed by his grandfather, and he still doesn’t understand why.

A little voice inside his head keeps whispering he must be because of him. After all, he is not a bastard whose father is his grandfather’s enemy.

But the Cold war only start since four years and Damian is ten years old.

Neither of this previous hours make sense for him.

~*~

Roy seeing the miserable expression of the little kid decide that it’s enough with the question.

“Anyway, if you want sleep here with us tonight, you are welcome.

-Thank y…”

Lian suddenly cough surprising everyone. What seemed benign at first, soon became worrying.

More she coughs, more she worries about breath, more she cries making her breathing more difficult.

“Everything is fine Pumpkins. Roy tries to reassure her hugging her. Just breathes Baby girl. Everything is fine.”

Colin takes Lian’s hand and smiles to her. Jay and Dami looks lost and helpless.

Roy don’t blame them. He is himself helpless.

It’s been a few days now that Lian has terrifying coughing fit. None of West doctor want Roy’s money and none of East doctor want to help a folk of the West. The only who did were charlatan who give him some scented water.

Roy is not doctor, he has no diagnostic, no treatment to give to his daughter to help her.

And each day becomes worse than the previous one.

Slowly but surely, while he hugs desperately his daughter, the thoughts he had when he first saw Jay come back.

He really didn’t want to hurt Bruce and Dick by given false hope about their lost one.

But he is so angry for so many years about how the world think of his daughter, of his family. All of that happen because of the war between Gotham and 'Eth Alth'eban. That’s never of the country has the nerve to actually send soldiers doesn’t mean that they didn’t start a Word war.

After all, seeing things like this, the King Wayne owe him. He owe his children.

King Wayne loves lost kids anyway, even if he realizes Jay isn’t his Lost Prince, he will probably want to take care of him and his brother. Probably.

~*~

When Lian finally feels better, and they finish eating, Roy screws up one’s courage and ask Jay:

“Do you mind talking with me without the kids?”

Jay is grateful by Roy’s subtlety and that he want his price away from the children. But he doesn’t mean that he want to do it.

He tries to stay relax while he nods.

“Stay safe.” He tells to Damian hoping that he will understand that he shouldn’t hesitate to run away or fight without Jay if necessary

Damian doesn’t sound happy to have to stay with the other kids but doesn’t try to persuade Jay to stay with him.

Shockingly, Roy didn’t try to search Damian and Jason or order them to put their weapons away. In fact, he seems to want Jay and Damian feel comfortable with them. And Jay feels comfortable with his weapon on him while he follows Roy away from the heat and light of the fire.

Jay still doesn’t have decided if he should let Roy have his way with him. On the one hand, Roy gives them food even if it was obvious that his children and he need it more than Damian and Jay, and have a hidden place to sleep would be good for them when they will have to continue their flight to Gotham. On the other hand, Jay is not a prostitute and say yes to one thing may be constraining him to many other things.

More Jay thinks about that more he is convinced that he should prove to Roy that he will not have his way with him and couldn’t make them leave.

As Jay takes his weapon ready to fight, Roy ask:

“Do you know who they are?”

They’re in front of the painting Jay wanted to show to Damian.

“This is the King Bruce and the Dead Prince. Jay answer ignoring a new headache

-The Lost Prince. Roy contradicts with a seller smile. The King still search for him.

-It's time for a reason. It’s been what? Three, four years?

-Don’t see why? You look a lot like him.

-I knew my parents. Jay lied. I’m not the Dead Prince.

-Maybe not but you could easily fool anyone.”

Jay frowns at these words and keep the silence before he finally truly understands what Roy means by that.

“You want to use me for the reward. It was for that you were looking me so deeply earlier.

-Oh, I won’t have said I was looking you deeply but … Roy tries to defend himself blushing ferociously

-What’s your plan? Jay asks realized that it could be a chance for Damian and him to go discreetly to Gotham. We go to Gotham, you leave with the reward and a few weeks later my brother and I are at best exiled, if not killed, for make fun of the Royal Family?

-The King will not kill you.

-I will if I was him.

-He won’t. And if they made a mistake it’s on them after all.

-Sure, because rich and powerful people love admit they are wrong. And even if they don’t kill us, the end is the same. You disappear with the reward and my brother and I gain nothing.”

True is if Jay can’t convince the King that Damian is his son, he can prove that Damian is Talia’s son. So they will keep them, at least as political prisoner in relative luxury. So the reward doesn’t mean anything for him, but it will be weird if he doesn’t argue with Roy about that.

“Well, I’m not against give you 2/5 of the reward …

-Only 2/5? You’re kidding me I hope.

-No. I have two children. You only have your brother.

-I know how much the reward is. The half will be more than enough for you three.

-Doesn’t change the fact that I have one person more than you to feed.

-Doesn’t change that it will be my brother and I who have to deal with the Royal Family’s anger when they will realize I am not the Dead Prince.

-The Lost Prince. If we agree in that you really need to change the way you call the Prince.

-So we say 50/50?”

Roy pouts. This man, older than Jay, Roy looks like he is twenty-four years old, truly pouts.

Jay doesn’t really understand how he could have thought this Roy as a menace.

“Ok, fine! Roy finally accepts giving his hand to Jay. Sleep well. Tomorrow we leave for Star City.

-Wait a minute. What?” Jay exclaims holding Roy’s hand

Going to Star City make them a not negligible detour.

“We can’t go to Gotham like that. We’re not the first wanted to fool them for the reward. We need go to someone I know at Star City. If this person support that you could be the Lost Prince, we will easily be accepted by the Court.

-And what it will take to convince this person to help us? Money? I don’t have any.

-No, not money. Just a good acting. If you can convince her that you are the Lost Prince …

-So you can play the innocent and pretend I have fooling you too when the Royal Family will learn that I am not the Dead Prince. Jay notices. You are a really naughty man, Mister Roy.”

Roy blushes at that and try to defend himself.

