#victorzsaszxreader

[klbwriting]

This Is More Frustrating Than Murder

Fandom: Gotham

Pairing: Victor x Reader

Warnings: None

Request: Hello! Can I request a one shot for Victor from Gotham being stressed trying to find an anniversary gift for his wife? Can lead to sex.

Note: Did not lead to sex simply because I felt it went too fluffy to turn into smut!  I’m sorry if you want smut just let me know and I can rewrite (or do a whole other request) with all the smut you want :)

This was the most important mission Victor had ever had.  And the most complicated.  And annoying.  And all around terrible.  He had no idea what people go each other for an anniversary gift.  Not after the first year of marriage.  He had seen something about paper...or maybe gold...?  Who knew, he sure didn’t.  Either way, it was your first wedding anniversary together and he would be damned if you didn’t have something.  He would do anything to see that smile come to your face and nothing would stop him.  Except maybe for the brain block he was having on what to actually get. Victor was so clueless that after a month of fruitless searching he asked the only person who had ever been in a relationship that he knew. 

Jim Gordan would enter his apartment to see the hairless assassin sitting at his kitchen table eating a sandwich.  Jim quickly grabbed his gun but before he could even aim Victor had his own gun cocked and ready to fire if Jim tried to move.  Slowly the officer held up his hands in defeat and put the gun on the table.  Victor smile and slid it towards him while Jim opened a drawer hurriedly.

“You won’t find anything, not in the drawer and not under the table” Victor said as Jim sat down, hand feeling for the gun he normally had strapped there.  “They’re all out of the room and safe, you’ll get them back when we’re done and I’m gone.”  Jim’s eyes narrowed.

“Who did I piss off now?” he asked.  Victor shook his head, mouth full.

“No one, I’m here on personal business,” he said.  “I need help Jimbo, see, last year I got married...”

“ Mazel Tov ” Jim grunted, annoyed.  Victor smiled sarcastically and continued.

“...so I am needing a gift for my wife and well, I don’t know what to get for a first wedding anniversary and I figured you, a man who dates and grew up in a half decent home, might have an idea.”

“Why do I care?” the other man asked, bored.

“Because if you don’t tell me I’m going to handcuff you to that chair, eat all your food and then burn this whole building down around you,” Victor said, getting up from the table and getting a soda from the fridge before sitting down again.  Jim weighed his options, hating this entire thing but figuring the sooner he got the hitman out the better.

“Fine, well, I always go for jewelry, a nice stone, something small like earrings for the first anniversary, work your way up to rings and necklaces in a couple years,” he answered.  “My dad got my mom a plane ticket anywhere she wanted one year, another he got her a book she loved in first edition, nice message from the author.”  Victor nodded at all the suggestions. 

“Thanks Jimbo,” he said, standing up and heading out the door as if he didn’t just break into a detective’s house and hold him at gunpoint.

Several hours later and Victor was home and ready for you to see everything he had gotten you.  A whole set of emeralds, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, all from different owners, plane tickets to Paris for the spring, and a whole set of first editions.  Needless to say you were shocked and excited at your surprises.

“How many people did you rob to get these?” you asked, looking at him.  He smirked a little.

“2, but they were on my list anyway, so no harm no foul,” he said.  “You like?”

“I love all of it!” you said, running over and kissing him deeply.  He kissed you back, watching you pull away with that smile he loved plastered on your face.

[j-diamond]

I don’t who to do next...

Since you guys are the people who actually read my stories then it is you who should decide who I do next. 

Comment who the next one shot should be about.

[gothamandsmut]

Snitches Get Stitches (Part Two)

The next few days were eerily peaceful. No phone calls and she certainly didn’t see any of Oswald’s thugs near her apartment. In fact, there’d been a slump in crime in her neighborhood as of recent. She suspected Oswald’s involvement. 

A few days of radio silence, and then a letter. 

With shaking hands, she tore open the envelope, peering inside cautiously. Her heart stopped. A few crisp hundred dollar bills were tucked neatly inside. The inside of the envelope adorned simply with a cursive ‘O’. 

Her eyes downcast, the next day she entered the club just after sunrise. The envelope stuffed in her back pocket half-heartedly. Perhaps it was all a trap, and she was meant to give it back. She hadn’t even removed the bills from their casing. 

