#farrell!penguin

[k1cha1nz]

He’s not very photogenic

[hughjackmanlovr]

idgaf what yall say i’d let him hit it…

[crazyeeeeeee]

[yanderemystic]

⋆˚࿔ৎ⪩ Yandere Oswald Cobb Headcanons

— Oswalds traits: Manipulative, clingy, impulsive.

Oswald is pretty clear with his intentions. If he wants it, regardless of the so-called value, he’s going to get it somehow and someway. That comes with the same price as you.

Impression is always his go-to. With that and his high interest, these two combined can become quite a mess. He tries greatly to reel you in with his wooing—using every romantic strategy he knows from his heart to get your attention. He goes all the way to town, like gifting you very expensive items to hint that he can care for you. Giving you a few thousand when dropping you off at your apartment, or even offering to pay for it.

His favorite thing is taking you out to nice restaurants in Gotham, showing you off with your gleaming outfits that he’s gifted you himself. He’s a known gentleman, always putting your necklaces or rings on–even earrings if you want him to. Everything you could want is gifted from him.

Apologetically pushy. From the moment he’s met you, he's always wanted to be in your personal space. Calling you constantly. Always finding excuses to visit your apartment, even at late nights, showing up with takeout and shoving himself through the door before you can fully open it; that glimmering smirk of his, as he rambles and calls you his sweet doll.

Oz doesn’t mean too, truly, but he’s gotta know every detail in your life—admiring those picture frames you have, to the specific color you use, maybe makeup or even your own bedroom which you have decorated to express what you like. Maybe, if he finds a diary, if he is lucky enough, he knows damn well it’s coming with him. He can always say he found it. Pretended to never read it, right?

Your parents will most definitely approve of him. It’s a dream come true, a gentleman in this century? What a lucky dream. Though, if your relationship isn’t as strong as between him and his ma, he’s always willing to share her with you. Share sweet memories, even.

With each piece of newfound information with you, he really begins to get nosy with you. He doesn’t mean to press his nose into where it doesn’t belong, but he has to know what you are doing. To know what restaurant you are at with some friends, what times you get home, who you were hanging out with, and when you left. If you hide something from him, he will know about it.

A worry freak. If you don’t message him back within a few hours, he begins to panic. Watches your conversations like a hawk, waiting for the bubble to rise. If he doesn’t see it, he rushes to your apartment like a mad man. When all is good, and you are fine, he gets irritated—why can’t you just message him back with ‘i love you too’?

He makes it clear that he is obsessed with you—his hands keep near you like second skin. If you decide to go with him to the club, or to a nice place where there are a lot of people, he’d love for you to sit on his lap. A hand on your waist, squeezing every once a while. His pinky accidentally swiping over your thigh. His lips chasing down your shoulders, kissing your revealed skin.

I had such fun writing this. Please enjoy it as much as I did! Requests are open so please come and send em in •‿• !!

[whooambouttamakeanameformyself]

Imagine...

Imagine Oswald buying you a ring just like his....

Warnings: Nothin' but fluff :)

(This is Gender neutral!)

~~~🐧~~~

Sitting in Oswald's office alone would be nerve wracking to anyone else, but to you, this office is like a second home. Normally you'd be sitting with Oz or on his lap, but he wasn't there at the moment so you were sat on the second couch in the corner of his office. You were about to look down at your phone to check the time, but before you could you heard Oswald's footsteps coming up the stairs. As soon as he entered the office he smiled at you, a smile which you returned without hesitation.

"Gotcha somethin', sweetheart." He said in that rough voice you loved so much. You tilted your head. "But, I didn't ask for anything?" You said in a soft voice. Of course Oswald would give you anything you wanted, though you were very careful with what you told him you wanted because you knew he'd have it waiting for you in his office the next day.

"I know ya didn't, but I think you'll love it." He responded with a sly smile as he pulled a small black leather box from his coat pocket. Of course you panicked for a second before he let out a soft chuckle. "It's not whatcha think, I promise." That eased your nerves quite a bit, but you still weren't sure what he was doing. He handed you the box, watching you as you carefully opened it with shaking hands.

Inside the box was a ring that looked just like one of the rings he always wore... The ring you always complimented him on, the ring you always fidgeted with when you held his hand, the ring you told him you loved because it suited him perfectly. The ring in the box looked just like it but smaller so it could fit you and look good. You looked up to see him smiling. "Well? Whatcha think, sweetheart?" You gave him another smile. "I love it..." And you were telling the truth, this was the most thoughtful gift he'd gotten you yet.

Oswald carefully took the ring from the box. "Gimme ya left hand, sweetheart." A request that you gladly obliged, holding out your left hand. He gently took your hand in his (the size difference evident now). After sliding the ring onto your middle finger, the same finger he wore his on, he placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "Looks good on you, sweetheart." He commented. "Thank you, Ozzie." You smiled more as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug that was quickly returned by the king pin. You didn't think you could love this man any more than you already do, but every day he finds a new way to prove you wrong.

