mc

The prospect of you being around more often makes him giddy but you meeting his family makes him a little nervous. 

They are going to love you, he knows because Dick loves you. The problem was that he would most likely never have alone time with you ever again. 

"I will let them know about us while you are gone so they can be eased into it." Dick decides aloud. 

You give him a smile that makes him feel like he just won the lottery, "I am excited to meet them and the other Lanterns probably want to give you a shovel talk, especially Guy and Hal."

Dick can't help but roll his eyes at that, "They can't scare me, I'm not even scared of Batman."

"Maybe but they feel the need to so don't laugh at them too hard." You laugh and kiss his cheek.

Once you have left with the rest of the lanterns, and Hal and Guy have threatened him sufficiently, he decides to begin the process of telling his family. 

Dick tells Bruce first, knowing his mentor would appreciate not being kept in the dark. He stays behind one night after patrol when everyone else is gone. Bruce calls him out on his constant fidgiting and Dick tells him the truth.

He gets a hum in response. Usually it would be a grunt of acknowledgement or something like that but instead he gets a hum that sounds extremely skeptical. 

Dick narrows his eyes at him and doesn't call him out on it, just files it away for later.

One by one he pulls his family aside to tell them about you and each time he is either looked at with confusion or, in Jason's case, laughed at hysterically for ten minutes. 

He doesn't know what is going on. Are they collectively pranking him? Have they all gone insane? Has he gone insane? 

You are still off world so he feels particularly down as he stands on a rooftop over looking Gotham. He feels terribly like Bruce as he broods while the city moves below him. 

"Nightwing." Bruce greets as he lands on the rooftop, followed by Jason and Damian.

Jason gives him a two fingered salute while Damian nods in his direction. 

"Batman, Red Hood, Robin." Dick greets. "What do you need from me?"

"We need your help on a case-" Bruce starts and Dick immediately crosses over to their side of the roof, ready to help.

Bruce goes to continue talking but a bright streak of pink light illuminates the night sky. 

Dick is almost knocked over by how fast you hug him, it knocks some of the air out of his lungs. As soon as he registers what is happening he hugs you back.

"Baby!" You float a little off the ground as you hold him. "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you to." Dick says with a soft smile.

You release him and he remembers that Bruce, Damian and Jason are still there. 

Dick's smile turns to a self satisfied smirk. 

"This is my partner." He looks smug as they all are in various states of shock.

"Hi!" You wave cheerfully at them, unaware of his uphill battle of getting his family to believe him.

"I thought you made it up Richard," Damian regains his ability to speak first. "She is very out of your league."

Dick groans in frustration while you hold back laughter. 

He wishes he never told his family about you.

"They despise each other." Tim reminds for the fifth time.

"I am aware.” Dick mutters, thumb scrolling through his contacts list. "What did I say about hacking my contacts list, Best Robin?"

"You didn't say anything about that specifically." Tim's foot taps impatiently against the tiles. “And why'd you think that contact name was meant for the demon spawn—never mind, that's besides the point right now. She's clearly disoriented.”

“I just have a gut feeling.” Pressing the phone against his ear, Dick runs a habitual tug over his locks whenever another situation pops up that he has to solve. Being in this line of work is bound to give him early greys.

"A gut feeling." Tim huffs, shaking his head in disagreement. “We better hope this doesn’t start another scuffle. Wouldn't want to toss another bone to the press. 'Blood son of Bruce Wayne attacks hospital patient'. I can already smell the print.”

Dick's frown sticks as he eyes you through the open door frame, laying in a hospital bed—unconscious ever since your first waking. The dots aren't connecting, not when the soot from the explosion still singes the edges of his jacket and his mind is all fuzzed up from a lack of sleep and endless documents. Still, the world had a knack for surprising him whenever he least expects it.

The ringing on the other side stops after two seconds.

"Damian." Dick addresses, re-running his fingers habitually through his hair. "There's been a situation at the hospital..."

Here's the thing, Dick knows Damian. He understands the trait of impatience passed along their family, which is why he's already summarised the facts down to twenty seconds. The call abruptly ends at ten.

"Huh." Dick mutters, brows pressed together as he looks back to Tim. "He hung up."

Dick had barely made it beyond the mention of your name and their current location. Your voice echoes in reminder as he stares at his screen, the duration of the call staring back at him. It's him you have to worry about.

Damian's anything but subtle. Of his frigid attitude—his blatant dislike towards you. Putting the two of you in the same room, it was guaranteed disaster. Yet, Damian was the first name out of your mouth.

"Told you it doesn't make sense." Tim shrugs. "Logically, he's the last person we should've called."

"We'll see." Dick answers, head leaning back to rest against the wall. "He's surprised us both plenty of times."

"Yeah, by attempting murder on us both. Your point being?"

Dick restrains a much-needed sigh.

Barely fifteen minutes later, Dick stirs at a loud commotion beyond the walls of the waiting room. His neck is cramping from this unergonomic chair, and his feet are nerved with pins-and-needles. Tim's ears are plugged in with wired earphones, jammed high with Green Day as he concentrates on his tablet, opting to work through his insomnia instead.

There’s a slamming of doors, rapid footsteps thundering against the tiles, coming closer and closer. Dick barely has time to nudge Tim’s shoulder before the hallway door slams open.

Damian comes through like a storm, movements overly controlled in the way a person would seize up before a fight. As if he's expected the worst, and is prepared to battle whatever he might encounter—in a hospital.

“Where is she?” Damian commands, voice echoing off the tiles.

Staring back at Dick are frantic, darkened eyes pinpointed on locked targets—searching for his answer. It's so abruptly intense, almost inhuman, that his mind stutters in regaining its grasp on reality. He hasn't seen that look in a long time, not since their first meeting where one wrong answer would make Damian your enemy.

“She’s asleep.” Tim answers for him, one side of his earphones still plugged in throughout this entire mess. “She needs the rest.”

Damian disregards his words, brushing past him. “I have to see her.”

Dick must’ve subconsciously shifted his glance to your room, towards the shine of the metal carvings of 78 placed in the centre. Damian's gaze follows, and he doesn’t spare a second of hesitation in heading towards the door.

Dick catches Damian's forearm right before he enters, and the glare he receives? Murderous. As if everything in his way of getting to you has become mere obstacles he has to overcome.

"Grayson." Damian's voice is all wrong, shortened and taut, syllables used to convey only what was needed. "Unhand. Me."

"Dames." Dick tries to make sense of this adverse reaction, but nothing from that brief phone call provided him any clues. "She's still unconscious, and I don't think it's a good idea for you to be in there—in this state."

Damian's chest heaves once, but the storm in his gaze has only darkened. "She called for me, didn't she?"

Dick blinks once. "Well, yes but—"

"Then I will be there for her."

Damian disarms his grip with an alarming quickness, and Dick doesn't even have time to recalibrate his mistake before he's slipped through.

Dick's palm splays onto the door right before it closes, pushing it fully open with a warning ready on his lips to not disturb your recovery, only to find that—Damian hadn’t moved from his spot since he entered. Dick feels Tim pressing into his side, curious eyes flickering at the situation, but Dick is too busy watching to care about how they're practically hanging onto the doorframe.

