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dboliklover · 3 years

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Breathless Whispers - Shu

My new series. Will take a while to complete (don’t mind the fact I am STILL working on the Easter Smut series). It’s based off an ask I got and is very sinful and I implore everyone who is triggered by the following to NOT INTERACT WITH THIS SERIES. The tags will vary from each entry but “Breathless Whispers” is a SAKAMAKI BROTHERS X STEPMOTHER! READER Smut series. As such Cheating/Adultery and pseudo-incest/stepcest are always going to be included in the chapters.

Tags for this chapter: Stepcest/pseudo-incest, cheating, NTR (Netorare) ((Karlheinz gets cucked)), dub-con (the reader believes she has feelings for Shu), dubiously-consensual implied impregnation, mentions of pregnancy, blood, and my out-of-practice smut writing skills that border on cringe, Happy sex (?)

This is as vanilla as it’s gonna get for this series, methinks. Next chapter it’s Reiji’s turn. ;) Happy sinning ❤

WORD COUNT: 5.8K (11 pages)

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In his life, Shu learnt to try to ignore meaningless things around him and to feel as precious little as possible - he didn’t need to feel, it added no enhancement to his life. To love was to have weakness and those he loved and cared for often ended tragically.

It was only natural that he chose to stick to himself and become a solitary creature after all that he’s been through, was it not? Solitude meant safety. Slowly but surely Shu cut as many emotions away with a metaphorical knife as he could, opting instead to be careless regarding all matters. He didn’t need anyone else, just himself. Only himself.

But there was one emotion that refused to leave, one emotion he would never allow the chance to withdraw from his heart - hatred. Pure, unadulterated loathing towards the man who caused his, his brothers’ and their mothers’ tragedies - Karlheinz. The hatred he felt was coated by a layer of would-be indifference - he knew better than to challenge the man, at least for the meanwhile - memories from the North Pole haunted him still. His father was a cruel, demanding man and Shu felt abhorrence, perhaps it did not reach the hatred felt by some other brothers but it was there and undying.

Karlheinz’s largest sin of all was the pain he caused his mother - the burdens he put onto him were a close second, however. But Beatrix’s suffering still wounded Shu to think about even after so many years had passed. The guilt instilled in him from that time flowed through his veins, unrelenting. His mother had her streaks of emotionally tormenting him but after all she merely wanted to prepare him for a difficult life ahead and Shu missed her presence as demanding as it was. And that was why when his father chose to re-marry yet again, Shu felt nothing but slight pity for the bride but regardless, he felt towards her as he did with most things; wholly indifferent. That was, of course, until he got to know the woman - he recalled the wedding day, it was a boring event and the fact his appearance had to be publicly seen bothered him for he’d much rather be doing anything but - still, he did as told and attended, albeit with minimal effort.

You made for a blushing bride, he couldn’t deny that. Glamorous appearance was hardly something he heeded though, and his father was known for choosing beautiful women as his wives - you knew nothing of the terrible fate that was bound to befall you in the coming months or years. At least all the other wives were long dead, namely Cordelia (whose torments only fed into the neglect his father served his mother, furthering her agonies) so you’d have no other competitors for Karlheinz’s horrid affections. He felt nothing for you, then. But unbeknownst to him, that detachment would not last forever and soon thereafter Karlheinz sent his bride away to live with his sons: what drove his father to such a foolish decision baffled Shu and he felt it somewhat of a ploy, another experiment to conduct. Maybe it was, but then again it only wasted time and energy to speculate on what went through Karlheinz’s mind. But you were their new stepmother, not one of their sacrificial brides; that was made clear, if unspoken. You were not their shared property but the property of the vampire king and it was to be respected, even if you had a puppet authority or no true power over them.

He avoided you at first, in his mind getting to know anyone was worthless; and yet you persisted under the guise of ‘getting to know’ him and the others, wanting a relationship with your new stepsons. None of them really wanted a relationship with you, except for perhaps Reiji who hoped that you’d speak well of him to his father, ever-the-suckup.

You were a vampire of course, although it was surprising to learn that you were not a pureblood as they were. Karlheinz always made his decisions for a reason and he knew the reason for marrying you wasn’t love: therefore must’ve been something else entirely.

Karlheinz was incapable of love.

Gradually he found himself enjoying your attempted affections and voice - you figured out his disposition and chose to talk to him without expecting anything more than grunts and hums in return, knowing he preferred to listen to his music. Even he wasn’t sure at what point in your relationship he started to favour the sound of your melodious voice to his earphones, but it happened and he soon found himself turning down the volume as you spoke about your day if only to listen to your sweet voice far more vividly. He started to seek you out, something...unusual growing in his soul at the sight of you - he began appearing in places you were around the mansion, silently guarding you against the likes of the others (such as Laito). He liked being around you - a feeling he’d lost long ago ever since the “death” of Edgar - true companionship. But it couldn’t last perpetually, as nothing ever could, and those amicable feelings grew until they bloomed into something far darker than protectiveness towards his new stepmother and prospective friend - his heart yearned for you in the most unusual ways. It was troublesome for an overwhelming variety of reasons, primarily because he couldn’t have you. His romantic intentions soon turned to a subtle obsession. He needed to be close to you, always there - watching.

You’d always smile and greet him pleasantly, innocently - how on earth you could be so innocent after centuries’ worth of living on this earth, much less so after marrying Karlheinz, he had no clue. Your naivety and sweet nature brought him to you, made him fall into insanity because of you. It wasn’t instantaneous, things rarely were. Months went by but eventually he could no longer cope, his dreams were haunted by your form and always the exact same: you laid nude, breasts perfect and demure for him to corrupt, moaning out his name like the most delightful song from an ephemeral musical meant only for him. But when he awoke he was alone.

You tempted him without even knowing it but it was only a matter of time before it would come back to haunt you, he couldn’t be expected to have control over his instincts and needs forever and the time came when he finally snapped.

Stepmother or not, he was going to have you. In a way, it served as the most exquisite form of perceived vengeance towards that man - to steal his wife. He was hesitant about how to approach his desire to seduce you, such things were really more of Laito’s expertise, but he’d be damned if he failed to achieve his goals. You were too good for Karlheinz - a kindly thing to the point of intoxication and frustration, too pure for a vampire. He wanted to be the one to fully spoil your spirit, he wouldn’t permit his father to shatter your psyche as he did with all his previous wives. Shu was going to protect you, but in order to do that he first had to take you; claim you for himself. And that’s when he came across the most intriguing sight: your hushed moans of pleasure as your [slender/chubby/elegant] fingers stroked your glistening cunt in your private chambers - the same chambers which were supposed to be blessed in sacred matrimony if only his father hadn’t left you here all alone at the mercy of his ravenous sons. He must’ve assumed such a thing would happen sooner or later, hadn’t he? If not, then...well, Shu couldn’t help but think it his father’s loss from his own folly. “Shu.” Your angelic voice uttered his name - not his father’s, not your husband’s - but his. In your moment of unholy ecstasy, it was him on your mind; thoughts of him that edged you to your bliss. His obsessive passions were returned to him in kind, it seemed, and he couldn’t be more glad.

“Shu?” You questioned the following evening at dusk, that blossom-pink blush dusting your cheeks like an undead Aphrodite, tempting him further into his hidden lustful hunger, “Is...is everything okay? You’ve been staring at me all evening and I just wanted to ask if there’s something wrong-” He sighed, eyes half-lidded as if tired but it was his internal frustration revealed. “There is.” “Oh?” You pouted and fuck, he wanted to bruise your plump lips right there and then until they held his mark. “You really are more trouble than you’re worth,” It was a lie, of course, but he was a guarded man and his words reflected that. “Shu…? What do you mean?” The sadistic aspect of him was fuelled by the subtle distress in your eyes, however, you tried to remain calm, he’d said harsher things and you knew he scarcely ever meant them but something...something seemed so offbeat tonight. No, not just tonight - as of recently, but you couldn’t place a finger on the exact date when things began to change between you.

Your hands were down, pressed together as your thumbs nervously rubbed the other. You just wanted answers. “Heh,” He smirked, “You have no idea how alluring you are, do you?” His tired eyes stared earnestly into your soul and you felt stripped of your integrity. An innocent blush flooded your visage with lecherous embarrassment at such a sensual suggestion, sputtering out various syllables as you rushed to find your footing and speak out in protest of such an inappropriate topic between mother and son - that was what you were, related or not...you were his mother, even if merely by marriage. Guilt clogged your throat up as you thought of your own lust for your stepson, he was only slightly younger than you were and handsome beyond compare (as much as you loathed to admit it, your carnal self preferred Shu’s indescribable silent grace and steely blue eyes to the snowy tresses of his father) and disgust for yourself stung you deeper than a knife dipped in holy water - had he...witnessed your acts of depravity in your chambers? Did he know? “S-Shu, I...I don’t know what you mean,” You were drowning, unable to form proper words, “Don’t.” He cut you off before you could deny what you both knew at that moment. You weren’t as innocent and proper as you made yourself out to be. As you wished to be. No, you were a creature of tainted prurience and Shu was more than happy to play into your fantasies. You paled and nodded, if you were human your heart would’ve surely been palpitating by now. Fear wholly consumed you - would he be disgusted by you - no, he would’ve made that clear by now. Shu hid his thoughts and feelings from others but if he’d felt abhorrent disgust he wouldn’t have chosen to speak to you or indeed even be around you, you trusted that truth if nothing else. But then there was only one explanation for his demeanour, one that made you clench your thighs tight as you stood before him, a woman. He stood from his seat, no longer laying on the windowsill. “You’ve been a terrible wife,” Tears of crimson welled in your eyes while your knees felt weak but you nodded, ashamed. “Yes.” “And a filthy mother,” His harsh breath on your ear and neck made you whimper, “Y...yes,” You stuttered out with another whimpering moan, “Shu please don’t toy with me, I’m sorry I-” Without another sound escaping your painted lips you felt the amorous pressure of your stepson’s kiss, disclosing the intense emotions he returned for you. Your mind screamed at you for your sins and yet you were both inhuman creatures; Perpetuity of faithfulness was boresome and your husband had done little but ignore you and your hopes for a good life. Shu, however, had been there since the beginning of your marriage - even if you’d started out as nothing more than his father’s wife - now you were so much more, immensely more. Your knees buckled as you gave into the kiss, unable to avoid your feelings for him a second longer - you needed him just like this and he needed you too.

Human or not, the inherent wrongness burned your flesh and chest. You’d tried to be a good wife but your husband had practically abandoned you here with his sons bred for him by other women, he’d left you here and did little to even write to you. Loneliness was an obvious side-effect and it was only a matter of time before you would’ve fallen into another’s arms. But your debauchery brought you right into his son’s embrace. A terrible wife indeed.

Shu devoured your moans, swallowing your lust and increasing his own as his ample size grew in the confinements of his pants. “Fuck,” He huffed out as you pulled away from him, blinking. Your thighs burned with a need only he could satisfy. A shy hand wandered down his body towards his growing erection, stroking it from the fabric of his pants. Your efforts were rewarded by the sound of his deep groans. How long had it been since anyone touched you like this? Since you’d been able to make someone feel unutterable pleasure - since anyone made you feel wanted? You had slept with Karlheinz only a couple of times and he failed to sate your inner hunger as Shu was doing with only kisses and loving groans. “You’re playing with fire,” He breathed out, staring at you and sealing you in place. “I...know,” You swallowed thickly, “P-please, I...I need-” “What do you need, whore?” His teasing words of degradation made you feel alive, you were the object of his uttermost attention. His lips traced your neck, licking and gnawing but never piercing, fangs flying over the tender flesh. “You.” The certainty in your otherwise meek voice nearly made him burst right there. He was done restraining himself, pearly fangs sharper than needles pierced your neck as Shu drank the sweet nectar beneath. Your pleasured moans filled the hallways of the Sakamaki manor and he prayed his brothers could hear you wherever they were knowing that he won you. And he was going to keep you. You were going to no longer be just his stepmother - you would be his woman.

The blood, thick and plentiful, dripped down your neck. The droplets were not wasted as his tongue gathered them before they could drip onto the marble flooring. Shu was going to get addicted to this taste - your taste - he was sure of it. This was what you were made for; to belong to him. As he did this you toyed with his pants, unzipping them and releasing his erect cock from its prison, letting it spring free, wet with precum. “Oh fuck,” You whimpered at the sensation, pumping up and down his length. You wanted this, you wanted him so badly. You could feel yourself slowly dripping with clenched thighs. This was wrong - it was revolting - but you couldn’t stop the heat inside you, your inner desires. On your quest to befriend your sons you inadvertently ended up falling in love with one of them and never before had you longed to be held by someone as you did when you were with him.

You wanted to be his, no one else’s. But you couldn’t be, for you already were a taken woman; despite the truth, you wanted to succumb to your immorality; to pretend that, for tonight alone, you were his.

Once he pulled away from your neck Shu chuckled lowly, “You’re such a lewd slut, mother.” You cringed at the name, reminding yourself of the positions between you two and, for a short-lived second, you attempted to pull away except the moment you did he caged in on you, back shoved against the wall with burning eyes glaring at you. “But you’re going to be my slut from now on.” his breath hitched as your hand movements sped up, blushing crimson from your wicked sensuality. You were loving this, in all its sinfulness. “Y-Yes,” You choked out submissively as you brought him to his edge, creamy cum coating your hand and sinking into the fabric of your dress, physically tainting you. It drove you wild.

The sight of you in front of him, dress dripping with his cum made him hard almost instantly as he ordered you to strip for him after he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the empty music room - he didn’t want to be interrupted by any of his bothersome brothers.

“Strip for me.”

You nodded and bit down harshly on your lip, droplets of blood still flowing from your neck at the open puncture wound, staining the white semen-soaked fabric as you unzipped the back and slowly released your hold on it as it fell down your form until you were exposed in only your undergarments, intimate and raw. This was incredibly embarrassing and yet, for him...you didn’t mind humiliating yourself. You were convinced of it, now: you were in love with him. Soft hands twirled around to unclip your bra, feeling as though it wasn’t merely your body which you were exposing to him but your very being as your breasts bounced free from the cups’ confinements, bra forgotten as you threw it down onto the floor, not caring about anything else but him. ‘Don’t do this’, your sanity pleaded but whatever morality may have existed in the cage of your heart was extinguished with a single gaze into his yearning eyes. If you didn’t do this the lack of his touch on your skin would surely drive you insane. You just wanted to be loved, cherished and used.

You were married - and although that sentiment alone should have been enough to snap you out of this sexual haze you were trapped in, it did little to sway your lust-filled judgement. Swallowing nervously your fingers dipped below the strips of your panties, sliding down your silky thighs, pride consumed you as you watched his subtle but intense reactions, the way his thick member twitched in anticipation made you feel powerful for the first time in your life. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. “Come here,” He growled, making you squeal as you nodded like a good little whore and fell onto your knees, crawling over to him - you felt like putting on a show for him, filled with risque concupiscence. If your husband was to ever find out you feared the consequences and despite the dangers, it drove you further into the arms of his eldest son to consider how taboo, how wrong such a union was. There was something unspokenly intimate about this. An intimacy from which you never wished to awaken. As soon as you were at his feet you admired his cock, glistening from residue cum in the moonlight. “Oh God,” You were about to cross a border from which you could never return and it turned you on profoundly to think about how your relationship would develop from here. Opening your mouth, you took his length inside your warmth, (e/c) eyes staring up at him like a sweet gazelle, pumping your head up and down and twisting your tongue around him as you sucked his member with a fierce determination to please. He believed this was the closest to heaven he would ever be; you, his personal fallen angel at his feet, his cock in your mouth.

Shu thought you were perfect just like this; doing all the work as you fucked your mouth on his cock, giving him your all as he sat back, eyes fluttering shut to focus on the pleasure you were providing. You were so good for him, such a pretty girl. Such an ideal woman, his woman. Further lewd commentary fell from his lips as he prompted you on. He wanted you on your knees for him each night, and you would be. He would make sure that things would stay this way forever now he was so close to having you all to himself. Even if it meant having to fight against his father, even if it meant the most intensive of efforts and having to use all the energy he had stored in his muscles - though he’d never utter it aloud, for you he would do anything.