~~~🐧~~~

I know it's short and probably not that good, but I really wanted to write some for Farrell!Penguin, and what a better way to start with some feel good fluff! 🐧🐧

(Edit to insert a photo of the ring in question.)

[ozs-twink-boytoy]

I would like to formally apologize to all the mafia husband au girlies on tiktok now that I have Oz Cobb, I wasn't familiar with yall's game

[kmrougeposting]

my favorite subgenre of Penguin on-set pics

[misterfic]

A/N: I still don't know why I wrote this.

Title: The Penguin’s Prey

Summary: In the dark underbelly of Gotham, Oswald Cobblepot manipulates his power to break the one person who can serve as his trophy—Falcone’s daughter.

Pairing: Farrel!Penguin × Fem!Reader

Tags: Non-consensual Touching

_________________________

You trembled slightly, your back pressed against the cold, damp wall, knees drawn up as you stared at the man standing before you. Oswald Cobblepot—The Penguin. His name carried weight in Gotham’s underworld, but now, seeing him up close, the true menace behind his twisted smile was palpable. His scarred face, hardened by years of brutality, twisted into a smirk as he studied you. He waddled closer, his gait uneven but deliberate, each step resonating with the sickening realization that this man was capable of anything.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Oswald’s gravelly voice cut through the silence, laced with dark amusement. His eyes glinted as they traveled down your trembling form, noting your fear, savoring it. "Carmine Falcone's little girl. What a stroke of bad luck, huh?" He chuckled, but there was no warmth in the sound, only cold, sharp edges.

Your heart raced, the name of your father—the once untouchable crime lord of Gotham—now a curse. Ever since Falcone’s downfall, the power vacuum had turned the city into a battlefield, and you were caught in the crossfire. Oswald was determined to rise to the top, and being Falcone’s daughter put you directly in his path.

"Please," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you knew pleading wouldn’t get you far. Not with him. "I didn’t do anything."

Oswald crouched down in front of you, his dark eyes never leaving yours. His hand reached out, a gloved finger trailing along your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, sweetheart, I know you didn’t. But you see, this isn’t about what you’ve done." His voice was low, dangerously soft. "It’s about who you are. Carmine’s precious daughter. That alone makes you valuable. And I always knew one day I’d get my hands on something he cared about."

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as his finger slid down your neck, a sickening sensation crawling over your skin. "You don’t have to do this," you breathed, trying to keep your voice steady, but the tremble was undeniable.

Oswald laughed softly, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your skin as he whispered, "Oh, but I do. You see, in this city, people only remember the strong, the ruthless. I’m going to show Gotham that the Penguin doesn’t just take what he wants—he takes everything."

Your breath hitched as his hand moved lower, his fingers grazing your collarbone before sliding down to the neckline of your dress. The darkness in his gaze deepened, and you felt a wave of panic wash over you. He was playing with you, relishing your fear, feeding off the power he held over you.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with twisted admiration. "Scared, trembling… but still so fucking beautiful. It’s almost a shame, really." His thumb brushed over the curve of your breast, and you flinched, unable to stop the tears from welling in your eyes.

Oswald grinned, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Your father… he always had everything handed to him. Power, respect, fear… women. But me? I had to earn it. Crawl through the dirt, claw my way to the top. And now, I get to enjoy the spoils."

His hand tightened on your thigh, fingers digging into your skin as he leaned in, his breath hot against your neck. "I bet Carmine never thought it would come to this, did he? His little girl, all alone with the Penguin." He chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing your earlobe, sending a jolt of fear through your body.

