#i hated love victor that show just BOILS my blood

[local-maenad]

No hate to Xochitl Gomez at all she’s a very good actress and does well as America Chavez but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want

HER to be America.

[vexillumalbum]

MLQC boys being interrupted while having sex w/Reader

I think the title is pretty self-explanatory. 

All I want to say is that I wrote it long ago so there might be some mistakes. Also please bear in mind that English is not my native language. Thank you! I hope you'll enjoy!

NSFW below!

Gavin

The orange rays of the setting sun warmed the naked skin of your back pleasantly from behind the windows. Your boyfriend's white button-up casually framed your waist, barely clinging to your forearms, previously sliding off your shoulders. You had to hold it with your hands to keep it from sliding completely off. 

In fact, in that position, Gavin had a perfect view of your bare curves, with the shirt or without it. 

He was lying on his back facing you, propped up on pillows with his arms behind his head. His watchful gaze never left your body, even for a moment. His amber eyes scanned your figure, gliding over your perky breasts, smooth skin glazed in orange and silky strands of hair dancing near your neck and collarbones with your every move. 

He licked his lips.

“Come here.” It wasn’t an order, but also not a plea. It sounded more like a request of a man so in love with his girl that he couldn’t bear not touching her anymore. 

You giggled - and Gavin could’ve sworn it was the prettiest sound in the whole universe - before wrapping your fingers around his outstretched hand, letting yourself be guided to his solid body. 

Minutes later you were a moaning mess, your hips pinned to the mattress by two calloused hands, the devilish sounds coming from between your legs mixing with heavenly whimpers of your boyfriend’s name that were leaving your bruised lips. 

The grip you had on Gavin’s hair tightened when he sucked on your clit in time with his fingers working magic inside your heat. In response you heard a growl as his hips started assaulting the mattress even faster. The beast has been awoken

Tingling on your skin came as a warning for the pleasure that was supposed to arrive next. Your muscles were squeezing Gavin’s fingers hard and he couldn’t wait for his cock to be enveloped by your wet warmth next. Heels dug into the mattress, fingers gripping white sheets, head thrown back with parted lips and ragged breath and—

Thump thump thump

“Are you guys okay in there?!” Minor’s concerned voice sounded from outside of the bedroom right after knocking. It startled you to the point where you jumped up, covering your bare figure with anything you could reach for, even though you were sure the doors were closed and the intruder wasn’t able to come inside the room. “I’ve heard some weird noises and I thought I’d check on you! You know, better safe than sorry!”

Gavin immediately looked over you, checking if you were alright, before turning his head to the door with a look that could kill. He palmed himself through his boxers, his erection still evident and painful. 

“We’re alright! Thanks, Minor.” After a brief moment of silence you managed to say, not knowing if you should laugh or cry or maybe both. You heard a quiet “okay” and some shuffling - the intruder left the area.

In a moment of passion both you and Gavin had forgotten that Minor was temporarily living in your apartment due to AC disfunction at his place. He wasn’t a perfect roommate but at the same his presence wasn’t overbearing and you didn’t have any complaints… up until now.

“I’ll beat him up.” Through clenched teeth Gavin’s voice was low as he was putting on some shorts he took out of the drawers, and he now resembled the Super-Scary-Officer-Gavin more  than Your-Loving-And-Doting-Boyfriend-Gavin. 

“Don’t be so harsh on him. He was concerned.” You giggled only to be met with a doubting look from your boyfriend. “As he said, better safe than sorry.”

“I’ll give him something to be sorry about.” Poor Minor

Victor

The last few weeks have been pure torture. You were very open about how much you hated these business trips that both you and Victor had to take all the time to different places in the world. Your boyfriend was less outspoken, however the days of longing were taking its toll on him as much as on you. Sleepless nights, lonely dinners, unfulfilled lust…

Therefore, when there were no meetings, reports and proposals to write or filming sites to visit on the horizon, you jumped almost literally at the opportunity and took Victor to the wellness center. 

It was a pleasant evening, the sun had recently set, but the heat was still there, aligned from time to time by the cool breeze. The white bathrobe your only cover as you and Victor relaxed on the private terrace of the apartment, with the sound of the bubbling jacuzzi in the background.

Sitting in his lap, your boyfriend was caressing your bare thigh with one of his hands, while the other was stroking your hair. It was an intimate moment shared between two lovers finally reunited and ready to spend some much needed relaxing time together. 

Until…

It started as an innocent kiss between sips of fine dry wine selected by Victor himself.

He had you almost fully naked on his lap, with your robe slipping down your back, threading fingers in your silky strands and tasting your lips - which he had to admit - were even tastier than his favorite crimson beverage.  

You were determined to get him naked, to free these gorgeous muscles from beneath the soft robe. With your nails scraping his skin lightly you were revealing more and more of his toned body earning sweet sighs from Victor as a reward. 

His skilled fingers moved from your hair to kneading your butt, making your already wet pussy to rub on his clothed hard length. The added friction was like a cherry on top of the whole make out session but you didn’t want to stop there. Why would you settle for just a cake when you can have a full four course meal, right?

“Victor, I need it, please.” You begged when he didn’t want to give you what you wanted well knowing what was it that you desired. 

“What is it, babygirl?” His question was whispered into the damp skin of your neck where Victor was leaving love bites. “Tell me what you need. You know I’ll give you everything.” He sounded so seductive, his low voice was making you shiver and you were sure your pussy was getting wetter and wetter with every word he said. “Just say it.”

“You.” You crumbled. “I want your cock. Please.”

He fulfilled his promise a few seconds later when you felt his girth stretching you out in the best way possible. Victor gripped your hips and with a look that was telling you to prepare for a ride, he started thrusting up while roughly bringing you down on his cock over and over. 

You gripped his shoulders with one hand while the other was clamped over your mouth to make sure no-one could hear the moans your boyfriend was bringing out of you.

So close, you were co close, and when his thumb pressed on your clit, you could swear you saw stars and—

Bzzt bzzt bzzt

You jumped at the sudden sound, fear taking place of lust and passion. With a quick look to the side you saw that Victor’s phone was ringing and the caller’s ID was “Financial Director”. Thinking it was important you exited his lap, sliding to the next chair. 

A low growl escaped him when you pulled away, his member still as hard as ever. His furrowed brows were the indicator of how much he didn’t like what you did, but you only smiled to him sheepishly and gestured to his phone. 

A part of him was impressed of how much you valued his work and that you knew how important it was. Yet, the other part was furious that your love making fucking got interrupted. 

He took a second or two or more who knows if he stopped time to admire your rosy cheeks and bruised lips and how you were panting after minutes of passion, before picking up his phone from the table and answering the call.

“Be quick.” The tone of his voice so much different than when he was talking to you, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched - he was mad. But that didn’t stop him from giving you a look that you could only describe one way: I’m not done with you yet.

Shaw

At times like this, you were immensely grateful for the almost deafening music that could be heard in the Live House all the time. 

Usually, it annoyed you that the rumble from the speakers drowned out any other noises - like when you were talking to others, but now you liked that you had the freedom to moan as Shaw's hips were pounding into you to the rhythm of the club song. 

Hands clutching his muscular arms, head tilted back repeatedly hitting the wall behind you, you were braced for a wild ride. Your boyfriend's hands tightly squeezing your ass supporting your weight, his hot lips nibbling at your neck marking you in every place he had access to, his cock driving into you with a reckless abandon.

And all of this caused by your short dress that showed a little too much skin in Shaw’s opinion (and he would never have thought that something like “too much skin showing” would be a problem for him but seeing every guy in the club eyeing you had his blood boiling) and your teasing ways.

During the break between songs, when Shaw had a chance to rehydrate himself for another hour on stage, your boyfriend decided to satisfy a different type of thirst. For your pussy

Sex with Shaw was always fun and wild and everything you ever wanted. But it was the best when he was hot and bothered and when envy was seeping through his body like a venom making him see red.

To be honest, you weren’t surprised when he grabbed your wrist right after exiting the stage and pulled you into the back room. You weren’t surprised when he pinned you to the wall, his lips already marking your collarbone as his hands were skillfully pushing your panties aside. You weren’t surprised when he unzipped his pants and pushed them down, freeing his hard cock.

And you sure as hell weren’t surprised when he slid into you with one sharp thrust while sucking on the sensitive skin below your ear.

“Tell me,” he panted in between the thrusts while his tongue was exploring your neck. “Do you enjoy making me jealous? Do you think it’s funny or something?”

As you were able to only whimper and moan, you didn’t respond. Of course you were enjoying making him jealous once in a while, especially when you were rewarded with his hips snapping into your in the back room of Live House.

“Answer. Me.” You swore he wanted to kill you with how intensely he was impaling you on his cock.

“Yes! Yes oh god yes!” You managed to choke out right before his fingers pinched your clit. Loud scream elected from your throat and you didn’t fail to notice the smirk Shaw was having plastered to his handsome face.

“Let me make this clear, baby.” He slowed a little as he leaned into you to have his mouth right next to your ear. “You are mine. Only mine.”

You wanted to respond. Say something, anything, but then—

“Shaw! We’re going back on the stage!” 

Adam’s voice broke through the music and your pants along with a few pound knocks. You jumped at the sudden intruder, your eyes wide and lips parted. 

Shaw on the other hand was totally unfazed when he started thrusting into you with a full speed again. And again. And again. And again. 

He didn’t even say anything back, he just went straight back into fucking your brains out.

“I told you, you’re mine.” He murmured into your sweaty skin when he saw how startled you were. “So focus on me and only me.”

Lucien

You liked surprising your boyfriend. For example when you visited him at the university with some tasty lunch and a big smile plastered to your face, or when you learned how to brew tea so you could make him the best beverages when he was particularly stressed with work, or when you memorized all scientific names of his favorite butterflies to feel closer to him through joined hobby…

Or when he came back to his office at the Research Center after a tiring laboratory work only to find you wearing very skimpy purple lingerie and his lab coat, sitting in his chair with a smug grin and a twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

Part of him wanted to chide you for being reckless like that. After all, he would as much as kill, without even batting an eye, anyone who stumbled into his office with you being inside looking like that. 

But other part of him the freaky part already imagined taking you in various positions, against different surfaces during his whole lunch break. 

And so he started with face-fucking you on his desk, while pinning you to the mahogany wood with one hand as the other was palming himself through his trousers. Your panties torn and long forgotten on the floor, the lab coat loosely hugging your form with your legs wrapped around Lucien’s shoulders and hands grabbing his hair tightly. 

This man’s mouth could not only recite poetry and name every flower in the garden, but also it was able to make you cum in a record time. You had to bit your lip very very hard to control the volume of your moans.

Your second orgasm was delivered to you by the scientist’s long nibble fingers exploring your warm sensitive flesh like his life depended on it. And in a way it did, because you were the sole purpose of his existence and making you feel good was his mission, so…

Lucien was preparing you for the third one, when you decided that enough is enough. After all, you came there to make him feel good, not the other way around. 

So before your boyfriend could react you pushed him onto his chair and dropped to your knees with a grin, and when he stubbornly wanted to got up again, you batted your eyelashes a few times as you stroked his member through the fabric. He got the message and relaxed into the seat. But don’t be fooled, he was still in control.

“Such a good girl.” He praised you when you were undoing his belt. He gripped your hair guiding your face closer to his crotch.

You’ve given Lucien a blowjob so many times already, you knew exactly what to do. You licked, sucked, bobbed your head and massaged with your hands what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. 

Every sigh from the professor was making you shiver so you worked even harder to hear more of them until—

Knock knock knock

“Professor, excuse me…” From behind the door the head of one of Lucien’s assistants peeked out and before you could do anything he saw the position you and your boyfriend were in and immediately panicked. “Oh my— I’m—I’m so sorry!” 

He was long gone before you could even pull away from Lucien, but you didn’t miss the murderous stare professor had while looking at now - fortunately - closed door. You didn’t know if you should laugh or collapse into the ground from embarrassment. 

You were sure your face was redder than a tomato. Luckily, knowing Lucien’s reputation no-one would be so stupid to tell anyone about this situation. Or so you hoped so.

Before you decided on your final reaction to the intruder, Lucien’s palm grabbed a handful of your hair and he brought your head closer again so that your nose was brushing his hard moist cock. 

“I believe we have some unfinished business here, butterfly.”

Weirdly, you never saw this assistant in the Research Center ever again…

Kiro 

Kiro loved music almost as much as he loved you and his snacks.

So he was taking every opportunity he could to show you around his studio, write music with you and compose. 

And do other, less appropriate deeds.

For the longest time Sunshine Boy couldn’t find inspiration for his newest song. He tossed and turned in his bed every night and skipped meals because of it. He didn’t want to disappoint his fans and you, his greatest biggest fan!

But only if he knew that bringing you with him to the studio would be the cure for his lack of inspiration, he would’ve done it already days ago. Why didn’t he think of it sooner? You were his muse after all! Your moans were the greatest music to his ears!

So that’s how you ended up with Kiro pounding into you from behind tightly gripping your hair to guide your head nearer to the microphone so that every one of your whimpers could be recorded properly. 

The speed of his thrust was setting a rhythm that he wanted his new song to be in which gave him a plethora of sounds escaping your mouth. Oh how much he loved those sounds.

Gripping your hips he angled you a little more so that he could go even deeper, take you even better. He was sure he was leaving bruises on your skin with the force of his grip, but he didn’t care. He would smother them with kisses later. 

“More, Miss Chips. I wanna hear you more.” He murmured as his hand circled your waist and his fingertips pressed onto your swollen clit. If you didn’t know better, you would think that he wanted to kill you from the sheer amount of pleasure he was causing you. 

Your moans were getting higher and higher and Kiro knew it was because you were getting closer to your release. He loved that moment, right before your orgasm when your muscles were clasping around his cock trying to milk him from everything that he had, and your eyes were rolling onto the back of your head and you legs were shaking like leaves on a windy day and—

Bam bam bam

“Kiro, what are you doing in there?! Our recording session starts soon!” Savin’s voice sounded from the other side of the door and Kiro cursed under his breath that he was interrupting his own recording session.

You on the other hand squealed and tried to move away from your boyfriend but he didn’t let you.

He slowed down his thrusts and clamped a hand over your mouth.

“We’ll be there in a minute!” Kiro answered but his agent didn’t seem to be convinced because he insisted on waiting for you two at the door.

When you wanted to move away again, disappointed that you wouldn’t be getting the realest that you wanted, Kiro brought you closer to himself again and started snapping his hips into your once again. His hand still clamped tightly over your mouth. 

“Well, maybe our recording is over but we can at least finish this.”

____________________________________________________

thank you so much for reading!

if you want to read more of my works they are here

[littleoddwriter]

Hi can I request a zsasz mask x male reader where reader gets in a argument with victor and roman and reader just gets tired of their bull so he goes to get ready for his match (readers a boxer) and it's a big match for him. After being mad for a bit they go to the match and see that reader is injured really badly but keeps fighting anyway cause he's going to win no matter what.

Match | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz x Male!Reader | ZsaszMask x Male!Reader

I am so sorry it took me this long! I hope you're still interested in it and enjoy what I've done with your request! Again, I apologise for taking so long.

summary; See above.

notes; TW // Open Wounds; Blood; Fights. Brief Mention of Sex in the end. Polyamorous/-sexual relationship; Declarations of Love.

Fuming, your blood boiling under your skin, and shaking with the force of your anger and the effort of holding it back, you got ready to go out for your boxing match in an hour. You clenched your jaw, almost painfully so, as you zipped up your bag. Then you practically stomped out of your room and the penthouse, slamming the door behind yourself.

Fucking Roman and Victor.

While you got fully dressed and prepared for your match, you thought about what had gotten you so angry in the first place.

It was a stupid fight with Sionis and Zsasz.

All you did was bring to their attention that they could at least try to pay more attention to you as well, and actually show you that they liked you, that they liked having you around.

Roman flew off the handle right after it had left your lips, which wasn’t surprising, but it didn’t help your situation and only agitated you. So you yelled right back at him. Victor, always so fucking protective of Roman, got a bit physical, grabbing your wrist in a bruising tight grip glaring at you and telling you off in his deep, gravelly voice. You weren’t scared of him, though.

So you just twisted your arm out of his tight grip and shoved him, yelling at both of them now that this was exactly what you meant. They were always an item, even in a fight; they ganged up on you, instead of including and actually talking to you, instead of looking for a solution and being open for suggestions.

In a way, you wished you hadn’t brought it up at all, but it needed to be said, no matter what. You were unhappy with the way things were at the moment and you didn’t just want to break up with them over it. You loved them after all. You just wished they’d show you they loved you, too. And now you might have just ruined all chances of that. Fuck, they were probably packing your things while you were here, and throwing you out the moment you’d get back.

“Y/N, you’re up in 10,” your coach told you and you nodded.

Taking a few deep breaths, you shook your head to clear it of the fight. The match was more important now. You couldn’t let something like this ruin your chances of winning, although the anger that was still thrumming through your body might help you.

All the while, Roman and Victor have stayed home. Sionis had been blinded by rage after he’s heard you leave. He was screaming and trashing things.

Zsasz could just barely get through to him at all, breathing a quiet sigh of relief, when he finally did, holding onto Roman’s wrists and seeking intense eye contact with him, so he could bring him back to the real world, the here and now.

Breathing heavily, Roman’s face was still set in a deep scowl, frowning, his eyes piercing with anger, yet still a little glazed over from how overwhelming it was.

“Do you think he’s right, Victor?” he asked eventually, his voice broken and raw, abused from all his screaming.

“Maybe,” Zsasz conceded. He hated to think that anyone but Roman and he himself could ever be right, but he had to admit that they may have neglected you a little bit.

“Fuck.” It was weak, but carried all of Roman’s frustration nonetheless.

“We need to make it up to him. Where did he go anyway?” he continued after a short moment.

“Match. Big one tonight, remember?”

“Right, of course. Why the fuck couldn’t he have chosen any other fucking day to bring this up?”

Zsasz just shrugged, not knowing a good answer to that. While he knew Sionis better than he knew himself, Victor still struggled to get on that level with you, too.

“Whatever. Get dressed. We’re going to that match and make it up to him afterwards, ‘kay?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

When they arrived and got into the front row (thank fuck for their connections and having people naturally fear them, so that they made way), you have already been far into your match. Both of them took in the sight of you in your element.

As Roman got a better look at your front, though, he immediately grabbed onto Victor’s arm, tightly. “What the fuck?!” he muttered.

You were bleeding out of your mouth and a pretty big gash on your forehead. It was a lot of blood, too. He wondered if you had even noticed it, or if you were just too focused on winning that you didn’t take in anything but your opponent anymore. It has happened before.

“He’s going to get fucking killed if he keeps going,” Roman hissed.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s tough, you know that.”

Sionis shot Victor a piercing glare. “Yeah, and everyone has a limit, even you and me. Especially he, though! Fuck!” His grip on Zsasz’s arm only tightened, sure to leave a bruise.

“It’s not his time yet, I promise.” With that, Roman loosened his hold just slightly. He knew Victor wouldn’t ever lie to him, and he also knew that he had a very well working intuition for these things, so he believed him.

For all it was worth, Sionis knew he couldn’t stop it, anyway. You were too stubborn and determined to win; you would fight until you truly dropped dead if you had to.

Fortunately for him, another right hook from you had your opponent fall back to the ground, and not getting back up within the required 10 seconds.

You had won.

Booming loud cheers erupted around the facility. Victor and Roman cheered for you, too, while relief washed over Sionis in waves.

After a couple of minutes you were led away by your coach, back to the locker rooms. You sat down on the bench, pressing a clean towel to the gash on your forehead.

“You really need to stop doing that, Y/N,” your coach chided you.

“Yeah, yeah, next time,” you muttered.

“You’ve said that the last five times already. Get a grip on yourself, or else you can look for a different coach. I don’t want your blood on my hands, son.”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t worry. I promise it won’t happen again. Okay?”

