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victors-only-dummy · 1 year

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You are enough in this world 🌎

Pairing: VICTOR x DUMMY ( Me/You)

Your phone pinged again. You knew you should reply to him, he must be worried. And yet, your body felt too heavy. So you simply blinked, once, twice, until the screen went black once again, returning the room to the dim state it had been in for the past several days. You wanted to move your arms, one of them going numb under you where you laid on your side. Your sheets were in a desperate need for a wash, but you ultimately decided to put off doing your laundry for yet another week. Just as you put off everything else – work, meals, showers. This was no way to live, you knew that, but you couldn’t gather enough motivation to do anything about it. So you remained in bed, tucked under your sheets, staring blankly at the window across from you, watching the raindrops race their way down to the sill. It was raining. How fitting, you thought, listening to the pitter patter of the water on the glass of your window and feeling your eyelids grow heavy with lethargy, slowly succumbing to the grip of sleep – something you’d had way too much of this past week. Your eyes snapped open at the jingle of keys followed by your front door opening, a rush of panic coursing through you, but you still didn’t move. Not even the danger of an intruder could drag you out of the pit you had fallen into, you had realised.“Dummy?” You relaxed, the familiar sound of your husband voice calmed you down, and you slumped further into your pillow. The tension in your shoulders remained, though – you didn’t want him to see you like this.

A dark head of hair peeked into your dimly lit bedroom, eyes raking over your figure as you laid facing the opposite wall, head almost fully under the comforter. Victor sneaked across the wooden floor to the other side of the room, small creaks sounding under his sock-clad feet. His eyebrows raised when he realised you were awake, gaze fixed on the window, only a sliver of it visible through the blinds as rain pelted against it heavily. He called your name again, this time softer – barely a whisper – but it caught your attention, dragging you away from your thoughts. Your eyes moved to his, a gentle smile you didn’t have the power to reciprocate spread across his lips to greet you.

You were certain you weren’t even close to looking presentable – you hair unwashed and matted, dark eyebags and dehydrated lips – and yet Victor studied your face as if spellbound, as if a big dummy herself was before him. He took a few cautious steps towards you, eyes never leaving yours as he lowered himself to the mattress beside your resting figure. Instinctively, you pulled the comforter over the lower portion of face, gaze lowering to the pillow under your head, almost in shame.“What are you doing here?” You muttered under your breath, the crackle in your voice enough to let him know you hadn’t been using it very much. You cleared your throat, a bright shade of red coating the shell of your ears.“I haven’t heard from you in a few days, Dummy ” Victor spoke, voice matching yours in volume so not to disturb the stillness in your room. His hand carefully found its way to your hair, fingers lightly smoothing over the greasy locks. “Do you want to tell me what’s got my dummy feeling so down?”

You shook your head, shying away from his touch as his fingers continued their ministrations. You missed the way Victor smile fell for a second before he quickly replaced it, acting unaffected by the dark aura surrounding you – an aura that even he had to work to dissipate. You felt the familiar stinging at the corners of your eyes; you wondered how you hadn’t run out of tears by now. Even as you averted your gaze, his eyes remained on you, labouring to read your expression. The truth was, even if you did want to talk, you didn’t know what to say. Was it the change in seasons that spurred this unwarranted rush of sadness to course through your body, overwhelming your very being, backing you up into a corner and forcing you to isolate yourself from the world, from the people you loved and held dearly in your heart? Or was there some other, unknown justification for the state you had found yourself in? You didn’t know, so why subject the person you thought the world of to these unexplained emotions?“Can you just – can’t you just go?” Your voice broke, and so did the damn holding back the well of tears pooling in your eyes. They fell, crossing the bridge of your nose and seeping into the pillowcase underneath your head, your bottom lip drawn between your teeth as you suppressed the sob building up at the back of your throat. Victor sighed, and you froze at the sound, afraid of the expression coating his face. Except he was pushing you further into the bed a moment later, making enough space for him to crawl under the sheets with you, now face-to-face as he laid on his side next to you.“You don’t always have to suffer in silence, you know? I’m here for you dummy ,” he cupped your cheek, thumb swiping away at your tears. “I'm always here for you dummy.”

Worry. That was the expression he was making. Not disturbance, not disappointment. You saved your bottom lip from the torture your teeth had subjected it to, allowing Victor to wrap his arms around your shoulders, moving you closer and into his chest. As his warmth engulfed your every sense, you finally allowed yourself to let go, your sobs muffled as you buried yourself into his chest. His fingers continued to comb through your hair, a soft hum echoing in your ears as he rocked you gently. The rain continued its downpour outside, its harsh abuse to your window paired with your continuous sniffling the only sounds between the four walls. You nestled further into his arms, the material of his shirt soft against your skin. He smelled like baby wipes. He always smelled like baby wipes.Victor broke the silence after your tears stopped soaking his shirt. “Would you like to talk about it Dummy?” He asked again, his hand rubbing calming circles between your shoulder blades.

Just when you thought you didn’t have it in you to cry any more, your vision blurred once again, and you found yourself being pushed back into his embrace. Victor, to you, was the epitome of warmth – his smile, the wrinkles by his eyes, the soft tone of his voice, the interminable kindness he’d shown you, and continued to show you even when you ignored his attempts of reaching out. You felt unworthy of it all, and yet he never ceased to give – kindness, warmth, comfort. As though he had an endless supply he was not afraid to use up. Even in winter, even while the storm banged against the glass of your window, he continued to send waves of burning heat through your skin. He pushed through the barrage of hostility in your brain, fighting away the melancholy that held you captive and allowing ease and serenity to course through your very being. He didn’t push you to talk, simply keeping you tucked into his arms until you felt ready to speak your mind. “I-I… I don’t know why I’m feeling this way. There’s no particular reason. I just feel-” you paused, letting out a shaky exhale. “- sad; hopeless; worthless – as if nothing will ever work out for me, and perhaps staying in bed all day, away from everyone and everything, is best.”Victor hummed and drew you even closer to his chest, perhaps unaware of his grip on you growing tighter.“I just feel like my existence brings nothing but burden to the people around me. I-I didn’t want to be clingy and annoying, so I didn’t reach out. Why should I subject you to that negativity? W-what would I even say? That I’m the biggest Dummy out there-"

“No. No, no, no. That’s not even remotely true. Don’t say that about yourself.” Victor pushed away from you just enough to take in your tear-stained cheeks, the shake of your bottom lip as you tried to dry out the tears welling up in your eyes. You tried to counter, but he shushed you. “Don’t listen to that voice inside your head, it’s wrong. So, so wrong, my love. Just- Listen to mine instead.” He leaned in to press feathery kisses to the corners of your eyes, his lips straying further to plant soft pecks over your eyelids, your forehead, nose, cheeks, all the while whispering praise against your damp skin. Beautiful, smart, hardworking, strong. He moved away to admire the scrunch of your nose after a significantly longer kiss to the tip of it, only to lean forward to lay his lips against the corner of yours. Victor hand cradled your jaw, and you finally opened your eyes to look at him again. The smile curving the corners of his lips – so tender, so delicate – enough to send another wave of tears rolling down your temple and into the sleeve of his shirt where your head rested. “I’m sorry if I’m too much,” you sniffled. Victor brushed your matted hair off your forehead, leaning in to press his lips to the skin. “You’re never too much. Don’t apologise for needing reassurance, sweetheart.”

“B-but… Am I not demanding too much from you?”“Never,” he didn’t hesitate before responding, holding your face so delicately, a choked sob ripping out of your chest. “I would fly to the moon and back without a second thought if I knew it would make you smile. The only time you have ever been too demanding is when you asked me to leave you alone when all I wanted to do was hold you and fight the sadness away for you.” You heart felt so full, so warm, wrapped up in Victor arms while he rocked you to the beat of the soft melody he was humming. He let you cry – just as he had for the past hour – smile unwavering as he rubbed your back soothingly, occasionally running his blunt nails over your clothed skin. You wondered how someone could hold so much love in their gaze while they watched another break down and reveal the most vulnerable fragments of themselves. The emotions you felt, the emotions you had been feeling, were so dour, so bitter. Victor comfort was a stark opposite of that – warm, gentle, affectionate. You drowned in the fervency of his embrace, his voice like honey in your ears, unravelling the tension you felt inside.

“I know it doesn’t look like it now, but the pain will pass,” he spoke so sincerely, pressing a kiss to your temple.“Is it bad if I can’t see that happening?”“Not at all,” Victor assured as he moved a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek and running his thumb over your cheekbone. “You don’t need to rush to move on from this, love. Feel the sadness and accept it – it’s fine to drown in your emotions for some time. Never on your own, though. Not while I'm by your side.”Victor ’s hand moved from your cheek to cover the back of your neck, giving it a subtle squeeze, his other repeating the motion at your waist while he gave the tip of your nose another kiss. You let your eyes flutter shut, missing how he continued to study your face, cherishing the peacefulness painting your features and hoping he was able to rid you of even the smallest portion of the pain you had been enduring all alone.Maybe it was the way he phrased it, or maybe it was the smooth timbre of his voice, but you found yourself believing his words. Perhaps all you had to do was allow yourself to feel, rather than dwell over why you were feeling. Perhaps indulging in the comfort of others was okay. Perhaps Victor was right and you weren’t too much; maybe you were just enough, simply human, trying your best to get through this wave of dysphoria. Perhaps just as the storm outside will soon pass, so will this cyclone of emotions swirling inside you; just as the sun will rise once again, the days where you felt okay will return. In the homely embrace of Victor's arms, the soft scent of baby wipes floating in the air around you, anything and everything felt possible.