You squeezed your eyes shut, desperately trying to block out the sensation, but Oswald wasn’t going to let you forget. "Oh no, don’t close your eyes, sweetheart," he growled, his hand moving higher up your leg. "I want you to see who has the power now."

You whimpered softly, your body trembling uncontrollably, but you forced your eyes open, meeting his dark, predatory gaze. "Good girl," he purred, his hand inching higher, teasing the hem of your dress. "Now, let’s see just how much power I can take from you."

You could feel the darkness closing in, the walls of Gotham’s underworld tightening around you as you realized there was no escaping this nightmare. Oswald Cobblepot had you exactly where he wanted you—powerless, vulnerable, and at his mercy.

[hazyhalloweenz]

dude oz doesnt have his gold teeth in episode 4 before sofia went away... girly what happened after she went away tf did falcone do to my wife :[

[wil4x]

I haven't seen a lot of people mention it, but I love that The Batman's Penguin wears a leg brace. It's one of the best new additions to the character, in my opinion

[gilverrwrites]

Hello, dear! Could you please write something about 2022 Oz with a reader who is insecure about her torso and often chooses to keep her shirt on when they are being intimate? She is particularly shy about her breasts (I don't know if you need this information, but they are kinda large and she doesn't like the shape of them). Doesn't have to be smut, just fluffy comfort! Thank you so much and no pressure at all! ♥️

The Gift

2022!Penguin/Fem!Reader ≈800 words

AN: Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy the fic, and have a wonderful rest of your day. ♥️

Oz comforts you have you confide him that you don't like the most recent gift he bought you. Rated: M

CWs: Body dysmorphia, petnames: doll, implied sexual relationship.

Please remember: You are beautiful, as you are.

The fabric is unbelievably soft between your fingers. A deep regal purple with fine black embroidery, a cute heart-shaped gem set in gold dangles from the cleavage of the bra. It was such a beautiful set, and Oz had looked so chuffed when you’d opened it. So excited to see you in his gift. 

But as you sat at your vanity, preparing for your celebratory night, you just couldn’t bring yourself to put it on. Couldn’t bear the idea of how you would look in it, so exposed. Underwear this delicate wasn’t meant for bodies like yours, at least in your opinion. 

The worst part was knowing Ozzie was waiting for you, eager for a glimpse, and he’d be disappointed either by your refusal to wear it or by the unsightly image he’d have to look at if you did. 

So wrapped in your thoughts, you don’t notice Ozwald entering or the sound of his uneven footsteps, not until you catch the sight of him in the mirror’s reflection. 

“What’s wrong doll?” He asked, concern furrowing his brow. His eyes scan your face before falling to the lingerie clutched in your hands. “You don’t like my gift?” 

“No, I do, they’re beautiful.” You reassure him, you’d always admired his taste. But… “I just don’t think I can wear it.”

“Why not?” He squints his eyes and tilts his head, puzzled, but laughing, trying to lighten the tense mood. “Did I get the wrong size or somethin’?” 

“Not it’s not that either.” You look down, unable to face him, unsure how to approach the conversation from here. The sight of the underwear isn’t helping, so gently place it back in the gift bag. 

“Then what is it?” He leans down, baring his weight on your shoulder for support as he places a kiss to the back of your head. Trying to comfort you as best he can without knowing what is wrong. “Don’t keep me in the dark here, you got me worryin’.” 

“I just…” You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for your confession. It’s hard; to admit your insecurities aloud, especially knowing you’re likely to disappoint Oz in the process. But the alternative feels impossible. “It’ll show too much, I know I won’t feel good in it.” 

“Is that it? That’s why you never wanna take your clothes off when we’re doin' it?” He shakes his head, dismissively, more to himself than you. With a sigh he turns from you, making his way over to the bed. Seated, with the pressure off his bad leg, he looks relieved, until he looks at you. His face turns sombre. He purses his lips, mulling over what he’ll say next. “Look, I ain’t exactly one to judge, you know?” 

He gestures to his scarred lip before patting his plump belly. You hate the implication, that he might be lesser because of his weight, or his scars. Hypocritical, as is human nature. You open your mouth to object, but he stops you, holding his hand up briefly as he begins to talk. 

