#and once again… I still did not do the language justice

[idstilldancewithu]

Forbidden Request | S.R

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Hotchner Reader

Summary: Spencer Reid always thought of every single outcome of his actions, but he did not, when Y/N Hotchner showed up to his door asking for something he couldn't refuse.

Warnings: Talks about being a prude, reader ask Spencer to take her virginity away (kind of) but doesn’t confess her feelings towards him and tells him to do her a favor as a friend, sitting on Reid’s lap, and age gap (20/30). Sorry if I accidentally missed anything.

A/N: Hi! This is the first time posting any of my work. English is not my first language. I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes. I’m still debating whether or not I should turn this into a series, but I hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 938

Part 1 | Part 2

•••

I could feel my heartbeat thumping in my chest, my hands shaking from anticipation as I knocked on Spencer's door, waiting for him to answer.

He opened the door with a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Y/N, is everything alright? Did something happen?" He worriedly asked opening the door wider signaling me to come in.

I walked towards the couch seeing files spread all over the table and books all over the floor. "I'm sorry for the mess. I didn't think I would have any company over."

I shook my head placing my hands in between my thighs. "It's ok and I'm really sorry for showing up unannounced."

He quickly shook his head, smiling reassuring me that he didn't mind. Spencer sat beside me and began stacking up the files in the table trying to clean up. "Do you want anything to drink?" He looked up at me.

"No thank you. Actually, I have to ask you something."

"Yes, of course what is it?" He moved closer to me placing his hand in mine.

Which is something he did every time I was anxious and needed comfort. I was his only exception, because he wouldn't do that with anyone else being a germaphobe. But, it always made my day better. That's why he let his walls down and made his brain stop thinking about the germs that could be transmitted through holding someone's hand.

His boss always failed to notice my state because, over the years having to grow up with a dad who was a profiler, I had to learn to lie and put on a facade when I was around him.

But, Spencer always noticed. No matter what I was hiding, he would always find out. Which is why once I would leave his office, Spencer would walk me out to the elevator.

Once the door closed, he would hold my hand, giving me much needed comfort.

I layed my head on his shoulder as he traced different shape on my hand. "Do you remember the boy I was going out with?"

"Yes, Jeremy Miller he goes to your college, and is majoring in law and criminal justice. He's twenty years old and asked you out a month ago, and you agreed. You also said the boy I was going out with. What happened? Did you break up?"

"Sometimes I forget you have an eidetic memory." I chuckled, trying to ease the nerves that were bubbling in my stomach.

"But, yes he broke up with me. Apparently he thinks I'm a prude, because I didn't want to go further than making out with him. Like, who even says that word anymore?" He squeezed my hand lightly.

"You deserve better than him Y/N and you're not a prude." He quickly reassured me again placing his hand on my chin making me look at him.

"He's not worth your time or attention. Do you understand?"

I nodded in response. "He's wasn't lying though. Spence, I've never gone farther than making out, and I'm twenty years old."

"Pretty girl, there's nothing wrong with that. The first time I did anything with a girl was when I was twenty four. Trust me there's no rush."

The nickname made my heart skip a beat. He had never called me that only Morgan did.

But coming from him, it only encouraged me to ask what I've been meaning to this whole time.

"Spence, can you change that?" He let go of my hand, and moved further from me his cheeks turning red.

"What? Y/N I'm..." I interrupted him.

"I'm tired of guys breaking up with me, because I can't bring myself to sleep with them. Just because I'm terrified of not being good enough. I'm also tired of telling guys that I'm a virgin, and them making it their mission to be the one to change that, like I'm some sort of task."

I got closer to him and placed my hand in his like he had done with me minutes prior.

"I trust you, Spencer. You're my friend, and I wouldn't want anyone else to do this with. I'm not asking you to be my boyfriend." He didn't respond but never let his gaze wonder anywhere else but my eyes.

"I'm asking you as a friend to help me. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I totally understand if you say no, and you want us to forget that his conversation ever happened."

I remained silent letting him process everything that I told him, my heart beating faster than before. But, I could already hear his kind rejection making my chest tighten.

Leaving me to wonder how I could ever get over him. The guy that I've loved since I was eighteen.

But I was tired of only being able to imagine how his hands would feel on my body, and biting my lip everything time I would touch myself to the thought of him.

Even thought, this could only happen once. I was willing to risk our friendship, and my pride to get to feel his lips on mine.

I got up, understanding that his silence meant no. As I began walking away, he spoke up.

"Wait Y/N, come here."

He placed his hands on his lap and patted it. I took that as a sign to sit on his lap. Once I did, he wrapped his hands around my waist pulling me closer to him.

Spencer tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. "How could I ever say no to you pretty girl?" He whispered filling my body with excitement.

•••

Part 1 | Part 2

[zzalina]

One day more or Sale el sol? Los Mis 2010

Okay so yesterday I made a post about Los Miserables 2010 and discovered there's more people who love it??? Someone asked me about the spanish translation of les mis and it was the straw that broke the camel's back for me to finally make a post. You have NO IDEA how long I've wanted to talk about this. Anyway, today I'll be talking about the 2010 spanish translation BUT I already have in my drafts a post comparing the spanish 1992, spanish 2010 and the original english versions. Without furhter ado, here are my thoughts about Sale el sol:

First things first: the title. "Sale el sol" means "The sun rises". I didn't use to like the translation because they could have gone with "Un día más" (as they did in 1992). It means exactly "one day more" and fits the music almost perfectly (you just have to pronounce it a little bit weird but nothing that isn't a common thing to do in songs). But then I saw this tweet:

"The phrase the sun rises instead of one day more to speak about resilience in a country in which the sun was used by fascists makes one feel mental peace, feel justice, feel art and revolution, it feels like recovering the light and coming out of the shadows"

A little bit of context: Spain was in a fascist dictatorship until 1975. There is a famous song from that time called "Cara al sol" ("Facing the sun"). It was the anthem of the Falange, a political party, but it's still used today by fascist groups. In this context, claiming the sun for a message like the one this song sends is really poetic justice and I just love it.

They also use the idea of the sun rising in "La canción del pueblo/Do you hear the people sing?" (I'll make a post about that one too) so it really links the two songs together in a very beautiful way. I could speak about the title for hours, but let's go to the lyrics:

On the left you have the original english lyrics, then the 2010 spanish ones and then the translation to english so you can see the differences. Pretty similar tbh

Marius being so dramatic in every langauge

Éponine's verses are always so sad but there is something about her feeling like she doesn't even exist for Marius that breaks my heart even more 💔

There's a lot I could say about Enjolras' part related to the 1992 translation but that will be a different post. Now take a moment to appreciate how Daniel Diges sings this lines pls look it up I love him

As you can see, in the translation we sadly lose the repetition of "one day more" 😔 Also Javert saying that the revolution will be born dead conveys to me the certainty that he had that it was not going to work. The army won't have to do much because the revolution will die by itself (and he was right, the people didn't join 😔)

Honestly I don't fully understand the Thenardier's part in english so I can't properly compare it, but they're so caothic in both languages, this part is so funny.

My favourite part of the song 😭 In english "Do you hear the people sing?" is the title of another song but since that one is called "La canción del pueblo" ("The people's song") they couldn't keep the verse exactly the same. But it's the first verse of The people's song

Just Javert's part bcs it's different, the others are kept the same than previously if I'm not wrong. Once again, there's no repetition in spanish 😔

I find it funny that since the original one talks about dawn at the end they translated it to "un día mas", doing the opposite of what they did with the title. It made me wonder for years why didn't they use it for the whole song since it fits the music. But now I know and you know too.

If you made it this far thank you for reading the post. If you liked it, there'll be more and if you didn't like it I'm sorry but there'll be more because I have a lot to say ✨

[mossyscavern]

An old what now..?

__________________

“¡¿Él hizo qué?! ¡¿Este idiota hizo qué?!”

Is what Tom heard from the redhead before things took a turn. He wasn’t even paying attention until Sam started going off while speaking in words he doesn’t understand.

“¡¿Que estabas pensando, Meterme con los no-muertos?! ¡¿De verdad?!” Every word he says it gets more confusing, more concerning and…

It’s scary. Very scary… but intriguing, especially when Travis backs into the old couch. Said boy becoming more and more scared of the redhead.

“¡¡Eres un idiota estúpido, un humano sin cerebro, un maldito pedazo de mierda inculto!! ¡¡Nunca deberías meterte con los muertos alguna vez en tu vida!! Follando…” sam trailed off. Taking a deep breath, then sighed.

“I Really need some space.” He spoke, normally this time before storming off to the well. Leaving all 6 to their thoughts about the situation.

“Alright, I bite… tHE ACTUAL HELL!! Was that?!” Tim asked, sounding confused. “I don’t know, but my heart’s pounding.” Tom told him, clutching his torn tie. “… you don’t have a heart beat.” He reminded him. “Exactly.” He said.

“Travis? Benny? You ok??” Lilian asked, said both boys looked shocked beyond their words. “… is Sam possessed?” Benny asked, bringing out his cross.

“N-no, he’s jUsT-.. just mad.” Travis said, shaking still as he stood up from the couch. “You sure you’re shaking.” Caleb pointed out, watching the teen’s legs.

“I-I’ll be fine, just note. Never piss off a Latino.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward manner. “… a what now?!” Tim asked.

“Latino, a guy who speaks Spanish, I-it’s a language English speakers don’t understand.” Travis told them, hoping it makes sense to the ghost kids of the 1920’s.

“Are you sure he isn’t possessed?” Benny asked. “… how can Sam get possessed?!” Travis asked, annoyed at Benny’s assumption with what happened. “You’d be surprised.” “HE’S ALREADY DEAD!”

Travis yelled. A bit later it started a huge fight between the four siblings and Travis. Tom looked away from the scene, towards where Sam went. Nervously contemplating.

On one hand he wanted to leave, look for the redhead and get answers as to what made Sam go ‘Latino’ on Travis… on the other hand he didn’t want to intrude… but the fighting and curiosity was making him chose the first, but he doesn’t want to upset Sam any further…

With how loud the five are and with no choice he limped towards the well, leaving his siblings and Travis to fight about their opinions on the redhead.

‘I hope he’s not too angry… like how she was.’

__________________

To be fair, I wanted to continue what I’ve left off with old language habits…

Except in 3rd p.o.v… originally I wanted to put it as Tom’s p.o.v cause in canon he has his troubles with trying to communicate because his neck is broken.

Plus, who better to partially understand yet don’t have a clue about the situation at the same time then Tom weaver, why?

… because I want to.

[choerypetal]

Meet and Greet / Homelander

summary: Homelander had never experienced an obsession before, nor was he even familiar with the term until he met you at the meet and greet, where you were dressed in a recognizable blue costume.

*Pt-2!! read after this one— *

ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar errors, xo"

Everyone knew that Homelander wouldn't hesitate to admit his obsession with you. His drive to be the best was deeply ingrained in his mind, and during a meeting with the Seven, your image lingered in his thoughts. Fortunately, he managed to hide these distractions before Ashley could express her concerns about the upcoming show—a significant one, especially since Homelander knew you would be attending with your family. He always knows. 

And he was right. Your parents, being big fans of the Seven, never wanted to miss a single annual show. This meant you had to tag along. "Come on, you have to wear it! Make Homelander proud," your mother insisted, holding up a superhero costume made in your exact size. Make Homelander proud. You sighed, wanting to object, but your attempt to call your mother's name was drowned out by the loud music in the store and an overly enthusiastic clerk who repeatedly asked if you were satisfied with your find. She was also wearing a costume, though not Homelander's, which made you suspect there would be more than just Homelander present that day.  

Fortunately, you weren't the only one wearing the costume you had put on for your mother, making it easier to blend into the crowd. However, this also made it easier for Homelander to spot you as soon as he stepped on stage. With Ashley having access to the ticket records, finding your last name had been a simple task. His eyes remained fixed on the screen the moment your name appeared, and he mouthed your entire name just as Ashley's voice startled him, reminding him it was time to go on stage. 

“Welcome! How lovely you all are!” he announced in his typical rehearsed tone. He was growing increasingly annoyed; the whole theatrical aspect bored him. Why couldn't the Deep handle it today? Or even someone new, while he sat in the back, scrutinizing every silhouette to find yours. It wasn’t difficult either, given that your parents had ensured you got the best seats. His lips curled into a sly smirk. Bingo, he thought. It still surprised him that, even without knowing your face, the name matched his expectations perfectly. He had to know. He was the Homelander after all. He knew everything. 

Luckily he managed to let out of his usual monologue, with the new recruits being presented today, it let him more time in his hands. And that also meant, seeking out for you when he had the chance. 

The show concluded as expected, with your mother delighted to see her favorite hero on stage and your dad eager to meet Starlight again. During the ongoing meet-and-greet, Homelander couldn’t help but observe your every move. Despite your apparent boredom, the fact that you were wearing a costume identical to his caught his attention. He couldn't deny that you looked incredibly sexy, and he fantasized about having his hands around your waist, hearing your moans, and you begging for more. 

“Sir,” Ashley’s voice broke through his thoughts, catching him off guard and irritating him since it meant he couldn't keep watching you. After all, as Homelander, he was doing the city justice by ensuring your safety. Right? “It’s time for your meet-and-greet,” she reminded him. With a knowing nod, he indicated he would be right there. Little did you know, you were one of the few fans waiting in line to meet him. 

He wasn't entirely wrong. Once again, your mother had requested you to take a picture with him. You always wondered why she couldn't do it herself, citing being 'just shy,' but deep down you knew the real reason was that she wanted to see her own daughter with the man she fantasized about. Unlike her, you weren't a fan of superheroes and their inflated egos. Yet, here you were, waiting in line between a family and two fangirling girls. 

“Thank you, and have a wonderful day. God Bless you!” he said, flashing a wide grin as he ruffled the boy’s hair after taking pictures. In just a few minutes, you would be up next, and you were acutely aware of it. He, too, was counting the people in line, noting your silhouette emerging behind a tall man. The way the outfit hugged your curves and the cape flowed on your back caught his eye. Oh how he wanted to fuck you right there. He wanted to have you all wrapped around his finger. And he knew exactly how to get you, if only Ashley was there. 

As you neared the photo booth, you reluctantly acknowledged that despite your aversion to heroes, Homelander possessed an undeniable allure. Whether it was his striking blue eyes or his impeccably groomed hair, you couldn't quite determine. “Next,” the disinterested employee called out, mirroring the lack of enthusiasm you had felt upon arriving at the show. Barely glancing at you, they scratched the bottom of your ticket and directed you toward Homelander. It was then that you made eye contact with him for the first time, and he couldn't look away.

"Hello, dear," he greeted you formally, like everyone else, but his tone made him stand out. His fingers gently rested on your waist, pulling you close until there was no space between you. "Say cheese!" the photographer prompted, but Homelander, true to form, knew more than just posing for a picture. "Nah, let me get my best side, will you?" he interjected, subtly extending your time together. The photographer hesitated, eyeing the remaining fans in line, but Homelander paid no attention. With a soft scoff, he leaned closer and murmured in your ear, his voice almost a whisper of a threat, yet his lips curved into a smile when he glanced down at you. "Loving the costume," he added with a quick smile for the camera. His charisma left you breathless, and he noticed you weren't ready for the picture.

His comment caught you off guard, and the way he leaned closer only added to your unease. Sensing your muscles tense at his touch, he directed the photographer to take another shot. The photographer, aware of the waiting line, was hesitant, but Homelander insisted. "We don’t want this beautiful lady to go home with a bad photo now, do we?" That damn bastard, the photographer likely thought, as you glanced at him hesitantly. He glanced at the line, sighed deeply, and the resignation in his eyes mirrored your own thoughts.

Homelander, on the other hand, relished the opportunity to keep you wrapped around his finger for as long as he desired. If he had the courage, or if your parents weren’t around, he might have invited you to join the Seven. But he knew better than anyone that he had to make a good impression. "Say cheese," the photographer repeated, his voice now tinged with boredom. You noticed the tension in Homelander’s jaw as he clenched it. He glanced at you, a smile playing on his lips, before glaring at the photographer, which was enough to make the poor man gulp silently and mirror the same grin.

And that's where his obsession took hold completely. The scent of your perfume, the way your hair was immaculately styled into a neat ponytail, and your lightly applied blush with rosy plum lips—all were irresistible to him. He couldn't deny that your lips were the most enticing he'd ever seen. His fingers now traced the leather of your Homelander costume, appreciating how it hugged your curves perfectly. Oh, how he...

“Done!” The photographer's almost relieved voice snapped John back to reality. Despite maintaining his composure during the photo session, his thoughts had wandered to fantasies of you. He imagined you beneath him, taking his cock so well, one hand firmly massaging your breast, his lips eagerly seeking the fresh milk oozing from your nipples. And you... so vulnerable, so petite around him, begging for more...

From that day on, Homelander never missed an opportunity to see your face again. It seemed almost too good to be true when he later had the chance to meet your mother and requested that you accompany her more often to their annual shows. He promised to show his appreciation, hinting that he would return the favor very soon.

[gothamhappiness]

You are my heaven (Bruce Wayne x f!reader) Part 2

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. It'll be into 2 parts, except if you ask for more. <3

You can find part 1 of this here.

Warnings: no proof reading, language, mention of blood and killing, angst/comfort

He met you up at the Italian restaurant and loved to place a hand on the small of your back. He loved even more how you instinctively leaned into his touch and side. He really couldn't go back to his world. This place was heaven, and he was going to take such good care of his new people.

He listened to everything you said and actually answered. He never checked on his phone and didn't show any sign of being in the rush. You noticed how relaxed he seemed. Just before the dessert, he even reached for your hand and gently kissed it. He openly flirted with you and did his best to make you laugh. It was his favourite sound, with your moans of pleasure.

"You're in a good mood today," You finally commented. "You even took the time to talk to the kids this morning. And not to order them stuff about patrol, " You whispered

It hit Bruce. Of course, the "kids" were the vigilantes he saw working with Batman. He couldn't imagine how amazing it must be to work with other people. To be the mentor of those people, too. Their leader. Maybe even their father? They were all so young, they clearly needed someone to be there for them. And you cared for them, like a mother.

"I... Last night was a little bit complicated, and I realise how lucky I am, that’s all," Bruce replied, hoping you might know something

"Yes, Dick and Cass told me you got attacked by that mad scientist and that he threw at you some weird potion. Luckily, nothing happened. You were a little bit dizzy when you came back home, and you instantly went to bed. I helped you undress, and you fell asleep on me, " You hummed. "Anyway, I'm happy if things…” You trailed off

“If things?” Bruce tried to get you to finish your sentence

“Could... be better, " You admitted and looked away

Bruce was speechless for a few moments. Were you saying that the Bruce of this world neglected his people? His own people? You? He fucking didn't deserve any of this then. It was making things so easy, no guilt, no mercy.

"What do you mean, love?" He asked with a tilt of the head. You still refused to meet his eyes as you answered:

"Well... You haven't been around a lot lately. I can't even remember the last time we had lunch together. And you... you aren't the nicest with the children... Jason came to see me for comfort after another argument with you. Steph had a nap with me on the couch after you pushed her too much during training..." You explained. 

You didn't want to ruin the moment, but you weren't too sure when you would be able to tell him about all of this. For once, he seemed open to the discussion and wasn’t distracted with his work. However, his silence worried you a little bit. Actually, Bruce was angry. It was obvious that the Bruce of this universe didn't know his luck. He was going to be better - oh, so much better - than him. It was a promise. He kissed your hand again

"I'm so sorry. I'll do better. With everyone." He told you, and you finally looked at him, astonished. You had expected some justifications or denials, not this.

"I'm so... relieved. Maybe you could have a little talk with all the kids? And I know that your relationships with the members of the Justice League were getting tense, too. We haven't invited the Kents at home in so long." You babbled. 

Bruce could tell how much you cared about the family and that you decided to push your luck. You wanted your children to be happy, and you wished for Bruce to do better with his friends as well. You were so caring. Bruce was falling even deeper in love with you, and he didn’t think that was possible.

"I will. I promise. What about us?" He asked. 

Of course, he was going to do his best for all those people he didn't know yet, but what he wanted the most was to be a good husband to you. He had fantasied about your life together so badly, and now that it was happening, it needed to be perfect.

You didn't reply right away, trying to quickly think.

"What about us?" You finally said

"I haven't been the best to you either," Bruce guessed

"You saw the divorce papers I asked from our lawyer, didn't you?" You internally cursed yourself. You should have been better

Bruce silently panicked but didn't show anything. Oh the fucker was really ruining everything. He needed to make you forget about this divorce. You were finally his wife, he wasn't going to lose you or let you go. You were his, like he belonged body and soul to you.

"Love,..." He started, but you cut him off

"I was just thinking about it, but I... I don't want to leave the family. It was just in case things went downhill, " You explained, a little bit concerned of what the man was thinking

"It won't," He reassuringly smiled at you

"What?"

"It won't go downhill. I'll do anything you all need from me. I'm so lucky to have all of you in my life. I can't take this luck for granted. I'll do better, " He promised

You weren't too sure Bruce wasn't lying, but you wanted to believe him so badly.

Bruce found a folder with information on all the people in Bruce's life on the batcomputer, and he was grateful for that. It allowed him to know about his history with everyone and to act on consequences. He did talk to everyone and tried to make things better. He apologised and offered his help. He took some time for everyone. He showed he was eager to make an effort. He showed he wanted everyone to be happy around him. He showed he was there for his people.

He also found the mad scientist.

He interrogated him in Arkham Asylum. The man hadn't thought a new Batman would come. He just thought it would send the Dark Knight into another world, and that was it. Bruce asked if there was a way to get the real Bruce back. The mad scientist refused to answer at first before admitting that yes, there was. After all, portals could go both ways. Bruce went to the scientist's repair and destroyed everything before paying hitmen to kill the man. There was no way he would come back to Hell. No way. He would even kill the former Bruce himself if he had to.

The night he came back from the scientist’s repair, he was his most charming self to you, bringing you a beautiful necklace full of diamonds. As he helped you put it on, he complimented you and kissed your skin. He seduced you all night.

In the bath with you, his hands never left your skin. He gently washed your body and hair. He tenderly massaged cream onto you. He covered you in kisses until you would giggle under his nonstop attention. You truly hoped Bruce would keep acting like that because you were falling back in love with him. Hard. You were happy, and you clearly didn't want to get a divorce anymore.

A few days later, you and the children had lunch all together. Without Bruce.

You all decided that a conversation was a necessity because “what was going on with the man for fuck's sake?”. It was impossible he changed that much in such a short period of time. It was obvious something happened with the mad scientist. But weirdly enough, he was now dead and his work was destroyed...

"It's not Bruce," Tim finally said

"What do you mean?" You frowned

"It's not the Bruce we knew. From what I've been able to find, the scientist was studying portals through different parallel universe" Tim added

"You're saying that... He switched of Bruces from two different worlds?" You asked

"I think it's what happened, yes." Tim nodded, and you all stayed silent for a little while

"What do we do?" Duke asked

"This Bruce is nicer," Jason commented

"And more caring," Stephanie added

"But it is not our father." Damian frowned

"But he is acting like one..." Dick replied

"And like a husband." Cass added "His body language... He is so in love with you, Y/N… Like he would do anything for you."

"I... I know.” You paused “Maybe we all deserve some happiness"

“Are you saying we should pretend we don’t know anything? Barbara asked “It’s true that the Bruce we had was… challenging, but he all saved us. And kinda took care of us. We don’t know what this man will do in the long run” she added, and you were forced to agree with her

“Let me talk to him” You offered, and everyone agreed.

You weren’t too sure when it would be the right moment to speak with your new husband about the situation.

One evening, as you were snuggled up in his embrace, you felt like it was the right time. It was only the two of you, and the day has been quite good for Bruce, so he was relaxed. You kissed his collarbone to bring his attention back to you. He instantly put his book down to look at you.

"Yes, love?" He hummed

“Who are you?” You whispered with a bite of your bottom lip

“What? You know who am I” Bruce pretended to laugh it off, but he tensed a little bit

“You’re different. The kids are little detectives, and they think you are coming from a parallel universe. And… I can believe that” You explained

“Why?” 

“Because my husband liked me, but never worshipped me like a divinity of love” You softly smiled

“Well, he should have” Bruce groaned

“So, this is true, right? You came from another universe. And the man I married is there, instead of you?” You asked

Bruce cupped your face and leaned his forehead against yours. He had been the happiest man in the world the past few weeks. He finally had everything he ever wanted and needed. He would sell his soul in exchange for keeping this life. He was terrified you would cast him away.

“He didn’t deserve you. Any of you. I guess he’s there, yes, but I don’t really know. And I don’t care. I want to stay here. Haven’t I been good to you? Don’t you want to keep me? Haven’t I been better than he was?” He pleaded.

You heard the fear and despair in his voice.

“Your world isn’t as nice as here then?” You asked 

“My Alfred died when I turned 18, so I never had the time to adopt any of the children. I did my best as Batman and CEO of Wayne Enterprises, but I’m alone and lonely. Maybe I fucked up too, because my life is a just a mess. I don’t know, but this is Heaven and my world is Hell.”

“We’re not married either?” You wondered

“I’m too much of a loser to interest you. No matter how madly in love I am with you. No matter how much I’ve always wanted to worship you. I’m so happy to finally have you as my wife. I’ll always cherish you.” He admitted and promised

You stayed silent, not knowing what to do anymore. This place was clearly a fresh and happy start for the man in front of you. But what about the Bruce Wayne of this world? Wasn’t it a cruel punishment to leave him in such a lonely place? At the same time, you weren’t sure the man you married would even take care of you like you now were. And you would miss that very much. The children deserved a better father, too. Jason actually started to hang out with this new Bruce. And now Jason knew it wasn’t the same man who betrayed him. Their relationship would be even better. There were so many advantages...

“Keep me” The man begged you “I’ll do anything you want” He whispered again

“I… do want you to stay. But I feel awful knowing he is in your world. Alone.” You admitted

“I can make you forget about him” Bruce offered before kissing you, his thoughts on ways to make everyone forget about the “real” Bruce Wayne.

He was going to stay in Heaven, no matter the price, no matter the sacrifice, no matter what. You kissed him back before gently pushing him away.

“What if he comes back?” You asked “Would you hurt him?” You continued

Bruce didn’t answer, so you knew he would kill him without hesitation. He was a love, attention, and touch starved man. He knew what it was to be so broken that nothing could work out. 

“Barbara and Damian… They need some convincing to not find a way and save the Bruce we knew. I still feel bad but… if I loved him, I know I’ve never felt for him what I’m feeling for you” You whispered

Bruce’s eyes lit up. Being loved by you because he was Bruce Wayne was a thing, but being loved by you because of who he was was so much better. He didn’t know what to say, so he deeply kissed you over and over again.

“Love you, love you so much. You’ll be happy with me. Everyone will be happy with me.” He whispered in between kisses

“You promise?” You breathlessly asked 

“I promise, my love”

--

Part 3

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

Taglist for this series <3

@bat1212

[junhoswifey]

SHE’S JUST LIKE CANDY, SHE’S SO SWEET - NIKA MÜHL

⊹ ࣪ ˖ based on this request: smut w/ soft nika? reader gets fingered while sitting, fully clothed, on nika’s lap. nika holds her arm around y/n’s waist to keep them still + aftercare

pairing(s): nika mühl x female!reader

warnings: language, smut w no plot, fingering (r!receiving), nika being sooo gentle

summary: after a long day nika wants to make her girl feel good.

“i love you baby.” nika whispered into your ear before placing another kiss to your lips. this time the kiss was a little rougher, full of need.

you were currently sitting on her lap and the two of you were talking about your days until it turned to a little more than that. “i love you too.” you replied trying to hold back your moans as she moved down to kiss your neck.

“mmm i wanna hear you babe.” she said as she noticed you were trying to be quiet. she looked into your eyes and you could already feeling your pussy getting wet.

nika moved her hand down to your thighs and rubbed her fingers along the hem of your skirt. she started to tug on it before you stopped her. “want you to leave it on.” you whispered and she smirked at you.

she then pulled on your underwear moving them to the side. she placed her fingers inside of you and continued to leave kisses on your chest. you let out a loud moan at the feeling and this made her go faster.

you start to move yourself on her fingers and she’s smiles at what you’re doing. “you look so good like this princess.” she whispered causing you to smile right back at her.

“feels so good baby.” you replied making her add another finger. you yelped at the contact before nika kissed you again. she slipped her tongue into your mouth, catching you off guard.

you could tell she was needy, and to be honest you loved it. you loved the way she was a little bit aggressive with you but still soft. the way her fingernails were digging into your thigh while her other hand was occupied with your pussy.

you could feel yourself getting closer and your legs starting to shake. she wrapped an arm around your waist, moving your body closer to hers. “i’m gonna cum!” you yelled out as a warning.

“let it out baby. cum on my fingers.” she said locking eyes with you once again. you do as she said, your release landing all over her fingers.

she moved you off of her lap to clean both of you up. she gave you her sweatshirt and a pair of pants to change into.

you went to lay down on the bed and she was right behind you doing the same. she moved over next to you and you laid your head down on her chest. she placed a kiss to your head before whispering, “i love you.”