Even if the only way to keep you would be to commit patricide. You were worth it. Just before his release, he pulled your head back by gripping your hair forcefully causing a pained yell to escape from you, your voice full of physical anguish that set off a primal need within his chest. “That’s enough.” He then lifted your chin to look him in the eyes, “Ride me.” You gulped back the juices in your mouth and shakily stood as your thighs were flooded with slick. “Y-Yes I…” You blushed vehemently as you aligned yourself with his cock, sucking in a sharp hiss as you felt the heat of it against your burning cunt. “I want you to make me yours.” Instantly you sat down, thighs clenched as your walls adjusted to the intrusion, making you cry out in ecstasy. Did you seriously almost orgasm simply from having his length inside of you? You couldn’t be blamed - not when your husband had neglected you. But it was going to be all better now that Shu was here to help you. Just as a good stepson should. “Fuck,” He gasped out quietly, breath falling from his chest. You were so fucking tight he could’ve potentially fooled himself into believing you were still virginal. That was, of course, until he reminded himself that his father stole that honour for himself and elicited underlying rage in Shu. With the buck of his hips he drove himself inside you as you cried out his name, holding tightly onto him, arms tied around his neck as you rode him, clumsily moving your hips and revealing your sexual inexperience to him; the knowledge that his father didn’t seem to take any time cherishing your body like this, lewd and sinful, eased him somewhat because it meant he could be the one to make you completely lose your mind and become his perfect little whore.

Maybe he’d even make you his wife, along the way.

His arms held your waist and he lazily guided the movement of your hips. You were insatiable, rapid. He could tell you wanted to go faster but his strong hands consistently ceased your attempts - he was going to force you to take your time, to truly feel the way his cock filled your insides, to ensure your walls would take the shape of his dick.

He wanted you to know that he was superior to his father, that no one could ever please you better. He never felt so attached to anyone prior to you, you did something to him. Something dark. Enchanting. And he was never going to let you go after this. By giving your body to him, you have given yourself in your totality.

Even if you didn’t know it quite yet, or didn’t fully apprehend the consequences sex with him would bring.

Your whines became far more desperate with each blunt thrust. Slow, steady but forceful; Shu’s cock reached into the deepest parts of you, lovingly rubbing your cunt. It was indisputable that he was focused on your enjoyment as much as he was on his - it wasn’t anything like what sex with Karlheinz was like, he was self-gratifying and solely cared about his own high, Shu (much to your surprise) paid attention to your smallest reactions to ensure this was as great for you as it was for him. His fingers delved below and started to mercilessly torment your clit, electricity flying through your spine and cunt clenching as more love juices were produced, soaking his cock and helping to lubricate the thrusts.

He wanted to show you how mindblowing sex with him could be, to show you he could love you in ways no one else ever could. In the eyes of his brothers, especially in Reiji and Ayato’s point-of-view, he was the one who got everything; the golden, careless heir. But they did not and would never understand that he had everything he didn’t want. His entire life the things he truly yearned for were stolen from him, his happiness, his innocence, his friends and beloved companions of human and animal kind; destroyed, ruined, killed. It reared his indifference to the material goods he possessed for they held absolutely no value of their own. And now there was you. You, you, you. Sakamaki Shu knew that, without a single shred of disbelief, he would happily give up all of this if it meant he got to keep you. All the wealth and grandeur and power that his position brought was worthless in comparison to his beloved whore whimpering above him as she impaled herself on his cock.

“S-Shu,” You moaned out into his ear, “Fa...faster, please,” You choked back spit as you made feeble attempts to catch your breath, the intense friction between your joined bodies making it difficult to think. It wasn’t as rough or primal as you initially thought it would be like, it was...better than that, intimate. Was this what they mean when they say sex can be ‘making love’? This closeness between bodies as they become one, the heat and passion in the air and bouncing breasts and thighs clasped around one’s lover? It wasn’t fucking - it was so much more. A proclamation of love, even, though you could never dare and utter that belief out loud. His self-satisfied comments, “Hm,” He playfully paused completely, making your eyes widen as you stared at him with desperation for him to continue, to let you reach your climax. Your nails scratched his back like a needy brat as you cried out pleas, “Please - please Shu, I need you to keep going I-” You swallowed thickly, blinking wildly as your core ached without movement and he kept your hips down, unable to fuck yourself on his dick regardless of how hard you tried. “Say you love me.” “W-What?” You gasped out, sweaty and needy but with enough common sense to know that saying something like that to him - even if it was true - would seal a secret deal between lovers, it would open all the nightmares of your very own Pandora’s Box.

But you loved him - you did, somewhere along the way you became enamoured by your stepson and now he was inside of you, fucking you with a tenderness that made you sure that he must love you, too. “I…” You smiled weakly, genuinely. You pulled back ever-so-slightly, (e/c) eyes sinking into his. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that he was finally permitting you to see; he trusted you with his heart, you could see that now. Your hand stroked his cheek, his hard dick still throbbing inside of you (you knew he wanted to keep going but held himself back, resolved to get what he wanted out of you). He melted into the caress, your hands were soft as angel feathers. “I am in love with you, Sakamaki Shu.” Despite the arousal that filled your mind you earnestly tried to convey the true depth of your affections for him and it seemed to awaken the beast of passion as he soon started to bounce you up and down his thick, throbbing member at a speed only vampires could achieve, determined to claim your womb for his own.

It wasn’t hard to notice your maternal longings, your desire to baby the boys despite their inherent aggression towards you all but proved it. And if was a baby you wanted, well...who was he to deny you of that right? His hushed grunts only sent you further into ecstasy - You had the power of feminine sexuality over him and it gave you somewhat of a power rush. It was paradise - not worthless fucking like animals - but true divinity here in his arms, where you felt appreciated and loved and as though you finally had a raison d’etre - You wanted to be his so badly it caused you physical anguish but you were his if only for the moment, connected to him so snugly. “I love you,” You sobbed out as tears welled in your eyes from the intense satisfaction and your own emotions coming to the surface, “I love you, I love you,” Each word sent Shu into a brand new dimension of rapture. You loved him, you loved him - more than anyone else in this world. If binding your bodies together didn’t officially make you his your whimpering confessions just did. The urge to impregnate you with his seed only grew with every passing moment as you mechanically moved in perfect timing to his thrusts, nails once again clawing at his flesh. “That’s a-” He inhaled sharply, stopping mid-moan, “That’s a good girl,” He breathed heavily, you felt so perfect on his dick, his personal cockslut, the love of his life, stepmother and soon; the mother of his children. “F-Fuck you’re going to look...fucking amazing,” He sighed out as he felt your fluttering walls try their hardest to milk him, “When you’re swollen with my troublesome brats, heh…” He could only smugly smile at your immediate reaction to the statement being to clunch down on him, tightening as if your womb was begging him to cum inside, to fertilise your pussy and breed you over and over. “Pregnant?” You exhaled out, teary-eyed as you locked your eyes with him, fucked out to the high heavens with sweat causing your hair to stick to your reddened forehead and lipstick smudged with perky, puffed lips. “Yo-You want to get me pregnant…?” The timidity of your voice betrayed your excitement. Logically you wanted to escape, to push him away and scold him for even suggesting such a thing - you couldn’t become pregnant with his child! It was atrocious enough that you were currently having this affair with him, your stepson, but to be bred by him was in a category all of its own - truly disgusting.

No matter how much your husband neglected you he didn’t deserve to for his wife to not only cheat on him with his own son but to be inseminated by him - but the inner beast within you was wanton, a silent whisper in your mind that tried to persuade you to surrender fully to your hopes for motherhood, to allow this man in front of you, this beautiful vampiric prince, to fill you with his seed and claim you as his bitch, his bride; to be stolen from the man you originally wed and live your eternity as Shu’s whore. “I-...we can’t, Shu! We-” Morals renewed, you tried to get through to him, “Please-” “Shut up.” He ordered and you instantly did as told, being the good girl that you were. “Don’t lie to me. You’re loving the-” He moaned, “-idea of...of my children growing inside of you. I felt you tighten up at the notion, you’re such a fucking lewd woman. My lewd slut.” You hated yourself because you knew he was right; it was true. You wanted this so badly, to give birth to his kin, to feel your uterus painted white with his cum. Primal needs craved relief. “No, we...we can’t, I...don’t…” You choked on your words as he kissed you roughly, his thumb on your clit twirling and pulling until you were unable to form anything more coherent than mindless stutters. “S-Shu! Fuck, fuck, fuck I...I...I love you! I do! I do, please I just...I want-” “What do you want, pretty whore?” “...I want, I w….want your cum! I need it, I need you to fill me up and get me pregnant!” The last remainder of your will crumbled under the pressure of your sudden orgasm. ‘I’m so sorry, Karl…’ you thought bitterly as amazement overtook you, making you screech in the midst of the night in the moonlight, squeezing the lifeforce out of your stepson’s dick. Shu groaned and laughed in dark victory as you came undone around him, biting into his neck instinctively mid-orgasm. The sharp sensation was enough to push him completely over the edge.

Your tongue lapped over his neck, sipping the blood that flowed with delicious fervour as the heat of his semen poured into your deepest depths, coating your womb with his lust. Once you pulled away you felt almost faint from the intensity of your love-making, concupiscence fading as the realisation of what you just did hit you in full force, causing your eyes to open. “Shu..oh fuck, I...we...just--” You squealed and tried to hop off but he kept your hips forced down, still inside your leaking cunt despite slowly growing soft. “No.” Shu was serious, now, eyes grave. “You’re not running away. You,” He exhaled, bringing your lips closer to his, “Are mine.” “Shu-” The distance between your lips was closed as he fought with your tongue. Your heart yearned to return his kiss and despite the inner war ongoing within your soul you did, tongues dancing in the warmth of your mouth. When he pulled away he smiled.

And you felt yourself smile too, hand travelling to the spot below your stomach but above your cunt. “You’re mine now, troublesome woman.” You laughed, nodding and kissed him again. The conflict within you wouldn’t fade, and you were terrified of what might happen now to yourself and to Shu. But maybe it won’t be that bad. It was only one time - you can surely find some form of birth control to ingest before the next time, and he’d never have to know. It was...one time, so you shouldn’t get pregnant this time...right?

Somehow you felt proud - proud to have his cum flowing from your core, to know it’s his seed that potentially is currently fertilising you and not your husband’s. You did feel authentically guilty but the guilt made you more aroused. Karlheinz didn’t deserve...this and despite that here you were, and the worst part was you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop anytime soon, there was no point in vowing to yourself that this would be the ‘last time’ because you knew that the moment he came inside you you were already addicted to him. The child of your lover...realistically it was an awful, unspeakable idea but a sense within you wanted to go through with it, to allow yourself fertility, to fully become his.

Little did you know you would have no choice in the matter.

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heyitssmiller · 4 years

Text

Clandestine: Chapter Four

The espionage boys go to Slytherin. Chaos ensues.

Content Warning: Some violence towards the end.

@lumosinlove

Clandestine Masterlist

Finn reached over the center console of the car to grab some M&Ms from the bag in Logan’s lap. Logan slapped his hand away playfully, not taking his eyes off the Slytherin police station they were parked down the road from. “Why don’t you eat your own snacks?”

“They’re salty and I wanted something sweet.” Finn said with a shrug, popping one of the candies into his mouth and grinning.

Leo sighed from the backseat, letting his head rest against the window with a thunk. He stared out at the full moon as a lonely cloud passed in front of it, moving fast. It was the most interesting thing he’d seen all night. “Why didn’t y’all tell me stakeouts were so boring? This is horrible.”

“But we’ve learned so much already!”

Finn got an arched blond eyebrow in response. “Have we?”

“We’re downtown, so we’re going to have to be extra careful about being seen. Shift change is at 6 pm, so we need to avoid that time frame as much as we can. There’s fewer people on the night shift, so our best bet is to wait until nighttime.” Logan rattled off, still not looking away from the building. “There’s a side door on the west side of the building, so that’ll be your best bet when you need to break in. I can see at least one security camera there, so Loops is going to need to help you out.”

Finn motioned to Logan dramatically. “That’s how you do it, Peanut Butter. Take notes.”

“I had lots of practice, keeping an eye out while you guys were off being bank robbers.” Logan grumbled good-naturedly, grabbing an M&M for himself.

Finn hummed thoughtfully. “Robbers is a bad way of putting it, don’t you think? You make us sound so evil.”

“I mean, you’re also technically an arsonist.”

“That was one time. And the other bank heist went off without a hitch.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that you set a trash can on fire.” Leo piped up, giving Logan a high-five when he held his hand out.

“I knew I liked you for a reason, Nut.”

Leo really tried his best not to read into that statement. He grabbed the small lock in his pocket and fidgeted with the dial to distract himself. He didn’t mean it like Leo thought he did. Like he wanted him to. Besides, that would be so complicated, wouldn’t it? Being a spy was messy in and of itself. Dating two other spies - who were his partners - would be a whole other level of chaos.

But that didn’t make him want it any less.

Which was also ridiculous. He’d known them for, what? Maybe a month? Why did his heart always decide to move at such breakneck speeds?

“Do you two have to always gang up on me?” Finn asked with a sigh, snapping Leo back out of his thoughts. “What did I ever do to deserve it?”

“Don’t take it personal, O’Hara. You’re just so fun to tease.” Finn threw a barbecue-flavored chip at Logan, causing him to laugh and eat it.

“How long do stakeouts usually last?” Leo asked, desperate to change the subject to something - anything - less hazardous for his heart.

“Until we have all the information we need.”

“And how do we know when that is?”

Logan shrugged. “Depends on the case. I’d like to stay and see when the next shift change is, just to be safe.”

Leo groaned and settled back in to wait.

***

“So how are we doing this?” Finn asked the next morning as they all sat around the table in the briefing room, propping his chin in his hand. “Sneak Leo in through an air vent? Although you might be too tall for that, Nut. Blow a hole in the wall and steal the whole safe? Create a story like the bank heists?”

“It’ll have to be a distraction again.” Sirius said, looking to Loops for confirmation. “The longer we can fly under Riddle’s radar, the better. The other four drives are on Riddle, in his office, or with trusted gang members. If he starts getting suspicious now, he’ll go on lockdown and we don’t stand a chance at getting the rest of the drives.”

“He’s right.” Remus agreed. “Plus there’s way too many officers in the precinct at any given time. Since the safe is in the evidence room, we can’t risk anyone coming in there and catching Leo red-handed – they’d shoot you on sight, no questions asked.”

Logan watched the color drain from Leo’s face and turned to send Remus a glare. Of course this job was risky – if you didn’t think so, you were a naïve idiot. Getting caught or shot or killed was just a part of the job and as a spy, you had to learn to live with that. But that didn’t mean you had to scare rookies about it right before a big, high-risk mission.

Remus noticed his glare, but simply ignored it and looked away. “Here’s what I’m thinking. There’s another, smaller gang in Slytherin, right?” At Sirius’ nod, he continued. “If we can place an anonymous tip on their location, that all but guarantees a full holding cell inside the precinct. Plus it gets another gang off the streets, so it’s a win-win. Logan, if you can get yourself arrested for something small – public indecency or drunken disorderly or something – you’ll be put in that holding cell too.”

Logan leaned forwards, excitement coursing through him. “I like where this is going.”

“I don’t.” Finn stated plainly. It was his turn to glare at Loops.

“If you can start a fight in there, you can get a majority of the officers’ attentions. Especially if it’s at night when the staff is smaller and more likely to be tired. Leo can slip in the side door unnoticed, get into the evidence room, grab the flash drive, and get out.” Remus raked a hand through his hair, looking thoughtful. “It’s more complicated than the banks, but it should work just fine.”

“That’s the plan?” Leo asked dubiously. “Try to start a riot in a holding cell, hope that all the officers get distracted, steal the flash drive, and then just wait for Logan to be released in the morning? There’s so many things that could go wrong.”

He was right - there was a lot riding on nothing but chance. Sadly, that was part of the territory of working in espionage; it was one of the only things the James Bond movies got right. You had to take risks in order to get results sometimes. Leo’s job was all about planning and precision. He knew exactly how to execute his mission and there usually weren’t any hiccups as long as he had the right tools with him and enough time. Not much risk-taking involved in cracking safes. So he’d probably never been a part of a plan with so many aspects up in the air.