When Damian catches sight of you, his entire frame freezes into place. He's watching you, and Dick's watching him—and he sees it then, and realises what an idiot he's been.

Damian's entire expression immediately shifts. Loosening in relief at the sight of you mostly unharmed, at the sound of a calm beeping from the heart monitor. It's frighteningly out of place, the tenderness softening his wrath-like panic mere seconds ago. He moves almost mindlessly towards your side, forgetting the presence of his two brothers gawking at him from outside the doorframe, peering into what must be a fever dream.

"Idiot." Damian mutters, but it sounds more like a prayer answered.

"We've got it all wrong, didn't we?" Tim mutters, staring at the sight in awe.

"Told you." Dick whispers, his lips tilting upwards into a smile. "Gut feeling."

You stir not long after Damian’s arrival, as if your body is already attuned to his presence. Lids peering half-open, you squint at the shadow towering over you. For a moment, there was nothing but held breaths and a long pause as you familiarise yourself with forest green.

Then, the most miraculous thing happens. You smile, completely unaware of the turmoil and confusion you've caused.

“Dami.”

Dick decides today is an absolute possibility for the world to end.

“You're an idiot.” Damian hurls the practiced insult out like he’s been running it off in his mind for the past couple of minutes, but his weakened voice holds no bite in comparison to his overwhelming relief.

Under the sheets, Dick swears he sees his brother’s fingers intertwining with yours.

“I told them to tell you not to rush.” You mutter hazily, still readjusting to reality. “At least—I think I did.”

Damian sucks in a breath, low, undistinguishable mutters whispered. Your lip twitches up slightly, which could only mean another insult you're brushing off.

“Yet, you’re still here.” You tease. “Fretting.”

The thin line of his lips creases deeper. “I do not fret.”

“Arguing with the patient?” Your body shifts, tilting closer to Damian.

“I prefer arguing with you unharmed.” Damian mocks lowly. Dick sees the stiffness bleed out of Damian’s expression the longer his gaze is locked onto you, as if materialising your talkative state in his mind.

"I am unharmed."

"A mild concussion, a hospital bed." Damian's frown deepens. "At least attempt at a reasonable lie."

Damian’s body tilts just slightly, lowering to match yours, and the light catches your features once more. Your lips tilt downward for a single second, the sting of the fluorescent lights irritating your vision.

In a sudden movement without words exchanged, Damian adjusts. His shoulders block the light over your face once more, covering you with his shadow.

You can't help the grin that escapes. "That is what I was thinking about, before I passed out again."

Damian's expression contorts, as if his mind can't decide on hyper-focusing on the details of you falling unconscious again or on what you were imagining about him. You decide for him.

"The lights were all in my face and—" You suck in a breath. "I kept trying to remember your name. I tried so hard to find it, this person who knows that I hate hospital lights without me needing to say it. Then, your name just slipped out."

“Oh.” Tim murmurs from afar.

“Oh.” Dick agrees.

“Don’t do that again.” Damian mutters in the quiet buzzing of the machines.

“Save people?” You tease.

“Put yourself in harm’s way.” Damian pushes back.

"Hey, what about the two of us?" Tim calls out, and Dick's quick to shove his elbow into the idiot's stomach. "Ow—what? We never got this treatment and all the fretting."

Damian's gaze shifts at the disruption, the softness creased into the corners of his eyes fading into annoyance. "Leave us."

"Woah." Tim holds a hand to his abdomen, still feigning hurt. "That's just cold."

Damian's eyes narrow further, and Dick's reminded instantly of how the press is probably waiting outside the hospital for any hints of a scuffle. It's already news enough for not two, but three members now of the Wayne family rushing to the emergency ward. Grabbing Tim by his hoodie, Dick tugs roughly. "We'll leave you two be to—catch up. No attempted murders, if the reminder's still needed."

It had slipped out so easily, the old warning, but it feels strangely out of place with this tender atmosphere. Dick's most definitely intruding on something he's not meant to see, but questions can be reserved for later.

Eyeing Damian one last time, he sees the way his brother's vision is trained on you—and he knows his job is done here.

You snort, a sheepish expression caught between your teeth, watching for confirmation as the door shuts with a click. When you have a shred of confidence that they're at least out of hearing range, you turn your attention back to Damian, unable to hide your grin.

“You know they’re probably freaking out right now?” You mutter conspiratorially. "They'll never buy into us hating each other anymore."

“That is not my concern.” Damian frowns. “You are.”

“That might be the sweetest thing you've ever told me.” You coo. "I matter enough for you to deal with family dinner interrogations now."

Damian's stare remains unimpressed. “I will smother you with pillows.”

“That’s unhygienic—and cruel.”

His tongue clicks softly as his hand comes up behind the pillow, instinctively propping them up higher as you adjust your neck, an action completely unrelated to his threat. “Only you would be concerned of bacteria before attempted murder.”

“Yeah, I’m a piece of work." You murmur distractedly, choosing to gaze intently at him instead. His hair's fallen into different directions, all un-Damian-like. "That’s why you rushed all the way here, didn’t you?”

He stiffens, hand shifting away from the pillow, but still hovering near you. He's been holding back from the moment he's entered this damned institution, and his mind is ticking, battling between his habit to be the steady one, and the crushing need to hold you.

After a moment, the inner workings of his mind switching between his logic and his emotions must've finally faltered, as his fingers delicately cup the back of your head. He doesn't move you towards him, choosing to come over to you instead, his body hovering halfway over yours before finally letting his weight topple gently over you.

His arms wrap around you gently as his comforting weight falls over you, and the first thing you feel is how quickly his heart is racing. He needs this, you realise, as he settles with his arms wrapped protectively around you. To be physically present as your shield, even when there is no danger present.

Damian is affected. More than he seems from his tightly concealed expressions, obvious now that you can physically feel the effects on his body. Slight twitches of his fingers that appear when he's still afraid, waiting for the noise in his head to calm down.

“I didn't want you to worry.” You mumble into his embrace.

“Impossible.” Damian huffs softly, tracing his other hand over your wrist, feeling the soft thudding of your pulse. “You're my problem to handle."

You feel a soft, imperceptible kiss pressed onto your temple, and your eyes flutter shut. This is the side of Damian only you get to have, the proof of its existence ghosting your skin. You have to force your eyes open, the lure of sleep already trying to dig its claws into you—and that's something you absolutely refuse. You don't want to miss this rare side to Damian, all soft and disarmed.

"You scared me." Damian admits after a long pause, barely audible.

You blink, surprised. "You're never scared."

"For you, I am." Damian confesses, his grip tightening slightly. "You tend to render me painfully exposed to weakness."

"Weakness, huh? Still haven't got rid of me though." You hum lightly.

"No." His tone is decisive, stern. "If I haven't decided that I've had enough of you, the world doesn't get to."

"I'm starting to think threats are your love language, Dami." Your hand lifts, struggling twice before you manage to run your fingers through his hair, resting its weight over the nape of his neck.

His body shudders slightly, and his nose buries itself deeper into the crook of your neck. If anyone were to look into hospital room 78, they'll encounter the strange sight of Damian Wayne embracing you as if you were his lifeline. No one would believe them, but the truth remains.

He was yours. Completely yours.

He was also definitely sentenced to a long interrogation the moment he steps out of this room.