#love victor #mlqc victor #mr love li zeyan #li zeyan #i love him #mr love victor

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thedummysdummy · 3 years

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In Which Victor Panics

Scratching sounds from Victor's pen interspersed with the clicking of keys and clink of his coffee mug made up the office symphony which filled the air. The sun had long since gone down, but the buzzing fluorescent lights allowed the CEO to continue hammering away at the pile of documents on the edge of the desk.

Victor took another sip of his coffee and glanced at the screen of his phone. Even though the indicator light was not flashing, he picked it up and turned on the screen.

Still nothing.

He sighed and hit redial on his last call, frowning when it again went straight to voicemail. 'What could she be up to…I would have thought she’d be breaking down my door today of all days.' A feeling which had become all too familiar as of late filled his belly and his lip raised slightly in displeasure. The clock on the wall struck eleven and Victor finally closed his laptop. He lifted his heavy overcoat from its place on the coat rack and slid it over his arm, again checking his phone for a response. Nothing but another avalanche of emails in regards to next week's business trip to Milan…

The keys jingled as Victor locked the office door and dropped them back into his pocket. Though he had spent years walking down this darkened corridor alone, tonight it felt emptier than usual. He found his phone again in his hand, though its screen was as dark as ever. The sound of his own footsteps enveloped the dark figure, their steadiness doing nothing to calm the storm they carried forward.

“She must be working late.” It was the most logical conclusion. Did nothing to explain her lack of incessant messaging that usually poured in all day every day, but at least the thought calmed his stomach just a knot. Victor placed his briefcase in the back seat and spurred the engine of his car to life.

Street lights rippled across the black vehicle as it rolled down the street toward the familiar office building. The skies were calm and bright, adorned with stars and crowned with a moon nearly full. Only the faintest of breezes caressed the few leaves which still hung from the trees and danced with the yellowed grass.

Victor’s eyes danced between the speedometer and the road while his fingers tapped impatiently on the dash. The slightest flame of anger lit in his belly and began to warm the worry inside, causing the currents to swirl even more violently. Didn’t she know that he would be worried?! He could feel the nerves rising into his throat as he pulled into the parking lot and looked expectantly up at the window of the girl’s office.

It was dark.

Nonetheless, Victor slammed the car into park and exited quickly, back straight as he crossed the parking lot and entered the front door of the office building. The hallways inside were dim; only the emergency lights cast their yellow glow over the walls and pooled in half-circles on the floor. He quickly made his way down the hall, into the elevator, and up to her floor, only to find the door to the office locked and the lights off.

“Damnit. Okay, she wouldn’t spend any length of time at Souvenir with it being closed. So she’s probably at home.” The words though whispered beneath his breath managed to echo in the empty corridor. Victor turned heel and returned to the elevator, finding his hands were slightly beginning to shake. He took a deep breath and pulled out his phone, this time typing out another text. “Where are you? Why haven’t you returned any of my calls?”

Despite his best attempts to quell them, Victor couldn’t stop the worst case scenarios from dancing around in his brain. Was she ill? He sat in the driver’s seat of the car and stared at the phone screen, his mind refusing to calm. What else could he do? He again opened the messaging app and tapped on the contact information for Willow, Anna, and Kiki. “This is Victor. Was your boss at work today?”

To his surprise, he almost immediately received a response. “No, we thought she was spending the day with you.”

A rock sunk heavily in his stomach and nausea threatened to double him over. "Okay. Her apartment. Dummy probably caught cold and has been sleeping all day." He put the car in gear and flew out of the parking lot.

Knock knock

Victor knocked louder and louder, carefully examining the cracks around the door for any light and putting his ear to her door for any signs of life.

He was met with silence and further darkness.

She hadn't realized exactly how late it was; the girl knew she had been hard at work preparing for a long time and that the sun had disappeared long ago, but the midnight chimes caught her off guard.

The girl glanced up at the clock, a frown plastered on her face. "Victor, why aren't you home yet? Working until midnight on your birthday of all days…"

All around her were elaborate decorations of streamers, balloons, roses, and every Shiba Inu item she could find in Loveland. A white frosted cake with edible flowers and strawberries stood on the coffee table, and looking at it filled her with a mixture of pride and nostalgia.

"And why haven't you called me?" She reached for her pocket to check her phone, only to discover the pocket was empty. Her eyebrows narrowed and she glanced around the room, running up and down the surfaces for the familiar object.

The girl sifted through the piles of wrappings from the decor, the cupboards in the kitchen, and even Victor's bedroom to no avail. "When did I even last have it…" She wracked her brain and eventually a hazy memory of sitting on the couch with it returned.

Sure enough, the phone had slipped between the couch cushions. She tried to turn on the screen only to realize the battery had died. "Oh dear… That would explain why I haven't heard from him."

She plugged it into the phone charger Victor kept on his kitchen counter for her ("Dummy, you can't even remember to charge your phone? Good thing I purchased this for you") and after a few months, the screen lit up.

After the boot up sequence, the messages began rolling in.

"Have you eaten today?"

"Would you like to go to lunch?"

"Must be busy today. I haven't received a single banal message all day."

"Do you have a ride home today?"

"Are you coming to LFG after work?"

"Where are you? Why aren't you answering my messages?"

She couldn't help but giggle as she read through the increasingly concerned messages and listened to the three voicemails. “All worked up,” she giggled, though a little bit of guilt prickled the back of her mind. “I suppose I better let him know I’m alright…” The buzzing of Victor’s phone caused him to jump. He immediately pulled over to the side of the road and whipped the phone out of his pocket, eyes greedily devouring the text.

“I’m fine, I’ve just been busy today and my phone died! Are you home yet?”

Concern melted away, leaving only anger behind. Before he could even get ahold of his emotions, his fingers were hitting the dial button. Each ring intensified the fire until the familiar voice entered his ear. “Hello?”

“Dummy, did you forget to charge your phone again? You have caused me no end of problems today! Nobody knew where you were!” Victor’s words were sharp and cold and when they faded away, the line remained silent for a long time. The silence gave him enough time to regain his composure and he found himself feeling a little bit guilty. He continued, his voice much softer. “You should have let me or your coworkers where you were. You had everyone worried.”

Another few silent moments passed before the sheepish voice of the girl returned to the line. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry everyone. You didn’t answer me though. Are you home safe yet?”

Victor looked out the window at the dark street and shook his head, putting the car back in gear. “No, I was traveling the roads between your apartment and your office looking for you. And you haven’t told me where you are yet.” He paused, seeming to catch on to something. “You’re at my house, aren’t you?”

“If I was at your house, would I have to ask if you were home yet?!”

A soft chuckle got lost in the roar of the engine and the sound of the tires as they returned to rolling down the road. “You’re a terrible liar. You aren’t at home, work, or LFG. It’s my birthday and you haven’t done any of your usual dummy birthday things. So logically, you must be at my house.”

“Okay fine. I’m at your house. But just come home, okay? I worked really hard on this surprise birthday and you’ve already ruined it by being a worry wart.”

Victor could picture her petulant face in his mind’s eye and a wide smile spread across his face. “I’m coming, I’m coming. But it’s far too late to celebrate. Just put away whatever novice cake you’ve inevitably made and get into bed. I’ll be there soon.”

The girl sighed into the receiver and Victor could hear the sound of her slippers brushing the carpet. “Fine. But that means tomorrow you have to spend the whole day with me for ruining the surprise.”

“Or maybe you have to spend the whole day with me for being an irresponsible dummy who made me worry, how about that?” Victor teased, flipping the blinker to turn onto the street that he lived on. “You have to make up every minute I spent waiting for you to reply to my messages and staying late at the office in case you randomly showed up. I’ll be home soon so I’m hanging up.”

The dial tone echoed in her ear and the girl’s hand dropped to her lap. Her face was drawn down in a deep frown and a strand of hair dangled over her cheek. The tone of his words echoed in her ears, repeating his anger over and over to her memory. With slow movements she picked up the cake, placed it in the fridge, and headed to the bedroom to change into the pair of pajamas she had stowed away in his dresser.

She lay snuggled between the smooth silk sheets, twirling the ring on her right hand as her thoughts spun in circles around it. Victor had straight up yelled at her...she curled up into a little ball, wrapping her arms around her knees and tucking in her head.

The sound of the door opening echoed across the white tile of the entryway and into the living room, followed by the click of his shoes and the jingling of his keys settling onto the hook. She did not move. The lights flicked on. She did not move. “I see you’ve once again managed to top the decorations from last year,” Victor called out. She did not move.

Victor stepped into the bedroom and glanced at the lump under the blanket before loosening his tie. “Are you asleep already?” he asked, stepping closer and unbuttoning his shirt. He hung the tie and removed his shirt, dropping it into the hamper next to the bed. “Seems like quite a short amount of time for you to have fallen asleep, though.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her form. She shied away from his touch and a sigh played on his downturned lips. “Okay, what is wrong? You’re far too obvious when you’re upset.”

“I’m upset with you.”

Victor sighed again and slid out of his pants, hanging them up and putting on his sleep shorts before climbing into the bed. He lay on his back with his feet extended and his left arm under his head, right hand extended toward the girl. “I’m rather upset with you, too. You really scared me today.”

She didn’t speak for a long time, the pair of them laying in an awkward deadlock of wills. Finally, she rolled over and extended her hand. Victor took her fingers in his and rubbed them gently. “I didn’t mean to worry you...I just wanted to surprise you for your birthday. I just got so wrapped up in it that I didn’t think to check my phone at all. I’m sorry for the problems I caused you. But I’m upset that you yelled at me.”