He’d also never seen Logan in action.

“Never doubt my ability to start a fight.” Logan said with a grin. “Man, I’m so excited to go on a mission where I’m not stuck in the car.”

“I want to go with you.” Finn said firmly, leaving no room for argument. His gaze was fierce and determined and if Logan didn’t know him already, he’d probably be just a little bit scared. It was kind of hot. “I don’t like you being in there by yourself.”

Remus looked at him, clearly surprised. “I thought you didn’t like fights.”

“I don’t. But I’m not leaving my partner in there to fend for himself. Hell no.”

Logan ignored the way his heart sped up and asked, “You don’t want to go with Leo? Be a lookout?”

“Normally I’d say yes, but if someone does end up seeing him, one person raises less suspicion than two.” Finn said with a shrug. “It’ll also be easier to start a fight with two people.”

“If you’re getting arrested in Slytherin, you’ll need disguises.” Remus said, looking the cubs over. “They’ll take mugshots of you at the station. We can’t risk it.”

“Ok, so who do we go to for that?”

“Ooh!” Leo piped up with a happy, unfairly adorable smile. “I actually know this one!”

***

When they entered the disguise office the following day a woman with long, blonde hair looked up at them from a rapidly moving sewing machine. Finn feared for her fingers as they inched closer to the bobbing needle, but she barely batted an eye as she took her foot off the pedal and smiled in delight when she spotted Leo. “Nutty! How’s it going?”

Leo smiled back and gave her a warm hug. He looked like he gave good hugs, Finn thought. All tall and long-limbed like that. “Hey, Nat. Good to see you.”

“Kasey told me you’re on a mission. Look at you, all official and taking down the Snakes!” She stood on her tiptoes to ruffle his hair. “So grown up!”

“Stop.” Leo laughed, taking a step back and dodging her hand. “Y’all treat me like I’m twelve.” He seemed to remember Logan and Finn were with him and his cheeks turned red as he looked over at them. “Uh, guys this is Natalie. Nat, these are my partners Finn and Logan.”

“Nice to meet you boys.” She said, shaking both their hands. “So you’re here for disguises?”

Finn nodded, then started explaining the premise of their op, watching Natalie a bit nervously as she looked him over thoroughly. It was a bit unnerving, even when he knew it was just to get a good idea of what she needed to do for a disguise. Her gaze was calculating, like she could figure out everything about them with a single look.

Maybe she could.

Finally, she spoke up. “We’ll have to change that hair. How do you feel about wash-out hair dye? Normally I’d just give you a wig, but if you’re getting in a fight it could get pulled off. And you.” She turned to Logan, taking a second to look him over. “I have so many ideas for you. I have a feeling you’re going to love it. Oh, and Nut?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got a cop uniform that should fit you.”

He bit back disappointment. Finn was dyeing his hair, (which was a bit of a tragedy, really – Leo thought his hair was really pretty, especially out in the sun) Logan was doing who knows what, and all Leo got was a uniform? “Oh. Ok.” He looked over at his partners. “I’ll meet you back in the bullpen?”

“Sounds good.” Logan responded. As soon as Leo closed the door behind him, Natalie faced Logan again with a wicked smile.

“How do you feel about tattoos?”

***

Logan and Finn found Leo having a staring contest with a small, god-awful painted eagle paperweight on Finn’s desk.

“I see you’ve met Brad!” Finn said happily, giving the eagle a pat on the head and startling Leo in the process. He seemed to jump a foot in the air before he realized Finn wasn’t a threat.

“I’m pretty sure it’s haunted.” Leo said, looking away from it slowly. Those beady little eyes seemed like they were staring into his soul and finding it wanting. “I’m from New Orleans, I can tell- holy shit.” He said when he caught sight of his partners.

Finn’s hair was dark brown, his freckles tragically hidden from view. Natalie had also done some makeup magic to accentuate different lines of his face, changing his profile and making him barely recognizable. Logan’s hair was now a dirty blonde. Both of his arms and one collarbone were littered with dark, swooping ink in varying different shapes and patterns. They were both wearing more casual clothes than Leo had ever seen them in, looking soft and comfy instead of like polished, professional spies.

“If I wasn’t expecting it, I’m not sure I could recognize you.” Leo said slowly, trying to get his brain back up and running as he gently grabbed one of Logan’s arms and turned it this way and that, looking at the tattoos in awe. They looked so real.

Logan grinned. “Yeah, Nat’s a pro.” He followed Leo’s gaze down at his fake tattoos wistfully. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a spy, just so I could get tattoos.” He couldn’t have anything about him be easy to recognize as a covert operative – it would make him too easy to track down and get compromised. Tattoos unfortunately fell into that category. His eyes landed on the eagle paperweight Leo was staring down earlier. He laughed. “O’Hara, what the fuck is that?”

“It’s Brad! My brother is a spy, too – works out of Tampa. When I joined, we created this competition: whoever brought in the most criminals in a year got to keep Brad on their desk.” Finn preened, looking fondly at the creepy eagle. “Yours truly has the honor this year.”

Leo glared at it mistrustfully. “That thing needs to be burned. Or I could smoke it out with sage for you. I’ve got some from Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo back home. That’ll get rid of the spirit for sure.”

Finn gasped in horror. “How dare you? Brad is a treasure and deserves to be protected at all costs.”

“I strongly disagree.”

“It is not haunted, it’s a symbol of being a winner-”

“As much as I’m loving this conversation,” Logan interrupted, looking amusedly between his partners. “We should probably get going if we want to get to Slytherin in time. Loops already placed the anonymous tip about the other gang, so we’re all set. Ready?”

“Ready.” Finn echoed, giving Brad one last loving pat for good luck before heading towards the door, Logan by his side. Leo picked up his pace to walk alongside the other two.

“Please don’t make me sit in the backseat again.”

“But you’re the rookie.”

“I’m also the tallest. You try being stuck with your knees to your chest for a several hour road trip. Not fun.”

***

Finn laughed as Logan stumbled during their “drunken meandering” in the park near the Slytherin precinct and threw an arm around his shoulder. He spotted a uniformed officer talking on his phone a few yards away, apparently on break. He knew Leo was also out there somewhere, keeping tabs on them and relaying information to Sirius and Loops. Since Finn and Logan were getting arrested, they didn’t want to be caught with mics and earpieces on them. That would really raise suspicions and get their cover blown for sure. So Leo was keeping an eye on them now and Loops would do the same via the security cameras once they were both inside the precinct.

“There’s an officer to our left.” Finn said, leaning close to Logan to murmur into his ear and knocking their heads clumsily together. He could just barely see the curve of Logan’s smile from that vantage point, almost taunting him with how easy it would be to press a kiss there. Just a slight movement of his chin and he could do it. Refraining took all of Finn’s willpower.

He moved away. “Now all we need to do is get his attention and get ourselves arrested.”

Logan leaned in close and eliminated all the space Finn had just put between them, green eyes bright and mischievous and luminous under the artificial light of a nearby streetlamp. “I’ve got an idea.”

Finn simply stared. “Huh?”

“You know how I hate the police?” The brunet-turned-blond asked, grabbing Finn’s hands and walking backwards. Finn followed the siren’s call without hesitation. If he crashed into the rocks and sank because of him – well. Drowning would be worth it.

He had to urge his brain to focus and vaguely remembered that conversation from New Year’s and the rant about abuse of power that came with it. Even drunk off his ass, Logan had made some very good points. “Yeah.” Finn glanced over Logan’s shoulder as they approached the parked police car.

“We’re really going to piss them off today. Go with it.” Were the last words out of Logan’s mouth as he backed himself up against the police car, pulled Finn flush against him, and crashed their lips together. Finn barely missed a beat before he was kissing back, moving a hand up to cradle the back of Logan’s head. On New Year’s – when Finn was convinced Logan was going to kiss him but didn’t – Finn imagined what kissing him would be like. He pictured it soft, tantalizing, and teasing, just like the rest of their night had been. It was somewhat like that, and yet Finn was still off by miles. This kiss was a lot of things – it was warm and feisty and absolutely addictive – but soft didn’t fit the description at all. Logan kissed enthusiastically, if not a little sloppily. Finn couldn’t really tell if that was part of the drunk ruse or not.

Fuck, this was a con. It wasn’t real. This was for the mission, and nothing else.

But then why did it feel so real?

Finn pushed the thoughts away as he angled his head and deepened the kiss, inhaling sharply through his nose as he only then remembered the necessity that was breathing. He might not get this opportunity again, so he was going to use this chance to make Logan weak in the knees. Finn’s brain knew it was a horrible idea, but he wanted Logan to remember this, to think about it before he went to bed that night and wonder what if. If they weren’t spies or partners or on the biggest operation of their entire careers, what if he could have this?

If this was the only time Finn would ever get to kiss Logan, he was also going to make sure he remembered every tiny detail: the way Logan’s breath hitched when he bit down on his bottom lip, the feel of cold hands slipping under his sweatshirt, the rise and fall of his chest against Finn’s.

“Hey now!” A gruff voice shouted, grabbing Finn’s shoulder and pulling the two apart. “Cut it out.”

Finn staggered back – which was not an act. He was just that off balance, mind reeling. The police officer was glaring at him sternly, looking very annoyed. Finn shrugged carelessly, letting his words slur. “I would say sorry, but I mean – come on. Look at him. Can you blame me?”

Leo watched from his vantage point on a nearby park bench, something twisting painfully in his chest.

He could admit he was jealous – that was the easy part. But he wasn’t jealous in a way that made any sense. He was jealous of both of them. He wanted both of them. And yeah, it was a con and they were just making out to get the officers’ attentions, but it sure looked genuine. There were some things you just couldn’t fake.

The way Logan was gazing at Finn was one of them.

Of all people, he had to catch feelings for spies. Not just one spy – two. Two spies who may or may not have feelings for each other.

Fuck.

This is what I get for letting myself speculate, I guess.

“Leo?” Remus’ voice asked through his earpiece. “What’s going on?”

Leo focused back on the mission at hand and forced his voice to stay even. “They’re, uh, making out against a cop car.”

Sirius laughed loudly, while Remus just sighed long-sufferingly. “That’s one way to do it, I guess.”

“They’re egging the cop on, now.” Leo said, watching as Logan’s shoulders tensed and he said something harsh to the cop. “Looks like it won’t be long.”

Sure enough, the cop whipped out his handcuffs and motioned for Leo’s partners to turn around and put their hands behind their backs. They were loaded into the back of the cop car, and Leo allowed his eyes to follow it as it drove off towards the precinct before getting to his feet and walking in the same direction. “They’re on their way. Let me know when all the action starts.”

“Copy that.”

The good thing about being on a mission was that Leo didn’t really have time to internally reflect or try and decipher his feelings. He had a job to do. He couldn’t afford to mess this up because he was too busy stuck in his own head.

He did, however, assume he had enough time to not rush his walk to the precinct. Finn and Logan still needed to be searched, booked, and put in the holding cell before they could even think of starting the riot. So he kept his gait slow and let himself get lost in the sound of the wind sweeping through the trees and the rustle of dead leaves as they danced across the sidewalk.

He shoved a hand in his pocket, finding the old, worn, familiar lock there and fiddled with the dial.

***

Things in the holding cell were… not exactly going to plan.

First of all, there were about half the number of gang members in the holding cell than they anticipated. This wasn’t great, but it wasn’t the end of the world either. It might be harder to get everyone in the precinct to pay attention, but Finn was still confident in their ability to cause a scene. Then it got stranger.

The gang members were absolutely delightful.

Three were sitting by Logan, sharing stories behind their numerous tattoos and rolling up their sleeves to show off more ink. Four more were in a cuddle puddle in one of the corners of the cell, trying to get some sleep. One was even sitting by Finn, although he had made no attempt to strike up a conversation or anything. Finn was usually pretty comfortable with his height – he was tall, by most people’s standards. But the guy sitting next to him was huge. He was at least three inches taller than Leo, and easily twice as broad. With an unreadable face made of stone, the guy was also practically impossible to get a read on. Finn figured he needed to do something to get the ball rolling. Poor Nutter Butter would be stuck outside all night at this rate.

So he braced himself, turned to the guy next to him, and said, “Hey.”

Not his best conversation starter.

The guy looked at him strangely. Finn decided to keep going. “I’m Finn.”

“Tanner.”

“How’s your night going, Tanner?”

Tanner seemed to think Finn was certifiably insane. “Well, seeing that I’m currently in jail, not great.”

“Right… right.” Finn trailed off, cringing internally. He was so off his game tonight. Of course, he knew why, but that didn’t make it any easier to snap out of it. All he could think of was pressing Logan against a cop car and how much he wanted to do it again. But it wasn’t that simple-

“Are you ok?” Finn looked back up at Tanner, who shrugged stiffly. “You seem a little stressed.”

Finn thought about it, then decided fuck it. He’d never see this guy again. And who would Tanner tell? He blurted out, “I kissed my coworker today.”

Tanner blinked, then leaned back against the wall. “Ok.”

“I don’t think he feels the same way.”

He didn’t even bat an eye and the whole being attracted to the same gender thing. His face still revealed nothing. Finn couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. “Did he kiss you back?”

“Well, yeah.” Finn said, glancing across the cell at Logan and thinking back on the feeling of those lips pressed against his, the texture of the soft curls beneath his fingertips.

“Then what the fuck is the holdup?”

Finn sighed, looking back at Tanner. “It’s not that simple.”

“Look. He either likes you or he doesn’t. What good does it do you to keep guessing when you could get a definitive answer by just asking him? Everyone seems to forget how simple things are when you break them down into components. It’s just simple communication, dude. That’s it.”

“But-” Finn stopped short, taking a second to think when he was struck with a realization. It wasn’t out of the blue, nor was it completely surprising. It still felt like getting hit by a fucking train, though.

Tanner let him stay silent for a second, then prodded curtly, “But?”

“I… I think I might have feelings for another of my friends, too.” Finn thought of sunny blond hair, kind blue eyes, and a warm, dimpled smile.

Shit.

“You know polyamorous relationships are a thing, right?” Tanner sat up straighter, looking at Finn eagerly. It was the first emotion Finn had seen on his face, and also strangely endearing. “I have a ton of articles I can send you if you’re interested.”

Finn couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. “Thanks, man. I think I might have to wait it out, though. We all work together and it would get so complicated so fast. Maybe once we finish the project we’re working on together.”

Tanner followed his eyes across the cell to Logan. Finn hadn’t even realized he was staring at him again. “Is that the one you kissed or the other one?”

Finn arched an eyebrow, which the gang member snorted at. “You aren’t subtle, bud.”

“That’s the one I kissed. Well, he kissed me, if we’re being technical. But I don’t think he meant it. It was kind of a – a dare, I guess you could say.”

Tanner’s face turned stormy. “He did what now?”

Finn frantically started to backtrack. “It’s fine. I mean, I’m not mad or anything-”

Tanner stood up and pointed angrily at Logan. “You!” He bellowed, voice like thunder. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Logan looked from Tanner to Finn, then back to Tanner, brow knitting in confusion. “What?”

“Did no one teach you about consent you little piece of-”

And then Tanner drew back his fist and slammed it into Logan’s cheek in a brutal cross hit. Silence rang through the holding cell as Logan reeled backwards, raising a hand to his cheek, which was already red. When he looked up at Tanner again, his eyes were a combination of furious and excited.

It looked like they were getting their fight now.

Finn managed to get out the words “holy shit” before all hell broke loose.

Logan threw the next punch, aiming for the stomach first and then the temple when Tanner doubled over, knocking the breath out of him. One of the other gang members took offense to that on Tanner’s behalf and went after Logan, who dodged the first swing easily and collided his fist into the guy’s nose.

The three gang members who were talking about tattoos with Logan instantly jumped to back him up, while the four who were sleeping leapt to their feet and tried to make sense of the situation. There was a charged energy in the air, an undercurrent of adrenaline and anger mingling with it.

Finn hated fights. They were messy and ugly and painful. Plus he was a conman – if his face was all beat up and bruised, no one would trust him and he’d never get any of his jobs done. So he tried to avoid them as much as he could, but he didn’t think he was getting out of this one.