“I don’t try to trap you! We can talk about everything more in details tomorrow after a good night of sleep.

-My brother and I will sleep in another room.”

If Roy is annoyed by Jay’s reply, he doesn’t show it. When Jay go take Damian to sleep in another room, the two kids and Roy say them good night. Jay reply but Damian ignores them.

After blocking the door, Jay explains to Damian the plan. The little Prince isn’t convinced about the pertinence to follow this nobody homeless, and he isn’t thrilled to have spent time with the kids.

But it’s true no one will search them with a poor family and they can’t tell who Damian is before they meet the King Bruce. So using the identity of a dead man isn’t a bad idea, not a brilliant one but it has to be enough.

This night despite having a goose that lays the golden egg in the room next to him, Roy doesn’t sleep well.

He still feel bad for wanting to fool Bruce and Dick, but he is more worried about what will happen to his children if they still live like that.

Roy never believes he was born lucky, but this time he thinks that life may be decided to gives him a hand.

~*~

They abandon the cottage after breakfast and start they journey together.

Lian and Colin play one of their games “With my little eye I spy” and try making Damian join them. At first, the Prince argues that he is above that, but Colin found the right words to convince him.

“Let him be, Lian. You see that Dami isn’t smart enough to understand our game.

-Tt. Excuse you. Your little game is so stupid even a tree will understand.

-Oh, so you’re afraid that you will lose against us? That’s ok. We will not think less of you if you lose.”

Damian blush furiously with anger at the accusation, especially with Lian who put gently her hand on his arm. And the only way he found to prove Colin wrong is to win and so to participate.

Behind them, Roy and Jay watch with tenderness the kids play together.

Jay doesn’t remember the last time Damian talks to someone of his age. Touching his bracelet, he really hopes this travel will end well for Damian.

“So about the plan, Roy said deciding to finally break the silence between them, I know someone on a village not too far from here you could give us some visa to leave the country by the train.

-I say that before and I will say that again. My brother and I really haven’t money.”

It is really a shame that they escape was so poorly organized.

“Well, I will lend you the money for now. You will pay me back one we will have the reward.

-You really take many risks for something that may fail. Jay notes promises to himself he will find a way to repaid Roy’s kindness if he succeeds bring Damian to safety

-We will succeed. And if we want to fool them all then you need to look less poor

-Less poor?

-Well we couldn’t do much about what we’re wearing. I was talking more about your breeding.”

Jay is so happy he learned how to bite his tongue. The flood of insult he wanted to get out wasn’t something he wants his Prince and the other children to hear.

Talia gave him many instructors, some of them was exclusively to make sure Jay was good breeding. And never, never, Jay gave a reason to be disappointed in him to his instructors and Talia.

So hearing this stupid redhead nobody telling him he looked like he belongs to the lower class, was truly infuriating.

Maybe his Prince was right when he suggest killing him.

“Well I’m listening.

-What?

-Since you seem to know so much about what is good and bad breeding, I can’t wait for your precious advice.

-I didn’t mean to offend you … Roy tries to defend himself

-Gentleman, start your teaching.”

~*~

Not knowing where to start, Roy decide introduce Jay to the family tree of the Wayne. After all, it was something Jason has to learn by heart. Fortunately, it was also something Roy has to know as Oliver’s heir.

“Well let’s start with the beginning. So the actual king of Gotham is Bruce Wayne son of Thomas Wayne and Martha Kane, we will talk about the Kane later, they died when he was nine. A burglar shouts them on Crime Alley.

-A person tries to rob the Royal couple?

-He succeeds. He leaves with some money and the necklace of the Queen.

-That’s all?

-Stupid, right? Especially knowing he was condemned to death when they caught him seventeen years later.

-This Joe Chill was really stupid.

-Oh so read about this story.

-What?

-Well you just said Joe Chill, didn’t you? It’s him who kills the Wayne.”

When all Jay did it is looking perplexed Roy, he clears his throat and proceeds:

“Anyway. So the parents of Thomas Wayne are Patrick Wayne, the King known to have make fortune with all the war he started, Brother of Benjamin, a playboy who give STD to his wife making her sterile and Abigael Wayne, never married and never interested in men for what we know, son of Kenneth Wayne and Laura Elizabeth, and …”

Jay was used to have to stay focus for a long time but while Roy keeps talking about all these persons, he can feel his head starting to hurt. It is a weird sensation. Most of the time it was like a knitting needle try to get out violently to his head. This time, it is like some ants are walking inside his head. It is bearable but really unpalatable.

“Tt. Stop trying to hold my hand! Damian has to yell again at Lian, this little girl is unbearable in a way his patience can’t be enough

-But I want Colin and you to swing me. Lian complains

-Too bad I am not here to obey you.”

Like the Prince Damian of 'Eth Alth'eban will be the servant of a poor baby. It should be the opposite, this people should serve them. Damian don’t understand why Jay accept so easily that this stupid redhead man treat him like he was bad breeding or idiot.

No way, Damian will stoop to that.

“Can’t you be nice?” Colin says

The way this little brat act toward his sister make him so angry. They shared their food, the place where they slept. They even leave a safe place they found after many months of fear because of them.

If the older brother look nice enough, the kid is really insufferable.

“I don’t have to be nice.

-Yeah right. Colin says sarcastically. Being nice is just an elementary rule of society.

-Tt. I’m sure you aren’t used to people being nice to you since the way you live. One person less or more won’t make the difference.

-Oh boy, I truly hope you didn’t mean what you just say.” Colin says becoming red with fury

He is this close to hit this stupid arrogant I-Think-I-Am-Better-Than-Everyone boy.

How can someone who lived in a simply village, who lost almost everything they owed, that doesn’t have money anymore, could be so insupportable.

“What? Are you as stupid your look let guess? Damian answer knowing well that fists will be thrown

-With my little eyes, I see something wet! Lian yells, so they stop whatever they’re doing is

-Is it a puddle? Colin asks after a long moment of silence where he glares meanly at Damian

-No.