“Fine–,” your coach probably wanted to say something else, but was interrupted by Roman and Victor coming into the room.

Wait, what the fuck were they doing here anyway?

“What the fuck,” you greeted them.

“We should be the ones saying that, Y/N,” Roman replied, frowning.

You desperately wanted to smooth out the crease between his eyebrows that had deepened significantly with his frown.

Fuck. No, you were mad at them!

“I suppose I’ll leave you alone then,” your coach said and walked out. He knew when Victor and Roman were with you, he needed to be gone.

Your eyes were fixed on Roman as he walked over and sat down next to you on the bench. Then you looked over to Zsasz, who retrieved the first aid kit from your locker and started getting out supplies to sew your wound closed.

“I thought you’d kick me out,” you near whispered in disbelief.

“What? Fuck, no!” Sionis said, looking as offended as he sounded.

Victor then sat down on your other side where your wound was and gently, yet firmly, grasped your hand and pried out the towel from your grip. Silently, he got to work, disinfecting the skin around the gash, picking out the sterilised tools and thread. Promptly, he started closing up the gash with practiced ease.

It did have some advantages to have someone like him as your boyfriend, you mused.

“Look, uh, I’m sorry for the fight. I should have known better than to- I don’t know. Bring that shit up. I knew it’d upset you.” Now that all your anger was gone, washed away by the sheer presence and treatment you were just receiving from them, you really felt a little stupid and apologetic for it all.

“It’s not your fault. You were right. We didn’t pay you enough attention and you were right to talk about it with us. Or try to, anyway. My bad for exploding like that.” Roman took one of your hands in both of his. Despite the tape and boxing gloves, your knuckles were bruised. He stroked over them with his leather-clad thumb.

“Will you promise me to change it?” you asked then, quietly, cautiously, as if afraid to destroy this dream-like moment.

“I promise to at least try, ‘kay? Is that fair enough for you?”

“Yeah, I guess. And you, Victor?”

Snipping the thread and unpacking a big band-aid to put that over the suture, Zsasz nodded. “Sure, I’ll try. Promise.” He smiled at you, crookedly, his two golden teeth glinting in the fluorescent lights of the locker room.

“Alright then,” you breathed, smiling at them both. “Thank you.”

Instead of answering, they both leaned in and kissed either of your cheeks.

“I love you guys. So much,” you chuckled.

Then you first turned to Victor and kissed him on the lips, passionately, but briefly. After that you did the same with Roman.

“We love you, too,” they said simultaneously, making all three of you laugh. It was a magical moment, really. And in the back of your head, you were a little rattled at them admitting they loved you. It was the first time they had ever uttered these words to you.

The fight between you completely forgotten now, you were only eager to get back home, shower and have make-up sex with them. Maybe even both at the same time, you smiled to yourself.

[diosefm]

THE OLD LION

when: very very late, right before the rebel announcement where: the gardens triggers: shitty dads mentions: minos valey, @virgobydcsign @pista-clearmark @deezeeashfrost​

DIOSE

She might have completely ruined the only good thing going on with her life, but at least she's got Virgo again. And she feels things are different now. There is now a silent agreement between the two. They're trusting each other now, they're actually acting like siblings. It doesn't matter if their lives are in shambles, because now they know they can both rely on each other. The newly-found softness between has been translated into physical acts. Diose and her sibling sit in the garden, Virgo's head resting on her lap as they exchange whispers and secrets. They mention Blythe, Pista. Silly yet important things. Things they couldn't discuss before. After the chaos that happened inside the main hall, Diose is at peace now. Sort of. But that's quickly ruined as she hears the familiar sound of her father's boots approaching the pair. "Virgo, we have to go."

VIRGO

They didn’t expect this to be so easy. That after everything they could go running after Diose (literally) and things would be okay. That they’re comfortable here, the delicate scent of their sister’s perfume and the way they bind her secrets to their own. Their eyes drift closed as they listen. Tiny details. Sweet, lovely things they never should’ve missed in the first place. Diose’s shift into panic and their instant understanding. 

 “No.” Virgo stiffens, surprised by their own resolve. They don’t move, their head a solid weight in Diose’s lap. “I think we should stay.” They’re tired of being scared. Shadows cast across their face as Minos comes between them and the light trickling out from the party, almost tempting them to look. Almost. His silence betrays nothing.

DIOSE

Diose has never been scared of her father. When she was younger, the older Valey idolized him, relished on the attention he gave her. While the appearance of Virgo did cause a rift between the two of them, Diose remained his favorite his favorite due to her younger's sibling inability to honor the Valey name despite being the one with actual Valey blood in their veins. As glad as that made Diose at the time, she stopped seeing her father in the same way. And now? She is not scared for her, but for Virgo. So, it's surprising that their younger sibling chooses to not flee and face him instead. Diose knows she can stand her ground when it comes to their father, but has her doubts in regards to Virgo. Still, she is no one to contradict him, so she nods and waits. 

 Despite his age, Minos Valey stills stands tall and proud. His presence is imposing, able to instill fear in the most powerful of men. Because no one can beat him, they're all below him, he's made it clear. And when he speaks, it's even worse.

"You two ought to be happy now. You've been given everything, you were set up to triumph and you've thrown all of that away in favor of playing stupid, childish games. Was your pathetic display last year not enough for you, Virgo?"

VIRGO

They’d be lying if they said they hadn’t been expecting that. Minos did well to hold his tongue this far with regards to their tragic debut. Granted, he’d made a few comments here and there over dinner, but those events had always had company and their father was cautious. Virgo finds the truth now doesn’t hurt them half as much as it ought to. The thing which does creep under their skin, unsettling what calm they’ve found with Diose, is the expectation. So much pressure to hold up archaic ideals of perfection. Being pitted against each other and then against the world because one arrogant old man believes his legacy trumps all. They didn’t ask for this. Neither of them have ever been given much choice. 

 “We haven’t thrown anything away.” Virgo cracks an eye, squinting up at their sister. Even now they look to her for guidance. “Feels like half the guests tonight are dressed in Diose, that’s huge. She’s all the style recaps are going to be talking about for weeks.” Okay, that’s maybe not quite true considering the Games really are coming. But they know their point is solid. If they had the guts to, they’d add that Diose’s work is better for the change in her. They see what she’s done for Nelly. 

 Minos’ expression is unreadable. The art of intimidation is all in the subtleties, the way he angles his chin to look down on the both of them. “What good will that do? After the display you put on for all these esteemed guests?” A weighted pause. “You mean to make a mockery of all I’ve built for you.”

DIOSE

Diose wants to tell Virgo to shut up. They've been dealing with Minos's parenting for longer than they have. They've lived with him, had his eyes follow her everywhere until she decided it was time to flee the nest. She looks down at Virgo and can only shake her head. She's thankful, really. Virgo uses their turn to speak to compliment her, help her appear like she is still flawless and can do no wrong. Maybe Minos saw her that way once, but when Diose looks at him, sees the way her father clenches his fists, she knows how he truly feels.

"Wearing your sister's designs used to mean something. I could hardly hide my disgust when I saw the kind of individuals who dared to don your sister's designs. Rejects, vagrants. People who are not up to our standard, who do not deserve to break bread with us." A pause. "Let alone sit beside you two when the eyes of the Capitol are on you two"

His words sting. They hurt because she knows he is know speaking directly to her. It's a wonder how Diose is able to lift her gaze and look him right in the eye, hand buried in Virgo's hair. "I merely stood up for myself." She does not dare to mention Pista. She doesn't need her father to think of him, have him on his sights. It'll do no good. "Should I have allowed that man to humiliate me? He is nothing but a drunk. I don't understand why you must give him such importance." As much as she hates DeeZee, mentioning his name is not an option either. Pista cares about him, obviously. She'll protect him this one time. Not that his father can't figure out who is who. Diose just wants to direct his attention somewhere else.

"You're pathetic. Both of you are. Pathetic children tainting my hard work, embarrassing me in front of my colleagues. That is not the way we do things, Diose. Discretion is of utmost importance when dealing with vermin."

VIRGO

Virgo may have taken their father’s chastisement with relative ease (at least the won’t think too hard on it until later) but the way he speaks of Diose boils their blood. They think she’s done the right thing in extending her gift to the people they want to call friends. Nelly looks beautiful; Pista is worlds away from toiling over trains. Just because they aren’t Capitol penthouse elite doesn’t mean they shouldn’t get to share in their sister’s perfection. Diose is showing a side of herself they’ve admired for years now, the one she likes to pretend doesn’t exist: true kindness. 

 “It means more now,” they say, softly. Virgo wishes they’d been bold enough to swallow their anguish and ask Diose to dress them, too. The point doesn’t hit as hard when they’d deflected elsewhere. “Weddings are supposed to be about unity. That’s what Diose is showing, collaborating with the people who worked harder than all of us to be here. Not vermin, victors.” 

 Virgo wants to cringe at how pretentious, how idealistic, they sound. Words influenced by the low-budget dramas they love so much but can’t quite capture the heroism of. Speeches aren’t their strong suit. They reach up to squeeze Diose’s arm, gentle reassurance that they’re on her side. After all that she’s shared with them they need her to know they’re on her side. No matter what they say, they know neither would get through to Minos alone. Chances they’ll do it together aren’t great either. 

”Save your excuses. You ought to know better than to stoop to their level. Don’t you realize the damage you’ve done? It’s clear all those years of education were put to waste if you can’t outsmart that halfwit.”

DIOSE

Diose's night has been absolutely terrible, but she finds solace in the fact that Virgo and her are closer than ever. Still, Diose wants nothing more than to put her hand over Virgo's mouth and keep them from talking. She appreciates their words, she really does, but the last thing both of they need is to provoke their father. Diose knows very well what he is capable of when he is upset and she doesn't want her father to target Pista or Nelly. "He provoked me, and I'm your daughter. Should you not be on my side?" But she knows better than that, knows her father is only on the side or those who are winning. With Diose being the laughingstock of the night, she knows the only support she has right now is Virgo's.

"Unity? The only people that you should be concerned about are your family. Your sister's designs are now almost as worthless as yours. Do you not care about my legacy, or your mother's? I knew she spoiled you too much. You're soft. It's sickening. I won't be on your side nor your sister's when you two are determined to spend your time surrounded by people below us. I've had my eyes on both of you all night. Have you forgotten whose blood runs through your veins? That woman you're with has done nothing but spit on your family's work for years."

She feels her father's insults will sting more now that they're getting personal. Diose is certain she can handle at least some of his poison with the help of her remaining grace and poise, but it's Virgo she is worried about. Father is right, they are softer than any other member of their family.

VIRGO

Their father’s words begin to fall on deaf ears. If they’re being honest, they don’t fully understand the concept of a legacy. They’ve heard the word thrown around so carelessly their entire lives that it’s begun to lose all meaning, absent the ambition they’re sure it’s supposed to ignite in them. With Diose, they can see how someone might pin their hopes on her to make them proud. They don’t give themselves the same credit—and for good reason. All the time and money in the world wasn’t enough for Ma to make them who she wanted them to be, a fact she’s begrudgingly accepted. Virgo isn’t surprised to learn their father can’t handle that.

 Virgo’s eyes widen and they push to sitting, angled instinctively toward Diose.  As if they’d stand a chance at sparing either of them this lecture. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” they snap. The tangled mess of rage, and pain, and fear they’ve tended since the hijack flares once again. “That’s—it’s— nothing to do with you.”

“Everything you do, either of you, reflects upon my name. There are eyes everywhere, children, do not think that any of your pathetic attempts at stealth render them blind. Money won’t buy their silence forever. What do you think happens when people begin to question why my daughter has been seen cavorting with some middle-district victor? When they question our loyalties?"

DIOSE

Instinctively, Diose grabs Virgo's hands. For support, and in case she needs to squeeze it so let them know it's time to shut up. Their father isn't the one to give up. And the angrier they make him, the worse the consequences will be. As much as she'd like to properly fight the man and get rid of him at once, Diose still needs him. And he is too powerful. And maybe, she is scared, fearful of what the man could do to her since she's not his blood. Both of her parents have always emphasized how powerful Valey blood is and how lucky she is that they rescued her from Ten. She doesn't doubt her father would be quick to turn on her now that his brainwashing has stopped working on her. Virgo is his biological child, which she sees as an advantage over her.

He says eyes are everywhere and Diose feels like throwing up. She knows this, obviously. Both Virgo and her do as they've been confronted with footage of their wrongdoings before. It was easy to deal with it back then just because Pista wasn't involved. Diose can only guess Virgo feels the same way given how protective they've been of their crush for months. "My loyalties are in the right place. Can you say the same, father? You seem to be losing allies while we've gained new ones. Regardless of who they are, you have always said there is strength in number, have you not?" It's a stupidly dangerous reply, but she is tired and won't have him hurt Pista. Her own self is fair game, but he is out of the question.

"Alliance?" An horrid, sarcastic chuckle fills the air. "Clearly your mother didn't do a proper job teaching you where your priorities should be. And you," he turns towards Virgo, eyes filled with rage. "It has everything to do with me. Defy me again and not even your mother will be able to save you from my rage. Neither will your sister or the fools you two have been sharing your time and beds with."

-------------------------------

We are headcanoning the rest because writing that man is exhausting, so bear with us.

Virgo and Diose continue arguing with their father. To give y'all some context, Minos keeps blackmail worthy footage of his kids. He is a producer and in charge of the propaganda you see everywhere, so he is omniscient. He has done this since they were both children and hasn't stopped. If anything, he has more of a reason to keep tabs on them now. He continues berating them about their recent choices and who they let his friends and colleagues see them with. By now it is pretty obvious Blythe and Pista are on his shitlist and he doesn't want them near his children. But do Virgo and Diose care? No.

When he implies he intends knows more than be is letting them know, the Valey siblings rightfully start worrying since if the man has managed to acquire footage of them on the trains, they're fucked. Diose is able to pretend she still has everything under control, but Virgo starts shaking.

Anyway, Minos grabs both Diose and Virgo and drags them towards the main hall. His intention is to take them home so he can fully unleash his fury without anyone seeing him, but Virgo and Diose are saved by the bell. Well, the rebel announcement. Everything is chaos. Virgo completely freezes. It reminds them of past announcements so they don't even react. Thankfully they got Diose who as we know is quick on her feet so she takes advantage of their circumstances, grabs Virgo, and heads straight towards her suite.

The spent the rest of the night having what is probably the most fucked up sleepover party you could ever imagine. Dioses tries her best to comfort Virgo while Virgo tries to fix Diose's cheek but they're both in such a weird state of mind they just stay up talking until they're so exhausted they pass out on Diose's bed.

[apocalypsewriters]

Not-a-Damsel in Distress: Hallway Edition

Summary: Victor-Hecate's first public short story! Their many protective layers concealed too many features, so a patrolling teacher hehe that rhymed decided to lecture them on it and subsequently put them in danger. A somewhat mysterious girl (Aster @pagesofcursive character) comes to the rescue, which may lead them back to a path they abandoned long ago for the safety of them and the mental peace of those around them.

“Miss Ernesh!” The teacher’s voice rang out across the hallway.

Victor-Hecate Ernesh jumped, their head halfway in their locker. Sighing, they tugged at their scarf, one of the many layers of clothing they wore, and closed their locker. “Yes?” they answered, their voice muffled by the cream bandana they wore.

Coldly, the teacher demanded, “Take off all those… accessories. You know the school policy.”

Victor-Hecate said nothing and began unwrapping their copious layers of clothing. Under the severe gaze of the teacher, they shrugged off the overcoat and laid it on the tiled floor, grimacing at the thought of all the grime from day to day usage getting on the soft leather. They tugged off their grey beanie, a mop of tightly coiled chocolate brown curls spilling out and hanging halo-like around their head. After trying and failing to unwrap their scarf, they tugged off their treasured gloves and added them to the slowly growing pile at their knees.

“Hey!” a voice echoed sharply from one of the nearby lockers.

A pale girl stormed over, her dark, choppily cut, chin-length hair framing her face. A scar traced down the left side of her face, through her eyebrow to halfway down her cheek. Her dark clothing contrasted starkly with her fierce blue eyes. Victor-Hecate’s eyes widened at the impressive figure she cut; they’d heard of her before - Aster had dated Dawn, one of the more popular girls in schools, and was in and out of detention so often, no one could keep track of her misdeeds. “Can’t you see they’re obviously uncomfortable? Why can’t they just wear what they want?” Aster’s icy tone matched the teacher’s.

The teacher raised an eyebrow at the fuming girl. “She wasn’t adhering to the dress code, so she had to change. And frankly, it’s none of your business, so resume getting ready for class.”

Victor-Hecate turned back to their pile of clothing, their spirits lifted a little - they’d finally managed to unknot their scarf, and someone was trying to stand up for them. They stole another look at the girl, who rolled her eyes at the teacher. Stealing a hidden smirk, they got to work untying their bandana, which had gotten caught in their short hair.

“Dress code is stupid anyway,” she snapped, her eyes blazing brighter than before, and she narrowed them at the teacher. “Are their clothes personally bothering you? Because I don’t see how a few extra layers do anything but help them feel comfortable.”

The teacher’s visage grew haughty at the fiery girl’s insolence. “It’s a matter of security. It is hard to identify the student, and he or she could be smuggling something,” the teacher said snidely.

“A matter of security?” she said with a snicker. “Did you know that four of the doors leading into the school and the front gate all have broken locks? There are malfunctioning cameras everywhere, and at least half the windows are cracked. Why don’t you focus on those instead of targeting an innocent student?” As Victor-Hecate ripped their ashamed gaze from the pile of clothing on the floor, they caught a flash of fire curling around Aster’s fist. 

“Mind your tone, young lady,” snapped the teacher.

Finally, Victor-Hecate plucked up the courage to say something. Apparently, their mumble was inaudible to the pair standing above them, as the teacher abruptly asked, “What was that?”

They swallowed and tried to muster up their drive once again. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s fine, really.”

The teacher turned and smugly addressed Aster, who was still standing there, boiling with barely checked rage. “You see?”

Aster’s voice hardened, her eyes growing steely as she reeled back her temper. “You’re terrifying them, do you see that? Although I’m sure that during the dark ages, when you first became a teacher, it was fine to mistreat students, but it’s a different time now.” If looks could kill, the teacher would be dead on the floor. Rolling her eyes once again as the teacher opened her mouth, she quickly said, “Just let them go the rest of the day with the layers they’re comfortable with, and then I’ll help them figure out a new wardrobe after school.”

The teacher huffed before stalking off down the hallway, leaving the pair alone in front of the lockers. Victor-Hecate spoke up again, their voice filling the silence that now permeated the area, “Thank you. That was really brave. I would never be able to do that.” Their cheeks rushed with blood, giving them the color they desperately needed.

Aster’s expression softened a little. “It’s no problem. I hate when teachers do stuff like that.” She paused for a moment. “Hey, do I know you? You look familiar.”

They shrugged, “Maybe. But probably not. I don’t know a lot of people, and as you can see,” they said, gesturing to their backpack, which was bursting at the seams with their shredded layers, “I don’t show a lot of features. But I know you, though.” Victor-Hecate paused, doubting their previous observation. “You’re Aster, right? You’ve caused quite a stir at school. Even I noticed.”

Aster let out a laugh, her features alight with memories of mischief. “Yeah, that’s what I’m known for. What’s your name again?”

Victor-Hecate smarted, startled by the question. “Sorry about that. I’m not really used to people asking me. I’m pretty good at fading into the background.” They smiled weakly, pulling on their backpack. “I’m Victor-Hecate. Take your pick of nicknames; I don’t mind. It’s a bit of a mouthful, I know.” Once again, they wished they didn’t have their powers, or at the very least, were wearing gloves – this seemed like a situation that needed a handshake. Memories of normal greetings, normal interactions with people had faded over the six years of having powers.