Logan turned his fiery gaze on Finn, making him take an aborted step backwards before he realized this was the plan. They were supposed to be starting a fight. Finn wasn’t sure he could fight his partner, though. Especially since he’d kissed the guy just shy of two hours ago. Luckily he didn’t have to think too hard about it, because Tanner was back on his feet and charging at Logan, along with two other gang members.

Logan moved like the ocean when he fought – smooth and fluid, but also unpredictable and dangerous and wild. He also clearly knew exactly what he was doing, how to exact the most damage on his opponents. He used his size to his advantage by punching upwards and using his leg muscles to land harder punches. With shorter limbs like that, his blows were quick, effective, and brutal. Logan also seemed to be a southpaw, delivering brutal body shots directly to the liver.

It was absolutely mesmerizing.

Unfortunately, Finn was too busy watching Logan to notice the guy coming towards him until he was tackled forcibly to the ground. His head smacked the concrete floor painfully, stunning him for a brief second. When the spots disappeared from his field of vision, he looked up at the guy standing over him.

“Fuck you, man.”

***

“Nut, you’re good to go.” Remus said as he watched cops swarm the holding cell. “I’ll keep an eye out for any stragglers that might catch you.”

“Thanks.” Leo said, and Remus watched the security footage of the side door as Leo crouched by it and began picking the lock. Sirius looked over his shoulder and whistled lowly.

“Damn, Tremblay’s got some moves.”

Remus briefly switched his gaze over to the footage of the holding cell before scanning the hallways for stray officers. “That’s kind of his thing. He gets sent into situations where things are dicey and people need some sense knocked into them.”

“Maybe he should teach O’Hara. He’s already on the ground.”

“What?” Leo asked, sounding concerned as he unlocked the door and slipped inside. “Is he ok?”

Remus watched Finn climb to his feet and face the guy who knocked him down, getting into an admittedly terrible fighting stance. “He’s fine. Head straight down that hallway. The evidence room is the last door on your left.”

“I hate not knowing what’s going on.” Leo muttered, creeping effortlessly down the hall. “Now I understand why Logan hated the bank missions so much.”

Sirius was watching the action in the holding cell eagerly. “I think this mission more than makes up for those. He’s having a blast. Look at him go! He’s a little ball of rage.”

Leo laughed under his breath as he broke into the evidence room seemingly effortlessly. “Ooh, you’d better not let him hear you say that.”

Remus frowned, watching the blond locate the safe and crouch in front of it. Something about him was… off. He’d seemed fine earlier, but now he seemed subdued. His voice was carefully controlled and even, a blank mask on his face.

So the question was: what had happened between 10 am and now that made him feel like he had to distance himself?

The safe opened within a few minutes. Leo switched out the flash drives and pocketed the real one, closing the safe again and rising to his feet. “Headed out now.”

“Coast is clear.” Remus said, looking back at the holding cell. The officers were pulling people apart and seemed to be getting things back under control. “Good timing – looks like the fight is wrapping up. Now all you’ve got to do is pay their bail after a little while and hit the road.”

“Perfect. That’s the easy part.”

Paying bail, it turned out, was not the easy part.

After what felt like the thirtieth time he’d signed a fake name on the forms and having to jump through countless hoops, Leo still had to wait over an hour until Finn and Logan were processed and released. So he sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the lobby and waited. And waited. And waited.

When his partners finally walked through the doors, Leo did a double-take. He knew they’d been in a fight, but good lord.

“Y’all look like shit.” He said, taking in Logan’s bruised cheek, the way Finn was cradling his left arm to his chest, and their overall rumpled appearances. He also noticed the way they were steadfastly refusing to look at each other.

Logan snorted. “Thanks, Peanut.”

Leo shrugged, holding his hands up defensively. “I’m just telling the truth here. Don’t kill the messenger.”

“Let’s go home.” Finn said wearily as he led the way outside and towards their car, limping slightly. “I think I might be allergic to this makeup. It’s starting to itch.”

Later that night, when they were all in their separate apartments scattered across the city, all three of them faced a restless night of staring up at their ceilings and wondering, in some variation or another, what if.

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #clandestine #cw: violence

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years

Text

For the Flame Always So Loved the Stars - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Kara Kent, Clark Kent, Lois Lane Pairing: jondami Summary: Nothing stays the same forever. But fairytales always end the same way. A/N: This is just a whole fucking lot of self-indulgent garbage. Takes place over 5 years, Damian is 18-23, and Jon is 15-20. The last section is just their superhero way of saying ‘I love you and always will.’ but like. Subtly. I wrote this for myself, but I’m pleased with how it came out, so I hope you like it too. Sorry not sorry for literally the first line of this fic haha. The legend was googled so I took the most similar parts in all the wikis I read. I ignored the part where they all said ‘their story always ends in tragedy and betrayal’ but I’m going for happy endings dammit.

Dick Grayson died when Damian was eighteen.

He wasn’t there. No one from the family was. It was a simple carjacking gone wrong. A single bullet, straight to the chest, from a scared kid who thought completing the initiation to the local gang was his only option to survive in this life.

It was almost funny. A single bullet. No poison, no torture. No evil mastermind, or world-ending apocalypse. No battles against armies, or lives and loves at stake. Not anything they dealt with daily.

Just an old car with a purse left on the passenger seat that someone saw. Just a weak spot in aged armour that was going to be replaced in the next year or so.

Just a single bullet.

Damian doesn’t remember much from after he was told, after he came home from class and found his siblings and Stephanie waiting for him in the parlor. He remembered knowing it must have been bad; Tim’s face was blotchy, his eyes red-rimmed and he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

Stephanie was the one who told him. Cassandra held his hand. But that was about it. That was all his mind supplied.

That, and the fact that his first thought after being told was: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Not fair because Dick was the best of them, in every way. Because he was funny, smart, kind, and every single thing a hero should be. A good person.

Not fair because Damian only got eight years with him, his closest confidante, one of his only friends. Because Damian decided at age ten that a world without Dick Grayson was not one he wanted to live in, and yet here he was, in the worst reality he could think of.

He doesn’t remember much from after he was told. He remembers Stephanie saying: “Dick died, Damian.” He remembers thinking: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Then...he remembers a pain in his knees. Remembers blinking and finding himself staring at the floor, which was much closer than it should have been. He remembers his sister kneeling in front of him, allowing him to press his forehead into her shoulder. Remembers Jason next to him, rubbing his back, asking if they should get him water, or take him upstairs.

He remembers hearing Tim sob, and that might be the most memorable thing of the moment, because his body registered that that’s what he wanted to do too, he wanted to cry.

But he couldn’t, because you don’t cry over things that weren’t real. And that’s obviously why he collapsed, why he couldn’t form words to come out of his mouth, why his mind was refusing to remember this moment.

Because it wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

Jon was antsy. Nervous.

Alfred had called days ago to inform him and his parents what had happened. And Jon had already been halfway out the door when the butler interjected to request that none of them visit, not right now. The Waynes and their closest companions were grieving, and needed to be alone.

And he hated that – he hated being away from Damian on a good day, but now, when Damian was going to need him? It was pure agony.

So two weeks later, when Clark gave him the okay, he took off to Gotham faster than he ever had before, and bypassed every bit of security measures that Bruce asked him to complete upon arriving.

He found Damian in the cemetery, and he had a feeling it was a place Damian didn’t often leave anymore.

Jon said nothing as he approached. Just plopped next to Damian and silently wrapped his arms around the other’s neck. Damian didn’t say anything either, but he leaned gratefully into the embrace, reaching up to cling to Jon’s forearm.

“I’m so sorry.” Jon whispered, leaning back. He didn’t leave Damian’s personal space, though. Kept their shoulders touching, knees keeping each other warm. “I…I don’t know what else to say. To think.”

“Me neither.” Damian murmured. His voice sounded dry, and Jon wondered when he last drank anything, or ate. “But…I’m glad you’re here.”

Jon let himself smile a little bit, and reached out to hold Damian’s hand. Damian didn’t refute the gesture, and even squeezed Jon’s fingers between his. “I wish I’d had been allowed to come sooner.”

Damian shrugged. “It was better you didn’t see any of us as we…were.”

“Were, huh?” Jon asked dubiously. He glanced forward towards Dick’s grave. Flowers and statues covered it as a makeshift memorial, and the flowers were starting to wilt. “…How are you doing with all this?”

Damian absently shook his head. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

Jon waited, sensing there was more. Had a feeling that in their grief-induced isolation, not many feelings were shared amongst the Wayne family. That they probably all suffered in silence, despite being together.

“I…I didn’t get enough time with him.” Damian continued, just like Jon knew he would. Because Damian didn’t trust easily, but when he did, he trusted you with everything. And Jon knew he was one of the few Damian trusted. Maybe the only one, now. “Eight years. That’s it.”

He squeezed Jon’s hand again.

“If I’d had known that’s all we would have gotten, I…I wouldn’t have wasted it. There was so much I wanted to do with him. Learn from him.” Damian sniffed, and Jon looked up at his eyes. But he didn’t see a hint of tears. In fact, he saw nothing. Damian’s eyes were empty. “But now I’ll never get the chance. I’ll never get to ask how he escaped Father and Gotham. How he survived on his own, and found himself, or how can I do that too. How I can leave Robin, and start over somewhere else like he did. How he rebuilt his life, how he became and remained kind. Did he think it was possible I can remain kind too? Did he…did he believe in me? Or what about how…”

Damian trailed off, and Jon was almost glad he did. Because in his ramblings, Jon heard something, and he wasn’t so sure Damian meant to let it slip.

“You want to leave Robin?” Jon asked softly. Damian’s mouth clamped shut. “Since when?”

Damian stared at the stone in front of him for a moment, before sighing and looking at the ground.

“A few months.” Damian admitted. “I…just don’t fit in it anymore, I don’t think. Or it doesn’t fit me. And I can’t stay in Batman’s shadow forever, no matter who is wearing the mantle. Besides, Grayson left it when he was around my age. As did Drake, even if it wasn’t by his choice. I might as well follow the tradition as well.”

“…Does your dad know?”

“…No. No one does.” Damian frowned. “I was going to speak with Grayson about it next time I saw him, but now…now you’re the only one who knows by default, I suppose.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.” Jon smiled. He waited a moment, then looked up at the sky. “So…what do you want to do after you leave Robin? Find a new name? Quit and go on the straight and narrow?”

“I don’t know. That’s…what I was going to speak to Grayson about.” Damian admitted softly. “I want to still help, of course. But…is behind a mask the best way? Is Gotham where I’m best utilized?” He sighed, and curled his knees to his chest. Though he never let go of Jon’s hand. “But now…now I am even more confused.”

“Why?”

“Because Batman needs a Robin, and I can’t leave my father now, Jon.” Damian almost snapped, like it was obvious. “He’s grieving, and he’s lost. He shouldn’t be alone. He shouldn’t be left alone.”

“Absolutely not. I agree.” Jon nodded. “But…it can’t all fall on you, D. Just like it can’t fall on Alfred or Tim. He has his family, no matter where in the world they – you – are, and he has his friends. He has my dad, and Diana.”

“This is different. This is the loss of Richard. And not even Superman can heal that wound.” Damian shook his head. “Not to mention…if I left now, would my father see it as a betrayal? Abandonment? Would the family?”

“They wouldn’t. They couldn’t.” Jon argued. “You’re growing up, and they all know how it is. You can’t be stuck as the Boy Wonder forever, that’s not fair to you. Does the timing kind of suck? Maybe. But also…maybe this is the best time.” He hesitated, but squeezed Damian’s hand and said his thoughts anyway. “Maybe this is exactly what Dick would want you to do. Spread your wings and fly, so to speak.”

Damian stared at the ground. “…I don’t know what I’m going to do without him, Jon. I truly don’t. What if, without his guidance, I’m tempted by my mother again, and actually consider any offer she makes? What if I stray, and Batman cuts me loose, like I was burden in the first place? What if-”

“Hey, hey – stop. Don’t talk like that.” Jon shook their clasped hands. “None of that is going to happen, okay? Despite the fact that it won’t ever happen at all in the first place, I won’t let it. I promise. Alright?”

Damian didn’t look at him. But after a moment, he let himself tilt to the side, and lean his head on Jon’s shoulder.

“…Thanks for being here, Kent.” Damian whispered. “It means a lot.”

Jon let go of Damian’s hand, only to wrap his arm around his shoulders instead. He looked at the tombstone at their feet, sent a silent prayer up to Dick himself. “Don’t even mention it, D.”

A few months later, Robin had all but disappeared off the streets. It prompted news articles and primetime specials. Conspiracy theory websites and Twitter hashtags.

Jon liked to print them out and bring them to Damian every time he visited.

He was still in Gotham, and even still going out on patrol with Batman and the rest. But now his uniform was all black, and he stayed in the background as much as he could. This new shadow of Batman’s was never mentioned in the papers, never caught in a photo. A ghost, almost.

That wasn’t Damian’s new moniker, though. He still hadn’t chosen one.

“Not even a general idea?” Jon asked one day, as he and Conner visited. Tim had taken the newly printed article and was reading it over with an amused smirk, Conner cackling behind him. “Or like, a motif?”

“Not a priority.” Damian had shrugged. “Maybe I’ll never pick one.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn.” Jon pouted. “…How’s Bruce doing?”

Damian shrugged again. “Same as always. Attempts to lock himself in the cave, or in his office with work from Wayne Enterprises. I drag him out of the house at least every other day.”

Jon pursed his lips.

“But he’s been smiling lately. Like real smiles. So, it’s a start.” Damian promised. He knew Jon didn’t like this, Damian caring for Bruce. Because he knew that same care was not being reciprocated in the way it should.

“How long are you going to stay?” Jon asked, as he did every visit. “In Gotham, I mean.”

“I don’t know. Also not a priority.” Damian sighed. “I’m needed here, both in uniform and at home. When I feel I’m not necessarily needed, then I’ll start considering my options elsewhere.”

Something felt different when Jon was nineteen.

Clark and Conner found him sitting in the kitchen, staring fiercely into a soda can when they arrived home one afternoon.

“Hey, champ.” Clark hummed, leaning down to kiss Jon’s temple.

“Hey, Dad. Hey Kon” Jon sighed. “How was Gotham?”

“Gloomy, like always.” Conner chuckled, plopping down across from him. “Damian said hello, by the way.”

Jon felt himself blush a little bit. And he shouldn’t have, he’s known Damian forever. But lately, it felt like the two of them were growing closer, in a way he never expected when they were just teenagers trying to live up to their fathers’ legacies.

In a way that included flirting, holding hands in a park, in front of paparazzi. A way that included what may have been a date, since it ended in a quick, barely there kiss.

“He said he was going to give an answer to a question he knows you’d ask.” Clark continued, drawing Jon out of his reverie. “No, he has not decided on a new codename yet.”

Jon groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “He knows this isn’t like a blood contract or something, right? It doesn’t have to be permanent! It’s not that big of a choice!”

Clark held his hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger, son.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jon sighed. He sat back up and watched his father grab a glass and start to fill it in the sink. “Speaking of codenames and all that…”

Clark tilted his head as Conner sat up.

“I don’t…when do you think…” Jon huffed. “Conner, when did you realize you didn’t want to…be called Superboy anymore?”

Conner pursed his lips, looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Guess I never really thought about it. Just…stopped using it. And eventually everyone else did too.”

“I don’t think I knew that.” Clark mumbled sheepishly. “What do you go by now, may I ask?”

“Nothing, really. And not like Damian where I’m still deciding something. But just…Kon, usually. Different enough from Conner, honestly.” Conner grinned. “A lot of people also seem to think it’s Con – as in Pros and Cons? Works real well for the taunting wordplay and all that too.”

Clark snorted. “I’m sure your friends love the puns.”

“Bart does. Cassie, depends on the day. Tim is like a disappointed dad all the time anyway, so he doesn’t count.” Conner waved off. He returned his attention to Jon, whose attention seemed to be drifting off again. “Why do you ask, squirt?”

Jon frowned at the name, and that was new. Normally he didn’t mind the random nicknames his older brother gave him. “Because…I don’t…I don’t know. I don’t think…I want to be called Superboy anymore.”