-Is it the river? Colin still tries

-No.

-The dew. Damian says without a hesitation

-Yes! You’re really good at this game, Dami. Lian says with more kindness that it is necessary hoping the boys will stop being angry

-An idiot would have found that.” Damian simply answer looking at Colin with a haughty smile

This little …! Colin have eliminated all the others possibilities, of course he found the answer. Scratch that Colin will hit with kid, he will kill him before the end of the day.

~*~

Precipitously, Jay’s headaches become too much to endure. Head in his hands, he has to sit.

“Hey, Jay. Are you alright? Roy ask helping him to sit down

-Stay away from him! Damian intervenes pushing Roy and accusing him. What did you do?

-My … Dami, you know it’s happen sometimes. Jay tries to calm him so he will stop yelling

-Your face wasn’t ever that ugly before.”

Jay would have laugh if even thought about that sound wouldn’t have been a torture.

“The kid is right. You look pretty awful. If it happens a lot don’t you have any medication with you?”

Jay thinks of the essential oil offer by Princess Talia. This was the only thing in the world that could help him.

“It’s lost as the same time we lose our home. It will be fine. I just need some minutes.

-Well, we are just a few minutes from the guy for the visa. Roy thinks at loud. He will want a photo but he has some chair where you could sit. Do you think you can walk a little more?

-He just say he need now some minutes. Are you stupid or deaf? Damian said losing patience

-Oh shut up! Colin said to him before Roy or Jay could answer anything. Stop being a stupid spoiled brat!

-Tt. What did you just say?”

Great the Prince Damian the-only-person-who-say-no-to-me-are-my-mother-and-my-protector just found someone not impressed by him. Jay always hoped that it will happen someday but he doesn’t feel well enough to calm Damian.

“Guys! Enough! Roy says forcing the boys to get distance

-I don’t have to take order from you!

-See! It’s exactly for that you’re a spoiled brat! Things are hard enough; we don’t have to support you.

-Like hell I want to be with you!”

Lian hugs quietly Jay with a big smile.

“It’s help me when Dad did this to me. Does he help you?”

Not really. The headache is still awful and he still worries about Damian.

“It’s help. Thank you.”

Roy takes both of the boys by the arm to take them away from Jason.

“Now listen to me carefully both of you. Both of you. Dami, I understand that you’re worried but for people like Colin and I, it’s dangerous to stay at the sight of all. We need to move quickly. Colin, I need you to be patient for this collaboration. Once you have the visa and Jay feels better, we will discuss your misunderstanding. But not now. Did you both understand?

-Yes. Colin grumbles

-Dami?”

Damian is looking at Jay. He knew till the beginning that this plan is stupid. The fact, that Jay is his only friend he has and now his only family until he meet his father and save his mother, doesn’t help easy his anger toward his Shadow.

Damian is the Prince of 'Eth Alth'eban, he owes nothing to this common folk that doesn’t even belong to his country.

“Dami, did you listen?”

But Jay looks so sick. What if he dies? Damian is not that angry at him.

“Tt! Yes. Damian mumbles

-Good. Now go to apologize to Jay for yelling next to him while his head hurt. Then we will leave.”

If Colin says honestly he was sorry, Damian prefers say:

“Yelling next to you wasn’t a good idea.

-No, it wasn’t.”

The little family though that it wasn’t true apologies, but Jay knows better than them.

“I’m sorry.

-I know. I forgive you.”

It is less than twenty-four hours since all their word was shaken and they lost everything they know. Since they were forced to team up with some homeless stranger to go somewhere unknown where maybe they will have the help they need.

But they feel reassurance when they can understand each other so easily. It reminds them, they can face anything together.

#dc comics #fanfic #anastasia au #jayroy #jason todd #roy harper #damian wayne #colin wilkes #Lian Harper

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petalsbloomed-a · 4 years

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VERY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY !! RULES. repost , don’t reblog ! tag 10 ! good luck ! TAGGED. stolen !!! TAGGING. anyone who wants to do this tbh cuz this is long as shit and i dont want anyone to do this who might not be able to aljdhfskjdhkj

BASICS. FULL NAME : galo thymos NICKNAME : himbo, idiot, rookie, newbie, #1 firefighting idiot AGE : 21 BIRTHDAY : june 30 ETHNIC GROUP : japanese (+ korean / western european) NATIONALITY : american LANGUAGE / S : english / japanese / studied french and spanish SEXUAL ORIENTATION : demisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : biromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS : single HOME TOWN / AREA : promeopolis (i envision this being around nyc / tri-state area) CURRENT HOME : lives with older sister and niece PROFESSION : firefighter, undergraduate student

PHYSICAL. SKIN : pretty fair tan, but he sometimes appears a little darker than usual. his skin does a strange thing where it changes shade in different lighting. his skin is usually smooth, but right after getting finished with work, he sometimes is covered in dust and appears somewhat dried out. EYES : slightly upturned, deep-set, wide and somewhat of an almond shape. irises are usually very round, and are a bluish-cyan color. pupils often alight with mischief. in intense lighting, you can see a little red dot reflecting off his eyes. LIPS : pretty thin and nude, hard to notice. matches his skin tone very well. usually quite smooth. tends to get chapped after working. COMPLEXION : pretty fair, but in different lighting, he can look a lot tanner than what he really is. BLEMISHES : he has a few moles here and there, but overall his skin is fairly clear and clean. he doesn’t suffer from acne nearly as much as he did when he was in grade school. SCARS : he has some tiny, barely noticeable acne scars on his face, chin, and neck. the most noticeable ones are on his left arm from when he was practically set alight by a burnish flame. these are thick and quote coarse, and can cause some discomfort when touched. he also has a very small nick in his left ear, which was how his sister identified him when he found her after being separated from their family after the burnish incident when he was a kid. TATTOOS : an arrow that goes right below the nape of his neck to the middle of his back. the point is at about the small of his back, and there are a few decorations along the arrow. HEIGHT : 6′0, 183 cm WEIGHT : 165 lbs, ~75 kg BUILD : very muscular, quite athletic. very beefy arms, strong chest, well-built abdominals. however, his thighs and waist are pretty thin and trim. FEATURES : his most distinct features are his dramatic haircut and scars on his left arm, as well as the small white line on the outer helix of his left ear. his chest and shoulders are also quite broad in comparison to his rather thin waist. ALLERGIES : slight peanut allergy, dust, pollen. USUAL HAIR STYLE : undercut with a dramatic, spiky blue mohawk. USUAL FACE LOOK : mischievous smile or smirk; sometimes looks a bit wistful, like he’s thinking about something. USUAL CLOTHING : is normally shirtless, wearing thick red firefighter pants with a yellow “3.” most often wears black rubber boots, black gloves, ear lobe piercings, and an industrial piercing. sometimes wears a black tee-shirt.