The bald assassin’s curious eyes followed her form as she shambled tiredly towards Penguin’s office. Once her clothed back disappeared behind the heavy door, Victor watched as his fingers flexed barely beneath his leather gloves. He needed a kill. He was terribly bored babysitting his patron’s club. An occasional fight would break out, but those seldom ended in death, and the thugs typically dispersed them. He needed a thrill. Something new, a challenge. He stared at the ornate ceiling blankly, frowning passively. 

Hearing a sudden scuffle, he refocused on the room’s atmosphere, finding a loan shark being thrown out of Penguin’s office savagely. Victor smiled, watching as his boss emerged, slightly red in the face. 

The man blithered out apologies, unaware that they fell on deaf ears. “I-I meant no offense, I swear!” 

Oswald’s lip was curled, and he inhaled sharply. “Zsasz.” 

The man’s struggles became more panicked. 

“Yes?” Victor answered apathetically, his head tilted slightly as he watched the events transpire.  

“Take him out back.” 

Victor smiled. 

The man whimpered, continuing to plead quietly. 

Oswald continued. “And it’s raining. Get someone to carry your umbrella.” With that, he turned on his heel and left. 

Y/N watched helplessly as his gaze fell on her. 

“New girl. Umbrella rack’s in the corner. Fetch.” He hissed quietly as he passed her, nudging the doomed man’s form with his foot. 

(AN: Sorry for the shorter chapter, but any update is an update, right? This series is a bit of a slow burn so it might be a bit before anything builds between Reader and Zsasz. Thanks for your patience again.))

[ahaveningotham-blog]

A Haven in Gotham 19

Gotham was beginning to learn a new word for fear. It was on a few lips to start, only whispered in hushed circumstances, recommended between criminals who needed someone taken out with a message. It didn't take long for that murmur to grow, though. The black clad, red haired demon who killed for pay, always giving the police a fitting tableau to find; tongues nailed to tables for rats, hands delicately dissected and laid out, nerves still connected for thieves. What had began as a thought had grown into a legend, a killer dancing through Gotham. The Heathen was running amok. Jim wasn't shy in letting his Captain know what he thought about her. He refused to call her Heathen, still using her real name, to protest that had they sought to get her help rather than put her out in the cold, she would not have relapsed. Barnes wouldn't hear of it, assured that her breakdown had been imminent. "Just focus on catching her," his Captain snapped "then we can debate moral philosophy with the cold blooded killer." She wasn't shy. Her 'art' was made for the viewing public, and it was always clear it was hers. Yet for months, Victor searched for her, only to lose her scent just when it seemed like he had her in his hands. She was like a kiss just as the warmth of her lips faded, a trace of perfume as she walked away. Just barely out of sight, a hair out of reach. Snow had fallen on Gotham by the time he saw her again. He was at work; hunting down a lying former captain under Penguin's rule. The cold bit against his skin as his underlings circled around him, helping to corner his latest victim. "You don't steal from Penguin." His words were short as a single bullet between the eyes finished the man off; he couldn't help but wonder what Heathen would have done if she had been with him. His minions were sandwiching the man's body into his own car's trunk as Victor watched the flakes falling under the light of a street lamp. His mind snapped to attention as he heard two silenced gunshots, only to see his latest lackeys fall, both dead with gaping wounds in their eyes. The street was deserted, aside from him now; dark but for the glow of the street lamp. "It's freezing," he turned slow, a disembodied voice radiated from a pitch black alley “It’d be stupid of you to die of cold, sweetheart.” She took one step out, then another, the soft artificial light refracting the harshness of her black clothing, the vibrant blood red of her hair. Around her neck was that mauve scarf; knotted and protecting her from the chill of the night. "Heathen," he made steps towards her only to have her raise a gun on him. "It's good to see you," he breathed, raising his hands up but never losing her gaze. "You too, Victor. Just finishing up a job?" The two could always carry on the most regular conversation while doing the worst things. So often to each other.  "Yup. All wrapped up for the night," he dared to take another step; she held her ground but didn't move her weapon. "You have somewhere warm to sleep tonight?" She chuckled low; a steely tone in her voice that most would take as a reason to back off; but it only egged him on. "I've got a mark with a pretty nice penthouse. I'll be staying there til they find the body." He took a second step, then a third. She didn't move, didn't blink; what was the point of this? "Sounds nice. Bet mine is nicer." This time she moved towards him, their eyes still locked onto the other's. "I'm sure it is. Have you been keeping up with my masterpieces?" He had hoped that certain hits, the ones with clean, precise kills only including her name signed in blood, had been for him. "Talented as ever. Your real skill was always in painting." The were barely inches from each other now; her gun had moved to sit just under his jaw, ready to open the top of his skull at any moment. "Maybe you can give me an art class sometime." "You should be so lucky," she eyed the open trunk behind him, the bodies scattered around it. "There's one thing my new place is missing though." Victor raised his brow expectantly. "A bath tub." He grinned, remembering her old traditions. "Well isn't that a happy coincidence? I do," their eyes fell on each other. "I could help you out." He felt the end of her weapon move from his chin to his forehead; she moved back to put a foot of distance between them. "Hold on now; if I'm going to go home with some man I just met," he snickered, straightening as she applied more pressure with her gun "I have a few rules." "Name them." "For one, he can't lay a hand on me unless I've told him so," she saw his mouth twitch with frustration. "I know how eager he can be." "Fine." He ran his tongue over his teeth, determined to break that rule. "Secondly, he'll help me get these bodies home. I'll be needing them." This he was far more receptive to, nodding profusely. "And finally... he owes me a proper conversation." Her mask faltered for a moment, shedding light on her motives for revealing herself. She was ready to talk, she had her questions. He grimaced; his view was that they always communicated best without words, but he knew there was no getting her home with no agreement. "Sure," he smiled as she left her hand fall, placing her piece back in its holster. "Let's get a move on sweetcheeks, it's freezing out here." The ex teammates made quick work of stacking the now 3 corpses into the open trunk before taking off across town. She watched as he put a little extra speed into the gas, his gloved hands gripped the steering tight. She could've sworn she'd seen light beads of sweat on his brow, but it was too dark to say for certain.