“i love you more nika.” you said moving to give her another kiss. she kissed you back and placed her hand to your cheek. “goodnight y/n.” she said, wrapping her arms around your waist.

“goodnight babe.” you replied laying back down pulling her closer to you. you lay like that for awhile until you start to drift off to sleep, feeling safe and comfortable in her arms.

⇾ be sure to checkout my masterlist if you enjoyed! any type of interaction is appreciated :,)

⇾ thank u for reading all the way through!! i hope i did this request justice i love you guys 🤍🤍

[muntitled]

sungchan who’s been such a sweetheart your whole relationship until you decide that you want to break up because you’ve started to notice how absolutely insane the red flags were?? but he NEEDS you, and you need him…you just don’t know it yet. and he’ll do anything to prove that! you out of all people, knows that he’ll always get what he wants.

🎀 anon <33

𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘿𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 | 𝙅𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣

- Pairings: Jung Sungchan x Fem!reader

- Warnings: College!au, Established Relationship, Language, Angst, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Obsession, Slight Dark fic, Insecurities, Smut (+18 Minors Dni) Breeding Kink, Slight Dub/con, Daddy Kink, Car sex, Choking, Spitting, Grinding, Degradation Kink

A/N: I really liked this request so so so much. I'm not sure if I did it justice, but this was indeed very fun to write

The very ideology of commitment had always been a foreign concept in his head. Not for any self-righteous reason beyond the fact that Sungchan had just never been ‘that guy’.

For the duration of his college career, Sungchan had been all too comfortable, dedicating his time and effort to becoming the #1 draft pick, this goal being something akin to a holy grail in Sungchan's mind. He would honestly rather die than let anything beyond the court take precedence over his mind.

But now Sungchan is yours.

And your head is thrown back in a genuine guffaw aimed at the sky, as you hang on intently to every word another man is saying.

This is the very first thing Sungchan has had to see exiting the gym, with the rest of his teammates swarming around him.

Instead of waiting in the car, like you usually did, a book open on your lap while Classical music oozed out of your phone speakers, you're entertaining his teammate. Your textbook open as your explanations flow from your lips like a waterfall. Seunghan wears a permanent lopsided grin on his face as he cradles the basketball to his side, bending his tall frame down to you and your textbook.

Although you don't notice Sungchan approaching, Seunghan does. The smirk on his face is absolutely diabolical as he raises a hand robotically and waves, before nodding along to your explanations once again.

Unable to move any further, Sungchan chooses to wait out the interaction along the far wall until Anton and Sohee join him in a flurry of their usual banter.

You laugh at something Seunghan says but your eyes are still trained on your textbook. A thought, ice cold and incredibly vile strikes through Sungchan's brain at the very moment.

Maybe Sungchan just was not smart enough for you.

Perhaps that is why you were giving another boy so much of your precious time.

His frown only deepens with the birth of the vile, uncomfortable revelation. All those times he had droned on and on to you about sports, forcing you to watch highlights of basketball games while his head rested on your lap, raking your fingers aimlessly through his hair.

While he was in heaven, you were apparently in hell.

This illogical jumping to conclusions, seems, to Sungchan as your only logical excuse for entertaining another man so closely.

Sungchan does not bother to hide the grim emotions descending on him like a plague. He only leans his back firmly against the west wall, backpack hanging lazily from his broad shoulders while the rest of his teammates scatter on home. Unbeknownst to Sungchan, his face is lowered, causing a wide shadow to cast over his eyes.

"You're glaring."

He does not offer Sohee any justifiable response, choosing instead, to ignore him as he continues his blatant staring.

“What do you think they're talking about?" He asks instead, the confines of his white and orange letterman jacket feeling far too hot.

"Do you know how scary you look when you do that?" Anton snickers, "Borderline serial killer shit."

"He definitely wants to fuck her," Sungchan continues, locked in on this display in front of him. Your book is cradled to your chest now, and you're looking up at Seunghan with a small, imperceptible smile.

"He wants to fuck her, I can tell-"

"How anyone can manage to pop a boner in the presence of a Psychology textbook is beyond me..." Sohee grumbles, dribbling his ball in between his legs.

"In his own fucked up logic," Anton begins, "Sohee's right." He ignores the bewildered expression of the older boy, choosing to roll his eyes over to Sungchan as he explains, "They're probably just talking about school, like they usually do."

"Nah," Sungchan shakes his head, unconvinced, "They just finished an essay on Freud. She fucking hates Frued. Whatever they're talking about... it's not that." You would not be smiling like that if all you had to talk about was psychology. You enjoyed school, but not that much.

"Your fault for going for someone actually smarter than you."

The snicker in Sohee's tone alludes to the fact that it was somewhat of a joke and meant to be taken as one... but the tightening grip on Sungchan's backpack has Anton glaring daggers at Sohee over Sungchan's bowed head.

"B-But," Sohee injects his voice with optimism, "It's not like you don't already have that on lock."

Anton is quick to jump on to the bandwagon, "Precisely," he says, "Girls date from 100, so if she's already let you consummate the relationship-"

"Just say fuck, Anton for the love of God-" Sohee grumbles,

"-She most likely already sees you as the person she wants to spend the rest of her ride with-"

"Fuck fuck fuck, that's what people do in relationships- they fuck-"

"You're a degenerate." Anton murmurs quietly.

And while they bicker, Sungchan did not have the heart to tell them that, for your sake, he had decided to 'wait' on any intimacy because he was so intent on being the perfect boyfriend.

Your perfect boyfriend.

He had spent an embarrassing chunk of your relationship locking away any urges that arose when your kisses got too heated, refraining from stuffing his hands down your pants when you were grinding a little too heavily in between said make out sessions and stopping himself from absolutely ravaging you whenever you reprimanded him, scolded him or corrected him during your study sessions.

Sex was all Sungchan ever thought about whenever you were in his presence, but evidently, you divulge your attentions elsewhere. You did not need him. The farthest you two had ever gone was Sungchan guiding you to orgasm by the sound of his voice.

How pretty you sounded over the phone line, voice heated with lust and veneered with static as you came all over your fingers in your darkened dorm room, imagining it was his. He had uttered so many 'good girl's , so many fits of praise because it was all true. You were a good girl, and he would fight biblical forces if it meant he could preserve that.

"Nah, fuck that," Sungchan pushes himself off the wall, making his way over to you because now Seunghan has his hand on your arm, carelessly handling what did not belong to him, because regardless of the moral repercussions involved, you were his.

"What're we talking about?" Sungchan cannot forget the way your smile dims ever so slightly upon his arrival. It scribbles itself into his memoey like a traumatizing little etch-a-sketch, making his heart sink in vexation and his abdomen tightening into a knot of perhaps, maybe anger.

"Oh, hey-"

When Sungchan looks down at you, he imagines only his face as the only image reflected in your smiling eyes. You were his just as he was yours, and so it should not come off as a shock to anyone when he slyly throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling you unexpectedly into the heat of his letterman jacket.

Your frame is as solid as concrete, the smile you had once adorned now completely gone.

"Hey," Sungchan whispers to you, but he directs his attention to a smirking Seunghan. Very clearly, all too pleased at having roused his teammate.

"Seunghan just needed clarification on psycodiagnostocs," you explain, somewhat nervously, because Sungchan is splaying tiny pecks against the side of your head while never breaking eye contact with Seunghan "T-the paper we have to do on African Epistemologie-”

“I'm sure Seunghan has a tutor for that.” the arm on your shoulder is fashioned of concrete. You couldn't move out of his grip if you wanted to.

“Don't bore him with the details, babe” Sungchan says, keeping his glare stationed on a grinning Seunghan all while bending down to whisper along your ear, loud enough for Seunghan to hear.

“He still needs to work on that Euro step too-”

“Sungchan.” There is a deep tempest stirring in your tone as you glare up at him, wholly and remarkably unimpressed. Before you could complete your verbal annihilation, Seunghan raises a hand, silencing you effectively.

“I'll let you know how the test goes,” Seunghan says, rousing Sungchan more by completely ignoring him, which, evidently, was the goal. “See you around.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

To say you were fuming would be a gross understatement. You're absolutely seething as you charge towards the only other vehicle parked in the deserted lot.

Sungchan raises his hand to block away the orange sun, settling on an uneven horizon as he strolls lazily after you, seemingly unfazed by his barbaric display of possessiveness Your hands are shaking as they latch onto the Jeep's handle, and you're barely even able to jump up into the truck before he's grasping at your hips, begrudgingly pulling you up.

“I know how to fucking work a seatbelt-”

Sungchan only snickers, before clicking in the belt, “Watch your tone,” he whispers before motioning to place a kiss on your cheek. You block it, flinching away from him and effectively causing a dark cloud to settle over his once jovial countenance.

“You were unbelievably out of line.” You begin to explain, looking deep into Sungchan's eyes as he leans into the passenger, with his arm on the car roof, effectively caging you in.

“I can't believe you did all that, knowing I need people to tutor!" You exclaim, "Knowing good and damn well that that's more money for me.”

Sungchan's eyes are lazer focused on you as he shrugs.

“You don't need his money.” Sungchan begins, furiously trying to keep his voice even, “You don't need anything from him.”

“I don't need anything from you.”

All is quiet as your words seem to haunt the atmosphere like an archaic apparition come to assert its vengeance on two unsuspecting young lovers. You are unable to know what Sungchan is thinking behind those concrete eyes, all until a smile cracks across his visage. A toothy grin that has him chuckling into the air until he's pulling back and shutting the door.

Sungchan rounds the car, head full of the weight of your words and what they essentially implied.

You did not want anything from him.

Or perhaps, you think you didn't.

Once Sungchan is behind the steering wheel, he does not move. He is only swinging his head sideways after a very agonising beat as he says. “You think I'm stupid?”

Your brows furrow, and your heart kickstarts as Sungchan sits back until his head is resting on leather headrest. His hand is stationed on your thigh, and you're not sure why, but a very stark shiver shoots down your spine, one that is not completely separated from feelings of absolute excitement.

“You don't wanna be seen with your stupid fucking boyfriend, do you?” he's not yelling, in fact his voice is perfectly normal. As gentle as the movements of his hand framing your exposed thigh and nearing the lining of your skirt with dangerous precision.

“Babe-” you shake your head, correcting yourself, “Sungchan, where is this coming from?

“You're ashamed of me,” He says, all to plainly before slotting his large hand underneath your skirt. You exhale shakily as you imperceptibly, almoat shyly open your legs further. Never had your boyfriend admistered any physical intimacy, no matter how anxiously you craved to experience his large hands on hour skin.

Did you need to get him mad to have him claim you?

Your morals and values completely dissolve as you throw your head back, allowing Sungchan's hand to delve deeper under your skirt.

“I see how it is,” he whispers, heavy eyes stationed on his hand under your skirt. The very moment the tips of his fingers brush against your soaked underwear, you're immediately grinding into his hand, hoping your desperation will transfer in your stilted movements. He watches, mesmerized.

“Do I need to be smarter for you?” He asks, mouth salivating at the sight of you grinding so heavily against his fingers. “What do I need to do better? It's almost like-” Sungchan's hand disappears from underneath your skiirt and you nearly whine at the loss of stimulation.

“It's almost like I need to get you pregnant in order to listen to me.” He whispers, seemingly to himself before dragging his gaze to you…

“Is that what you want?”

His eyes are piercing into yours as his hand slowly encircles around your throat. He's bringing you over the center console by a single grip on your esophagus, having your hips straddling his.

All in slow, calculated movements.

The rest of the world disappears as Sungchan attaches his lips to your throat, dragging your hips along the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Is that what you want, baby?” His voice is laden with lust. All his previous emotions spilling out of him in the form of sloppy, wet kisses on the side of your face. “Tell me you want me to cum deep inside you,”

A whine bleeds from your throat, immediately snapping his restraint before he's lifting you to uncover his red, leaking cock. Your eyes widen at the side of it, heart pulsing in your chest when it twitches under your palm.

“Fuck, don't look at me like that,” Sungchan murmurs before crashing his lips onto yours.

You're immediately stroking his cock as the kiss deepens, and Sungchan lifts you again, before guiding himself inside of you.

You're sinking onto his cock with bated breath, and he watches you with a pained, euphoric expression. His cock stretches your walls and you shudder as he forces himself deeper and deeper, mumermiing drunken confessions as he assumes a steady rhythm.

“ I've needed to fuck you for so fucking long, fuck,” he is already delirious as he pushes his hand under your shirt, pawing at your sensitive breast.

“F-Fuck Chan,” your eyes roll to the back of your head when Sungchan acts on an intrusive thought and forces his fingers inside your mouth.

“Open,” he practically growls before hooking his fingers inside your mouth. He drags you closer as he continues to fuck up into you with desperation and urgency. Sungchan slithers his tongue out, dragging it lazily against yours before spitting directly into your mouth, all with his fingers still flattening against your tongue.

“Fuck, you're such a slut,” He whispers breathlessly, causing your cunt to clench unimaginably tighter around his aching cock. “You like that, baby?” He asks, returning his hand to your throat. “You like being my perfect fucking slut-”

“Fuck- Daddy,” the words tumble out of your mouth, not for any other reason beyond it just feeling absolutely positively, right.

They evidently have a large effect on Sungchan because his once confident thrusts stutter into shallow motions, as of he was om the brink of cumming right then and there.

“Fuck- oh fuck, I'm so close.”

You can't even begin to explain to him that you're right there with him because your mind is so utterly consumed with pleasure. Your hands are on his shoulders, nails sinking into his letterman as your eyes go hazy with overstimulation and he watches your expression with that same, fucked out, open-mouthed expression.

“F-Fuck, you're gonna make me cum,” he whispers, “You're gonna make fucking cum inside you, baby-”

He twists your nipple, immediately causing a whine to spill from your hips, your cunt tightening around him again.

“Tell me to cum inside you-” He whispers, cock already twitching in warning, “Tell me now-fuck!”

“Please, please,” He's already spilling inside you as the words try to claw its way, out your throat, and you ascend unto your own orgasm. You scream into the stillness of the car as you push yourself down on Sungchan's stuttering hips, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he murmers broken praises and affirmations.

He tells you you're so pretty.

He tells you youre body is fucking perfect.

He tells you every little thing that has your heart swelling more and more in its cage. All for the boy in front of you.

“Fuck,” he whispers, allowing his thumb to ghost over your nipple while you both breath out, absolutely breathless. “Fuck- I thought I was going to kill him-”

“Why would you wanna do that?” You whisper, “You're such an idiot sometimes, you know that?”

He only nods slolwy, a small grin spreading across his face as he keeps himself still very much inside of you.

“Now go buy me a Plan B, please.”

[inkedinshadows]

The Path To Healing

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: A glimpse into different moments of Azriel's life: from his childhood trauma to the physical healing, from his struggles and his acceptance to the beginning of his mental healing journey.

Warnings: angst, self-hate, self-consciousness, violence and blood, mentions of torture, language, fingering (brief)

Word count: 8.9k

A/N: I might or might not have cried while writing some parts of this. I focused only on Azriel's hands, and I'm sure I only scratched the surface of what his trauma is. I'm nowhere close to an expert on any of this, but I tried my best and hopefully did it justice. @azrielappreciationweek

Pain was all he knew.

His eyes hurt from crying, and he desperately wanted to rub them, but he couldn't. He couldn't, because his hands… His hands…

More tears poured down his already puffed cheeks, and his cries turned into a choked sound—sobs that tore through his chest and shook his little body, his wings a dead weight on his back.

“Shh,” his mother murmured, her voice soothing, her touch gentle as she cupped his face. “It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay, baby.”

Azriel didn't know how to believe her. It seemed to him like nothing could ever be okay again. He couldn't feel his hands anymore—they had been replaced by a blinding pain that reached up to his elbows. All he could see when he looked down was a red splotch, too red to be normal.

When his father had heard his screams, he’d called the healers. By then, it was too late, and the damage was already done. But his father had merely given his half-brothers a disappointed look and dumped Azriel in his mother's care, as if he had become even more of a burden than before. He didn't know what he had done to deserve it.

His mom began to hum a lullaby, but Azriel could barely hear it over his sobs and whimpers. She took one of his shaking hands in hers as gently as she could, touching his marred skin when strictly necessary, but even that drew a shriek from him.

“I know, baby,” his mother whispered as she began wrapping his hand in new strips of clean fabric. “I know it hurts. But I need to bandage it so it can get better, okay?”

Azriel tried to hold back his cries of pain as she worked. He tried to focus on her face and the lullaby instead, but he kept praying through it all—to the Cauldron, to the Mother, to whoever was listening—that it would be over soon. Just like he had begged and prayed while his half-brothers had burned him, but no one had come then.

Now, though, his silent prayers were answered.

“There you go, my love,” his mom said softly, placing a kiss on his forehead. “All done. See? Does it hurt a bit less now?”

He looked down to find his hands covered in white linen. The tight bandages applied just enough pressure to reduce the pain, even if only by just a fraction. He met his mother's concerned gaze and nodded weakly, watching as the corner of her lips twitched upward. It didn't help much, though, and tears still streamed down his face.

“Come here,” she whispered, gathering his shaking body in her arms and holding him close to her chest. “My precious boy. You'll get through this, Az. I promise.”

Azriel buried his face in her neck and cried until he was too exhausted to do even that. But his mom never stopped singing him an old Illyrian lullaby, rocking him back and forth as if he were a newborn baby.

She kept going long after he fell asleep.

~~~~~~

Azriel was staring at his hands, at the ridges of his new scars. He knew he should be practicing, but he could only stare.

“What is it, sweetie?”

His mother came up beside him. His father had allowed her to see him a bit more over the last few months, not wanting to spend money on healers more than once every other week when they came to check on him and his progress.

Azriel turned his hands over, now looking at the backs of them. He still wasn’t used to seeing them like this. How much time had he spent looking at them? During those long hours in his cell with no light, he had thought about them endlessly.

Sometimes, he could swear the darkness whispered in his ear, soothing his mind until he finally fell asleep.

“They're ugly,” he said. His voice was flat, as if he was simply stating a fact. Because that's what they were to him—ugly, ruined, useless. Always shaking and itching.

His mother's soft hands enveloped his smaller ones in a gentle hold. “Look at me.”

He obeyed, meeting her tender, reassuring gaze. Even at his young age, he knew she loved him. His stepmother never looked at him like that, on the rare occasions she even bothered to acknowledge his existence.

“Your hands are not ugly, my child,” his mom assured him. Her tone was calm, but there was a new resolution etched onto her features. “They've just been through a lot.”

Azriel shook his head. “They're ugly,” he insisted. “No one else has hands that look like this. They're full of scars and cuts and…”

His voice trailed off as his mom extended her wings behind her. A twinge of pain crossed her face, and she could only unfold them a few inches, but it was enough for Azriel to see the twin long scars running down their length. He didn't know how she got them, but she once told him she couldn't fly because of them. He’d felt an odd sense of relief at that, knowing his mom couldn't fly either—that her blood, like his, urged her to take off and roam the skies, yet neither of them could.

“Do you think my wings are ugly, Az?” she asked. She still spoke with that soft tone, but it was now tinged with firmness.

Azriel immediately shook his head. “No,” he answered. “No, they're not ugly.”

“But they have scars. They're ruined and useless.” How had she known those were the words he used for his own hands? Had he said them out loud? “What are wings for, if not for flying? Yet I can't fly anymore.”

He shook his head again, more firmly this time. “Mom, no,” he said, decisive and unyielding. “Your wings are beautiful. You're beautiful.”

Her face softened, a smile blooming on her lips as she gently squeezed his hands. “Then your hands are beautiful too.” She lifted them to her lips, kissing each one. “Think of them not as reminders of pain, but of strength. You've suffered a lot, but you're stronger. You're healing. And one day, it won't even hurt anymore.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment. “Is it really like that?”

“Of course, baby,” she reassured him, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair.

He knew she was lying. He saw the pain on her face when she moved her wings. They still hurt sometimes. But he believed her anyway, because he needed to.

His mother let go of his hands and picked up the pen he had discarded just a few minutes ago. “Do you think you can practice a little longer?”

Azriel didn't want to. His fingers had gone stiff earlier, the constant itching even stronger now. But he didn't want his hands to be useless, so he took the pen from her.

Almost two sheets of paper were covered with just one word, repeated over and over. His own name. Easy enough to write, yet the letters were crooked and shaky, the ink smeared where his hand had accidentally trailed over it.

With a sigh, Azriel set the pen on the paper and tried his best to keep his hand steady as he resumed the exercise.

~~~~~~

Azriel really wanted to get laid.

There was no other way to say it. Every time he heard Cassian and Rhysand talk about a new girl they had slept with, he felt a pang of jealousy. He wanted to experience it too—to know what it felt like to have that kind of connection with someone and not have to resort to his own hand whenever he couldn't ignore his need.

But he had always been too shy to approach the pretty girls his brothers chatted up so easily. His hands did nothing to help his confidence.

Tonight, though, was bonfire night. Organized twice a year, it was held on the Spring and Autumn Equinox to celebrate the new season. And this year, Azriel had every intention of going home with a girl.

His brothers were laughing and pushing each other as they walked through the muddy streets of Windhaven. He wasn’t paying much attention to what they were saying—something about their earlier fight during training. No, Azriel’s mind was already focused on his plan.

He would keep a safe distance from the fire, where no incidents could happen. But he would scan the crowd of Illyrians for a female who caught his interest, and when he found her, he would approach her, talk a little, and then ask if she wanted to go somewhere more private.

Simple enough.

He was a warrior in training, after all. He had seven Siphons. He was a Shadowsinger.

He had nothing to fear from interacting with girls.

Yet, he couldn't recall the last time he’d started a conversation with a female. In the ten years he'd been at Windhaven, it had probably happened only with Rhys's mother. But she didn't count.

Someone bumped into Azriel, and, lost in his thoughts as he was, he almost fell to the ground. He managed to flare his wings to steady himself, glaring at Cassian as he regained his balance.

“Sorry about that,” Cassian said, though his snicker didn't make him sound particularly sincere. “I've been talking to you for two minutes, but you didn't hear a single word. What's going on?”

“Nothing,” Azriel mumbled, folding his wings behind him again. “Maybe you're just not worth listening to.”

Cassian gasped audibly, clutching his chest in mock heartache as a group of children sprinted by, headed for the square where the first booms of laughter and echoes of chattering rang out.

“Don't worry, Az,” Rhys chimed in before their brother could come up with a retort. “You'll get your first taste of sex tonight.”

Azriel shrugged off the hand Rhysand had placed on his shoulder. “Don't look in my mind,” he nearly growled, checking his mental shields just to be sure.

Both his brothers halted their steps and stared at him, twin shit-eating grins on their faces.

“I didn't,” Rhys said. “But thank you for confirming my suspicions.”

Cassian nudged him with an elbow, already teasing him about girls and first times and wingspans. With a snort, Azriel shoved him away and continued toward the bonfire, leaving the other two behind to push each other around, their chuckles chasing him down the street.

How they had guessed what he was up to, he didn't know. He’d been careful not to tell them, knowing their reaction would consist of snickers and jabs that he was in no mood for.

As he turned the corner, the square came into view. Just like every year, the bonfire stood in its center, rising several feet high and adorned with little homemade trinkets meant to bring good luck and a prosperous season when burned.

They would light it soon.

The square was already packed with people when Azriel reached it. Children ran around chasing each other, their laughs and screams echoing into the night. Warriors gathered in small groups, swords on their back and knives at their thighs or hips, not letting their guard down even during a festivity.

And then there were the females. Most sat together in a corner, chatting idly and glancing at the children from time to time. But some of them—the younger ones, the ones around Azriel's age—strolled in groups of two or three.

How was he supposed to approach them if they were always together? It was difficult enough when they were alone.

Azriel spotted Cassian and Rhys from the corner of his eye and moved deeper into the crowd, choosing to stand on the opposite side of the square from them. The last thing he needed was for his brothers to make fun of him.

Someone shouted a warning, and a moment later, the pyre was lit. Azriel flinched as flames erupted, pressing himself closer to the wall behind him. Even from this distance, he could feel the heat of the fire, warming his skin and casting a flickering glow all around.

He shut it out. He shut out the memory of what fire could do to flesh, the smell of burned skin, the screams and cries of a terrified eight-year-old boy. The shadows suddenly swirled around him, brushing against his arms and neck.

Past. Gone. Gone. Just memories.

Azriel closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, letting the truth they whispered calm his racing heart.

He sensed the girl before even the darkness could murmur of her approach.

He let his shoulders slump a little and slid his hands into his pockets, assuming a more casual stance. When he opened his eyes, she was watching him from a few feet away. Her head snapped around to stare at the bonfire as soon as she realized she'd been caught staring.

Azriel couldn't suppress his smirk. He had grown accustomed to females looking his way from the moment he’d hit puberty, but it still made him feel smug every time. Never mind that they didn't approach him—or that he never approached them.

But now, though. Now he would.

Taking one last deep breath, he took a nervous step toward her. And then another. She glanced in his direction, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, but one more step and Azriel was standing in front of her.

A few inches shorter than him, she didn't back away, her big brown eyes meeting his hazel ones. Her delicate face was framed by strands of wavy black hair that flowed past her shoulders, and he stopped himself before his eyes could travel downward to the curves shaping her slim body. She was pretty. Beautiful, even.

“Hi,” he said, attempting a smile. He wasn't sure it looked right.

The girl offered a small smile back. “I'm, uh… I didn't mean to stare. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It's alright.”

For a brief, awkward moment, they just stood there, looking at each other. Then Azriel realized she was waiting for him to say something more. Right.

“What's your name?” he finally asked, silently thanking the little shadow that had curled around his ear to whisper the suggestion.

“I'm Teagan.” The girl's smile widened. “And you're Azriel.”

Caught off guard, he blinked. “You know me?”

Teagan chuckled, a clear and crystalline sound that eased some of the tension in Azriel's body.

Some of it.

“I've seen you around,” she answered with a shrug. Firelight danced on her features. “There aren't many Shadowsingers here, you know. None, in fact. You're one of a kind.”

Her initial shyness seemed completely gone now. Good. That made one of them, at least. Because if her words were meant as flattery, they didn't work. Instead, they only made Azriel more nervous.

What if she had expectations? What if she started asking questions about his powers? What if she would be disappointed now that she was talking to him? What if she—

Azriel cleared his throat, trying to clear his mind at the same time. “Thank you,” he said.

Too stiff. Too short. Not an acceptable answer. But he didn't know what else to say. How was he supposed to talk to a girl when he’d barely had any social interaction for the first eleven years of his life?

But Teagan must have found his awkwardness endearing, because she smiled, amusement shining in her eyes. “Aren't you going to offer me some food?”

A blush crept up his cheeks as he glanced over to the few tables laid with food in one corner of the square. People were already gathering around them and filling their dishes. Cassian was there too, shamelessly flirting with a girl whose hands were already wandering over his chest.

Azriel turned back to Teagan and nodded, a shy smile forming on his face. “I am, actually.” He cleared his throat—as if it could help him sound more confident—then gestured to the tables with his head. His hands remained buried in the pockets of his coat. “Would you like to get some food?”

It came out too formal, and his posture was too rigid. And simply nodding toward the tables? Rude. How could Rhys do this so smoothly? How could Cassian be so bold and smug?

Teagan chuckled again, though. She looped her arm through Azriel's and steered him toward the food. “You've never done this before, have you?”

He almost choked. It was worse than he'd feared, then.

“No, not really… I…” His voice trailed off, and he had no idea how to recover.

She leaned in closer as they walked, and Azriel became acutely aware of just how close she was. Her body pressed against his side, and he could feel her breath on his neck now. He wanted to take her hand, or maybe even slide his arm around her waist. If only he had worn gloves, maybe he would have dared. Though he'd need to find the courage first.

“Am I the first girl you try to flirt with?” she asked, her tone teasing.

Try. Not just flirt, but try to flirt. He was failing so miserably. Maybe he should just give up and leave.

Azriel could only nod, his face a deeper shade of red than Cassian’s siphons.

“I think it's cute,” Teagan said, her big smile lighting up her pretty face. “I'm glad you chose me to be your first.”

If only she knew what kind of first Azriel hoped she would be… but judging by how things were going, he suspected they wouldn’t get that far.

“I… don't really know what I'm doing,” he admitted, unsure why he was even saying that. It probably wasn't a smart move to reveal it, but it was too late to take it back.

As they weaved through the crowd, Teagan stepped even closer to him, and in doing so, her wing brushed against Azriel’s. They both gasped, and though she smiled sheepishly, he didn’t miss the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I just wanted to be closer to you. I really think you're cute. And I appreciate your honesty.”

Azriel smiled warmly, his heart thumping in his chest. He could still salvage this, maybe, so that his first interaction with a girl wouldn’t be a total failure.

As they stopped in front of the tables, he stepped back slightly to face her. “I think you’re cute too,” he said, meeting her gaze. He did his best not to sound shy or awkward. “You're very pretty.”

Her face lit up. “Thank you, Azriel.”

He was about to offer her some food when a group of kids suddenly weaved through the crowd and ran by. Azriel heard them coming and tucked his wings tightly, but Teagan either noticed them too late or couldn't fold her clipped wings any further.