"Who was the perpetrator?" He mutters after a moment.

"Damian." You're stuck deciding between a snort and a sigh. "It was an accident."

"You don't know that." He huffs. "I sincerely doubt in your ability to detect an attempted murder while you're unconscious."

Your grip tugs at his hair playfully, a pretty effective way of shutting him up. "Argue with me later."

You feel his lashes flutter against your skin, processing. "...Fine."

He breathes you in, his heart rate finally starting to calm the longer he hears your voice so close to his eardrums, your touch grounding his senses.

"It was torture." His voice is too still, stating the facts without the emotion that's driven behind them. "The drive here. I kept envisioning the worst, that you had called out for me—and if I didn't make it in time—"

His grip tightens with his words, and you're pressed into his chest, feeling what his words refuse to convey, starting to thud again below his ribcage.

"Damian." Your hand traces reassuringly over his neck. "I'm right here."

He listens, his rampant thoughts slowing in pace at the reminder. "I had never been so terrified." His voice remains level, his attempt at reinforcing his reality over his fears. "To receive a call from Grayson, hearing your name—I couldn't let myself think of anything else other than finding you."

"You did." You mutter reassuringly. "You found me. I'm safe."

He lets out a low breath, a slow exhale at the sound of those two words he'd been needing to hear. "Sometimes, I think you've ruined me." He murmurs in truth.

You think he's unused to this. Letting down his walls, experiencing the blatant terror for another person's life that is completely out of his control—that he's left with nothing but pieces to readjust, to compromise. By letting you into his life and allowing you to be his person, he has abandoned his need to preserve himself, to be above fear.

"You're not escaping the argument." He notes down distractedly, trying to regain his ground despite being wrapped into you. "I still have my reservations."

"Anything you need, Dami." You reassure softly.

"Anything?" He murmurs, head shifting out of the crook of your neck to face you fully.

His green eyes are narrowed with intent now, gazing at you with unhidden intensity.

You swallow, nodding slightly.

When he leans in, the palm of his hand slips from the back of your head to over your jaw. His thumb traces over your lips softly as he leans in, replacing the ghost of his touch with his own mouth. It's tender, a separate language to convey the emotions he hasn't learnt to spell out, on what you do to him. Yet, with the way he's handling you, nose brushing against yours, in a way so precious it makes your heart ache—you think that impending argument's worth it.

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dc masterlist -> damian + other dc works

because yukimiya isn’t just good-looking – he’s aware of it. not in an arrogant way, not in that loud, look-at-me kind of confidence. it’s quieter than that. controlled. like he knows exactly what he looks like from every angle and has already made peace with it. 

you, on the other hand, are actively trying not to look at your own reflection in the spoon. 

“your turn,” he says, sliding his phone slightly toward you. 

you laugh immediately, shaking your head. “no thank you.” 

he raises a brow, amused. “not even one?” 

“i’ll take one of you,” you offer quickly, already reaching for your own phone like a defense mechanism. “that’s the deal.” 

his smile widens – he knows you’re deflecting – but he lets you. 

and of course, when you point the camera at him, he doesn’t even need a second. 

his elbow rests casually on the table, fingers brushing against his cheek. his gaze shifts – not directly at the lens, but slightly off, like he’s caught in a candid moment. soft, distant, perfect. 

you squint at your screen. “that’s so unfair…” you mutter, snapping the picture anyway. 

“what is?” he asks. 

“you didn’t even try.” 

“i did,” he says lightly. “you just didn’t see it.” 

you huff, lowering your phone and glancing at the photo again. it looks like something straight out of a magazine. lighting, angles, expression – everything just works. 

you glance back up at him, then down at your own reflection in the black screen of your phone. 

“... i wish i was photogenic like that.” 

it slips out before you can stop it. 

there’s a pause. 

not an awkward one. just… a quiet shift in the air. 

yukimiya tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that feels a little too focused. too intentional. 

“it’s a mindset thing,” he says. 

and that’s it. no elaboration. no explanation. just that. 

you blink at him. “what does that even mean…?” 

he just smiles again, like he’s keeping something to himself. “you’ll figure it out.” 

you narrow your eyes at him, unconvinced. “that’s not helpful.” 

“mm,” he hums, taking a sip of his drink. “i think it is.” 

you decide he’s being annoying on purpose. 

the rest of the date unfolds the way it always does with him – easy, warm, full of small moments that don’t feel small at all. 

you walk through little shops, pointing out things that catch your eye. you drag him into places he definitely wouldn’t have entered on his own, and he follows without complaint, hands tucked in his pockets, watching you more than anything else. 

you don’t notice when he pulls out his phone again. 

or the way he angles it slightly– 

click. 

you’re standing in front of a display, head tilted as you examine something. your expression is thoughtful, a little scrunched, completely unaware. 

in the photo, you look… soft. real. beautiful in a way that isn’t trying to be. 

yukimiya stares at the screen for a second longer than necessary. his thumb hovers, then taps the screen gently, like he’s committing the moment to memory twice. 

later, you’re outside, sunlight catching in your hair as you laugh at something he says. you lean forward slightly, hand covering your mouth, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

click. 

this one hits him a little harder. 

because it’s not just how you look – it’s how you feel. 

how easy you are. how warm. how, somehow, every expression you make feels like something he wants to keep forever. 

he exhales quietly, locking his phone before you can notice. 

“wait,” you say suddenly, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “stand there.” 

he glances back at you, already amused. “another one?” 

“obviously.” 

you gesture vaguely. “the lighting is good. don’t waste it.” 

he chuckles, but he listens. 

then he shifts slightly, letting the sunlight hit just right, his shadow falling at the perfect angle. one hand slips into his pocket, the other brushing through his hair. 

you take the picture. 

and yeah. it’s perfect. again. 

you stare at it for a second, then groan softly. “this is actually ridiculous.” 

“what is?” 

“you,” you say, pointing at your phone. “how do you do that?” 

he steps closer, glancing at the photo. “do what?” 

“exist like a pinterest board,” you deadpan. 

he laughs, low and soft. “that’s a new one.” 

you hesitate for a second before adding, quieter this time, “i just… don’t look like that in pictures.” 

there’s that shift again. 

this time, he doesn’t brush it off. 

he looks at you, really looks at you, and for a moment, there’s something almost serious in his expression. 

“you don’t see yourself the way you actually are,” he says. 

you frown slightly. “and how is that?” 

he doesn’t answer right away. 

instead, his gaze flickers – just briefly – to your face. the way the sunlight hits your skin. the way your hair moves with the breeze. the way your expression holds a mix of curiosity and doubt. 

things he’s been noticing all day. things he’s been saving. 

“like someone who needs to try,” he says finally. “when you don’t.” 

you blink, caught off guard. 

“you think being photogenic is about angles and lighting,” he continues, voice calm, steady. “but it’s not. it’s about being comfortable existing as you are.” 

you look away slightly, your fingers tightening around your phone. “… that’s easier said than done.” 