“I shouldn’t have done that.” His response surprised the girl and her eyes peeked out at him from beneath the blanket. “I should have taken a moment to compose myself before I called you. But I was so desperate to hear your voice and so angry that I didn’t think before I acted.”

“That’s very unlike you. You never get flustered like that.”

Victor chuckled, rolling over onto his side and wrapping his arms securely around the girl’s small form. “You make me do all kinds of things that ‘aren’t like me.’ Most of the time I just manage to do them without anyone noticing. Sometimes caring for a dummy makes one do illogical things.”

She buried her face in Victor’s bare chest, the tears he hadn’t realized she was crying creating cold spots on his skin. “Come now, don’t cry. I’m not angry anymore. Upset, but not angry. And tomorrow I will spend the day atoning for my sin.” He held her tightly until her tears subsided and her breathing evened and slowed.

“That’s my little dummy,” Victor whispered as his fingers ran through the silky strands of her hair. He felt his throat tighten and his eyes prickle. “You think far too much of me...I’m just a regular human being with regular emotions. I get scared just like anyone else.” His grip tightened and the girl stretched, her hands and face pressed against his torso. She snored softly and his lips curled up slightly at the corners despite the tear which had escaped and trickled down his cheek. “You really just can’t see that version of me, can you?”

The sleeping girl gave no sign that she had heard him, but that was exactly what Victor had hoped. “You just sleep safely in my arms, my little dummy. I will always protect you.” Her soft snores kept complete silence at bay, soaking into Victor like warmth from the sun and calming the anxiety which had plagued him all day long. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers up and down her back in increasingly slower motions until he, too, drifted off into the warm and safe dreamland which only existed with her in his arms.

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cheri-translates · 3 years

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[CN] Victor’s Business Trip Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 出差之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

Note: This date features S2 Victor, but contains no main storyline spoilers!

[ This date was released on 13 May 2021 ]

"This flight will be reaching its destination soon. Please fasten your seatbelts...”

Hearing the announcement, I shift my gaze away from the notebook laptop, rubbing my slightly swollen eyes.

The company recently took up an important collaboration, which is why I had to make final amendments to the proposal even in the middle of a business trip.

Drawing up the window at the side, what enters my vision is a patch of deep blue. Above the vast water, the small islands are reminiscent of dark emerald gems.

MC: So beautiful...

It’s as if I’m able to sense the greenery from across the window, and it adds a tinge of anticipation to this trip.

Even though the reason why I’m here is to attend an international meeting spanning three days.

The moment I step out of the airport, I see the apologetic expression on the staff’s face.

Staff: Hello, are you Miss MC?

MC: It’s me. Did something happen?

Staff: I’m incredibly sorry. Because of our negligence, the car that was supposed to pick you up is scheduled to arrive only in the afternoon. However, another guest has agreed to share a car with you to the venue.

MC: That’s fine, as long as the other party doesn’t mind.

When we reach the carpark, my brows arch at the sight of a long Bentley. I can’t help but criticise silently that the host would use a car with such high specifications.

The staff steps aside to pull the door open. I bend and enter the car, prepared to thank this important guest whom I have disturbed.

MC: Hello, thank you...

Lifting my eyes, I meet an indifferent face.

MC: ...Victor?!

In the spacious car, Victor is wearing a black suit as he typically does, a thin picture album in his hands.

Since Victor, who should be at another end of the earth, has appeared before my eyes, I’m unable to react immediately.

MC: ...what are you doing here?!

Victor: Why can’t I be here? LFG receives an invitation from the host each year. This year is no exception.

He glances at the time on the television screen installed in the car. He taps his knuckles against the picture album, his tone calm.

Victor: Also, who else would be willing to wait fifteen minutes for you.

I clear my throat hastily, displaying a brilliant smile.

MC: I have to give CEO Victor a proper thanks for waiting patiently then! But I really didn’t expect you to attend the meeting personally. Didn’t you always refuse in previous years?

Victor looks at me with slight surprise.

Victor: You remember these things really clearly. I happen to have time this year, and...

He pauses, his gaze landing on me.

Victor: I wanted to see if a certain acclaimed producer is just as skilful and at ease when faced with an international collaborative partner.

Hearing the mildly teasing tone in Victor’s words, I can't help but crinkle my eyes into a smile.

MC: In that case, I definitely won’t disappoint CEO Victor. This meeting is really important to our company. I’m bringing out one hundred percent of my fighting spirit, which I haven’t done in a very long time.

While speaking, I scoot backwards into the soft chair. With Victor at my side, the tension that I’ve been experiencing is finally alleviated slightly.

MC: Fortunately, the host arranged for the venue to be at a resort. We can have a good rest too. I heard the scenery on that small island is pretty good. And there are lots of kittens...

Victor: I’m guessing the reason why you came here to attend the meeting was for the resort.

Hearing this, I stare at the picture album in his hands. The page which has been flipped open happens to be the view I saw from the plane. It’s clearly a brochure for this place.

MC: CEO Victor, aren’t you looking at a brochure?

Victor: It was to while the time away while waiting for someone.

Even though I’ve exposed Victor, his expression remains unchanged. He closes the brochure composedly, which has a few images of cat paws on it.

Victor: Do you want to look at it?

MC: No need. Actually, the main reason why I came here isn’t for the resort.

Victor: Then what is it?

The expression in my eyes changes, revealing a smile.

MC: My reason is very obvious. It’s to expand our company’s influence internationally, and obtain a few more million dollars’ worth of LFG’s investments.

Victor doesn’t refute my words. Instead, he folds his arms in front of his chest and leans against the wall of the car, meeting my eyes calmly.

Victor: What do you plan to do?

MC: Before coming here, I noted down the organisers and brands, then wrote proposals based on their preferences and styles. But from the looks of it, there seems to be a faster method.

I smile while facing Victor, speaking unhurriedly.

MC: For instance... getting close to an extremely important guest at the meeting.

Victor arches his brows, the upward curl at the corners of his lips softening his well-defined features.

Victor: I’ll look forward to it then.

The meeting that spanned the entire afternoon finally comes to a temporary end. After politely turning down an invitation to the dinner banquet, I leave the venue, standing outside and taking in breaths of fresh air.

Victor: Why are you hiding here?

Turning my head, I see Victor who appears to be leaving as well.

MC: I’m heading back to rest and prepare for tomorrow’s main event. What about you? What are you planning to do?

He glances at the insuppressible fatigue on my face, then continues walking.

Victor: Like you, I’m heading back to rest.

He doesn’t walk quickly, as though waiting for me to chase after him. Curling the corners of my lips, I speed up my footsteps and follow him.

In this resort surrounded by water, exquisite glass houses sit among the elegant scenery, reminiscent of illustrations from a fairytale.

Two small wooden signboards with cats drawn on them attract my attention, and I continuously turn my head around to peer at them.

Victor: What are you looking at that has left you unable to walk properly?

MC: There’s a story written on these wooden signboards, and I find it interesting.

It’s a simple yet heartwarming short story: a mysterious kitten knocks on the door of guests, giving them a secret, warm gift.

MC: Do you think a kitten will knock on my window tonight?

I turn to Victor, saying this jokingly. However, he’s the same as always, shattering my imagination with his words.

Victor: It’s just an advertising tactic by the resort.

Kitten: Meow~

Before he finishes speaking, a soft sound drifts from the thick clump of grass at the side. My eyes brighten instantly.

MC: See? The Cat Resort lives up to its name.

Very soon, a calico cat leaps out from the thick grass, its black eyes seeming to scrutinise the both of us.

I squat down, wanting to reach out to play with it. However, it’s incredibly proud and aloof.

MC: ...what a cold cat.

The “cold” calico cat avoids my outstretched hand and goes to Victor’s feet, circling him in a clingy manner.

MC: Why is it only warm towards you?

Victor: Your earlier enthusiasm probably gave it a scare.

Kitten: Meow~ Meow meow~

The kitten lifts its tiny head, raising a paw and “condescendingly” leaves two paw prints on Victor’s trousers before leaving in a leisurely manner.

Victor: ...

Watching it jump back into the grass, I retract my gaze, continuing forward with Victor.

MC: I didn't expect you to have an affinity with animals. Whenever I want to get close to the stray cats below the company building, I have to “give offerings” of cat food first.

The gentle evening breeze brushes past. In this leisurely atmosphere, Victor’s tone is casual and relaxed.

Victor: Maybe the cat food you bought doesn’t taste good.

MC: I buy high quality cat food, okay?

Engaging in idle chatter while walking, we soon reach the houses that have been prepared for us.

Detached glass houses scattered in a disorderly fashion appear before our eyes. What surprises me is that the small house Victor is staying in happens to face mine.

The two windows aren’t that far apart, and they face each other, conjuring a carefree atmosphere.

MC: I didn’t expect our residences to be so close by. This way, we could start chatting just by opening the windows.

Victor: ...I won’t do such a silly thing with you.

MC: I was just kidding. See you tomorrow! Rest early, CEO Victor.

Waving at him happily, I turn around and push open the door to the small glass house.

Everything in the small house is as exquisite as the exterior. Through the transparent ceiling, I can see the glow of sunset.

Now that I’ve returned to the residence, the exhaustion from the journey immediately spreads through my four limbs. With a “plonk”, I fall onto the soft bed.

It is only after releasing a huge breath that I think about shutting the curtains. When I walk over to the small balcony, I see the person standing opposite.