[klbwriting]

Well This is Unexpected...

Fandom: Gotham

Pairing: Zsasz x Reader

Warnings:  none, just fluffy

Summary: somehow, someway, love at first sight snuck up on Victor Zsasz

Victor Zsasz had spent years kidnapping and ransoming and killing anyone he was paid.  He enjoyed the work, enjoyed everything from beginning to end.  Until he met you.  Then he suddenly didn’t want to do the ransoming or the killing but he was sure happy to do the kidnapping.  

              You were just some judge’s daughter, sitting on a bench in the park that was scarcely populated at 7AM on a Saturday, giving him the perfect opportunity to sneak up on you.  He headed towards you, sitting next to her on the bench and holding the gun to your side.  You immediately froze, giving him a good look at you in profile.  Gorgeous hair and eyes, full of fear at the moment but he was pretty sure they would light up with happiness when you smiled.  In that instant Victor thought he felt his cold, dead heart skip a beat.  It was instantaneous and he knew you were coming with him but you were not going to be ransomed.  He would keep you safe.

              “Now I don’t want to hurt you so please, make this easy, there are some people after your father.  They paid me to come here and kidnap you but I seem to have had a change of heart.  You need to come with me or else someone will come along and do whatever they want to you,” he said, watching you from the corner of his eye.  You slowly nodded, only vaguely seeing the pale, bald man in your periphery.  He stood and you did as well, letting him lead you towards a parked car on the outskirts of the park.  You got in quietly and waited until he started driving before speaking.

              “Where are you taking me?  What’s your name?  Who wants me dead?” you rattled off, unsure of what you really wanted to know more.  Victor threw a sidelong glance at you as he drove, mulling over the questions in his head.

              “I’m taking you to my apartment.  My name is Victor Zsasz and some lowlife wants you dead, I’m not honestly sure which one, I was paid in advance,” he said as he pulled up at an apartment building in a seedy part of Gotham. He tossed a grungy jacket at you.  “Put that on, in this area someone will know you’re out of place here.”  You nodded and put on the jacket, letting him take you inside.  He locked up the apartment and made a call, telling whoever was on the other line that you had run off before he got to the park.  There had to be a mole, you were long gone by now.

              “Why did you lie?” you asked him, sitting on his couch while he got you a glass of water.  He thought over his answer, not sure how something like love at first sight could strike a killer like him but it appeared it had.

              “Because I don’t want anyone to hurt you.  I seem to have a soft spot for you face,” he said, sitting down across from you.  “You ever hear of love at first sight?”  You smiled a little and he had been right, even that little grin brought a new light to your eyes.  

              “I have heard of it and if you have fallen in love with me like that, I feel lucky since if not I’d be dead right now.  Plus you’re cute, I could enjoy being here with you,” you said.  Victor smiled some, figuring you were lying just to keep him happy.  He stood up.