“Well, Victor-Hecate,” Aster said, nudging them. They stiffened at the contact, preparing themself for pain, but none came. Thankfully, Aster hadn’t managed to brush any skin. “I think you’re pretty cool. And I’m sure I know someone in your family- any siblings at this school?”

“Thanks. My cousin goes here, actually. You’ve probably heard of her; she’s pretty popular. Violetta?”

Aster’s eyes widened for a moment, a slight blush rushing into her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “Oh. That explains things then. She’s in a bunch of my classes.” She chuckled. “I don’t know if she mentioned, but we kinda have a rivalry going on.”

Victor-Hecate shook their head sadly. “I don’t see her that much. We don’t run in the same circles. Like I said, I don’t know a lot of people.” They shuffled their feet awkwardly, tugging at the sleeves of their light green turtleneck. “Thanks again for rescuing me.” They started walking away, leaving Aster behind, still a little flushed.

“Well, tell her I said hi, I guess.” Her face went red again as they stopped, just shy of a chewed pencil that lay unseen one pace away from the tips of Victor-Hecate’s grey converse. Aster’s hair bounced slightly as she shook her head quickly. “Actually, don’t.”

Victor-Hecate twisted around, taking two steps towards the darkly dressed girl, raising their eyebrows, a smirk spreading on their face. “So, don’t tell her you say hi?”

Aster avoided their eyes, somehow blushing brighter. “Just ignore all of that. Uh, so am I coming over to your house to help you pick out new clothes, or did I straight up lie to that jerk of a teacher?” Fire licked out from her fists at the memory of the argument.

“You can if you want to. But I’d understand if you don’t. I’m not the most sociable person,” their smile faded.

“No, no,” Aster reassured. “I would love to hang out.”

Victor-Hecate brightened, “Awesome. Here.” They swung their bag around and fished in a pocket, searching for stationary. After a few agonizing moments of scrambling, they pulled out a pen and paper. “Write down your number so we can organize this later.”

Aster stretched out a hand. As soon as her fingers brushed the paper, they let go. The pen clattered to the floor, the paper drifting to the rest moments later. Victor-Hecate shot Aster an apologetic look as she bent to pick up the fallen materials. Aster leaned against the lockers, writing out her phone number in chicken scratch, the numbers barely legible. Stopping for a brief moment partway through writing, she aggressively shook the pen, which revolted at being used sideways. Handing back the paper, Aster blinked as the other student snatched the paper out of her hands. Victor-Hecate cringed at the situation, worried their fear was warping another potential relationship.

“Well, text me then,” Aster said, thankfully not mentioning Victor-Hecate’s odd mannerisms.

“Thanks! I will” They turned and started walking away. Suddenly, their foot slid out from underneath them, a pencil flying up in the air – the culprit of the tumble. They fell to the ground, hard, their wrists smacking against the grimy tiled floor. Anyone else would have let out a cry or grimaced at the fall, but Victor-Hecate’s high pain tolerance allowed them to brush off the injury.

“Here, let me help.” Too late, they heard Aster walk up to them, her boots clumping across the floor, and grab their hands to try to pull them up. Pain bloomed in their abdomen, their eyes flashed black as their power flared up. They snatched their hands away, falling once more to the floor. They curled into the fetal position, wrapping their arms around their middle as the phantom wound lingered. By their best guess, it would be a knife wound- and an ugly one at that. They let out a whimper as the pain surged. Finally, finally, it faded, allowing Victor-Hecate to recover and sit up.

Their voice was strained, “I’m good, but thanks.”

“Are you okay? What happened?” Concern was etched on Aster’s face.

Hauling themself to their feet, they replied, “My awful power happened.” They wilted at the worry, the pity on Aster’s face. It always happened. They were maybe, finally, respected as a person, a whole person without issues. And then, inevitably, their power surfaced and put them below everyone else again. They hated feeling weak, but the only thing worse than the pain was the looks they got. No one ever saw them as competent after witnessing a breakdown. Victor-Hecate watched curiosity light in Aster’s eyes. Maybe pity wasn’t the worst. They dreaded her horrified reaction to the reveal of the morbid powers they never wished for.

“Oh, uh- what’s your power then?” The question spilled out of Aster’s lips.

Straightening their backpack, they muttered, “I’m so sorry for the way you go out.” They brushed themself off, relishing in the final moments of ignorance before horror soured the air. Clearing their throat awkwardly, they explained, “Whenever I touch someone, I feel the pain of their death.”

With their gaze fixed on the floor, they didn’t see Aster backing up, but they heard it; her black leather boots squeaked twice on the tiles before her hand pressed against a locker, the metal letting out a crack as it warped under her weight. They imagined the shock on her face, just like the dozens before her. “I- What hap- No, I don’t want to know. Is that why...?” She stammered before trailing off.

Victor-Hecate's shoulders tightened from their slumped position. They were distraught but tried not to show it. “Yeah. That’s why I wear so much clothing - to cover any skin.” Swallowing back tears, they knelt back on the ground and pulled a jacket out from their bag. They slipped it on, jamming their thumbs in the holes by the base of the sleeves and zipping it up as quickly as possible. They forced themself to meet Aster’s gaze before continuing, “If you don’t want to come over, I understand. Nothing like a stranger knowing how you die.”

Aster chuckled weakly, the shock slowly fading from her face. “No, no, it’s- it’s okay.” She smiled at Victor-Hecate, who stood, shell-shocked in front of her. “And, exactly, I’d rather a friend know how I die compared to a random stranger. So, I’m still welcome to come?”

“Oh,” they said, caught off guard. “Of course.” The words were quiet, not quite out loud, but not quite to themself either. “I’d love that.” The pair stood in silence for a few moments before Victor-Hecate piped up, “Just, be careful around knives, okay?”

Aster’s jaw dropped at the statement. It hung open for two counts before snapping shut. “I’ll do my best. See you after school.”

“Yeah,” they said, perking up at the prospect, “Yeah…” As they made their way down the hallway, making a point to avoid the pencil, which sat innocently three feet from where it had been five minutes earlier.

Aster laughed under her breath, before starting on her own way in the opposite direction of Victor-Hecate, who now almost had a spring in their step. That day, they counted down the hours left of school for a completely different reason from their classmates. The only time the wait slipped their mind was lunch – they pulled out their phone, pulling up the number of a person they hadn’t talked to face to face for a long time.

[zodiyack]

Trust Me

Requested by Anon: Can I make a request for a fic? I have this Idea where the reader was one of Bruce Wayne’s adopted teenagers but she hates Bruce so she runs away. She and Roman fall in love so she asks him to torture Bruce for her.

Pairing: Roman Sionis x Wayne!reader

Warnings: Mention of running away, torture/murder mention, fluff, swearing, suggestive word, random story that I’ll try to improve sometime

Key: Y/f/n = Your friend’s name

Note: I started out this story, thinking I knew what I was doing- but it turns out starting a story, sleeping, and then continuing the story just messes up your thought process- Also title doesn’t make sense, but yeeee

Taglist: @stardancerluv​ @matth1w​

Masterlist

Trust was not her greatest quality. In fact, she didn’t have much of it. Her adopted father was one of the reasons it shattered so quickly. When she was just fourteen, she cared for and loved the kids in the Wayne house, she loved Bruce Wayne, looked up to him just as a child would to their parent.

But the happy reality didn’t last long. It wasn’t so much of a reality as it was a dream. She discovered it on her own. At the age of seventeen. The batcave, her father’s secrets. What would happen to those kids if he died? A lot. What would happen to those kids if someone figured out his real identity? A lot.

That, sadly, was not the only problem. Sure, the children’s life could potentially one day be in danger, but the fact that he hid it and lashed out at Y/n for finding out was the final straw. He never apologized. She gave him an entire month but the silent treatment and the dirty looks finished it for her. If he was gonna act that way, she could to.

Over the next month, she grew to hate him. Her blood boiled at the thought of him. How he was willing to put the children’s life on the line and how he was so rude and ignorant to Y/n. She had enough and finally, she ran away.

Now, many years later, she was twenty-four and working at a place that was half bar half cafe. The easiest job she could get, plus she started working after she ran away. They hired her in the cafe side until she turned twenty-one, which allowed her to work in both parts.

Her shift was over and some friends she made at the job asked her if she wanted to go have some fun, to which she responded, yes. So they went.

Y/n’s friend spoke strongly about some place called The Black Mask, so of course that���s where they went. The doors opened and a woman on stage stopped singing.

“Fuck-” They just intruded on a rehearsal.

“We’re so sorry, we thought it was open. My bad, I told them about this place and I was really eager to s-”

A man stepped forward and smiled, opening his arms as a welcoming. “No, no worries, it’s quite alright. We are open, just letting her try some new songs while the company is still pretty low. No one has been interrupted, so feel free to stay.” His eyes scanned the group, spotting Y/n. “You- what’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n uh...L/n. And you are?”

“The owner. Roman Sionis. Have you not heard of me?” He walked over to her and grabbed her hand, lifting it and kissing it softly. She blushed and shook her head, averting her gaze from his intense and lustful eye contact. “Ah, how unfortunate. Would you care to sit with me?”

“Sure...can they come too?”

“Ehh...I suppose. But it’s you I’m interested in.” He grabbed her hand and led her up to his spot, sitting down and grabbing his drink. Roman didn’t know why, but she just grabbed his attention. Right of the bat, he wanted to know everything about her. He craved her.

The night went well, and they exchanged numbers. She kept returning, sometimes with and and sometimes without her friends. Roman was this mysterious man who made her go wild. He made her heart skip a beat. She had no clue to why or how, until her friend said the one thing she never thought of.

“You idiot, you’re in love with him! And if you used your fucking eyes, you’d see he’s in love with you too!”

Over some time, she took her friend’s words to heart and confronted him at the club. She’d been there many times, too many to count, so she shouldn’t have been this nervous to talk to Roman. But she was. As she walked over to him and sat next to him, as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, as he looked into her eyes...she swore she had butterflies, no, not butterflies, but giants. Giants in her stomach.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Roman squeezed her shoulder and chuckled. He was poking at her distance, the way she didn’t speak as much and the way she zoned out often. She just seemed...absent.

“R-Roman. I need to talk to you...alone.”

Zsasz “Whatever you have to say to him, you can say in front of m-”

“Leave us, Victor. Take them with you too.” Victor halted, hesitating as if waiting for Roman to crack up into laughter and say he was kidding. It wasn’t the best choice, knowing Roman. “I said go!”

Victor and the men Roman was referencing scrambled up and left as quick as they could, leaving Y/n and Roman by themselves. He let out a heavy sigh of annoyance and turned to face Y/n better. He lifted her hand and kissed it softly.

“Roman...I don’t want this to change our relationship, ya know, since we’ve already become great friends...but...”

He pushed some of her hair behind her ear, smiling at her shyness. “Whatever seems to be the problem?”

“Roman. I think I’m in love with you.”

The man stopped and took a second. His face contorted a couple times, showing that he was in thought. He mumbled some stuff under his breath and then smiled. “I’m glad to know you feel the same way L/n. But the question is, do you think, or do you know?”

“I- ...I know. I know I’m in love with you.”

No response came from him until he leaned forward quickly and smashed his lips into hers. Y/n could’ve sworn she felt fireworks, and unknown to her, Roman had the same feeling. She stayed by him that night, discussing what was going to happen.

Months passed, the couple grew closer. She ended up quitting her job and moving in with him after some time. It wasn’t rushed, and Roman didn’t force her, she took her time and Roman was pleased. Y/n learned about his secret side later on, and he was the one who told her.

Just the mere fact that he chose to tell her rather than keeping it a secret, made her smile and filled her heart like she was falling even more in love with him. However, it also reminded her of someone. Roman, just as he noticed her distance before she confessed, noticed her sadness, no matter how well it was hidden. He tried everything to get her to speak, only proving successful when she gave into her pain.

“It isn’t completely true, that my last name is L/n.”

“It isn’t? Have you been married?”

“No...I was a Wayne for some time... I believe 4 years to be exact...”

Roman paused, confused and a bit jealous. “A Wayne? You were involved with Bruce Wayne?”

“No! God no! He...he adopted me when I was fourteen. Took me in, all that stuff...sadly, he only did one thing. Made my trust become my worst quality. I ran away. I couldn’t handle all of the trust that had been broken.”

Roman didn’t know what to say. Normally, he would go out and murder the person who caused his Y/n pain, but seeing as she was still hurting in that second, something needed to be done to comfort her. “W-what can I do?”

She cuddled into his side and sobbed quietly. “You k-know what you can do? What you can do, is what you do for your job. Torture him. Torture the fuck out of him so he can see what a fucking ass he is! Maybe then, he’d actually speak to me like I’m a fucking human.” Y/n sobbed even harder into his shoulder when she finished her rant. Hearing how much Bruce had pained her made Roman want to do exactly what Y/n asked...and more.

He planned it all out. Called over a group to kidnap Bruce and set up his idea of having Y/n get some revenge. He talked to her about it, and he told her that she didn’t have to if she didn’t want to, but this idea was one of the best she’d ever heard.

So there. There Bruce Wayne was, hanging upside down and looking as confused as ever. The confusion intensified when he saw Y/n and Roman walking over to him. A man ripped the tape off his mouth.

“Y/n? Is that really you? What happened? I thought you died-”

“Tut tut tut. You don’t get to speak to her. You lied to her, hurt her, broke her trust, and when she ran away, did you send anyone to look for her?” Bruce stayed silent. Roman’s breathing started to grow heavy, “I asked you a question! Did you fucking look for her!?”

“No.”

“And why not?!”

“Because I... I don’t know.”

Roman walked around Bruce. He stopped in front of him and crouched. “Look at you, so helpless. How do you think Y/n felt when you ignored her?”

“Y/n...I didn’t mean it. I was a bad parent, please, come back home. I’m sorry.” Bruce ignored Roman and moved his head to the side slightly. Roman rolled his eyes and moved in front of his view again.

“You’re sorry? Look at her! You hurt her! You broke one of the most important things to her! Do you know what that is!? Huh!? Tell me, what do you think you broke in her?”

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. He closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t know, and he didn’t think he would ever know. All he knew about the topic, was that he hurt Y/n a lot. He hurt her to the point where she ran away, and when he didn’t look for her, it hurt her even more.

Roman grunted angerly and punched Bruce in the nose. Y/n smiled and walked up behind her lover, crouching down with him and kissing his cheek. She looked back at Bruce and clenched her jaw, the hatred and memories finding their way to her brain just by looking at him.

“You broke my trust. Wayne. You brutally smashed it into a million pieces. So, my amazing boyfriend, who actually gives two shits about me, is going to be um...well returning the favor, but to whatever limbs or parts of your body he desires. Now, with that said, goodbye, father.”

She turned and walked away. Once she was out of the room, Roman turned back to Bruce and smiled. “Oh boy, we’re gonna have a lot of fun, aren’t we, Mr. Wayne?” He aimed his fist and swung.

[thesculptedflower]

Blue Velvet / Chapter 7

HI! Sorry I was gone, had some work to do before actually getting back to work. I’m so happy that this horrible situation is slowly getting better. That said, I want all of you that are affected by the protests and the horrible stuff happening in the States, to stay safe. I’m always here if you guys need someone to talk to. 

Chapter 7

Oswald was exceptionally good at lying and hiding his real intentions. He had managed to work for both Don Maroni and Don Falcone at the same time, for quite some time, before Maroni got onto his trail. So when Ed or Y/N would ask if everything was alright, he didn’t have trouble lying to their faces. He could tolerate them when he was alone with one of them, but whenever they happened to be at the same room, he could feel his blood boil. He was so confused, and so angry about the whole situation, cursing the world for tormenting him like this. All he ever wanted, was to feel loved by Ed, but he had to lose him to the one person he cared for most. To her. 

All the days Oswald spent alone with Ed, felt like pure bliss to him. Having Ed’s concentration only in him made him feel like there was hope, he could forget what he saw. But every time Ed’s phone would ring or light up with a notification, he could feel his heart break over and over again. Seeing Ed smile so happily at the screen, at the texts she would send him. He wanted to feel happy for them, but the feelings he had for Ed, were too strong. 

The days spent with Y/N, on the other hand, were agonizing. He felt more and more angry whenever she sang, imagining how she would sing to Ed when they were alone. He knew these thoughts were toxic, but he couldn’t help himself. The love he had for her, was slowly turning to hatred, no matter how hard he tried to stop himself. Then one day, he saw them once again together. Embracing each other on the back stage, hidden from curious eyes. Something snapped in him and he decided, that the songbird he once loved so dearly, had sang her last song.

*

’’Where are we going again?’’ Y/N asked, watching the quiet streets of Gotham go past as they drove in the city. 

’’You’ll see soon enough.’’ Oswald replied, smiling excitedly.

He felt anxious. He had spent time planning this, but in the moment everything felt so real, too real. He could still turn back. He quickly glanced at her, she looked happy and excited to be there with him. She wasn’t showing any malice or hatred towards him, and he hated it. It made him feel bad about his plans.

’’Here we are.’’

They stopped in front of an old theatre. It had surely seen better days, but with some renovations and a new coat of paint, it would be as good as new.

’’You bought a theatre!’’ Y/N exclaimed, taking in all the details of the charming building. 

Oswald couldn’t help but smile, watching her be excited over an old building. Y/N had changed so much from the person she was before the attack on Cobblepot manor, but she still had that same excitement for performing and expressing herself through singing. He felt a tear roll down his cheek but quickly wiped it away.

’’Come, let’s go see the inside.’’

The interior of the theatre was old, as expected. Covers on the seats were dusty and some broken, the chandelier would drop down any minute and the up stairs railing had come down long ago. 

’’With some paint and new fabrics, it’ll be amazing.’’ Y/N said, running her hand over the seats as she made her way to the stage. Oswald followed her. 

’’I think this will be even better than The Osw-.’’

She was just turning to face him, when a gun shot echoed through the empty theatre. Oswald was aiming his gun at her, his eyes filled with tears. Y/N could feel burning in her abdomen. She placed her hand on her stomach, feeling the warm liquid on her clothes. When she looked down, her hand was covered in blood. 

She was speechless. She had an idea what all this was about, but she couldn’t believe he would just shoot her. 

’’Why, Oswald?’’ She asked, tears streaming down her face, from the pain and the heartbreak. 

’’You betrayed me. I told you about my love for Ed and you still had to have him!’’ He shouted, now crying as well. He was sad that he had to do this to her, but in his mind, he didn’t have a choice. If he couldn’t have Ed, neither could she. 

Y/N tried to take a step towards Oswald, but he pulled the trigger again, hitting her shoulder. The tears were affecting his aim. The second bullet forced Y/N to her knees, howling in pain. Her heartbreak was quickly turning to anger, but she refused to pull her gun out. If she survived this, she would get revenge other way. 

She took a few deep breaths before speaking.

’’You lost him for good with the first bullet you shot in me.’’

The pain was getting the best of her, forcing her to fall down to her back. Her shoulder and stomach were bleeding dangerously, but she had a petty smile on her lips.

’’He will never love you.’’

A third shot, to her leg, finally made her unconscious. Oswald turned around and left her to die alone, bleeding on the stage of the run-down theatre. 

* * * * * * * * * * *

Despite the three wounds she had, she still had some life in her. She woke up coughing up blood, her whole body in almost unbearable pain. She needed to call for help. Ed wasn’t an option, he would be with Oswald and she was too scared for what might happen if Oswald found out she was still alive. There weren’t many who could help her, so she needed to take a risk. Worst case scenario, she would get shot fatally, but she had hope this man would care enough to break his loyalty. 

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and send a text including her location and a word ’help’. She rested her head down and waited. 

Not too long after, she could hear someone busting through the front doors. She lifted herself up enough to lean back on her elbow, and pulled her gun out with her other hand, just in case. She let out a small breath of relief when she saw Victor running towards her with both of his guns ready. ’’There’s nobody in here anymore, you don’t need those.’’ She groaned as she put her gun down and tried to sit up.