The children bumped into her as they sprinted past, and she sucked in a sharp breath when one of them brushed her wing. Azriel was quick to grab her elbow to steady her, and something fluttered in his chest when she smiled in thanks. But then her gaze moved to his hand, still on her arm, and her eyes widened—in horror or shock, he couldn't tell.

He pulled his hand back as fast as he could, tucking it back into his pocket.

Too late.

Teagan swallowed, and the silence that stretched between them hit Azriel as painfully as a punch to the jaw.

“So,” he said eventually, feeling beyond awkward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “What kind of food would—”

“I'm sorry,” she interrupted, already taking a small step back. Her eyes darted to the pocket where he’d hidden his hand before looking at him again. No warmth shone in them now. “But I forgot I had to… do something very important with my friend. Maybe another time.”

Azriel stood there, watching her turn and walk away without another glance. The rejection left him reeling. His mother could say whatever she wanted about his scars not being ugly or horrifying, but he now knew better than to believe her.

His hands balled into fists, and he took a deep breath, flexing his fingers. Without bothering to inform his brothers—who were probably on their way to sleep with yet another girl, since their hands were perfectly normal and unscarred—Azriel left the square. He put a few buildings between himself and the ongoing festivities before taking off to the skies.

He didn't return until long after the sun had set over the horizon.

~~~~~~

Azriel wished he could say he felt at least a bit bad for his half-brothers as Rhys and Cass threw punch after punch at their jaw and stomach. But all he felt while watching the scene unfold was a deep sense of satisfaction, which only grew with every new groan.

When Rhys had told him he needed to talk to his father for court matters, Azriel had refused to go. He had no interest in seeing his father or the rest of his family again, and Rhys had understood, asking Cassian to accompany him instead.

But Azriel had followed them. There was no reason for Cass to be there too, not when he was no good at playing courtier. He doubted Rhysand's father had told him to bring Cassian along.

Hidden in the shadows in the corner of the room, Azriel watched in silence as his brothers—his real ones, the only ones who mattered, as far as he was concerned—landed blow after blow. He knew now this was the real reason they'd come here.

Cassian had been itching for a fight from the moment they arrived and he didn't do a good job at hiding it. Azriel wasn't sure Cassian even tried to hide it. Rhys looked more composed, the perfect picture of the future High Lord dealing with minor problems of his Court. But as soon as Azriel's father had left, both of them had turned to his half-brothers with pure rage in their eyes.

One of them had been either bold or stupid enough to smirk. “How's our bastard brother doing?”

Rhysand and Cassian had both snapped. Despite being a few years older, his half-brothers didn't stand a chance. A warm feeling of affection was the only thing filling his chest as Azriel watched the two Illyrians who had taken him in, taught him how to fly, and showed him what a real family looked like, beat the shit out of whom was supposed to be his actual family.

He didn't make a sound, using his shadows to conceal even his scent. They were all too busy to pick up on it, even more so now that the metallic scent of blood filled the air, but he preferred to be careful.

Azriel didn't know exactly how much time had passed when Rhys and Cass finally relented, their chests heaving and their knuckles smeared with red. They straightened their backs, Cassian’s wings still spread in a fighting stance. Rhys, on the other hand, looked more relaxed, but his cold expression betrayed him.

“Don't you dare speak of him like that again,” Cassian snarled. His voice was just slightly breathless despite the beating he'd just given. “Especially after what you did to him.”

Azriel fought the urge to look down at his scarred hands. Being back in his father's keep was enough to stir memories he had long tried to forget. Instead, he focused on his brothers, on how much they must love him to risk hurting and threatening the sons of an Illyrian lord because of what they'd done to him.

Rhys exchanged a knowing glance with Cassian, and they turned to leave, abandoning his half-brothers on the floor. But they stood with a groan, battered and bloodied, still as arrogant as before. If not more so, now that they needed to make up for their bruised ego after being beaten so easily by a half-Illyrian and a low-born bastard.

One of them, the oldest, flared his wings as if trying to appear more intimidating. “He deserved it,” he spat.

Azriel had to stop himself from lunging forward and burying his own fist in his half-brother's stomach. He wanted to make him understand, to wave his hands in front of his face and yell at him. See this? This is what you did to me. I was eight! How could I have deserved it?

But he remained still, standing in the corner with his hands balled into fists so tight that his nails dug into his palms.

Rhysand held back Cassian as he tried to pounce on Azriel’s half-brothers. Cassian looked outraged, as if he couldn't understand why he suddenly wasn't allowed to fight. But Azriel could see the expression on Rhys's face and knew his brother had something different in mind.

“You think Azriel deserved it?” he asked, his voice unnervingly calm. He looked a lot like his father now—aware that he didn't need to raise his voice or his fists for people to obey.

“Well, fortunately for you, I can't show you exactly what I think you two deserve,” Rhys continued, slowly slipping his hands into his pockets. “But I can at least give you a taste of it.”

Before anyone could move, a crack pierced the air, immediately followed by a sharp cry of pain as his half-brothers both collapsed to the ground once more. Their legs lay beneath them at strange angles, the bone of one protruding where it had pierced the skin. The scent of blood grew stronger as the white tiles turned red.

His mother would have disapproved, Azriel knew that. She believed vengeance should not be sought out, and that living well in spite of what had happened was more than enough. Perhaps she was right, and Azriel was as bad and cruel as his half-brothers, after all. But as he stood there, watching them bleed and whine and scream for a healer who didn't come, all he felt was a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing that they now felt a fraction of the helplessness he had felt when they burned him.

Cassian crossed his arms, a feral grin spreading across his face. “Stop crying, boys,” he taunted. “It's not like you won't heal.”

The corner of Rhys's lips curled into a smirk. “I put a shield around the room. No one can hear you or smell the blood. I think I'll leave it in place and let you crawl out to ask for help.”

With a glance to Cassian, Rhys gestured toward the door in a silent command, and they walked out without sparing the two Illyrians another glance.

But Azriel stayed a few more moments. Just long enough to see his half-brothers try to rise, fail miserably, and fall back on the floor. When they began to crawl, using their hands to drag themselves across the floor, smearing their blood over the tiles and their clothes, Azriel smiled.

He didn't care if they were spouting insults at him and his brothers. He didn't care what kind of person that made him. The sight of his half-brothers crawling and bleeding delighted him.

With one last look at them, Azriel winnowed away, his heart full of love for the two brothers the Cauldron had blessed him with.

~~~~~~

It felt like centuries had passed since Azriel had last been this nervous around a girl. It had likely been over a hundred years, if not more, since he couldn't recall the last time he went on a date. Even longer since he’d had a genuine crush. Normally, he just approached girls, or they approached him, and things quickly escalated into a night of sex. But it was nothing more than that—just fucking.

With you, it was different.

He met you a couple of weeks ago when he walked into your little bookstore to buy a present for Nesta's birthday. You were so nice and radiant that he couldn't stop thinking about you, and he lost count of how many times he came, buying books he didn't need and asking for recommendations only to listen to you talk. And then he had finally asked you out, and your smile had lit up the whole shop as you said yes.

He was standing on the other side of the street, watching as you closed up the store for the day. Your dress flew around your legs in the evening breeze, and your hair was styled in a simple bun on your head.

Azriel smiled as you crossed the street. As usual, he had to hold back his shadows as they swirled excitedly around him. “You look lovely,” he said when you stopped in front of him.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, lowering your gaze for a second before looking at him with a smile. “You're not too bad either.”

He chuckled softly. “Thank you.” Offering his arm, he gestured to the street. “Shall we?”

You looped your arm through his, and together you strolled along the Sidra, your steps unhurried.

Conversation flowed easily, and Azriel relaxed more as you talked about everything from your job to his preference for flying over winnowing. His shadows, which had lingered around his wings, vanished completely. But then you got to the little restaurant where he had reserved a table, and he grew nervous once more.

Even with your arms linked, your focus never drifted to his hands during the walk. Your eyes were either on him or your surroundings, making it easy to forget his marred skin.

Until you sat across from him and the food arrived. There was no way now you wouldn't notice his scars, which normally wasn't a problem—he'd stopped caring about strangers' opinions years ago. But you weren't a stranger, and you weren't just another girl he wanted to fuck.

You were sweet and beautiful, and he was drawn to you in a way he hadn't experienced in decades. He didn't want you to run away from him.

Maybe he shouldn't have taken you out to dinner on the first date, because now it was probably going to be the last one too.

Yet you didn't stare at his hands. You acted as if everything was normal, never commenting or asking what had happened to him. You carried on the conversation just like before, and when Azriel, hiding his distress behind a carefully crafted mask, asked you about a theater play you'd just mentioned, you launched into a passionate description of its plot and themes. His uneasiness slowly faded as he watched your eyes light up. You leaned closer over the table, so engaged in your story that Azriel found himself smiling and nodding along, only half listening, his worries about his hands momentarily forgotten.

Your voice suddenly trailed off mid-sentence, and you leaned back in your chair, tilting your head to the side. “What?” you asked with a soft smile. Before he could answer, you tensed and added, “I've done it again, haven't I? Rambling on about something you don't care about.”

Azriel shook his head, his hand itching to reach across the table and brush yours, though he held back. “Y/N,” he said, his voice quiet and reassuring. “I do care. I asked you that question. You just had that look on your face.”

Your brow furrowed. “What look?”

“The one you have when you talk about something you like,” he answered, watching your expression grow confused for a second. “You have it when you talk about books too.”

You were quiet for a moment, and then your eyes narrowed slightly. “Azriel,” you said slowly, but your lips twitched up in a smirk. “Did you ask for all those recommendations just to hear me talk?”

“Maybe,” he conceded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. His heart fluttered as your eyes met, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

He’d forgotten having a crush could feel like this—like being a boy again. Only now he knew what to do.

He’d never been much of a talker, preferring to listen and chime in occasionally, but with you, it was easy. You had your own way of involving him, asking questions or simply waiting for him to share his thoughts. Even though you barely paused, Azriel never felt like you were hogging the attention. On the contrary, you made him more at ease.

After you left the restaurant, you went strolling through the streets of Velaris. Azriel was just about to answer your question about how fast, exactly, an Illyrian could fly when you let out a delighted squeal, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward a small bakery.

“Oh, I was waiting for this place to open!” You stopped in front of the window with a dreamy sigh before turning to look up at him. “I forgot it was today. Can we go in? Please, tell me you like pastries!”

Your enthusiasm was endearing, but Azriel couldn’t help glancing down at your hand still holding his larger, scarred one. You didn't seem to notice—or if you did, you didn’t care.

Your grip loosened slightly as you noticed the shift in his attention, but you didn't let go. “Sorry,” you said quietly, your eyes searching his face. “I got a bit carried away. Is this alright?”

He wasn't sure what to say. The lump in his throat made it hard to speak. That you had grabbed his hand without thinking was enough to leave him speechless, but what you were asking now… it wasn’t just that you weren't bothered by his scars. It was that you wanted to keep holding his hand. Azriel couldn't wrap his mind around it.

You probably misunderstood his silence because you started to pull back. He immediately held your hand tighter, gently squeezing it, as if to silently reassure you. “No, it’s okay,” he said quickly, his voice softer than usual. “I’m just…” Not used to it. “You caught me off-guard, that’s all.”

“I caught the spymaster off guard?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Should I be worried? Do we need to inform the High Lord?” 

Azriel shook his head with a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on you before he gestured toward the bakery. “Would you still like those pastries?”

Your eyes lit up, and Azriel made a mental note of how much you liked sweets. “Oh, yes, please!”

“Then let’s get you some, shall we?”

You walked past him as he held the door open for you, a grateful smile lighting up your face. Your hand remained entwined with his, and for once, Azriel didn’t feel the need to hide it.

You did not let go until he walked you home and you closed the front door behind you, and Azriel had never felt such lightness as he flew back to the House of Wind.

~~~~~~

Azriel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands with a grimace on his face.

Someone had tried to infiltrate Velaris, likely sent from the Hewn City, and Azriel had been called to find out why. He could still recall the blood and the pleading whimpers. But in the end, he got the information he wanted. He always did.

At a cost.

He had long since learned to keep a cold expression, even in the face of the suffering he caused. He was used to it after centuries, and as long as it kept his city and family safe, he didn't care how cruel he had to become. Maybe it made him a horrible person, but his soul wasn't the cost.

The cost was his hands.

Even after all this time, being in the cells beneath the Hewn City was like being back in the cell in his father's mansion. He had to shut down every part of him that felt, bury those memories deep down in his mind, and remind himself that he wasn't a helpless child anymore.

He was a five-hundred-year-old warrior, and he had a job to do.

But once the job was done, and Rhys decided how to deal with the prisoner and the consequences, Azriel would go back to his room knowing he didn't have much time.

He would wash his bloodied hands, though he knew no matter how much he washed, he could never cleanse them completely. He had five centuries worth of blood on them. After they were clean, if he was lucky, like today, he had time to peel off his leathers before the inevitable happened.

The pain.

No matter how many times he’d been in those dungeons, no matter how many years had passed since he’d last been locked in his father’s cell, he still didn’t know how to stop the pain from returning.

It wasn’t as bad as it had been the first few times, and it was nothing compared to what he had felt while his hands were being burned and in the days after. But Azriel still gritted his teeth, a low hiss escaping from him.

He tried clenching them into fists, but the relief lasted only a few seconds before he had to relax them again. His fingers were stiff as he reached for the drawer, a fresh surge of stinging pain hitting him when he pulled it open. Shadows dove in before he could and quickly whisked up a small jar of white cream. They undid the lid, and Azriel felt grateful for the dark companions that had never once left his side now more than ever.

Willing his hands to cooperate, he scooped up some of the soothing balm a healer had made for him. It always took a little while for its effect to show, but pain was an old friend he had learned to live with.

The herbal scent filled the room as Azriel did his best to spread the balm over every inch of his hands, trying to ignore the stinging itch. Scratching would only make it worse, reddening his already scarred skin until it threatened to bleed again.

He shifted to lie on the bed, wings spread beneath him. He just had to endure the ache for a few more minutes before the balm took effect, and then he could try to sleep. He needed some rest after such a long day, if only to have a clear mind when he met you the next afternoon.

As his shadows hummed in his ear the Illyrian lullaby his mother used to sing him as a child, Azriel let his eyes drift close, flexing his aching fingers every few seconds, hoping for a faster relief.

~~~~~~

Things moved slowly with you.

Neither of you wanted to rush into anything and potentially ruin what you both knew could be the beginning of something great.

You went on several dates, and some ended with him spending the night at your apartment, snuggled up in your bed, which was too small for an Illyrian. Azriel didn’t care as long as he got to fall asleep with you in his arms.

But things had never gone this far.

When he came to your bookshop earlier, he had only planned to walk you home. You were tired from a long day dealing with customers, and he had to wake up early the next morning to leave for Illyria for a few days. Maybe it was the thought of not seeing you—even if only for a week—or the fact that you looked stunning in your simple dress, with strands of hair escaping from your messy bun. Whatever it was, Azriel wanted you. He needed you.

His lips parted from yours, both of you already breathing heavily. “I don't want to go home,” he murmured, his hands on your hips, twisting the thin fabric of your dress, wishing it weren't there.

“What do you want to do then?” you asked, amusement clear in your eyes. But there was desire there too, mirroring his own.

“I want to take off your dress,” he whispered, his fingers already moving to the straps on your shoulders. “Will you let me?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Take it off.”

With deft fingers, he slid the straps down your arms, and the fabric slipped off your body, pooling around your feet. You stepped out of it, and Azriel swallowed at the sight of you clad only in your cream underwear.

“If I had known we'd be doing this, I would have worn something more enticing,” you said quietly. There was no shyness or embarrassment in your voice, as if you were simply stating a fact. You did have a point—your lingerie was simple, something you wore every day. It didn't matter to Azriel.

He shook his head, stepping closer to you. “You don't need to,” he murmured. His hands cupped your face, tilting your head up to kiss you tenderly. “You're always stunning, sweetheart, no matter what you wear.”

You hummed, a smile playing on your lips. “Now I want to know what you think when I'm not wearing anything.”

Azriel chuckled, even as desire coiled in his groin. A part of him wanted to toss you on the bed and fuck you senseless. But most of all, he wanted to take his time exploring your body, finding every spot that made you squirm and sigh. Only after he'd thoroughly tasted you would he bury himself inside you.

“Let's find out,” he replied with a smirk, already knowing that, no matter what, you'd always be perfect in his eyes.

He reached behind you to unclasp your bra, and as he tossed it on the chair, he felt himself harden. Your breasts were full and supple, your pink nipples so inviting that he wanted to wrap his lips around them. Yet as he lifted a hand to touch you, he hesitated.

The stark contrast between your soft, smooth skin and his scarred fingers made him pause. He had touched you before, but never so intimately. How could he do that? His hands had so much blood on them. With how they looked, it felt only fitting he would use them for horrible things—to hurt people. Not to touch the wonderful girl he was falling for. How could he be so selfish as to sully you like that? You deserved so much better than him. Someone who didn’t torture and kill for a living, who didn’t have a dark past still haunting him.

Someone good.

He took a step back, lowering his hand.

“Azriel,” you called gently. There was no sign of judgment or disappointment in your voice. You just wanted him to look at you.

Slowly, his eyes met yours. To his astonishment, a soft smile bloomed on your lips.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, taking his hands in yours. He fought the urge to pull away. “You can touch me. I want you to touch me.”

He wanted to. More than anything. He wished he could.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispered.

“Why?”

How could he explain? He never told you what had happened to him. He didn’t want you to pity him or, even worse, to drive you away. Selfishly, he wanted to keep you in his life.

When he didn’t answer, your fingers slid around his wrists. Neither of you spoke as you lifted his hands to your mouth and kissed each scarred palm. Azriel’s throat worked, his heart pounding in his chest. Without a word, you placed his hands on your breasts. You let go of his wrists, giving him the freedom to pull away if he wanted to. But your eyes never left his, and that soft smile never faltered.

Azriel swallowed hard. For a moment, he just stood there, not pulling away but not moving either. Your face was open and serene, as if his scars didn’t bother you, even now that they were touching such an intimate part of your body.

Seeing you like this, so calm and accepting, so soft and warm under his palms… his thumbs moved, brushing over your nipples. You shivered, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing it again, feeling the small buds harden under his touch.

As if sensing his impending question, you nodded slightly. “You can touch me, Az.”

Though he knew it was wrong and still didn’t understand how you could want his bloodied, scarred hands on you, he gave you what you wanted—what you both wanted.

He slid one hand behind your neck, pulling you closer and kissing you again. The other remained on your breast, kneading the soft flesh, savoring every small sigh that escaped your lips. You leaned into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, deepening the kiss until Azriel’s control hung only by a thin thread.

When you pulled back, you didn’t give him time to lower his mouth to your neck. You grasped his hand, gently moving it away from your chest, and a wave of fear tightened in Azriel’s stomach. You had changed your mind. Of course you had. He should have seen it coming.

But instead of stepping away, you guided his hand down. Between your legs.

His breath caught as his fingers brushed against your panties, feeling the already damp fabric beneath his touch.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice almost too quiet to hear. “Are you sure?”

You were smiling again. “Yes. Please, Az.”

He didn’t know how to say no. He knew he should have, that he was unworthy of touching someone so pure and lovely. But you had already pushed the fabric aside, and he groaned as your slick arousal coated his fingertips. Before he even realized what he was doing, his fingers found your clit, drawing a soft moan from you.

The thin thread holding his control snapped at the sound, and Azriel let himself give in.

He pulled you closer, his eyes locked on yours as his fingers explored what they shouldn’t. At the first sign of hesitation or revulsion, he was ready to stop. But pleasure was the only emotion etched across your face, and he could see the desire for more burning in your eyes. Yet you were letting him set the pace, giving him time to accept your permission to touch you.

He slipped a finger between your folds, teasing your entrance before tentatively easing it inside, just a little.

Your hips bucked, and your voice came out as a needy whisper. “Please…”

Azriel hesitated for only a split second before pushing his finger all the way in. You were soft and warm, and you both groaned as your walls clenched around it. He couldn’t believe you were letting him do this, but he couldn’t stop now.

As he slowly pumped it in and out, your hips began to rock against his hand to match his movements. He watched in contemplation as your eyes fluttered close and your lips parted slightly, a breathy moan slipping out when he couldn’t resist the urge to add a second finger.

“Azriel…” you murmured. “Feels so good…”

The sound of his name on your lips sent a wave of heat through his body. His wings rustled quietly behind him, and his cock throbbed in his pants. He pulled his hand away, relishing your disappointed whimper.

You hadn’t run away from him. You didn’t let his scars intimidate you, or shape your opinion of him. You weren’t bothered by his marred fingers touching you; on the contrary, you craved them inside you. So why, despite the voice in his head whispering that he wasn’t worthy of it, should he deny you something you both wanted so badly? He wanted to taste you, to make you come on his fingers, and see how much pleasure they could bring you.

“I want to do this properly,” he murmured, gently guiding you to the bed. “Will you lie down for me, sweetheart?”

Your face lit up with a smile, and you slipped out of your panties. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you spread your legs, baring yourself to his hungry gaze.