“yeah,” he agrees easily. “it is.” 

and then, softer– 

“but you’re already doing it.” 

you glance back up at him. “i am?” 

he nods. 

and there’s something about the way he says it – so certain, so sure – that makes your chest feel a little tight. 

you don’t fully understand what he means. not yet. 

that night, after he walks you home, after the soft goodbyes and lingering glances, after you finally collapse onto your bed with your phone in hand, your messages buzz. 

yukimiya. 

you open it. and freeze. 

it’s a photo. not of him. of you. 

you’re mid-laugh, head tilted back slightly, eyes closed, sunlight wrapping around you like it belongs there. 

you don’t remember him taking it. 

before you can process that, another one comes in. 

you, standing in the flower shop. focused. soft. 

another. 

you, walking ahead of him, hair catching the light. 

another. 

you, looking at him. 

that one makes your breath hitch a little. 

because the way you’re looking at him in the photo, it’s gentle. it’s fond. it’s… something you didn’t realize was so obvious. 

your fingers hover over the screen. then his message comes through. 

“still think you’re not photogenic?” 

you stare at the photos again. really stare this time. not picking yourself apart. not searching for flaws. just… looking. 

and slowly, something shifts. because these don’t look like the versions of you you see in mirrors or front cameras or rushed selfies. they look like… moments. real ones. unfiltered. 

and somehow, in all of them – you don’t look like someone who needs to change. 

you look like someone who’s already enough. 

your chest feels warm. a little overwhelming. you type back, hesitating. 

“you’re biased.” 

his reply is immediate. 

“i’m in love with you. of course i am.” 

your heart stutters. 

before you can even recover– 

“but that doesn’t make me wrong.” 

you press your lips together, staring at the screen, then back at the photos. at yourself. at the version of you he sees so clearly. 

and for the first time, you don’t immediately look away. 

maybe… maybe it really is a mindset thing. 

and maybe, just maybe, you’re allowed to start seeing yourself the way someone who loves you already does. 

•───────•°•[¯◉°]•°•───────•

“Damian come here.”

You watch as he pops his head out of the door frame from your shared bedroom. The use of his full name spurs him into an immediate reaction.

He was wearing grey sweatpants and a loose black long sleeve. You had about thirty minutes left with him before he leaves for the cave. Tonight, he had some training with Tim before they all went on patrol.

When he sees you trying, and failing miserably, to hide the smirk on your face, he raises an eyebrow.

“What are you up to my love?”

A hum comes from your lips, as you prop up your phone on the kitchen aid mixer. Noticing that the camera is open and facing in your direction, his arms stiffen at his sides.

This had not been the first time he had fallen victim to your shenanigans.

Realizing that he’s suddenly as stiff as a tree, a laugh escapes you. It’s a harmony to his ears when he’s blessed with the sound. The sight of your smile, causes a slight twitch of his lips. If you hadn’t been looking for it, you would’ve missed it.

“Can you do something for me?”

“Anything you ask beloved.” His answer was immediate, it always was when you asked him for something.

Damian would have burned the world to the ground if it meant you would smile at him like that every morning. There weren’t enough words in any language that could properly capture how he felt about you. It was more than love, more than devotion, it was something he was convinced only existed in the way you chose each other.

“Lift your arms in the air, straight up.” When he does, your palms rest on his bicep with a feather light touch. There’s a small amount of force in you pushing them together, so they’re parallel next to his head. “Okay perfect, make sure to keep them there.”

The eyebrow is back to being raised. The other one joins it’s partner when your arms wrap around his neck.

There’s a subtle flush dusting the beautiful tan skin of his face when you’re centimeters apart. There’s a subtle glint of mischief in his eye that he is too used to when your lips meet his.

He wasn’t sure what the test was, but he would retake it every night if it meant your lips never left his.

This was his favorite part of the day. When it was just the both of you in the intimacy of the night, sharing kisses stolen from his dreams.

He kept his arms in the air, a proper soldier following his orders. There was no wish he wanted to be granted more than for you to allow him to drop his arms. He yearned to hold you against him, the woman he dedicated himself too.

This was torture.

After a few more seconds, you slowly pull away. His swollen lips go to chase yours, for another kiss before he has to abandon you for some hours of the night.

When his eyes flutter open, he sees the small ounce of disappointment behind your eyes and his heart sinks.

Without hesitation, he goes against the only orders you gave him and his arms drop. The warmth of your lower back is more comforting than he’ll ever allow himself to admit out loud.

“What have I done qalbi?” His eyebrows furrow together.

At the term of endearment you shake your head with a small smile. His only response is to hold you tighter. It was common for you two to have conversations with little words, spoken in actions and longing glances. Damian had never been one for many words, but with you, he tried.

“It’s nothing.” When he pulls you tighter, you knew then that he wasn’t going to let it go. “It’s a stupid trend, basically you test your partner to see if they drop their arms and melt into the kiss.”

Understanding flashes across his face with a singular nod. His eyes catch the time on the oven clock and then glances back at you, in his arms.

“My love, I only kept my arms up because you instructed me too. Believe me, if I knew this was the test, I would’ve failed it immediately, or passed. I’m not sure which result is which.”

A laugh passes in between you. Something small and breathless, enough to make him debate on telling his father he cannot attend the patrol tonight.

“We have twenty seven minutes until I leave for patrol.”

A beat. Then,

“Okay…”

“What would you like me to do, to make it up to you?”

“Damian-”

“Please,” he rarely pleads. Even with you, he has never allowed himself to end up in a position where he has to beg for forgiveness or anything similar to it. “Allow me to make it up to you.”

“Well if you insist…” There’s a cheeky smile that appears on your face. “If you would like to cook up a quick dinner for your lovely amazing girlfriend who hates to cook, she would be very happy!”

And for the first time that evening, he laughs. Your hatred for cooking came in handy most days. Richard had told him once “happy wife, happy life.” While Todd advised him the way to anyone’s heart was through their stomach.

He took both of the recommendations to heart. They had worked so far for him, but he would never let them know that.

He drops a kiss to your forehead, holding you tighter. “Anything you desire.”

•───────•°•[¯◉°]•°•───────•

Damian had been in the cave for a little over forty five minutes. He had wrapped up his training and now they were waiting for him his father to join them in the cave.

Bruce had been on a date with Selina, but they should be back any moment now. Everyone was here for patrol and Selina was going to be joining them tonight.

“Wha….”

Stephanie’s voice echoes through the cave as she sits up in the chair she had been previously lounging in. Timothy, being as nosy as ever, looks over at her phone. His jaw drops and a sputtering noise comes out of him.

They now had the attention of all the occupiers in the cave, including even Alfred.

Tim and Stephanie look at each other, then his heat skips a beat as they both look to stare at him. Betraying no emotion, he merely moves his head the slightest bit, a motion to get them to explain their sudden hysteria.

“Damian, what the fuck is this?”

The use of foul language confuses him. He hadn’t done anything particularly out of the ordinary recently. Stepping closer to the odd pair he bends down to look closer at Stephanie’s phone.

Ah.

It was the video from the trend you had asked him to participate in earlier. When you asked him if it would be okay to post, he assured you that he wouldn’t mind.

He did however not factor in the possibility of his family finding out. A rather stupid thing to forget.

“From what I am told.” His throat bobs while he swallows, attempting to keep his cool. “That is a Tik Tok Trend.”

“Well no shit.” Timothy remarks. “Who’s she?”