PSYCHOLOGY. FEAR / S : spiders, bugs, needles, being in love (kind of), losing his sister or niece, finding out his parents are dead. ASPIRATION / S : to continue his firefighting career, to receive a masters in emergency medical technology / fire prevention & safety technology. POSITIVE TRAITS : brave, caring, friendly, modest. NEGATIVE TRAITS : daring, reckless, sensitive, over-attachment. MBTI : entertainer (ESFP-A) ZODIAC : cancer TEMPEREMENT : choleric / sanguine SOUL TYPE / S : performer ANIMALS : zebra VICE HABIT / S : twiddling thumbs, jiggling leg (usually the right), twirling & playing with hair, biting nails, chewing lips, swearing, sighing, pen clicking. FAITH : none; would consider himself agnostic. GHOSTS ? : yes. AFTERLIFE ? : not sure. REINCARNATION ? : not sure, but leaning towards no. ALIENS ? : yes. POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : independent, opinions slightly more left-leaning EDUCATION LEVEL : graduate student

FAMILY. FATHER : nikanor thymos MOTHER : agape thymos SIBLINGS : danai thymos (older sister) EXTENDED FAMILY : james (ex-brother-in-law), aria (niece) NAME MEANING / S : his first name is of an unknown meaning, but it could mean “from gaul” in greek. his last name comes from the greek word “thumos”, which means “spiritedness” or “the need of recognition.” HISTORICAL CONNECTION ? : not that we know of, i think ???

FAVORITES. BOOK : harry potter / hunger games MOVIE : the lion king 5 SONGS : rick astley - never gonna give you up, lady gaga - born this way, beyonce - countdown, ariana grande - god is a woman, pitbull - timber (feat. kesha) DEITY : zeus HOLIDAY : christmas MONTH : july SEASON : summer PLACE : his bedroom / the lounge at work WEATHER : partly cloudy SOUND : meditation sounds SCENT / S : coffee, flowers, fresh baked desserts, fresh pizza, light cologne TASTE / S : coffee, vanilla cake, milk chocolate, parmesan cheese, green tea anything tbh FEEL / S : soft blankets, comfy pillows, loose-fitting clothes ANIMAL / S : dogs NUMBER : 13 COLORS : teal blue / flame red

EXTRA. TALENTS : piano, singing, writing, linguistics, thinking quickly, firefighting BAD AT : drawing (sort of), getting himself organized, following orders (sometimes) TURN ONS : kindness, sensitivity, acceptance, openness, agreeableness TURN OFFS : irresponsibility, lack of free time, ignorance HOBBIES : piano, singing, writing (stories, poems, etc), karate TROPES : ambiguously gay, antiquated linguistics, broken tears, calling your attacks, the chosen one, firemen are hot, going commando, hunk, idiot hero, innocently insensitive, large ham, mr. fanservice, oblivious to love, the protagonist, rookie red ranger, scars are forever, shonen hair, you gotta have blue hair (found here, there’s a lot more actually) QUOTES : “medals are made to be awarded to and from people who deserve them.” / “you can’t just kill for no reason!” / “[i’m] the universe’s #1 firefighting idiot!”