As Azriel knelt between your parted thighs, he pushed every thought about his hands out of his mind, focusing only on the beautiful girl before him and the warmth settling in his heart.

~~~~~~

Azriel jolted awake, his chest heaving. He lifted his hands in front of him, the dim light of the moon casting shadows across them.

They were fine. Scarred as always, but fine.

He took a deep breath as he lay back down. It was just a nightmare—memories coming back to haunt him in his sleep every now and then. Even after centuries.

“Az?”

He cursed silently as you stirred beside him, turning to face him. He could see your struggle to open your eyes, your voice a sleepy mumble.

“Are you okay, love?”

“Yeah,” he whispered back, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It's alright.”

It always was with you. You never complained when his nightmares disrupted your sleep. He didn't have them as often since you'd moved in together, fortunately. Sleeping next to you helped, but it wasn't a cure.

“Did you have a nightmare?” you asked quietly. With your head resting on his chest, you could probably hear the rapid thumping of his heart. He willed it to slow.

“It's fine, sweetheart,” he sighed. He pressed a kiss to your hair, and his tone was softer when he spoke again. “Go back to sleep.”

You curled up against him, and he thought you might let it go. But instead, you continued to look up at him. “You know you can talk to me if you want.”

“I know,” he murmured. You’d always been there for him when he needed it. You had been since the moment you met a year ago, and he was grateful for it every single day. He couldn't wait for your mating ceremony in two weeks and prove once more how much you meant to him.

You shifted in his arms, and then your head was on the pillow next to his, your face only inches away from his. You reached for his hand and lifted it up to your lips, kissing his palm, his fingers, his knuckles.

Azriel watched in silence, a lump in his throat. His heart still raced, and he felt the sudden urge to cry. He didn't even need to tell you what he needed, what burdened him. You always knew. Even before the bond snapped, you'd understood him effortlessly.

“Your hands are fine,” you murmured against his marred skin. “And so are you. You're fine. They can't hurt you anymore.”

Azriel closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. He buried his face in your neck, freeing his hand from your gentle grasp so that he could hold you tighter and press his body against yours. He draped his wings over you, unwilling to let go.

Your fingers stroke through his black curls. “I'm here, my love.” Your voice was soothing and soft, and Azriel felt like the helpless child he'd been five hundred years ago—needing reassurance, care, love. Maybe he would always need those things.

“You're here with me. You're safe now.”

He couldn't stop them, then. Tears slipped past his eyelids, rolling down his cheeks and dampening the skin of your neck. But your gentle caresses and soothing words never faltered.

“It's alright,” you whispered. Your warmth seeped into him, and he felt so cared for that even the last of his walls began to crumble. A broken sob tore through him.

“You're safe, my love.” You cradled his head against your neck, lips brushing his hair. “You can let it all out.”

Azriel did. You'd helped him through difficult moments before, but he had always held back because he didn't want to feel weak. He didn't want you to think he was weak. But if he’d learned anything from you, it was that crying didn't make him weak. That letting his feelings pour out through tears was better than burying them deep down for centuries.

So, he let them rise to the surface. The pain, the anger, the grief for the childhood he’d never had, the bitterness and frustration.

He had never cried about it before, but as he did, he could see it, for the first time in his life—a small light, a way out of the endless cycle of self-pity and hate he'd fallen into.

Maybe his mother had been right all those years ago. He was still healing, even after five centuries. He didn't know how much longer it would take, but maybe he’d reach a point when the nightmares stopped, his hands didn't hurt, and he could accept his scars. And maybe, one day, he wouldn't need his mother or his mate to remind him that his hands weren't ugly.

Azriel had no idea for how long you let him cry and sob in your arms. He had so many pent-up emotions, so much he still couldn't express, words he couldn't voice. But it was a start. And as exhaustion dragged him back to sleep, the weight on his chest, on his heart and soul, felt a little lighter.

Yet you still held him close, stroking his black curls long after he fell asleep.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[targayrenss]

Join Me In Death-Eddie Munson

summary: Eddie manages to escape from the Upside Down and receives the terrible news that you, his girlfriend, had been murdered at the hands of Jason and his gang seeking to avenge Chrissy.

Guilty of your death, he decides to seek revenge at his own hands.

authors note:English is not my first language so please excuse any mistakes (feel free to correct me)

This was a bit inspired by The Crow and Join Me In Death by Him since I love the band, I hope you enjoy it.

Eddie had woken up disoriented, he began to cough in search of some air among so much dust.

He recognized his surroundings, he was still in the upside down only now it looked different.

No more bats, no lightning, no neighbor.

With pain he stood up, there was no trace of the bites caused by the demobats, only blood and pieces of his shirt missing.

He began to walk looking for a way out, it took him time due to the pain he felt, his head was pounding with pain, his heart ached without knowing why.

When he managed to get out he went straight to his trailer, he hoped that there was no one home but unfortunately it was not like that.

“Eddie?”

Wayne who was sitting in the same place as always while watching TV stood up while his eyes filled with tears without being able to believe what he saw.

He quickly pulled Eddie into a warm hug.

“W-we thought you were dead, we buried the only thing that kid of yours managed to rescue from you along with his body”

Eddie walked away from Wayne in confusion.

“Whose body?”

Wayne immediately noticed his mistake.

“I think I should call your friends for this”

Eddie was begging Wayne to tell him what he was talking about, but he refused until the others were here, he didn't want to be the one to give him the terrible news, not his boy.

Minutes later the door was knocked hard, Eddie could hear Steve's voice scolding Dustin.

He opened the door finding himself once again with his friends.

Dustin hugged him with emotion almost taking both of them to the floor “yeah, I missed you too Henderson”

As they hugged each other he saw how the others looked at him with pity, his chest felt tighter than in the Upside Down.

They asked him to sit down and not lose control but the anxiety was eating him alive.

Nancy sighed before speaking “while you were hiding and we were looking for clues, Jason Carver decided to gather a small search party.

Eddie nodded “I know, I remind them that they found me”

This time it was Robin’s turn “you weren’t the only one they found”

Steve quickly hit Robin, who moaned in pain

“What?

“They found y/n”

Eddie felt like his heart had stopped, this whole haunted town thing had distracted him so much that he hadn’t had time to think about you.

“Jason did to her what he thinks you did to Chrissy”

Eddie searched Wayne’s eyes hoping it was all just a simple joke in very bad taste, but he only found tears.

Wayne loved you as much as he loved you, you almost lived with them, you never spent time in your own house.

They were your house.

“Hopper is official again, we are doing everything we can to seek justice for her, but some people think…” Nancy stopped.

“You think!?”

“You think she was also involved with Chrissy’s death”

Eddie began to cry not caring that everyone was watching, you were dead because of him.

Those idiots murdered you and you didn’t get the justice you deserved.

He ran out of the trailer, ignoring Dustin and Wayne’s screams.

A loud thunder unleashed the cold rain, as if the world knew that they had lost you forever.

His mind clouded by the memories of you two led him to the old Hawkins cemetery.

He desperately searched for the tombstone with your name, without knowing it he spent two hours searching desperately until he finally found you.

A tombstone with your name on it and next to it one with his.

Yours was adorned with red roses and his with white roses, both had been painted with hateful messages in red.

He fell to his knees in front of your tombstone, he couldn't believe that it was you who was buried in a coffin that he would never be able to open.

He was going to avenge you, all those who hurt you will pay in the worst possible ways.

[chilschuck]

Not sure how to put this into words (again) but... Chilchuck with a very affectionate reader, one that's always wanting to hug him and hold his hand. Hopeless romantic falls in love with divorced man in his midlife???

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WAHHH ANOTHER ADORABLE REQUEST FROM YOU ANON!!! i hope i did it justice!! i wrote this cozy in bed half asleep so it may be more sappy than usual…. Hshkshsjshksj. i hope you enjoy!! <333

— INTERTWINED: chilchuck x gn!reader.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none, fluffy + sfw!!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 988. short but sweet!

✦ decided to give you a drabble instead of hcs this time, hope that’s okay!! this was super fun and i would love to elaborate more on the idea, hehe. <333

Physical touch was your love language, that much was clear. With the other party members, you found yourself patting their shoulder or back as you passed. Maybe even offering a hug here and there when you felt it was needed. Yet, with Chilchuck, you discovered your love language really stood out.

When he offered a hand to you to help with your balance, you would take it, giving it a light squeeze in return. Even when you were fine on your feet again, you still didn’t want to let go. You craved his touch so much that even in darker parts of the dungeon, you intertwined your fingers with his. The first time you did it, you could practically hear the sound of his head turning to give you a look. If he was uncomfortable with your touch, he didn’t verbalize it. Instead, he understood what you were seeking, and helped to give you a bit of that comfort.

Hand holding was easy to hide your true intent with, but you began craving even more. Your bravery would shine through when you’d feel his hand in yours long enough, and pretty soon you were setting up your bedroll beside his.

Chilchuck blinked, looking up from situating under his blanket to raise a brow towards you. “What are you doing?”

Biting back a laugh at his oblivious question, you decided to give a light grin instead. “Wanted to sleep beside you tonight. Heard you were warm.” That caused his face to heat up, as he fussed and grumbled about Izutsumi under his breath. Not able to hold back that laugh any longer, you giggled at his behavior before getting cozy in your own covers.

“Goodnight, Chilchuck.” You spoke softly, reaching out a hand to rub his back for a moment. Your touch was soft, cautious, and full of a need to feel him under your palms. Instead of complaining about your affections, you noticed his eyes begin to grow heavy. Stifling a yawn, he ran his fingers through his hair before saying your name. “‘Night.”

You’d willingly call yourself a hopeless romantic. Enjoying the time you spent by his side and the small touches you managed to give, of course you’d begin to crave more. It was no longer enough just to give his hand an occasional squeeze or a reassuring pat on his shoulder. You noticed you’d often daydream about what it’d be like to hold him, and soon enough, you couldn’t take it anymore.

One night, the half-foot seemed to be lost in thought. He stared at his hands in his lap, tuning out any voices chatting around him. Except, of course, your own.

“Chilchuck?” You called in that sweet tune that always made an appearance when it came to him. “You okay? You seem preoccupied.”

Sitting beside him, you waited until he gave a reply in that tired tone you had grown used to. “Just thinking.”

Before you could stop yourself, you wrapped an arm around him, pulling him gently to you. The hug was brief, but enough to knock him out of his stupor and widen his eyes. When you let him go, you made sure that every little detail of his chest pressed against yours would remain in your memory.

“You looked like you needed a hug.”

And he did. He always did when it came to you. It was strange, but he began waiting for your touches, your hands intertwining with his, your gentle caresses when he struggled to sleep. Chilchuck cleared his throat, trying once again to ignore the slight feeling of pink rising in his cheeks. “…Thanks.”

It was strange just how much you were doing to him. It was obvious what your intentions were, yet he couldn’t seem to make himself turn you down. He wondered, with a small smile, just what you’d pull him into next.

“You seem to let them do anything, huh?” Marcille questioned him one day, the two of them walking ahead of the rest of the party. Chilchuck gave a light scoff in response, his hands resting behind his head as they usually did. At least, when they weren’t intertwined with yours.

“That’s not true and you know it.” It was Marcille’s turn to make a sound, a huff of unconvinced laughter leaving her lips. Rolling her eyes, she thought about all she could throw in his face to tell him otherwise.

The constant hand holding, the sleeping next to each other, the soft hugs you would give him anytime you could. You’d even offer to rub his back for him to help him get sleepy again, something he was growing more and more tempted to accept. Counting on her fingers as she listed all the offenses, Chilchuck grew increasingly more embarrassed. He managed to somehow hide into his neckwarmer, before barking out, “Ok, ok, enough! Alright, I get it. No need to be a smartass.”

Marcille was definitely proud of herself, wondering just how much of this would end up like one of her romance novels. Maybe what he needed was someone much more romantic then he was, a foil to his cynical character.

She felt herself grin.

Chilchuck could deny it, but many things about you made him soft. Your smile, the way it crinkled your eyes, the way it lit up a room like some sort of magic. It was almost too much to bear, yet like a moth to a flame, he couldn’t help but gravitate towards it.

Maybe your hopeless romanticism was beginning to rub off on him or something. Especially, as he finally tucked himself in for the night next to you, he still longed for your affection. You had somehow managed to captivate a man who felt he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, seek love again. You proved him wrong on countless occasions, and even as he felt his eyes begin to succumb to sleep, your voice called him home.

“Goodnight, Chilchuck.”

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <33

[rainylana]

“Don’t cry.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: a spa session with your new boyfriend turns out to be both of your breaking points.

requested by anonymous! i hope you like it and that I did it justice! i kind of took it and ran. i made it much more deep than i initially planned, so i hope you like it!

warnings: talk of sexual abuse and rape, with both eddie and reader, angst and tears, language, mentions of drug dealing and absent parents. reader is struggling to connect with eddie and he doesn’t know why, kinda leaves in a cliffhanger??

Sometimes Eddie wondered if you liked him, because half the time it didn’t seem like you did. You’d become stand-offish, quiet, shrink in on yourself. His “Are you okay?” was always met with an “I’m fine.” and nothing more. It always seemed like you were protecting yourself. Not just from him, but from everyone. You loved his friends, but sometimes they scared you. You never knew who to trust. Would one of them hurt you, given the chance?

One thing was for sure though, you loved Wayne. He was like the father you never had growing up. From the way he talked, looked, his personality, it reminded you of a father. Eddie was extremely lucky to grow up with him while he did.

Eddie wasn’t stupid, however, he knew some of your behavior had to do with your upbringing. You’d shared some of it with him before, time and time again, here and there. You’d grown up pretty similarly to him. Dead beat parents that abused you, surrounded by their friends who eyed you like a piece of meat for them to chew on. When you grow up like that, you’re bound to be a little messed up. Eddie understood that. He was the same way.

But with you, it was different. He didn’t want you to feel that way around him. The relationship hadn’t been going on for that long and was still fairly fresh, but he wanted you to trust him. And even dating might have been a stretch, you were just very good friends who weren’t very good friends with anyone else.

You liked Eddie, maybe even loved him, but there was no lying when it came to the fact you were struggling to connect with him. Could you really trust him? Was he just like the men from your childhood? Would he fuck you and ultimately leave once he got his full satisfaction? You’d cried yourself to sleep many of times during the night at the thought.

Sometimes you didn’t feel safe. Not with him, not with his friends. You only ever felt truly safe with Wayne. You didn’t know why. You hated the way you felt. Eddie was a good man. He was good to you. He had yet to do anything that proved otherwise. But the dark corners of your mind lingered closer and closer to the edge, reminding you of what once was your reality on the daily. You hoped this time it was different.

“I like this color on you.” Eddie’s tongue was stuck out in concentration, one hand holding your foot, the other holding the brush of the pink nail polish bottle. “It’s cute.”

“Pink?” You smirked. “You like pink?”

“On you.” His lashes fluttered up to you briefly.

The gesture was cute, but anytime he did something sweet like this you couldn’t help but think if he was luring you into a trap. Your stomach was littered with jitters and nerves. Day by day your anxiety was staring to become more out of control. You thought about ending things with him. It wasn’t fair to him to not give the relationship your all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d miss him dearly.

“Well, thanks.” You smiled softly. “I don’t like painting them by myself. The angle is too hard.”

He muttered a Mhm with his tongue out, blowing on your little toe so the pain would dry. “I used to paint my nails black when I was a teenager.” He said.

“Really?” You said amusedly. “Why’d you stop?”

“Got out of the habit, I guess.” He dipped the brush back in the bottle. “Plus, not that I cared, but kids at school were givin’ me shit about it.”

You knew Eddie had the same childhood you did, in some sense anyways. Eddie wouldn’t talk about it much, especially never about his mother. But his dad was something you knew struck a nerve. You should share your traumas together, that’s what you always told yourself. You knew you both could relate to one another, but the relationship was still too fresh. Maybe neither was ready for that.

“Want me to do your fingers?” Eddie asked, blowing on your last toe as he finished up his fine work. “I gotta say, babe, I did pretty good.”

You flexed your freshly painted toes and grinned at his work. “You did! Thank you.”

He put the bottle on the table and plopped down beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “So what now? What’s next on the spa list?” He smirked and you did the same, laughing breathily.

“I won’t make you succumb to all my girly stuff.” You laughed. “Anything I can do for you? Your hair looks like it needs brushed a little.”

“What?” He gave you an incredulous look. “I keep my hair very much maintained, thank you.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t, Eddie.” You rolled your eyes. “All I said was it needed brushed a little.”

You hopped up and got your plastic hairbrush from the bathroom, pointing at him with it when you returned. “Your turn to be pampered. Sit on the floor.”

He shook his head amusedly and sat down where you had, your legs falling at the sides of his shoulders as you gently began combing out his curls. He didn’t mean to, but he sighed in content.

“Feel good?” You gave a shit eating grin.

“You’re a-lot gentler than Wayne used to be.” He relaxed under your touch. “He always pulled at my hair and got it more ratted up than it already was. This feels good.”

You smiled at the mention of Wayne. “Well, I’ve got a woman’s touch, honey.”

“Yes, you do.”

It was quiet and peaceful for a while as you brushed his hair, the both of you content in the silence. When he touched your ankle, caressing it, your heart began to pound. You hadn’t had sex with him yet. You were too scared to. You knew it was time, it had been almost two months and you knew Eddie had long since been ready to sleep with you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You did. You fantasized about him just as much as he did you, but you were terrified of him leaving once you finally crossed that line. Out of instinct, you brought your legs up to you, sitting criss-cross like he was.

You heard him sigh and your stomach ached with guilt. You should give him what he wants.

“I’m sorry.” You say guiltily.

“You never let me touch you.” Eddie said flatly, staring at the ground as you continued to brush his hair. “And you won’t tell me why.”

Your eyes teared up and you stopped brushing, bringing it down to your lap. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you say.” He shook his head. “You don’t need to be sorry. You just need to tell me why I scare you so bad.”

“You don’t.” You denied, trying your hardest to convince him. When he said things like this, you felt foolish for thinking the way that you did. “It’s just- it’s- it’s just me.”

Eddie turned around, looking up at you to find you with tears in your face. “If it wasn’t true you wouldn’t be crying. Don’t I deserve the truth, Y/n? Have I don’t anything at all to make you scared of me?”

“No.” You sniffled, getting off the couch to go into the kitchen of his trailer. “You haven’t.”

Eddie watched you, becoming more and more anxious by the second. He sat there, waiting for his answer, anything but no. “Do you want to break up?”

“No!” You cried, shaking your head wildly. “No, that’s not what I want.”

“You don’t even like me, Y/n.” He scoffed to himself, closing in, becoming cold and shutting down. Something he hadn’t done in a long time. “You won’t open up to me. I can barely touch you. You look like you’re disgusted to be around me.”

“That’s not true!” You snapped, taking a step toward him. “Stop saying shit like that!”

“Then you say something for a change!” He argued back, not moving from his spot on the floor.

“But it’s so stupid!” You shook your head. “It’s ridiculous!”

He gave you a look. He was waiting and he wouldn’t back out this time. Either that, or he was going to break up with you. The thought made you want to vomit. Maybe you did care more deeply for him than you were letting on.

“We don’t talk about what happened when we were kids,” You sighed through tears, voice breaking. “We’re..both the same, but we don’t talk about it.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as you began, wondering after all, if he wanted to hear where you were going with this.

“Mom wasn’t around, so that left dad and his friends.” You stared at him, being as open and honest as you could now. There was no beating around the bush with this. “I…Jesus,” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal at the time, but they’d…they’d use me.” You took a deep breath after the last word. No stopping now.

“They would play poker, touch me, rape me.” You weren’t crying anymore, talking mostly to yourself now at this point. “And I know you would never do that to me, Eddie, but sometimes I’m so afraid of it happening again and I just shut down.” You closed your eyes. “You touch me and I’m so afraid you’ll abandon me once we sleep together. That’s all anyone has ever done in my life.”

“Fuck me, then leave.” You sniffled. “That’s all they ever do.”

Eddie’s eyes were drooping, slightly narrowed and brows furrowed. He shook his head softly, you almost missed it, and you knew you’d made him at a loss for words.

He looked up to you briefly, licking his lips before he spoke. “There was this one guy my dad would deal for,” He began. “He was a big dude, almost seven foot. I was only thirteen. But dad would bring him into the house and he…would look at me. Just watch me wherever I went.” He stared at his hands, not daring to look at you.

“I think he payed dad.” His voice broke, but he refused to let any tears fall. “Because I screamed and screamed and he wouldn’t come.”

You let out an audibly gasp and covered your mask, your heart falling to the floor with a splat.

“Oh, god, Eddie,” You crawled to the floor and knelt beside him.

“It’s okay.” He stopped your apologies. “I didn’t tell you for you to be sorry for me. I told you because you need to know you’re not alone, and not everyone is out to get you. You’re safe with me. I want you to believe that.”

You let out a wet sob, tears rolling down your red face. “How do I stop being scared? I want to be with you.”

He smiled softly, a finger swiping at a tear. “We have all the time in the world for that, angel.”

You grabbed his arm and laid your head against his shoulder, sobbing like a broken child.

“Oh, baby,” He kissed your forehead. “Don’t cry.”

It would be a long road to recovery, but you could both do it together. Slowly, every day you would both open up to each other about what you went through, and day by day, it would get easier.

[deadsetobsessions]

Okay I got some sleep- here’s pt. 2 of my nightmare:

——

They spoke to each other as they moved, the surroundings that had egregiously attacked the group of heroes earlier easily parted way for his sister.

‘How has everything been, habibi?’

They talked to each other in a language known only to them. The rest of the Justice League team, the members of this mission: Batman, Flash, Superman, and Zatanna did not understand the signs, a feat worthy of his sister.

‘Alright. They are not bad. I like it here.’ He told her, eyes not quite wary but fear of disappointing her running through his small frame apparent all the same. ‘I would… like to stay.’

She ruffled his hair once more, wistfulness growing in her heart. How her little brother had grown. It seemed like yesterday she held him as a babe, swaddled in even more opulent green and gold silks than her own clothing. Now, he stood in front of her, daring to express his own thoughts with a domino over his face and strength of free will in his eyes. ‘That is good. I am glad you are happy.’

Batman lurched forward to stop her from touching Damian, only to freeze as his son accepted the touch without a hint of resistance. Even Dick couldn’t get that reaction, not without some grumbling and scowling. Who was this…?

The rest of team agreed to wait and watch. Part of it was strategy. Most of it was the wonder of a such Bat-like Robin being so open with someone.

‘Have you been here before?’ Damian, relaxed as she all but gave him her blessing to stay with father, peered at the local fauna as it bowed away from her sister. She shrugged, his katana sheathed on her back. She was at ease with it as he was with her blade, the training they did to get there unwavering despite the time they spent apart.

‘Sometimes. The tower we’re headed to, I often go there to relieve stress by training with the monsters there. They like to… attack everything that moves.’

Something told Damian it was more of a one sided massacre on his sister’s part.

‘Why would the magician hide there?’

‘It would serve adequately as a natural barrier, should he have a safe space put there ahead of time.’ His sister tilted her head, masked face still in the way he knew meant that she was thinking. Her hands moved. ‘Perhaps it was Grorgiantue that attacked you. He often goes there to experiment with alchemy and demonic remains. He often wears a maroon headband.’

“That’s him.” Damian confirmed.

“Are you going to clue us into what you’re saying, you two?” The Flash zoomed around the pair, skidding to a stop in front of them. Damian’s sister simply stepped around him, slicing apart a thorn bush that attacked when it got startled by the Flash’s speed. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as Robin scowled at him and the unknown ally spared him one quick, neutral glance of displeasure.

“No. Do not ask again, you eavesdropper.” Damian curtly replied, surly Robin mask back up.

“Robin.” Father reprimanded. Damian acknowledged it, but did not offer an apology. His sister remained silent and watching.

She’s relying on him to navigate these allies, Damian realized. His shoulders went back at the show of trust. He does not acquiesce to Father’s silent command. Had it been Richard… perhaps.

“Ouch, but still, if your… friend knows what’s up ahead, it’s be good to let us know.”

“We do need to take care of this as fast as possible, Robin. And we’re not the best team against magic.” Superman hovered. He would have gone and scouted ahead, but magical planes always had nasty surprises that he found extremely hard to escape.

“Speak for yourself,” Zatanna joked. Regardless, she looked askance at Damian’s sister.

Damian scowled and opened his mouth. His sister placed a hand on his shoulder and Damian sighed, readying himself to act as a translator. He knew she could sign in practically every standard sign language there was, damn it. She’s lucky he loved her enough to be a translator when she’s unwilling to socialize.

——

“Your sword,” Damian tried to hand her sword back. Her little brother, for a genius, was an idiot. She huffed, pushing the sword back.

‘Keep it. How will you cut through a magical tower without a magical sword?’ She signed to him, emphasizing her amusement.

“What about you?”

‘I must report back. I am... a bit late. I’ll see you later, habibi.’ She tapped her hand four times. A reminder that she cared about him. Before she disappeared through a swirling portal of mist grey and acrid blue, she saw him repeat the sign.

Behind her mask, she smiled.

——

“Who was that, Robin?”

Robin stared up at Batman. Damian Wayne stared up at his father.

“She... protected me.”

Not quite an answer. But it was an olive branch, to tell him who she was to Damian himself, but not who she truly was in relations to Damian.

“That’s it?”

“That is all you’re getting.” He replied, hands tightening around the hilt of his sister’s sword. Her magic hummed beneath his fingertips, the feeling of indescribable violence softening to a sense of protectiveness the moment the sword felt his presence. Damian respected Father. He might even love him. But Damian loved his sister first, and he would not betray her trust.

A new file is added to the database. Nightwing gets an update. When a familiar masked face pops up, Dick Grayson sped out of Bludhaven to interrogate his littlest brother.

And so the wheels turned.

——

“Tell me, granddaughter, what it is you truly think of me.”

Despite the conversational tone, she knew it was an order. The scars on her back burned, a reminder of another rebellion and the cost of failure.

There were many, many ways she could answer. All of them unpleasant. Yet, she must be pleasant. He must hear how she’d been broken, or else he’d keep trying to break her.

She tilted her head down, so he would not glimpse the hatred brewing in her eyes.

“I respect you, grandfather.” Because she did respect his ability to bend her at his will, for all that she hated him. It took a special kind of scum to be so cruel to one own blood. “I wish to obey your every order.” Because if she didn’t, pain would follow. But that wish was a temporary one, only in effect until she managed to kill him and come out on top.

Ra’s laughed, a warm and rich sound. Hollow, because he loved none but himself and so only reserved warmth for his own flattery. It sounded like the sharpening of a blade and it felt like balancing on a precipice. On one side, an eternity of torture. On the other, the pain of those she loved. Damian... and maybe, just a little, Talia herself.

"Do you love me, granddaughter?" He crooned, mocking and cruel, in a way one might ask a jilted lover. The reincarnation held her breath and answered. She will not lie. She can not lie, not to him. He had gouged the order into her tongue with magic and brutality. And so, she will not lie.

"No, grandfather. But I do not dislike you." The reincarnation said, soft as velvet. It was true, because what she felt for Ra's al Ghul was the cold, pervasive hatred. "I respect you."

"I see I've managed to beat some of that foolish sentimentality out of you," he said, taking a sip of his wine. Oh, how she wished she could slip poison in his cup. How she wished to make him choke on his own words, his own blood. But she could not. Not. Yet. "Alas, I can not undo the magic. I suspect you'll be serving at my feet for... quite a long time more."

She snapped her mouth closed, phantom rage hovering between her teeth. The world swirled around her, greens and purples, and the revolting touch of his hands on her.

No, she will bide her time.

She knelt, the motion familiar, on plush carpet that she could not appreciate. Luxurious cloth rustled in front of her.

And when her time comes, she will revel in Ra's al Ghul's agonizing death.

——

"Damian, you have to tell me who that is!"

Damian could be stubborn at times, he knew that. He worked with him on it. Damian was as much, if not more, Dick's Robin as he was Bruce's Robin. So why...?

"And for what reason do you wish to know her identity, Richard?"

Dick paused. He couldn't. He couldn't tell him. No one knew, except for that masked person. It happened so long ago- not long enough- and Dick could not wash the taint, could not wash the trauma from his brain, his heart. Whispers that sounded like Catalina surrounded him when he thought of that rainy night, telling him how disgusted his family would be, if they knew. Those things went away, now that he's pulled up the file on the batcomputer. The whispers fade a bit as he looked upon the masked face of the person who saved him. Just in time.

"For your safety!"

Damian crossed his arms, a look that spoke of an unbending unwillingness present in his eyes. Dick knew then that Damian would not tell him. "I will never be in danger if it's her on the other side of the blade."

"Come on, Damian, I won't tell B. Promise. Don't you trust me?"

Damian's face softened, and for a second, Dick had thought that he'd managed it. "I do... trust you." Damian struggled to say. "That is hardly ever in question, you imbecile. But to tell you would mean betrayal. And I will not betray her trust. Especially not for your personal satisfaction."

Dick wondered what this masked woman did for Damian to be unhesitatingly confident in her. He wondered if his own desperation meant something he had yet been able to put into words.

"For what it's worth, Dick, I think we should trust Damian and not pry."

Dick and Damian turned to Tim in surprise. Damian, because it was an unexpected vote of confidence.

"Woah, I do not want to hear that from you, Mr. Tiny Tot Stalker McGee."

"It's called preparation!" Tim said hotly back. Then, he subsided. "She, uh, saved me once. Back then, before I was... associated with Bruce."

"What?" Dick and Damian demanded.

——

Innocuous. The worst and best things always happened on innocuous days.

The beginning of her slavery began on a regular, if painful, sunny day.

The beginning of her freedom began on a regular, if painful, cloudy one.

She'd have to thank the little photographer later, she decided. His work all but forced her grandfather to rely on a handful of backup Lazarus pools only he, mother, and herself knew about. She stared at the green pools as her grandfather stripped to his waist to step in.

"Guard me," he commanded her as he stepped towards the pool. The sting of the command settled familiarly around her neck. “Once I am done, you will depart to force Damian or the detective back to Nanda Parbat. By any means necessary.”

It was his first time ordering her to hurt her brothers, past physical pain disguised as training.

His first mistake today.

That's the thing with her grandfather, she mused as she silently unsheathed Damian's sword. He was so complacent, that he could fathom her betrayal.

His second mistake. His last mistake.

Then again, it was her who lulled him into it, with the shows of loyalty and seemingly willing obedience outside of her magical collar's commands.

After all, he had commanded her to guard him. From outside threats, surely, but he hadn't commanded her to guard him from herself.

"You-!" He coughed as her- Damian's- blade slid in between his ribs and straight towards the other side. It missed his heart by a hair's breadth, Ra's having moved the moment he felt the blade. Truly, it was hard to beat a near-immortal's experience.

"Kill yourself!" He barked at her, clutching at his chest, trying to stumble towards the pool.