Victor kneeled down next to her, checking her wounds. His face was full of concern and anger. He still had underlying feelings for her, which he hid even from himself. 

’’Yeah, we ain’t fixing these here. I need proper tools.’’ He said sternly, picking her up from the ground. The movement made her scream, pain shooting through her whole body. Victors face grew more stern as her state got worse. 

’’Take me to Ed’s, he has everything you need.’’ 

Victor looked at her, questioning her choices, but obeyed anyway. He got her to the back of his car and started driving. He was glancing at her through the rearview mirror very often, making sure she was still alive. Fortunately the drive was short, and in no time she was lying on Ed’s dinner table in her underwear, ready for Victor to remove the bullets. 

’’You want to talk while I do this, might help.’’ Victor asked, sitting down next to her stomach. There were only two bullets in her, for the one had gone through her shoulder. 

’’Shut the fuck up and just do it.’’ She hissed, trying to calm herself down. There was no time for any anaesthesia. Victor nodded and pressed the tweezers in the wound. 

After an hour of immense pain and bandaging, he was done. The bullets were out and the wounds were stitched and covered. Y/N was extremely weak, barely able to stay awake. Victor carried her to Ed’s bed and sat next to her.

’’Who did this to you?’’

’’Oswald.’’

[nikkyshows]

Day Twelve: Burn

Hey! I feel bad for this, but I’m gonna be honest. Life is getting unexpectedly busy this month and I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep up creatober every day. I’ll try my hardest, but, I can’t promise anything. Don’t hate me if I start missing days.

Also I’m running into this lovely problem where I don’t want to write prompts and I want to flesh these worlds out. Warnings for burning and slight gore.

*****

“You are frog-brained,” Nikela says as she shoves the knight down into a log and begins working on undoing his armor.

He winces as he gapes, arms trying to bat her away. She doesn’t let him. “What—”

“We—” she unties the leather of his chest piece with a little too much effort, causing him to grunt, “are a team. You don’t wander off to clear out a town of Kiput guards. We’re supposed to help each other.”

She manages to get his chest bare, fully exposing the cut marring his side, long and deep. Out of what Falli can heal with herbs and chants and divinity.

She’ll have to deal with this herself.

She brushes the edge with her fingers and he jerks away. “If you’d brought us along, this wouldn’t have happened.” She frowns at the cut and glances up at him. “I don’t care what the prophecy says about you being an all-slaying hero.”

Fire lights on her fingers.

“What are you doing?” His eyes are wide and now he looks the young age he is. He seems older in the worn leather, armed with his sword, leading them through the empire. He’s younger then most of them, though, and it’s showing. “Aren’t you going to call Falli?”

“No. This needs more immediate care.” She puts more energy into the fire, so it encases her hand, and she presses it to his side.

He screams.

His skin bubbles under her, blood boiling as the wound seals itself shut. He’s thrashing under her, and her other hand is on his stomach, pinning him with force so she doesn’t burn anything she doesn’t have to. She slides it down the full length and again once more to be safe.

She pulls away with bits of blood and flesh stuck to her palm. She flicks them off. “Falli will be back from town soon. She’ll have something for the pain.” She stands and mentally routes a path to the stream so she can wash her hands and rid her mind of the feeling. “Don’t do something like that again. We can’t afford to have you die.”

He’s the one prophesied to free them, after all.

There were no back-ups to a seer’s prophetic hero. No back up plans. Just the one boy and the one chance.

He’s breathing heavy, hand hovering protectively over his wound. He looks scandalized as he stares at her. Like she’d disrobed him for pleasure instead of aiding with his wound.

She tilts her head, twists her lips to hold back the icky feeling in the back of her throat, bile rising. “What? Did you think my fire was all destruction and pain?”

“It’s fire,” he says.

“It’s warmth. And if I hadn’t done that, you’d have bled out before the others got back.” She turns to leave but pauses. They were on the outskirts of forest and she was the only one present. “I’ll help you get back to camp. It’s not far.”

She can handle waiting to wash herself. The memory of his skin bubbling under her hand would remain after she wet them with icy water, so what was the rush?

She swallows the lump in her throat as she helps their hopeless savior up and limps with him to camp.

He’s been a hindrance so far. Self-sacrificing. He’s smart, but he’s also developing an ego. Thinks that he’s infallible because he’s propheted to take back their kingdom from the invasion.

Hopefully today has taught him otherwise.

He’s not their guaranteed victor. He can fail and they can all lose. But he is their only chance at unshackling their empire from the neighboring kingdom. The only one who can wield the goddess-forged sword with his skin intact.

He will save them, or he will be the face of their failure.

[elodiegarner]

ELODIE CAMILLE GARNER  ⁏  thirty-three  ○  investigative journalist for crystal city times  ○  mystic point.

❝ WATCH YOUR TOUNGE AROUND HER. SHE WILL BEAR HER FANGS AND TEAR YOU APART WITH ALL THE GRACE OF A QUEEN. ❞

⇨  aesthetics ⍮ dresses of black lace and velvet, the scent of chanel perfume lingering in the air as she floats past, blood-red fingertips coiled around the grip of a fountain pen, red-bottomed heels clicking against marble floors, rose gold highlighter shimmering along the height of prominent cheekbones, a svelte frame that is shrouded in an air of mystery and intrigue, peach roses in a vase on the window sill, a sense of freedom and carelessness when dancing, deft fingers stained with charcoal and oil paint, the melodic chime of piano keys, delicate digits adorned with moonstone gem rings, a coy smile spread across full rose lips, long chocolate locks blowing in the cool breeze of a summer’s evening, battered books with dog-eared pages, the silvery glint of old scar tissue, ripped leather jackets and worn jeans, & ribbed turtlenecks.

HEYOOO !! s’up buttercups ?? ‘tis i, your friendly neighbourhood loser chrissie, and i’m super duper excited to be here among all you fab human beings !! this here is my precious bby angel elodie and i adore her with my whole entire being. she’s a rather feisty, sassy ball of curiosity and mild rage, oop ?? excuse her blunt nature ; she’s a genuine softy deep down inside. she’s sassy, classy and a lil badassy. also beauty, grace, will punch you in the face. plot-wise, i’m 100% down for literally anything and everything so come at me with whatcha got !! i’m always diggity down to spit ball ideas and form some dope connections so pls feel free to invade my ims or discord ( chrissie.#9606 ) to brainstorm. if ya wanna, go ahead and light up that lil grey heart and i’ll shimmy my irish butt into your ims to discuss plots and all that good stuff. anywho, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty, shall we ??

FUNDAMENTALS.

full name. elodie camille garner.

nicknames. el / els.

current age. thirty-three.

birthday. february 6th, 1987.

gender. cisgender female.

pronouns. she / her.

nationality. french.

religion. catholic.

hometown. paris, france.

past residences. marseille, france, & manhattan, nyc, united states.

current residence. mystic point, crystal city, united states.

sexual orientation. heterosexual.

romantic orientation. demiromantic.

education. journalism degree obtained from nyu.

occupation. investigative journalist at crystal city times.

CONNECTIONS.

birth mother. adelaide garner. †

birth father. edward garner. †

full blood siblings. louis garner.

maternal grandmother. celeste dupont. †

maternal grandfather. alexandre dupont. 

paternal grandmother. stephanie garner.

paternal grandfather. gary garner. †

maternal aunts. amelie dupont.

paternal aunts. rebecca garner.

maternal uncles. raphael dupont.

paternal uncles. n/a. 

significant other. gabriel bonneville. †

children. n/a.

pets. n/a.

PROFICIENCIES.

spoken languages. english, french, spanish, italian, & german.

negative traits. flighty, obstinate, assertive, brazen, & destructive.

positive traits. sagacious, alluring, headstrong, elegant, & vehement.

strengths. etiquette, resourcefulness, knowledgeable, quick-thinker, original, brainstorming, charismatic, & energetic.

weaknesses. argumentative, insensitive, intolerant, finds it difficult to focus, & dislikes practical matters.

skills. memory recall, investigating, physical stamina, able to use initiative, & excellent problem-solving abilities.

talents. violin, piano, languages, writing, & photographic memory.

APPEARANCE.

eye colour. light brown with hazel flecks.

hair colour. natural, dark, chocolate brown.

height. five feet, seven inches.

weight. 57 kg.

build. she is considered slightly above average height for a female and is both slender and toned, with slight curvature.

scars. a rather noticeable one across her clavicle and a few others in less visible places.

tattoos. n/a.

piercings. earlobes.

glasses. yes, but usually wears contacts.

prominent feature. full, plump lips.

MISCELLANEOUS.

zodiac. aquarius.

element. air.

house. ravenclaw.

myers briggs type. entp-a.

alignment. chaotic good.

enneagram. type eight.

temperament. choleric.

intelligence type. interpersonal.

character label. the orphic.

past mental disorders. acute stress disorder, depression, & anxiety.

current mental disorders. undiagnosed.

addictions. tobacco, & alcohol.

vices. lust, greed, & wrath.

virtues. temperance, kindness, & humility.

allergies. penicillin.

diet. vegetarian.

accent. french with an undertone of american.

dominant hand. ambidextrous.

blood type. o negative.

felonies. n/a.

vehicle. red 1966 shelby 427 cobra.

BACKGROUND.

TRIGGERS. childbirth death, child abuse, infertility, domestic violence, poison, murder, & death.

Born in the winter of 1987, an innocent baby girl entered the capital of France to a French mother and an English father. Though she’d come into this world placid and silent, her birth was far from being an ode to her future. Instead of the welcoming arms and loving smile of her mother, the first sight Elodie witnessed was the weeping of her father. It wasn’t long until his tears turned into angry fists and hatred shining in dark eyes. This was the only form of her father that Elodie knew — he only element of him she could recall. From the instant she was old enough to figure it out, she knew that her father despised her just as she knew her mother had died giving birth to her.

     Despite leading an obscenely lavish and excessive lifestyle, Elodie was a lonely child; starved of love from her father or even companionship from her brother. As a result of her father’s hatred toward her, Elodie spent her days alone — roaming around the vast house, occupying her childish mind with simple games of hide and seek. Except, she knew no one would ever look for her. Elodie was an outcast in her own family and often wished she had died in place of her mother. She’d spent her entire childhood into her teenage years aiming to please her father. She could play various instruments, speak a handful of languages fluently, recite every Victor Hugo poem word for word. Yet, still, she went unnoticed and neglected by him. All Elodie had ever wanted was to find her place, to fit in, to be cared for. Instead, all she’d got was left behind, disregarded and deemed a burden.

     By the time Elodie turned thirteen, she had begun to develop a deep-rooted hatred and resentment for her father. A loathing so strong that bubbled up deep inside her following years upon years of unfair treatment. Soon, she started acting out — going against her father’s wishes, rebelling and causing trouble. If he was to hate her for no reason, then she would give him a reason. It was through the girl’s behaviour that she found herself shipped off to Marseille to live with her aunt and uncle. It was during this time that within a blink of an eye that Elodie turned hostile and indifferent. As if she had transformed into the polar opposite version of what she’d always been; converting into an alternate version of her former self.

     Comparatively, Elodie’s life with her uncle had been no different to her life with her father. Her time in Marseille had been no walk in the park. Her aunt was a vain, unfeeling woman, unable to conceive a child of her own. Her uncle: an angry, offhand man who often resorted to acts of violence toward his wife, and, eventually, Elodie. From no age, all the girl had known was neglect, hatred and the feeling of being unwanted. Naturally, this was all it had taken for Elodie to turn into a cold, less vibrant girl who became void of emotion and attachment. At least, until she’d turned twenty and had fallen in love with a young accountant named Gabriel.

     At first, their relationship had been innocent and genuine. Gabriel had been the first person to show Elodie an ounce of affection and admiration. Most importantly, he respected her. Without a shadow of a doubt, it was Gabriel’s kindness that had reeled her in; rendering her unable to see the change in his behaviour until it was too late. They married quite quickly — both twenty-two at the time. For the first few months of their marriage, things had been as tranquil as they’d ever been. Gabriel had showered Elodie with love and gifts; treated her the best that she’d ever been treated in her entire life. Then, suddenly, and swiftly, things had taken a nosedive and soon, Gabriel had turned cruel and merciless. He’d hurt her then he’d be the one to shed the tears — claiming his sincere apologies and promising never to lay a finger upon her ever again.

     Fast forward, two more years and countless beatings later, Gabriel had failed to maintain his promises. If anything, his actions had grown much more violent and ruthless. Then twenty-four and having suffered years of her husband’s abuse, Elodie had grown weary and slowly — that deep-seated rage began to boil inside her. It was only a matter of time before she retaliated. Whilst Gabriel left for a while on a business trip, Elodie managed to breathe a sigh of relief at her husband’s absence until a week later when he arrived back in her life. And in that same instance, so was her brother, Louis, with news of their father’s passing.

     Since the death of their father, Elodie’s brother had taken over their family business and out of their father’s clutches, Louis sought his sister out; soon realising the abuse she had been enduring. In fact, it had been her very brother who gave Elodie the poison that she would later use to kill her husband. Concocting a plan to murder Gabriel with the aid of the ricin her brother had provided her with, Elodie had taken action a couple of weeks later. Lacing a glass of red wine with the toxin, Elodie sat back and watched her husband guzzle the liquid down; hours later falling into a severe illness of which she offered to nurse him through all the while knowing that his impending death was inevitable.

     Rendered unable to lash out, Gabriel slowly but surely declined in health until finally, his lungs and kidneys reached failure — resulting in his imminent death. But before this had taken place, Elodie’s brother had helped her flee France mere days before her husband drew his last breath. In fear of falling under any kind of suspicion should Gabriel’s poisoning become uncovered, Elodie wound up in New York City where she laid low for the first few months. For the first year of her residing in the city, Elodie worked as a barmaid whilst attending university, studying a journalism degree.

     After she graduated, Elodie wound up moving to Mystic Point where she moved into a home near the water; working as an investigative journalist at Crystal City Times. Luckily, her secret has remained undiscovered thus far and for obvious reasons, Elodie would prefer to keep her wrongdoing under wraps. Her life might not be ideal but it has given her a second chance, offering her the security and monetary gain she’d lacked throughout her life in Paris. Although she’s been through a lot of adversities, Elodie doesn’t let any of the incidents from her past define her or hold her back. Throughout it all, she learned to look out for herself, to stand up for herself and how to continue surviving even if she was going through hell. She’ll never call herself a victim or bend to anybody’s will ever again.

WANTED PLOTS.

give me all of the connections from friends, frenemies, enemies, hookups, exes, rivals and everything else in between. added bonus if there’s angst or drama. if you have anything in mind feel free to throw it at me, i’m open to the majority of things and have zero triggers so come at me bro !! below you can find some connections i’d love for my bby :

when friends become enemies. maybe this person and elodie were friends from paris that she hung around with and got involved in reckless behaviour with. or maybe this person was someone elodie befriended during her university years. or they could be someone that elodie met when she moved to crystal city. under whichever circumstance they met, one fact remains: the two are no longer on friendly terms. they were once close and trusted each other with anything but now, there is obvious hostility. perhaps there was a betrayal, blackmail, a breach of trust, lack of communication, a simple misunderstanding. whatever it was that cracked this relationship is set in stone and is unlikely to ever go back to how it once was. some things are just too broken to be mended.

you’re in my veins. elodie has always had bad habits. has always gravitated to toxicity like a moth to a flame. thus, it would be safe to assume that 90% of her relationships have also been bad for her. the broken element inside her always found itself magnetised to the darkness in people. more especially, attracted to people she knew were no good for her. though, in the end, elodie would always manage to break free and leave these people behind. however, there was always this one person she couldn’t seem to stay away from. she met them when she moved to crystal city and instantly she knew they would break her heart yet it didn’t deter her from continuing to crawl back to him. these two have what can only be described as a toxic relationship. neither is good for the other yet neither can seem to walk away.

if you don’t have enemies, you don’t have character. of course, it goes without saying that elodie is the kind of woman who could make enemies for herself very easily. due to her sarcastic and distant nature, it would be safe to assume she has quite a few enemies and rivals. though this particular person would be the enemy of all enemies. somebody that she cannot abide and someone who cannot abide her either. they can’t stand the sight of each other and refuse to share the same space unless absolutely necessary. otherwise, there’s a massive chance of a fight outbreaking between them. there could be a history between them that has brought about their hostile nature toward each other. or they could simply dislike each other for no real known reason other than a sense they get from the other. bonus points if they’re crime affiliated!

[westannatasharomanoff]

THG AU Chapter 17

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3     Chapter 4    Chapter 5    Chapter 6 Chapter 7   Chapter 8   Chapter 9  Chapter 10   Chapter 11 Chapter 12  Chapter 13 Chapter 14  Chapter 15  Chapter 16

TW: Major character death

* Natasha watches as her first Hunger Games as a mentor enter their second week. Wanda had finally gotten enough sponsorship money for Natasha to send her something small.* 

Natasha: Okay, they don’t need food because they ate yesterday and they can hunt or gather. They don’t need water because it’s a rain forest. They do need matches, so I’ll send her that. What should I put on the note? 

* Wanda and Peter see a silver parachute descend from the sky. *

Wanda: Oh, you have another sponsor. I bet it was your cousin again. 

Peter: The note has your name on it.  

Wanda: * reading the note* I don’t know what to write but I sent you matches.- Natasha Romanoff. 

Peter: At least she gets to the point.  

*The next day*

Hela: *over the intercom* Attention tributes! I’m sure you all know that the entire career alliance was taken out by sheep muttations, which also destroyed most of the supplies in the arena. Well, we’ve replenished the cornucopia and we are inviting the remaining twelve tributes to a feast. Attendance is not required, bit it is recommended. 

Wanda: So, do we want to attend? I can grab things with my telekinesis rigs.

Peter: No, you can’t. Those only work in close range and without obstruction. It isn’t worth the risk to go to the feast. 

*Following the feast, eight tributes are remaining. Wanda and Peter are eating anything they find in the arena once a day for the next week. By the 16th day, four tributes are remaining.*

Wanda: We better split up. We wouldn’t want to have to kill each other if it came down to it. 

Peter: You’re right. I’ll go that way and you- * he hears a noise* What was that? 

*A male tribute from District 7 is ambushing them. He goes up behind Peter and stabs Peter in the side, twisting the blade. The blade feels cold, but then Peter feels a rush of warm. He doubles over in pain and winds up lying on the forest floor.*

Peter: *thinking to himself* This is it. I’m going to die here, alone on the forest floor. Wanda is going to abandon me here to die alone. my friend and ally is going to leave me here to die. I’m never going to see Aunt May again. Tony will never teach me to build anything else ever again. I’ll never see Ned or MJ or anyone. I’m going to die alone. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to go! I don’t have a choice.

Wanda: No! *she uses her telekinesis rig to move the pocket knife and slit the boy from 10′s throat. A canon fires. *

Peter: Wanda? 

Wanda: Yes? 

Peter: Can you stay here a minute? I don’t want to be alone.

Wanda: I wouldn’t leave you here. *pulls his head into her lap*

Peter: Can I talk to you? * His voice weakens as he speaks*

Wanda: * tearing up* Of course. What do you want to talk about?

Peter: I...I want to talk about my home. *voice fading* Aunt May always made the best cookies. I called my cousin Mr. Stark because his mom would always call him that when he was in trouble. *whispering* Ned loves swivel chairs. M-MJ used to...

Wanda: Peter? *a moment passes* Peter?!

* A canon fires*

Wanda: No. No! * starts crying softly* 

*After a moment, she looks up angrily with tears in her eyes. She looks up and sees the zap trap. It gives her an idea.*

Wanda: They want to see a witch? Fine, I’ll give them a witch. 