MUN QUESTIONS. Q1 : if you could write your character your way in their own movie , what would it be called , what style would it be filmed in , and what would it be about ? A1 : honestly??? i think i would keep it the way it is, BUT i would like to have seen some more canonical information about galo’s family. as of right now, we know that kray saved him after his family was attacked by the burnish. if i were to direct a new movie about galo, i would focus it mainly on his family. Q2 : what would their soundtrack / score sound like ? A2 : i think it would be a mix of melancholic music as well as more upbeat stuff. on my blog’s main page there are links in the sidebar to both a soundtrack playlist as well as a pop music playlist; i definitely think it’s fair that a variety of genres would suit him and his experiences. Q3 : why did you start writing this character ? A3 : when i first watched promare, i was instantly drawn to this buffoon himbo. i’ve always had a thing for upbeat, energetic characters who are also quite caring and a bit dumb (which yes galo is very smart but he has his moments). while their personalities differ greatly (despite having the same personality type), he reminds me a lot of lance from vld, who i absolutely adore as well (and i also rp him too oops) Q4 : what first attracted you to this character ? A4 : again, probably his personality. while i’m not as energetic and upbeat as galo and i have a very, very different personality type than him, i feel like i definitely do understand him. i understand why he feels he needs to be overly confident, and i also have my moments where i just need to storm off and be alone. god i could write paragraphs and paragraphs about why i like galo but i wanna keep it short and sweet and just stick with those two points, which i consider to be the biggest points. Q5 : describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse. A5 : look, i know i said i liked confidence, but something about galo that annoys me is the fact that he can often seem too confident. like yeah he seemed pretty humble in that pizza scene at the beginning of the movie, but i can’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance towards people who put themselves right into the center of attention and be all like “yeah i know i’m great.” like my boy i love you but do u have to announce urself every time u appear on the scene??? and pls stop being so reckless u honestly might die too soon one of these days we want u to be around for us to enjoy u Q6 : what do you have in common with your muse ? A6 : i definitely feel like we both have our moments where we just need some peace and quiet. of course, everyone needs this, but when galo talked about running off when he was pissed reminded me of me; i tend to go and cool off and vent to myself if i’m annoyed about something. we’re both naturally people-oriented and love to be around others, even though galo likes being the center of attention a little bit more than myself. Q7 : how does your muse feel about you ? A7 : in the sense that if galo were real, i honestly think we would get along fairly well. we have different ways of dealing with things, but we have similar habits and personality traits. however when it comes to rp blogs, while i do like to headcanon things about my muses that mirror my own opinions and beliefs, i do consider the mun/muse relationship fairly symbiotic. we as real people can learn so much from fictional characters and in how we play them, and of course, the mun will determine some things about the muse that will deter from canon. Q8 : what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ? A8 : i just started this blog and have had very minimal interactions, so it’s hard to say ! i’d say that an interaction with a kray muse would be the most interesting. part of me wants galo to forgive kray and to have a better relationship with him post-movie canon, but there’s still so much about galo and kray’s relationship pre-movie as well; what was their relationship like? was kray like a father to galo? how can i describe the psychological mindset that galo had after finding out that kray betrayed him? there’s so much about these two that i really want to discover and look at, while of course providing my own insight (cuz that’s what muns do, right?). Q9 : what gives you inspiration to write your muse ? A9 : i like to study galo’s actions in the movie, and try to find the underlying cause of the actions he takes. however, when it comes to headcanons, i will often think of a scene or an idea in my head and then internally apply it to galo and see if it works. this is usually what kindles my writing fire: the thoughts that often rush through my head. Q10 : how long did this take you to complete ? A10 : like two whole days lmao im so slow

#heart of fire and soul of passion. (headcanon)#noah rambles. (out of character)

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elkian · 7 years

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wassup got a fic out of my docs and out of my system #feelsgoodman

Rating: G

Words: 1,752

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

Characters: All Paladins, Princess Allura, Coran (Paladin-centric)

It’s when Hunk takes a light (but, judging from Lance’s face, not light enough), joking swipe at Lance that they notice.

Pidge realizes just how much they’ve curled on top of Keith, practically sitting in his lap. Keith, who - doesn’t hate, but definitely dislikes touching people, being touched, is slowly and unconsciously carding one hand through their hair. Shiro is hanging over the couch from the back, mock-refereeing Hunk and Lance’s impromptu slapfight, his human arm slung casually across Pidge and Keith’s necks. Lance and Hunk have been practically entwined in each other for the last twenty minutes - and they’re both cuddly, but usually not that cuddly.

The best, oddest thing is that it doesn’t really snap off… the paladins drift to their rooms for lights out, almost glowing in the unusual contact, and though they’re mostly back to normal the next ‘day’, if Lance’s arms slides against Keith’s during breakfast, or Hunk’s back presses reassuringly against Pidge’s during practice, it’s nothing to mention.

---

The next time it happens, they start to realize why. After a long mind-melding session (attempt), the paladins wander into the dining room. Rather than slump at the table and wait for Coran and Hunk to feed them, they decide to follow the yellow paladin into the ‘kitchen’ area.

Keith and Shiro find themselves at a pair of cutting boards, following Hunk’s ecstatic yet clear instructions on how to cut the various alien… vegetables? Pidge has the stove-like thing going and is stirring what appears to be some kind of pasta, while Lance is surprisingly deftly folding spices and herbs into a bowl of cheese-vegetable. Hunk all but dances through the food preparation area, dipping a tasting spoon into this and that and glowingly complimenting everyone’s work. It’s the first time most of the paladins have seen him in action like this, and they realize that to him, food is a kind of engineering - both a science and an art.

And when they settle together at the table (chairs a little closer than usual, as they lean over each other and fight for fritters and pasta, laughing and settling back, their shoulders knocking together), the food tastes sharper and better than ever, complex alien flavors filling their palates and lending an extra helping of cheer and energy to the previously burnt-out crew.

---

“What does this do?”

“How does this work?”

“How much can we alter the gravity in the castle? What about each room?”

“How old are the Lions? Could we make more? What happens if a pilot passes out or something, can someone else sub in?”

Coran looked fit to pull his mustache out.

Pidge glances at the Altean and their mouth curls in a smirk, but they just keep tapping away at their newest project. Allura doesn't even bother with that much restraint, laughing for what feels like the first time in weeks.

The redhead swatted Lance away from poking at a button that probably wouldn’t eject them all into space. “Alright, that’s it! You are ALL GROUNDED until you can be yerselves properly again! I can’t believe this!” He whipped around and pointed at Pidge, whose smug face instantly fell. “And you! I get that there’s a power rush and all involved but could you try not to dominate yer teammate’s minds?”

Pidge’s expression isn’t quite as blank as they like, but blank enough to make Coran lose steam and (alongside a still-amused Allura) actually explain what’s been happening to them for weeks. They’d all guessed, of course, but it was good to hear someone actually lay it all out.

Shiro clapped a hand on the Altean’s shoulder as he finished. “Well, we’re handling it pretty well so far, Coran. And I don’t think it’s such a bad thing if we paladins - all of us - know a little bit more about what we’re doing, don’t you?”

Coran’s budding confident smile soured as Lance almost immediately appeared in front of him, pointed at his chin, and asked, “Wait, do you shave? How do you shave? Can I borrow your razor?”

---

And then they were Keith.

This far in, the melding started to have more dramatic, or at least easily discernible effects - it was easier to stay oneself, but more nuance was also received.