              “I’m going to take a shower,” he said.  He figured when he came out you would be gone but to his surprise you were still there, sipping your water and looking over his books.   He watched you for a moment before you looked over, your eyebrows going up at him in a towel.

              “Is it my birthday?” you asked, smirking.  Victor found himself smirking back and shaking his head.   “You keep walking around like that I’m going to definitely like it here.”

[j-diamond]

I have you? (Zsasz x Reader)

This goes out to @miss-androgony  I am so sorry it took so long, but part 1 is done, and I’m already half way through with part 2.

   “Just this once.” You say following him. You were teens and as a teen you are supposed to try and figure out what you’re meant to do. That’s what you were doing, sort of…

  You lived in a family of three, your mother, your brother, and you. You were the most mature, and basically held the family together, even though you were but sixteen. Your mother didn’t really appreciate you and you would’ve left as soon as you could, were it not for your brother. You adored your brother, as did your mother- really the only thing you had in common. You wanted to give him a better life ever since his birth. He, having been bullied, grew up with a tough life. Seeing that made you hurt, because even though it didn’t look like it, you knew exactly how he felt. So you grew up fast, that way he never had to.

   “So what are we doing?” You ask him as you follow him through alleyways.    “You said you needed money. Right y/n/n?” He asks, stopping,    “Yes. But what of it V?” You ask him, confused.

   This was your friend Victor Zsasz. You had grown up together, and basically were inseparable. You met him in 4th grade, under the school stairs. He had been crying, he’d lost all his hair. ALL of it. No eyebrows, lashes, no hair anywhere. You’d been going there because that’s where you went when it all got a bit too much, ever since then you guys have been friends. Zsasz grew up to be daring, you well, you became a bit of a heart breaker. After puberty, you’d grew to be very beautiful. Boys fell for you just for your looks and that disgusted you because they didn’t like you, for you, the beautiful person inside. Zsasz constantly made fun of you because of it.

  “Now here me out?” He says as he holds your hands.   “V…” you say wearily,   “We need you. You’re a straight shot.” He says slowly.   “You don’t mean killing…” You say suspiciously.   “I do. But only if you want to.”

  You said yes. Both of you basically grew up to be the most feared people in Gotham. Victor Zsasz, the city renowned hit man, and Y/n L/n, also known as The Siren, The Spider, The Charmer and The Seducer, a female who preyed on people, charming both men and women alike, right before she kills them. Even though all of Gotham knew you were the most dangerous people there, they still did not fear you as though they should. And instead of doing something about it, you did nothing. For that’s the way you loved it.

   “One of Maroni’s men?” You asked looking at Falcone, he shakes his head,    “Yes, he has stolen some of my stocks, and I believe Maroni knows but is doing nothing about it. So you’re going to have to kill him in the most obvious way so that it does not look like it was us. Okay?” You and Victor exchange glances,    “Yes boss.” He says slyly, this was going to be fun. You both turn and leave and as soon as you close the door you both are dashing. The sound of laughter and shoes continually pounding on the ground filled the hallways and anyone who heard the sound already knew; you had a new target. They all cleared the way, giving you a clean exit.

  “I should probably take this.” You say as you pull out your five, toothed blade, i’ve been dying to try this out.” He looks at you, smirking,   “I’d rather not.”   “And I’d rather not- no I am not going to be your zsaszette.”   “Fine.”   As you both walk the halls, of his diner, which also doubled as his lair, you heard a familiar voice. You motioned to Victor to go the other way, as if you wanted him to search the other rooms, but in reality you just didn’t want him to know what you were up to. You had a tenday of shooting and not caring, because you hated liars and traitors, so to you it didn’t matter who they were, they would most likely die.   “Falcone doesn’t know i’m here.”   “Good. Cause babe if-”   “Don’t call me babe.” A voice says roughly. It was females, but it was deep, meaning they were angry. Which could only mean one thing. You frowned looking at your knife,   “Looks like I won’t be able to use this,” you whisper looking at you blade, then smirking, “but I can use this.” you say looking at the machine gun outside the door. So you do what some consider to be your best, and you aim low just below the shins, and shoot. You continue to shoot until the bullets are gone. Once they are you dash, finding Zsasz having basically mauled the target you frowned.   “You weren’t here.” he said bluntly   “Doesn’t matter. We gotta run.”   “Y/N/N… What did you do?” He asks hesitantly, you look at him and but hear the sound of shuffling feet,   “Doesn’t matter. V, we gotta run.” You say grabbing his arm, pulling him as you ran.