At that, Damian cannot do much to hide the way his face could pass for a rose bush.

Richard, seeing the reaction, throws his arm around Damian’s shoulder with a wicked grin. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say our little Dami has a girlfriend.”

Todd snorts. “We gotta take the girl to Arkham and run a test on her. She’s gotta be messed up to go out with Demon spawn.”

“You will do no such thing.” Damian’s head snaps in the Frankenstein wannabe’s direction. “If I found out you even lay a hand on her, I will personally-”

“What’s going on?” Father steps off the elevator with Selina on his arm. Both of their eyebrows are about to fly off their face when they take in the scene.

“Damian’s got a girlfriend.” Cassandra says from her new place behind Stephanie.

“Oh, that sweet girl that works at the record store off Broadway and Seventeenth?” Selina asks with a faux innocent tone.

Damian’s eyes narrow in their direction. It was foolish of him to think that his father and Selina were not aware. He did however not enjoy that they had spied on her without his permission.

“Yes,” he swallows. “Her.”

Father nods with a small twitch of his lip. “She’s a nice girl, you should invite her to dinner.”

“I…” Damian pauses. “I will consider it.”

Father accepts the answer and directs Selina to the changing room. While they both change into the suit, Pennyworth approaches the young master Wayne and asks in a low voice,

“I assume, I should not mention that I have already met the young miss?”

•───────•°•[¯◉°]•°•───────•

A/N: Yes this is me projecting my hatred for cooking. Also say thank you to my bsf who sent me a video so I could write this bc I don’t have tik tok LOL (I was going to include duke in this no i didn't forget about him but i wasn't sure if it'd fit bc he patrols through the day im sorry )

Jason appeared in the hallway, hair dripping, but already wearing sweatpants. “You started it without me? I told ya I wanted to watch the opening too—”

He stopped mid-sentence, falling silent, his mouth parting in shock—maybe at the scene? At your calmness with the intruder? Or at the intruder’s sheer audacity?

“Just what I needed,” Jason growled, voice sharp with irritation. “Why the hell are you in my apartment?”

Damian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, chewing calmly. He simply shrugged—after all, how was he supposed to explain that he had only come to check if he was still alive? It had been a whole month since he last saw him. But he wasn’t worried!

“That’s mine—Damian, you should be at home. Your home.” Jason sighed, running a hand down his face. “Get off my couch. And stop eating my food.”

Damian ignored him completely. He leaned further back into the cushions, posture relaxed in a way that made Jason’s eye twitch. Then his gaze shifted slowly toward Jason.

“You look… fuller. Softer,” the younger one commented, his gaze drifting briefly toward you, who watched the argument in silence, before quickly returning to his brother.

Damian tilted his head to the side, as if evaluating a painting.

“Have you reduced your training frequency,” he continued, his voice strangely neutral, not teasing, just observational, “or simply increased your intake of nutritionally void food?”

“Did you just call me fat?”

“…No,” he replied, but then paused to think for a few seconds. “Did I? I merely commented on your body fat—“

Jason crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“…Whatever,” he continued, tone quieter now, more thoughtful than before. “You no longer smell like cheap takeout grease and smoke. That is an improvement.”

“…That would be because he finally eats real food now,” you cut in, smiling, proud of your contribution to your boyfriend’s health.

Jason shot you a look over his shoulder, a little wounded that you had indirectly agreed with the little demon.

Damian reached out to grab more popcorn, but Jason slapped his hand away.

“Stop. Eating. My. Food. Okay. Great. Family bonding moment over.” Jason clapped his hands once, sharp and final. “You’ve seen me. Now out. Door. Window. Vent. I don’t care. Pick one.”

Damian’s attention snapped back to you, still ignoring his brother. He straightened slightly where he sat, gaze narrowing with renewed interest.

“You prepare the food?” he asked.

You nodded once. “Most of it.” You smiled. “Do you want to try the dessert?”

“…Dessert?” he repeated.

“I made chocolate cake,” you added casually. “With ganache.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed again. “…Homemade?” he asked.

“Yes.”

You disappeared into the kitchen before your boyfriend could protest.

Jason took a deep breath and dropped onto the couch, far too tired to argue any further. When the younger one opened his mouth to speak, he cut him off immediately.

“Not one more question,” Jason muttered. “Eat in silence.”

him ♡

you love jason, of course. he's a wonderful boyfriend and adores you, but sometimes you want to go out with your friends. without him.

tonight, you told him you were going to go bar hopping with a friend of yours and he asked to come, to lookout for you. the sentiment was sweet, but you are an adult and can handle a few drinks. you told him it would just be a few hours, and you would be fine. he didnt like that answer.

"baby, c'mon. please?" jason wraps a big calloused hand around your wrist, tugging you softly towards him. he wasnt rough with you. he just needed to make sure his lover was safe.

"jay, i'll be home in a few hours." you say, "you have patrol tonight anyways."

that earns you a big puppy pout, "but what if you are in trouble and i'm not there–"

"jason, i can handle myself." you say. you really dont need a big scary guard dog. you don't mean to come off rude or short, but he shuts his mouth. his hand drops away and he nods once.

you look up and realize the unintended consequences of your dismissal. his eyes are sad, but he's obviously trying to hide it from you.

you sigh softly, you nonchalance melting away into softness. "c'mere." you murmur, pulling him closer but his belt loop. you look up at him, mossy green eyes looking like a kicked puppy.

"you know i love spending time with you, yeah?" you ask, your voice low and comforting. "i just dont want you to worry about me going out with a friend." your hand reaches up and you brush his jaw with your thumb.

his face immediately nuzzles into your hand, like a cat seeking affection. "i always worry about you. it's my job." he mumbles against the skin of your palm.

"i know, sweetheart." you say gently, jason turning into a gooey melty mess at the endearment.

"would you drive me to the bar?" you ask softly. you know if you at least let him drive you to and from, he'd feel better.

he face splits into a small smile, "mmkay, ma." he presses a kiss to your palm. and then the back of your hand. and up your arm. he moves on to pressing kisses to your temple and cheeks, and finally your lips.

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, I don't wanna scare him away y’know? it took us so long to even start dating,” you sigh into your phone. It’s quiet as the person on the other line responds, he can’t quite make out what they’re saying, whatever it is makes you let out a breathy chuckle.

“I mean we already said ‘I love you’ and I do but I don't know this feels like it's more than love,” you chew on your bottom lip, heartpounding as the word sits on the tip of your tongue. You hesitate, playing with the strings of his hoodie you were wearing, smiling as you pictured your lover sleeping soundly in the bedroom. 

“is it insane to say I feel like he’s my soulmate?” you smile, practically kicking your feet as you speak the words. Xavier feels his head spin, his mouth dries up as his heart beats harder against his chest.

Soulmate.

Xavier regains his bearings too late, a flash of light already making your head turn to where he was. His cheeks are flushed, ears red and hands shaking slightly as he tries to compose himself, puppy eyes ready to go in case you were mad at him for eavesdropping.

“Xavier? Is that you? Hold on, I think I left the kitchen light on,” you mumble, kicking the blanket off your legs before coming face to face with your glowing boyfriend, golden specks fluttering around him and encompassing the two of you. 