Hunk felt like his skin was tighter than ever. Itchy, on the verge of doing something. His nervous tics and constant movement increased - it wasn’t enough to rummage through everyone’s things, he was pacing, he wanted to go for a mile run even though they’d just finished training.

Pidge’s tech work becomes even faster, if slightly sloppy. They breach new and barely imaginable ideas, half-crafted code being discarded in favor of transcribing the newest thought. They feel on fire, more intuition than person.

Lance is… Lance is good, in a way no one expected. Something about Keith’s razor instincts and surety just clicks with his hunches and bravado. Of course, it also makes him even more insufferable than ever - though he’s quieter than they’ve ever seen him, what few words do leave him are far more accurate than anyone is comfortable with. He’s making a particularly unflattering observation about Coran when Shiro finally physically picks him up and forces him to go to his bedroom, with a stern but amused “Behave”.

---

Lance’s interconnectivity, Hunk’s interest in and love for all aspects of food, Pidge’s burning curiosity, and Keith’s deeply ingrained intuition all have perks and mostly-proportionate downsides, and Shiro is no different.

Is this truly the first time he’s come through, or the first they’ve noticed? It’s hard to tell, but several of Team Voltron would put their money on the former - while he’s often stern and disciplinary, Shiro does his best not to burden his team, even when it would help him.

It’s difficult to translate years (and desperate, deeply-engraved, half-forgotten months) of experience across a temporary mental connection, particularly in just residue. They do eventually notice, however; Lance thinks a little before he opens his mouth. Hunk remembers Pidge’s discomfort and considers putting the diary back (he doesn’t. But it’s a start). Pidge finds themself a little more aware of the emotions of the people around them, as does Keith, and both find themselves a little more in control of their anger that day.

Shiro wakes that night, choking on a scream; same as usual. But he’s barely sat up, intent on getting out of bed and exercising the phantoms away, when the door whooshes open.

Much as he might want to deny it, he lets Lance curl into his body, head butting into his ribs and fingers circling his 'real' elbow and snores already shaking the bed. He lets Hunk and Keith shove a second mattress through the doorway and flop onto the floor, Pidge already slumped with their back against the side of the bunk and snoring (little fingers oh-so-fragile laced with his monstrous ones, and he wants to object but he feels like a person for the first time in months). Hunk’s halfway through a story, an amused (and still fully-clothed) Keith humoring him with a faint smile, when sleep brings him down, and while the red paladin is the last of the four to fall into slumber, he also looks more relaxed than Shiro has ever seen him.

And somehow, that’s what really helps him smile, half-lidded eyes brimming with tears even with Lance sawing logs against his chest and curled like a constrictor around him, that’s what helps him finally sleep, for what feels like the first time in years.

---------

For the rest of his life, Shiro will remember the feeling of Pidge’s pulse under his fingertips as he woke; the quiet and, for lack of a better word, universal breathing pattern that had filled his humble quarters slowing the existential dread that waking brought.

Their dramatic days lessened, but was it because they’d improved or because they were resembling each other more? And was that because of the link, or just because they’d spent so much time together, especially as comrades-in-arms? It wasn’t as if they didn’t find themselves sometimes aping Allura or Coran’s unique alien accents, or unusual turns of phrase - just the other day, Lance had caught himself (okay, Keith caught him and then Hunk and Pidge wouldn’t let him live it down, whatever) using body language from both Alteans, the particular wrist flick Coran might use to indicate something, the foot-tapping Allura did when thinking of something long past.

So, anyways, it might not be anything.

But then again.

When the newest aliens threw them a welcome/thanks/leave-as-soon-as-you’re-done-please feast, and Keith accidentally shoved a chunk of hairy, deeply texturally unpleasant root vegetable in his mouth, it was Pidge, who wasn’t even looking his way, who quietly handed him a napkin and distracted their hosts while he spat it out.

When a piece of the kitchen fell on and trapped Hunk and Lance, weeks after their last mind meld, it was Shiro who stopped in the middle of his workout six levels away and found them, Keith and Pidge appearing almost as soon as he’d gotten the story out of the boys.

When Pidge kicked a piece of unresponsive alien hardware and accidentally broke their toe, Hunk had them in his arms and halfway to the infirmary before they could even get over the shock to yell.

Shiro had a bad dream and Lance started crying in the middle of a joke, and the four collected outside his door before he’d even woken up. Keith sprained his knee in training and Lance noticed before he did; Lance tried to eat something that Hunk had meant to throw out and Pidge stopped him, even though they couldn’t explain why; Lance tried to tell a new joke and Keith ruined it by shouting the punchline a sentence early and laughing hysterically; Shiro got a craving for marshmallows and walked into the kitchen to find Hunk putting the finishing touches on ‘alien s’mores’ or, as Lance liked to call them, Space S’Mores (with pronounced capitalization).

Sometimes it worried them. Allura and Corran seemed to find it normal, but was it? Was it normal for paladins… or for Alteans? Was it making them other than human?

But as time went on, they began to realize that only some of it was the mind meld, the Lions. And a lot of it… was them.

Years after the war, after Zarkon’s defeat, even when far from each other, they would always be a team.

They’d always be family.

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sturdybackbone · 7 years

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a daytime moon and a nighttime sun

Artur, once, once upon a time, thought that perhaps, just perhaps, he could have the happy ending which he never thought he could have.

Artur always dreamed of being a famous wizard. Of having his name spoken in classrooms all over the world. To have people adoring him, knowing him, wanting him. Artur wished, at first, to be the very greatest transfiguration master to ever be. And then, the very best runesmith. But, despite these dreams, these hopes, under the layers of Artur’s being, he knew, that these were mere dreams. Childhood desires. And that, at the end of the day, he was going to die quietly, unwanted, unneeded. Or he’d die the villain his family made him to be.