Clark joined them at the table, sitting down carefully. “Why not?”

“Because, I’m not a boy anymore. I’m a teenager. I mean, I’m…I’m practically an adult!” Jon sounded exasperated already, like he’d had this conversation a million times. “It’s…it’s demeaning, and childish, and…and…”

He trailed off into a huff, slumping in his chair.

“I don’t even know if I want to keep the Super part, honestly.” Jon glanced at Clark. “Sorry, Dad.”

Clark shook his head, raising his hand. “None taken, Jonno.”

“Especially since I don’t feel all that super most of the time anyway.” He sighed.

“…If you want out of the life, Jon, I wouldn’t blame you.” Clark offered. “I’d love it, honestly. It’d just mean you’d be safer.”

“No, no. I want to be a hero. I want to help. I just.” Jon leaned back forward, hiding his face in his hands. “This is stupid. I feel stupid.”

Conner smiled and leaned forward, slapping his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Not stupid. Pretty sure every hero has gone through it at least once in their tenure. Even Batman.”

“And he settled on Bat. Man.” Clark winked. “So obviously not all names are winners.”

Jon looked over to Clark. “…You’re not disappointed?”

“That you want a new codename? Not at all.” Clark grinned. “My only request is…don’t take over four years to decide something like Damian is.”

Jon smiled. “I’ll try.”

“Maybe I’ll just go by Krypto.” Jon lamented from the bed. “He’s a dog, so I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“If you started going by Krypto.” Damian countered from the bathroom doorway. “I’m disowning you as my friend.”

Jon rolled to his side, deeper into the blankets. “What about as your potential bedmate?”

Damian’s face twisted, even as he came forward. “Christ, Jon. We haven’t even done anything, how do you still make that sound so dirty?”

“Because I know what annoys you. And if you’d just let me say boyfriend-”

“Which we are not officially.” Damian countered. “…Yet.”

“-Then I wouldn’t have to say things like bedmate, or friend with benefits.”

“We haven’t done anything, there is no benefit for either of us at this point.” Damian reiterated, even as Jon tugged at his arm when he got close enough. Damian sat on the edge of the bed, and almost smiled when Jon shimmied over to place his head in his lap. “Though I am finding your company less beneficial by the minute…”

Jon cackled, even as he felt Damian’s fingers twist into his hair. “Hey, if nothing else, I’m a good cuddle buddy, right?”

“My cat is better.” Damian shrugged. “Probably.”

“I’ll take the probably as a win.” Jon grinned. “…But hey, think about it this way.”

“Hm?”

“Even if I went by something dumb like Krypto, at least I picked a new codename.”

Damian frowned, and pulled his hand back. “For as charming as your parents are, neither of them taught you how to flirt properly, did they?”

Jon immediately pulled his arms out of the blanket, latching on to Damian’s waist. “You hate when I sidetrack a conversation. I was getting back on point.”

“…Fair.” Damian sighed. “I’ll allow it.”

“…Are you any closer to picking anything?” Jon asked. “According to Barry, you’re throwing off everyone’s betting pools.”

“I...have an idea.” Damian murmured, keeping his gaze away from Jon’s. “But I still need to think of a backup.”

“What? Why?” Jon asked.

“…Personal reasons.” Damian murmured. “And I don’t wish to get my hopes up.”

Jon watched him silently.

“But we aren’t talking about me.” Damian countered. “Have you thought of any other suggestions for yourself?”

“I don’t know. Something related to my dad, like Krypton? Or even like your dad – he named himself after what he was scared of, right? Or weakness. So, Kryptonite.” Jon listed. “Or maybe I should just be lazy and follow everyone else’s lead. Starman, or Sunguy or something stupid like that.”

“Hm. Well. Those are certainly…options.” Damian tilted his head apologetically. “I’d offer assistance, but…well…”

Jon laughed.

“Be my distraction instead, how about that?” Jon suggested instead. Without warning, he used his momentum to throw Damian back onto the bed, cocoon him in the blankets as he loomed overhead. “Because there’s totally a lot of other things I’d like to be doing than thinking of new codenames.”

Damian smiled as Jon leaned in for a kiss.

He didn’t know how Damian had lasted four years without a name. It’d only been a few months for himself, a few months of not using any name, and he felt like he was going crazy.

He also felt like he was a total letdown.

He was a Kent, for crying out loud. Son of Superman and one of the world’s greatest journalists. And here, he couldn’t choose a name, couldn’t pick a damn word.

Not to mention, it was detrimental in the field. When he didn’t notice an enemy coming behind him, or someone needed his help – he had no name to be called. And they couldn’t just shout Jon.

How did Damian make it look so easy? Because Damian and his family were freaks. They all moved too in-sync, too well trained. They were like animals themselves – they didn’t need to speak, movement was like instinct. Communication could be silent, because all of them were always three steps ahead of each other.

He let out a guttural groan as he entered the apartment, slammed the door behind him a little too hard. Heard the squeak of the chair in his mother’s office as she stood to greet him.

“Hi honey.” She called, walking into the room. She took in the annoyance on his face and gave him a sympathetic, knowing grin. “It’s not the end of the world, Jon. Names aren’t that big of a deal. So long as you’re helping, who cares what your name is?”

“I know, I know.” Jon mumbled, kicking off his shoes. “I’m just frustrated. It shouldn’t be this hard! Why doesn’t anything feel right?”

“Because it’s not.” Lois shrugged simply, leading the way into the kitchen. She motioned for Jon to sit, and got out a mug for him. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. It might take a while, but – when you know, you know.”

Jon groaned again. “Mom, I love you – but that was literally no help whatsoever.”

“Sometimes, the truth isn’t helpful.” She laughed, pouring him a glass of ice tea. She set it in front of him, and kissed his head. “But if you’re really struggling with this…talk to your father. He’s helped a young hero or two discover a new path before. You’re no different just because you’re his son.” She paused. “In fact, I’m a little surprised Damian hadn’t told you.”

“Told me what?” Jon stomach nearly dropped. “Dad finally helped him decide on a name too?!”

“Of course not. Damian is as stubborn and tight-lipped as his own idiot of a father.” Lois rolled her eyes, but it was fond. “No, his brother – Dick.”

Jon blinked.

“Nightwing was a Kryptonian name. From the Kryptonian legend of Nightwing and Flamebird.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Even if you don’t want you father’s help on a name, ask him about the story. It’s very good.”

Tim found Damian in the cave alone, and his gut immediately told him that something was off. Not wrong, but…not necessarily good.

“Hey.” He offered. “What’s up?”

Damian didn’t move from the computer chair. He looked too much like Bruce in that moment – slouched, hands steepled in front of his face, looking too thoughtful for someone so young.

“I’d like to talk to you.” Damian returned, just as vaguely.

“I’m all ears.”

Damian hesitated a moment. Dragged it to two. Tim was about to speak, to push the conversation along, when Damian sighed. “I…we didn’t do it right last time. And I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. Not here. Not with you.”

“…Damian?” Tim asked, moving towards him. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, no. I just.” He sighed. “I wanted to ask your…opinion.”

“On?”

“I think I’ve chosen a new moniker to go by.” Damian murmured. “But I want to make sure I had permission first.”

“Permission?” Tim repeated, bewildered. “I mean…as long it’s not like Red Robin or Red Hood or something, I think you can go by whatever you wa-”

“Nightwing.”

Damian’s voice was so quiet when he said it, Tim almost thought he’d misheard, or that maybe Damian didn’t actually speak at all. That it was maybe a breeze, or a ghost.

But when Damian said nothing else, eyes still not on him, Tim realized he said exactly as he’d heard. “…Really?”

Damian nodded, but seemed to swallow a lump in his throat.

“I mean, those are quite some shoes to fill, especially after all these years, but…” Then Tim paused, replayed what Damian already said. “…Wait, why would you need my permission to use Dick’s old name?”

Damian still didn’t look at him. “Because last time I changed names, I took yours.” He frowned. “I stole yours.”

Tim shrugged. “It was over a decade ago. I know you and I have held a lot of grudges in our lives, but trust me. I’m over that one.”

“And I know Todd would never want Nightwing.” Damian continued as if Tim never spoke. “But…you were next in line. You loved Grayson like I did.” Finally, he looked up, eyes boring into Tim’s. “And you’d deserve it.”

Tim stepped back like someone had punched him in the chest. “Damian…”

“You do, and you know it.” Damian continued. “You’ve fought tooth and nail for respect in this family, for every title you’ve ever carried. You fought for your independence, and have thrived as Red Robin. In a way, you are everything Nightwing embodies, and you deserve the title most.” Damian’s gaze dropped once more. “And I don’t want to take that opportunity from you. Not like I’ve taken everything else from you too.”

Tim just stared.

“He would have chosen you himself. I know it. If he were…” Damian trailed off. Seemed to have to take a moment to compose himself. “…If he were still here.”

Tim lowered his own eyes at the thought. It’d been five years since their beloved older brother died. Despite what the world tried to say, time didn’t heal all wounds, and the loss of Dick Grayson was a wound that seemed almost infected now, especially for Damian.

The world was less without him. Less bright, less kind, less happy – less everything.

Just…less.

After a moment Tim smiled. Picked his head up and moved forward so he could crouch next to the chair, leaning his arms on it. Despite being twenty-three years old, Damian turned his head away so he didn’t have to look at Tim, just like a child.

“I don’t want Nightwing.” Tim said honestly. “I’m happy with where I am and what I’m doing. But I appreciate you asking. I’m…honored, in fact.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. I guess.” Damian mumbled.

“But I have to say I disagree with you.” Tim leaned his chin on his arms. “Dick wouldn’t have picked me to succeed him. He wouldn’t have picked anyone. But he would have been so proud to see you take it on after him.”

Damian closed his eyes, sucked his lips between his teeth.

“Because, for once, I’ll toot my own horn a little bit. I won’t disagree with you on this one. Maybe I do deserve the Nightwing name.” Tim admitted. “But I’m not the only one.”

Damian didn’t answer, but shook his head.

“You do too, Damian.” Tim reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “You’ve overcome so much. You’ve done so much. And Dick was proud of you for it until the day he died. I know he was.”

Damian opened his eyes and looked at Tim. The tears immediately fell down his cheeks.

“And he’d be honored, knowing you wanted to follow in his footsteps, and carry on his legacy, for a second time.” Tim chuckled. “Especially after your first words to us when you were a kid was how badly you wanted to be Batman.”

“One day I still will be.” Damian blubbered with a laugh. Tim laughed too.

“I know.” He hummed warmly. “But that was all a long, surprisingly emotionally-charged way to say: while it’s not mine to give, yes you have my permission to become Nightwing.”

Even as his tears continued to fall, Damian stared at Tim for a few more seconds, before leaning forward and, once again to Tim’s surprise, enveloped his older brother in a hug.

“Thank you, Drake.” He whispered. Tim just let his smile widen as he held Damian just as tightly back. “Thank you so much.”

“Tim told me Damian finally picked a new name.” Conner said one morning, as the two of them sat on a rooftop overlooking Metropolis. “…He also mentioned you two might be dating?”

Jon’s eyes widened slightly as he tried to keep his heart rate in check. Damian had told Tim?

“He hasn’t told me about choosing a name.” Jon said instead. “When did this supposedly happen?”

“The other day. Maybe he hasn’t made it official yet.” Conner shrugged. Then he grinned. “Though you’d think he’d tell his boyfriend about it anyway.”

Jon frowned. “We’re not dating.” A hesitation. “Officially.”

“Ooooh.” Conner mocked, scooting closer. “Tell me everything.”

Jon rolled his eyes, but laughed as he pushed Conner’s shoulder. “First off, not your business. And second, there’s nothing to tell? We hang out. We hold hands. We…do things.”

Conner wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop.” Jon chuckled. “I just…like being with him. Being close to him makes me feel happy. Safe. All that cliché stuff.”

“Has he reciprocated?” Jon nodded. “Then why not official?”

“His choice. I think he feels like he’d be judged for having actual emotions or something.” Jon shrugged. “I also think he feels like he’s…not good enough? Or a bad person, or something, and is hoping I might find someone else before we’re legit.”

“Ouch.”

“It sucks, but…I get it.” Jon sighed. “And he just…has stuff going on. Mentally, I think.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we started flirting a little bit right before Dick died. So our whole relationship so far, romantically, he’s trying to deal with the loss, with the vacuum that loss created in his family, and growing in his role as a hero.” Jon listed. “He’s stuck in his own head so much that honestly I’m just happy when I can get him to smile some days.”

“That’s sweet.” Conner grinned. “And proof you’re head over heels.”

“I mean…did I ever deny that?” Jon grinned back, but it was sad. Conner’s own smile fell slightly.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Jon exhaled a bitter laugh. “That obvious?”

“Does he know?”

“I think so?” Jon thought out loud. “And I think that’s why he thinks himself such a terrible person.”

“Because he doesn’t love you back?”

“No, no. I think he absolutely does.” Jon said confidently. “It’s just like I said – he thinks himself as a bad person, and that I deserve better.”

“That’s…” Conner pursed his lips. “…quite the conundrum.”

“Yeah.” Jon smiled wistfully. “But anyway, the name. Did Tim say what name he chose?”

“Nope.” Conner kicked his feet against the building. “Tim said it was incredibly personal, and he wasn’t the one to share it.”

“Interesting.” Jon muttered. “Wonder what it could be?”

He was twenty, very much an adult, but oh boy, did he feel like a rebellious teenager right now.

After all, how else were you supposed to feel when you and your not-quite-boyfriend were lying almost naked, cuddled up in your parents’ bed?

Somewhere in his mind he was panicking. If – when – they found out, he was doomed. He’d never live it down.

(But at the same time, it was also totally not his fault. Their apartment was closer to downtown than his was, and the room he still had here only had a single bed. There was no way they’d fit. And since his father was in space and his mother in the Philippines, the bed would have just gone to waste being empty, so…)

Though, simultaneously, any fear of repercussions was drowned out by the utter bliss he felt at being cocooned in Damian’s arms, and using his collarbone as a pillow while they watched the nightly news.

Under his ear, he felt Damian’s heartbeat slowing, a clear sign he was falling asleep. So it was the perfect time to ask:

“I hear you picked a new codename.”

Damian stirred a little and hummed, “Yeah.”

“What name did you pick, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Damian hesitated a moment, then whispered, “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Never.”

“…Nightwing.” Damian answered sheepishly. Quietly, like he wasn’t allowed to say it. “I…decided to carry on Grayson’s legacy.”

Jon turned and looked up at him. Without thinking he cupped Damian’s cheek in his hand. “Oh, Damian, that’s wonderful.” Damian kept his gaze over Jon’s shoulder, face heating up in an embarrassed flush. “He’d love it, he’d be so happy.” He stroked his thumb across Damian’s skin. “I’m so proud of you.”

Damian snorted. “Nothing to be proud of. It took me five years to pick a name someone had already used.”

“For good reason.” Jon countered. “And an homage to a great man.”

Damian allowed himself to look at Jon now. He stared at him for a moment, taking in his face, then carefully took hold of Jon’s wrist, and leaned in for a kiss, which Jon ate up greedily.

After a moment, they separated, and Jon twisted back to stare at the TV, Damian’s arms still tight around him.

“…What about you?” Damian asked softly. “Any ideas?”

“I don’t know. Superdude is sounding better and better every day.” Jon said dryly. “But I guess I haven’t really been thinking about it either. Been focused on some other more important things lately.”

“Oh? Like what? School?”

Jon grinned, kept his eyes on the weather report now lighting up the room.

“You.”

Damian didn’t answer, but Jon felt him gently kiss his temple, and lean their heads together.

“Mom said I should ask my dad.” Jon hummed as he paid for their coffee. “But we haven’t seen each other in a while, and you know more about Krypton and all that stuff than he does, you know?”

“Sure.” Kara smiled, taking her cup from his hand. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re so interested in some old Kryptonian legend?”

“Just curiosity, mostly.” Jon shrugged. “Dad helped Dick Grayson become Nightwing back in the day, and now that Damian is taking the title on, I figured I should learn a little bit about it myself.”