Victor is holding a cup of coffee at the window, and is currently meeting my gaze.

He has removed his outer jacket and has his sleeves rolled up, making his entire person seem much more relaxed. I can detect a smile from the expression in his eyes.

Recalling how I looked sprawled on the bed earlier, my face instantly heats up.

MC: [whispering] That’s so embarrassing...

Pretending to be calm, I shoot Victor a smile, then tug on the thick curtains firmly.

The room instantly descends into dimness, and also covers the slight tinge of red on my face.

Buzz buzz - at this moment, my phone vibrates.

Victor: There’s a meeting tomorrow. Sleep early, and don’t get overly excited.

Upon waking up, the room is so dark that there doesn’t seem to be any light coming in. Drawing the curtains, I realise that the sky’s almost dark.

Warm yellow lights from the opposite house enter my vision, reminiscent of tender candlelight in twilight.

At some point of time, it had started raining outside.

And behind that curtain of rain, there’s an indistinct figure.

Victor seems to be reading documents while sitting by the window.

MC: He’s still busy with work at this time?

After thinking about it, I put on a coat and sneak out of the door.

MC: Thanks for your help.

Carrying the congee I purchased as a take-out, I walk down the glass-roofed corridors. Falling rain patters outside the corridor, embellishing the night with even more coldness.

Kitten: Meow~

At this moment, a calico kitten suddenly appears at the side, and it’s clearly the same cat Victor and I met before.

With the same happy and contented gait, it comes up to me, then lifts its head to stare at me.

After being confused for a few seconds, I lift the congee in my hand, and the kitten’s line of sight slowly shifts upwards too.

MC: Turns out you’re just a little greedy cat despite your aloof appearance. But I can’t let you eat this. I still need to feed a “big cat”.

Despite me leaving mercilessly, the calico cat follows behind me all the way.

MC: Fine, you can visit Victor with me then.

It lets out an excited “meow”, though I’m unsure if it understood what I said.

MC: I’ll take that as an agreement.

When I walk to the small glass house, Victor’s room is still lit. I pick up the cat and lean towards the window, tapping on the window with a thud.

The figure sitting in front of the window pauses. The curtains which weren’t closed completely are pulled open.

Victor’s face appears in the window clearly. When he sees me and the cat in my arms, he’s slightly stunned for a moment, obvious surprise flashing across his face.

Warm light illuminates the room with a soft and comforting glow. Even Victor, who is sitting amidst the warm colour, seems to become much gentler.

Lifting the kitten’s paw, I wave it a few times in greeting.

MC: Hello Mr Victor. We’re here to give you a present.

He chuckles in resignation, the word “dummy” leaving his lips silently.

Victor sets the documents down neatly, then gets up to open the window. While supporting the window frame with a hand, he looks down at me with a scrutinising gaze.

Victor: What are you doing outside this late instead of sleeping?

MC: I should be the one asking you that. Why are you still working this late!

Hearing this, he lifts his hand and rubs the space between his eyebrows, but the veins in his eyes can still be seen faintly.

Victor: There’s an issue related to an acquisition by LFG. Goldman called and asked for my opinion.

MC: Is the issue serious?

Victor: It’s manageable.

He sets down his hand and brings it to me. I stare at this unfurled hand, blinking in confusion.

Victor: Didn’t you say you brought something for me?

Only now do I remember my official business, and I hide the thermal bag with the congee within it in my arms.

MC: Victor, are you going to take my congee and then ask me to leave?

Victor: ...when did I say that. It’s just that a certain someone has a “tough battle” to fight tomorrow, and has to maintain her vigour.

MC: I’m fine. I just took a nap and feel so much better.

While we’re talking, the kitten in my arms suddenly meows impatiently. Then, it leaps out of my arms.

It jumps into Victor’s room deftly, then stands on his desk, licking its paw calmly.

MC: ...it really likes you. It doesn’t even want my congee now.

I grumble, and Victor suddenly chuckles softly.

Victor: Didn't you buy the congee for me? I don’t intend to share it.

Hearing this, I recall the serious matter I came to attend to by making this trip.

I scan my surroundings. It’s still raining, and there’s quite a distance to the door. And this window happens to be sufficiently low.

After giving it some thought, I roll my wrists, then speak.

MC: Victor... move a little to the side.

Victor: What are you planning to do now?

Victor arches his brows in a lack of comprehension. However, he follows what I said and shifts away from the window.

In the next second, I support myself on the window frame, hopping across smoothly.

When Victor sees the faint footprints on the windowsill, he’s silent for a few seconds.

Victor: ...

Victor: Looks like you truly had sufficient rest. You’re full of energy.

MC: This is a special situation. Scholars in the ancient times would leap over walls to meet beautiful women. Today, I’m leaping over the window to bring you congee.

I retrieve the piping hot congee from the bag, placing it in front of Victor.

MC: For you. Have some supper before continuing work.

Victor lowers his head to look at the congee, the corners of his lips curling upwards indistinctly.

Victor: Is this what you called “catering to my tastes”?

MC: That’s right. So I hope CEO Victor would help me out tomorrow in preventing awkward silences.

Victor: It depends on your performance.

He picks up a spoon, stirring the slightly solidified surface of the congee slowly. The fragrance of rice makes my stomach grumble uncontrollably.

Smelling the fragrance, the calico cat circles our feet, meowing coquettishly.

MC: It seems hungry. The congee I ordered is pretty bland. Why don’t you share some with it?

Victor: Looks like it isn’t the only hungry one.

Victor gives me a meaningful glance, then splits the congee into three portions. The portion that he blows cool is placed in front of the kitten, and another is pushed in front of me.

Victor: After you’ve finished eating, go to bed.

MC: I didn’t even say that I wanted to eat...

I can’t help but mutter to myself while happily taking a spoon and sending a scoop of congee into my mouth.

Victor: The proportion of water and rice is wrong, it wasn’t cooked long enough, and it doesn’t bring out the taste of congee.

Hearing VIctor’s comments, I pause in my movements, then release a soft ‘hmph’.

MC: I wasn’t the one who cooked it, so your words don’t hurt me.

Ten minutes later, three completely clean bowls convey the greatest gratitude towards the chef’s hard work.

The satisfied calico cat has long since found a space on the carpet and rolled into a ball, snoring and sleeping soundly.

Victor: It’s also time for you to return and sleep.

MC: I still don’t feel like going back. I just had a nightmare, so I don’t feel drowsy at all. Why don’t I stay behind and accompany you while you work? I could wait for tomorrow’s sunrise too.

Victor: ...seems like you just want to use my room to watch the sunrise.

Seeing that he remains unmoved, I raise my hands, looking at him with a face filled with sincerity.

MC: I’ll definitely keep quiet throughout, and won’t disturb your work!

Victor doesn't say anything, returning to his documents. He seems to have tacitly allowed me to “run amok”.

I sit on a sofa chair at the side obediently, supporting my chin with a hand while sneaking peeks at him.

Beneath the warm lights, the side of his face seems to become much gentler. However, his slightly furrowed brows reveal a faint sharpness.

Rain patters down outside the window, a stark contrast to the tranquility within the house.

Looking at Victor’s figure, my eyelids grow heavier and heavier...

Victor suddenly senses a weight on his shoulder. He turns his head, only to see that the girl who claimed that she wasn’t drowsy is currently sound asleep, eyes shut tightly.

Victor: MC?

The girl wrinkles her nose, as though she’s having a beautiful dream, or feeling nostalgic for the delicious food from earlier.

He recalls the story written on the wooden signboards earlier in the evening about the kitten which taps on windows and sends gifts. A soft chuckle rises from his throat.

Along the horizon, a hazy ray of light sneaks in through the window in front of them.

🐈 Phone call: here

🐈 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #HE'S SO SOFT

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dirtydoesgood · 4 years

Text

Raising The Stakes (MLQC Lucien - NSFW)

Title: Raising The Stakes

Author: Otonymous Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice Character(s): Lucien x Reader (Female MC) Rating: Explicit Warnings (***Please check for potential triggers before reading!***): A hint of angst, sexting, sex toys, masturbation, break-ins (mention of slightly rough physical behaviour), edging, slight D/s overtones Prompt: “You should’ve stopped when you still could” Summary: Learn the consequences of trying to one-up Lucien.

You thought you knew loneliness, but you were wrong. It wasn't the easy solitude existing before; coming home to an empty apartment and slipping into a bed you knew would be cool to the touch. No one asking whether you’d be working late. No ready smile waiting on the other side of the door.

The loneliness after is a cut from a different blade; a yearning so pungent and sharp it flavoured the days of your life to incite a hunger more savage than any you’ve ever known, gnawing from within as you wait and wait…

…waiting for a lover’s return.

You clench at the sheets, messy thoughts jumbling in a sleepless brain until you finally give in and reach for the smartphone on your bedside table. Swiping across the screen, you summon it to life; bathe in its cool light as it banishes the suffocating darkness of night.

Open your voicemail. Scroll to that saved message. Press play, just one more time. Let his voice wash over you like a compulsion soothing the beast of obsession.

“Don’t worry about me over here, foolish girl. The only thing you need to do is take care of yourself. Eat well and make sure you’re getting enough sleep. And remember, if there’s anything you need, anything at all, I’m only a phone call away.”

A pause, then his words like a caress:

“I love you.”

How many times did you listen to that message? You had lost track in the days since Lucien's work took him overseas. They bled, one into the other, the flow of time indistinguishable like water in a stream without your lover by your side to mark the transitions with each tender moment shared:

Lunches fed from hand to smiling mouth under the shade of a camphor tree, tucked away from the eyes of staff and students alike on a hidden path just outside his research centre.