The monster was going to lay on the bloodied battlefield, hide pierced by the hero’s lance, and he was going to bleed out, and the world would cheer over his gurgling, dead body. And the creepy crawlies underfoot would gobble all of him, all memory of him, up, and leave nothing behind but stark white bones which would be trampled under the feet of clumsy children. Artur, despite his dreams of wardsmithing and spellweaving and traveling the world and finding the Primordial Runes, knew, knew, as fervently and utterly that he was alive, that this was still meant to be his end. Perhaps less infused with the monochromic morals and fanciful words of fairytales but—Perhaps in a quiet little alley, is where he’ll meet his end. Maybe he’ll cross the wrong person and bleed out like a dog on the street. Maybe, just maybe, his body will give up under him, and he’ll be dead before he even meets the floor. And the floor would swallow him up, and no one cry, no one would care. But, once upon a time, once upon a time in a softer, more glorious time, Artur thought, for a bit, for the smallest bit, that, perhaps, just perhaps, that he could…. Be happy.

Artur had a friend. He had a friend. And he wasn’t afraid to say that he had a friend. In fact, he reveled in it. In the friend who was ready to call him a friend back. They weren’t conventional friends. Conventional friends talked about girls and dumb things their parents did and about quidditch games and about stupid kid things, and, well. He and Bellamy didn’t speak much at all. And when they did, it was about classes, or half-verbal half-unspoken careful treading around the quiet horrors which hid in the corners of Bellamy’s mind. Artur was happy with this, for the longest time. For the longest time, this was all he could handle. For the longest time, if Bellamy would even take a step closer than his usual, Artur would stiffen, and would feel the urge to float, float, float away take him, but each time he’d swallow it down, and smile meekly. And then, and then, whenever Bellamy would take a step closer, Artur wouldn’t stiffen. He would stay as he is, and then, and then, whenever Bellamy would step closer, Artur would ease. He would ease, and feel his heartbeat slow, just by the littlest bit. There came a point, there came a point, when distance and impersonal words wasn’t enough. This came at a point when Artur felt more feelings run through him, feelings he didn’t know how to address, or name, except one. Except one. Especially one. One that he felt when peering over at Bellamy in class, his eyes flickering down, and wondering, softly, faintly, how it would feel to kiss someone with lips that looked as soft as those. One that he would feel whenever he’d peer over at a slumbering Bellamy, and find himself wondering how those feathery tufts would feel under his hands. One that he would feel when he’d watch deft hands work in Potions, and wonder, wonder, and wonder, how it would be like to interlink his own scrawny fingers with those fingers that look so wonderfully nice and soft. Artur wondered, for the longest time, if this was genuine feelings of friendship, or something as rosy and sweet as love. Artur naturally thought it was love. People don’t want to kiss their friends, now did they? But then there were other feelings. Feelings just as tender and soft as those feelings, but different. But not. Artur would listen to Bellamy’s night terrors, see the night’s horrors show plainly on Bellamy’s face the morning after, feel a great weight of guilt, and he’d feel the childish urge to reach out, rub under Bellamy’s eyes with his thumbs, and rub away all of Bellamy’s stress and fears. Artur would watch Bellamy read a leisure book, and feel the urge to scoot closer, until he can feel human warmth up against him, and felt secure in the knowledge that here, here, he won’t be hurt. Artur would see Bellamy curl up, in the wake of the full moon, aching and guilty and shamed, and Artur would feel the urge to crawl over, take Bellamy’s hands in his own, and wind and coil himself around Bellamy to the point where Bellamy would never have to be scared for himself or others ever, ever, ever again. Perhaps it’s friendship. Perhaps it’s love. (Perhaps it’s something darker, more horrid, more taboo and something utterly unthinkable: Trust.) But it didn’t matter, for the longest time. Because they were always going to be this way, this stagnant, in-between stage, until the end of their days. Until they weren’t. Until Artur tripped up, he tripped up, and came to sit on Bellamy’s bed, as Bellamy sat sunken and miserable after the wake of the latest full moon, in the early winter of their third year, and Artur found his mouth opening. And absolute nonsense spilling forth. Nonsense like some recent gossip that he’d heard, from a fifth year. Nonsense like the rumour that the librarian was sleeping with the mediwitch. Nonsense like the rumour that some sixth year was pregnant, and was going to give birth to a half-troll. It was garbage. It meant nothing, and it was clear to Bellamy what it was, from the very start. Blabber. Nervous, half-mad blithering. And yet, and yet, Bellamy didn’t push him away. And, by the end, when Artur had run out of rumours to spill and his voice had grown just the slightest bit raw, Bellamy sat straighter. He was still sallow, still raggied looking, but in his eyes, in his eyes, shone just the slightest bit of life, once again. And that was enough to make Artur’s heart skip and make his lips perk up in a tentative smile, and make his fingers itch for the chance to touch the soft smoothness of skin. Like a flower in the springtime, things blossomed at a quick pace. Soon, soon, whenever Bellamy would have a mood, Artur would himself sitting by his side, spilling recent rumours forth from beyond the cage of his teeth, and, once those ran out, interestings things and facts that he’d learned from a professor or books. An oddity about the English language which he had noted. An interesting British custom which he couldn’t help but marvel and puzzle over. Somehow, somehow, Artur found that the two of them grew closer. In the traditional sense, and in the physical. At first, there would be half a bed separating them. But, almost day by day, an inch would be crossed, until Artur and Bellamy would sit hip to hip, and he would feel the hitch of Bellamy’s breathing chest nary a few centimeters away. It made Artur’s skin itch even more. It made it burst into sensation and into an almost bone-deep ache which could only, only, only be sated and curbed by one sole thing. One sole, forbidden thing. When Artur’s hand, one day, brushed against Bellamy’s back, the touch as soft as the twittering of a young bird at dawn, Artur found that itch, that need, couldn’t be satiated by one, simple, soft touch. And when the touches grew into back rubs and then into the bumping of bony knees against each other and then into brushes of hands against hands and holds and teasing pushes— They still weren’t enough. They still weren’t enough. They were never, never, never enough. Artur grew cocky. He grew greedy. He took all of this in, and thought, and thought, that perhaps, just perhaps, he could be just like everyone else. Happy. Good. Someone who, perhaps, just perhaps, would die surrounded by the people who loved and cared for him. One night, Bellamy’s eyes shone with tears. One night, Bellamy’s voice sounded rubbed raw, and his shoulders were drawn so tight, that it seemed like Bellamy wanted to fold into himself and disappear. Artur climbed onto the bed, took Bellamy’s hand in his own, and smiled with so much overwhelming love that Bellamy’s breath seemed to be knocked out of him at the mere sight of him. Artur’s heart was melting into blood and into wet goo, and, in that moment, he had never felt happier, when Bellamy seemed to ease and melt right back at his touch, breath just carefully starting to even out. Bellamy told him that he was afraid that he was unnatural. That he was something wretched, and wrong and twisted and bent, in so many more ways that Artur could suspect or know. And Artur had shook his head, smiled, and said—”Why not let us see for certain?” And Artur had leaned in. And Artur found himself proven wrong. Because when he pulled back, the kiss too-soft and too-chaste and too-light but a kiss nonetheless, with his cheeks pink and ears red and body and blood as warm as a summer’s day, he found that now, he couldn’t be happier. Now, he was right. Utterly right. Because Artur would never again be as happy as he had been, in that moment. Artur would never again unfold his heart, his being, to another person like this. Artur, shining with happiness and joy and nervous confidence, found the floor falling from under him, once Bellamy’s expression remained the same. Frozen. Unsure. Shocked. That face did not melt into softness and into a smile, pale features twisting under the weight of, “I love you too,” like it did in one of Artur’s airy, dreamy fantasies. It stayed still, still, perfectly still, for the longest time, and then, it fell. It fell into shock and into something like, like, like, like—Like disgust, and into raw pity and anger and an unholy rage and— Happiness, a slick fish which he had been hunting for all of his days, who he had stalked and hunted and finally, finally, grasped, slipped out of Artur’s fingers, never to return. Leaving Artur sopping wet and cold out in the nothingness of the feral wilderness. Bellamy pulled away. And Artur was left to sit with his body open, innards throbbing and writhing under the harsh, judging light, and heart a wet, weepy wretch.