“I ain’t done. This ain’t about me.” He has a knack for commandeering a conversation without making you feel small or unheard. “If it isn’t obvious, I think you’re beautiful, all of you, flaws an everythin’.” 

He gestures towards you, finally offering you a smile. Your body grows warm, you can’t help but smile, after all this time he still makes you feel coy under his gaze. His words won't heal everything, but they make you feel at ease in the moment. 

“Come sit with me.” He pats his good leg, and you make your way over, wrapping your arms around his neck as you settle on his thigh. A strong hand settles in the curve of your back, keeping you up straight. 

“I didn’t pick those out 'cause I thought they’d make you look good; I think you look good all the time.” Up close you can feel the warmth of his brandy steeped breath on your neck, he presses a kiss to your skin before placing his free hand under your chin, directing you to look at him as he continues. “Drives me crazy, tryin’ to get work done and you’re just there, lookin’ like sex on legs no matter what you’re wearin’.” 

“But if it means that much to ya, we can take ‘em back, you can pick out somethin’ that makes you feel your best.” He leans in, pressing a greedy kiss to your lips. You sigh into him, embracing the familiar feel and taste of him as he slips his hand up to your cheek, using it to guide your face closer. When you eventually pull away, he runs the back of a thick, ringed finger against your skin and asks; “How does that sound?” 

Request Info || Masterlist || Ko-Fi 

[k1cha1nz]

im going crazy they’re so fun to draw.

[riddledwithrats]

In The Midnight Hour

Chapter Four: And It Feels Like Home

>chapters one, two, three

Summary: Reader is taken to Falcone's office and beaten within an inch of her life.

Words: 1,808 (kinda short but I wanted to give y’all at least a little bit! one more chapter left :))

Warnings: kidnapping, extreme violence, death threats, major character death, degradation, religious imagery, hurt/comfort (18+)

“I thought you made a deal, boss?”

Voices ring in your ears and blood drips out of your nose and mouth. There’s no light and you can’t tell if it’s because the room is dark or if your eyes are shut.

“I only made that deal to placate Oz, he’s a fuckin’ schmuck if he thinks I’m just gonna let her go.”

You groan and try to roll over but your arm shoots out in pain, and a squeal of agony wretches its way through your throat. You’re too delirious to recognize the voices, your ears sound all fuzzy and you can’t see anything.

Tears begin to roll down your face as you gently prod at your eyes, they’re almost fully swollen shut. Someone has been wailing on you for a very long time it seems.

“Oh, look. The bitch is awake!” A rough voice says near you, it only gets closer. You can feel the wretched breath on your neck, it reeks of whiskey and tequila. A delicate touch follows the trail of your tears, slowly beginning to scratch the tip of their nail into your skin.

You cry out in pain, your eyes beginning to open just slightly. A sliver of light blinds you, and Falcone's face comes into view. His face is deep red, he’s seething as he stares daggers into you.

“How fucking could you?” You begin to shake and whimper as he grabs you roughly by the shoulders. His grip is excruciating, you can feel bruises forming already. “You let him fucking slobber all over you like a dog, you WHORE. DID YOU THINK I WOULDN’T FIND OUT?”

You can’t think, all you can do is scream, cry, and whimper. He begins to laugh at you.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it, angel.” He leans back a little, sitting on his knees beside your trembling form. “He’s fucking incompetent, he’s an idiot for Christ's sake! What does he got that I don’t, baby?”

Falcone grabs you by the throat and makes you look him in the eyes. He’s waiting for an answer, squeezing your windpipe periodically.

“I said, what does he got that I DON’T?” Falcone shouts and it makes your ears ring. Your mouth is dry and you can barely form words in your head but you mutter an answer out anyways.

“A heart.” Your throat begins to feel like it’s closing.

He doesn’t seem to enjoy this answer.

He grabs you by the sides of your head and begins slamming your head down onto the floor. You can’t stop screaming. Everything begins to go by in slow motion.

The air flows around you like nothing is happening, the sun shines into the office. It bounces orange and yellow light all around you, it looks so beautiful.