Sleepovers for two with your handsome neighbour; laughing at the irony of the term when your breath wasn't being stolen by the slide of his body within yours.

Dawn-drenched kisses and breakfast in bed. Smiling at each other's reflections in the bathroom mirror whenever elbows knocked to produce foamy-mouthed giggles as you brushed your teeth side by side.

Lucien’s toothbrush sits still on your bathroom counter. A hostage, you had teased him, to be exchanged upon its owner’s return.

“You’re forever bound to me now. There’s no choice but to come back.” Your laughter had faltered through a voice choked by tears, seeping through fine cotton to wet the broad expanse of Lucien’s chest as he lingered at your door, luggage resting by the heels of his polished Oxfords.

He had drawn you closer then, pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as long fingers gathered a lock of your hair to pass under that Grecian nose, inhaling deep. And when he whispered with such solemnity, “As if anything could ever keep me away,” you had all but forgotten your joke.

The screen of your phone goes dark, and the reflection staring back at you is a bitter pill to swallow. Your cheeks had lost a bit of their roundness, your eyes dimmed by tears you only allowed yourself to cry in the dead of night — the times you missed him most.

You had told Lucien nothing about this, of course; was careful to slip on the mask of one so consumed with work that it left little time to consider much else, let alone an absent lover. It felt silly, that a grown woman should pine to the point where food became flavourless and sleep elusive.

Well then, grown woman, deal with it.

And you had. Threw yourself wholeheartedly into work to the point where even Victor Li was marginally impressed with the report you submitted the first week Lucien was gone. Anna, Willow, Kiki and Minor had done their best in the following days, inviting you to dinners after work and distracting you with hilariously off-key karaoke performances. But now with the end of the month drawing near, your veneer of strength was starting to crack.

You missed Lucien. The smell of him: crisp and clean with a hint of masculinity that tugged at your core. Missed his weight upon you, the softness of your limbs yielding to his muscle and sinew. Dreamt of his breath; phantom wildfire searing over wet flesh to drive you mad with desire.

So crazy, in fact, that you aren’t even thinking when you dial his number, the ringing merely a backdrop to the echo of your pounding heart as one hand makes its way beneath lace to feel the moisture pooling between lips swollen with need.

“You’ve reached Lucien Xu. Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

Your eyes close at the sound of that deep voice, pulse quickening as it keeps pace with the throbbing that grew in intensity beneath the movement of desperate fingers, rubbing in tight circles further down, down…

Down, in that place where the professor loved to settle; lips, fingers and tongue moving soft, slow, nimble and quick — agile to adapt to the writhing of your body on his mouth.

Beep.

In your current state, it doesn’t quite register that every moan and breathless sigh of his name is being recorded, so caught up are you in holding the tremulous image of your lover in your mind even as your fingers conjured up the thickness of his cock, sliding in and out of your body in a pale imitation of the real thing.

Still, it did the trick. And as you cried out, walls contracting to clamp down on your own hand, you miss the dull tone that sounds, signalling the end of a message you were too blissed out to realize had been delivered.

Buzz.

You awake to your pillow vibrating once before you realize your phone was still next to your ear, halfway buried beneath disheveled hair. The sunlight peeking bright through the slats of your blinds makes you wonder if you had somehow slept through your alarm, but the time indicated you still had half an hour before rising.

Scanning your notifications, you see a text from Lucien. Smiling, you open your messages…and promptly drop your phone to the floor as you suddenly bolt upright in bed, frantically blinking off the morning haze to clear your vision.

Oh my god.

Reaching out a shaky hand to retrieve your phone, you check the message again. Study it intently. Bring the screen up close to ensure this was no mere trick of the eye. For even though the photo was cropped mid-torso, the muscular V-line disappearing past the waistband of the loosened dress pants undoubtedly belonged to Lucien.

As did the massive cock standing at stiff attention, gripped at its base by long, elegant fingers you'd recognize anywhere given the number of times you’d worshipped them in your mouth.

No accompanying words. No explanation. Just the image of something - someone - you wanted so badly it ignited a dangerous spark from deep within all over again. You check the time: fifteen minutes before your alarm goes off. That’ll be enough, you decide, sinking back beneath the covers as your fingers find your clit.

That morning, you leave your apartment positively glowing.

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: Morning Commute

“On the subway today, I imagined you standing behind me. Inching closer and closer with each passing stop as people flood the space around us. The buckle of your belt would press cool and hard at my back, and below that, your erection — solid, like the steel tracks upon which the train was moving. I’d hear the soft sound of your zipper sliding down, signalling my obedient hands to lift the hem of my skirt — just enough to preserve a shred of modesty in light of the fact that I had neglected to wear panties. For you see, professor, all this time…I had been waiting for you to come to me.”

You hit the send button, a frisson of excitement shooting electric through your body as you close your laptop, trying to envision Lucien’s face when he wakes to your email in his inbox.

It is, in fact, you that are left shaking when you receive his reply the next morning.

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: Bountiful Harvests

“Peaches, my love, are currently in season in this part of the world. They filled the baskets at the farmer’s market yesterday, the same one I pass on my commute to and from the research institute. Round, ripe and fragrant, they infused the air with their sweet scent, and my thoughts found their way to you, as they often do. This time, I saw you lying on the hood of my car on that abandoned strip of road. Remembered the tiny goosebumps that dotted your soft skin whenever the evening breeze blew, the fine lace of your underwear hanging about your delicate ankle. Smiled when I thought of your tender flesh beneath my fingers, spreading to reveal glistening fruit and the most intoxicating fragrance. It awoke in me a hunger so primal it could only be sated by the flavour of your delicious peach on my tongue.”

“I can taste your sweetness even now, butterfly. You should know that each passing day is filled with the torturous prod of my unfulfilled desire for you. Continue provoking me as you have done, and I cannot be held accountable for any consequences.”

And there, in the warning that signed off on your lover's message, a seed of mischief was planted in the fertile soil of your imagination.

Its heft was strangely comforting as it gradually warmed in your palm, the fingers of your other hand running over the smooth surface of the glass dildo as you took another deep breath to calm your racing heart.

You had chosen the one he’d liked, the one Lucien had gravitated to in the adult toy shop he persuaded you to enter not long before he went overseas. “Let’s just see what’s inside, shall we? We don’t have to buy anything if you’re not yet comfortable,” he said then, as breezily as if he were shopping for a sweater. Thus enticed, you had stood with burning cheeks, watching as he picked up the sleek, glass dildo — elegant and beautifully shaped; no less a work of art than a tool for pleasure.

“This one’s perfect. I’d love to see it spread your pretty pink flesh from the inside when I slide it into your pussy.”

Lucien’s words came back to haunt you just when you brought the toy to the register. You had lowered your head even further, sheepishly hoping the cashier wouldn’t notice just how red you had become.

No matter. You were absolutely determined to give Lucien the surprise of his life.

And so it was that you found yourself crawling to the head of your bed after pressing record on the phone set up at the foot, lying back against pillows piled high to prop yourself up until the screen was filled with an image of you, clad in nothing but one of Lucien’s dress shirts.

You think of your lover as you unbutton the shirt, shivering slightly as you pull back the panels to expose your breasts. Close your eyes to imagine him above you when you spread your legs. Taste him in your mouth when your tongue peeks out to lick the glass head. Allow your saliva to run copiously down the column like it was Lucien’s flesh in your hands.

Then, looking straight into the camera, you slowly...slowly...push the dildo in to its hilt, moaning his name as you do.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for a full minute! Are you coming down with something? You’ve been really out of it these past few days.”

Anna frowns, brows knit together with worry when she suddenly puts a hand to your forehead. You start at the touch before looking up from your computer, warmed to the core by the motherly gesture.

“I-I’m fine, thanks. Just a bit tired, that’s all.” Conjuring up as bright of a smile as you could, you hope to pass your coworker’s sharp-eyed inspection. It was hard to keep anything from the woman who had known you for ages, but it wasn’t as if you were lying…completely.

For the truth of the matter was that you were tired, having spent the previous two nights lying awake in bed and agonizing over why Lucien hadn’t responded to your video. No texts. No emails. No phone calls. Regardless of how many times you had tried to contact him.

At first you questioned whether he had actually seen it; perhaps it had failed to send. But that theory was dashed when your message was clearly marked as read. Perhaps it displeased him in some way. Was it too daring, too out of character? Did he find it vulgar? Well, even so, the least he could’ve done was respond when you had gone out of your way to leave yourself so horribly exposed and vulnerable. On and on it went, the same frenetic thoughts racing through a frantic mind. Sleep, when it did come, was fitful to say the least.

“Your eyes are glazing over again.”

Anna’s voice draws you back to your surroundings — the bustle of your coworkers as they begin packing up for the day. Sighing, her lips press together in a defeated smile as she reaches over your shoulder to turn off your monitor.

“Go home and get some rest. I’ll wrap up here.”

“Umph!”

You’ve barely entered your apartment before a large hand clamps over your mouth, effectively robbing you of the chance to scream. Another hand circles your wrist, pinning your arm behind your back to push you face-first against the wall. And though you cannot see the perpetrator, you can feel the tension emanating from taut muscles.

A swift kick is delivered to your front door, slamming it shut with a bang that elicits a muffled whimper from your lips. The fluorescent lights of the hallway outside recede to a tiny sliver peeking through the crack under the door, illuminating next to nothing in your darkened apartment. You hadn’t even had the chance to flip the light switch before you were accosted, dropping your keys and purse onto the floor of your entryway — even now being brushed aside by the swipe of impatient feet behind you.