To kill herself, she had to remove the blade lodged in his chest. The magic urged her to follow his commands immediately with searing pain. But she's had over two decades to endure and adjust to it, to grit her teeth and learn how to move with the torture of being alive. So she follows it just to dislodge the blade. The reincarnation then, with the magic trying to break her, cripples Ra’s with two blows.

He collapsed, screaming bloody murder and slurs at her. Before he could say another command, she stabbed down and to the side, cutting deep enough to cut his voice box and spill his life-blood, his unceasingly irritating throat, over the craggy rocks surrounding the pool.

Then, she slit her throat with a cut that was a touch too shallow to kill her right away.

"I do not dislike you," she said, the pain easing as she spoke to him. The red she's taken from others now spilled on the front of her shirt. She stared at his enraged glare, vicious glee at making him choke on his own actions. "No, I hate you."

She bent down, twisting and breaking his arms with little effort. She patted his cheeks and raked a trail of pain down his face with her metal tipped gloves. Her blood dripped onto him, blinding his eyes.

Fitting, she'd thought. "No one will come for you, grandfather. But... I do have to ask," She looked down, voice tilting in the cruel way that he'd unintentionally taught her. "Don't you love me, grandfather?"

She walked backwards until she reached the edge of the pool. She knelt once more, a mockery of every time she's knelt for him.

The reincarnation watched his blood spill, the light leave his eyes, and the way his body stilled and the way his rage was stifled like he'd smothered her voice so long ago. She memorized it, because hate was an active emotion. But she was tired, and she wanted to rest. So she watched him die and felt nothing but peace.

Then, as she felt the magic take hold and tear her soul from her body, she tipped backwards and plunged her corpse in the glowing pits that awaited her.

——

It felt like drowning.

(did y’all know cats lay on your chest?? bro i straight up couldn’t breath bc of that)

Breathless. Corrosive. Freeing.

The Pit felt like freedom.

And she’d long forgotten what that felt like.

It tasted like shit water though, and suddenly she felt bad for everyone whoever swallowed some of the water here. She’s going to need her stomach pumped out after this-

Her thoughts were washed away in a haze of green tinted fury.

——

“Habibi.”

Nightwing slid in front of Robin with a well practiced flip. Batman emerged from the shadows, followed Spoiler and Red Robin.

“Talia. What do you want?” Batman growled. Talia ignored him, an uncharacteristic action that had the vigilantes putting their guards up.

“I… you know I would not ask this of you- I would not ask you to return,” Talia said softly.

“Then don’t.” Red Robin cut in sharply, bo staff at the ready. Talia ignored him too.

“But she needs you, habibi. I can not… I can not help her.”

“Who?” Spoiler asked, curious but ready to rumble.

“What happened?” Robin stepped around Nightwing, who made an aborted movement to try to pull Robin back behind him.

“Something terrible.” Talia al Ghul closed her eyes, a sliver of vulnerability and regret showing on her face. Robin straightened, fear thudding through his heart. What happened to ukhti, he wanted to ask. But he could not, not without betraying the promise of silence he’d made to her. “I… I have failed her greatly. And she was paying the price for it, this entire time.”

“Wait, is this about the masked woman?” Nightwing asked.

“Alright,” Robin- no, Damian- stepped forward once more. His decision was made. Had been made, the moment his mother allowed the rare instance of vulnerability to come across her face. “I’ll be going back, once…”

“Of course. She would not let me keep you, habibi. She knows you are happier here.”

“Then, let’s go.”

“Robin!” His family tried to stop him but Damian slipped between and out of their reach. “Do not!”

“I’ll be back,” he declared, like he was daring his mother to say otherwise. “Try not to raze Gotham into the ground with your incompetence.”

“I’ll kill Ra’s if something happens to him.” Red Robin pointed the bo staff at Talia as she and Damian turned to leave. He stopped an alarmed Batman when he tried to lunge for Robin.

“No need,” she threw back. Damian whipped his head up at that. “He’s already dead.”

And they disappeared into a whirling purple cloud of magic.

——

Snippets of reality return to her bit, by bit. Her mother had cautiously entered the pit with her guards- worried, no doubt, by their absence- and stilled upon seeing her father’s dead body.

She laughed, and dug her hands into the bodies of the assassins she’d trained until her nails dripped with blood and pieces of organs. She felled them, one by one, until only mother was left.

She’d attacked, like a rabid dog, until the green slipped and her mother came into focus.

“I killed him,” she’d croaked out. And that was what broke her; the smooth way air wrapped her around her throat where only ripping pain had existed. Her voice came out unhindered and recklessly so, without the tinge of agony carefully picking her sentences.

“I killed him,” she repeated, and set Ra’s al Ghul’s body on fire. “I killed him.”

Her mother stared at her, hands dropping carefully to her side. “Why?”

She smiled, teeth bared and bloody- oh, she must have ripped into an assassin with her teeth, how messy- and endlessly joyful. “Because he dared to chain me- because he threatened Damian.”

She broke, and she told her mother everything. No, not everything. Just, enough. At the end, when her back is bowed with pain and heart empty, her mother knelt before her and quietly, tremblingly, apologized.

“I am sorry, habibi. I…”

The reincarnation’s made a small, wounded noise and lost herself to the green.

——

Damian trembled with rage. With grief.

With regret.

He followed mother into the caverns, mind turning and whirling with everything he’d learned in the hour that had passed since he’d left Gotham. His sister’s inclination towards magic was incredibly helpful, but Damian wished that she had never had the cause to go delving into magic like she did.

He thought it was passion.

His mother had informed him of what Grandfather had done to his ukht all these years. She told him of what his sister had sacrificed so that he remained free.

“Every time she spoke to us, to tell us that she loves us… father had made sure she paid for every word with unceasing agony.” His mother had muttered, eyes more lost than he’d ever seen it. “The magic at her neck ensured that she obeyed unquestioningly or she paid the price.”

“She is paying the price right now,” he’d snapped at her.

“Yes.”

Damian had thought ukhti’s collection of magical tomes were a sign of her interests. He thought it was passion for a subject. He had even envied how she did not have to hide her hobby like he had to with his art.

Now, he knew it wasn’t passion. No, it was desperation; a scrambling for freedom, a wish for dignity, and the fear of the same restrictions being placed on his ukht’s loved ones- him and mother.

When he entered the cave, lit up by swirling, sickly green, he saw his ukht, drenched in blood and sclera, tearing apart another group of assassins. There were ashes and the smell of burnt flesh around them.

Her eyes- green, glazed, furious- turned towards them.

His mother tensed. His ukht lunged, pitted sword aimed at his eyeball.

But if there was anything Damian knew, it was that ukhti would never hurt him.

So he stayed still.

And she stopped. Blade a centimeter from his eyes, his sister stopped.

“Damian?”

How his heart broke when she spoke, confusion in her voice that sounded as if she had been screaming for decades and nobody had heard.

As Damian’s hand wrapped around her wrist and she dropped the sword, he morbidly thought that she might have been doing that. It’s not like they heard her, after all, not until she’d freed herself with broken fingers and steel spine.

——

Bruce paced around in the cave. With the disappearance of their youngest, the entire family gathered in the cave, the night after. Except for Barbara, who had been scouring the cameras and had prior engagements, and Cass, who was on a plane back from Hong Kong, the family watched as Bruce slowly lost his mind.

“Relax, B. Look, even Dickface and Timbers aren’t worried, and you know how they get.” Jason said, kicking his feet up on the table.

“Ahem.”

Jason quickly put his feet down.

“We know nothing about this woman! She could be a danger- she could-!”

“B, if it really is about the masked woman, I think we should give Damian some trust.” Dick spoke up.

“And what if they keep Damian captive?”

“Then we go get him, Bruce. Simple.” Duke said, yawning.

Whatever Bruce would have said next was cut off by the opening of the cave’s underground entrance, with an approving beep of a recognized and authorized entrance.

Damian stalked in, hands wrapping around the hilt of his sword like he was going to cut through the next fool who tested him. His face was in a frown.

“Damian. Are you alright?” Bruce rushed towards his youngest, only to be dodged.

“I need to break something. Then, we shall talk.”

Damian headed towards the training dummies at let out his fury. He let out his heart break. Splinters of wood and cloth and ripped padding laid testament to his grief.

Then, the younger brother of the true heir to the Demon’s Head turned around to speak to his chosen family.

——

Clarity.

Her brother, her fool, dumb brother who had just stood there as she tried to gouge his eyes out, had been exactly what she needed.

She avoided his concerned eyes as she muttered calculations under her breath.

“Ukhti, what are you doing?”

“Freedom, habibi. I am… creating my freedom.”

At his confused look, she made the signs for Pit Rage. He nodded and guarded her back.

Damian was so adorable. And now, now that there’s not collar around her neck, she could say that without awaiting internal agony!

Her mouth spoke the words she’d found all those years ago, magic flaring bright white and blue as the circle she laid down on crumbling rocks shuddered.

The magic soothed her frayed mind and seeped the poison from her mind.

——

“I have a sister.” He’d told them. He turned to his father, who had a blank look on his face. “An older sister. She is yours.”

“You fucked Talia, twice?!”

A scowl. “Keep your trap shut, Todd.”

Bruce felt his world shudder to a stop.

——

Her fingers, her left hand as her right was busy scratching absently at Damian’s head, found purchase on her back and neck. The skin wasn’t so soft anymore, time and scars making for a rougher feel.

There were worse things than death. Bitter, painful things.

Loosing her freedom. Loosing her voice.

But… there were better things than life. Sweet, gentle things.

Regaining her freedom. Getting revenge. Securing her family’s safety and freedom from the grotesque thing that wore the skin of a grandfather.

Her brother, tucked safely against her side, and a mother that finally understood.

“Come to Gotham with me,” Damian had suggested. She hummed, delighting in the way the sound came out with out the ringing pain.

But one does not erase two plus decades worth of trauma in one night.

Her hands came up.

‘Not yet. Mother will think-”

“It is a good idea.”

Her gaze darted up. Her mother’s eyes… softened. Odd. No… her gaze was heavy with guilt.

“It would… do you good to be away from here, my daughter.”

Well.

It’s not like she was opposed to that, at all, but still…

‘Two weeks. I’ll tie up loose ends… and I’ll go to Gotham in two weeks, if that’s alright with you, Damian?’

“Of course.” He leaned against her, hand clutching at her shirt in a motion that she wasn’t sure was meant to comfort himself or her. “May I tell father about you?”

Ah. She hadn’t thought of that. The pit really scattered her mind. She nodded.

——

“Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

“She asked me not to.”

“And since when did you do things people ask of you, demon brat?”

Damian scowled. It did not make his next sentence any less genuine.

“Since it was ukhti that asked.”

Tim spun around on his wheel chair. “Holy shit. So the masked person was your sister. No wonder you were so….”

Protective, they all finished the rest of the sentence silently. They all sat back to contemplate that Bruce had one more kid… and that Tim had met her before Damian was even born.

“So, why were you so upset, baby bird?” Dick asked, an odd feeling of both gratefulness and mild jealousy towards Damian’s sister- his savior, because holy shit- gathering underneath his heart.

“Apparently, grandfather put her under an enslavement spell all these years.”

“Damian… say that again. I- I must have heard you wrong.”

Damian closed his eyes, hating how unsteady and fearful his father sounded. He obliged, because he knew what it felt like.

“Grandfather put her under an enslavement spell and used her to further the League’s reach.”

Damian had wondered why he had encountered his sister so often while passing by grandfather’s chambers and why she always looked tired when she goes past those ornate doors.

Now he knew.

“Does that- does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yes. She,” Damian’s hands gripped harshly on his forearms. He breathed in and out slowly. “She was… assaulted. Most likely regularly. To broker more favorable agreements. She could not refuse. The magic demanded complete obedience or risk the punishment of unbearable pain.”

Dick looked away. They had a lot in common. She saved him… but on her end, she was not saved. His hands itched to punch Ra’s al Ghul in the face.

“Fuck.” Stephanie cursed. Her eyes met Duke’s and Jason’s.

Tim’s hands stopped moving, eyes staring blankly at Damian. He should have tried harder to kill Ra’s al Ghul.

Bruce got up, trembling, and stalked over to the training dummy. They sat in silence.

“What else?” Bruce rasped. He hung his head.

“She was ordered not to speak a word.”

“But she… spoke to me.” Tim said. Damian felt an irrational flare of jealousy.

“Then it most likely caused her unimaginable pain as punishment.” Damian snapped.

“What do we have to do to free her?” Stephanie demanded.

“Nothing, Brown. She freed herself.”

“How?” Duke leaned in, expression serious. “Did Ra’s al Ghul free her before he died or something?”

“I… am not too sure of the details, but it involved killing him… and jumping into the pit.”

Jason stood up with a clatter. “She was in the pit?!

“Yes. I think… she might have died. I’m not… sure.”

Bruce closed his eyes, working on his breathing like Dinah had showed him.

“Is that why Talia came? Because you could stop her pit madness?”

“Yes. I- there-” Damian struggled to get the words out, the ball of upset sitting on his chest made it hard to breathe. “Ukhti would never hurt me. Unless it’s training, but even then, I am sure she fought against her orders to wound me.”

Dick nodded. Yeah. He would have too, if he were in her shoes.

“I… can ukhti come here to recover?”

“Of course. When?” It was at times like this when he appreciated his family’s sentimentality and ridiculously large hearts. Unhesitatingly kind, even when they should have been furious at him for keeping ukhti’s secrets.

“Two weeks.”

“Then we shall make adequate- no, better than adequate preparations. Master Damian, what were her preferences for food?”

——

She should probably prepare a gift. Multiple.

“Ukht.”

She tilted her head to show Damian she was listening.

“I am sorry.”

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for.’

“But-”

She squeezed his shoulder and forced the words to come out. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have noticed.”

‘I did not want you to notice. If I hid things from you, do you think you could find them so easily?’

“No, I suppose not.”

She smiled at him and tapped her hand four times. He tapped his own four times in response.

——

The dream ended there, well, no, there was actually some more nonsense about a corgi, a room full of strings and slenderman or whatever but I didn’t include that part. There’ll probably be a part three bc I kinda wanna know what happens when she comes to Gotham to recover from trauma.

The oc, relatively well adjusted: *dies*

The oc, reincarnated and got fucked over (figuratively and non consensually literally): “yes, I should go to Gotham (aka trauma central) to recover from my trauma. Sounds legit.”

[jweekgoji]

Will you write for some Yandere!Orion Pax x reader? 👉👈

Yandere!Orion Pax/Reader [TFO/hcs]

tw: yandere themes, gn!cybertronian!reader, very brief mention of murder/death, mostly soft!yandere!Orion, overprotective, dependent behavior. word count: ~1000. a/n: i love making headcanons.

Orion is an obsessive, clingy and overprotective yandere that's for sure.

Orion is focused on you 24/7 in his mind, every time he's going out with someone else, he will constantly think of you. He's not having a fixation on you, like D-16 would with his darling, more like a thoughtful «I wonder if they will like it if I give it to them» or «if I COULD transform, I would be carrying them around everywhere!». His thoughts are mostly innocent, even though they often lead him to cause even more trouble. He will seek out a thousand risky stunts to do just to impress you, and he doesn't really care if Darkwing will beat him up because of it.

It is no secret that Orion is clingy. I already described it in other posts, and I will ramble about it again, but that silly guy does NOT know how to keep his servos to himself. Yandere Orion just can't comprehend the fact that you may not like it. You can find it weird, rude or just not tactile, and if he finds out, that's a pure torture. At first, he might find it funny and not take it seriously, you're probably in that «edgy, no nonsense and independent» phase some bots have, so he finds it his own personal goal to warm you up to him.

If you're somehow still adamant about it, I can see him trying to restrain himself from just squishing you against his frame the second he sees you in the same room with him. Cogless tiny Orion will be a sweetheart, so he always finds a way to satisfy his own needs without crossing the line. One day it's a simple touch on your shoulder, then he will try to hold your servo if lucky, and maaaaybe even give you a tiny peck on the cheek as soon as you look away from him. Touch is his love language!

Yandere cogged Orion/Optimus is a huge sweetheart but when he's tired and emotionally drained, the only thing he wants is to wrap his arms around you and hold you close to himself. Stay like that and don't say a word, it's not like you have a chance to escape.

Orion doesn't look like a person who thinks about his own safety. You will watch him running around Iacon from another trouble he got himself into, and he will even drag D-16 with him. Even though in his mind, it's for a better cause, If you're really close and dear to him, he also wants you to be the part of this adventure because he desires the better future for everyone and for both of you specifically. Together.

As Orion, still young, idealistic and naive bot, I never see him taking away your freedom. If you wish to tag along with him on the race, even though it's the most dangerous thing ever, especially with both of you not having any t-cogs...he will gladly accept it! As yandere Orion always cares about your well-being, but it's never the boring «I will lock you up just so you will always be safe» type of overprotectiveness. He neglects his own well-being to the point where he will gladly lose an arm or a leg if it means protecting you, and he doesn't care that he might die because of it.

You should constantly remind him to check Ratchet at least for once, but he will jokingly dismiss it since he's more concerned about that tiny dent on your frame. How did you get it? Do you need him helping you to polish? Orion already drags you to medic, meanwhile he is standing there holding broken metal pieces of his own body and like “that's just a scratch!”.

We all saw how Orion got protective over Elita once she was fired by Darkwing. His first thoughts are "yeah, I will NOT let that slide" even though he is two times smaller than their supervisor. Orion is a fighter for justice, for his darling he's a true gentleman, or...tries to be at least.

He's not that type of yandere who will murder someone if they hurt you, because his own beliefs are strong and unclouded. Yes, in the heat of battle, when it's either your life or the life of the enemy, he will never hesitate to end them, but even then he feels guilty about it (especially if we talk about young Orion/Optimus). If he actually ends up hurting someone, he will be devastated, and might as well take a long time to process it all.

How did it happen? How could he let this happen? He fights for freedom, for everyone, no matter if they're enemy or not, they all deserve at least a one chance for redemption. There will be a time when Orion blames himself for it, it corrupts his spark slowly, to the point where he thinks of himself as unworthy of you.

As much as Orion is an inspiring, he's self-conscious. The more not-so-happy events you go through together, the more he becomes dependent on you. You're a part of Orion's life, he can't shine brightly without his little satellite.

Yandere!Orion would constantly need you by his side. It doesn't matter where he is going, as long as he is with you. During his lowest moments, he wants you to reassure him and give him that comfort that will keep him at bay. He didn't mean to hurt anyone, but that worry and spark of rage blinded him, leaving his own servos dirty in the stranger's energon.

Young Orion is one of the softest yanderes to deal with. He still has to learn a lot about his own place in this world, his motivation, and his strength. Everything felt so easy when you were just two cogless bots, but the more time passes, the harder it is to deal with more complex feelings. Jealousy, disappointment, and regret. At the end of the day, you're the only person to keep him sane and not to collapse from the responsibilities on his shoulders. The problem is, it is too hard to get rid of that dependence.

[mymindisneverhere]

FAVORS (9)

Part Nine

warnings: 18+, MDNI!, SMUT, explicit language, lots of dialogue, (forgive me if I missed any)

heads up: 10.6k word count 

Masterlist

*1 Year Later* 

“30 minutes until we open the doors Ms. MacArthur.” The waitress announced, knocking on the door to get Khloé’s attention. 

“Thank you Jess!” Khloé nodded and returned her attention back down to her hands. 

Khloé stared at the framed document she held in her hands. A small smile on her face as she eyed the certificate that had her name signed in bold font. 

St. Claire Culinary Institute

Associate of Arts

“Khloé Rose MacArthur” 

She had done it. After all of those long nights spent studying, learning new techniques, preparing all sorts of dishes, she had finally received her Degree in Culinary Arts. A feeling of pride overcame her as she continued staring at her degree. 

She hung it up right above her office desk that sat in the very back of the restaurant. With just a few more minutes until her grand opening, she was completely content sighing in satisfaction as she took a seat in the large office chair. 

Khloé had dedicated one whole year to getting her life on track to where she wanted it to be. Enrolling into culinary school once again, her credits from the years before rolling over into a new semester helped her to get her degree as soon as she could. She joined her local yoga and pilates classes and spent time with the ones who understood her most, her father and her sister. Dedicating time and energy to the ones who poured into her the most had done her justice. This was just the reset she needed. 

The night she cried herself to sleep was an awakening for her. Everything didn’t necessarily fall into place right away but she knew she didn’t want the rest of her life to go the way it had been going. She had been clear on what she wanted from here on out. A life full of no regrets and genuine happiness.

Although she had made it clear to her sister that she was done dating, Kandance still did what she could to convince Khloé to get back into dating again. Kandace respected Khloés commitment to achieving her goals but she knew how badly Khloé desired to be loved by the “perfect” man. 

“I’m not interested in dating right now Kandace.” 

“I’m focused on myself right now, I don’t have time for men.” 

This was her response each time Kandace would bug her about her dating life. No matter how hard Kandace tried, Khloé didn’t budge. She was completely caught up in herself. Everyday she woke up, she made sure to do something that would get her closer to where she wanted to be and after twelve months of hard work and some financial help from her father she was preparing to open up her first place. 

Khloé spent everyday searching for the right chefs, the perfect waiters and waitresses and the perfect hostess to help run her restaurant. After months of research she had finally crafted the perfect crew and she was ready to launch the grand opening of her place, “The Velvet Rose”. 

“Everything is set and ready to go Ms. MacArthur.” Olivia stated, entering Khloés office.

Olivia had been the last person on her list to receive an apology that was well overdue. She had to admit to her that although she didn’t want to hear any of what Olivia had said to her when she came to her apartment just a year ago, she needed that wake up call. They sat and talked about the last few years they spent with each other and how they wanted the years to come to be.  

Olivia listed her demands to Khloé stating that she no longer wanted to be treated as if she was beneath her. Olivia wanted to feel equal to Khloé not because of Khloés status but because of the relationship that they had with each other. She had been there for all of Khloés terrible breakups, bad business moves and constant arguments with her family. Olivia felt she deserved to be treated with respect and Khloé agreed without fuss. After everything was said and done, Khloé asked Olivia to be her restaurant manager and Olivia gladly accepted.

“Liv I told you, you don’t have to keep calling me that.” Khloé said. “You’re the manager, we’re a team.” 

“I know, but it bothers you so I’ll keep doing it.” Olivia joked, sticking her tongue out before leaving the office.

Khloé rolled her eyes and stood from her seat. Turning to step in front of the full body mirror she kept against the office door, stared at her reflection in the mirror. The gold dress she wore was specifically picked by her to help go with the theme of her restaurant. Her hair was pressed straight and tucked behind her ears, giving her a simple yet elegant look. The blonde highlights her stylist suggested meshed well with her skin tone and her attire for the night. 

She smiled at her reflection and took a deep breath before leaving her office and entered the dining area of the restaurant. The place was decorated with small tables near the entrance for the parties of two, large booths along the center wall for parties of four to six and a large table at the very back for even larger parties. Warm shades of gold and bright white filled the room as she walked through, inspecting each corner of the restaurant. The walls were covered in golden dim lights that gave the space a romantic and cozy feel. 

Each table had a small candle in the center along with a few white roses in a vase, to further embrace the romantic ambience Khloé wanted to spread throughout the entire eatery. Large bouquets of white roses sat right at the entrance with a smaller version decorating the hostess podium. The place had Khloés luxurious taste written all over, topping it off with a live jazz band dressed in all white attire. 

“Attention everyone!” Khloé announced, causing the crew to stop what they were doing and look her way.

The small group of waiters and waitresses stood in front of her dressed in white dress shirts, black ties and dress pants with small aprons around their waists. Two hostesses dressed in white dresses and pumps to match stood side by side awaiting her announcement. 

The kitchen chefs, along with the head chef, made their way from the kitchen and stood together, dressed in their uniforms slightly similarly to the waiters with their names embroidered on their shirts. 

Khloé eyed her team proudly as they stood awaiting further instruction. Everyone looked as if they belonged, like they were a team. The uniforms and the color coordinated outfits tied the whole place together and Khloé couldn’t be more excited to let the guests experience the food and the atmosphere. 

“There will be a full house tonight so I expect everyone to get all of their nerves out now because once those doors open, it’s showtime.” Khloé spoke, her voice full of authority but laced with just a hint of grace. “I want to thank you guys for being here with me. You could’ve gone anywhere else to share your talents but you chose to be here and for that I am forever grateful.” 

The team nodded as they smiled to each other, truly excited for their opening night. 

“Now, let’s have a great first night!” With that, everyone dispersed, taking their places and preparing for the crowd. 

Khloé walked to the front doors with Olivia and took in her surroundings, feeling a large sense of gratitude as she admired the first thing she could actually call hers. 

“They’re lining up outside Ms. MacArthur.” Olivia announced, staring out of the window at the line of people that traveled a mile down the sidewalk. 

“Let them in.” Khloé stated proudly. 

Olivia pushed the large doors open and within minutes people were filling the seats, looking over the menu for the night and ordering drinks. The room was filled with light conversation, greetings and soft jazz setting the tone for a grown and sexy feel. 

The smooth sounds of a saxophone rang out into the room from up front as guests entered. The dress code was elegant and formal. There weren’t necessarily restrictions on what could and could not be worn however the ambience set the perfect tone for the attire. 

Khloé had invited the most important people she knew to her big night. Her sister, her father, her aunts and uncles, popular influencers in the city, well known food critics and the most successful business owners in the town. 

Getting the word out about her place was her number one goal but sharing her night with the ones she cared for most was right after. She slowly walked around the place, greeting each guest and thanking them for coming. She made her way to one of the tables suited for large parties where her family had taken their seats, laughing and conversing with one another. 

“Princess!” Mr. MacArthur stood, placing a soft kiss on Khloé’s cheek and pulling her into a warm hug. “I am beyond proud of you, this place looks great.”

“Thank you daddy.” Khloé responded with a smile. 

She spoke to the rest of her family, sharing laughs and small conversation until her eyes landed on an unfamiliar woman. Instantly spotting the resemblance, her breath caught in her throat as she eyed her. 

“Khloé, this is my mother Katherine, mom this is my sister Khloé.” Kandace said. 

“Oh my God.” Khloé gawked at the sight of the woman, practically sharing the same face as Kandace. Her beautiful bronze skin, her jet black hair and big beautiful smile just like her sister. “It is so nice to meet you.” 

Katherine stood and hugged Khloé. “You as well Khloé, Kandace has told me so much about you. Congratulations honey!” 

“Thank you.” Khloé said, placing a hand over her heart.

Khloé sat with her family expressing her gratitude and appreciation before getting up and visiting the guests once again, being sure to get their reviews on the food, the drinks and the service. 

The night was going so smoothly. The room was filled with laughter, good music and amazing food. Olivia had suggested that Khloé should only serve a limited amount of items on the menu just to be sure that the wait wouldn’t be too long for the guests. Together they picked the special dishes that would give the guests some insight on what to expect from the restaurant's full menu once they had gone completely public. 

From the looks of how things were flowing so effortlessly, that was the best idea for the night. 

“Excuse me, if I could have everyone’s attention please.” Olivia’s voice echoed throughout the speakers as she held the microphone to her lips. “I’d like to bring the owner, Ms. Khloé MacArthur, up to the stage to say a few words.” 

Everyone applauded as Khloé made her way to the front of the restaurant. The gold dress she wore shined under the soft lighting, accompanied by the beautiful honey blonde shade in her hair, she looked as if she was glowing. She carefully made her way up on the stage and grabbed the microphone from Olivia, clearing her throat before speaking. 

“Good evening everyone and thank you all for coming to the grand opening of The Velvet Rose.” Applause filled the room as she smiled, slightly blushing from the attention she was getting. 

“This has truly been a journey for me. If I'm honest this was probably the scariest thing that I’ve ever done in my life but it is the most gratifying. To see my vision, my dream come true in real time and to be able to share it with the most amazing people that I know is truly an honor for me. I hope you all enjoy the food, enjoy the drinks and the lovely music and again thank you so much for coming.” 

With that Khloé returned the microphone to its stand and carefully walked down from the stage as the room erupted in applause once more. Before she could even make it to the floor Olivia had stopped her in her tracks. 

“There’s a guest complaining about the valet parking outside, I think you may want to handle this.” Olivia spoke quickly, a bit of worry in her tone. 

Khloé nodded and made her way to the front doors, pushing through them. Her head immediately snapped to the right where the parking lot was but the valet sat unbothered, not busy with anyone or any cars. 

“I was hoping I could get a tour.“ The sound of his voice caused her heart to skip a beat. “That is if you have room for me on the guest list.” 

She didn’t bother to turn around, she couldn’t turn around. Her feet were glued in place as she remembered the comfort that the voice had brought her so long ago. Her breathing began to increase as she mustered up the strength to turn and face him. 

Finally swallowing the lump in her throat, she lifted her dress a bit and slowly turned around. They stood just a few feet away from each other but the impact of their presence was heavy for the both of them. 

Terry stood there with a large bouquet of white roses in his hand. He was dressed in an all black tuxedo, a small chain hanging from his neck and a watch to match. His hair was freshly cut as was his goatee. He stood eyeing her with his bedroom eyes, noticing the expression in her face soften as she stared at him. 

He walked to her, keeping his gaze on hers as he got closer to her. Each step he took, she thought her heart would beat out of her chest. Her eyes trailed down his body to his feet and back up to his face. He was still so damn fine, finer than he was when she left him in Summers' living room just a year prior. 

“Hi.” Terry greeted, staring down at her. 

“Hi.” Khloé stared up at him, instantly gaining all of the feeling she had neglected in the last year right in between her legs. 

They sat in silence for a while before either one of them spoke again. Khloé was feeling too many things at once. She was already on a high from the opening of her restaurant and now standing in front of the only man she truly ever loved had her feeling like she was floating on a cloud. 

“These are for you.” Terry smiled, handing her the roses. 

“Thank you.” She smiled nervously, grabbing them before staring back up at him. “What are you doing here?” She instantly regretted asking that question, causing her to stumble over her words. She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t happy to see him but she was still very curious as to why he was there. 

“I mean not like, in a bad way, like I don’t want you to be here, but-“ She took a deep breath, calming her nerves before finishing.” I just didn’t expect to see you tonight or…” 

“Ever?” Terry asked, finishing her sentence for her. 

Khloé looked down at her feet contemplating what she would say next. The past twelve months were solely for her, not a man, not a friend, not her family, not even her mother but her. Although she would constantly tell her sister she wasn’t thinking about a man or dating whatsoever, she would secretly pray that one day she would be with him again. 

However Khloé refused to force their connection so she avoided going to the warehouse, she never visited that part of town for anything and she decided not to visit Summer again because there was no need to. 

Two months turned into four and then four turned into eight and she still had yet to cross paths with him so she accepted that maybe he wasn’t the man for her after all. She wanted to believe in fate similar to fairytale stories she read as a child. Believing that no matter where in the world you went or what conflict had taken place between man and woman, if they were meant to be together fate would magically merge their paths. 

Khloé hoped she would run into him at a grocery store or the bank, somewhere they didn’t plan on seeing each other but somehow ended up at the same place, at the same time. When time passed and she had yet to run into her dream guy again, her belief in the fairytale began to fade. So becoming focused on herself became even easier because she had no more energy left to manifest such a cliché interaction. 