Stars begin to form in your sight, you can’t hear anything and you can barely focus your eyes but Falcone hasn’t let up. You feel so helpless. His hands make their way back to your throat, he pushes his thumbs into the front of your esophagus, and it burns. Your lungs feel like they’ve callapsed, your vision is even blurrier than before and you’re sure you’ve lost more than a few brain cells at this point. All you can see is the rage in his eyes.

The elevator door dings.

“CARMINE.”

Oz steps in, he’s fuming. There’s a gun in his hand. Falcone only stops once he hears Oz’s booming voice and his brace clinking against the floor. He looks up at him in awe.

Oz looks ethereal. The sun shines down on him like a halo.

A vague idea enters your head. Your gaze flickers to Falcone; Adam. To the gun; The Apple.

And finally, to Oz. A great, big, powerful Serpent.

A loud bang echoes through the office. A heavy weight falls onto your chest, and slickness splatters onto your face. Your heart is beating so fast, you’re finally free.

Your eyes fall shut and you can’t open them anymore.

Waking up in a hospital is jarring, specifically because you hadn’t expected to wake up at all. But the sterile white walls, the linen covers, and the fluorescent lights weren’t entirely unwelcome.

There’s a brace on your arm and on one of your knees, but you don’t feel any pain. You look at your injuries in confusion, why didn’t they hurt?

“They’ve got you on a lot of painkillers, sweetheart.” The rumbling voice cracks as it speaks. You look over to your left, Oz is sitting in a chair that looks much too small for him. There’s a pillow and a blanket next to him, as well as a cup of water and some magazines. He looks tired like he hasn’t taken his eyes off you in days. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna wake up, doll.”

Oz begins to choke up, he looks ecstatic that you’re awake but he just can’t stop crying. You don’t remember much of what happened. All you can remember is the pain… and the sun.

You don’t see the sun now though, it looks to be pitch black outside, like it’s the middle of the night. Oz reaches a hand out towards yours, he holds your hand gently.

“I-I’ll call the nurse, sweetheart.” He stands up and presses a button next to your bed.

“Did you kill him, Oz?” You ask as he freezes in place, hand still hovering to your side. He looks at you, visibly stiff like he wasn’t prepared for the question but simultaneously like he knew you were going to ask it from the moment you woke up.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, I did.”

He sits back down and waits for your reply, watching every tiny twitch of your face to gauge your reaction.

“Good.” You whisper out, eyes closed and leaning back into the barely-comforting cushion of the hospital bed. It feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, you feel light and free like every chain that had been holding you down finally snapped.

He snorts out a small laugh, but when you sneak a look at him he looks incredibly solemn. You’re sure there’s a lot of stuff that has unraveled, or been brought up, because of his killing Falcone. The foundation of his business has become shaky and fragile, plenty of people are going to try and make a feeble attempt at the newly opened job position.

But none of them will be nearly as fast as Oz.

“Oz?” You call out to him softly, watching as his dejected eyes raise to meet yours. A fire burns in the pit of your stomach, a sense of pride and determination flares within your chest. You take a deep breath and look him, deathly serious, in the eye. “This city is yours now. No one can take it from you.”

Oz sits up at attention, he looks at you bewildered. He secretly shudders at the realization that you definitely just read his mind. He tries to gain his composure, sending a cheeky, almost shy, smile your way as he rubs the back of his neck.

“I wish it was that easy, sweetheart.” He chuckles dryly, but stops abruptly at the resolute look in your eyes. You’re not trying to reassure him… You’re stating a fact. One that seems to be very near and dear to your heart. Oz sighs, looking at you softly.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

A few seconds go by of you both staring deep into each others eyes, before Oz comes back to reality. Just as he opens his mouth to say something else, the door handle jiggles slowly before a young women enters.

She’s dressed head to toe in purple scrubs and it makes you squint a little at the vibrant color. She says something in greeting but you don’t hear much of it, tuning out very fast as she does a routine check of your health. Asking you basic questions.

Apparently, you had been unconscious for around three days but they had kept a vigilant eye on you, and reassured Oz that you would be awake in no time. Oz had also kept a vigilant eye on you, the nurse says this after he leaves the room to fetch you something to eat.

“What?” You ask quietly, looking at her quizzically. You’re sure there’s much more important things he could’ve been doing, but the blanket, paper cup of water, and discarded coat where Oz was sitting tells a different story.