*Wanda lights a fire to draw attention to her position. The only other tribute is the girl from 6. When she shows up an hour after Peter died, Wanda uses her telekinesis rig to send the “zap trap” right at the girl, electrocuting her.  A canon fires.*

Hela: *over the intercom* And the winner of the 89th annual Hunger Games is Wanda Maximoff, from District 12!

* Back in The Capitol*

Bruce: Now that the games are over, we should call Tony. He’s probably really upset. 

Vision: Good idea.

*They call Tony.*

Bruce: Hey Tony. How are you holding up?

Tony: *sobbing* You failed him as a mentor! This is your fault! He’s gone because you wanted Natasha’s tribute to win! Wouldn’t it be the worst if your STUPID GIRLFRIEND was hated by her best friend for GETTING HIS COUSIN KILLED!  * hangs up*

Vision: Take everything he says with a grain of salt. Remember, he’s grieving.

Bruce: I know. Wait, how did he know about that? 

Vision: Oh, it’s all over the news. A relationship tested in a dramatic way is a story people love to hear. 

Bruce: So that’s why they did this. 

* Wanda arrived back in The Capitol and they got her all cleaned up. She spent the week recovering from the games and preparing for her interview. She wore a powder blue sundress with fake daisies on the sleeves and pale yellow flats. Her hair was down and pulled back with a pale yellow headband. Her nails were also pale yellow and her makeup was really simple.*

Ceaser: So, victors from 12 two years in a row, huh? Do you have some kind of strategy? What is your secret? 

Wanda: You want to know our secret? * raising her voice* You want to know our secret?! I’ll give you our secret! *She realizes people are looking at her funny and turns bright red. She sits down sheepishly.*

Ceaser: No need to get upset, Wanda. I just wanted to point out what a great job your mentor did. I mean, Bruce Banner failed to do what his girlfriend excelled at. Both of them were in an odd position this year, as their tributes were their best friends’ cousins. Natasha helped you win while Bruce let Peter die. What a mentor. Bruce could learn a thing or two from her. 

*These comments made Wanda’s blood boil. Peter deserved better. She wanted to jump up and shout at Ceaser, but she remembered what Loki said about public appearances. She calmly finished the interview.*

*Natasha and Bruce were sitting together for the interview. Bruce started crying when Ceaser called him a failure.*

Natasha: You know it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t fail Peter and you didn’t fail Tony. *she grabs his hand* Like you said before, we don’t have much control over anything. It isn’t fair of anyone to blame you.

If you want me to continue this, I can. Just let me know. Also, @snips-n-skyguy0501 wanted me to tag her in this. Thank you for the advice on how to decide who to kill.

[kamwritesshit]

What the Arrow Pierced

A Greek Mythology AU this time, heavily inspired by the Tragic Orion event story in Revue Starlight Re:Live, with Zeus!Sakyo, Apollo!Muku, Artemis!Juza and Orion!Banri.

Enjoy.

Word count: 4,243 words

"Oh Juchan, you always worry me, you know?"

"You're worried 24/7."

The two cousins conversed as Muku, the God of healing and medicine tended to Juza's, the God of the Moon and archery, wounds. Even with Muku's constant worrying, the ruler of the Moon rarely got hurt from his hunting hours. Today was one of those rare days where Muku's worrying and talent paid off. Muku only sighed at the nonchalant response his cousin gave and offered a tired smile, to show he wasn't mad but rather exasperated yet glad with his attitude, a sign he hasn't changed for the worst for a few centuries now. And he hoped it continue the same as always until the day they are to surrender to death, because as strong as the Gods are, the Grim Reaper will reap what others have sowed.

"And...there," the God of healing concluded as he finished treating to the wound on his cousin's cheek which grazed thorns as sharp as Sakyo's, Juza's all-knowing and powerful father, gaze. Sakyo, God of lightning and creator of their current world, was seldom present in the same room as his son, abandoning him for the sake of the world beneath him. It wasn't as if he didn't love him; humanity demanded his attention more than his son ever did and so they were his priority. Juza never minded, fully acknowledging his father's duty as the all-powerful, but Muku was still brought to his palace to accompany him and live under the same roof as him.

"...Thanks. Sorry for making you worry. Again," Juza replied and attempted a smile, to which Muku responded with a smile back. He never really felt sorry for spending most hours of his day hunting and frolicking in the woods, surrounded by all sorts of game to be gained and eaten at home; deers, wild rabbits, he could go on forever. But he was clumsy today. Too, too clumsy. But he couldn't blame himself. There was a distraction, one he couldn't possibly be rid of, as much as he hated to admit it. His mind flashed back to the fateful encounter, seemingly unable to completely remove the memory.

~

"Who're you? What's your deal here?" He asked the stranger then, but he had a feeling who they were. They stepped forward with a stupidly devilish grin that was pure irony to how godlike they looked. Blonde hair that mirrored their smooth skin, eyes as blue as the delphiniums in his palace garden, muscular physique men could only dream of — even then, Juza only desired for his grin to be wiped off his face. Perhaps a simple punch could get them to leave but they didn't seem like the type to back down easily in a fight, which was why he scowled. From his observation of this stranger, he concluded that they could only be one being, and Juza didn't even like his own conclusion.

"The name's Banri. You've probably heard of me," he taunted and that dumb, dumb grin was still on his face. Juza only wanted him to go away and leave him alone to hunt for some wild hog, a treat for both Muku and him for today's dinner. As if to taunt him more, Banri sat down on an enormous log near Juza and looked straight at the expansive forest right in front of the both of them, still waiting for either to make a move. It was oddly silent, as if the stomping of Banri, the descendant of the Titans, demanded nothing but quiet from the forest. The inhabitants of the woods were accustomed to seeing Juza hunt and they weren't to hesitate on running, even if they do like him to some degree.

"You didn't answer my second question. What the hell's your deal here?" Juza threateningly questioned the other man and continued to sharpen his next arrow, his sights now on a wild hog he saw was strolling without a care in the world. He wanted to scream at him to leave, leave, leave but, unlike his father, he made sure patience was a trait that could be inherited. Still, that didn't mean his blood was boiling and was on the way to reach 100°C. 'You said "What's your deal here?", I don't remember any "the hell's in your question,' but he kept that to himself as to not make Juza lose his temper. He cared THAT much, at the very least.

"I wanted to see you. They were saying you're the best archer in the land and all that. And I came here to challenge you," Banri answered quite honestly, to Juza's surprise. Still, how dare he challenge a God when he was a mere Titan descendant, who lost the battles with Juza's father centuries ago? To engage in a so-called challenge would only be a waste of time, as Banri would never measure up to him. Besides, does he even know he is God of the Moon and of archery? He'd be beaten in milliseconds. But Juza recalled the conclusion he had made: Banri is the type of fool who'd never back down from a fight. Or a sore loser, as Juza liked to call them.

"I don't want anything to do with a womaniser like you. Get lost," he shooed him away once again but that only made him inch closer. He laughed at the word "womaniser" and clutched his stomach, debunking the phrase "laughter is the best medicine" because all that laughter only hurt him more. Juza felt heat surging, increasingly becoming unable to keep all the anger and irritation deep inside. Banri's laughter chased the woodland creatures away and the arrow in his hand almost split into two. Not that Banri would've cared nor noticed.

"Womaniser? Buddy, I swing both ways. Which is partially why I'm here," he teased and Juza couldn't take it anymore. The arrow in his hand split into two but Banri seemed to be getting more excited. Juza stood up and gazed into the greenery that enveloped his whole view and perspective. He took deep breaths and let the broken arrow fall to the ground as he weaved another out of his father's light, which was gifted to him for one of his many, many birthdays. Banri watched in awe of the God's power; but in his head, he was still somehow superior, being of Titan descent even if they lost. But they lost against the Gods — even getting into battle with them was no easy feat.

"...Fine. But I doubt you can keep up with me. Even if you can, there's no guarantee I'll get along with you," Juza finally gave in and Banri happily cheered as the first step of his plan resulted in victor. He took out his own bow and arrow and readied himself. Juza watched stoically, not all that impressed with whatever he was presenting. Still, he was slightly impressed a fool like him could annoy him enough to the point where he'd give in. Or there was a possibility that Juza longed for a partner to hunt with, whether platonic or romantic, as the woods could get quiet at times.

...No, there's no way.

They began to hunt and needless to say, Juza was more than impressed with the other's archery skills. Sure, he wasn't as good as he is but he never saw someone who could catch up to him as much as the foolish Titan descendant did. Sometimes, he couldn't help but watch in awe, jaw slightly ajar and eyes widened by a millimeter. Which was most likely the reason why he got a few scratches in the first place. He hated it so damn much. How that fool was the center of his attention for a good few minutes, how he was entranced by his agility and how he wanted to be rid of that stupid, stupid grin. Juza hoped that his skills would wipe the grin off his jester face but he only seemed to beam more and more. But, he guiltily admitted to himself, it was a nice change of pace.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted Banri to be back again tomorrow.

~

"Juchan~. Are you okay? Do you have something on your mind?"

His cousin's soft tone snapped him back to reality. Muku's expression only screamed of confusion and genuine confusion as to what caused his dear cousin to space out. Juza wasn't one to get lost in his thoughts when accompanied by anyone or anything — he hates the thought of leaving one in utter and complete silence as he delved deep into his own universe. But he couldn't have done anything to prevent this. And he hated that fact so much. He both hated and loved today. Oh, how he wished that Banri fool wasn't such a confusing one. He was the type you both love and hate at the same time. Somehow, though, Juza managed to find his voice and speak.

"No, it's nothing. Don't worry about me," Juza assured him and offered a smile, one that complimented his appearance this time. Muku had a feeling that his concerns were not answered genuinely and completely so he had to search for an answer of his own. He still questioned his cousin with his innocent sky blue eyes Sakyo would always marvel at, as if the sky he conquers was shoved into two tiny orbs. Juza tried not to sweat as Muku searched for the real answers and gulped. He was rarely intimidated but the intense gaze Muku held was rarer and for that he was stunned right where he sat, on the smooth marble tiles of the palace.

"Or...are you thinking about somebody? Did you finally found your true love?!" Muku yelled in excitement as his eyes lit up, filled with genuine happiness and pride for his darling cousin. Juza didn't have the chance to elaborate as Muku was too busy being proud and gushing at the idea of the so-called unfeeling God of archery falling in love with somebody, regardless of their identity and reputation or rank. Juza was surprised to find his cheeks were tinted red and to find that Banri flashed for a second on his mind. No, he was only amazed that a mortal could keep up with him in the woods just now, it isn't anything beyond that. Besides, love at first encounter doesn't exist, and his father made sure that was fact.

But time seemed to prove him wrong.

☽

"Wow, he's actually late..."

Banri mumbled under his breath as he checked his watch and impatiently tapped his right foot, creating a beat no ant could resist the urge to dance to. Juza was always punctual, as the trait was probably beaten into him as a child (or whatever the god equivalent of it is), so for him to be this late both intrigued and slightly angered the blonde. Plus, he wasn't the only one who was waiting; the whole forest was stomping their feet impatiently, almost creating a catchy tune but Banri was pretty sure every inhabitant was tone deaf. He only sighed and searched his surroundings for any sign of his lover.

Yes, his lover. Banri would've never guessed that Juza reciprocated his feelings, considering how stoic he is and how much of a "tsundere", as humanity calls it, he can be. Nevertheless, Banri was ecstatic to know that the feeling's mutual, even if they have to sneak around and keep it a secret. He didn't mind, as long as he was with Juza, he was content. He had to admit to himself, he was initially interested in the God of archery because of his skills thereof and, he unashamedly admitted this, he was very attractive. Banri thought he'd have a fling with him, just like he had done with many others, but somehow he got attached. It's most likely due to how enchanting he was whenever he strikes his targets and how he absentmindedly smiles every time he lands a good hit.

"Sorry I was late. My dad was back after a while," Juza apologised and bursted Banri's bubble of thoughts. Banri immediately froze at what he was witnessing; Juza with his hair down, his bangs hanging down similar to how palm tree leaves are dragged down by gravity, most likely a result of rushing all the way here as to not make him wait any longer. And because of that, Banri appreciated the sentiment, but he was too busy admiring how so, so attractive his lover looked with his hair down like that. He tried not to blush or feel inferior, because he acknowledges his beauty, but Juza stole the spotlight for once. Banri cleared his throat in an attempt to dispose of his obvious thirst.

"You should be sorry. Anyway, c'mon, I heard that it's elk season~," he spoke as to not seem too soft, even though he did grew quite affectionate the longer he's with him. He was already a step ahead and he could feel the wind through his hair, a friendly reminder that he was also here to hunt and not to tease Juza all day until he leaves out of embarrassment. Again, something he had done with his flings for a night of passion, but done with Moon God to bond and grow love. Banri thought soulmates were a myth and that lead him to frolic with many but the thought of living without Juza made him feel ill. His old self would glance at how lovestruck he was with Juza and thunk it as pathetic but he was dead, an arrow struck right in his heart.

Juza attempted to get a headstart but was halted by a strong grip on the neck of his robe and so he glanced behind him to see who dared stop him from doing what he does and loves best. To his surprise, Muku stood there with the angriest expression Juza has ever seen on his angelic face and it scared him a little. It was difficult to disappoint or anger Muku; he was one of the most patient beings Juza knew and to see him grimace so much made him feel wretched. The guilt dug a hole in his chest and yet he felt like rebelling — he already knew why his pure-of-heart cousin was here.

"What are you doing with that filthy Titan?! I was so happy to know that you've found somebody to love, but you fell in love with a monster!" Muku shouted and Juza was shook at how angry he sounded. Then again, he's still a cousin of his and that meant he has the capacity to be threatening and imposing. Juza wanted to run then and there as Banri was already gone, oh-so-deep in the woods. Juza envied Banri somewhat, of his carefree nature and of his ancestors who couldn't see what he was up to as easily as the Gods could. Plus, Banri was the one to have thawed his frozen heart and made him not hesitate to feel so, so many feelings.

"I never told you to be happy for me. Besides, Banri is Banri. He's nothing like his ancestors!" Juza found himself defending his lover, the black hole of guilt digging deeper into his chest at every word he screamed at his cousin. He didn't want to, knowing that Muku was soft-hearted as if his heart was made out of clouds, but now it's as if his heart was armoured and heavily guarded. Juza even had the urge to slap him into oblivion, but that was too much, he thought. "Your hunting skills have been worse lately too, and it's all due to that filth personified!" Muku scolded him again and Juza was filled with much more rage at such a ridiculous thing to ridicule.

"I didn't get worse, he was the one who got better and better. I know him well, Muku, and I know he is sincere and genuine with me. I know of his breathing when he readies himself for hunting, I know of his soft smile when he was sincerely happy, I know of his everything and I love each and every thing about him. The war between my father and the Titans has nothing to do with us," Juza defended himself again. And as if there wasn't any better timing, Banri stumbled right out of one of the bushes and rolled to the ground, landing near their feet. Juza instantly kneeled down to check up on his condition, knowing he also rarely got hurt from their hunting sessions (though he still gets hurt more than Juza).

"Why weren't you..." Banri mumbled and attempted to get up but he let himself drop into Juza's arms at the sight of a furious Muku. Their secret was no longer one; the whole kingdom will surely hear of this. Banri, descendant of the Titans, the supposed "womaniser", had somehow pierced Juza's heart that was supposedly made of iron. Humanity will hear of it, the Titans will hear of it and of course, the Gods will hear of it. And both of them will be punished. Banri didn't mind being punished for pursuing his one true love but the thought of Juza suffering angered and saddened him greatly.

"So you're Banri. You know what? I'll give you a chance to save yourself, Banri. You either leave this land without a trace and do not keep in touch with Juza or you'll die by my hands or Sakyo's wrath. Choose wisely," Muku bargained, but Banri seemed to grow angrier. A stroke of anger flashed for a second in his eyes; Muku was oblivious to it but Juza knew what it meant. Juza glanced at him, eyebrows furrowed worryingly and his lips were in a sad frown. Banri attempted and struggled against Juza's tight grip, no longer able to fight the need to punch the God of healing, despite the angelic and almost brotherly look he held. Unable to break out of his lover's embrace, Banri scoffed.

"I'd rather die, thanks. But in return, you keep Juza alive. Don't lay even lay a single finger on him, got it?" Banri barked as Juza tried to shush him in desperation, knowing full well whatever words that will come of out of his mouth will put himself danger at the very, very least, although Juza had no doubt that Banri'll be executed and in the most painful way possible, even to Gods alike. He doesn't deserve that. Both of them don't deserve such pain and agony. Sakyo knew no mercy and Juza used to wish he was the same. But if it weren't for the spite-driven patience and compassion, he would've never got to love or even met his true love.

"How dare you threaten a God! This is why you filthy Titans are of the lowest of lowly beings! I am the one who decides what happens to Juza, whether you like it or not. But it seems you have made your choice. Very well then!" Muku grew more furious, somehow. The woods fell silent and the air was stagnant, the tension rising above the stratosphere. As Muku procured a bow and arrow out of Sakyo's lighting, the couple widened their eyes at what they were witnessing. "What...?" was the only word Juza could utter at that moment. He was the God of archery — why does Muku have the ability to weave a bow and arrow of thunder of his own?

"Sakyo said I was destined to be not only God of healing but also of archery. But I didn't want to take that away from you, Juchan, I didn't. I cared for you, worried about you 24/7 as you said, but this is how you repay both me and your father. Well, I hope all that time wasted in the woods was worth this moment," Muku confessed, eyes filled with such melancholy and disappointment, it was almost uncharacteristic. But Juza recalled; Muku was also a God, and of his lineage no less, so it was no wonder how he could have looked so menacing and malicious. Juza got up and stood in front of Banri.

"I won't let you have him!" Juza howled but Muku seemed unfazed. Banri took hold of Juza's left leg but he begged for him to let go. As the couple struggled against each other, Muku drew his bow, as graceful as a swan on a spring day. He let go and the arrow, expectedly enough, pierced Banri right in the heart. Banri looked down at himself as his soul was slowly leaving, departing for a place to belong in the sky above their heads. Juza kneeled down again, this time out of breath at the sight of the arrow in his lover's chest, his arms flailing in desperation to save him.

"You can't save him, Juchan. You're lucky he's only made into a star, instead of his soul being sent into the underworld. And be grateful you aren't being sent anywhere yourself, as Sakyo and I still somewhat and somehow believe that you still have the brains to repeat the same foolish mistake. From now on, he'll be a part of Rigel, but both Sakyo and I will make sure you won't ever have to lay your eyes on him, whatever form he may be in, ever again!" Muku called out and slowly but surely, Banri was fading into stardust. Juza hated how he couldn't do anything but hold him in his arms. Juza choked out a sob, something he thought he wasn't capable of until today.

"Cry all you want but I'm still gonna turn into a star, y'know," Banri tried to lighten up the mood but tears still slowly streamed down Juza's cheek, which Banri now caressed for the last time before leaving. Juza's eyes went blurry even after one or two tears and he could barely see his surroundings. But that didn't matter when all he could see was Banri and only Banri. His beloved, his hunting and archery partner, his best friend, the shadow to his Moon, his sky and land and ocean and whatever lies beyond the world where their feet are planted, albeit his lover being a mere Titan descendant.

Juza kissed Banri with all the might left in him, which wasn't a lot but it was enough to say goodbye and to respond to his lighthearted farewell. Even as his lips slowly faded, the couple clung onto each other and hoped they will never have to let go. But after a few moments, Juza stumbled into the dirt and Banri was among the stars in the night sky, but forever hidden to his lover's eyes, naked or not. Juza closed his eyes tight and wished for the Earth to bury him deep, deep under, because he might as well be dead than alive. He was overwhelmed by all these feelings. And he regretted not saying it earlier, a result of his naivety and, he had to admit, his "tsundere-ness".

"...I love you. I really do. Forever and always. Thank you for everything."