  “Mooney’s place was shot up yesterday,” Falcone says interrupting you and Victor’s relaxation time. You stood up, only to be pulled back down onto his lap.   “So?” Victor asks as he starts playing with your hair. You frown, you didn’t like people playing ni your hair, or was it you didn’t like sitting on his lap?   “I need you to-”   “We don’t do body guards.” Victor says not looking up from your hair. You turn around and look at him,   “V.” He pauses, and sighs,   “Fine.” He says as you both get up, “Let’s go protect the damn fish.” You smile, holding back a laugh. You know he and fish weren’t on so great of terms, and hell, you hated her also, but you just had to see if you were right.

  “Why hello. What do we have here?” A female voice rings out as you and Victor are coming in from the skylight. He smiles, one of his ‘cut the bullshit’ smiles. She limps over to you two with open arms, and you reluctantly hug her. As you hug her you look around, examining it.    “So this place was shot up?” You ask as she lets go of you.    “Yes actually. Luckily Butch here was able to stop them.” She says motioning to the  beast of a man.    “Yeah, once I got out there, I beat them to a pulp.”    “Is that why you’re limping?” You ask Fish, and she looks at you briefly,    “You noticed. Yes indeed it is. I was on stage looking at the overview of the room when the shots started, I covered. Sadly not in time enough to not have been shot.” She says as she shows the bullet wound in her shin.    “Must’ve been using nylon 66’s.” you say lying.    “Yes I believe so.” She says and you smirk inwardly. You caught the lying bitch.    “Well Zsasz and I will figure out who, and kill them, by order of Falcone. Mind if we investigate. No? Good.” you say without letting her answer and motion for Victor to follow you. You lift things up and down, pulling out your gun stepping around to get a picture of things, all while pretending you care.    “You’re actually taking this seriously?” Victor asks,    “Of course not. I already know who shot her and the place.” You say continuing to pretend like you were investigating.    “Really?” he asks intrigued,    “Yep.” you say popping the p, “You remember yesterday?”    “Yea…”    “Well I shot up the Maroni’s office at shin level.” You say pointing at the stage, “then I left.”    “So you shot up his office without consulting me?”    “I had to catch the traitor.” you say turning around and looking at the floor, “And I did. I used a machine gun, and clearly that’s a bullet wound for a machine gun, but she’s saying it’s a 66. Which is false.” He looks at you in awe, he couldn’t help himself he lo-    “Sorry i’m late Fish. I had to make sure that the ride was prepared.” a voice says. You know that voice, but it couldn’t be… right?    “It’s okay Penguin. I have some people for you to meet. They’re well know, so you must remember them.” She beckons you two over and you follow lost in thought behind Victor, confused as to why you knew that voice, “This is Gotham’s most feared hitman.” He shoots a gun as always, “And this is Gotham’s very own Siren.” You smirk as you turn around to meet who she was interesting you to, but as soon as you saw him you froze. And the moment his eyes met yours he followed suit.

   “I’m sorry V.” You say over the phone, “I can’t stay anymore.”    “But isn’t this a good thing?” He says stammering, “I mean now you don’t have to hide.”    “You don’t understand,” you zipping up the suitcase, “I did this so that he wouldn’t have to, but now that he’s tied up in it I’ve no reason to continue.”    “Yes you do.” he says quietly, You pick up your suitcase and open the door to your room.    “What? Why would I possibly continue to do this?”   “Me.” he says almost inaudible. You briefly stare at the phone in shock   “What? V… I mean?”   “Y/N/N. I-” But before he could finish you found yourself ending the call. Oswald was back. You had to leave now. Closing the door, you looked at the fire escape. You leave your phone on the bed and before you jump out the door opens, with Oswald tumbling in. The look on his face pains you so much, that you almost stay, but you wouldn’t, you couldn’t.

   “I’m sorry Ozzy.” you say, jumping out the window.

[ahaveningotham-blog]

A Haven in Gotham 8

Only 2 locks? He thought to himself, letting himself in; she’s went and got lazy. It was his third visit in as many weeks, since he had laid eyes on her in the club, in the alley. It hadn’t taken much to find her small and cramped apartment; a call or two, a twisted arm.