His plan on fawning goes out the window when he sees you, dressed in his hoodie and your hair slightly messy from your actions with him before the phone call.

“My star please hang up,” Xavier breathes out, trying to steady his hands as he reaches out for your waist.

“I’ll call you later, bye,” you rush out, barely ending the call as Xavier’s lips meet yours. you can’t stop the smile on your lips as he deeps the kiss, pulling you closer to his body. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Do you mean it?” his voice is strained, grip tightening around you as you stare up at him in confusion. “What you said on the phone, were you talking about me?” the golden orbs around you flicker, their intensity lowering as you stare at your lover in silence. 

it takes you a moment for everything to click in your mind, eavesdropping little-

“If it's not me then who? I promise I can be better, I’ll do anything-” he rambles, his grip on you tightening possessively. You cut him off with your lips on his, ignoring the way your teeth clash initially, smiling when he whines softly into the kiss. You relish in the way he holds you closer to him. When you pull away his eyes are dark and pupils wide, you giggle at the way his eyes flutter open. 

“I was talking about you, you're the only one for me” you smile up at him, the lights in your apartment flicker, the love of your life glows brighter before you. Xavier pulls you closer to him, face buried in the crook of your neck, stomach flipping as the smell of his laundry detergent mixes with your perfume.

“Say it,” he breathes against your neck, “I wanna hear you say it.”

“You're my soulmate, Xavier," you whisper out, like it's a secret only meant to be heard between the two of you and the four walls of his apartment. “I only want you.”

His grip tightens around you for a second, his warm breath fans over your neck before he presses wet kisses to the skin, humming when he feels your knees buckle as he bites down softly.

“My star,” he mumbles between kisses, “you’re my everything,” he makes his way up your neck, "mine in every lifetime,” a kiss to your jaw. His lips hover over yours for a second, you can feel his breath fanning over you, eyes half lidded, you look at him through your lashes. “I’ll find you no matter what, it'll always be you, my soulmate.”

Xavier's words make your heart stutter and mind melt, closing the distance between you as your lips move passionately against his, hands grasping at the hair at the nape of his neck, smiling when he moans as you tug softly. 

“I love you, starboy,” you mumble between messy kisses, "you're only mine, right?”

Xavier whimpers at your words, the sound of a lightbulb shattering makes you pull away. His calloused hand is quick to find your cheek, gently redirecting you back to him. “I’m all yours,” he breathes out, voice hoarse, “and you’re all mine starlight.”

“Don’t think you're off the hook for eavesdropping," you say against his lips, biting at his bottom lip softly before pulling away. Xavier immediately flashes you a small pout with wide eyes and angled brows. You force yourself to look away, feeling your resolve leave your body much too quickly. “Dont look at me like that,” you mumble. 

“Can’t I look at my soulmate?” his voice is soft as ever, you can't stop your head from turning to look at him, wide sapphire eyes staring back at you.

You were a goner, and Xavier knew it, but he wasn’t much better.

ZAYNE !

“Jus’ one more drink!” you slur out, stumbling against your boyfriend and he leads you out of the bar, shaking his head at your feeble attempts to break free of his grasp.

“Darling, one more drink and you’ll throw up in my car like last time,” his voice is gentle, slowly leading you to his car as you wave goodbye to your friends reluctantly.

There’s a small pout on your lips as he buckled you in, kissing your temple before closing the door and sliding in the driver's seat. He'd already queue’d your playlist, a small smile on his lips as you sang your little heart out.

There's a pause before the next song blares through his car's speakers, you hum along before turning the volume down, suddenly turning to your lover and staring at him intently. Zayne glances at you a couple times, raising a brow as he bites back a smile at your attempt to look serious (your body sways back and forth and a small smile plays on your lips.)

“I have something like serious business I have to say to you,” you fumble out, watching as Zayne juggles glancing at you and the empty road ahead.

“Okay, go on my love,” he says, voice as steady as ever. It makes your knees weaker than they were already, your heart thumps loudly against your chest as you muster up the remaining liquid courage in your veins.

“Nevermind,” you chicken out, leaning into the plush passenger seat and staring at your  boyfriend with half lidded eyes. 

“What is it? You can tell me,” he pushes slightly, hazel eyes looking at you softly, it makes your stomach flutter. 

“What if you don't feel the same?” you pout, eyes glossing over and bottom lip wobbling the tiniest bit. 

The words have Zayne's grip on the steering wheel tightening, the brakes squealing as he comes to an abrupt halt on the side of the road, parking the car and turning his hazards on before looking at you with concerned eyes.

“Do you think I don't love you?” His words are frantic and desperate, your drunken mind misinterprets his tone, pouting as your shoulders deflate.

“No I know you love me it's just-” you mumble, already shifting your body to face the window. Zayne doesn’t let you, his usual composure falling to pieces as he reaches across the center console to have you face him, hazel eyes searching yours, pupils blown wide. 

“You can tell me anything, darling,” he breathes out, “will you please tell me?”

The softness in his voice makes your inebriated resolve fall apart, your eyes stare at his lips for a moment before refocusing on your confession at hand. 

“I feel like you're my soulmate” you mumble, eyes slowly focusing from his eyes back down to his pink lips. 

Zayne feels his heart skip a beat, hat creeping up his cheeks as he catches the way you stare at him with pure want. 

“Darling, I know you are my soulmate,” he confesses, memorizing the way your eyes widen and sparkle, the smallest gasp leaving your lips. 

“Zayne-” your words are cut off by him pressing his lips to yours, ignoring the bitter taste of alcohol on your lips as his tongue swipes your bottom lip. A small whine leaves your lips as he pulls away, he has the slightest smirk on his lips when you pull him back by the collar of his button up. Your mouths move together in sync, you can taste the mint left behind from the gum he was chewing while he waited for you. Zayne lets his hands cup your cheeks, only pulling away when he feels your hand snaking to his thigh. 

“Let's get home first, okay?” He offers, placing a gentle kiss to your nose when you reluctantly agree.

You're asleep by the time he parks the car in the garage, carrying you to bed and helping you out of your clothes, pressing soft kisses to your face as he does your skincare for you. He tries to ignore the blush on his cheeks as you compliment him between giggles. 

“Do I tell you how hot you are? I need to tell you more,” you mumble, Zayne struggles to keep his composure, finishing the final step before finally carrying you to bed. 

“Do I tell you how gorgeous you are? How stunning and brilliant you are?” He hums, turning the compliments on you, he smiles as you turn away in embarrassment. He gently repositions you so that you're facing him, “I need to tell my soulmate I love them more, don't I?” He pauses for a second, letting you try to push away from him, only to come back immediately. He presses a feathery kiss to the top of your head. “I love you.”

“You mean it?” you mumble against his chest, hands intertwined with his.

Zayne feels his heart clench at your vulnerable words, “I would never lie to you about this. You're the only one for me, we are meant to be together in this life and the next.” His serious tone is a contrast to the gentle look in his eyes.

You can’t stop the giggles leaving your mouth, nuzzling your warm face into his neck and placing a flurry of kisses on his neck.

“I love you,” you sigh out, eyelids heavy as the alcohol takes its toll on your body.

“I love you more,” Zayne whispers, a small smile on his lips as your breathing evens out. He smooths your hair down, arms holding you a little tighter, “my soulmate.”