☽

He was looking up at the starry night sky again. But this night was quite special — a September night, specifically the 9th. His lover's birthday. He couldn't care less about the preparations for his birthday the whole palace was rioting about. 18 days felt like 18 centuries either way. He stole some cake from the kitchen for him to snack on as he read every constellation and searched for Rigel despite the punishment he was given a year ago. He still hoped he could see him just once despite the events that had occured and the punishments he'd endured and still enduring. And he'll never stop hoping. Until he saw a familiar glint and glimmer in the starry canvas above him.

There he was. Banri himself. In Rigel, but Juza could've sworn he heard his cousin and father renamed him to Orion, which he admits is a very beautiful name. Orion. Even then, he preferred Banri. Banri is engraved into his mind and it became a heavenly name to him. Sure, his lover was no angel or even a kind mortal but he sure was an interesting (and quite attractive) specimen. He mocked him but out of love, he planted kisses on his cheek fully knowing Juza was always unready for kisses on the lips. His skills managed to hypnotise Juza every time and that memory eventually lead to painful scene Juza wished he never had to witness. Still, he got to say his farewells and kiss his lover like one would normally do.

"Ori...Banri. I wish I never met you. Damn life-changer," Juza mocked lovingly and smiled to hinself, as if Banri really could see and respond to his taunts. But what if he could see? What if he was always watching from above, even if he was invisible to Juza? Maybe his twinkling and shimmering was just another way to convey his feelings, and Juza wholeheartedly accepted them. Juza thanked whatever deity or miracle (because it surely wouldn't be his father) for letting him see him again despite him most likely undeserving of it, as he quietly munched on his cake. And he was surprisingly grateful that, out of everyone that has ever lived on his father's Earth, Banri's arrow was the one who pierced his heart.

Metaphorically, of course.

[heatherereyna]

Him…..My Prince?

Artwork done by the Amazing Bectara!!  Do Not Re-Post the Art!  To follow, clink on the link here - https://bectara.tumblr.com

Staring, eyes wide. Tall, silver hair that looked like it belonged on a Silver Back, gorgeous, with the bluest eyes.  My God, those eyes, how Yuuri could get lost in them.  They were staring right back at him, looking directly at him.  Blushing, turning around, making sure there was no one behind him.  Could this be happening?  Almost forgetting to breath, gulping for air.  This man was just breathtaking.  

 His voice, smooth, sultry.  It was like he was singing to Yuuri and Yuuri alone.  His music, intoxicating.  The way he played the piano, his fingers gracefully playing over each key.  His movements, Yuuri could not take his eyes off him, not for a second.  He just wanted to hear him play again and again, not stopping.  Yuuri could listen to him all day and all night.  He felt like he was the only other person is the room besides this man playing the piano, singing.  How he just wanted to melt into a puddle.

Yuuri didn’t even hear Christophe come up behind him until he felt his breath upon his neck, jumping slightly, caught off guard.  “Is that who you’ve been waiting for Cheri?” Whispered Christophe.   “Um.” Not being able to say anything but just continue to stare.  Chucking, “Cat got your tongue?”  Looking over at Christophe, “Who is he?”  Christophe glancing over at Victor, already reading Victor’s eyes, “I’ll let him tell you.”  With that, the piano went silent, singing stopped.  

 The crowd erupted in applause.  Victor making his way over, greeting the guest, answering any questions one may have, only momentarily taking his eyes off Yuuri.  Getting closer, Yuuri could feel the heat radiating off his cheeks.  He could feel that they were very red indeed. Smiling, “Well Hello my brown eyed beauty.”  Blinking, “Wha…What did you just call me?” Stuttering.  “Oh, I’m sorry, I did not mean to be so upfront.  How rude of me.  Let me introduce myself.  I’m Victor, Victor Nikiforov and I own this winery.” Smiling.

 Oh God, did he just say that?  He owns the Winery.  How, how could he even be interested in someone like me?  Yuuri’s self doubt was creeping back in.  

 “I heard that you did the tour, how did you like it?  Is there anything that I can improve on?”  Victor asking.  

 Talk Yuuri, say something, just don’t stand there with your mouth open starting at this God of a Man.  Because that was exactly what he was.  How Yuuri just wanted to rip his clothes off him.  He wanted to see that banging chest, it looked like he had a banging chest.  Yuuri wanted to rub his fingers through his silver hair.  His hair looked like silk.  Probably felt like silk too.  His lips. He wanted to reach in, for those lips, to press them onto his own, intertwine their tongues, getting lost in each other.  

 “Yuuri? It is Yuuri right?”  How was the tour?  How was Christophe more importantly?”  Looking into Yuuri’s eyes.  Yuuri snapping out of it.  Shaking his head for just a moment, hoping that he was not lost in his own thoughts thinking of Victor for too long.  That would be just beyond embarrassing.  “No, Christophe was fine.  Just fine.” Almost at a loss for words.  “Am I making you nervous Yuuri?”  Winking.  “You don’t have to be nervous Yuuri.”  Looking at Yuuri, seeing him blush the cutest pink.  Cute, Cute, Cute.

  Victor definitely wanted to get to know Yuuri more. Yuuri was his type, messy, dark hair, the brownest eyes, soft pink cheeks, lips that wanted to be kissed.  Yuuri looked very fit.  His thighs, Wow, his thighs.  How Victor wanted to Fuck those thighs.  The impure thoughts Victor was now having, looking over Yuuri.  Victor just wanted to strip those clothes off Yuuri, kissing him so softly on those lips, pulling him in, their bodies close.  How he wanted to blow into his ears, making that blush come back.  How Victor loved it when Yuuri blushed.  He could start to feel the ache in his Dick.  Victor knew, even if Yuuri did not know at this time.  They were meant to be together.  Victor could feel it.

 Victor first saw Yuuri back in that bar close to Yuuri’s flat.  He saw Yuuri come in as Victor and Christophe just got done bringing in an emergency delivery.  Victor saw Yuuri looking around, lost, like a cute puppy.  Victor wanted to go talk to him than, but Christophe and Victor had a prior engagement.  They were to be at an engagement party.  If Victor could have skipped out, he would have, but he was one of the best men and needed to be there.  Victor did the next best thing, he bought Yuuri a glass of wine, from his winery.  Since Victor did visit that bar often and being that the bartender was friends of the family, Victor would often find himself there. Victor would also play the piano every now and then.  How he wanted to just go over and introduce himself.  Another time Victor was hoping.

 As luck would have it, Victor saw Yuuri go into the wine store just down from the bar. That glass he gave him must have made some impression Victor thought, hoping that it would.  He sent Christophe in, setting a plan in motion.  Victor’s plan, he was really hoping that it was going to work, was getting Christophe to go in, help Yuuri find the right bottle, the one with his label on it.  Victor was hoping it would eventually bring Yuuri to the winery where he could introduce himself.  Sweep Yuuri off his feet, get married to Yuuri and live happily ever after.  That was Victor’s plan.  His plan could not have gone any better.  

 You see, Victor recognized Yuuri.  He knew who Yuuri was.  He had seen him Ice Skate.  Both in his short and long programs.  It was, of course on TV.  Victor had to meet Yuuri, whatever it took.  Victor was going to take Christophe to the upcoming Grand Prix that was going to be held in Russia.  Of course, Christophe was not aware of this, not yet, at least.  The way that Yuuri ice skated to the music, as he was feeling the music.  His whole body, not just his mind, graceful.  Yuuri was really good, even though he did not think that most of times. Victor became lost watching Yuuri ice skate, as if in a trance.  All Victor could think about was when he was going to be able to watch Yuuri ice skate in person, it became his obsession.  Victor even took up ice skating, some lessons here and there.  He kept that to himself.  He knew that Christophe would laugh and joke with him.  Victor just thought, if there was ever a chance that I had at meeting Yuuri, he wanted to, at least, be somewhat prepared.  

 Now Victor had been waiting for the next chance that he was going to be able to watch Yuuri, but that chance would not have been that year, as he had heard that Yuuri was taking the year off.  Victor was crushed.  This could not be happing.  No, this cannot happen.  As the media did not say where Yuuri was going or the reason behind it, only speculations.  Speculations did not sit well with Victor.  He hated what some of the media was saying.  “As the pressure is getting to Katsuki, bowing out.  Will we see him ice skate again?” “Anxiety hits Katuski once again.” Katuski retiring? Is this due to all the young ice skaters coming of age to complete in his level? Well, guess we’ll never now know since he is not competing this year?  Begs the question, will we see Katuski again?”  All these statements that Victor was hearing just made his blood boil.  If only he could see Yuuri, hold him and tell him he understood, tell him that everything was going to be alright.

 Explaining to Christophe after the plan was set in motion, Christophe did teach him, just slightly.  He filled his best friend in.  Telling Christoph that he had seen Yuuri a few times before, but it was not when he was drunk.  It was on TV, during one of his ice-skating competitions that was aired on TV.  It all than came to Christophe.  He saw that way that Victor looked at Yuuri on the TV, his lost, puppy dog eyes.  Christophe knew that Victor would stop at nothing to seek out Yuuri.  When Victor had a goal set in mind, he made sure that he completed it. What luck would have it that Yuuri ended up in Paris to take the year off.  Looking over at Victor, “Must be fate Victor.  For you, I hope everything turns out well.  You know I don’t like to see a friend get hurt, again.” Eyes wide, “It’s going to work Christophe, I know it is.”  The Plan has been set in motion.

 Christophe immediately texted Victor when he saw Yuuri at the winery.  Teasing Victor, “You’ll never know who just showed up, taking the tour?”  Waiting for Victor’s response, which followed ever so quickly, as Christophe was eagerly waiting for the reply.  “Really?” So soon?  He is so cute.  Cute, Cute, Cute.  On my way. Make sure he heads upstairs after the tour, and, Christophe, make sure he does not leave.  I’m holding you to it.”  Squealing.

 “Uh, Yeah. The tour was great.  You own this Winery?” Surprised.  Not quite making eye contact with Victor as Yuuri felt that he was completely out of his league.  Yep, completely.  But it did seem like Victor was interested, Yuuri was hoping.  “Yes, it’s been in my family for years.  I am glad that you had a really good time.  If you ever want a private tour, let me know.  I can make that happen.” Winking.  Ok, was that flirting, yes, definitely flirting.  Blushing more, trying to find his words.  Victor was just starring over at Yuuri with the most heart-shaped smile.  Oh, wow. Am I in big trouble, just melting away.

 It was starting to get late and Yuuri would have at least an hour or so drive home. It was a Saturday and he nothing planned for Sunday.  Wondering if there was an Inn or a Bed and Breakfast nearby.  He was really contemplating about taking that private tour tomorrow if Victor did not have any plans.  He was hoping so, at least.  He would love to spend time with Victor.  Kiss him on those heart-shaped lips of his.  Rub his hand through his hair, pull him in close, putting his hand on that firm chest of his.  Oh, how his chest looked firm.  Shaking his head, Yuuri realizing he’s going off on another long thought while Victor was looking into his eyes, smiling.

 “Yuuri, I don’t mean to be forward, but we have guest rooms here if you wanted to stay the night.  I know that it is starting to get late and the drive home on the winding road, not familiar with it, could give a person anxiety.” Stating.  No, Yuuri did not need more anxiety, he had enough.  Was Victor reading his mind.  Not only a gorgeous man, but a mind reader as well.  What other surprises did Victor have up his sleeve wondered Yuuri.  “Uh, Su….Sure.  That would be fine.  Are you sure that it is ok?  I don’t want to be a bother.” Blurting Yuuri.  “Oh no, no bother at all.  I would feel better if you stayed the evening.  I would so be worrying if I let you drive home on these windy roads, believe me.  Besides, I am hoping to get to know you better Yuuri, if that is ok with you?” Smiling. This time Yuuri did not blush but smiled back at Victor.

 A tango came over the speakers that lined the winery lounge, asking Yuuri if he danced, offering.  Laughing, “Do I dance?  I just hope you can keep up.”  Accepting Victor’s hand, Victor took that as a challenge, but already knowing that Yuuri did indeed know how to dance.

 The Tango, a dance of passion, romance, sex.  An emotional dance in nature, primal and stirring of one’s senses.  It is a living and breathing feeling that is danced.  One to witness all when danced correctly.  Eyes all on Yuuri and Victor, who were passionately dancing the Tango.  Yurri not even looking down at his feet, following Victor’s lead.  Captivated by Victor’s smile.  Arms embraced, never wanting to leave.  Bodies intertwined, engaged in a dialogue of limbs, creating a moving seduction.  Both Victor and Yuuri lost in each other, dipping Yuuri ever so slighting, wanting to brush his own lips over across Yuuri’s. Yuuri feeling Victor’s hand ever so lightly in the small of his back.  Moving swiftly across the dance floor, limbs in conversation, the magic that lies in their ability to convey their emotions.  Grips becoming tighter, as sexual tension grow between Victor and Yuuri, both not wanting this dance to end.  Both hearts beating, skipping beats, feeling each other’s heart racing.  Heavy breathing.  A last dip before the music ends and fades, Victor still staring into Yuuri’s deep, brown eyes, Yuuri lost in Victor’s stunning, blue eyes.  The crowd irrupts, Victor and Yuuri coming too.  Christophe, mouth agape, just starring, eyes wide.

 “Wow.” Yuuri catching his breath.  “Wow is right.” Victor stating back.

 “Where did you learn how to dance like that?”  Yuuri asking Victor.  “Oh, from my Mom.  She was a ballroom dancer.  She wanted to make sure I learned how to sweep someone off their feet.  Did it work?” Winking.  “I would say so.”  Yuuri once blushing again.  “Your amazing.  You can take my hand anytime.”  Oh God, Yuuri realizing what he just said and Victor with the biggest heart shaped smile. “Really now?” Making Yuuri blush the deepest red ever.  Victor chuckling.  “You’re not bad yourself Yuuri.  You can have my hand anytime as well.”  Hoping to give a hint of where Victor wanted this thing, they had between them to go. Yuuri was feeling it as well, but still a little unsure and it was extremely too soon for that.  

 “Are you hungry Yuuri?  I can cook you something if you are?  I am also an excellent cook.”  Stating. “Don’t believe him Yuuri.  Run while you still can Cheri!”  Christophe chiming in and Otabek laughing.  Right, Victor forgot that Christophe was still in the winery lounge.  “Christophe, hush!  You know I can cook; you have never complained.  Don’t you have something that you can be doing now?” Smirking over. Christophe took that his queue and went to help Otabek tend the bar.  The guests were starting to linger, as most had a room to go back too that was not far.  Christophe and Otabek looking at each other.  They knew.

 “Come Yuuri, I’ll take up to the kitchen and we’ll eat.  As I said, I want to get to know you better, if that is alright with you?” Looking just a little bit worried. “Yes, Victor, I would like that very much.  To get to know you better too.”  This time is was Yuuri who was smiling back at Victor, for the moment.

 Leading Yuuri out of the lounge, thru a locked side door, up the stairs.  He was in the heart of the Castle.  Yuuri just realized that.  The stairs led out to the inside of the castle, the heart, as Yuuri referred to it.  It was huge, like one big centered room.  To the left and right were different grand halls that led from the heart of the castle. Straight ahead led a grand staircase that led upstairs.  Yuuri only hoped that he did not get lost in it all.  Above Yuuri, hung a Grand Crystal Chandelier.  It was stunning.  Yuuri could not take his eyes off it.  There was a soft glow that came off it.  The center of the room had a beautiful round Persian rug to match the roundness of the castles heart.  The colors in the rug, deep blues with golds and hints of pink.  Matched the outside Castle walls perfectly.  For a moment, Yuuri thought he was in a dream.  He had to pinch himself and Victor only laughed.  “What?”  Stated Yuuri. “Just making sure I am not in my flat dreaming.”  That even made Victor laugh more.

 God, Victor’s laugh was like the feeling you get when you bite into the sweetest, finest chocolates.  Your eyes just want to close and take it all in.  Wanting more of it.  That is how Yuuri felt when he heard Victor’s laugh.  Wanting more.  He wanted more of everything that was Victor.

  Yuuri was still having a hard time believing that this was all happening to him though.  Yuuri had had a few different relationships in the past.  One in particular was not a good one and that left his guard up, not wanting to fully give himself to another person.  Yuuri had done that, gave him self completely and he was only taken advantage of.  Yuuri felt very used and then felt like he was tossed to the curb.  Which Yuuri was.  It was an emotional wreck for him.  His skating had suffered some back then.  He was falling more on his jumps, scores were lower.  Thankfully Yuuri had Phichit to help him get out of that rut.  Yuuri would always be thankful for Phichit. Phichit was his very bestie.  This is the reason Yuuri had a hard time accepting that this was real even though it felt very real.  His guard still up though.

 Victor took one of the grand halls to the left of the grand staircase.  The hall lined with, what Yuuri presumed, family pictures. Victor allowing Yuuri time to look at them all.  He spotted Yurio, Otabek, Christophe, Mila, Makka. How cute was Makka, posing.  He remembered how she ran up to him, bowling him over, licking his face and knocking his glasses off.

 “Makka, nooooo….”  Yelling. Yuuri falling over, glasses being knocked off by all her licks.  Yuuri ruffling her head, laughing.  Victor standing there now, watching Yuuri reacting with Makka.  Victor could not have been happier.  He was wondering how Yuuri would react with Makka.  His heart shaped smile appearing over his lips once again. Yuuri taking notice.  “Oh, I love poodles.”  Petting Makka, roughing her up a bit.  “I met her earlier.  I think she was with Yurio, if I recall.  She is very pretty.”  Allowing Makka to get in another lick before being helped up by Victor.  “Yurio!”  Yelled Victor.  “What? What do you want?  I’m busy eating.  Stop bothering me old man!”  Came an obnoxious voice that only Yuuri could laugh at.  “My little brother.  You’ll have to pardon his loud and voice tress mouth.  I sometimes cannot control what comes out it.”

 Heading down the hall a bit more, taking a right into the kitchen with a small table, sat Yurio.  Yurio looking up, seeing Yurri, not giving two fucks.  Yuuri biting the inside of his lips to keep from laughing, Victor fully aware. “Yurio, at least you can say hello to our guest.  I believe introductions were done earlier.”  Glaring over at Yurio.  “He’s not my guest old man.  He’s yours. You’re the one stalking him. Hello.  Happy?”  Glaring back. This time is was Victor who blushed a hint of pink that Yuuri noticed.  Cute, cute, cute Yuuri thought.  “It’s Ok. I didn’t want to intrude on him eating dinner.”  Not wanting to get poor Yurio into much more trouble.  “Honestly, it’s fine.  We did meet earlier.  What’s for dinner Victor?”  Wanting to take the subject off of Yurio and Yurio actually noticing, giving a gracious nod over at Yuuri.  Victor also noticing, ignoring it.

 “We have salmon.  I hope you like salmon.  How about it with a tossed spring salad?”  Victor hoping Yuuri did like salmon cause nothing else was really defrosted.  “Salmon is good.  I like salmon.”  Sheepishly smiling.  “Uh, you have any wine that will go with that salmon?”  Asking.  Now that perked up Victor and brought out a chuckle with that heart shaped smile again. Yuuri could never get tired of seeing that heart-shaped smile of Victors.  Meanwhile, Yurio just looking at the two of them in disgust.  “I know you all just met but get a room!”  Coming out of Yurio’s uncontrolled mouth.  Now both Yuuri and Victor looking at each other and back over a Yurio, faces red.  Yurio just chucking.  Mission accomplished he thought.  “Time for to exit.  Later.” Yurio leaving.

 “I’m so sorry, so, so, so sorry.”  Repeated Victor.  Yuuri laughing, “That’s all right.”  Victor starting to prepare their dinner.  