But here he was standing in front of her on the biggest night of her life. Not because she paid him to be there or because “fate” brought them together but because he simply chose to be there. 

“I bumped into your sister as I was leaving the warehouse at the Garland location.” Terry started. “She told me about this grand opening being hosted by you and I immediately thought ‘Wow, she did it.’” 

Khloé blushed a bit at that last part.

“So I wanted to come and congratulate you in person.”  

“Thank you Terry.” Khloé smiled. 

“You’re welcome Ms. MacArthur.” 

She blushed once more at the sound of that name on his lips. When Olivia said it, it reminded her of the years she treated Olivia like she was less than. When Terry said it, it reminded her of comfort and certainty, something she didn’t realize she had missed until now. 

The two sat in an awkward silence both unsure of what to say next. Khloé felt a bit silly for being so nervous in front of a man that had seen her in every way imaginable. The longer she sat the more she wondered what life had been like for him in the last year. She could clearly see a difference in him. His look was different, his normal stern expression had slightly faded and he was dressed in a tuxedo. It was clear to her that he had gone through some sort of transformation as well. 

“Wait, why were you at the Garland location? What happened to Greenville?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. 

“I just accepted a new role there.” Terry began. “I started about three months ago.” 

Khloé’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? What position?” 

“Senior Operations Manager.” 

“Oh my God, that’s so good! I’m so happy for you!” She exclaimed, smiling from ear to ear. Her excitement caused him to chuckle a bit. “But that's a far drive from where you live, you commute an hour and a half everyday?”

“I moved about fifteen minutes away from the job not too long after I took the role.” 

“Oh wow.” Khloé said. She stared up at him in astonishment. Here she was getting her life together, evolving in every way she could and so was he. “So much has happened since we last saw each other.” 

“I don’t know if it’s too late for me to say this but-“ Terry started, placing a hand to the back of his head to calm his nerves. “I really missed you Khloé.” 

Khloé’s breath caught in her throat at the admission. “I missed you too.” 

“The day you left Summers place, it was hard for me to keep busy. I wanted to talk to you everyday but I didn’t want to interrupt your process or interfere with the time you needed so I decided to be patient.” He said, placing his hands in his pockets. “To be honest I was scared someone else had come into your life and it was too late for us to try again.”

“I was just trying to become the woman that I needed to be for myself. I thought that if we were supposed to be together, that somehow fate would bring us together and we would.” Khloé spoke softly. “I wanted to see you too but I didn’t know if I would be forcing it or not so I just decided against it.”

Terry nodded, a small moment of silence falling between the two of them again. He looked over to stare at the bright sign above Khloé’s restaurant, a way to avoid the awkwardness that fell between them. Khloé stared down at the ground wondering if she had said the wrong thing. It wasn’t like she had given up on them but at the same time she kind of did. 

“Goodnight Khloé, the food was bomb girl! I’m gonna tag you on Instagram!” A woman announced as she exited the restaurant, a to-go container in hand. 

Guests were beginning to leave one by one, complementing Khloé and congratulating her as they made their way to the valet. 

“Thank you guys so much, come back and see us!” She said, waving as the last few guests left, leaving only her family in the restaurant. 

She turned her attention back to Terry and saw the discomfort in his face. The man who was once so damn good at hiding his feelings was doing a terrible job at this moment. 

“If you have some time, I’d love to show you the place.” Khloé suggested. “I can have my chef cook something for you, I wanna know what you think of the food.”

Terry looked down at her and smiled before walking over to the large doors and pulling it open for Khloé to enter. “After you.” 

They made their way into the restaurant and she led him to the back of the seating area, a small booth sat clean and empty and they took a seat on each side. Khloé looked up at Terry as he maneuvered into the booth. She watched him as he took in his surroundings.  

“This is really nice Khloé.” Terry looked around the place, admiring the interior. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Thank you, it took a while but we’re here.” Khloé said, placing the large bouquet of roses in the seat right next to her. 

“I’m really proud of you Khloé.” He said, his eyes finally landing on hers. 

“Thank you.” 

“Terrance.” Mr. MacArthur called out, walking over to the booth they occupied. “It’s good to see you again son.” 

“Mr. MacArthur, good to see you as well sir.” Terry stood, shaking the older man’s hand. 

Khloé looked on in confusion as Terry and her father fell into casual conversation, catching up for lost time. The moment it was brought to her fathers attention that Terry was a worker, her dad called her later that evening to give her some words about the entire ordeal. Ones that weren’t that nice. So to see him conversing with Terry as if he was no longer bothered by it threw her for a loop. 

“Congratulations on the senior position.” Mr. MacArthur said. 

“Thank you sir, I appreciate it.” Terry grinned humbly. 

“Keep it up and you’ll be coming for my spot next.” The two men laughed as Khloé continued to watch in confusion. 

“We’re gonna head out princess, you enjoy your first night in your place.” Her father said bending down to kiss her forehead. “I’m proud of you. Call me when you make it home.”

The rest of her family stopped by the booth to greet Terry and say their goodbyes before exiting, leaving Terry and Khloé alone. 

“Here you are sir, The Rosewood Rack comes with a rosemary crusted rack of lamb, a side of truffle mashed potatoes and garlic sautéed broccolini.” The waitress by the name of Jessica announced, placing the warm plates in front of Terry as she read off the chef's special. “And a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon for you as well sir, enjoy.” 

“Thank you.” Terry looked on with a slightly shocked expression on his face. “This entree describes you to a T.” 

Khloé laughed as he dug into his food, taking small bites of each dish before giving her a review. 

“This is delicious, honestly.” He said, not letting up from any of the food that sat in front of him. “I’m not even a lamb type of guy but this is good.” 

“I’m so glad you like it.” She started, “I know how much you love a hearty meal so I wanted to make sure they prepared something that would satisfy you just right.” 

Terry looked up at her as she said those last few words. The dim lighting, the candles, and the soft music that continued to play set the perfect mood for this moment after not seeing each other for a year. They jumped into long conversation, both informing the other about how life had been for the last twelve months. 

Khloé began telling him about the aftermath that followed the dinner where the family secret was revealed. She went on to tell him about how her mother refused to take any accountability for what she had done to Katherine and that eventually she moved out of the family house. 

Angela was convinced that everything she did was supposed to be done and there was no wrong in how she went about it. She was waiting for Khloé and John to come around begging for her forgiveness. However John was no longer interested in keeping up a facade for the sake of reputation. He had earned his living rightfully and there was nothing that would take away the love he had for his daughters or his business. 

Khloé told Terry all about the time she spent in therapy, the long hours she spent studying and how much time went into securing her restaurant. She admitted to him that even during the times she was focusing on herself, her mind would always wander off to thoughts and memories of the two of them together. She wanted him to know that although she was truly working on herself, she still craved him in every way imaginable. 

“Why not just come by the job?” Terry asked, genuine confusion written in his expression. 

“I just kept feeling like I was forcing you to be with me and I didn’t want to do that. So I wanted to avoid you at all costs.” She admitted. “I had this weird belief that if we were meant to be then we’d cross each other's paths in a more authentic way.” 

Terry nodded slowly, somewhat understanding her but not totally. While Khloé still believed in her fairytales, Terry was very much grounded in reality. Sometimes too grounded in reality, not allowing himself enough space to dream or remain optimistic about the possible relationship he could have with Khloé. He didn’t believe in living life on what ifs, he needed total security and if he didn’t have it then he would have to move on. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind always found its way back on Khloé. 

Terry went on to tell her how moving up in the company was the best thing that had happened to him. The pay raise, the benefits and the business trips that came with the position, had him overwhelmed with gratitude. He let her know that at times he would become too busy, trying yet again to get rid of any memory he had of her. A simple attempt to protect himself from suffering a loss and not wanting to accept that she had completely moved on.

“But I’m not with anyone Terry, I did this for myself.” Khloé spoke honestly. 

“I know but I guess I just thought that you’d either meet someone or you’d never want to be with anyone else ever again.” Terry said. 

“Why did you think I wouldn’t want to be with anyone ever again?” 

“Because the look on your face when you walked out on me, you didn’t look at me the same way you did before.” He stated. “It was like I could see a wall being built right at that moment. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get past it.” 

Khloé stared at him and he stared back at her. 

“You’ll always get past it.” She stated bluntly. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but everyone’s got a soft spot for someone. You happen to be my someone, just like I am for you.” 

Terry’s eyebrows bent at the statement. He was determined to deny what she was saying because he didn’t think it was true whatsoever. Did he care for her deeply? Absolutely. But Terry could never allow himself to be soft for anyone. 

“The way you tore into me back at my condo, the way you looked at me when I tried to touch you to prevent you from leaving, if you weren't soft for me you wouldn’t be here right now. You’d be done with me.” Khloé started, “But you’re not because you can’t be.” 

Terry stared at her as she continued talking. 

“For a while I thought Summer was your soft spot but I realized she’s not. She is a safe space for you but she’s not the person who gets to push your buttons and still be loved by you.” She watched as his expression softened a bit. “I’m not the only one who tries to play tough Mr. Richmond.” 

It had been a minute since he had heard her say his name like that. The sound of his name leaving her lips made him feel some things he hadn’t felt in a while. Noticing the slight change in his breathing, Khloé smirked as she grabbed his wine glass and took a sip. She had done the work to heal but the seductress in her could never leave, she just did a better job at taming it. Truth is, she would always enjoy seeing the effect she had on men in real time. 

“You don’t drink anyway, you don’t need this.” Khloé said, a bit of her bossy attitude showcasing itself in a quick moment. 

He felt his dick jump as he continued staring at her, watching the glass leave her lips as she tilted her head slightly. The instant memories of those same lips damn near bringing him to his knees had his eyes stuck on them. He didn’t want to be the guy who just popped back into her life hoping to get some but he couldn’t deny the way she was making him feel. It felt like meeting her all over again, getting lost in her lips, forgetting they were in the middle of a conversation. 

“Cat got your tongue Mr. Richmond?” She asked, smirking at him. 

His eyes darted back up to hers before responding. “No ma’am.” He said, watching her shift in her seat. Going from poised to bothered in a split second. She wasn’t the only one picking up on the small cues that were happening beyond their will. 

“You missed me that much?” He smirked. 

Khloé placed the wine glass on the table and leaned forward, placing her forearms over one another as she locked her eyes onto his. 

“You wanna stay here all night or do you wanna find out just how much?” Khloé asked, her gaze shifting between his eyes and his lips. 

The sounds of heavy breathing and light moans filled the room as they kissed each other, tripping over their feet, making up for all the time they lost. They had raced to Terry’s apartment and wasted no time falling into their usual rhythm once they shut the door. Terry swiftly pulled off his suit jacket and returned back to Khloé’s lips, backing her further into the apartment. 

Khloé wrapped her arms around his neck, tilting her head to get a better feel of his tongue on hers. Moaning into his mouth she stepped back as they continued tussling with each other's lips. 

“Take this off.” Terry murmured in between kisses, yanking at Khloé’s dress. 

“Unzip it.” She said, finally breaking their kiss and turning her back to him. 

He quickly pulled the zipper down the back of her dress and watched it fall to the ground. Stepping out of it, she turned to him, dressed in only her underwear. Khloé wasn’t a shy woman but she was feeling herself shrink under his gaze once her body was exposed. However Terry’s usual stoic stare had shifted into desire as he studied her body, the one he hadn’t touched in so long. 

She had gained a little weight but for Terry it had been in all the right places. Her hips were a bit wider and her thighs were thicker, the way her panties sat right at the base of her hips brought out every curve in her body. He was feening for her in the worst way and she didn’t even know how bad. 

“Fuck I missed you.” He spat, crossing the room quickly. In one swift motion, he picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. 

She pressed her lips against his, kissing and sucking on his tongue as he walked her into his bedroom. The view of the busy freeway provided a hint of light in the room as he laid her on the bed. 

Reaching down to lift the long sleeve turtle neck he wore above his head, Khloé sat up and watched him as he came out of the sweater. Her eyes roamed over his torso, the sight of him alone had her growing wetter by the second. 

‘Did he get bigger?’ She thought to herself, noticing the increase of muscle in his arms and strong definition in his chest. 

He leaned down to kiss her once more, lightly pushing her onto her back. He placed kisses along her neck, the sounds of her moaning in his ear causing him to moan as well. Terry was moving fast, his hunger for her taking over as he roughly sucked on her neck. 

“Terry wait.” She said as she let out a breath, placing her hands on his chest signaling for him to sit up. 

“What’s wrong?” He looked down at her frowning, trying hard to read her expression.

“Nothing, it’s just,” She started, eyes darting around the room before landing on his. “I’m a bit nervous.” 

Terry chuckled lightly, finding it hard to believe that the woman who enjoyed tying him up and draining him dry had become so nervous all of sudden. “I’ve already seen every part of you, what’s making you so nervous now?”

She took a deep breath and paused for a bit before finally saying the words, “I love you.” 

The admission caught Terry off guard. He could sense her anxiousness as she stared up at him. The Khloé he was used to was fearless, there wasn’t anything that came out of her mouth with hesitation. The Khloe he knew didn’t stumble over her words or have a hard time finding them either. But this new Khloé was very different. Still her usual bossy self but a bit more cautious with her words and her tone of voice. 

He could tell she was desperately waiting for his response as her eyes pieced into his. Her eyebrows bent slightly as she began to grow impatient. 

“I love you too.” He finally responded, a heavy weight lifting off of his shoulders after holding onto that truth for so long. 

Khloé’s eyes softened, her features relaxing and returning back to normal as she let out the breath she had been holding. She continued staring up at him without saying a word. There was a genuineness behind the words that left his lips. It didn’t feel like he was saying it just to lessen her worry or try to continue on with having sex with her. She could sense his relief as he spoke those same words back to her. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked softly. 

“No!” She answered a bit too quickly. “I don’t want you to just fuck me though. I guess I want…” She trailed off. 

“Me to make love to you.” He finished. 

She nodded her head. Placing a soft kiss on her lips, he slowly lifted off of the bed and held his hand out for her to take. She grabbed it and stood in front him. Turning her around, she faced the large window and closed her eyes, preparing to actually be handled with care for the first time. 

Terry moved her hair to the side away from her neck and placed soft kisses along her shoulder. Each kiss was placed with purpose and intention. Her breath hitched as she felt his lips on her, the slow movement making her grow anxious with every touch. He made his way up to her neck and noticed her breathing stop. He knew she was nervous but he wanted to reassure her that there was no reason to be. 

“Relax.” He suggested, his voice deep yet soft in her ear. “I got you.” 

Letting out the breath she had been holding in, she slowly dropped her shoulders. She unclenched her jaw and closed her eyes, letting her head fall slowly against his chest. The feeling of his lips were slowly chipping at her nerves, eventually clearing them altogether. 

He ran his hands across her stomach, pulling her deeper into him. The warmth of her body against his chest, the way she ran her fingers against his arms, felt serene for him. Still placing kisses against her shoulder, he dropped his hand into the crotch of her panties and dipped his finger in between her folds. She was so wet for him, she had been since they agreed to leave the restaurant and head to his place. 

He ran his free hand up her torso and played with her nipple, rolling it in between his thumb and index finger. Khloés body pressed against his even more as she squirmed in his arms. He moaned in her ear, feeling her hips rub against his bulge. 

“Terry…” She moaned above a whisper, feeling him play with her sensitive clit and nipples caused her to close her eyes.

“You want me to stop?” He asked, the question was obviously rhetorical but he loved to hear the eagerness in her voice. 

“No.” She breathed out. 

Terry continued kissing along his shoulders up her neck and stopped at her jaw. Her head moved effortlessly as he trailed up her neck, so caught up in the pleasure, she was almost melting into his arms. 

He didn’t want her to cum just yet but he made sure to build her up just enough so that when he finally entered her, she’d be dripping like a faucet. 

“Tell me how you want it.” He remembered how much she loved to be in charge, one of the many things he adored most about her. Increasing his speed purposely so she’d struggle as she answered the question.

“Ummm.” She moaned, eyes still rolling into her head as he pinched her nipples tightly, still working her clit over. 

“Tell me baby.” 

“S-stomach.” 

He chuckled lightly at her stutter, feeling himself while he had her somewhat at his mercy. Finally pulling his fingers from her lower set, he pushed them into her mouth and watched as she sucked them, moaning from the taste of herself. 

“You ready?”

Khloé nodded her head, still resting her weight against him. Turning them both so that they were facing the bed, he pushed her panties down to her ankles. 

“Lay down.” He instructed. 

She licked her lips and crawled onto the bed, laying flat on her stomach and resting on her elbows. He removed the thin fabric from around her ankles and tossed them before undoing his pants. Getting completely undressed, he crawled onto the bed, stopping to place kisses on the back of her thighs, up her ass and continued up her back. She bit her lip as she felt him against her skin, each kiss causing a soft moan to escape her lips. 

Finally reaching the side of her face, he placed kisses along her jaw as he ran his dick against her wet entrance. 

“Can you go slow please?” She asked softly, “It’s been a while for me.” She turned her head to meet his eyes, their faces just a few inches from each other. 

“Yes ma’am.” He responded. 

He ran his dick through her folds once more before pausing at her entrance. His eyes were glued to hers, not wanting to miss any of the expressions on her face no matter how big or small. Carefully pushing himself just a few inches into her, he watched as her jaw dropped, the sounds or her gasping loudly made him clench his jaw. He loved the faces she made whenever they had sex, they were so damn beautiful.

“Can I move?” He asked. 

“Yes!” She moaned, a bit more aggressive than she intended. 

Terry pushed himself all the way into her, pressing his hips flat against her ass. Both of his hands rested next to her elbows as he held himself up. He dropped his head onto hers taking in how tight she was, afraid he wouldn’t last as long as he planned to. She cooed as she felt all of him at once, inhaling deeply as he held himself in place. 

Lowering himself onto his elbows, he wrapped his arms around hers and intertwined their fingers. He rolled his hips slowly, giving her long strokes, as he dropped his chin into the crook of her neck. 

Khloé’s eyes rolled as her brows lifted, the side of her face was pressed against his, feeling his lips brush against her jaw. She was in total bliss feeling him for the first time in a long time. The way he thrusted in and out of her sent small shocks throughout her body every time he rubbed up against her spot. She moaned loudly, tightening the grip she had on his hands. He maintained his slow and steady strokes, kissing her cheek as he tried to keep himself from cumming too soon. 

“I missed you so much.” She cried, dragging her words as her jaw continued to fall open. 

“I missed you too baby.” He replied.

She continued to repeat herself over again, unable to mutter any new words due to the feeling of ecstasy invading her body. Her voice was doing a number on him, causing him to thrust into her even harder, increasing the pressure with each stroke. The harder he dug into her, the more vocal she became and this wasn’t helping him one bit. Cursing to himself, he pulled out of her, quickly stopping himself before he came too early. 

“Fuck.” He spat. 

Grabbing her hips, he flipped her on her back and smashed his lips into hers. She ran her hands down his face as they fell back into their usual rhythm with their tongues. Without warning, Terry pushed into her, every inch filling her suddenly until he couldn’t push any further. She could feel the pressure deep within the pit of her stomach, he was so big. 

Khloé moaned into his mouth, eventually giving up on the kiss because multitasking wouldn’t be easy for her to do at the moment. Pulling out of her with only his tip inside, he returned to giving her long strokes, this time a bit faster than before. 

He lifted one of her legs onto his shoulders and left the other on the bed. His eyes were locked onto hers as he dug into her, watching as they began to roll into her head. He took her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it gently before he pulled back. 

“Look at me.”

She opened her eyes and focused them back on his. He stared down at her intently, studying her eyes with every stroke he gave her. Her eyebrows curled inward from the feeling brewing in the lower part of her stomach. The look in his eyes translated the emotion she had been dying to see in them since she first met him. His usual stoic expression had completely vanished.

Terry looked at her with pure adoration and genuine love expressed in his hazel eyes. Every bit of his movement had intention, he wanted to be sure that she could feel his love for her as he pleased her for the first time in over a year.

The way he rocked his hips into hers caused her to push up the bed slightly. He grabbed onto her hips and held her in place, still digging deep into her. She gasped, letting her eyelids fall low, desperately waiting for the orgasm to take over her body. 

“Don’t close ‘em, look at me.” He demanded softly, his voice just above a whisper. 

“I-“ Khloé started, opening her eyes once again. Her eyebrows lifted a bit as they stared at each other. 

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” He asked, still thrusting into her. He was aware of the effect his dick was having on her, he just wanted to hear her say it. 

“It feels so good.” She whined. 

Khloé had always enjoyed sex, particularly being fucked but she had yet to experience sex that included passion and intimacy. She was feeling so many things at once. Not only the feeling in between her legs that traveled to the pit of her belly but also the affection behind it. There was no competition to see who would make who fold first. The only goal was to translate the feelings he had for her through this moment they had both been secretly waiting for. 

“You love me?” Terry asked, placing a soft kiss at the corner of her lips. 

“Yes!” 

“I can’t handle you leaving me again.” He said honestly.  

“I won’t leave!” She cried. 

“Tell me you’re stayin’!” He could feel her getting wetter the more he spoke to her. It was only a matter of time before she would be cumming all over him and that was exactly what he wanted. 

“I’ll stay!” She moaned loudly. 

He kept placing kisses against her cheeks before dropping his head to the side of her face, pressing his lips against her ear. “You promise?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” She yelled, digging her manicured fingernails into his back. She clawed at him, attempting to pull him in closer as she came, her nails leaving small marks against his skin. “I’m cummin’!”

She held onto each him tightly, moaning and cursing loudly. Khloé’s legs shook around his waist while he continued stroking, making sure to get all of her. The sloshy sounds of her cumming on his dick had him pressing even harder into her. 

“Fuck, yessss!” She cried, marking his back up while she came. 

“I love you.” He said into her ear, finally pausing his movements to allow her body to carry out the rest of her climax. 

Her breath hitched as she embraced every emotion all at once. Still keeping her nails in his back she stared up at the ceiling as her breathing slowly returned to normal. Terry sat up and placed kisses against her cheek, noticing the tear that fell from the corner of her eye. 

“Say it.” Terry commanded. 

“I-I love you t-too.” She spoke in between breaths, body still feeling the effects of her orgasm. 

Terry kissed her softly along her jaw and neck until her body had completely returned to its relaxed state. Khloé finally looked up at him with heavy eyes. Usually she’d be the one causing a K.O. with her partners but it was her turn to receive all of that pleasure and more… and she did just that. 

Khloé’s head rested against Terry’s chest as the two of them laid together. He held onto her, arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she ran her thumb against the thin hairs on his chest. They laid like this in silence, soaking up the presence of one another, not wanting to let go of the other anytime soon. 

“Can I ask you something?” Khloé said, breaking the silence. 

“Of course.” 

“Does this mean we’re officially together or was this just a spur of the moment? You know, because we hadn’t seen each other in a while?” She was somewhat nervous about the answer. 

Although Terry didn’t seem like the type to just hit it and go on like nothing happened, she still needed to know where they stood with each other. 

“I meant what I said.” Terry started. “I can’t handle not being with you. Your presence alone fills me up. I want to know what’s going on with you at all times. I want to know when you’re upset, when you’re happy, when you’re scared, when you’re confused. I don’t wanna be without you again.” 

Khloé sat listening to him go on about how much she meant to him, every word securing her in the role she played in his life. She felt herself smiling against his chest, happy to hear that she was as important to him as he was to her. 

“Well you can’t get angry with me and shut me out for weeks at a time, I wanna know what you’re thinking too.” She spoke honestly. “Even if you’re not in the mood to talk, at least telling me that will make me feel better. I don’t wanna feel shut out by you again.” 

“I got you. However, you also have to talk to me Khloé. You can’t just make assumptions about how I’m feeling and let your emotions make decisions for you.” He said, rubbing his hand against her hips.

“It won’t happen again.” She said in a soft voice. 

“But above all, you’re mine and I’m yours, anything you want me to do, I’ll do it.” 

She sat up and rested on her chin as she looked at him “You promise?” 

“I promise.” He responded with a kiss on her forehead. 

“Good, I’m ready for round two. It’s my turn.” She said, cutting straight to the chase. She lifted up from his hold and straddled his waist, preparing to ride him until the sun came up.

Terry chuckled to himself appreciating the fact that after all this time, her sex drive never wavered. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Terry sat in his office, wrapping up his last zoom meeting before heading home for the day. The end of the months were always the busiest for him. Business calls, payroll, month end stats and having to prepare for the beginning of a new month. The only thing on his mind was having a nice meal after handling so much within eight hours of his work day. 

*Knock Knock* 

“Come in.” He announced without looking up. 

“Are you busy Mr. Richmond?” The familiar voice spoke, causing him to let out a quiet sigh of annoyance before responding. His name on her tongue just didn’t hit the same as it would when Khloé said it. 

“Yes I am, do you need something Nia?” He asked dryly, raising his brows as he looked up at her. 

“I was just wondering if you wanted to grab some dinner tonight?” She asked, walking further into his office. “My treat.” 

Nia had completely taken over Khloés job at the warehouse but not because she genuinely loved the family business. She wanted the man that came with it of course. There was never a day that went by that Nia wouldn’t find a reason to speak with Terry, even if it was something as small as the weather for the day. 

“The answer is still no Nia, but thank you.” He said, turning his attention to his computer. 

“Why do you play so damn hard to get?” Nia spat. She walked closer to his desk, leaning over the folders that laid across the top of it. “I know you like ‘em feisty, I know you like ‘em pushy and I know you like ‘em to be dominant. That's why you were with Khloé except she’s a fraud and I’m not. So what is it? You afraid of a real woman, Mr. Richmond?” 

Terry kept his eyes on his computer not bothering to further entertain Nia and her constant attempts at getting with him. 

“You tired ass bitch!” The voice shot through the room, causing Nia to spin around and Terry to snap his head in the direction it came from. 

Terry looked down at his watch, panicking once he realized he was supposed to meet Khloé outside so they could head to dinner together. He stood from his desk and quickly walked over to her. 

“I’m sorry baby, I had all of those meetings and I lost track of time.” He said, placing a kiss on her cheek. 

Khloé’s eyes never left Nia as Terry tried to pull her in for another kiss. 

“Give us a minute.” She spoke dryly, ignoring Terry’s attempt.

“But this is my office.” He said, jerking his head back a bit in confusion.  

Khloé looked up at him, the expression alone sending him the message loud and clear. Terry threw his hands up in defeat as he walked over to grab his cell phone and keys from the top drawer in his desk. 

“I’ll be outside.” 

Khloé stood there, LV hanging from her fingertips as she stared at Nia, disdain written on both of their faces. This was a standoff that had been well overdue. Between Nia's backhanded attempts to ruin her relationship with her mother and her relation with Terry, Khloé had waited for the right moment to deal with Nia face to face. 

As pathetic as Nia was, she remained persistent. Ruining Khloé’s relationship and spilling her business at the dinner table wasn’t enough for her. She wanted to put the nail in the coffin and Terry was her way to do it. The only problem was, he never paid her any attention unless it was strictly work related. After all of those failed attempts here she stood face to face with her competition who wasn’t even aware that they were competing with one another. 

“I could’ve sworn you were done faking your relationship with him, you’re still that desperate Khlo?” Nia smirked, fiddling with the papers on Terry’s desk. 

“Not as desperate as you. How many times have you asked him to dinner just to be rejected every time?” Khloé asked, tilting her head to the side. 

Nia scoffed, rolling her eyes as she looked to the side. 

“Look Nia, I’m not about to waste too much time on you cause you’re not worth it, even your own parents didn’t bother to waste a moment with you that’s why you’re so busy trying to steal mine.” Khloé shot, watching Nias nostrils flare from the comment. 

“Bitch you’ve got your nerve, did you forget I witnessed the fallout between you and your mother?” Nia shot back. 

“Yes I am aware, but at least she cared enough about me to at least be in my life. Where is yours?” Khloé asked, smiling slightly knowing she had hit a nerve. 

Nia stood silently, clenching her jaw as she tried to think of a rebuttal. 

“Exactly.” Khloé chuckled. “Now let me make something very clear to you, Terry and I are together, in real life. Not because I’m paying him but because he actually wants to be with me, but I’m sure you’re not familiar with that feeling. You know, actually being wanted.” 

Khloé went on. “But even if we weren’t together, you still couldn’t have him or any other man because you’re just not that girl. Hence why you’re begging to pay for his food everyday. So whatever you thought you were about to come in here and do, give it up.” 

Nia's blood was boiling as she stared Khloé down. The way Khloé stood there so carelessly, so unbothered by her presence had pissed Nia off to the point of no return. But there was nothing she could do about it because none of what Khloé said was false. 

Completely aware of Nia's anger, Khloé dug into her purse and grabbed her MAC Ruby Woo lipstick and her compact mirror. She applied the color effortlessly, seeing as though this had been her signature look for years. 

“Now, what I advise you to do is continue doing my old job and focus on figuring out why no one wants you.” Khloé said, popping her lips as she applied the final layer of the lipstick. “Try therapy or Jesus.”

Nias' lip twitched as she sat mugging Khloé, watching as she turned to leave Terry’s office. 

“Oh and do me a favor Imani?” Khloé began, turning to face Nia one last time. “Stop trying to be me so bad, because you can’t bitch.” 

With that Khloé walked out of the office, heading to her car where Terry stood waiting for her. Spotting her just a few feet away, he lifted his weight off of the car and opened the passenger door for Khloé to get in. 

“Everything good?” He asked, staring down at her as she strutted to the car. 

“Of course.” She placed a kiss on his lips and stepped into the passenger seat. “Let’s go.” 

The two of them made their way around the city, finally stopping at The Velvet Rose. Khloé suggested that they try some new restaurants downtown but Terry insisted on eating at her place. He honestly enjoyed the scenery, the ambience and the food. It was the perfect place for him to end a stressful workday with the woman he loved. 

“Pablo, do you mind if I step in here and prepare a meal for Terry and I? You can call it a night if you want, I’ll close the kitchen for you.” Khloé asked her head chef. 

“No ma’am, I don’t mind at all. ” He responded, moving around the kitchen to remove his apron and chef hat to grant her privacy as she prepared dinner. 

“Thank you Chef!” 

Terry sat back with his back pressed against the booth, tapping his leg to the rhythm of the music. Jazz was one of his favorite genres, the soft melodies, the smooth sounds of the instruments blended together always did the perfect job at helping him decompress after a stressful situation. 

After about thirty minutes in the kitchen, Khloé walked over to him with two plates in her hands. Finally reaching him, she placed the food down carefully before taking a seat in the booth beside him. 

“Why didn’t you have one of your waitresses bring the food out?” Terry asked, sitting up straight as he grabbed the silverware from the table. 