‘Why not let yourself fall, and let the cold and the dark overtake you, utterly, and completely?’ He had thought. For the longest time, he had entertained the thought, fingers and shoulders and knees utterly cold and craving human warmth, this very worst drug which he could not get over. And then, and then, as he sat with his eyes staring down blankly at a book he was supposed to finish two weeks ago, Artur found an epiphany crashing into him like a great wave in a hurricane toppling a house of twigs and paper down into splinters and nothingness.

‘Why let the water overtake you, why let that slick fish run away, why let yourself shiver and shake and melt away, when you can set fire to the water, boil the fish alive, and turn your cold, your dark, into bright, unflinching light and endless, burning heat?’

The soft springtime when flowers would bloom and things seem easy and light faded. And the summer came. It didn’t come with soft breezes, a leisurely heat, and half-melting popsicles and airy, fond talk.

It came with forest fires. With creatures dying of sun and heat stroke. With the sickly sweet scent of the dead rising so high and thick into the air that it almost seemed like one was in the sweetest fruit garden in the sweetest lands.

Springtime was over. Springtime, childhood, love, happiness, was all gone. Artur tore it all to shreds, and reveled in the destructive heat of a blistering summer without end.

And that was alright.

Artur was always meant to die hated and reviled, gurgling and wheezing, in an open field, surrounded by those struck with utter glee at the sight of him. Why not, why not, why not make his end grander?

Why not make all of them hate him so much that they will hark and crow and smash his face into the mud, with the sheer force of their hatred? Why not set fire to all of their springtimes, their forests, their lilting talks and loving eyes, so that he will die an even greater villain? If Artur was going to be a villain, why not be the very best villain he could be?

Why not make the whole world hate him and want him dead, at it? Why not? Why not?

Why work for the happy ending he will never get, when he could earn the greatest bad ending to ever be? Perhaps, just perhaps, in that, he could find a meagre form of happiness for him to grasp, and own.

((TLDR: Little (11-14 year old) Artur develops a crush on Bellamy, mostly because Bellamy is the first friend he has, and Artur just shoves all romantic and platonic feelings under the umbrella term of him just having a crush on him. But Bell and Artur aren’t that close, because it’s difficult for them to trust people. However, early-mid third year, Artur accidentally brings the relationship to a new level when he gives some comfort to Bell, and from then on, their friendship now includes physical touches, comfort, and is generally closer, which is much liked by Artur. Boy is touch starved as shit too so y’know. But, anyways, one day (late third year) Bellamy is having his sexuality crisis, and confesses it to Artur. Artur, seeing a chance to upgrade their relationship, realize his crush, and help Bellamy, leans in for a sweet smooch. But Bellamy, who only feels platonic feelings for Artur, is stunned, because his best friend has a crush on him. Artur sees Bellamy’s reaction less of a rejection of his romantic feelings, but a rejection of who Artur is, because Artur felt like he bared all of himself to Bellamy in that moment, and in the months before, utterly trusting him. And in the weeks afterwards, he floats, listlessly, and then has an epiphany. To feel better, he decides to go back to an old childhood habit, and that’s hurting others. That’s a drug, a high, he can’t come back from, and so he continues it. So, as he grows more bitter, and defensive, he withdraws from Bellamy, to the point where their friendship is broken, and modern!Artur is born, assholeness and all. Artur still believes that he is not meant to have a happy ending.))

#self para #drabble #body horror tw #//its the imagry tbh #intrusive thoughts tw #implied child abuse tw #//baby artur tries opening himself up in the wrong way. gets hurt. decides to never do it again #//goddamnit artur #//there's a tldr at the end for yall lazy folks

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