Growing mindless with fear, you start to struggle like a cornered animal, squirming to push off the wall for even just an extra inch of space to make an escape, but to no avail. The person at your back is just too strong. They press harder against you, and despite your panicked state, there is no mistaking the erection that settles heavy over the cleft of your ass.

They lean in close, breath warm and moist on the back of your neck. You squeeze your eyes shut in dread anticipation of what might come next when they suddenly fly open at the sound of a voice you’d recognize anywhere.

“I warned you not to take it too far, butterfly; told you not to push me over the edge. You should’ve stopped when you still could. Now, however…” Lucien pauses, tongue licking a wet strip from the base of your neck to the nape, “…now, it’s too late.”

Before you could respond or even process the shock of your lover’s surprise appearance in your apartment, he releases his hold on your arm, impatient hand sliding up your skirt. Strong fingers grip the supple flesh of your buttocks, kneading forcefully to steal any and all questions from your lips. And when they gather your panties in a violent bunch to rip them clean off your body, your mind goes completely blank.

Lucien releases his hold on your mouth, his hands making their way up and under your blouse to tug on the cups of your bra, freeing your breasts into the warm embrace of his palms. You gulp lungfuls of air but it isn’t enough — never enough — to quell the way your heart races around him. Because his touch was a drug to which you had been faithfully conditioned, readily responding to his every move. Like your nipples, growing hard with each pinch and roll between his thumb and forefinger, puckering in a beautiful show to entice the professor to take them into his mouth.

But your lover was much too impatient for that tonight.

“What will you do to me?” you ask, voice laced with a coy innocence to provoke, as was the subtle arch of your lower back — your ass grinding into the cock already straining hard against Lucien’s pants. For this was a side of him you had never seen before. There was no doubt he was an ardent lover: the man had proven the intensity of his passion many times over between the sheets. The novelty lay in the slip of his cool mask of control in his ironic exercise of it; in the hands that pinned you down, the body caging yours. The professor sought desperately to tame what had grown wild in his absence: your desire for him, and his insatiable hunger for you. And the knowledge made you wet.

“What won’t I do?” he replies, the statement deceptively simple for all the possibilities lurking beneath that dark promise. He pulls away and from behind, you make out the clink of a belt unbuckling, a leather strap pulling smooth through the loops of trousers. You press your thighs together in anticipation.

“Eyes on the wall. Spread your legs.”

Your obedience is instantaneous, mind awash in a dopamine haze as you bow to the euphoria of yielding to him. And when he rewards you with a rich chuckle rising from deep within his throat, you are so happy you could cry.

“You’ve been a most wicked girl, teasing me so. First that phone call, then the email. But the video of your little performance, prima donna? That…that really was the last straw.”

The leather belt loops several times around your wrists, Lucien expertly binding your hands and resting them on the wall before you. Then you feel his hand settle on your thigh, tracing up and down its length before sliding towards your heat. Bending closer, your lover whispers soft against the shell of your ear.

“Do you know what it did to me, seeing you unravel so beautifully while being denied the opportunity to partake in your pleasure? No matter how many times I spilled by my own hand, it wasn’t enough. I needed you and yet you were out of reach. It was torture of the most exquisite kind.”

His fingers approach your mound, stroke the hair at its apex with a few languid motions before his index begins its slow slide between flushed lips. You press your hands harder to the wall, bracing yourself against the tremble in your legs.

“I had to come back, butterfly…even if just for a day or two. It behoved me, as a professor, to teach you how it feels to be subjected to such inhumane treatment.”

A second digit joins the first, gently parting your pussy to tease at its entrance. Fingertips delve into the slick moisture, gathering your juices to lubricate a circular path about your clit, swollen beneath its hood under the influence of Lucien’s touch.

“So you, my love, will be taught a lesson on delayed gratification. You will not come until I permit it, do you understand?”

His voice hardens, stern in a way that brooks no argument. You nod vigorously, biting hard on your lip to stem the rising tide of tension surging through your core at the sensation of his fingers inside you, reaching deeper and deeper until the wet sounds suffuse the otherwise quiet space.

“Good girl.” A hand wraps around your neck — gentle yet firm — turning your head until your lips meet his, your mouth open to welcome the taste of his tongue in a deep kiss. Lucien kisses with a fervour that leaves you breathless and you respond in kind, surrendering to his will, his very touch easing the visceral longing that had built up in the month he’d been away.

The professor feels you tense, catches the hitch in your throat that he’d learned was a tell-tale sign of an impending release. So his fingers slow, Lucien giving you a disapproving tut when you groan to feel them pull out, leaving you hollow just as you were a few seconds shy of convulsing around them.

“Shh, kitten. I know. It’s a horrible feeling, isn’t it? Wanting something so badly but knowing you can’t have it. Not yet. I’m afraid you’ll just have to be content with this for now.”

His fingers flash before your eyes, and even in the dark, you can see the arousal stretching in thin strands between them. He brings the tips to your mouth, tracing along your lips before pushing past them to stroke your tongue, flooding you with the salt of your own flavour.

“I would ask how you taste, but I’ll find out soon enough.”

With that, Lucien whirls you around, and for the first time that night, you get a good look at him. He, too, had lost weight; the angles of his chiseled jaw looking sharper beneath the uncharacteristic stubble that darkened cheeks and chin. And despite the violet shadows beneath his eyes, the latter shone bright: the intensity of his want obvious through a shifting kaleidoscope of amethyst and onyx hues, the colour of his irises impossible to pin down.

He lifts you in his arms, guiding your legs around his muscular waist as he makes his way to your dining room table, laying you upon its cool surface. He pulls your legs to the edge, pushing them further apart as he drops to his knees between your thighs, that beautiful face dipping towards your core. Lucien’s breath is hot, caressing your sensitized skin to make you twitch though he hadn’t even touched you. And when you finally feel his tongue — broad and flat as it licks from the base of your entrance to the clit — you clench your hands in tight fists, fighting back the orgasm that threatened to overwhelm you.

You couldn’t come yet. Not when you didn’t have the professor’s explicit permission.

Lucien recognizes your efforts, smiling when he lays a wet kiss on your clit as a reward before burying his face even deeper into your folds. Continuing to eat, he hums appreciatively, hands sliding beneath your ass to lift for better access as his tongue dips further into your entrance in a bid to taste you from within. His stubble scrapes rough against your flesh; a tinge of pain to enhance your pleasure.

“Lucien, I…I can’t…can’t hold it in-”

“You can and you will, kitten.” The professor’s voice is muffled, continuing to lap at your pussy even as you start to thrash about on the table, fighting to exercise control over minute contractions that were getting harder and harder to contain. You strain against the belt wrapped around your wrists, trying to distract yourself from the intense throbbing in your clit. At this point, keeping your release at bay for a moment longer seemed like a Sisyphean task.

At last, Lucien relents, planting another kiss on your pussy before rising to stand. He looks at you, trembling and spread on the dining table. Wipes his mouth on the back of his hand as the other pulls down the zipper on his slacks. He extracts himself with care, smiles to hear you gasp at the intimidating sight of him fully exposed. Wraps those long fingers around his cock to slide along its length solely for the sake of eliciting a desperate moan from your lips.

He aligns his cock with your entrance; you sense it twitching against your wetness. And when the head, hot and hard, slides along your slit, you cannot help but lift your hips. Lucien chuckles again, but this time, even he cannot hide the shaky breath that tells you that this is as torturous for him as it is for you.

Then finally…finally…you feel him settle again at your entrance, feel the pressure of his push, the stretch of your skin before it gives and your lover is inside you once more, stroking hard and deep and so fast that you are already convulsing though Lucien had barely picked up his rhythm.

Your orgasm is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, the intensity of the sounds escaping your throat almost foreign to your ears as you inundate Lucien from within. Wave after wave of contractions traverse your body, taking much longer than usual to subside — undoubtedly spurred on by the way the professor continued to fuck you as he chased the ecstatic high of his own release. His hips snap ceaselessly against yours until he finally floods you, hot and deep, his arousal mixing with yours as his head settles on your chest to listen for the sound of your slowing heart.

“I can’t believe you caught the first available flight when you saw my video. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take you away from your work. I know how important it is—”

“Shh,” Lucien interrupts, planting a kiss on your forehead as he pulls the covers over the two of you, naked and snuggling on your bed. “Nothing is more important to me than you, butterfly. You know this. My research can wait for a day or two. Besides, that is not the most pressing matter at hand.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at him. “What is, then?”

Lucien’s handsome eyes narrow as his lips draw into a smile. “Well, there’s the issue of a very disobedient kitten who came when she wasn’t given express permission to. And I intend to use the rest of today and tomorrow to correct her behaviour.”

Thank you so much to the lovely person who commissioned this piece! I know there’s a lot of kinks to handle in this one story here, but I hope you liked the read! 🤣💕

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mr love dream date #love and producer #mlqc lucien #mlqc xu mo #mlqc smut #mlqc lucien smut #otonymous

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r3almellow · 4 years

Note

Hello! I would like to ask for the prompt 46 with Victor please 👀 you're very accurate with the characters, i love your writtings 💕

Thank you for the request, my dear anon! You are so sweet! Sorry it took so long, but I hope its to your liking!

From the 50 Kisses Prompts!

46. A lingering kiss before a long trip apart.

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You watched as Victor adjusted his tie for what seemed like the fourth time. You glared at the back of his head knowing he couldn’t see you.