“Yeah, he barely left your side. Only really left to go the bathroom and begrudgingly get food at the insistence of myself.” She giggles a little, not noticing the expression on your face.

“Oh.”

She leaves a little while after that, only really making small chit chat after she’s assessed that you’re in fairly good shape considering the circumstances.

Of course he would stay, you think. It would be out of character for him to just leave you, a crumpled heap of a person on the floor. Although he had wanted to kill Carmine for a very long time, there was very little chance he would ever do it if Falcone hadn’t tried what he had.

The thought of Oz wanting to save you makes you blush, the heat in your face doesn’t seem to go away even as Oz enters the room with some food for you and himself.

He smiles at you, not a smirk but a real, true smile. He brandishes the plain hospital food for you to see, and your heart beats rapidly in your chest.

“The nurse said you could be discharged from the hospital today, doll.” He says as he sits down in the chair beside your bed. He hands you something to eat, before relaxing into the chair. “And uh, well… I was wondering if you’d come stay with me for a while, sugar.”

That takes you back a little.

“What? Why, Oz?” You ask in confusion.

“Well, I don’t mean this in a rude way, doll, but I feel like every time I take my eyes off you, you get the shit beaten out of you.” Oz chuckles dryly, but he looks nervous. “I just, I worry about you, y’know? Don’t want you to get hurt no more, especially if it’s because of me.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Oz…”

He doesn’t look convinced, but before he can argue the nurse comes back in. She looks shy and apologetic for interrupting, but she steps further into the room anyways.

“Your paperwork is all finished, you’re free to leave.” She says with a gentle smile, and as Oz and yourself nod she walks back out swiftly.

Oz looks at you, he seems to be thinking very deeply before he says:

“C’mon, doll, let’s get going.” He stands up and helps you get ready to leave.

[crazyeeeeeee]

[dontbadgerme2233]

oz is a quirky teenage girl stuck in an organised criminal's body

[tirnalilc]

Oz Cobb x falcone daughter reader.

contains spoilers for the last chapter.

English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes :(.

I hate Oz, but that hate make me write this.

I love you; i'm sorry.

A tired sigh left her lips. She felt all her bones ache as she walked looking for her husband and Vic. She smiled just thinking about them. Vic had won her heart in so many ways. Victor would be someone powerful in the future, and she would be there to support him along with Oz. 

She saw them in the distance talking; she quickened her pace so she could join in the conversation, only to stop moments later; her whole body paralyzed, even stopping breathing for a few seconds as she witnessed what was happening in front of her. Her heart was begging to stop Oz from what he was doing, but her mind assured her there was a reason behind it. 

Seeing Oz kill Victor with his bare hands left her vulnerable. She turned her back to them as she put a hand to her mouth, covering her sobs. She cried silently until she stopped hearing Vic struggle. She heard the body falling to the ground and tried to wipe her tears quickly as she turned around. She saw Oswald going through Vic's wallet, throwing away his ID, and pulling out the money he had. 

Her husband's eyes met hers as she walked over to them.  

"May I say a final goodbye?" She asked in a whisper, and felt the tears forming in her eyes again. 

Oswald looked at him for a few seconds before nodding. 

"Sure, doll, but make it quick." 

She reached down, caressing Vic's face, lovingly and sadly. She rested her forehead with his.

"In another life you will not have this fate; I hope your family waited for you." 

She kissed his cheek, not caring about getting it wet with her tears. She looked up to see Oswald offering her his hand; she took it with a slight tremor. She looked for the last time at the young man who brought smiles to her face when she was sad, the young man who always helped her reconcile with Oswald, the young man who had so much to live for but got involved with the wrong people. 

They began to walk away, but without seeing him one last time, she sighed heavily, knowing that this was only the beginning with the new ruler of Gotham.  

Victor's death created a before and after; she squeezed Oz's hand tightly and looked at him. 

"He did something wrong, right?" 

"Yes, doll, he couldn't come with us this time." 

And she believed him. Victor earned a place in her heart, but Oz had a bigger place and always will.

At that moment she remembered his father's words.

"Some people were not born for this life, others were always destined and only one wins the power."

As they walk away a proud smile appears on her face, her husband won that power.

tirnalilc.