 Watching Victor prepare the salmon had Yuuri drooling.  Heating the over to 375 degrees, lining a large rimmed baking sheet with a large piece of aluminum foil.  Lightly coating the foil with baking spray, arranging 2 sprigs of rosemary down the middle. Cutting one of the lemons into thin slices and arranging the slices down the middle with the rosemary.  Victor placing the salmon on top.  Then drizzling the salmon with olive oil sprinkling with salt and pepper.   Rubbing to coat, then scattering garlic cloves over the top.  Layering the remaining rosemary and lemon slices on top of the salmon. The second lemon, sliced in half, squeezing the juices over the top.  Folding the sides of the aluminum foil up and over the tip of the salmon, closing the salmon in, making sure that it was sealed.  Placing the dish into the over to bake for about 15-20 minutes.

 “That looks amazing Victor.  I cannot wait to taste your masterpiece, because that is what it looks like, a masterpiece.” Already drooling.  Victor smiling.  “Just wait for the tossed salad.”  Winking. Oh boy, thoughts flooded into Yuuri’s mind.  Tossed salad, yeah, I would like to eat your tossed salad Victor.  Any day.  Just bend right over this table here and let me put my face right between those firm cheeks of yours.  I’ll make a tossed salad out of you.  I bet you taste delicious, better than that salmon.  Victor looking over at Yuuri, as reading his exact thoughts, slyly smiling. Knowing exactly what Victor is doing. Driving Yuuri batty.  

 Grabbing a salad bowl, tossing in fresh mixed spring greens, garbanzo beans, sliced kalamata olives, halved cherry tomatoes, and a dash of thyme, oregano, basil, salt, and pepper.  Mixing all the ingredients, adding some olive oil and reduced balsamic.

Checking the salmon, done.  Salad done. Grabbing two wine glasses, plates, forks over to the small table.  Bringing over the salad and the salmon, “Ready to eat Yuuri?”

Plating the food onto the plates, poring the complementing wine to bring out the flavors of the salmon, Yurri and Victor began to eat.  

 Victor not wanting to tell Yuuri that he already knew about him and his skating. Not wanting to be what Yurio blurted out in any way true, a stalker.  Now that Victor thinks about it.  He kind of was.  A stalker, but not in a creepy way.  Yuuri never even knew that Victor existed before this.  Victor had kept his stalking pretty much to himself.  He did not want to be made a fool of, which he very well knew that is what he would have been made, teased with no mercy.  Maybe only Christophe would have been the one to really understand.  Even then, he did not want it to be that known.  Maybe more as crush.  Although, once Victor bought Christophe into the plan and had explained everything to him. Christophe did tease him some, again, but not too much.  Christophe only wanted the best for his friend.  Both him and Victor grew up together.  Christophe was pretty much adopted by his family what seemed many years ago.  Yurio was blood, Christophe may not be, but he was still considered.  

 “So Yuuri, what brings you to Paris?”  Asking. “Uh, I needed a break.  I thought I was losing my mind back home.  I thought taking a year, coming here to Paris, to write.  How much do you know of me?”  Wanting to know just how much Victor knew, as he had a feeling that Christophe knew a little but had a hard time remembering it.  Almost putting Victor on the spot.  Victor, being quiet, thinking of how he should answer Yuuri’s question.  He wanted to be honest, all relationships were based on honesty, but they were not in a relationship, yet.  Victor did not dare want a chance to ruin that possibility. He saw that Yuuri was a little fragile. He wanted to say the right things, not saying anything hurtful or that would make Yuuri with drawl more.  Guess the media was a little right in why Yuuri needed to take some time off.  Victor could totally understand though.  He had been there once in his life.

 “Victor, it’s alright if you know who I am and about my anxieties.  I would actually be surprised if you did not know.”  Yuuri looking over, into Victors eyes, knowing that he wanted to speak, say the right thing.  Not assume. He gathered that Victor had a very kind heart, was a caring man.  Took everything to heart.  That he seemed he could get hurt easily, much like himself.  He was giving Victor an out if he needed.  As much as Yuuri was very interested in Victor, he could not ask Victor to take his baggage.  This was Victor’s out.  

 “Yuuri, are you trying to give me a way out?”  Looking over at Yuuri.  Yuuri shocked.  Not knowing what to say.  “Yuuri, yes, I do know who you are and why you are taking a break.  Even I have needed that.  If you’d can believe that.  I am very much interested in you and like I said before, I want to get to know you better. I think, you and I, have more in common than you think.  What do you say?  Don’t you want to get to know me better?”  Looking directly into Yuuri’s brown eyes.  “Yeah, Yeah, I do.  It’s just that I can be a little insecure and not put myself completely out there.” Replying.  “I understand, baby steps, that is what we will take.  Now let’s finish eating before out food gets cold. We can always talk later if you’d like?”

 With that, Yuuri and Victor finished up their meals.  Yuuri helping Victor with what few dishes they used.  

 Victor taking the two glasses, handing Yuuri the bottle of wine.  “Come with me.”  Taking Yuuri in hand.  Leading them out of the kitchen, down the hall to the heart of the castle and up the stairs, to the left down another hall out to a balcony.  Yuuri just completely could not get over how big this castle was.  It was truly amazing.  Setting the glasses down, the wine bottle on a table.  Taking Yuuri’s hand still, bringing him over to the balcony rail.  Yurri looking out, the entire vineyard lite up in a string of lights.  Taking Yurri back.  Yuuri could not believe his eyes.  How beautiful the vineyard looked in the string of lights?  All Yuuri could do was stare.  “This is truly amazing.  I have never seen anything like it.”  Eyes wide. “Sometimes I do find myself taking this view for granted.  Forgetting how beautiful it all is.  How quiet.  I guess I am very lucky to have this Winery, although it can get very lonely at times, well, most times lately.”  Sighing. Yurri squeezing Victor’s had into his. Man did Yuuri want to kiss Victor. How could he not, with this romantic view?  Yuuri was hoping that Victor was feeling the same way.  

 Victor releasing his hand from Yuuri, pointing over, off to the corner, under a soft glow, with the view of the vineyard and lights, was a piano.  Yuuri wanted to immediately melt.  Victor going over to said piano, sat down and started to play for Yuuri, and only Yuuri.  Yuuri getting swept away in the music, no words, just the sounds of the piano keys making the most beautiful music.  No, Victor was making that beautiful music.  Could this day and night get any better Yuuri thought.  Victor was really sweeping Yuuri off his feet.  Hook, line, and sinker.  There was no turning back.  Yuuri knew what he wanted, he wanted Victor.  He wanted to date Victor.  He wanted to be with Victor and only Victor.  Victor made him feel the warmth that he had been missing from his past relationships.  He made Yuuri feel needed, wanted, loved like no other.  Yuuri had so long wanted to feel this way.  This was his Prince and Yuuri knew it.  Yuuri had, at last, found his Prince and he never wanted to let go.

 The music stopped, Yuuri still over at the balcony’s ledge, tears starting to stream down his eyes, Victor rushing over, taking Yuuri into his arms, holding him close, not wanting to let go.  Giving Yuuri all the love that Yuuri deserved.  “Yuuri, don’t cry.  I am here for you and as long as you want me to be here.  I am hoping that is forever though.”  Wiping the tears away from Yurri’s cheeks. “You deserve so much Yuuri, I can only hope that I live up to your expectations.  Yuuri, I know that this may seem a little bit sudden, but will you go on a date with me?”  Smiling. Oh God, why do you have to be so perfect.  “Yes, I would like nothing more Victor.”  Bringing Yuuri back into his embrace, kissing softly down onto his messy brown hair. Yuuri looking up into Victors eyes, the lights of the vineyard, beautifully lite, a glow around them both. “God, your beautiful.”  Whispering Yuuri.

 Victor pulling Yuuri in, his lips pressed up against Yuuri’s, those soft, subtle lips upon his.  

 Kissing Yuuri was like tasting the sweetest wine.  Always wanting more.

[bbclesmis]

MASTERPIECE: LES MISERABLES: Actor and executive producer David Oyelowo on the new PBS series – Exclusive Interview

The actor talks playing the obsessed Javert

The new six-part drama LES MISERABLES on PBS MASTERPIECE, currently airing Sunday nights (it will repeat at an earlier hour in June), after premiering earlier this year in the U.K. on BBC1. David Oyelowo (pronounced “oh-YELLOW-oh”) plays the fanatical Inspector Javert. Oyelowo is also an executive producer on this non-musical adaptation of Victor Hugo’s massive 1862 novel set in France as revolution is brewing. Reformed convict Jean Valjean (Dominic West), a genuinely good man, devotes his life to helping others, but Javert is determined to track him down.

Oyelowo is also an executive producer on this LES MISERABLES, although it is not in conjunction with his Yoruba Saxon Productions company. Oyelowo, originally from Oxford, England, was a regular on the British espionage thriller MI-5. His film credits on both sides of the Atlantic include SHOOT THE MESSENGER, AS YOU LIKE IT, THE LAST KING OF SCOTLAND, RISE OF THE PLANET OF THE APES, LINCOLN, JACK REACHER, LEE DANIELS’ THE BUTLER, NIGHTINGALE (for which he received both Emmy and Golden Globe Outstanding Lead Actor nominations, and was co-produced by Yoruba Saxon), SELMA, QUEEN OF KATWE, THE CLOVERFIELD PARADOX and A WRINKLE IN TIME. Oyelowo has also starred in the features CAPTIVE, FIVE NIGHTS IN MAINE, and A UNITED KINGDOM, all of which Yoruba Saxon was involved in producing.

Series adapter Andrew Davies says at a press session for LES MISERABLES that he had initially thought that it might be interesting to have a black Jean Valjean and a white Javert, but Oyelowo says he was only approached to play Javert. “We have seen the reverse of that dynamic numerous times. And the truth of the matter is, contrary to some popular belief, not every black man living in Europe in the early 1800s was some kind of slave or subservient in some way. Napoleon had black generals in his army, again, little-known fact. I am always looking for ways to shake things up for myself. And so what was actually of more interest to me was, I had had the opportunity to play a number of virtuous, good men in my career, and I was fascinated by this character who is so obsessed in his pursuit of another human being, down to what he deems to be his own moral compass, in a sense. He is not, in his own mind, a villain. In fact, he is the hero of his own story. In relation to Jean Valjean, I’m the righteous one. I’m the one doing God’s work. I’m the one who is the law keeper, the law abider. And that was a very fascinating thing for me to get to play, knowing, as David the actor and the fan of the book, that’s not necessarily how everyone else would perceive it. But how do you stick to that for six episodes? And that’s the opportunity that Andrew afforded, in that you have so much more context around that over the six episodes than you could ever have with the musical, as it were.”

It hadn’t occurred to Oyelowo before that he’d like to play Javert or that he’d ever be approached to do the role, he says. “But the thing that really struck me about him was his Old Testament quality, in relation to Jean Valjean’s New Testament quality. Javert thinks he is judgment. He is the law. He is what he deems to be righteous. And I think, on the other hand, Jean Valjean is hope. He is faith. He is the pursuit of redemption. He is love. And those two things not necessarily should be at odds, but they are in the context of this piece. It’s really interesting to find out that Victor Hugo based both Javert and Jean Valjean on the same person. This man, who he based his characters on, embodies these qualities, and that was the clue for me. And Javert sees himself in Jean Valjean, and it’s the part of himself he hates. Javert was born in prison to criminal parents, and that is part of his identity. So when he sees this man, who is the embodiment of that side of him he hates, he feels the need to destroy him. And that’s what he is going to do until that window through which he sees Jean Valjean turns into a mirror, and he realizes that the person he hates is himself, which is the reason he ends up destroying himself. So in many ways, those were the things that really drew me to this story.”

And then, in response to a question, Davies declares firmly that he hates the very popular musical version of LES MISERABLES.

“Noooo!” Oyelowo cries, and proceeds to expressively mime someone in slow motion trying and failing to prevent a terrible accident.

Later, Oyelowo discusses this and much more about the new LES MISERABLES.

ASSIGNMENT X: You’ve done press sessions for the new LES MISERABLES before. Had you ever before heard Andrew Davies say that he hates the musical LES MIZ?

DAVID OYELOWO: I’ve read it. I haven’t been there while he’s said it live.

AX: I’m wondering how they’re going to transcribe your reaction to that …

OYELOWO: I’m wondering, too. That was my inside voice coming out. [laughs] The truth of the matter is, there are many people who love the musical. And we want people who love the musical to watch the miniseries, because they’re going to get so much more context for these characters they love, and this story they love. Can I just say that I love the musical, for the record. But then there’s the other side – there are people who have read the book and love the book and don’t like musicals and haven’t seen any sort of tele-visual or cinematic rendition of it, and they also hopefully will get to see made flesh and blood those characters in this story that they love.

AX: You’re known for a lot of film work and a lot of stage work. You’re not so much known for television, though you’ve done some episodics here and there. Is this a form that you’d like to do more of, or is this a one-off, or how do you view it?

OYELOWO: No, it’s just the way things have gone. I just look for great material, and this was certainly that. The writing was indisputable, the story is indisputable, the iconic nature of the story is indisputable. So it’s less for me as to whether it’s TV or film, it’s more, am I going to be challenged by it, is it something that I feel could be good, to be perfectly frank. Probably a long-running series isn’t something I’m in a hurry to do yet, if I’m totally honest. But now, with cable and ten-episode arcs a year, there are all sorts of great ways to do television that doesn’t take you away from film and theatre, which is something that’s very important to me as well.

AX: Is part of what’s appealing to you about playing Javert, not just that he’s like this Old Testament burning bush fury, but that he’s got these issues of projecting his persona onto another man, and the self-hatred, and the unawareness of the self-hatred?

OYELOWO: Yes, exactly right. I think that’s the thing that makes a character truly interesting, is when you watch them in real time finding things out about themselves, and about the world around them, especially when those things are at odds with their own beliefs. Because I think that, again, is what it is to be a human being.

AX: Have you seen any of the previous non-musical film versions of LES MISERABLES?

OYELOWO: No, I didn’t, and to be perfectly honest, one of the things that appealed to me so much about LES MIZ, when you think about this 1,500-page novel, to boil that down to two hours of a film, it just seems inconceivable to me, in a satisfying way. I think with a musical, by virtue of that form, you know that you’re kind of seeing something in more primary colors. It’s more of a riff on the story, as opposed to the meat, but that was the thing I felt reading these six episodes, is that, my goodness. It’s actually extraordinary, talking to Andrew, because you’re still going, “I still don’t know how you did it. I’m talking to you right now, and I don’t know how you took this tome and distilled it down to these six episodes.” That to me is the satisfying thing, that it’s more than just what a film can afford you as well.

AX: Had you worked on an Andrew Davies script before?

OYELOWO: No. It’s the first time I’ve seen a lot of him, obviously.

AX: You have a production company, and you are an executive producer on LES MISERABLES, but your production company is not involved …

OYELOWO: I have a production company, Yoruba Saxon, but I’m on this as a freelance EP. One of the main things I did was bring [LES MISERABLES] to PBS, was to make that happen, because I was very keen to make sure that the North American roll-out was robust, and was going to be one whereby people who may not otherwise see this story will get to see it.

AX: Did you have a preexisting business association with MASTERPIECE executive producer Rebecca Eaton?

OYELOWO: Yes. Because we’d worked on SMALL ISLAND together, and we’d become friends doing that. And the truth of the matter is, [the producers of LES MISERABLES] considered a lot of companies, and we wanted to make sure we went with the company who was going to have it be one of their flagship shows, a place where they were going to get the word out. There are so many channels now, there are so many outlets doing great work, and to peak your head above the crowd is something that requires passion, belief, money, and intention, and this was the place that felt like our show was going to get the best treatment.

AX: What else are you working on right now?

OYELOWO: I’m about to direct a film called THE WATER MAN. We start that in May. That’s a story about a young boy who’s looking for this mythic figure who he believes can save his mother from cancer. That’s going to be my directorial debut, so I’m very excited about that. That’s [being produced by] Yoruba Saxon.

AX: And what would you most like people to know about LES MISERABLES?

OYELOWO: Well, that the story they already know, but maybe don’t have the full context of, I believe we bring that context, and the musical that people love, they are going to see more depth than maybe they knew was there. And for those who know nothing about LES MIZ, it’s a timeless story that really looks at one man’s journey towards redemption and hope through real adversity, and I think that’s a pretty universal story. [And another] man’s descent from what he deems to be the moral compass into a reflection of himself as actually being amoral in relation to this very moral man.

This interview was conducted during PBS’s portion of the Winter 2019 Television Critics Association (TCA) press tour.

https://www.assignmentx.com/2019/masterpiece-les-miserables-actor-and-executive-producer-david-oyelowo-on-the-new-pbs-series-exclusive-interview/

[betweenironyandsilver]

MUSICAL ASKS: ALL! OF! THEM! (or as many as you feel like doing)

only u would want to know my shitty Thots on musicals lmao (jk ily)

1. Favorite (Reprise)

for pure head-bobbing enjoyment, this honor goes to paris/look down (les mis), but for narrative purposes, i would pick the just you wait reprise (my fair lady) because i love how you can see how much has changed 

2. Best Act 1 ending.

one day more (les mis) sure does get the blood pumpin'

3. If you could go back in time to see a certain production, which one would it be?

i would kill to see the original my fair lady with julie andrews and rex harrison

4. Who should write a musical?

i guess she already has her own musical tv show, but i would definitely go see an entire musical by rachel bloom

5. The routine you recreate when home alone:

nothing, really lol...i have the bad trait trifecta of being very self-conscious, a mediocre singer and also unable to dance

6. A duet you’d love to perform and with whom.

i want to perform confrontation (les mis) with someone, doesn’t even matter whomst

also i love bad idea (waitress) but i sadly do not have the vocal capacity for those higher notes so probably no one else should be subjected to that 

7. A musical everyone can learn from.

sorry that like half these answers so far are les mis-related, but i do think that les mis has something for everyone, and it’s about LOVE and REDEMPTION and FORGIVENESS

8. Favorite set design EVER.

the great comet set design (or rather, theatre design) made me gasp out loud

9. Favorite person to play (insert role)

the main musical i follow extensively through multiple casts throughout the years is my fair lady lol and my favorite person to play eliza doolittle (excluding julie andrews obviously, who is god-tier and on a different plane of existence from us mortals) is lisa o’hare

10. Best digital #ham4ham

i didn’t watch these because by then i was getting a little fatigued about hamilton lol

11. Make up a name and the ingredients for a Waitress pie.

Too Scared to Graduate, Too Tired to Keep College-ing pie, which is filled with lemons and tears

12. Best tap number.

i love the little tap battle in bottom’s gonna be on top (something rotten!) 

14. Express your love for the orchestras!

they’re all valid and lovely!!!!!! when i saw les mis at west end, we could look into the pit from our seats which was so cool

15. Favorite musical written by (insert composer, lyricist)

you didn’t give me a composer/lyricist lol so im gonna say that i love alan menken and howard ashman and my favorite musical by them is beauty and the beast

16. Which part (or parts) do you sing in One Day More?

you can sing all of them if you’re not a coward

17. A line that never fails to make you laugh.

My father newly dead and the funeral boiled eggs now coldly furnished for the marriage table/methinks another chef might have whisked our desperate eggs together as one (from something rotten!)

and i would be a lot more zen/and i would punch a lot of men/if i had my time again (from groundhog day)

18. An upcoming production you’re excited for.

THE MOULIN ROUGE MUSICAL IN BOSTON!!!!!!!!!!! i wanna see it so bad

19. Do you have any funny misheard lyrics from a showtune?

hmm, none that come to mind rn

20. A musical you would NEVER see with your parents.

well my parents don’t really like musicals so we’re already a little out of options, but they would probably hate musicals that are a little “out there”

21. Musicals can introduce you to new cultures, interests, fancy words and so on. Name 3 things you’ve learned from musicals.

i felt like i was missing a lot of the references in jesus christ superstar (and i was) when i initially listened to it, so i went and read up on the various biblical stories

after watching les mis in high school, i went and actually read les mis, which was fun, and that led me to read some other stuff by victor hugo as well

i didn’t know anything about leo frank before listening to parade, and it was interesting to read about

22. Favorite OBC.

my fair lady OBC forever, we stan a singing legend with a supposed four-octave range

23. Cast recording you know by heart.

>open my itunes 

>only one album, the sound of music (film version)

>3000 plays

24. Cast recording for a long car ride.

i’m a little over hamilton but it is VERY fun to sing along to in the car

25. Favorite Miscast performance.

:( i don’t really watch these, sorry

26. I really like these ones so: make 2 musical related confessions.

i think wicked is overrated

 i kind of wish we would stop making musicals about random movies

27. Showtune of the day:

‘s wonderful (funny face)

28.  Who would play you in a musical about your life?

my life is not exciting enough for a musical

29. Who would play your best friend in a musical about your life?

see above

30.  Who would play your romantic interest in a musical about your life?

romance?? in this economy?? 