“To support your future husband?” Kara smirked.

“Stop.” Jon groaned. “I should have never told Conner the truth.”

“I’m just glad to know you’re happy.” Kara squeezed his hand as they walked outside. “And also that I now have a viable reason to beat Damian up.”

“And that reason would be?”

“For the honor of my littlest cousin.” She winked. Jon found himself laughing. “Thanks for walking me back to the office, by the way. I’m sorry we couldn’t have lunch today.”

“I totally understand. I have to get back to campus for class soon anyway.” Jon waved off. “Rain check for a movie night, though?”

“Absolutely. Go buy a lot of tissues, wine and chocolate, because I am in the mood for some tearjerkers.” Kara demanded. “And…Damian is more than welcome to join us, if he’d like.”

“He’d never.” Jon promised as they jogged across a crosswalk. “But he’ll appreciate the invite.”

“Are you just saying that, or would he really?”

“Honestly, he really would.” Jon swore. “He’s trying not to take little things like that for granted anymore. Not since…well. You know.”

Kara frowned. “…I miss him too.”

“Everyone does.” Jon murmured as they stopped outside a building. Some people waved to Kara as they exited and jumped into a taxi nearby. “He was the best of all of us.”

“Give Damian my regards, and a hug for me. Tell him I’m sorry about Dick, if you think it’s appropriate.” Kara murmured as she turned to her purse, and began digging in it. After a moment, she held out a book. It looked old, and pages were misshaped, almost like they’d been gnawed on, or burned. “First, last and only edition.”

Jon took the tome, marveling at the etched green cover, and symbols seemingly floating around the image. But then he frowned. “Kara.” He sighed. “You know my Kryptonian isn’t that good.”

“Well then this will be a great tool to learn.” She smiled, squeezing his bicep. Someone suddenly called Kara from the door. She smiled and waved back before glancing to Jon. “Gotta go, kiddo. It was great seeing you! Tell your pops hi for me!”

She turned, and began to jog away, when Jon called after her. “Kara, wait!”

She did, glancing over her shoulder.

“Give me a quick summary?” He tried with a lopsided grin. “You know, to keep me interested?”

Kara twisted her lips in thought, then smiled. “Nightwing and Flamebird always find each other in the end.”

She took a sip of her coffee and disappeared into her office.

By two o’clock in the morning that very night, Jon sat at the desk in his apartment, tears pouring down his face.

The legend was magical, breathtaking, awe-inspiring…but heartbreaking. The most heartbreaking thing he’d ever read.

But it also made him realize exactly what he needed to do. Exactly what his future was.

Exactly who his future was.

Without thinking, he wiped the tears from his eyes, and laughed as he stood, turning towards his window.

It would be a quick flight to Gotham, and surely Alfred was still awake at this hour.

Damian stood on the top of Wayne Tower, staring at the city below him. The city he’d come to think of as home. The city that was…his.

He felt weird without the cape, without the hood. Was still getting used to the tight, plain bodysuit. The lighter armour. The dip of red across his chest.

He could take Grayson’s name, but he could never take his colors. That blue was too pure. Damian refused to taint it.

He inhaled and held his breath, then exhaled slowly. It was his first night in his new gear – would the villains know who he was? Would they mock him? Could he live up to his brother’s standards? Would he honor his memory?

“Damn.” He heard off to his side. “You look good.”

Damian glanced over, and found himself at a loss for words. The other man was in a similarly simple bodysuit, though instead of black, it was a deep blue. Opposite of the downward red arrow on Damian’s chest, the bright, near-blinding golden arrow on the other pointed upwards, almost looking like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Damian stared for a moment, taking it in, before meeting Jon’s eyes. “This is new.”

“You like?” Jon asked, practically shy. “Alfred helped me make it.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Jon stepped forwards. His boots, which matched the shimmering yellow on his chest, seemed to flicker as he walked, like fire. “I mean, he helped make yours, and it’s only natural our designs match a little bit.”

“Why would they need to match?” Damian asked. Then he squinted. “Jonathan Kent, have you chosen a new moniker?”

“I did indeed.” Jon grinned. “Surely Dick told you how he got his name.”

“He did.”

“Did he tell you the story behind it?”

“He did not. But I’ve heard of it.” Damian found his voice going quieter, his throat drying up. “Your father told me, I believe.”

“Mhm.” Jon reached out, gently taking Damian’s hand in his, raising it between them. “And do you remember how it goes?”

Damian blinked, then smiled. “Refresh my memory.”

“Nightwing can’t exist without Flamebird.” Jon smirked. He pressed his lips to Damian’s knuckles. “And no matter the universe, no matter the situation, they always find each other in the end.”

“…Well, Flamebird.” Damian whispered softly. “I’m glad you found me.”

“I’m glad you found me too.” Jon stood back up. “Ready for our first official patrol in the new digs? Say goodbye to Robin and Superboy forever?”

“Do you want to call it our first official patrol?” Damian let his grin widen. “Or perhaps our first official date?”

Jon gaped at him, eyes wide and hopeful. “For real?”

“For real.” Damian promised. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting-”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Jon surged forward, wrapping him in his arms and lifting him off the tower’s ledge as he smashed their mouths together. Damian let his surprise linger for only a second, before grabbing both sides of Jon’s head and returning the gesture.

The moment felt like it lasted both an eternity and no longer than a blink. When they parted, they were both out of breath, and trembling from the emotional adrenaline.

“Flamebird.” Damian breathed as Jon lowered him, his hands still on Jon’s face. “I think I like it.”

“Good. Because I didn’t have any backups.” Jon chuckled.

“It suits you, I think.” Damian smiled.

“Nightwing suits you just as well.” Jon countered. “…Dick would be so proud.”

Damian just lowered his gaze, but allowed himself to keep smiling.

“…Well.” Damian exhaled, looking out into the city. “Shall we?”

Jon bowed, holding his arm out. “After you, ‘Wing.”

Damian laughed and turned, stepping off the building and allowing himself to freefall. “Follow me, ‘Bird.”

Jon smiled, and jumped right after him.

#jon kent #Damian Wayne #jondami #Tim Drake #conner kent #kara zor-el #clark kent #Lois Lane

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countessofbiscuit · 4 years

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What are your Bobasoka headcanons? I've already gone through all of the (criminally little) fic on ao3 and I especially loved Smothered and Covered, and I saw the majority of the fics in the tag were gifted to you so I'm assuming you're the OG shipper. Feel free to essay if you like!!

Thanks for the ask and kind words about that fic :3

Oh, Bobasoka … where to begin? It’s a pairing that’s been bumping around in exchange requests for a few years — I figure it’d be easy for anyone invested in Ahsoka’s relationship with the clones to be compelled by the idea. Lledra used to draw Boba and Ahsoka interacting, and it was probably a few panels of their incredible Destinies comic that set my Bobasoka wheels turning. I’m also drawn to them because their journeys traverse so much canon; there’s not just a sandbox to play in, but a whole goddamn stretch of beach, stretching far out into the horizon ... (#AhsokaLives #BobaSurvived :D)

I have to lead with the proviso that almost everything I write/daydream about/headcanon has a groundsheet of Rexsoka. Ahsoka’s interest in Boba, in my head, is intimately tied up with her attraction to and/or relationship with Rex — or, at the bare minimum, her intimate fellowship with the clones. She went through puberty (maybe with heats!) surrounded by a literal army of handsome, roughly college-aged dudes; that must’ve been a heady mix of heaven and hell. If she didn’t quench her thirst before war’s end and her (eventual) separation from Rex, she’d probably be pretty dehydrated when stumbling across Boba. As for Boba’s attraction to Ahsoka, well ... she’s very pretty, she’s potentially useful, she’s not likely to skewer him in his sleep (+2) on account of being a Jedi (-1), and now she’s the one down on her luck; if he falls in bed with anyone, why not this girl who isn’t afraid of him and stares a lot at his lips?

And Boba is like a hot shipping potato — satisfying, hard to fuck up, goes well (read: makes for an intriguing story) with almost everyone. And I think it has everything to do with his liminality, something he shares with Ahsoka and probably recognizes.

Their neither-this-nor-that-ness overlap in such interesting ways, and they each bring their identity issues to the table — Ahsoka as an on-again, off-again Jedi; Boba as a clone who isn’t a Clone™, a Mandalorian by birth and bearing, but not by the book. At different points in their stories, they identify as different things, and that would affect their headspace and color their view of the other. They wrestle with themselves and each other. Force-user and bounty hunter; privileged topsider and orphaned juvenile delinquent fugitive; GAR commander and outcast clone; Jedi and Mandalorian; Disillusioned veteran and disaffected army brat; Rebellion agent and Imperial contractor.

And as much conflict is baked into these dynamics, it also generates a certain magnetism; and I believe they recognize, on some level, their shared trauma and the symmetry in their experiences. Boba and Ahsoka both have happy childhoods with very little to distress or vex them (beyond the art, I do not jive with Age of Republic: Jango Fett, a Disney-canon comic that not only doubles-down on the Jango-wasn’t-Mando nonsense, but shows him being rather cavalier about Boba’s life); Geonosis happens and their adolescent lives are dominated by war (which is how they came to actively threaten each other as space!secondary-schoolers — whaaaaatf!); they are both dubiously (even wrongfully) imprisoned; and they both suffer alienation and incredible personal loss.

Boba was set apart from the clones before he was even pulled him from the jar, othered and elevated from the beginning. He never bonded with brothers, he does not identify as a clone. And while there are examples of clones making overtures to him, canonically his relationship with them is fraught and probably made worse when he gets banged up in Republic Central at the tender age of eleven or twelve — and of course, Ahsoka is an accessory to this, the second chapter in his tragedy at the hands of the Jedi. He needed help (whether he wanted it or not), it was not given by clones or Jedi alike (hamstrung by bureaucracy, sure, but surely some other means of intervention might have been lobbied for?), and Boba becomes a right teenage disaster, well-balanced only in the sense that he has a chip on both shoulders.

(n.b. Putting my RepComm hat on for a second, I can’t help but sniffle-laugh at the idea that the Alphas watched him get thrown in a maximum-security slammer and were like “Ah, there he is, the feral vod’ika. First time, we’ll let the little snot earn his stripes. Second time, we’ll bust him out and send him on a tough love retreat with A’den or Jaing.”)

Ahsoka, meanwhile, is part-and-parcel of the institutions that Boba sets himself against, even after she too has been cast out by circumstances beyond her control. She grows up in a supportive Jedi community and then spends some seriously formative years with a whole slew of brothers — brothers that should have been Boba’s!

Boba, on the other hand, is a great example of the proverb that a child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth. (As he tells Hondo, “Why should I help anybody? I’ve got no one.”)

The resentment that must create! But also, later, the quiet empathy too — maybe when Boba’s having one of his better days and Ahsoka’s obviously not.

And all of the above is interesting enough, without also touching upon the wildcard that is Mandalore.

Boba’s relationship with Mandalore .... well, that’s contested in- and out-of-universe and I won’t allow myself to essay overmuch. I subscribe firmly to a Mandalorian Fetts construction of canon, even though Boba must be someone who struggles mightily with Mandalorian identity. He’s raised by a bona fide Mando, a solicitous, loving father who’d have no reason not to pass on his language and beliefs; but at the same time, it takes that village, and when Boba’s clan of two is shattered, he has no one else. The loss of his dad unmoors him from his only anchor to Mandalorian culture and clan.

If Boba had been close to the Cuy’val Dar, one would think he’d have turned to them rather than fall in with Jango’s criminal acquaintances; or maybe the bounty hunters just scooped him up first, and troubled lil’ Boba was shepherded through bereavement by folks who enabled and encouraged him to externalize his anger in a way that gave him a (false) feeling of agency and strength.

Whatever the reasons, Boba does not repatriate himself to Mandalore (much to Fenn Shysa’s melodramatic dismay). He strikes me as a lapsed Mandalorian; he doesn’t exactly follow the creed besides wearing the armor (scavenged? his dad’s sans helmet? canon is confused on this point, but he doesn’t go Mando until the unfinished arcs at the end of TCW, either for lack of stature, lack of armor, or lack of enthusiasm). I feel like if someone rocked up to Boba in a cantina and had the balls to ask “hey, so you a Mandalorian?” Boba would be like “<ominously slow helmet tilt> who’s asking” and never give you a straight answer.

Meanwhile, Ahsoka gets a crash course on Mandalore from none other than someone who, at one point, belonged to a sect that wanted to expunge Jaster’s legacy from the galaxy — and at the very least, had reason to dislike clones. This isn’t the place to explore my Boba/Bo-Katan feelings, but know that they are fathomless, and I would pay good money to be a fly on the wall of that Kom’rk when Bo-Katan gives Ahsoka Mando History 101 with her own special sauce. Ahsoka is probably more up-to-speed on Mandalore than Boba, and at one point, she may even own more beskar than him! (n.b. After the crash, I think one of the first places Rex and Ahsoka bounce is just inside Mando space, to scope out the Sundari situation and maybe try to scramble a signal to Bo-Katan; she’d have the goodwill to at least get them back on their feet if she can’t help them lay low herself. For a variety of reasons worth maybe ficcing down the line, they aren’t successful.)

I don’t really have a concluding statement except, I just think Bobasoka’s neat :) They hit all my depressed-Millennial buttons.

Headcanon by bullet-point isn’t really my style, but this is tumblr so ... tl;dr:

They recognize a lot in each other, even if they’re slow to admit it, if ever. Boba’s a cagey bastard and Ahsoka doesn’t ever like him enough to be emotionally honest.

They bump into each other during Ahsoka’s walkabout(s) ‘cause Coruscant’s Underworld ain’t big enough for the two of them. Without Slave-1, Boba couchsurfs at Nyx Okami’s garage, but he does his laundry at Rafa’s. He might even borrow the Martez’s new, useful friend for a job or two.

Ahsoka eventually matures enough to be sensitive about her use of the Force on and around clones, and she definitely doesn’t use it around Boba. Definitely not during sex.

Boba is privately weirded out every time Ahsoka uses Mando slang she picked up off the clones or the Nite Owls.

Boba absolutely kills Cad Bane in that shoot-out, keeps the hat, and lets Ahsoka have it. She shoves it out the airlock and uses it for target practice.

So many great smut flavours! Hatesex. Acquaintances with benefits. “You’re traumatized and touch-starved and you look just like him/them, and I know how to be gentle and what to do, so maybe we could … ?” They’re both privately comfortable with their bodies and sexuality, but Boba’s got trust issues a parsec long and Ahsoka’s lost confidence; it’s always an awkward affair, but desperation wins out.

They exchange comm codes every time they run into each other, which is kind of pointless because they both use burners.

Ahsoka hitches a ride on Slave-1 more than once. There really is only one bed, so it’s either sleep upright, sleep in a pokey prisoner hold, or sleep with him.

For a few years, Boba can pass as a last-generation clone — the ones that got sold off in bulk units to slavers before Kamino sunk another three years’ food, board, and training into them. Boba pretends he doesn’t notice, easy to really, since he tells himself his helmet is his face. But occasionally, when Ahsoka can convince him there’s profit in it, he agrees to play sleeper agent and assists in liberating a few here and there.

They don’t talk about Aurra Sing.

When an Imp really crosses him, Boba passes on intel to Ahsoka to ruin their day.

Once, when they’re both super skint, Ahsoka volunteers to get handed in to some relatively minor and out-of-the-way Imperial garrison, so Boba can collect, bust her out, and split the pot with her. It’s the closest she ever comes to telling him “I trust you” — and when he brushes the idea aside, citing something about risk, it’s the closest he ever comes to telling her “I love you.”

Boba sees Inquisitors as muscling in on his game. There are so many lousy Force-users around nowadays, it should be easy pickings, but Inquisitors get privileged information. So he makes sport out of misdirecting them, especially from Ahsoka.