 ‘This doesn’t suit her,’ he frowned at the singular room, a plain screen all that fenced the bed from the public area. 'She’d be so much happier with me.’ He bit his lip lightly, thinking of the rooms they’d shared in their time together. Clean, lavish and open–tainted and debauched by the time they’d left. He slipped behind the screen, knowing in the midst of day, he wouldn’t find her there; but it didn’t help the pang of disappointment to find the small mattress empty. He removed a single glove and ran his naked hand over the blanket. “Cheap.” He chided, his lip curling in distaste. 'I could keep her warmer,’ he lifted the pillow from its place and inhaled deeply; the years had not changed her scent. Even faint, it was warm, the delicious combination of sweat, skin, the hint of perfume; something else too, a heady aroma that he couldn’t quite name. Breathing out, he set the pillow back in its place, smoothing out the creases he’d caused; there was no reason for her to know he’d been there–yet. He wandered to her closet, eyes suddenly struck by an unexpected display of colors; this had changed. He thumbed through her dresses, each one more chipper and friendly than the last.

“She can look as different as she likes, I know who she is,” he muttered, just as his breath fell still, coming to the final item hanging in the closet. A mauve, silk scarf hung on a hook; he removed it, gliding it over his hands. This too he brought to his face, breathing her in; the perfume was stronger here, she wore it regularly. “It’s freezing,” he repeated the words he’d spoke when he first wrapped the item round her neck “It’d be stupid of you to die of cold, sweetheart.”

His cell phone rang out in the silent moment he enjoyed; groaning, he answered. “Yeah boss?” He hung the scarf back on its hook, tugging his glove back on with his teeth. “Uh huh… nothing, just out.” He glanced back at the bed another moment, promising himself the next time he laid eyes on it, her figure would be there. “Yep…can do…” he rolled his big dark eyes, pausing to grab an apple from a bowl in the miniscule kitchenette. “Calm down boss… I’ll get right to it.” He flipped his device closed and sank his perfect teeth into the flesh of the apple; work was calling, but all he could think about was play. The door clicked behind him, as the scarf fell from its place, and out from the now open closet door.

He’s been here.

It was all that ran through her head, her vision locked onto heap of dark silk that peeked out of her closet. She had looped it around its hook securely, still treating it previously, wearing it regularly. It was around her neck whenever she felt most alone; when she needed another’s strength alongside her own. She retrieved the scarf gingerly, the cool fabric smooth against her fingers. The fact that it was cold was somewhat reassuring; he had been gone long enough for the garment to lose his heat. She squeezed it tight in her hands, winding the material around one fist, pulling it tight between her grasp. She took a sharp gasp of air before carefully looping it back round it’s hook, secure and safe. Shutting the door on it, she stood in the silence of her apartment, so empty but thick with tension.

She fell asleep on her sofa that night, a book laid open against her chest. It rose and fell with her deep breathing as he towered over her, twitching to touch her. The years had been remarkably kind to her; her skin still soft and inviting, her lips still perfect. Her hair was much longer than when he had seen her last, and he craved nothing more to grip it in his fists, hoist her up and reclaim that sweet mouth he had missed so long. He forced himself with all his might not to, settling for gazing at her slumbering form. She had wrapped herself in a tshirt 3 sizes too large for her, but with her knees tilted up towards her ceiling, it had rode up just enough for him to steal a glimpse of her snow white panties. He shifted silently, his want pressing urgently against the front of his crisp pants. His eyes wandered downwards, grinning at the creamy white scars that decorated her thighs. His handiwork held up well, as he was certain his favourite scars that marked the path to her ever alluring sex were still there, still his guide. His eyes flickered back up to the book on her chest, reading the title:

'Life After Prison: Managing Growth, Moving Forward and Rejoining Society’

His lips curled back in disdain. She doesn’t need this, she was perfect as she was; rage replaced wanton need, now hating her changes. He long to return her to the woman he had molded, taught, and craved. His fists curled firmly, the sound of tightening leather filling the room; her body shifted under his eyes as her lips parted slightly, uttering a single sound in her sleep.

“Victor.”

He near on tumbled backward, hearing his name on her lips after so long. He had heard that same breathy whisper many times before, murmured into his ear while her arms pulled him in close, from underneath him, buried into a nest of pillows and sweat. It was glorious, like a song from her lips. He ached to know where her mind was to speak his name, wondering if it was a memory, or a whole new dream that had sparked it. She shifted again, taking his cue to leave; it wasn’t time for them to meet, no, not yet. On silent steps he found his way out of her home; the next time, he thought to himself, we will speak.