“Are you still pouting?” He asked, not bothering to turn around to check for himself. You huffed and clutched the pillow in your arms tightly. How could you not be frustrated at the idea of your boyfriend leaving for an early morning flight because of a week long business trip out of the country? Not only was your sleep disrupted by his loud alarm, your pillow was abandoning you for a whole week!

“No...” You were always a terrible liar.

“If you had finished the report like I asked, I would have taken you with me.” He sounded like a parent punishing their child and you hated when he sounded like that.

“I did finish it. You just didn’t like it.” You frowned. You appreciated Victor not giving you special treatment just because you were dating, but that didn’t mean you didn’t want to choke him out whenever he was vocal about not liking your ideas. When he flat out said he didn’t like your latest idea and told you to do it over by the time he got back had, your blood was boiling. Three weeks worth of research and the idea of spending time with him in France for a week gone down the drain.

“Now you have more than enough time to make sure I do like it.” The thought of tossing a pillow at him in hopes to dishevel his business attire crossed your mind. Maybe if you threw it at his dumb head the impact would mess up his perfectly styled hair. It would force him to have to do it over, making him stay longer. You contemplated for a few seconds, but opted for a different approach.

Discarding the pillow in your arms, you slid out of bed smoothing out the large t-shirt you wore. You wedged yourself in between Victor and the dresser, forcing the man to look down at your pouting face.

He leaned in brushing his lips against yours, wanting you to meet him halfway and you did without hesitation. You wasted no time wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You loved the feeling of his soft lips against your own and knowing you wouldn’t be able to do this for an entire week made your heart hurt.

“Do you really have to go?” You asked, whispering against his lips. You hoped your crestfallen expression tugged on his heart strings just a bit. You knew your attempts to make him stay would never work, but you were going to make him feel bad regardless.

Victor pulled back to study your pleading face. There was a hint of regret flashing in his eyes. He didn’t like leaving you for long periods of time, but this trip was important. It was true that he was going to Paris for work, but that was only a one day thing.

Victor had other plans.

Plans that required extensive research on the best hotels and restaurants in Paris, preferably close to the Eiffel Tower. You staying home was probably for the best. He wasn’t ready to tip you off to what he’s been planning for the past two months.

“Would you prefer I ruin my relationship with my most prominent business associate just to stay here with you?” You pondered for moment at his question before giving your answer.

“Would that be so bad?” Far from it. He wanted nothing more than to be by your side. Not wanting to answer, he cupped your puffed out cheeks with his hands and kissed you again.

He felt your hands slip inside his suit jacket, gently massaging his clothed chest. You were creating small wrinkles on his button down white shirt, but he honestly didn’t mind. Slowly your hands reached for his black tie and as if knowing what you were up to, Victor firmly takes hold of your wrists to stop you. He gave you a warning look, causing you to giggle softly.

“It was worth a sh-”

You were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. It was most likely his driver informing him that he was outside. However, Victor made no move to answer it, his focus still on you. You gave a halfhearted smile knowing your time was up.

"You better call me when you land.” You buried your face into his chest, breathing in the cologne that clung to his suit. He envelopes you in a tight hug, the urge to stay with you growing stronger. The two of you held each other in silence for almost two minutes before you spoke again.

“You’re going to be late.” Your voice cracked a little. You’ve been doing so well with not crying this whole time, but now it was getting harder. You knew it was silly when he was only going to be gone for a few days, but you loved this man more than anything. Being away from him like this made you feel lonely.

Victor was silent as he stared down at you and suddenly you became aware of your current state. You looked like a complete mess while Victor looked as debonair as ever.

Victor on the other hand thought he was holding the most beautiful person in the world. Your hair was unkempt, you weren’t wearing makeup, and your clothing was just a shirt too big for your body. You were in your most natural state and he wanted nothing more than to ravish you with the little time you two had.

The phone rang again but abruptly stopped resulting in you looking over at it confused. An accidental call? When the phone screen refused to dim after a few seconds you started to feel a familiar stillness in the air. Before you could question it, Victor’s lips were on yours once again.

The time he spent with you was precious and maybe he abused his power just a bit, but he didn’t care as long as he had you in his arms.

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I’m practicing making things short for my prompts. How did I do?! Want to read my other writing? Check them out here!

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mldd #mr love queens choice #mr love victor

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years

Text

My Little Secret part 10

Summary: You find yourself into trouble really quickly, and thankfully Arthur shows up in the nick of time. You’re learning more about vampires every day, and the more you learn, the freakier things become.

Warnings: Blood, bodily injury, violence

Your heart leapt to your throat. Without a moment’s hesitation you spun around and ran. Boots hitting the concrete hard as you willed your legs to sprint as fast as they could. Everything around you became a blur. Your first thought was to get out where people could see you. The exit of the alley was just fifty feet ahead.

Your ankle rolled, sending a jolt of pain up your leg. You yelped and fell to the ground, the solid rock beneath ripping the wind from your lungs. The sharp throbbing radiating in your ankle was almost dizzying as you attempted to pull yourself up.

However, you couldn’t even get that far. A powerful force slammed into you, pinning you against the wall to knock the breath out of you once again. The back of your head collided with the brick, and an explosion of stars erupted in your vision as even more pain overtook you. You blinked rapidly to clear your vision, focusing on the being in front of you. The vampire glowered coldly at you, his mouth splattered with darkened blood. The coppery scent hit your nose and twisted your insides uncomfortably.

“You smell good…” he growled, his voice rough like sandpaper. “Full of fear… my favorite.”

His hand, quick as a bullet, covered your mouth as soon as you parted your lips. Before you could even say or do anything to stop him, his face immediately went for your throat. You closed your eyes and flinched as the needle points of his fangs grazed your skin. Your screams drowned behind his ice cold skin.

A split second passed and a loud THUD echoed against the close walls, and his presence disappeared immediately. You opened your eyes and turned your head to see a new figure had tackled your assaulter.

Except it wasn’t new. You’d recognized that dark red shirt. It was Arthur.

Relief flooded over you. Though soon replaced with confusion as their entangled bodies became a blur, unable to tell what was going on. In the blink of an eye, a silhouette pelted midair through the alley as if it were a football. It achieved quite a distance before slamming into the ground and sliding to a stop. Arthur’s figure came into focus for you, standing protectively in front of you. His opponent stood back up as well. Though too far for you to clearly see him, you heard an inhuman hiss.

Arthur repeated the sound, sending a shiver up your spine. “Back off fledgling, she’s mine.” He growled deeply.

“I don’t play by the rules, asshole!” the other responded, his voice a mere echo. In an instant you lost sight of his silhouette, but Arthur moved. Moved so quickly that it could have been a trick of your mind. The two of them became a blur again as their bodies collided.

You couldn’t follow their movements; simply too fast for human eyes to decipher. Darting back and forth and bouncing against the walls of the alley. Growls and hisses similar to cats fighting, if those cats were ten times their normal size. You could only wait with held breath, hoping Arthur would be the victor in this fight.

More seconds passed, and finally they separated. Arthur’s figure landed gracefully just a few feet away from you after flinging the other vampire further from you. He quickly yanked something from his belt and threw it so swiftly you could have missed it if you blinked. A fraction of a second later, the sound of liquid splattering the ground filled your head.

You blinked, letting your eyes adjust. The darkened alley was colored even darker with what looked like blood and… whatever else. Your eyes widened.

The aggressiveness vanished from Arthur as he turned around to face you. “Y/N, you okay?”

“Did…did he…explode?” you whimpered, turning your eyes to him.

A touch of contempt shadowed Arthur’s face. “Yes. Vampires don’t die too gracefully.”

You swallowed the bile that rose in your throat. Your stomach did constant backflips in reminder of what you just witnessed. “How did you…?”

He sighed, kneeling down to you. “Wooden dagger to the heart. One o’ the things that ring true from the legends…” he stared directly into your eyes. “The hell you doin’ back here anyway?”

“I…I was helping some drunk guy,” you explained timidly, glancing back toward the slump in the direction you came from. The drunk was moaning quietly. “He stumbled back here, I just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t find himself into trouble.”

“Instead you found yourself into trouble,” Arthur grumbled. “I told ya to be careful, Y/N. You know it ain’t too safe here.” His tone was full of disapproval.

“I know,” you sighed, avoiding his gaze. “I just didn’t want the guy to get hurt…”

You felt his stare on you, and you couldn’t turn to look at him fully yet. It was stupid, you knew that now. But you didn’t regret it. Still, you knew he wasn’t happy with you.

A long moment passed before he sighed. “’Spose I can’t blame ya for wantin’ to help…”

You turned to meet his gaze again, noting the softness in his blue eyes. He reached out to gingerly rest his hands on your neck. You let him. “Did he hurt you?”

He tilted your head very carefully to the side as his thumb smoothed against your jugular vein. Checking for bites. “H-he slammed me against the wall,” You stammered. “My head hurts really bad…”

Arthur’s hand immediately went to the back of your hand, his touch feather light as his fingertips roamed against your scalp. Even the lightest graze was painful, and you flinched away from his touch. He moved his hand away.

“No blood.” He stated, though that was the least of your worries.

Your leg twitched, reminding you of the injury to your ankle. You bent your leg toward you, wincing as the rim of your boot cut against your swollen skin. A small moan slipped past your lips as you attempted to move it.

This caught Arthur’s attention. He rested his hand on your calf to halt your action. His palm slowly slid down your leg and lifted it just above your ankle to brace your foot against his thigh. With cautious movement, he slowly slid your boot off to get a better look. Even in the dim, your ankle was practically twice its size and significantly darker with bruising.