When he pisses her off, Ahsoka fantasizes about Bo-Katan taking Boba down a peg or two while she watches :)))

Boba experienced Ahsoka’s heat once, secondhand through a cabin wall. He thought he was being clever by shooting Rex up with some Nevoota stim pollen, locking him in with Ahsoka, and hijacking their locked ships. Longest three days of his life, limping on broken hyperdrives and shared fuel stores to the nearest waystation to a soundtrack of violent lovemaking : \

Bounty hunters invariably bump into spies and agents because they work in the same areas. The agents pretend to be bounty hunters, eccentric business people, sex workers, or a range of other things. Sometimes each party knows all about the other, but it’s only polite not to mention it. This happens to Ahsoka and Boba A LOT, especially once she becomes Fulcrum; rebel cells and Imperials often want the same people. Occasionally they exchange fire. A couple times Boba gets imprisoned in Ahsoka’s own brig. Once, Boba blows her cover and definitely lives to regret it.

(this essay was originally punctuated with pics, but replies with images won’t show up tumblr tags so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

#bobasoka #boba fett #ahsoka tano #rexsoka #the clone wars

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lynne-monstr · 6 years

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Flufftober Day 11: Heart

ao3 link

A warlock’s heart is not safe in his own chest.

It was an old adage, taught to every warlock child from the cradle. The fate of their kind.

Centuries of research had brought them no closer to understanding why their hearts suddenly turned to stone in their chest. Calcification, they called it. For some it happened young. A tragedy, people would whisper in the shadows, while being grateful it wasn’t them or their loved ones. Most went centuries with no sign of the ailment, only to go to sleep and never wake up.

Magnus had studied the phenomena for years, soul-sick from watching so many of his people fall ill to the ailment. It was his research that paved the way for a solution. It was both his greatest accomplishment and his greatest failure.

If a warlock’s heart wasn’t safe in their chest, they must give it away.

Eventually, entire industries sprung up. Secure facilities where a warlock could store their fragile heart. It was a cold and clinical process, leaving behind a chill that never went away. But it was better than the alternative, the ticking time-bomb of a calcified heart. Only the extremely brave (or the very eccentric) risked keeping their own hearts in their chest anymore.

The lucky ones never had to visit such places, they simply gave their heart away, kept warm and loved and cared for by another.

Magnus lived with the perpetual chill of cold storage. He had tried to give his heart away once, and it was a mistake he never intended to repeat.

The chill remained, despite the balmy heat that refused to give way to autumn’s crispness. He rubbed his hands together in a futile attempt to warm them.

“You’re always so cold,” Alec remarked, taking both of Magnus’ hands in his. Raising them to his face, he gently breathed on their joined fingers.

The warm air was a balm on his cold skin but all too soon it was gone.

Magnus smiled faintly. He never told Alec about his heart, though he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d figured it out on his own. Alec was highly intelligent, with access to the Clave’s public records on warlock afflictions and remedies. Kind and considerate as he was, he likely wouldn’t bring it up until Magnus did.

(The Clave's official position stated that it was the demon blood that caused the heart calcification. That the warlocks’ own heritage slowly poisoned the human part of their body. A punishment from Raziel himself for wielding the power that they did.

The first time Magnus had read that particular dossier, he’d set the paper on fire.)

Around them, Prospect Park was quiet, save for the chatter of the ducks along the water. Magnus took his hands back as they continued their walk, electing instead to slip one into back pocket of Alec’s jeans.

Before he could change his mind, Magnus patted at his chest with his free hand. “Well, you know what they say about the heartless,” he said with a lightness he didn’t feel. “As cold as we are empty.”

Alec’s steps stuttered in surprise. “Whoever said that’s an idiot. You’re the fullest thing in my life.”

Warmth curled tight in Magnus’ chest as his breath caught, the way it always did when Alec said things like that. He wondered if maybe, just maybe, he had found someone who would accept the safekeeping of his heart. Who would care for it and shelter it and bring warmth back into his life.

Centuries of caution held his tongue, and he said nothing as they continued their stroll through the park and eventually stopped for a magically conjured picnic lunch.

(Camille had laughed in his face when he presented his heart, her voice ringing like a bell as she asked him whether he was serving her dinner. The very next day, he sought out the most expensive, exclusive facility in Paris for an immediate appointment. He’d been heartless ever since.)

Magnus had made up his mind, and that should have been the end of the matter. Unfortunately, the rest of him hadn’t quite gotten the fire message. For decades he had pushed any thoughts of his heart out of his mind, locked them up and thrown away the key.

They rushed back over him like a torrent.

When he was curled up on the couch with a cheap mystery thriller, Alec beside him intently studying the primer on warlock magic he’d asked Magnus for. Or on a dinner trip to Portugal, the candlelight throwing shadows against Alec’s throat as he tipped his head back and laughed.

He thought about it every time they stripped each other of their clothes, until there was nothing between them but mumbled I love you’s mouthed across bare skin.

There was no escaping it.

Against all sense, Magnus wanted to give his heart away again.

He had it all planned. Burgers in the East Village. Drinks and billiards at a gem of a bar on Avenue B that he’d been meaning to show Alec. Lastly, a relaxing, nighttime stroll before portaling back home where Magnus would fix them both a cocktail and ask him—

“Would you be the one to hold my heart?”

And of course, Magnus managed to make a mess of it.

Water dripped in streams down his face from where he just stepped out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. The blissful heat of scalding water was already giving way to the familiar bone-deep chill.

Alec stood in front of the mirror, toothbrush in his mouth. Foam overflowed around his lips as he choked on air. Frantically, he turned the tap on, rinsing his mouth with water before turning back to Magnus.

They hadn’t even made it to dinner and the plan was in ruins.

Alec’s eyes were wide in shock and Magnus despaired.

Of course Alec wouldn’t want to take on such a heavy burden. When would Magnus stop being so stupidly impulsive? Even locked away in the highest security warlock vault money and reputation could buy, his traitorous heart managed to screw up everything.

The entire plan was a mistake. He always did this, fell too fast and too much and sent the people he loved running. And sure enough he did it again. And not in the fun Britney Spears way, he thought with an edge of hysteria. In the way that was sure to be the first fission that eventually drove he and Alec apart.

Oh, it wouldn’t happen tonight. It wouldn’t even happen this month. But surely, the weight of Magnus’ desires would become too great to bear. A stream of tiny drips that eventually eroded mountains.

The magic of his displaced heart buzzed frantically in his chest. It was a far cry from the racing heartbeat he’d never again possess, and Magnus almost crumbled.

He waved a hand, desperately trying to collect himself. “Never mind, Alexander, I shouldn’t have asked that, I’m s—”

His words ground to a halt as Alec placed a finger in front of his lips. Hovering, but not touching.

“I just—you just—I was surprised, is all,” Alec continued, a hint of color coming into his cheeks.

Magnus felt pinned in place, unable to move or speak. Is this how Alec felt that night after they healed Luke? So desperately wanting, yet fixed eternally in his own mind?

Alec’s stroked a thumb across his cheek. “You can ask me anything.”

Beyond his outstretched hand, Alec no longer looked panicked. Rather, his entire face exuded warmth and love. Hope blossomed in Magnus’ empty chest.

He let his eyes slip shut. The hand on his cheek burned like a fiery brand, cutting through his fear and his doubt. Alec had seen the worst in him before, more than once. He’d seen the ugliest parts of Magnus and still told him he was beautiful. He couldn’t understand what it was Alec saw that made him say that, but he was beginning to believe that Alec believed.

So he took a breath and asked again. “I’d like to give you my heart, if you’ll take it.”

Alec had toothpaste on his chin, but his smile was the most beautiful thing Magnus had seen. “I want every part of you. Heart included.”

In that moment, Magnus could have portaled to the moon, powered by nothing more than his love for the man in front of him.

The ceremony required surprising little preparation, considering how much it had changed warlock society. The final step was retrieving his heart from the facility he’d left it at over a century ago. He returned to the loft holding a specially warded box, packed away beneath additional layers of protective spells.

The magic in his chest churned in restless agitation, no doubt recognizing the heart it was tied to. It made Magnus feel restless, too. Or maybe that was nerves. He could barely remember what it felt like before he became heartless. The cold was all he knew anymore. What if giving his heart away was a mistake?

Those few warlocks that had done so described it as the height of peace and happiness to be so close to a loved one. They claimed it was a warlock’s true state to give their heart away, and that was the real reason they turned to stone otherwise. Magnus wasn’t sure he believed that, but he supposed he was about to find out.

Alec appeared in the doorway, and there was no more time for doubts.

Picking up two shot glasses from the coffee table, Magnus passed one over. If he was going to drink a foul-tasting potion, he was going to do it out of a decent glass.

“Is this going to taste as bad as that martini you made me the first time?” Alec asked, eyeing the glass and its viscous contents dubiously.

“Worse,” Magnus said cheerfully. If the night was a total disaster, at least he’d get to see Alec make his adorable alcohol grimaces.

“Lucky me,” Alec mumbled, scrunching up his face and preparing to drink.

“Cheers,” Magnus said, clinking his glass against Alec’s.

With one last look at each other, they began. It mostly consisted of Alec walking circles around Magnus as he cast a short yet intricate spell.

All too soon, it was done.

A heat blazed in Magnus’ chest where there had been nothing but ice cold for so long, pulsing as it curled around his ribs and crept down his arms and between his toes. It was a blaze he hadn’t felt since before he had paid another warlock to take his heart away, over a century ago.

Except this time it was better. His heart had found its true home.

“Oh.” Magnus gasped. and saw his awe reflected in Alec’s eyes. He could feel Alec’s presence in front of himself, the new sense as strong as the sight that showed Alec in front of him, hands cupped in front of him holding Magnus’ pulsing heart.

Judging by Alec’s reaction, the new awareness was mutual.

“Bring my heart to your chest.” Magnus couldn’t muster more than a whisper. “The magic will do the rest.”

And Alec, his brave and loving Alexander, did it without hesitation.

The magic flared yellow around them, bright and blinding. When Magnus blinked away the spots from his vision, Alec’s hands were empty. His heart was nowhere to be seen. For a moment, he was terrified it didn’t work, that magic itself had deemed him not worthy of Alec’s love.

Another wave of power washed through him and he gasped. When it passed, it took the strange sense awareness of Alec with it. There was no time to be disappointed in the loss, however, because at that moment the humming of sterile magic within his chest was replaced by a steady, familiar thud.

Magnus nearly wept.

A heartbeat. His first in so, so long. He’d been missing the sensation for such a large part of his life and had been utterly convinced he would go the rest of his days empty and cold.

He hadn’t expected Alec. Alec, with his soldier’s hands and his open heart that was big enough for two. Who looked at Magnus like he was something worth cherishing. Who warmed Magnus by his very presence.

He reached out, tentatively placing his palm over Alec’s chest. The hard muscle there was achingly familiar. Magnus had traced it with his eyes and his hands and his tongue more times than he could count. But the gesture was brand new this time. His heart now beat under Alec’s strong chest, kept warm and safe by his body and his love.

The steady thud of Alec’s chest now beat in time with his own.

“I suppose it would be cliché of me to say that you hold my heart,” Magnus said, a smile stretching across his face as the reality of what they did sank in.

Alec laughed as he pulled Magnus close, fitting their bodies together. “I’d give you mine if I could.”

A wave of emotion lodged in his throat as Alec bent to place a kiss on his forehead. Magnus was used to protecting others, and bending all his considerable power to safeguard those who needed help. He wasn’t used to the feeling of being protected.

But standing safe and cared for in Alec’s arms, that’s exactly what he felt.

#shadowhunters #malec #malec fanfic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #flufftober #sorry if this one is a bit weird #but that's what i immediately thought of when i saw the prompt #and yes for the record alec walking circles around magnus is deliberately drawn from jewish wedding traditions #he gave him his heart that's basically a wedding #lynne writes fic

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pengiesama · 5 years

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Too Many Cooks (Fic, Gen)

Title: Too Many Cooks Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Gen Characters: Rose, Alisha, Malfore

Summary: Rose and company help Alisha protect a vital shipping lane from attack by a rampaging drake. "Luckily" for them, Rolance has sent their own Shepherd to help.

(Or, "The One Where Everyone Involved Learns a Lesson in Patience and Self-Control, and Also How Not to Stab People.")

Link: AO3

This was my entry for day one of the TOZ 4th Anniversary project, at @tozanniversary! Day two's prompt was “I’m the son of a provincial lard!”.

Check out the other fic and art entries here:

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Rolance and Hyland were now working together on a variety of initiatives. Rebuilding destroyed towns, reseeding blighted fields, purging the land of the hellions that still roamed and of the lingering pockets of resistance to the kingdoms’ treaty. Alisha, of course, worked tirelessly; alongside Sergei, when he was available, but always Rose. Rose was still styling on the Shepherd Incognito thing – she was just used to working in the shadows when it came to things outside the Sparrowfeathers business, and it was easier besides.

There were those who remembered the Shepherd Sorey, and tales of his deeds were spreading; tales made larger than life and more wild by his sudden disappearance, at the very same time hope returned to the land. Surely he will return when humanity becomes pure enough. He sleeps under the mountain, waiting for this day. Leave offerings at the mantle for his seraphic helpers to bring to him each night. Rose was kind of worried about how Sorey would react to having a religion built up around him when he finally woke up.

Rose knew that taking up the Shepherd gig wouldn’t be easy. Sure, Sorey was stuck handling the really hard stuff. (She sent up a little prayer every night to wish him well – she never prayed in the past, never thought anyone would listen, but now she knew that Sorey would and was and always will.) But she was stuck handling the really annoying stuff.

The political stuff.

The political stuff that you couldn’t solve by stabbing with a knife.

The political stuff that you could solve by stabbing with a knife but now you’ve got a very delicate truce situation to navigate and so you can’t.

“…and I tell you this in utter sincerity, and above all, humility: the moment I appeared on the scene, the hellion took a single look at me and turned tail! I spoke naught a word, but the foul creature surely understood the overwhelming holy power at my command.” Malfore nodded gravely, and adjusted that stupid fucking beret on his stupid fucking skull. “It is a heavy burden. I do not intend to upset your delicate feminine composure with my travel accounts – please do let me know if you feel that you are about to faint from terror. But I tell you these tales for a reason. Understand, ladies, that you are safe under my protection as we travel.”

“Cool story, bro,” Rose said. Alisha was stiff as a rail, walking several paces ahead of them, clearly too infuriated to trust herself to speak. “I bet that was totally a hellion and not just like, a fat raccoon you saw knocking over the garbage cans behind the Shrinechurch one time.”

“Yes, it was truly a saga for the ages,” Malfore said, clearly not having registered a word she said. “I am indeed writing a memoir about my experiences, so please, do be patient while the creative process works. Ah, but that brings to mind another encounter…”

The mission they were on today was, indeed, dangerous. They were out to investigate a string of destructive landslides that threatened to dam up a major shipping highway between Rolance and Hyland – which would bring trade, not to mention transport of relief supplies and doctors, to a screeching halt. Preliminary scouting around the area led to the grim conclusion that they were probably dealing with a drake. An impossible task for the Hyland princess and her troop of ordinary soldiers (and her totally ordinary merchant pal who was only tagging along to make sure their supply train kept running smoothly) to be expected to deal with herself. And so, Rolance had graciously allowed Hyland to borrow their Shepherd (who was Totally Legit, and definitely not a fake asshole who didn’t know a hellion from a hole in the ground) to help with the process of retaking the river.

Rose was used to humoring pompous windbags – it was part of the customer service gig. Even Edna and Lailah had learned to live with the situation for the time being. But Alisha…well. She’d been condescended to and insulted and disregarded by people all her life, and had taken it with a kind of martyr attitude; as if it was simply a test to make her a better knight. But Malfore seemed to really be stretching her patience to the breaking point. She’d hardly said a word the past few days – as if Malfore had even let them get a word in, with all his yapping, but even when they were in their tent alone together, she was as silent as a stone, and as prickly as a pufferfish every time Rose approached.

“May I explain Alisha’s struggle?” Lailah asked politely.

Rose jumped a mile at the sudden sound of Lailah’s voice in her head. Malfore laughed magnanimously, and gently patted Rose on her head like a scared puppy. He removed his hand before Rose could break his fucking fingers.

“Fear not, for as I am standing here in front of you today, you can be assured that this story has a happy end. Now, as I was saying, I was wooing the beautiful water seraph who had rescued me from my sinking vessel, when the pirates attacked…”

“I’m going to bury him in dirt and bugs tonight while he sleeps and you can’t stop me,” Edna said.