“I wanted to bring it.” She said, “Plus I cooked it so it’s only right that I bring it to you.” 

Khloé and Terry dug into their food as they engaged in deep conversation. Conversing about their future together, their individual goals and how they planned to spend the rest of their days. They spoke about their living situations and how neither of them were ready to completely move in together but loved the thought of being able to visit one another whenever they chose. 

Khloé had made it clear that she didn’t want to move in until she had a ring on her finger and Terry noted that for the future. She placed her fork down on her plate and looked over at as he devoured his food. 

“This may sound childish but the anniversary of the first date we went on is coming up soon.” Khloé smiled as she looked down at the food on her plate. 

“Why would that sound childish?” Terry asked. 

“I don’t know, I just assume only women should care about things like that.” 

“We should celebrate.” Terry said, taking a bite of steak. “Maybe go on our first vacation together.” 

Khloé looked up at him and a light bulb instantly went off in her head. “I wanna go to Japan. I’ve always wanted to go since Kandace went but I was afraid to go alone. What do you think?” 

“I think that’s the perfect place to go.”

The two immediately started planning for their trip out of the country. They discussed dates, flights, resort options and everything in between. Khloé was mostly excited about the trip, eagerly naming all of the cities she’d love to visit, Tokyo being at the top of her list. Terry pressed his back against the booth and looked at her, smolin to himself as she ranted about all of the things they could do together once they landed. 

Her excitement warmed his heart, seeing that she still lit up when she spoke to him about her dreams and plans for the future. Terry was so caught in his trance he hadn’t noticed that she stopped talking and was now staring back at him. 

“Why are you just staring at me?” Khloé asked shyly. 

Terry shook his head and placed the napkin from his lap onto the table. “I just missed this, that's all. I guess I’m just soaking up the moment as much as I can.” 

“I told you I’m not leaving again, we have plenty of more moments to come.” Khloé said. “Besides I’m just rambling like usual.” 

Terry wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, placing his lips against her temple. “I know but every moment is special to me, no matter how small it is. I like hearing you ramble.” 

Khloé stared up at him and smiled, feeling herself slowly melt into the seat beside him. They sat in each other's embrace 

The band began playing an instrumental version of For You by Kenny Latimore, the soft sounds of the saxophone and piano filled the space as they continued to stare at each other. 

“Dance with me, handsome.” Khloé suggested. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Terry grabbed her hand and walked her to the stage where the band sat. Lifting her arms above his shoulders, he rested his hands at her waist and they began to sway to the music. Khloé leaned her head forward and placed it against his shoulder, pressing her forehead into the crook of his neck. 

Khloé let herself sink into his arms placing most of her weight against him as they held onto one another. The band continued to play their own renditions of popular love songs, each musician playing their instrument with precision. Khloé closed her eyes as Terry rocked them softly side to side. She focused on the vibration of Terry’s voice rumbling against her temple, humming the melodies of the songs the band played. 

After years of chasing external love and validation, she had finally come to realize that the love she searched for was already within her. Centering herself for the first time in her life had brought her the ability to actually feel the love she had for herself in totality. Now that she was able to identify and operate in her own essence, she was able to manifest that same love into the man that held onto her as she stood in her very own restaurant. 

Lifting her head from his shoulder, she stared into his eyes.

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?” He asked, slightly smiling down at her. 

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything.” He responded, eyebrows slightly lifted, prepared for her command.

“Love me until we meet in the next lifetime.” She stated, eyes darting back and forth between his. 

He chuckled and placed a kiss on her lips before responding. “Yes ma’am.” 

That concludes FAVORS 

Thank you guys so much for reading, I hope y’all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I just started writing for the first time back in August and this was my very first series so I was a little rusty but we pushed through 🤞🏾 I love y’all down! 🩵😭 

Now let me finish this one-shot I got for my baby Kelvin… 

HAPPY NEW YEAR SISTERWIVES!! 🥳

[lili863]

oh I have a request! <3

Ominis x fem MC where Seb is a total ladies man and charms the pants off of every girl in school... every girl BUY MC who is picky and knows what she deserves. Seb is frustrated by this and keeps trying to win her over. Ominis finds this deeply amusing and becomes interested in MC. MC falls for Omi <3 Seb is jealous for a while but he's ultimately happy for them in the end.

BYSTANDER

Ominis x MC Feat: Playboy! Sebastian

Warning: Mature language, suggestive themes, jealousy, BANTER, pining, slight angst if you squint

AN: I AM ASHAMED TO EVEN POST THIS. This sweet anon asked me this mind you MONTHS if not half a year ago. I wrote this half way then got swarmed with other WIP and school. Please forgive me anon, if your still here, I hope I did this justice.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Sebastian wasn’t sure what drew him to you. You were already the talk of the school as the new fifth year. Perhaps it was the quiet confidence you exuded as you walked to his table, oblivious to all the stares coming your way. Or maybe it was the captivating allure of your cascading black locks or the enigmatic pull of your dark eyes, which seemed to beckon him whenever your paths crossed.

It was no secret that you were breathtaking. But it wasn’t just your beauty—it was the mystery surrounding you, the aura of intrigue that made Sebastian restless.

Your voice, your smile, your laughter—everything about you seemed perfect. At least, that’s what Sebastian thought, though he couldn’t comprehend how a girl like you existed.

It all started after you handed him his first defeat in Professor Hecat’s class—in record time, no less.

He vividly recalled approaching you afterward with his signature charming grin, complimenting your dueling skills. The reward for his effort? That enchanting smile of yours. In that moment, his heart skipped a beat, a delightful flutter stirring in the pit of his stomach.

What was that feeling? he wondered. And why did it appear only with you?

Whatever it was, Sebastian was determined to find out.

His toothy, boyish grin made an appearance, a mischievous twinkle lighting up his eyes. “So, what do you say, fifth year? Up for some private sessions?”

You hummed softly before shaking your head. “Unfortunately, I’m a bit busy this week. Perhaps next time?”

The way his face fell for just a moment was something he hoped you didn’t catch. He’d expected you to fold, maybe even blush bashfully like every other girl did. Instead, you met his gaze directly, your expression unwavering and polite—the same one you offered everyone else. It wasn’t the rejection that stung, but rather the indifference.

Still, Sebastian mustered a confident smile. “Of course. Not a problem. Let me know if you’re ever up for it. Next time, though, don’t expect the same outcome.”

You chuckled lightly, offering a polite smile. “That remains to be seen, Sallow. I’ll see you in class.”

Even the way you walked away was perfect. Did that pretty face of yours ever change?

Sebastian twirled his wand absently, a smirk tugging at his lips. He often found himself wondering what you’d look like with a blush on your cheeks or a hint of shyness in your eyes. Did your heart race as fast as his did?

And for Merlin’s sake, would you ever consider tying that long, silky hair into a ponytail just once—so he could get a better view of your neck?

He cursed himself, trying to shove such thoughts aside. He barely knew you. But resisting the pull of your presence was proving harder than he anticipated.

***************

“It’s like I’m invisible, Ominis,” Sebastian grumbled.

Ominis, his chin propped on his hand, smirked lazily as he listened. “Looks like you’ve finally met a girl with standards.”

Sebastian shot him a glare. “Hilarious. Remind me again why I even bother talking to you about this?”

Ominis straightened slightly, amusement still evident on his face. “Sebastian, you flirt with every girl in this castle. Forgive me if I’m struggling to see why this one is any different.”

Sebastian paused, his hands stilling over his cauldron. “What do you mean? I like her. Why else?”

Ominis’s brow arched skeptically. “And you’ve liked plenty of girls before. Yet you’re whining like a wounded Hippogriff. What makes her special?”

Sebastian fell silent, your face flashing in his mind.

Ominis sighed, rubbing his temples. “Let me guess—she’s immune to your charms, isn’t she?”

Sebastian bristled. “That’s not it! She’s… she’s intriguing, alright? Something about her is different.”

“Different how?” Ominis leaned back, his arms crossed. “Go on, convince me.”

“She’s…” Sebastian hesitated, then spoke with a mixture of admiration and frustration. “She’s beautiful, obviously. Her hair, her eyes… but it’s more than that. She’s graceful, confident, and bloody brilliant in dueling. I’ve never met anyone like her.”

Ominis tilted his head, his lips twitching into a smirk. “So, she’s gorgeous, skilled, and not falling for your nonsense. Sounds to me like you’re chasing her because she’s unattainable.”

Sebastian scowled. “It’s not like that.”

“Then why don’t you know a thing about her beyond how she looks?”

That stung. Sebastian opened his mouth to retort but found himself at a loss. It was true—most of their conversations had revolved around his life: Anne, Solomon, and his relentless search for a cure. You listened, supported, and even helped him… but he knew little about you in return.

Disappointed by Sebastian's response, Ominis toyed with the ladle in his hand. What was he expecting?

He understood why Sebastian was attracted to you. Being physically beautiful and polite was more than enough for people blessed with sight. But, for him, whose affections were tethered to the depth of one's character, he found himself at a loss.

Ominis heard Sebastian shuffle next to him before muttering, "Speak of the devil."

Instantly, he straightened up, finding himself eagerly awaiting the upcoming encounter.

"Hello Sebastian. Hello Ominis."

Your voice was sweet as always, but Ominis could tell it always held some level of restraint.

"Hello, MC," Ominis replied smoothly, inclining his head toward the sound of your voice.

"Hey," Sebastian greeted, flashing a charming smile, "Already done with your potion?"

"That I am."

"You're making the rest of us look bad, fifth year. Must you feel the need to be great at everything?"

A melodic laugh pushed past your lips. "Oh, flattery right from the start? You really are shameless, Sallow."

Sebastian smirked, leaning against the table. "What can I say? I have my talents."

You shook your head in amusement. "Talents? Sure, if you count an inflated ego."

Ominis’s lips quirked upward, listening to the exchange with a quiet sense of satisfaction.

Sebastian’s grin widened as he leaned forward. "Speaking of talents, what are you doing tonight?"

You raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching into a smirk. "Homework. You know, the thing you’re always avoiding?"

"I prefer to think of it as delegating," Sebastian shot back, unfazed. "Speaking of which, I could really use your help in the library tonight. Eight inches on cup transfiguration—it’s practically cruel."

You hummed thoughtfully, shifting your weight. "With me? Are you sure? I hear Madeline’s quite the expert. Maybe she’d be a better fit."

"Madeline’s fine, but she’s not you," Sebastian countered smoothly, shrugging. "Besides, I’d rather spend the evening with someone whose company I actually enjoy."

"An evening of company or an evening of antics?" you teased, your tone light but pointed.

Sebastian feigned innocence, placing a hand over his chest. "Antics? Me? You wound me."

"Good," you replied breezily. "Maybe it’ll keep you honest Sallow."

Sebastian’s grin faltered, only to return with renewed determination. "Come on, MC… say it."

You blinked, tilting your head. "Say what?"

"My name," Sebastian pressed, his voice low and cajoling. "It’s Sebastian. Not Sallow."

Your lips parted as if to respond, but your gaze suddenly shifted. In an instant, you darted forward, grabbing Ominis’s wrist just as he moved to drop an ingredient into his cauldron.

"Ominis, wait!" you exclaimed, your fingers closing around his arm.

"What the—?" Ominis started, freezing under your touch.

You spoke quickly, your voice steady. "That’s Dugbog tongue. It’ll explode if you mix it now."

Ominis’s brows knitted. "Dugbog tongue? I thought it was a leech."

"Common mistake," you replied with a small smile, releasing his arm. "They feel almost identical."

Ominis let out a low chuckle, his expression softening. "Unfortunately, you’re right. Thanks for saving me from a very unpleasant end."

Sebastian, who had been watching the exchange with growing irritation, cleared his throat loudly. "Yes, thanks, MC. Always so observant."

You turned back to Sebastian, your lips curving into an amused smirk. "You’re welcome, Sallow."

Ominis huffed out a small laugh as Sebastian face fell.

As you gathered your things to leave, you glanced back at Ominis. "I’ll see you both later. Try not to blow up the classroom."

With that, you were gone, leaving Sebastian seething and Ominis… smiling?

"What’s so funny?" Sebastian snapped.

Ominis tilted his head, his smirk growing. "Oh, nothing. Just amusing to watch someone who can actually keep you in line."

Sebastian huffed. "She’s not keeping me in line. She’s…"

"Resistant to your charms? Immune to your flattery?" Ominis offered dryly. "Do go on."

Sebastian shot him a glare. "You’re insufferable."

"And you’re predictable," Ominis quipped, his smirk unwavering. "Do try to keep up, Sallow. You’re losing ground."

The dark-haired male huffed, irritated by Ominis, and returned to stirring his cauldron, trying to swallow his frustration. He barely had a moment to regain his composure when a voice called out.

“Hey, Sebastian.”

He turned sharply, his trademark smirk slipping effortlessly into place. “Well, well, look who it is.”

“Merlin, Sebastian,” Ominis muttered, his tone dripping with exasperation at the return of his friend’s unmistakable flirty demeanor.

“What?” Sebastian shot back, not even bothering to glance at Ominis. His attention was fully occupied by the blonde-haired girl standing before him, her giggle doing nothing to temper his grin.

“MC was literally just standing here a few seconds ago,” Ominis pointed out dryly, his voice calm but pointed.

“Relax,” Sebastian said with an exaggerated shrug, patting Ominis’s arm dismissively. “I’m just being polite.”

Ominis tilted his head ever so slightly, a lopsided grin ghosting over his lips. “Polite,” he thought, “is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Meanwhile, Sebastian remained blissfully oblivious to your quiet observation from across the room. A flicker of something passed over your face as you caught sight of the scene. Without hesitation, you gathered your things, your movements deliberate but restrained, and turned away from the distraction.

Ominis, ever perceptive, turned his head in your direction as if sensing the subtle shift in the air.

The blonde-haired girl’s laugh rang out, cutting through the din of the classroom, but Ominis didn’t react. Instead, he leaned slightly toward Sebastian, his voice low and deliberate.

“Perhaps next time, try focusing on the person who’s actually worth your time,” Ominis murmured, his tone both sharp and laced with quiet amusement.

Sebastian faltered briefly, his grin flickering before he resumed his casual demeanor. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

Ominis allowed himself a faint smile. “Oh, I assure you, I’m only as entertained as the situation warrants.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, trying to dismiss the weight of Ominis’s words. Yet, for a fleeting moment, his gaze darted across the room, landing on your retreating figure as you disappeared through the classroom door.

Ominis, ever attuned, didn’t need to see the shift in his friend’s demeanor to know exactly what had crossed his mind. He tapped the edge of his cauldron with deliberate precision and leaned back in his chair.

“Predictable as always, Sebastian,” he said softly, his smirk returning. “But at least you’re consistent.”

-----------------------------

You walked down the dimly lit hallways of Hogwarts, your bag filled with every supply you and Sebastian could possibly need for your late-night study session. You’d even managed to snag a few snacks from the kitchens, hoping the treats might keep him focused. Of course, you knew it was wishful thinking. Half the time, Sebastian spent more energy charming you than actually working.

At first, you didn’t mind. He was charming—boyishly cute with a surprising nerdy streak most people didn’t notice. But then came the lingering glances and playful remarks he tossed at other girls when he thought you weren’t looking.

You sighed, shaking your head. Tonight, you’d focus on the task at hand—finishing the work Professor Weasley had so generously dumped on you both.

As you descended the grand staircase and pushed open the door to the library, your resolve faltered. Barely ten steps in, you spotted Sebastian. And… a girl.

Oh, for goodness’ sake.

The two were leaning close, soft laughter passing between them. You watched as Sebastian reached out to tuck a stray strand of the girl’s hair behind her ear. For a moment, you stood there, frozen in the middle of the library aisle. Should you interrupt?

Sebastian made the decision for you. Taking the girl’s hand, he led her toward a secluded corner, well out of your sight.

Your jaw tightened as you glanced at the clock. 7:01. He was already late.

You debated sitting down to start the work on your own, but the irritation bubbling inside you made that impossible. Yeah, forget it, you thought, spinning on your heel and heading straight back to the dorm.

It wasn’t jealousy, you told yourself firmly as you stormed through the corridors. No, you’d long accepted that Sebastian Sallow was a notorious flirt. And you didn’t despise him for it. Honestly, good for him. If anyone deserved a break from the relentless stress of life, it was Sebastian.

But the audacity to ask for your time—to make you gather supplies and prepare—only to waste it?

Unacceptable.

You slammed the door of your dorm behind you, letting out a frustrated huff. Truth be told, you didn’t care who Sebastian spent his evenings with. What grated on your nerves was his lack of respect for your time.

The next day, you found yourself by Ominis’s side during Professor Hecat’s class. The two of you had taken up residence in a quiet corner, observing the dueling practice from a safe distance. Ominis’s expression, as always, was one of calm amusement.

“So,” he began, a smirk tugging at his lips, “did I hear correctly that you ditched Sebastian last night?”

You huffed, a small smile forming despite yourself. “Yes. That’s exactly what I did.”

Ominis chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What exactly happened?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to face him. “Merlin, Ominis, what didn’t happen? I caught him… otherwise engaged with some girl in the library. Suffice it to say, he didn’t seem particularly interested in studying.”

Ominis’s lips twitched in disapproval. “How typical. And he wonders why he’s perpetually behind on assignments.”

“I’m not angry,” you clarified, leaning back against the wall. “Just annoyed. If you’re going to snog someone, that’s fine. But don’t ask for my help and then waste my time.”

Ominis tilted his head, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You don’t care who he’s with?”

“Not in the slightest,” you replied smoothly. “I’ve been trying to make it abundantly clear that I don’t feel that way about him, but for someone as clever as Sebastian, he’s remarkably dense.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “You’re aware he’s not going to give up easily, don't you?”

You groaned, letting your head fall lightly against his shoulder. “That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ll probably have to spell it out for him. He’s a great guy, but I think we’d be better off as friends.”

Ominis froze at the unexpected closeness, his breath catching in his throat. You were warm against him, your hair brushing softly against his cheek, and that subtle perfume you always wore was intoxicating. His heart raced, betraying his usually calm demeanor.

“What do you think?” you asked softly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t keep pretending.”

Ominis forced himself to breathe, his lips parting as he composed his thoughts. “I think you’re right,” he said finally, his voice steadier than he felt. “Sebastian may not like it, but honesty is always better than false hope.”

You offered him a grateful smile, your eyes searching his face for a moment longer than necessary. “Thank you, Ominis. You’re always so… thoughtful.”

“Someone has to be,” he replied lightly, his smirk returning. “Merlin knows Sebastian has enough recklessness for the both of us.”

You laughed, the sound making his heart stutter in his chest. As you turned back to watch the duels, Ominis found himself lost in thought.

Sebastian might not be the only one with feelings to navigate.

********************

It was midterms week and unfortunately you didn't have time to entertain Sallow and his remarks, just ignoring them when suddenly you found yourself right in between the two boys one night.

The common room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fireplace and the faint scratch of quills against parchment. It was well past curfew, and most of the other students had already retired for the night. The trio of you, however, were huddled together in your spot—a corner sofa bathed in warm firelight, books and parchment scattered across the low table in front of you.

Sebastian was sprawled out, his legs kicked up onto the coffee table, his quill twirling absently between his fingers. Ominis, ever composed, sat with his back straight, his hands deftly organizing the scrolls in front of him. You leaned forward, resting your chin in your palm, trying to focus on your notes but failing as your gaze kept drifting between the two boys.

“Alright,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I can't do this anymore, my brain is fried.”

Sebastian smirked, leaning back even further. “That’s hardly new.”

You rolled your eyes. “I mean it. We’ve been studying for hours. We need a break.”

“Oh no,” Ominis said dryly, his lips quirking into a small smirk. “I’ve heard this tone before. Whatever you’re about to suggest, it’s going to end poorly.”

You grinned. “Nonsense. How about a bit of friendly competition. A trivia game.”

Sebastian sat up, his interest piqued. “Trivia? Alright, I’m in. But be warned, I am unbeatable”

Ominis let out a soft scoff. “Unbeatable at what, exactly? Losing gracefully?”

Sebastian grabbed a pillow and tossed it at Ominis, hitting him square in the chest. Ominis’s lips twitched as he carefully set the pillow aside. “Charming as always, Sebastian.”

You clapped your hands together, delighted. “Perfect. First question: What’s the incantation for a basic light spell?”

“Lumos,” Sebastian said immediately, puffing out his chest.

Ominis’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Lumos, of course. But would you like to answer with a little less bravado next time, Sebastian?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Careful, Gaunt. That’s awfully bold talk for someone sitting so close to my wand.”

Ominis leaned back slightly, his smirk never faltering. “Your wand? Ah, yes, the one you haven’t managed to use properly since third year. How terrifying.”

You grinned, biting back laughter. “Alright, let’s step it up: What’s the counter-spell for Lumos?”

“Nox,” Ominis said immediately, his tone measured. Sebastian chimed in just a split second later.

Sebastian threw his hands up. "You know what? I think you’re far too quiet, MC. I can barely hear you."

You began laughing at Sebastian’s poor excuse. "Oh, is that what happened there, Sallow? You couldn’t hear me?"

"That’s exactly what happened—matter of fact," Sebastian got up and sat right next to you, draping an arm over the top of the couch. You scoffed, half laughing, half rolling your eyes.

Ominis raised a brow, slightly annoyed. When you turned toward him, he interjected smoothly. "No, I’m just fine right here, MC. God knows I have better hearing than my deaf friend over there."

You shook your head in amusement as Sebastian clicked his tongue. "There’s no room on the couch anyway, Ominis—oof!"

You elbowed Sebastian lightly in the stomach. Ominis, watching the exchange with his usual calm, allowed a small smirk to tug at his lips. "You’re right, Sebastian. It must be terribly crowded with all your ego in one spot."

You snorted, trying to keep a straight face. “Ouch. Merlin Sallow you better step it up. Alright, next one: What’s the incantation for producing water?”

“Aguamenti,” Ominis answered immediately.

Sebastian groaned audibly, dragging a hand down his face.

“Well, did you hear that one, Sallow?” You crossed your arms, smiling smugly at the boy.

“Okay, first of all, you said the question wrong, sweetheart, so why don’t we correct that?”

You jumped to the other end of the couch with a gasp. “What!?”

“Oh, here we go,” Ominis scoffed, shaking his head.

“Okay,” Sebastian intervened, ready to plead his case, “it’s ‘what’s the incantation for producing water from your wand,’ not just producing water, because technically, you can produce water nonverbally.”

Your eyebrows knitted so tight it hurt your head. “And how’s that?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, fighting the smirk on his face. “Wandless magic.”

“Oh, you pompous, arrogant little—” you snapped, cutting yourself off as you grabbed a pillow and hurled it at Sebastian. It struck him squarely in the chest, drawing a dramatically overplayed grunt from the boy.

Ominis let out a smooth, low chuckle from where he sat, clearly entertained. Without hesitation, he picked up another pillow and handed it to you, his smirk sharp and teasing. “Please, don’t let me stop you.”

Sebastian held his hands up defensively, his trademark grin faltering as you landed another solid hit. “Oi! A little help here, Ominis?” he called, his voice tinged with mock betrayal.

Ominis leaned back slightly, his expression calm and composed, but his smirk betrayed his amusement. “Why ruin a perfectly entertaining moment? You seem to be earning this, Sallow.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up as Sebastian scrambled to avoid another swing. The brief moment of chaos eased the tension from earlier, leaving a pleasant warmth in its wake. When the commotion finally died down, you straightened your posture, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as you turned back to the quiz. “Next question,” you said firmly, though the glare you shot at Sebastian still held a spark of playful annoyance.

"What’s the incantation for summoning an object?”

“Accio,” Sebastian said immediately, leaning forward with a grin. “Too easy.”

“Accio,” Ominis echoed calmly, his smirk growing. “I believe the question was directed to both of us, Sebastian. You don’t have to shout.”

“Just making sure everyone heard,” Sebastian retorted.

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Alright then, Ominis. If you’re so confident, prove it. Can you actually use Accio correctly?”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, his expression calm yet amused. “Are you doubting my abilities?”

“Not doubting,” you said innocently, leaning slightly forward with a playful smirk. “Just… curious. I mean, how do we really know you’re as good as you claim?”

Sebastian chuckled under his breath, clearly relishing the setup. “Cause he's all bute and no bark.”

Ominis set his scrolls aside with deliberate precision, his sharp smile tugging at his lips “Fine. But let’s make it interesting. If I succeed, you owe me a favor.”

Your eyebrows rose, intrigued. “And if you fail?”

“I’ll owe you one,” Ominis replied smoothly, his tone confident without a hint of hesitation.

You leaned back, crossing your arms, your grin widening. “Deal.”

Sebastian leaned forward, clearly entertained. “Alright, Gaunt. Show us what you’ve got.”

Ominis pulled out his wand, tilting his head as if considering his options. Then, with a flick of his wrist and a quiet, “Accio,” you felt a sudden, firm tug on your arm.

Before you could react, you were pulled clean off the couch. You let out a startled yelp as you stumbled forward into his arms, only to be caught by his steady hands at your waist. His grip firm but gentle as he steadied you, keeping you from falling completely.

For a moment, you stared up at him, wide-eyed. Ominis’s smirk softened into something gentler, though the mischievous glint in his pale eyes remained. “I believe that’s a success,” he murmured.

You blinked, trying to ignore the heat and blush creeping up your face. “Alright, fine. I’ll admit it. That was impressive.”

Sebastian, who had been watching with a mixture of surprise and irritation, finally found his voice. “You could’ve just summoned a book, you know.”

Ominis helped you back to your seat, his smirk returning full force. “And miss an opportunity to shut you up? Never.”

The three of you all went to bed pretty late that night. Except you didnt get nay sleep, you were too busy feeling the prickles on your skin from where Ominis held you.

*******************

A mere few days pass, midterms were up and you were pretty much screwed when it came to herbology.

The hallway leading to Herbology was bustling with students, but you were weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. Your bag was slung over your shoulder, packed with parchment and ink for the upcoming lesson. The fresh morning light streamed through the high windows, painting the corridor in a golden glow. You were nearly at the greenhouse doors when a familiar voice called out to you.

“Hey, MC! Wait up!”

You turned just as Sebastian jogged up to you, his usual boyish grin firmly in place. He looked effortlessly charming, as always, his tie slightly askew in that roguish way that seemed more deliberate than accidental.

“Good morning, Sallow,” you greeted, your tone polite but cautious.

Sebastian matched your pace, walking alongside you. “Herbology, huh? You’re really committed to getting dirt under your nails first thing in the morning.”

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your lips tugging up into a faint smirk. “And you’re really committed to finding new ways to bother me, first thing in the morning.”

“Bother you?” he repeated with mock offense, placing a hand over his chest. “MC, I’m wounded. Can’t a man simply enjoy your company without ulterior motives?”

“A man? Perhaps. But you, Sebastian?” You tilted your head, your smirk widening. “I’d be surprised if you went five minutes without flirting.”

He grinned, unbothered by your jab. “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of holding a meaningful conversation that doesn’t involve compliments.”

“Prove it,” you shot back.

Sebastian chuckled, letting a moment of silence stretch between you before leaning closer. “You know, you’re lucky I’m such a persistent fellow. Most people wouldn’t bother trying to win over someone as stubborn as you.”

“Win over?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Oh, Sebastian, I didn’t realize this was a competition.”

“Everything’s a competition if you try hard enough,” he quipped, flashing a grin. “And I always win.”

“Except when you don’t,” you countered with a sly smile, thoroughly enjoying the banter.

“Fair enough,” he conceded, though his grin didn’t waver. “How about this? Let me take you to Hogsmeade. An unofficial… let’s call it an outing. What do you say?”

You blinked, caught off guard for a moment. Your lips parted to respond, but before you could, another voice interrupted.

"Uh..."

“Sebastian! There you are!”

Both of you turned to see Madeline, one of the more outgoing girls from Ravenclaw, hurrying over with a bright smile. She barely spared you a glance before her attention zeroed in on Sebastian.

“Madeline,” Sebastian greeted smoothly, though there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, nothing in particular,” she replied with a laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Then, without warning, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Sebastian’s cheek. “But I was hoping we could go to Hogsmeade again soon. You’re so much fun to be around.”

Your chest tightened at the sight, your earlier smirk vanishing as a flicker of irritation flared within you. A mix of embarrassment and offense churned in your stomach. Really? you thought, incredulity and frustration bubbling under the surface. You stepped back slightly, arms crossing as the lightness of the banter evaporated entirely.

Sebastian, visibly flustered, turned back to you, his usual smoothness faltering. "Uh, Madeline… right. That was… unexpected," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, not that I’m… complaining?"

Madeline beamed, her attention entirely on him. "Of course not! It’s always a pleasure to see you, Sebastian. So, how about that Hogsmeade trip? Just us this time? I promise it’ll be even more fun than before."

Sebastian hesitated, glancing briefly at you before responding, his tone awkward. "Uh, yeah, sure, Madeline. That… sounds great."

She grinned triumphantly, reaching out to adjust his crooked tie with practiced familiarity. "Perfect. I’ll owl you later to set it up. Don’t keep me waiting too long." He managed a strained chuckle before adding, "Anyway… MC, about that outing—"

You held up a hand sharply, cutting him off. Your lips pressed into a tight smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Don’t bother, Sallow.” Your voice was clipped, with an edge that even you were surprised at.

“Clearly, you’ve got plenty of company lined up already,” you added, flicking your gaze briefly toward Madeline before returning to him, your expression cool. “And who am I to get in the way of… such enthusiasm?”

Sebastian opened his mouth, his usual confidence visibly faltering. “MC, I didn’t mean… I was just…”

Your lips curled into a tight smile, more cutting than kind. “Oh no, don’t feel guilty, Sallow. I’m cheering you and Madeline on. Just don’t screw it up,” you said coolly, flicking your gaze toward the Ravenclaw girl. “Ravenclaw girls can get pretty creative if you break their hearts.”

Sebastian looked caught between a grimace and a reply, but you didn’t wait. “Enjoy Hogsmeade, Sebastian,” you added, letting the weight of your words hang in the air for a moment longer before turning on your heel and striding away.

Then, with a deliberate turn, you strode off toward the greenhouse, your chin held high and your steps firm. The heat of embarrassment and irritation prickled at the back of your neck, but you didn’t let it show. How could he even think that was okay? The audacity, the disrespect, it all stung more than you’d care to admit.

The sound of the greenhouse door closing behind you felt like the final word, leaving him standing in the hallway, stunned and uncharacteristically silent.

The greenhouse was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves as you worked. Hours had passed since your encounter with Sebastian, and the irritation still lingered, simmering just beneath the surface. The day had stretched long, and now dusk was falling, casting the space in shades of deep pink and orange. The air was thick with the earthy scent of soil and herbs, but your focus wavered. No matter how hard you tried, the names of the plants before you refused to stick.

“Ashwinder Eggplant? No, that’s… that’s not even right,” you muttered under your breath, your fingers fumbling with the leaves of a particularly thorny shrub. Frustration bubbled up, threatening to spill over.

“You’ve been here all day, haven’t you?”

The smooth, familiar voice startled you, and you spun around, nearly knocking over a pot in the process. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the fading light, was Ominis. His expression was unreadable, his head tilted slightly as if he were studying you without the need for sight.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

Ominis raised an eyebrow, stepping into the greenhouse. “I might ask you the same question. Shouldn’t you be having dinner right now?”

“I…” You hesitated, your shoulders sagging. “I’m trying to remember the characteristics of these plants, but it’s like my brain’s turned to mush. And the exam is tommorow”