RAFAYEL !

The thought occurred to you during a fleeting moment as he walked hand in hand with you from the beach, laughter being carried by the ocean breeze.

Your fond eyes took in his every feature, every mole and noise he made, your chest growing warm. My Rafayel. My boyfriend. My soulmate.

You falter slightly as the last word weighs heavy in your mind. There isn’t much of an opportunity for you to linger on the word, Rafayel is quick to sweep you off your feet and carry you into the house bridal style, smiling sweetly down at you before kissing your cheek.

“What does my darling lover wish to eat tonight?” His voice is airy and playful as he plops the two of you on the couch, brushing your hair behind your ear. He relishes in the way you squirm, the way you avert your gaze out of bashfulness.

“Whatever my handsome fishie desires” you reply back, wiggling out of his arms and standing, “I’m gonna go shower.” 

Soulmate. The word rattles around in your head, a million thoughts racing in your mind as the water hits your skin. You stare at the ornate tile long enough for the design to be seared into your eyes.

A knock at the door makes you jump, soap effectively getting in your eye. “fuck,” you mumble softly, quickly rinsing the suds off your body, “what is it?” You call out, lowering the water pressure to hear better.

“You okay cutie? It’s been a while,” Rafayel's concern makes your stomach twist.

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

Rafayel notices your subtle change in attitude, watching the way you stare at him more intently, the way you hold back your affections for him. He frowns when he catches you stopping your arm from wrapping around his waist as he stands in the kitchen with you.

He doesn’t say anything, not yet.

That was two days ago, and now Rafayel feels like he’s going to die soon if he doesn’t feel the warmth of your skin on his. He’d gotten out of bed before you this morning, telling you he wouldn’t be back until early evening under the guise of buying new paints at the market. He tried his best to hide his frown when he saw how relieved you looked to be alone for the day.

You let out a sigh of relief when the front door clicked shut, giving it two minutes before dialing your best friend's number.

“I’m in a crisis and I need your help,” you rushed out as soon as she answered. You were too jittery to stay still, kicking off the blanket and pacing around the room.

“You know Rafayel? the handsome artist that I’m dating and am head over heels for?” you ramble, walking out of the room and into the hallway, staring at the art pieces for a second before continuing your panicked walk.

“Yeah so what do I do if I think he’s my soulmate?” the words leave your mouth conveniently as the front door opens, your wide eyes meet the shocked dual chrome ones of your boyfriend.

“- forgot my wallet,” the words die on his tongue as he processes the words he wasn't meant to hear. Neither of you move, staring at each other like fish out of water. 

“Cutie please tell me you’re talking about me or this is going to get really awkward really fast,” he breaks the silence first, watching as you quickly hang up the phone.

“Did you hear that?” part of you hopes he didn’t, the other part of you wonders what he’ll say.

“Hear the love of my life call me their soulmate? Yeah I heard that part,” he says, closing the front door behind him, he takes two tentative steps towards you, gauging your reaction. Your face flushes at his words.

You take a step towards him, helping close the distance. Rafayel doesn’t hesitate to take a mile when you give him an inch, arm looping around your waist and pulling you against him.

“You were talking about me, right?” His voice is a lower octave and it makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

“maybe,” you breathe out, eyes frantically searching his own, “do you feel the same?”

Rafayel feels his skin ignite as your hands brush over the skin of his cheek, his eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. “How could I not feel the same when you’re so perfect for me? of course I think you’re my soulmate. You're my muse and inspiration, the reason I live.” He punctuates each point with a kiss to your hand, then your wrist.

“My beautiful soulmate,” he smiles, watching as you break into a grin. He presses a kiss to your neck, breathy giggles between kisses up your neck and jaw before finally capturing your lips in his. “Is that why you’ve been distant? you were scared I didn’t feel the same?”

Rafayel feels you tense at his words, relaxing when he places another kiss on your cheek. “You noticed that?” You cringe, nose scrunching as he pulls away from you.

“I live to love you and you think I wouldn’t notice when you pulled away?” you laugh at the incredulous look on his face, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he carries you to the couch. He feels you mumble a ‘sorry’ against his skin, kissing him softly before looking up.

“Don't you have to go buy some paint?” you ask, running your fingers through his purple strands before focusing on his eyes again.

“Oh that was a lie,” he says plainly, “was gonna buy you that diamond bracelet you wanted because I thought you were mad at me.” Your jaw drops, he continues. “But now we can go pick something out together, to celebrate our soulmate-ism!” he grins.

Rafayel doesn’t let you protest, shutting you up with a kiss on the lips every time you try and argue. You give in eventually, with the two of you coming back with matching bracelets whose price tag made your vision blur (Rafayel didn’t bat an eye as he handed over his card).

SYLUS !

It was your fault for thinking Mephisto would actually keep a secret from his creator. You were too distracted by the prospect of finally catching up with friends as you hurriedly kissed Sylus goodbye while he was half asleep, hopping on your bike and heading towards Linkon. you hadn’t noticed the mechanical crow following you in plain sight, the flutter of his wings masked by your friends voices as you hugged them all.

The three of you sat at a table outside, making small talk before ordering and setting menus aside. You caught up on the usual, work, hobbies, gossip, the shows you all watched.

“Okay let’s cut to the chase, this Sylus guy,” your friend waggles her brows at you, you scoff, pushing her gently and hoping they think the flush on your cheeks is due to the sun and not because of the mention of your lover.

“No we’re really good,” you smile, biting your bottom lip, “I really, really love him and he’s the sweetest ever, i don’t know i think-” you cut yourself off, heart pounding as you stare at your friends expectant faces.

“Are you serious?”

“Oh my god!”

“I think he’s the one, I feel like he’s my soulmate,” you breathe out, laughing when your friends squeal in excitement.

Mephisto isn’t perfect, his feathers puff up at your confession and the poor bird can’t stop the squawk of excitement that leaves him. You whip your head around at the sound, jaw dropping when you see him perched on a branch of the tree besides you. Your narrowed eyes are enough to keep the crow grounded in place.

Two hours later you part ways with your friends, double checking they were out of sight before snatching Mephisto out of the tree he was in, a concerned ‘caw’ leaving his beak when you manhandle him.

“You can not tell Sylus what I said here today, okay?” your breathing is panicked as you look around, “the last thing I want is to scare him off because im in too deep too quickly or he doesn’t feel the same or-” your grip on the bird loosens, he doesn’t move, instead he nuzzles his head to your hand.

“I don't wanna mess this up, promise me you won’t tell him, promise me Mephie?” the bird lets out a soft ‘caw.’ You smile at him, placing a kiss to the top of his head before releasing him. “Okay, let’s go home then.”

Mephisto arrives at the base before you do, seeing as you stopped quickly at the grocery store, having misplaced your faith in the corvid; truly believing he would stay true to his caw and keep a secret from his father maker. You walk in the front door, with a smile on your face, skipping to the kitchen and setting down the snacks you’d bought.

“Did you have a good time, sweetie?” Sylus’ deep voice makes you turn with a smile, your eyes sparkling as you nod quickly. Sylus doesn’t waste time, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on and snaking his arms around your waist. “Did you happen to talk about me?” There’s a lilt to his voice, you hum softly.