“Now, now,” Lailah said mildly, not even pretending to dissuade her. “Regarding Alisha’s stress, it is clear that she is upset by Malfore’s falsehoods above all.”

“That makes approximately all of us,” Rose whispered back under her breath. Gesticulating wildly as he mimed the pirate battle, Malfore didn’t notice one bit. “But she’s spent her whole life working with politicians. I’ve seen her with them before, and she’s never gotten like this even when they’re lying through their teeth.”

“It is the nature of Malfore’s falsehoods, specifically. She is clearly quite upset at the thought of him taking credit for your and Sorey’s hard work and sacrifice.”

“And she can’t even call him out on it, or bury him in bugs and dirt,” Edna added. “This Rolance treaty is more trouble than it’s worth.”

“I don’t remember ever fighting off a hellion raccoon,” Rose said dubiously. “Or wooing a water seraph. Unless bringing that stack of books for Mikleo to read on his downtime counts.”

Mikleo was usually too preoccupied with tending to Sorey’s light in the ruins to come along on these missions, but this time it was probably for the best – he’d probably be stomping along ahead, fuming at Malfore’s bullshit right alongside Alisha.

Which, in turn, would have resulted in them both getting caught up in the sudden landslide that knocked Alisha off her feet and sent her tumbling down the mountain. Her form rapidly became a white and pink speck as it was swept away under a tide of mud and stone, down into the river below. Rose heard the telltale shriek of a drake, and jerked her eyes away from Alisha just in time to see the creature charging at them from the woods.

“Hepsin Yulind!”

Edna’s stone fists grasped the drake by its curled, goat-like horns. Rose dug the ornate heels of her boots into the ground; only barely managing to halt the drake’s charge with the armatus’ strength before it knocked her down the mountain and into the drink with Alisha. The drake, undaunted, thrashed its head in an attempt to break Rose’s grip.

“Think fast!” Edna snapped at her. “You can’t expect me to keep this up forever!”

Even if Edna’s grip remained true, their footing was becoming less and less existent, with every stomp and thrash of the drake’s cloven hooves. If they didn’t get on solid ground fast, both she and the drake would wind up careening down the mountainside – she had no idea where Alisha was down there, and would have no way to keep her from getting crushed by ten tons of malevolent scales. That would ruin her day even faster than Malfore rambling about pirates and racoons. She had no idea where that idiot had run off to – he certainly wasn’t helping, not that Rose would have wanted to have to deal with whatever his idea of “help” would be. Alas, Rose was the only Shepherd on call today. What a tragedy.

In situations like these, Rose liked to go by the mantra: What Would Sorey Do?

“Yeehaw!” Rose yeehawed yeehawingly, and flipped herself onto the drake’s back.

She held on for dear life as the drake shrieked and bucked. With the horns in her grip, she was able to steer them – inexpertly, and clumsily, but it was enough to get the drake to tangle itself in the trees and crash headlong into the mountain face. It was stunned, stunned long enough for Rose to summon Lailah’s power and get to work.

“Here,” Rose said hurriedly, lowering the unconscious earth seraph to the ground in front of Lailah. “Keep an eye on them, I’ve gotta—”

“Thank your radiant Lady Edna for her compassion?” Edna asked. She had Alisha held aloft in a bower of vines and flowers – Rose hadn’t noticed her slip away while she and Lailah purified the drake. Alisha was soaked from the river, and covered in scratches and bruises, but was conscious, and struggling against the vines that held her tight. “You’re welcome. Here’s your special delivery.”

“I—I’m so sorry,” Alisha managed to get out. Rose helped her down from the vines, and slung Alisha’s arm around her shoulders to steady her. “If I hadn’t been acting so childishly, I…I wouldn’t have put everyone in danger…”

“And we would have had no heads up that the drake was two seconds away from charging us flat.” Rose thumped her on the back, and Alisha grunted at the feeling. “Believe me, that could’ve gone way worse…speaking of worse, did you see if our friend came tumbling after you? We were down one Shepherd in that little scuffle.”

Alisha’s eyes narrowed, and her expression darkened at hearing of Malfore’s…lack of participation. “…no, I did not see whether he was knocked down alongside me. I suppose we must form a search party.”

“Don’t bother,” Edna said. She pointed into the trees with her umbrella. A telltale fallen beret pinpointed the location. “He’s cowering under a bush over there. Better go get him before the poison ivy does.”

Rose sighed. “Sometimes I really wish this Shepherd gig really was just fighting hellions. C’mon, I’ll help you walk…”

To his credit, Malfore only screamed a little when Rose drew back the leaves covering his hiding spot. He stared at Rose in wide-eyed terror, his complexion pale, his whole body shaking.

“Nice to see you’re well, Lord Shepherd,” Rose said. She dropped his beret back onto his head.

“You…how…” Malfore grasped for words. “You…wrestled the landslide itself, as if – as if it were some charging beast—”

Rose distantly recalled Lailah explaining that humans without resonance couldn’t quite perceive drakes – dragons were a different story, but before things got that bad, drakes could only be seen as natural disasters. Whirlwinds, typhoons. Landslides. Her escapades probably did look pretty damn weird to an outside observer.

It would be nice to tell him the truth. It would be nice to grab him by the ear, and forcibly share enough resonance with him to show him the real deal – show him what a fake he really was. But…Rose looked at Alisha, at the unhappy line of her mouth, at her bruised and battered body. She understood what was going through Alisha’s mind, even without Lailah’s voice to tell her. Alisha worked herself to the bone to improve relations with Rolance. She’d made so much progress, and they were helping so many people. As they helped people, the world’s malevolence lightened; as the world’s malevolence lightened, they helped Sorey. And to keep this going, all they had to do was humor an idiot.

Rose closed her eyes, and gently eased Alisha to stand on her own. She crossed her arms over her chest, and pressed one hand to her heart.

“I’ll tell you my secret – but only you,” Rose said, her expression grave. “I’m an alien from beyond the stars, fleeing from my planet that was destroyed when I was but a babe in my cradle. I was adopted as a baby by a simple farmer couple. This world’s yellow sun gives me ten times the strength of a normal human, and also I can shoot laser beams out of my eyes.”

Alisha blinked slowly, then pressed her fingers delicately to her skull, as if checking for a concussion. Lailah hummed thoughtfully and continued to heal the worst of Alisha’s injuries; saving the rest for when they had privacy.

Malfore squinted as he processed this information. “But…how did you learn to tame the landslide?”

“I grew up on a farm. It was a rock farm. A farm for rocks,” Rose explained, as Edna fed ideas in her ear. “Landslides were a basic occupational hazard. You know how it is.”

Malfore shakily rose to his feet, and dusted himself off. “I was born to one of Rolance’s most ancient and noble houses, so I’m afraid the finer points of farming may be lost on me…but thank you for assisting, visitor from beyond the stars. Had I been alone, I would have been able to best the hellion in perhaps a similar – but more elegant, of course – fashion, but I was too preoccupied with ensuring the safety of you and the Princess Alisha, and, alas, it very nearly spelled the doom of all three of us. My compassion has always been my greatest strength, and my greatest weakness.”

“Yeah, okay,” Rose said. “That’s totally probably what happened. How about we get turned around and get back on the road? I’m sure your bosses in Pendrago will love to hear about you getting this taken care of.”

“Oh, silly thing,” Malfore laughed. “The Shepherd serves no master but the people. But yes, yes, the Shrinechurch will want to hear my report. Do not worry – I will keep your secret safe, and will not speak of your involvement in the incident.”

“Thanks,” Rose said drily. “You’re a real pal.”

“The seraph we saved will follow along with us to the nearest town,” Lailah explained to Rose. “We can perform the necessary steps to install them as Lord of the Land there. They should be able to extend their domain to prevent any further malevolent influence on the sensitive areas of the shipping lanes.”

That, at least, made Alisha smile. Rose sighed and shook her head as they began walking. At least something good came out of this trip.

Though at least now she knew that she could pretty confidently tackle a goat.

#tales of zestiria #tales of zestiria the x #a tenderly crafted fanfiction #tozanniversary

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codename-bewareofthefangirl · 7 years

Note

Hello! AkaMomo anon here :) This time I'd like to request for a different, yet another rarepair of mine, KagaRiko, with Sentence #1 ^^ basically Kagami finds himself falling for his coach. Please put Momoi in as Riko's best friend whom she asks advice from, though Momoi helps Kagami as well because he's a nervous wreck who doesn't know the first thing (anything, really) about girls because he's a 'Bakagami.' Sorry if it's too detailed ^^" thank you and all the best to your studies!

Hi dear! I’mdeeply sorry for having you wait so long! However, I’ve finally finished it!Damn, this was difficult! They are really a rare, rare couple! That said, Ihope you’re going to enjoy what I came up with! Let me know!

Have a niceday!

KagaRiko, Momoi and Kuroko, Fluff, Confession

The Best Cupid

“Okay Kagamin! Repeat after me!”

“N-no! That’s stupid!”

“Kagami-kun, please do as she says. We’re here forthat.”

Kagami let out a strangled howl and banged his headagainst the Burger’s table, covered with empty burger’s packages. He couldn’tdo. It was impossible.

In front of him were seated Kuroko and Momoi. Thelatter had been called as an emergency helper, since Kuroko couldn’t deal withKagami’s love life anymore. Those days the boy was so distracted that he hadhit his shadow in the face with the ball at least thrice every afternoonpractice; his grades were worse than usual and, the real tragedy, his usualbright and blunt self had been transformed into a gloomy, annoyed and lifelessblob. Kuroko needed his partner back. Immediately.

So, he had called Momoi and organized that afternoon.

“Kagami do you like Riko-chan or not?” she huffedpuffing out her cheeks and crossing her arms. Why boys had to be so stupid?

Kagami groaned something unintelligible and his earsturned red.

“I told you, no? You have to be direct and polite.Sure of yourself but not aggressive. Confident yet mature. Why is it sodifficult?” she said shaking her head and her victim glared.

“That’s embarrassing. And not like me at all,” He repliednervously, shivering at the look she gave him.

“Who is Riko’s best friend? Right, me! So, if you wantto conquer her, trust me! With my help, you can’t fail!” she boasted with awide, confident grin that reassured Kagami a little bit. Truth to be told,there was another reason for whichMomoi was sure he wasn’t going to be rejected but Kagami didn’t have to know.

“Okay…”

Kuroko sighed in relief. Maybe, maybe this time theycould do it.

“So, what you have to do first?” Momoi asked himpatiently, like an elementary school teacher.

“First, I stand in front of her and look into her eyes…”Kagami murmured with flaming cheeks.

“Then?”

“Then I smile.” He groaned more and more embarrassed ashe spoke.

“And…?”

“Ask her if she wants to date me?” he dubiouslyanswered, but Momoi rolled her eyes. She was such a devil.

“How do you ask her?”

“Riko-san, I’m headover heels for you. Please, go out with me.” He recited in a whisper, readyto disappear from the shame. As soon as he finished, he banged the head again,Momoi cheered and Kuroko thanked the heavens. They were done.

“This is not going to work.” Kagami whined. He knew hecould have never mustered the courage to do it. Even if, even if he wished forit so hard.

“Don’t be so negative! You just need the right chance!”Momoi chirped and checked her phone. A grin flashed on her lips when she saw thenew text.

“Oh really? Which chance?” Kagami growled annoyed,swimming into his depression. He was a basketball player, basketball was theonly thing he was good at. He didn’t date, he wasn’t interested in girls…andyet, there he was with that hellish matchmaker. How did he end up un thatsituation?

“This chance!” Momoi thrilled and, before he could doanything, she grabbed his wrist and dragged him away from the table. The othercustomers glanced curiously at the terrified and blushing giant being draggedout from the restaurant bya small, pink fury.

“What are you say-?” he barked uselessly, trying tostop her, but it was too late. He found himself on the street, face to facewith a confused Riko.

“Kagami-kun?”

“Coach!” Kagami screeched surprise and he felt hisheart stop. Momoi couldn’t be so evil righ-

“Sorry Riko-chan! Kuroko has just asked me out on adate and we have to go!” The girl chirped with a shiny smile, her arm aroundKurokos waist, who worn his usual blank expression, “But don’t worry, Kagami isgoing to walk you home!”

Momoi then glared for a fraction of second at Kagamiand the boy’s throat dried up.

“Momoi wa-“ Poor Riko tried to call her, but the othergirl was already running away. The coach then watched her phone, frowned and thencursed her friend. She was so cheeky!

The two of them remained there in silent looking ateach other embarrassedly.

“Kagami-kun you don’t have to walk my home,” sheexhaled in the end, gripping the strap of her schoolbag. “I can perfectly go onmy own, don’t worry.”

“NO!” he exclaimed making her jump, “No I mean- Well,It’s- I’ll do it. I’ll do it.” He finally managed to stutter. Riko blushed alittle, but nodded.

She started walking. “This way.” She led fidgeting andKagami moved to her side in silence.

Some minutes passed without them muttering a word,Kagami too focused on freaking out (internally).

Okay. It was his chance. Momoi and Kuroko were right,he couldn’t escape forever. Better telling her and being rejected than mopingaround. Maybe. Or at least he hoped. Damn, why was it so difficult?

“So coach-“ he began awkwardly, but stopped immediately.Damn, he should have started calling her by surname, right? This was so embarrassinghe was going to die. He had already forgotten everything Momoi had explainedhim.

“Yes? Kagami-kun?” Riko called him for the third time,tilting her head nervously. Was everything okay with him?

He looked at her and cursed. They were walking side toside! Side to side! Momoi had said to stand in front of her but how could he everdo it if they were walking?!

“Y-yes?” he hysterically replied and the girl couldn’tstop from chuckling.

“Are you okay, Kagami-kun?” she asked incredulous andamused by his strange behavior, but Kagami fell again into his own thoughts.She was cute when laughing, alright? Really cute. He wanted to be the reason ofthat smile and didn’t give a crap if he was being sappy.

If that confession went well, he could be. He could beRiko’s boyfriend. That was so good he felt drunk only by thinking about it.

You know what? He didn’t care about anything anymore.She was worth a try.

“”What are you freaking out about?” she was asking curious, shaking her head.

“Y-you know,” Kagami blurted before he could eventhink about what the hell he was doing, “I was kind of hoping you’d, y’know…fallin love with me. Please.”

Riko stopped immediately and turned to watch him withwide eyes.

Kagami halted too and stood there stiffly, waiting foran answer with burning cheeks and not daring to meet her eyes. (Momoi was goingto be so disappointed in him)

“I-Is this how you c-confess, B-Bakagami?!” Rikofinally stuttered shocked, hitting his chest with a light punch. “Y-you s-suck…”

Kagami felt his heart crumbling, when she spoke againin a whisper. “I can’t believe I’m accepting it…”

Kagami noticed the red hue of her face and the way herlips tremble to restrain a smile. Her eyes were shining warmly.

Oh God.

“I’ll be in your care!” he suddenly yelled, smilingwidely at her and forgetting all his past worries and insecurities. He couldn’tbelieve it.

“M-me too! But don’t yell!” she shushed him, beginningwalk away all flustered. But Kagami chased after her and grabbed her hand,happy like a child.

She repeated “Bakagami!” under his breath, but didn’tlet go and instead she squeezed gently his hand.

She had to thank Momoi later.

Three daysbefore, Riko’s room

“So? How’sgoing with Kagamin?” Momoi asked, seated on the carpet and Riko sighed.

“Nothing. Ican’t believe I’m falling for such a basketball idiot. He’s never going toconfess!” she complained defeated, hiding her face in the pillow, “Well, notthat I believe he’s in love with me anyway!

“Riko-chan!”Momoi called her affectionately and rushed to hug the girl, “Don’t worry! I’msure he’s gonna do it. It’s blatant he likes you!”

“You can’tknow it for sure…”

“I knoweverything! And trust me, I’m going to help you out! You’re lucky I’m the bestCupid in town!”

#kuroko no basket #kuroko no basu #knb #kagami taiga #riko aida #kagami x riko #kagariko #momoi satsuki #kuroko tetsuya #fluff #confession #best cupid #momoi is the devil in pink #someone saves Kagami #hopeless basketball idiotà

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