31. 2 solos you’d love to perform.

if i had the vocal capacity, i would love to sing vanilla ice cream (she loves me) and stars (les mis)

32. Describe yourself with 3 musical theatre characters.

i’m very bad at describing my own qualities lol

33. A character that inspires you to be better.

jean valjean, hardened embittered convict turned loving father and CHRIST FIGURE

34. A showtune that always puts you in a good mood.

she loves me (from she loves me lol) is so fun and happy. the bit where he goes “i wonder why i didn’t want her/i want her/that’s the thing that matters/and matters are improving daily!” is so fun!

35. A showtune that makes you feel melancholic.

she used to be mine (waitress) makes me think about how i’m not really very happy with where i am in life, but also that i don’t know how to really address these issues

36. Best showstopper.

something rotten!/make an omelette; a bunch of dancing eggs on the stage that unfold their costumes to turn into omelettes? random musical and shakespeare references? could your faves ever

37. A place you consider to be your Santa Fe.

hmm...i guess greece?

38. The name of the prettiest theater you’ve been to.

lyric opera of chicago owns my entire ass

39. The most intense scene from a musical.

el tango de roxanne makes me go into cardiac arrest every damn time

40. A great cover of a showtune:

hmm i can’t think of anything off the top of my head

41. Put your phone on shuffle and write the first 2 showtunes that appear.

valjean’s soliloquy (les mis) and looking down the barrel of a gun (gentleman’s guide to love and murder)

(the worst part of this one was that the first two songs that came up on shuffle were showtunes)

42. Best design of a Playbill.

i don’t actually have particularly strong feelings about any playbill designs, they are mostly all nice!

[ellanainthetardis]

Could you do a prompt where haymitch learns what Effie is short for?? (I love your blog btw)

Here it is! [X]

Eleven’s Escort Is A Tramp

“This is a tragedy.” Chaff sighed in his glassof whiskey with entirely too much drama and gloom.

Haymitch exchanged an amused look with Finnick.The boy wisely took a sip of his own drink, letting his twinkling eyes roamover the gardens. The party was taking place at a sponsor’s manor, up in thehills, and Haymitch had to admit it wasn’t the best one he had ever attended.Everyone had more or less deserted the ballroom and its depressing stringquartet to mingle in the gardens but half the guests had already left in searchof funnier places to spend the night in. Victors and escorts, on the other hand,were stuck there at the risk of vexing their host and possibly lose asponsoring offer. He didn’t know what was keeping the Capitols who had chosento say but he was ready to bet on business deals or social arrangements.

“The one with the green wig isn’t bad.” heshrugged, tilting his own glass in the direction of the woman who had caught hiseyes. Well… She hadn’t really caughthis eyes. Not much in the way of legs. But she had a generous cleavage and thatwas right down his best friend’s alley. “Try her.”

Chaff studied the woman from afar, made a faceand swallowed a big mouthful. “From behind maybe. With my eyes closed.”

Finnick chuckled a little. “Didn’t you hook upwith that sponsor just yesterday?”

“That was business.” Chaff dismissed, wavinghis stump in the air. “Well… Pleasure too, Jalys’s never boring, but that wasan easy one. I want the thrill of the hunt.”

Haymitch choked on his whiskey and half-coughedhalf-laughed, a little relieved his escort wasn’t around to hear that kind ofdiscourse. Somehow, he was sure he would end up being blamed for Eleven’svictor’s casualness and less than stellar approach when it came to women.

“What about you, Haymitch?” Finnick asked. “Noone interests you?”

There was a touch of teasing in the boy’s voicebut it was mostly hesitant. The kid was a little shit and he liked hanging out with them but Mags didn’t always lethim because they were apparently a bad influence – oh, it was said with loveand fondness but she wasn’t exactly thrilled with the fact they tended to bringher a drunk seventeen year old every time Finnick stuck around them. The kidwas still trying to get his footing around the other victors.

“Chaff’s not wrong.” he conceded. “Not manywomen here worth the trouble.”

“Plus, he knows he can get some tonight if hewants to so that helps.” his best friend mocked. “Must be nice having an escortready to fill your every need.”

Chaff had drunk too much and Haymitch had beenlagging behind on that account. Eleven’s victor sounded a bit bitter, as if itwas particularly unfair that Twelve not only had the acknowledged best escortof the lot but also one that was willing to sleep with him. Not that it wasofficial. Or that simple.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” hemuttered.

Finnick’s good mood seemed to have taken aturn. Haymitch rolled his eyes, annoyed with his friends. Between the one whowanted to screw Trinket because he didn’t think he would find anyone better towarm his bed that night and the one who had been sporting a silly crush for heras much as long as he had known her… Well.

“Sure, you don’t.” Chaff snickered. “Fine. Keepyour secret. We’re gonna pretend we believe you. Right, kid?”

“You really need to stop with that.” hecountered before Finnick could open his mouth and make it worse. “I told youI’m not fucking her.”

“And I told you I believe you.” his friendretorted, snatching another glass from a passing tray. “I’m sure she wouldn’tbe happy to go down on her knees for you tonight if you asked.” Chaff wrinkledhis nose at the thought. “Does she do that?‘Cause, you know… She’s got that huge pole in her ass… Though, I guess it’salways the quietest ones, yeah? Maybe she likes actually having poles in herass… You ever…”

“Don’tfinish this sentence.” Haymitch warned in a snarl.

He downed the rest of his glass and handed itto Finnick before storming away from his friends and their stupidity. When theywere both equally drunk, he tended to find Chaff hilarious. When he was toosober for his own good, a drunk Chaff talking about Effie in that casual waymade his blood boil.

Not that he cared about her but…

She had been his escort for six years now andhis lover for four and he figured that meant she had earned some respect,Capitol drone or not. There was a line in the sand when it came to her and mostpeople knew to stay on the right side of it. She was an escort and she couldhandle herself and for those reasons he never got involved when other victorsmocked her a little but sometimes… Sometimes it went too far. And he felt theneed to punch someone.

His mood brightened a bit when he spotted her abit on the edge of the crowd, studying the groups of people wandering around,clearly assessing which one should be her next target. She was wearing a navyblue long dress with a puffy tulle skirt with a bustier that came up in themiddle to weave around her neck in a sort of silver collar, the fabric then randown her spine to reattach at the back of the skirt, leaving the rest of herback bare. Not the worst one. The navy wig with its puffy hairdo almost lookedblack in the dimmed lights and didn’t bother him all that much.

Her lips quirked up when she spotted hisapproach, her spider-like faked eyelashes batting in obvious amusement. Shedidn’t say anything and she didn’t let him get close enough to talk, shestarted retreating in the shadows, leading him in a merry chase toward thedeserted side of the house, far enough from the party that they wouldn’t bebothered.

When he could barely hear the sound of voicesanymore, he grabbed her wrist and pinned her to a nearby pillar. Her laughechoed in the night, bright and full of joy. It eased something in him, like always. She didn’t laugh often, not really, her fake one didn’t count, andhe relished in it.

“Well, that was a waste of an evening.” shesighed, placing a hand on his chest. “And so boring…”

“It’s about to become more interesting.” heteased.

She giggled and he took that as a tacitpermission to start something risqué.It wouldn’t have been their first time having a quickie in a public place afterall. He leaned in, his fingers curling over her hipbone, propping his other armon the stone pillar over her head.  

“And I forgot my camera at home… What a shame.” someone snorted to his left. “Iam certain Caesar would have loved afew pictures for his morning show.”

Effie pushed him but he was already steppingback, scanning the darkness for… He spotted the red glow of a cigarette just asViola Summercket stepped out of the porch’s shadow, a cruel smirk on her orangepainted lips. What was it with Eleven that night?

“Lurking in the dark…” Effie hissed, crossingher arms in front of her chest. “Whyam I not surprised?”

“I could say the same about you.” Violaretorted, amused when Effie was angry. Her dark eyes passed over Haymitch withopen loathing. “I must say your tastein men always baffled me but, really,Euphemia… Of all the scandalous affairs you could choose from, couldn’t you dobetter than the famous drunk?”

Haymitch lifted his eyebrows, more interestedby the name than by whatever bullshit Eleven’s escort was sprouting. That was the norm. She and Effie hatedeach other.

“He is handsy when he is drunk.” she dismissed.“You saw nothing more than me pushing him away.”

“Save it for Caesar.” Viola laughed, mocking.She took a slow drag of her cigarette and blew it out without an apparent carein the world. “I wonder how your family will take it… Letting that oaf screwyou in plain sight… Why, your mother might justdisown you… But, then again… If rumors are true, she is simply looking for anexcuse, isn’t she?”

“Forgot how youtried to get into my pants, already?” he sneered, not liking at all the wayEffie stiffened next to him. “Forgot how I turned you down?”

Sleeping with people to get jobs was in Viola’shandbook. She had tried to seduce him into giving her the position of hisescort and, when he had refused, she had gone over his head to the HeadGamemaker and had screwed him instead.She had only lasted a year in Twelve. He had actually threatened to kill her ifshe wasn’t removed – and he had been half serious too.

“I am not responsible for your drunkendeliriums, Haymitch.” Eleven’s escort dismissed with disdain. “I would nottouch you if you were the last man on Earth. I have much more taste than dearEuphemia.”

“You are a tramp and there is not a soul inthis town who does not know that.” Effie huffed.

Viola flicked ashes off her cigarette andlooked her up and down before wandering back in the direction of the party. “Goodluck dealing with those nasty rumors in the morning.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, Effiestomped her foot. “I hate her. Whata… What a…”

“Bitch?”he supplied.

“Yes.”she hissed. “Oh, she will pay for this. Just you wait. I will findsomething that will tarnish her reputation and destroy her.”

He gently pushed her back against the pillar.She was too busy glaring at her archenemy’s retreating back to notice. He wasmostly unconcerned. Viola and Effie’s feud had been going on for as long as hecould remember and rumors about Effie and him rose and fell regularly. Theywere used to dealing with it.

“I’m sure you will.” he humored her, his lipsstretching into a smirk. “Euphemia.”

She groaned, her irritation switching targets fast. He had wondered what Effie wasshort for but the rare times he had asked she had eluded the question. He hadnever really insisted because he didn’t really care. But he should have knownit would be something awful like that.

“She calls me that to irk me.” she pouted. “Do not irk me.”

“You love it when I irk you.” he snorted,lowering his head to nuzzle the tender skin under her jaw. “Makes you wet.”

She tilted her head to the side to give himbetter access to her throat but she also sighed regretfully. “There is no pointgiving those rumors more fuel. We should wait until we are in the car.”

She pushed him away firmly.

It was his turn to pout. “I want you.”

“And you can have me.” she promised. “In thecar. When we leave.”

She ducked under his arm and sauntered away,cheeky and confident like only she could be.

“You just wait. Euphemia.” he called after her.

She glared at him over her shoulder.

Yeah, he decided, that was never getting old.

[hoshi-kawaii]

If It’s You

A  Yuuri !! On Ice fan fiction.

Pairing: Victuuri

Genre: Angst, Romance

Summary : Convinced he’s just being played with, Yuri gets fed up with Victor’s misleading behavior and confronts him in a rage just to deeply regret it a moment later. He was convinced there was no way for such a man to love him, but to Victor, “if it’s Yuuri, I do not mind.” Post Canon. ff.net

“If it’s Yuuri, I do not mind.”

Yuuri’s ears immediately burned red as the words left Victor’s mouth. He looked over at his mentor’s face, anger and hurt growing at the sight of his carefree smile. How can he always say that like it’s nothing? Georgi huffed at Victor’s response. It was always like this. Yuuri could not exactly say he hated the intimacy with which Victor treated him, but as time went on it never lead where he wished. A few flirtatious words, a small touch, a bright smile. All actions capable of making Yuuri’s heart flutter, but he knew Victor did not carry any special meaning.

But as soon as these precious moments are noticed by others, the two were always scolded.

“If anyone else had heard you right now, they would think there was something going on.”

“Victor, if you touch him like that, your fans will get the wrong idea.”

“The press would go crazy if they saw that.”

Every time Victor would turn to the intruder with a smile and reply, “If it’s Yuuri, I do not mind.”

Sliding out of the older man’s grasp, Yuuri skated to exit the rink and head back into the locker room. He no longer cared about practice. He needed to get away from Victor, from the man whose careless words could make his heart race with hope and dread all at once. He could hear that same voice call after him with confusion, but he could not let it stop.

As if he could ever let Victor see him this way.

Picking up his water, he took a big gulp before letting his body slump onto the bench. Alone inside the four walls of the locker room, he allowed his face to fall to his hands and a pained groan to escapes his lips.

The first few times he was not bothered. If anything, he was elated. The great Victor Nikiforov was thinking of him as special, right? He ventured to let himself hope that this meant the man he had a crush on his entire life saw Yuuri in the same light, but as time went on there was no progress. Victor had clung to him, kissed him, and even accepted his gift of a golden ring and yet their relationship had never really moved forward.

There was no other explanation: Victor was toying with him.

This had been made abundantly clear in Barcelona when Phichit had seen their rings and read them as a sign of marriage. Yuuri had been mortified, but Victor just brushed the comment away by backhandedly stating that Yuuri had yet to prove himself worthy of the man with five gold medals.

After everything he had learned and all the ways he had changed since meeting Victor, Yuuri was still lacking.

If it’s Yuri, I do not mind.

The words sound almost like a confession, but they repeatedly met Yuuri’s ears with despair.

The brunette had just replaced his glasses and started unlacing his skates when the door leading to the rink was torn open and his sanctuary dissolved.

“Are you alright, Yuuri?”

Victor entered the room, his perfect air and poise intact despite the film of sweat that coated his skin and shimmering hair. Yuuri, with his aura of doom, surprised himself with a sudden masochistic streak. Head tilted with his glasses to shield his eyes, he asked, “Are you sure you should be leaving practice? You could give everyone the wrong idea. ”

Blue eyes lit up brightly as Victor replied with a smirk and soft voice, “If it’s Yuuri, I do not mind.”

If he had said anything else with that tone, Yuuri might have believed it.

“Stop.”

Yuuri did not think he could get so relieved by a trap he set up and walked in on his own. He jumped to his feet immediately, blood boiling as fuel for a rare moment of courage and confrontation. He lifted his gaze to meet Victor’s startled expression head-on. It was a bit awkward given the considerable height advantage Victor held with his skates on, but Yuuri stood his ground.

“You’re always saying, ‘If it’s Yuuri, I do not mind.’ Do not you know how dangerous that is? Forget about how other people would see it, do not you think that I could get the wrong idea? ”

Fear leaked into Victor’s eyes and mingled with the blue that Yuuri had always liked so much. It poured ice over the fire in his veins and he didn’t know if he would have the strength to continue. Oh, how it hurt. Yuuri shut his eyes tight, his head lowering once again. The sadness cracked through the anger in his voice, but he decided to keep talking.

“Did you ever stop thinking that I might mind, Victor? That could cause a problem for me to lie in bed every night, haunted by the ghost of your sugared words? "Brown eyes opened again to meet the icy blue. There’s no going back now I’ve said this much . He took a step forward, pushing Victor flush against the lockers with confidence regained. "That I could toss and turn for hours longing for the comfort of your body pressed against mine?”

Yuuri reached up on his toes, lips to Victor’s ear, “Did you ever think that I could lie awake and sweaty at the memory of your hot lips on mine?”

He pulled back, captivated by the flush of Victor’s face for long enough to think he might be a sadist instead, before refocusing on the topic at hand.

“If you keep saying such things, Victor, it will not be long before I’m in love with you.”

He said it, and the embarrassment of his actions hit him immediately. His face somehow hit a whole new level of red as he stepped back even farther. Even with wishing he would be stuck down with lightning where he stood, Yuuri found a sense of relief. All that was left was Victor’s response.

Yuuri waited … and waited … and the burn of his face began to fade. He finally looked up, finding Victor frozen in shock. Was it really so surprising that such behavior could give Yuuri these thoughts? The silver-haired idol showed no sign of moving, so Yuuri took this as his cue to leave.

“Shinji rarenai *,” Yuuri muttered, grabbing his bag and shoes and heading toward the exit. He had no idea where he would go, considering he was staying at a guest in Victor’s apartment, but there was to be a hotel or something nearby. That’s right, he’d pick up his stuff from Victor’s place, go to a hotel and start looking up flights back to Hatetsu. He could go home and do his best to forget this ever happened.

A pair of armies seized him and Yuri found himself standing in the doorway between the locker room and the hallway leading to the lobby. Victor’s grip around his chest grew tighter and he could feel the sob that racked through the older man’s body. The back of his neck grew wet as Victor leaned his head rest on Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri froze, his heart contracting as he realized what was happening.

Victor was crying.

He had made Victor cry .

Regret took over all feeling as Yuuri stood at a loss for words. In his mind, the one he loved was always smiling, but here stood Victor soaking Yuuri’s sweatshirt in salty tears. It was all because he had to go and say those disgusting things.

“Yuuri.” Victor’s voice quivered as he whispered the name.

“Victor-” The Japanese skater could not think of what else to say, “I-I’m sorry. I went too far. "A hot tear found its way down Yuuri’s cheek. He lost his temper and said too much, and now he would have to leave Victor’s side.

"Yuuri.” Victor spoke again. “Yuuri, if it’s you, I do not mind.”

If Yuuri had been confused before, he did not know how to label what he felt now. Why would you say that now of all times?

“If it’s you,” Victor started again, “You can love me.”

な に? *

“It’s you, I want you to love me.”

な ん で? *

“Yuuri … If it’s you … Could I love you too?”

え—?! ?? !!! *

Yuuri found his composure had left the building. He turned around, tripping slightly on the bag he did not realize he had dropped. “What? Victor? What are you-? ”  

Victor fought to keep Yuuri close to him, causing the two to stumble and land one over the other on the locker room floor.

The confused Yuuri looked down at Victor’s form below him, his breath catching as he studied the desperation in Victor’s eyes: still and shocked as ice, but certainly not cold.

“Do not go, Yuuri … Onegaishimasu *.” He whispered.

Yuuri’s eyes somehow found a way to grow even wider. On one hand, he was still majorly confused and not even sure what was happening now was even real, but Victor Nikiforov was begging him to stay in Japanese and goddamn if he was not the sexiest thing in all of creation.

“Onegaishimasu, no no Yuuri *.”

Those four words were all it took for the twenty-four-year-old Japanese silver medalist to completely give in. All reservations aside, Yuuri lowered his face to hover just above Victor’s, studying the melted pools that begged him to finish closing the distance.

“If it’s you, Victor, I’ll be yours." 

Japanese Guide:

Shinji rarenai - Unbelievable

なに? -   Nani? - What? (Should this have "ka”?)

なんで? -   Nande? - Why? (This too?)

え—?! ?? !!! - Ehhhhhhh? !!! ?? !!! - WHAAAAATTTTTTT? !!! ?? !!!

Onegaishimasu - Please

Onegaishimasu, hour no Yuuri. - Please, my Yuuri. (I do not technically know if the placement if this sentence is right, but it serves its purpose.)