“Maybe, maybe not,” you scrunch your nose, kissing his lips before attempting to break free of his grasp, "I need to put the ice cream in the fridge before it melts!” you protest, barely putting an effort to leave his arms.

“I’m sure as soulmates we’ll have plenty more ice cream in our lives, no?” Your movements still as the words process in your mind, eyes going wide and stomach dropping.

“That fucking bird!” you gasp out, panic rising in your chest, “I’m sorry I just- we can take a step back if you want-” you ramble, not noticing Sylus’ brows furrowing at your words as you attempt to backtrack on the words you very obviously meant.

“Did you not mean it?” His deep voice is steady, his grip on you hasn’t faltered, still holding you close to him. Your eyes meet his, trying to clue yourself in on his emotions.

“I did- I do, but I don't wanna scare you off,” you admit. Your heart is racing, the sound of it beating loudly in your ears masks Sylus' heart beating just as loudly. You avert your gaze from his, focusing on the frayed edges of his old t-shirt.

“You couldn’t scare me off even if you tried, kitten,” he mumbles, a soft smile replacing his teasing smirk. He leans down, stopping inches from your lips before whispering, “for the record I told mephisto you were my soulmate the day I met you.”

His words make your eyes dart from his shirt to his eyes. Sylus forces himself to mask his amusement at your surprised look. You open your mouth to reply, but he doesn’t give you a chance to get a word out as he crashes his lips to yours, allowing you to lead the kiss. Your head spins as your lips move against his, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, leaning into him until the two of you are stumbling backwards.

Your lips only disconnect when you gasp for air, Sylus’ back pressed against the wall as he watches you fondly. “If I had known I was gonna get this reaction I would’ve told you I thought you were my soulmate sooner,” he teases, you squint your eyes at him, pouting slightly.

“Don't make fun of me, I was scared!” you press your forehead against his chest, eyes closing as you listen to his racing heart.

Sylus moves his hand to fix your hair, coming to rest on your cheek before snaking to your chin and gently lifting it so you face him.

“You don’t need to be scared to tell me anything, okay? our souls are made up of each other,” his gaze softens, your knees buckle.

“I love you,” you breathe out, pressing your lips to his once more.

“What about the ice cream?” he mumbles against your lips.

“Fuck the ice cream.”

Sylus doesn’t stop the rumble of laughter in his chest as he sweeps you off your feet and carries you to the bedroom.

CALEB !

“I wanna try this” you tilt your screen to Caleb, he watches the video for a moment before turning to look at you. 

“You don’t like that kind of food,” he says casually, turning back to the tv as you furrow your brows at him. 

“How would you know? I’ve never even tried it,” you huff, tapping the post and checking where the store was located. 

“Pips, trust me you won't like it, you're gonna complain about the texture of it,” the cocky smile on his face made you frown, shaking your head. 

“Look! They have a place here in Skyhaven, let's go try it!” 

One bite was all it took, your face falling after the first bite, entire body freezing. 

“Does it taste good?” Caleb smiles, taking a sip from the broth of the ramen he got, your favorite kind. 

“Mhm, yummy” you cringe, forcing yourself to chew and swallow harshly. You’d be damned if Caleb was right for the nth time about you. 

“Can I try it? You can have some of mine too,” he smiles, you immediately nod at the opportunity. Caleb switches your plates quickly, shaking his head as he watches you hum happily at the first spoonful of noodles. You know what he’s doing, thankful as he spares your pride while he finishes off your food. 

It happens again when you show him a t- shirt online you wanna order, “it's a limited time drop! I need to get this,” you muse, staring at the ‘add to cart’ button. 

“Baby you don't even like any of those color ways, you're never gonna wear it,” he reasons, pulling you into his lap and kissing the pout on your lips. 

“Yes I will,” you bite back. 

“Using it as a sleeping shirt doesn't count.”

You order the shirt anyway, wearing out on a date out of spite. It turns into a sleeping shirt after that. 

It’s not one way though, with you picking up any supplies or necessities for his house in Skyhaven, he catches you putting them away. 

“I knew I was forgetting to do something, I’m sorry baby,” he sighs, placing a kiss on your cheek, his colonel uniform still on as he melts into your touch. 

“It’s okay, I knew you’d forget,” you tease, “I also got you new socks, throw away those ripped ones you have.” Caleb lights up at your words, a flurry of wet kisses landing on your face before you can push him away. 

Life felt easy with Caleb, the two of you moving in sync around the house, knowing exactly what the other needed without having to say a word. 

You hand him the seasonings he needs as he looks around your kitchen, you rearrange it before he comes over the next time, mirroring the kitchen in skyhaven, he doesnt struggle to find the salt anymore.

Caleb gives you half of his closet and drawers, filling it with clothes you'd left behind previously, organizing it and folding your clothing in the way he knows you like. He buys the detergent and softener you like, throwing his away after you complained that it smelled weird. 

It’s not in any grand gestures he does, not in the grand bouquet of flowers he brings you when he’s been gone on a mission for weeks. It’s not when he’s pressing you against the wall, pinning your wrists above your head and making you writhe and come undone beneath him. 

No, the realization comes to you in bits and pieces. 

It comes to you when he hands you a dandelion as the two of you stroll through the city, “make a wish,” he grins, watching as you close your eyes and blow. He does the same with his, “I wished for us to always be together.” You roll your eyes at him, corny, “they say if you say your wish out loud it never comes true,” you laugh as his face falls, frantically searching for another dandelion. 

It’s when he helps you brush your teeth after a night out, wiping your makeup off gently and acting as your jester when you're upset. It’s when you're whispering sweet nothings to each other in bed, hushed giggles as if you're scared of getting caught up past your bedtime. It's when he comes to you with wet lashes, baring his heart to you and confessing his insecurities, leaning into your touch as you kiss away his worries, your words wrapping around his heart in a comforting embrace. 

Maybe you've always known, but could never place a word to it. As you sit under the stars, head on his chest as you listen to his heartbeat and the rumble of his deep voice as he rattles off constellations to you. 

“Do you believe in soulmates, Caleb?” You cut him off, he doesn't mind. You hear his heartbeat increase, both of you still stare at the stars above you. 

“I do, do you pips?” His voice wavers slightly, gaze focusing on you, he watches as your lips twitch into a smile. You take a deep breath before sitting up and moving next to him. 

“I think I didn't at first, I always thought it was silly,” you laugh, eyes catching a moving star, you turn to Caleb and continue. “But I don't think there’s any other way to describe what you are to me,” you shrug, “I love you too much for it to not bleed into our destiny.”

Caleb feels the world around him stop, his mouth falls open slightly at your words. You smile at him sweetly, like you didn’t just put poets to shame. 

“You’re the reason I believe in soulmates” he finally says, “from the moment we met I knew I was destined to be yours, and you mine.”

Your face flushes at his words, a small squeak leaves you when he pulls you onto his lap, staring at you for a second before pressing his lips to yours. Caleb’s grip on you is tight, fingers digging into the plush of your waist. 

“I love you so much,” he mumbles between kisses. You hum in return, gasping when his grip tightens. 

“I love you, Caleb.” You smile against his lips, laughing when he bursts into a fit of bashful giggles.