He approached, his movements deliberate, almost graceful. Without saying a word, he reached out to steady the pot you had nearly knocked over, his fingers brushing the edge with practiced precision. The cool, unhurried way he moved contrasted sharply with your frazzled state, as though the chaos of the moment didn’t touch him at all. “It sounds like you’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”

“No kidding,” you muttered, turning back to the shrub in front of you. “I just need to get this right. If I can’t even name this plant, how am I supposed to handle the rest of Herbology?”

For a moment, Ominis said nothing, simply standing beside you. The weight of his presence felt grounding, steady in a way you didn’t realize you needed. Then, he reached out, his fingers brushing over the plant's jagged leaves.

“That would be a Venomous Tentacula,” he said quietly. “The slight curl at the edges of the leaves gives it away.”

You stared at him, surprised. “How do you…”

“I’ve spent a lot of time here, listening to Professor Garlick describe them, and for someone like me naming these plants require touch or smell" he replied with a small smile. “I may not see the details, so thats how I remember them.”

“Line the plants up,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “All of them, right here.” He gestured to the workbench in front of you.

“Why?” you asked, confused but already moving to comply.

“Trust me,” he replied simply, stepping closer as you arranged the pots. His cool confidence left little room for argument, and you found yourself following his lead.

Once the plants were lined up, Ominis moved closer, his presence enveloping but never rushed. You heard the faint clink of his wand being set carefully on the workbench, a deliberate motion that seemed to echo in the stillness of the greenhouse. He stepped behind you, leaning in just enough that his warmth brushed against your back, his breath grazing your ear.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured, his voice rich and steady, carrying an authority that felt both comforting and irresistible.

Your heart stuttered as you obeyed, your fingers gripping the edge of the bench to anchor yourself. Darkness sharpened your other senses: the subtle rustle of his movements, the scent of parchment and something earthy that clung to him, and the whisper of his breath trailing near your neck.

“Relax,” he said, his tone even and assured. His hands slid down your shoulders with leaving goosebumps. His fingers intertwined gently with yours, his touch featherlight yet deliberate.

He guided your fingers toward the first plant, his movements steady and controlled.

“This one,” he said, brushing your fingertips along the waxy surface of a leaf. “It’s thicker, smoother, with tiny pricks along the edges.”

As your hands moved further up the leaf, his fingers tightened over yours, pulling them back gently but firmly.

“Careful. The pricks are sharp,” he murmured, his breath grazing your ear.

“Oh,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. Your chest rose and fell unevenly, your focus entirely consumed by the closeness, the heat of his hands guiding yours.

“Can you guess what it is?” he asked, his tone calm but laced with quiet encouragement.

“Um… Mimbulus Mimbletonia?” you ventured, your voice unsteady.

“Exactly,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. “You’re better at this than you think.”

His hands lingered for a moment before moving to guide yours to the next plant.

“This one requires care,” he murmured, his tone softer, almost reverent. “The stems are delicate. Feel the faint ridges"?

His finger wrapped around your guiding them over the ridges painfully slow making sure you feel every single bump. 

"Other plants do not have the ridges going horizontally. That’s a Puffapod.”

“Right,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

“Good,” he repeated, his breath warm and close. 

The moment stretched, heavy with unspoken tension as the greenhouse bathed in the golden-pink hues of the fading sunlight.

"Now, this one is a bit tricky," Ominis said, his tone measured as he ran his fingers lightly over the plant’s surface. "And you might not enjoy the sensation." You tensed, your voice hesitant. "W-why? Will it hurt?"

"You know I wont let that happen. But it is a bit unpleasant to feel" The he picks up your hands and guides them and to your suprise the petals feel damp and even a bit slippery. You gasp at the sensation retreating back to ominis.

A low chuckle resonated near your ear, warm and rich. His grip on your hands tightened slightly, steadying you. "Uh-uh," he murmured, his voice like velvet. "Don’t pull away. Feel it. I know you know this." 

You swallowed hard, the word escaping almost on instinct. "...Shrivelfig?"

His lips curved into a faint smile, pride evident in his tone. "Correct."

And just like that, Ominis helped you memorize three plants in mere moments, something that had taken you hours before. You opened your eyes and turned to meet his gaze.

His eyes caught the faint light of the fading sunset, shimmering like pearls in the dusk of the greenhouse. They were intelligent, unyielding, and something else entirely.

Seductive.

“Your heart is beating too fast,” he remarked, his tone laced with quiet amusement. “Did you hate it that much?”

But hatred was the furthest thing from your mind. You were barely holding yourself together, the tension between you wound tight. You shifted subtly, squeezing your legs together, praying his perceptiveness wouldn’t catch the effect he was having on you.

“There’s… one more thing I’d like to feel,” you said, your voice soft but steady.

He tilted his head, nodding. “Sure. Which plant?”

Before he could process the shift in your intent, you leaned forward, your breath catching. You hoped—prayed—he wouldn’t hate you for this. Closing the space between you, you pressed your lips to his in a chaste, fleeting kiss.

He froze for the barest moment, a soft gasp escaping his lips, but you quickly stepped back, your face burning with both exhilaration and panic.

“I…” you began, words failing you as you dared to glance up at him.

Ominis’s smile deepened.

Before you could respond, he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your waist. “May I?” he asked, the question lingering in the air more as a formality than a request. When you didn’t pull away, his hand settled firmly, guiding you closer.

“Let’s try something,” he whispered, a playful edge to his tone.

You barely had time to process his words before he dipped his head, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek after finding them. The warmth of his lips made you gasp, and you felt the faintest hint of a chuckle against your skin as his lips trailed closer to the corner of your mouth. The deliberate slowness made you laugh softly, feeling them glide across you skin.

“Ominis…” you started, but whatever you were about to say dissolved when his lips found yours.

The kiss shifted from tender to all-consuming, his grip at your waist pulling you so tightly against him that it felt as though no space had ever existed between you. His other hand cradled the curve of your jaw, anchoring you in place as his lips moved with breathtaking intensity.

Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, your body instinctively matching his fervor. Every tilt of his head, every press of his lips felt precise and deliberate, as though he was memorizing every moment.

He leaned further down, his taller frame folding to meet yours, but just as the kiss threatened to completely drown you both, he broke away, his breath ragged. His hands slid to your thighs, and in one swift motion, he lifted you effortlessly onto the workbench. The cool surface beneath you was a sharp contrast to the fire coursing through your veins.

Ominis stepped closer, his body fitting perfectly between your legs as though he belonged there. You didn’t wait this time. Desperation spurred you forward, your lips finding his with a force that left no room for hesitation. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, drawing him closer as if letting go would shatter you.

His tongue grazed your bottom lip, slow and purposeful, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. You parted your lips, allowing him deeper, and the low groan that escaped him sent heat pooling in your stomach. Encouraged, his hands tightened on your thighs, fingers digging in just enough to leave an impression. His touch was commanding, possessive, leaving no doubt that he was entirely consumed by you.

Every kiss, every touch, every sound seemed to exist in a world that belonged solely to the two of you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven and warm against your lips. “Was that… to your liking?” he asked, his voice roughened with desire, the faintest smirk curling at the corners of his mouth.

Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, the tension between you thick enough to hold the world still.

“Very much, yes,” you whispered.

His thumb grazed your cheek tenderly “You know, I could get used to this.”

You tried to steady yourself, the words escaping before you could overthink them. “Could you?”

He tilted his head, as if savoring the moment. “More than anything,” he murmured, his tone dipping into something softer, more sincere. “So, what do you say, MC? Will you let me make this a habit… and call you mine?”

Your heart stuttered, but there was no hesitation in your reply. “Yes,” you breathed, a smile tugging at your lips. “Absolutely yes.”

You giggled, heart full, blushed cheeks unaware of the boy in the shadows of the greenhouse.

Sebastian lingered there, his back against the doorway as he watched the scene unfold. His usually confident demeanor was replaced with something more fragile, his expression unreadable. His hands clenched briefly at his sides, but then he let out a quiet huff, his lips twitching into a bittersweet smile.

'Well,' he thought. 'I suppose someone had to win her over.'

He stayed for a moment longer, his gaze fixed on the two of you as you laughed together, the sound light and unguarded. Though his heart ached, a flicker of bittersweet acceptance crossed his features. He leaned his head back against the doorway, closing his eyes for a brief second as if to steel himself.

When he opened his eyes again, they held a glimmer of something resigned but genuine—happiness for you both, despite the sting of his own loss.

He let out a quiet huff, the corners of his lips twitching into a small, wistful smile. Straightening, he gave one last glance toward the scene before turning and walking away into the fading light, leaving you and Ominis to your moment—a moment that wasn’t his to claim.

[volturiprincess]

You Kill Me (Pt 2.)

Caius Volturi x vamp female reader

Summary: The confrontation after part one. Warnings: Angst, foul language, mentions of sexual harassment, Caius' sinister side peeks (I think thats all?) A/N: FINALLY! Man it took a while but I mean I got writer's block with this one. I really wanted to dive a bit deep with this and I added a couple back and forth POV between reader and Caius (I almost added a Marcus POV but I changed my mind). Thank you to everyone who has been patient with this one-shot, I hope I did not disappoint. But as always...Enjoy💙 Word Count: 6k+ (My longest one so far)

(Here's Part 1)

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(This. Was. His. Era. Again Jamie did him justice🥰)

Recap….

We stood in silence, I wanted to say something but I didn't know what exactly. I must have been too deep in thought because when I looked up he was gone…..

Oh gosh. What have I done? Why didn't I just say something to him, anything really could have worked at that moment and maybe I would not of hurted him. I never wanted to hurt him in anyway, he’s my mate for fucks sake. Even if I'm still getting used to the idea of having him as my mate, or just being around vampire civilization again, I would never want to harm him. When I pushed him away the hurt his eyes reflected, hit me.

Why am I being so difficult with him? You would think finding your mate just clicks for one and everything in your life finally makes sense, you get a sense of being even but no I decided to just make this once in lifetime experience so complicated. I have been in communication with Carlisle of course via letters, and when I tell him about me and Caius, I can already picture him shaking his head in disappointment each time he reads my letters. He understands why I'm being like this but he finds it totallyunnecessary for me to act like this toward my own mate, he keeps telling me you only get one in this lifetime. 

I decided to head outside to the gardens, where I usually spend my alone time until I see Marcus there. It seems he was expecting me. 

“Hello Marcus, fancy seeing you here”

“I would say the same thing but we have matters to discuss, dear”

I guess Caius got to him already, even if Marcus never shows any sort of emotions, right now he's giving me the same look Carlisle would give me when I did something absurd. He motions for me to sit with him, which I join him instantly.

“I am already going to assume you know what I'm about to say?”

“I have a hunch of an idea”

I couldn't look at him because the look he's giving me was pure disappointment, I felt like a child being scolded by their parents. I know that feeling all too familiar, I was the ‘wild card' apparently compared to my brother when we were younger, father had a knack to always scold me even when it's something as little as forgetting to put away a cup. Carlisle had it easier compared to me, I was molded to be this lady that society would approve of, I was designed to be the perfect wife according to my father. Mother would have never wanted me to be raised like this, she was the one who encouraged me to read, she was even the one who taught me how until she passed away when me and Carlisle were 5. 

“Let’s start this off simple, how are you feeling?”

That is a very good question, how the fuck do I feel? Sure I feel confused, that's all I have been feeling since I found out about being mated to Caius but I mean I feel disgusted. I feel disgusted with myself, I heard stories over the years that the Volturi were supposedly these power hungry coven who are just ruthless but now I feel like I'm the true villain here. What kind of sick person– err vampire in this case– turns their back on someone who has been nothing but loving and patient with them? Caius, even if he has  been interesting with his tactics of showing affection, has only been patient with me, and how do I return the favor? I push him away and basically stomp on his heart.

“Terrible”

“Elaborate on that”

I really do feel like a kid currently.

“I feel terrible because I broke Caius heart” 

“And how?”

And now I feel like I'm in a therapy session.

“For months I turn away from our mate bond and refuse to give in, he does not deserve that, actually screw that he does not deserve a mate who just shuts him away for no reason”

“Oh but there is a reason to your uncalled behavior”

“Isn't there always a reason for everything?”

“Yes, which is why I'm asking you why are you being like this?”

“I dont know”

Of course I know why, I'm scared to give into the bond, what if I’m not good enough for him. What if I fuck up or something and he decides I'm not worth, that I'm not worthy in being his mate. I know you can't pick who your mate is or anything but he could do so much better than me, a person worthy enough to be his queen. Other than the fear, I'm angry. I've been forced to be here forever and don't even have the chance to see my brother. I miss him, he was all I had left of my family and now I have to be away from him. And my past trauma is always lingering.

“I doubt that”

“Marcus, no disrespect to you, but why are you invested in me and Caius? I know he's your brother and all but…why?”

I saw him look off to the distance, almost like I do on a daily basis when I'm reflecting on thoughts or events throughout the day. But I could see his expression change, instead of the disappointed look he had not that long ago, he looked gloomy which was his usual expression before I started to talk to him. 

“I told you about my…” I saw him take an unnecessary gulp ”late wife…Didyme,right?”

“Yes you did, she sounded like a lovely being, I would of loved to of meet her”

“She was, I mean she is. What i'm trying to say is I don't want to you or Caius to end up like me, I have had my brother in my life for so long and to see him finally find his mate, makes me surprisingly happy, I might not show it but internally I have a bit of peace”

Oh the guilt I have right now is no joke, the way he is speaking makes me worry more about the situation I created with his soul brother. The day he told me about Didyme was when I healed her favorite flower, he only told me a bit about her, her personality, features, how her smile could brighten any room, how with just a touch his worries and sadness would be like if it never existed. He truly loved her and the way he is barely going through life does make me sympathize for him big time. I actually make sure to check up on him at least once a day, from just asking him about the latest book he has read to just asking him to oversee my work in the garden, it's not much but I can see a bit of change in his eyes. 

“But I also do not want to see you suffer, I don't know what you are trying to accomplish with this behavior but you have become an important person to me. I view you as a sister I never had, makes me a bit envious of Carlisle since he has the honor to call you his actual sister.”

“Marcus I don't know what to say, I'll be honest with you but I view you as my brother as well, I see a bit of Carlisle in you”

“We are getting off topic but I appreciate your honesty dear, the point of this conversation is to come to your senses and accept Caius as your mate, I can see your bond with him weaken, you are doing nothing to nurture it, he was kind of trying but not in an effective way, in a way you two are acting like children, now if you will excuse me, I have matters to attend to”

He took off before I could even close my mouth at his revelation. He does make a point, I need to stop this ridiculous behavior I've been having and be willing to accept Caius as a mate. 

Caius POV

Humiliated. Disappointed. Defeated. Embarrassed. Furious. And Shameful. Who does she think she is? Was it perhaps my fault for pushing her and just throwing myself at her with that kiss? What was I thinking in doing such an action on her? I would never act like that or think to do it, I am a gentleman, I might not show it but I have never had no intentions to be this way. I still blame her. She is the one who has made me a whole different being. My brother has told me once you find your mate, everything just clicks, they are your equal side and they supposedly make you a better person. He’s wrong, since the minute I saw her I knew she would be trouble, I knew she would not be the right fit for me. 

How could she push me away like I was not worth anything. I have feelings. Wait? Do I? I never understood the purpose of expressing feelings. We feed on humans, I have no sympathy for them only that they keep my thirst down. But when I saw her, I felt the world stop, my main focus was on her and only her, not only because of her beauty but the aura she gave. I for once felt my unbeaten heart beat, I felt like I was suffocating from her scent, but at the same time I felt at ease. I still do not understand her purpose of being difficult with me, if I didn't spend our longest time together arguing with her I would've gotten answers to my questions.  

Maybe it is my fault as well, I have not been there for her. Marcus advised me to spend time with her to actually get to know her. He also warned me that I should be easy with her, she will never be able to see her family unless they come here. But what do I do instead? I basically seduced her with my charm and thought that would be enough to seal the bond. What an idiot I can be, but at the same time I at least tried to give into the bond, unlike her. She would just turn away from me and act like I was some low life, like a pest in a common sense. Who gave her the right to treat me in such a way? Maybe her brother was the one who influenced her to be this way with me? I knew that vegetarian vampire had it out for me, it only makes sense since he left, he probably knew she was my mate this whole time. 

She's such a child to top it off. Running away from a bond that is grander than any bond to existence, and yet she turns away from it like a coward. Just like her brother, always going on and off from having mortals or not. In the time she has been here, she is still not drinking human blood. I thought by now she would have converted to our diet but it would seem I was wrong. Another thing to add to my list of changes; being wrong. I have always been right and if someone goes against me then they will end up being sorry. She’s changing me more than I care to ever want.

Y/N POV

It's been a month since I last saw him, even before I would at least catch glimpses of him or he would approach me. He’s nowhere, I even asked some of the guards if they have seen him but I was met with disappointment. Not even Aro or Marcus have been any help, well I haven't actually talked to Aro yet, he still creeps me out. My mind has been rehearsing over and over in what I will say to Caius, it's all I can really think of.  And to think it's only a month, it has felt like an eternity, considering I have been around for a while now, it cannot compare to this month alone. I think I am finally losing it, I believe I am going mental now. The way my mind is being filled with endless thoughts and worries is really pushing me into a not so pretty mindset. I want to cry but I know I am unable to, I want to scream but what will that solve? I want to run away but Demetri would just track me down in an instant. I want to drown myself in books to at least distract my mind but I know whatever I read it would only be twisted and I would be thrown back to thinking about him. 

I even stopped  hunting, I haven't had not one ounce of blood since the last day I saw him. Why do I deserve to satisfy my thirst when I hurt my mate? Oh my mate, how much I am longing to be in his arms right now, telling him how sorry I am. To tell him what an idiot I have been this past half year, to tell him my fears of not being worthy of him, to tell him it's me and not him no matter how foolish that sounds. It's the truth there is nothing wrong with him, not even his anger issues bother me, on the contrary I love how he is not afraid to show his intense emotions out. Oh? I said the L word, well it's no issue to me because I think I do love him. How fucked up is that really? It took for him to stop coming up to me to finally realize I do have love for him.

I have been spending this whole month, when I was not looking for Caius, pacing in my room growing more and more mad. Not the emotion mad but like mentally losing it. But I think I am also mad, I mean I am trying to make it up to him but he won't even give me a chance. It's frustrating really. Oh no. Is this how Caius was when he was trying to seal the bond but I just turned away from him? Now I am really feeling the pain and guilt, this torment is just so painful for anyone to face. I made him go through this, I really am a monster.

I fell to my knees in defeat as I buried my face into my hands, the venom started to fill my eyes. All my walls started to crash down on me and I could feel myself almost physically hyperventilate as I was trying to remember to calm myself. I felt my old human self creep up. In my human years I would have my breakdowns after each lecture my father would give me. His talks about me being the ideal respectful woman would get to me too much.

His preaching never got easier, he even would force me to attend his social gatherings with other men so I could be viewed as an available choice as a wife. When my dad was not having an eye on me, those men would stare at me shamelessly, it made me feel gross and caused me to have a desire to be alone. Another reason why I avoided any type of civilization when me and Carlisle went our separate ways. 

Maybe that’s another reason why I was also being harsh toward Caius, I feared he was going to be like those men. It didn't  help his case to be proven wrong when he kissed me or the way he seduced me endless times. I need to talk to him. 

Caius POV

I feel foolish avoiding my own problems. I tend to get to the bottom of things but in this case it's different. How can I solve this? Wouldn’t it make sense for her to come up to me and apologize for her childish acts? The way she wouldn't even look me in the eye when I talked to her? Or how she would respond to me with a snarky remark? Gosh I think I love her attitude, even if she did hurt my feelings by rejecting me, I think I fell for her more each time I would approach her. But when she pushed me away, I noticed her attitude was true. Why would she want to be with a vampire who has the title of the ‘ruthless one’ out of the three? I never cared for what others think about me but with her, everything suddenly mattered. I wanted her to accept me for me.

My reputation means everything to me, I am the one who does not show mercy and I am the one to not give second chances. As for her, I would give her endless chances if it means she gets to be mine, only she can get her way with me. I would not let anyone know how her rejection has hit me, I would rather let my anger take over me to let others know she has no effect on me. Why is loving someone so hard? Love for me was always something I viewed as a weakness, look at me for merlin sake, I feel like being locked up in a room and refusing to be out and about. 

It is what I have been doing this past month, I been in my art room staring at a blank canvas. My muse, my inspiration, and my desire to create a masterpiece has left me. Before her I would decorate my walls with weekly original art from whatever came to my mind. And yet when she turned away, my yearning vanished like I drop my helpless dead meal fall to the ground after I drained them. 

A while ago I was painting her, I happened to decide to work outside on a little platform reserved for me only and I happened to spot her in the gardens. I never revealed myself to her but I had a perfect view of her staring off into the distance, the right lighting was even hitting her and the scenery around her was every artist's dream come true. 

I only got to sketch the background because I wanted to spend more time on just her. How she was posing unaware of my eyes on her, how her lips were slightly parted, how the wind picked up her hair slightly after each breeze. How her eyes held so much emotion while her other facial features stayed relaxed. She was and still is breathtaking to me. I could spend hours drawing different sketches of her if she were to let me, I even got an idea of a new statue to add in the gardens, it would be of her.

She’s like a reincarnation of Aphrodite, no I am mistaken she is more bewitching than the goddess herself. How have I gone a millennium's without witnessing such beauty in my life? I need her, she’s my missing muse. 

Y/N POV

When I was finally mentally composed enough I walked down one of the many hallways to head to the throne room. I have a feeling he might be there, I don't know where else he could be and nobody has told me about his whereabouts. I arrive hoping to see him there but only Marcus and Aro along with some of the guards who are within the shadows are there. I want to yell at them but I compose myself. 

“Aro, Marcus, where is he?”

Aro who as always tends to act unaware of things unless it is of interest to him decides to mess with me.

“Where’s who?”

“Look I have kept my patience for a while, but if you dare to test me today I will gladly knock you out again but this time it will be a month”

The hidden guards stepped out from the shadows after my little threat, already recognizing them I knew I could take them down. I was lucky that Jane and Alec were not around because my chances of winning would be low. 

“Why should we tell you where he is? Haven't you hurted him enough? I seen his thoughts I know the suffering you have put him through since your arrival”

I wanted to rip his head off so bad. How dare he meddle into mine and Caius' life? Soul brother or not, what me and Caius go through is our own business. I know he makes some sense about the suffering and pain but I have gone through my own pain also. Marcus settled a hand on Aro shoulder before I could think about attacking him

“Aro it is not our business to intercept into our brother and his mate's issues, my dear y/n he is in his art studio. Felix? Demetri? Would you mind taking her to his studio?”

They were both by my side and led me away. Good thing these two were taking me away, they are the only ones who would manage to stop me from attacking. It was a quick sprint and they nodded toward two large mahogany doors, it looked like it was indeed doors to an art room. It also seemed handcrafted, I had never seen such gorgeous details on a door before. I opened the door slowly to do a small peek into the room to see if he was there. He was there on a stool with a loose button up shirt that was open at the throat and he had some casual black slacks. His hair was a bit messy even and yet he was the most striking being I have ever seen in my lifetime. 

His gaze snapped at me as I was closing the door, his irises were matching his pupil from his lack of feeding. His eyes also matched mine, since I was also pushing away the need to feed. He watched my every move like a cat watches a mouse before pouncing on it.

“What do you want?”

“I-I I want to talk to you”

“Is that so? Took you a month to come to some senses did it?”

Well that hurt, I already knew he was going to be a bit sharp with his words yet that line hit me a bit hard.

Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe I still need time to be able to calmly talk to him. No, no keep yourself together y/n, I need to do this for not only my sake but for Caius.

“Well go on with it, I don't have all day”

“Look if you are going to start having an attitude with me then maybe we need to wait another day then to talk”

“I am not with attitude, I am just trying to get to the point, I don't like to dance around issues”

I took an unnecessary gulp like Carlisle would do when he would break bad news to me.

“I love you”

The pencil he had his hand fell to the ground and that was the only noise that was heard after my words. 

“I know you're probably thinking, how cruel can I be to say that after everything that has happened between us but it's the truth. It's always had love for you within me but I was scared to open that door, you see I wish we could turn back time and I could explain to you everything that has been going through my mind before that fateful day. I wanted to tell you something but you left before I could and-”

“Then explain to me why you have acted like a child”

His voice lost its sharpness, instead it was soft, the same softness his eyes reflected currently. I wanted to melt on the spot by how sweet he looked.

“Before I was turned, my father would display me like some doll to show others of my availability as a wife, when he was not looking the men he was presenting me to would basically undress me with there eyes, some of them would be brave enough and leave lingering touches on me after I would shake their hands, the only males in my life I trusted after that was Carlisle, even in my time when we were apart I was never near civilization, I feared for the day I would have to be around others.” He stood up from his stool but he stayed at a distance from me still.

“When I saw you I thought it was time to heal completely from my trauma, but with the way you would approach me it gave me slight flashbacks from the past, and it made me recoil from you a bit, but at the same time I wanted to be by your side. What didn't even help my case was I had a fear of not being enough for you. How can a vampire like me who has such fears be worthy of a king like you? You deserve someone who doesn't still feel an ick when she’s around others for too long. I felt if we were to talk sooner then we wouldn't be in this position but no you just did a quick and go, made me feel unworthy of your time even”

I wanted to say more but I decided to give Caius a space to talk also, I wrapped my arms around myself for comfort and looked away from him. I feel exposed and anxious just standing here in silence, waiting for him to say something. Please say something already.

“I was not expecting you to even start this with those words”

I knew it was strange to say that but I mean I wanted to reassure him I do have feelings for him.

“I think you make a great point in we should of had a civil conversation at the start of this to avoid our current issues, I-I apologize for my behavior, it was uncalled for and inappropriate of me to try to nurture our bond by seducing you in such a way, you should of been treated like a queen with respect and love. But you are wrong of not deserving me, on the contrary I feel like it's the opposite, you deserve someone better than me, after all the shit I put you through without knowing what you been through, Marcus advised me to be there for you and yet I was hardly there”

I felt my eyes fill with venom again but I was still not looking at him so he was not aware of how I was reacting to his declaration. 

“But at the same time I thought it was a bit foolish of you to try to back away from me, you should know from now on that when it comes to you, you can tell me whatever you want, no matter how harsh or straight forward your words might get, I can take it, you are my mate after all. I never want you to feel uncomfortable around me or feel the need to distance yourself from me either because I cannot bare being separated from you, incase you haven’t noticed I haven't been feeding lately either, much like I can see from your once glowing amber eyes that I manage to fall for, but back on topic we can work on your healing process together, no matter how long it takes we do have forever after all”

I looked up at him finally to be met with eyes filled with venom too. Not really having control over my mind or body I ran to him to pull him into a deep hug. His arms not thinking twice wrapped around me like if it were second nature to him. At that moment it felt as if our issues never existed and we were happy once again, so this is how Marcus felt with Didyme, now I understand why he was so worried for us. I would rather kill every being who dared to harm Caius in any way, than to see him suffer anymore than he needs. We fit perfectly into each other, it felt like we were molded into one another, it felt like home. I'm finally home in the arms of a man I can trust and…love. 

I looked up at him and gave his cheek a kiss. I was going to kiss his lips but decided to pull a Caius in this situation with a simple “Com tempo”. He smiled lazily at me at the sudden realization that I used the same two words he said to me a while back. 

“I'm willing to go into this bond fully, no more avoiding you because that only causes more harm for us. I don't want to be separated from you either because with all honesty the moment I saw your eyes I was enchanted by you, for a moment I saw a whole future with you and even though I was recoiling from you after each encounter with you, I couldn't help but fall for you a bit each time. Even that kiss made my stomach weirdly flip” 

He caressed my cheek with his thumb while his other arm was wrapped snugly around my waist as we was listening to me. Whereas my hands rested on his chest, I was trying very hard not to look at his exposed chest and or his collarbone, because even this small exposure of skin looked like art. 

“I vow to never become one of those filthy sorry excuses of men, if I could I would hunt them down one by one and drain them completely. No one will harm you, I would certainly never dream of creating such misery for you. But why don't we take some time to spend together and just get everything out. Hmm?”

“I would love that Caius”

He leaned in to give my forehead a tenderful kiss that would have woken Sleeping Beauty herself up. 

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Epilogue 

‘Dear Carlisle, 

As I write to you, me and Caius have come to be in a better position. We are spending more time together and we have brought up any miscommunication we failed to address from the beginning and solved them up one by one. We are at a point where I feel like we have known each other since the beginning of time. I never felt more at home since before mother passed. Caius really is my other half, we even spend hours in his art room, drawing whatever. He tends to create masterpieces of me being his muse. I even included a painting to this package I am sending of the painting I did from my garden here in Volterra.

I feel more comfortable around the others even, that ick I would tell you about is finally gone and I could spend hours with the guards who I have grown close to. I can never forget to tell you how whenever I talk to Marcus, I see a piece of you in him, I miss you so much but this is the closest I have to having you near me. I hope you and Esme plus the kids are doing well enough. Maybe soon enough we'll see each other, and tell Alice I forgive her, I now know her true intentions and I thank her”

Love y/n”

As Carlisle finished reading out loud the letter to Esme he smiled at the part of seeing his sister soon. But he did not forget to mention to Esme a ‘Finally” after realizing his sister is finally happy with her mate.