“Can you move it?” he asked.

You flexed your foot just a centimeter. It was incredibly painful and you cried out. “I think it’s broken, Arthur. Or very badly sprained.”

He swore under his breath, and glanced left and right before looking back to you. “I’m gonna try somethin’…”

Before you could ask what, he raised his hand to his face. His mouth opened and two fangs suddenly flicked out. Your eyes widened when he bit onto his wrist. “What’re you –”

He pulled his mouth away and turned the inside of his wrist toward you, two deep puncture wounds flowing dark with fresh blood. “Drink this.”

You stared at him. “What?” was all you could utter. “No –!”

“Jus’ trust me, Y/N,” he said softly. “’Fore it closes up.”

“Are you trying to turn me?” was the next question.

“No, ‘course not. Jus’ drink n’ you’ll see.” He continued, a slight urgency in his voice.

Every part of schooling in your mind screamed no. It was unsanitary and didn’t make a lick of sense. But Arthur has yet to give you a reason not to trust him. You took a deep breath and grabbed his arm, pulling it to your face. Your lips locked onto the fresh wound, blood spilling into your mouth. It was… different than human blood. While the initial taste was the same, there was a tangy hint underneath the sharp metallic, and it tasted…good.

You sucked on his wrist, allowing the blood to fill your mouth and slide down your throat. Within seconds the blood stopped flowing as the holes in his skin closed, however you selfishly licked it clean before he pulled away from your grasp.

The pounding ache in your head slowly began to vanish, so did the dull throb in your ankle. The residual nausea had also begun to dissipate. You glanced at your ankle that still rested on Arthur’s leg, and blinked in surprise to see it was no longer swollen. You experimentally flexed it, expecting pain and finding none.

“Holy shit…” you uttered, turning your attention back to Arthur. “What…did you do to me?”

“Vampire blood heals humans,” he explained, sliding your boot back onto your foot. “No matter what the affliction.”

“Are you serious?” you gasped. “So you have healing powers?”

“Yes, one o’ our lesser known abilities,” he responded. He shifted to take your hand and help you up. “Jus’ don’t go blabberin’ ‘bout it.”

You stood up easily, staring at him. “Arthur, that could change the world!” you exclaimed.

He gave you a rueful smile. “I know, sweetheart. But the world ain’t ready for vampires.”

“Do you know how many lives you could improve just with that?” you asked.

Arthur sighed heavily. “I know, Y/N. Problem is people will take advantage. Humans are a selfish species, I know that better n’ anyone.”

You opened your mouth to create a counterargument, except your mind completely blanked. It was a true statement after all, people could be ruthless selfish monsters when presented with power. You made a face and closed your mouth, shaking your head. “Well… I guess then I should say thank you, for saving me again, and healing me.”

“Jus’ don’t make it a habit o’ runnin’ into dangerous people, vampire or not,” He lightly joked, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone. “You go back to the bar, I’ll catch up in a moment.”

You gave him a somewhat suspicious look.

“I promise, jus’ gotta make sure this mess is cleaned up. N’ make sure your drunken friend goes home without memory of what happened.” He told you before he turned his attention to the screen.

You nodded silently. It made sense after all, wouldn’t want to leave a bloody mess that anyone could come across. The drunken person began to stand and stumble around, though you wondered if he would have any memory of tonight once he sobered up. You began working your way back toward the original entrance you’d first found. Back onto the busy street surrounded by citizens unknowing of what just happened. Arthur’s blood had given you a boost of energy and shrouding your mind with a better mood. It was almost as if the ordeal had been hallucination. You glanced up at the streetlights, watching as the condensation that hung in the air shimmered beautifully like glitter.

You’d never seen such detail before.

You made it back after another moment, glad to be around people. Sam honed in on you like a tracker, a little concerned as you’d disappeared. You assured her you were fine, and Arthur came back a few moments later. It appeared as if he’d never gotten into that fight; not a hair out of place, no spots of blood, and not even any indicators of puncture wounds on his wrist.

You three didn’t stay much longer afterward. Your mind was too heavy with the events that unfolded earlier. Despite having your mood lifted, the memories remained. Even with another drink to somehow dampen your thoughts, it didn’t work. Whatever affect Arthur’s blood had on you seemed to override any additional alcohol to your system.

Arthur knew you were bothered, despite how much you tried to keep it hidden. He took the liberty of asking Sam to wrap it up for the night, and she complied without an argument.

---

Sam had dropped you and Arthur back at your apartment around midnight. After bidding one another a farewell, you hastily made your way back inside. Arthur was in your heels.

Once passing the threshold and flooding your living room with light, he asked, “You alright?”

You turned to look at him. Physically you were okay thanks to him, mentally your mind was muddled with thoughts. Arthur being a vampire was one thing, but meeting another tonight seemed to set the reality for you. You could have been seconds away from being another victim on the 6 o’clock news.

“Kinda, I guess,” You sighed. “All of that was just really surreal.”

He nodded in understanding. He stepped closer to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. His cool skin was welcoming against you, and you leaned into him with gratuity. A few seconds of silence ticked by before he spoke again. “Glad I got to ya when I did. Wouldn’t know what to do if I was too late…”

You shuddered involuntarily at the thought of it. A vivid flash of memory struck through your mind as you replayed the scene for the hundredth time that night. His voice, so protective over you… “What did you call him? Fledgling?” you asked, peering up at him.

“Means baby vampire. New.” He explained while releasing his hold on you. “They’re reckless n’ dangerous, don’t know the flow o’ things. He’s one of them who keep killin’ n’ drainin’ folk, or was.”

You frowned slightly. “How do you know that?”

Arthur hesitated, a shameful look briefly crossing his face. “I…was trackin’ him. It’s part o’ my job.”

“Your job?” you repeated. “So what is it that you do exactly?”

“Guess you could say I’m a bounty hunter. I hunt lawless vampires n’ bring ‘em to justice, one way or another.” He spoke with a sigh.

“So you hunt other vampires…” you recapped, folding your arms. “But why tonight?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, briefly avoiding your eyes. “Truth is I needed to be in Saint Denis anyway. Was gonna go after our initial plans, but since Sam offered, thought I could try to take care o’ business real quick n’ enjoy the rest of the night. Obviously that didn’t work out in anyone’s favor.”

Annoyance sat like a rock in your stomach. You should have just declined Sam’s invite and stayed in watching movies all night. You sighed heavily and flopped onto the couch, leaning back and placing your palm on your forehead. “I just want one normal date…” you moaned quietly.

“’M sorry, I shoulda said no earlier,” Arthur apologized, mirroring your thoughts. “Then I wouldn’t have put you in harm’s way.”

“Guess it doesn’t matter now,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes fixed to the ceiling. “I guess your night’s freed up then?”

“’Spose so, do ya want me to stay or leave?”

That was a good question. You weren’t annoyed with him, just the situation. Though that did nothing to mask the other unidentifiable whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. A terrifying experience that made the encounter with Tom seem like a skinned knee. You’d asked Arthur to stay with you then, even when you two were still just acquaintances. Something about his presence seemed to relax you.

Perhaps it was selfish to keep him around this time. However, the thought of sleeping alone tonight seemed unnerving. A silly and childish fear spurred by what you once thought were movie monsters. You knew other vampires couldn’t get into your house without an invite, yet the haunting thought loomed over you like a shadow.

You fixed your gaze to him again. “Please stay.”

He nodded. “’Course, darlin’.”

You weren’t tired by a longshot, but you changed into your pajamas anyway. You felt somewhat more comfortable and returned to the couch, opting to cuddle while turning on the TV. You didn’t feel like turning on a movie, but late night shows set a relaxing mood. Arthur had an arm wrapped loosely around you while you leaned on him, neither of you speaking for a while as your attention was turned to the TV. Despite having no body heat, it was nice to lean against him. His cool skin was somehow soothing even in your air conditioned home.

It was around 2 am when your eyes began to grow heavy. You hadn’t realized you dozed off until you suddenly felt his strong arms hoist you up like you were nothing. You opened them and peered up, making a small noise to catch his attention.

“I’m not tired yet…” you mumbled.

He chuckled in response. “Don’t gotta lie, sweetheart. ‘Sides, I think your bed’s more comfortable than the couch.”

You didn’t argue nor protest, allowing him to carry you down the hall and to your bedroom. He lay you gently atop the mattress before flicking the light on. Your body responded faster than your mind did, expelling a large yawn as soon as you hit the plush comforter beneath you. You met his gaze again as he stood next to you, an unsure look on his face.

You held your hand out, beckoning him to join. He however slightly frowned, and you spoke, “Not ready for you to leave yet, Arthur. Just stay until I actually fall asleep please.”

You had to remind yourself he originated from a different time. Sharing a bed with the opposite sex most likely meant something other than innocent conversation to him. Though you had to wonder as an outlaw how much of society did he actually conform to. He had no qualms about sitting on your bed the first time he was here, although it was when he caught you in a low moment. He was also a gentleman to you however, and most likely wanting to keep things clean for now.

After a long moment passed, he finally made up his mind and rounded over to the other side, carefully climbing on next to you and held his arm out again. You gratefully entered his embrace, resting your head against his shoulder.

Silence surrounded you for a few minutes. His thumb rubbed gently against your shoulder in a soothing motion. The movement from earlier had woken you up slightly, and you peered up at him again.

“Still can’t believe you healed me.” You said quietly.

He met your gaze, a half smile crossing his lips. “’Spose it’s better than takin’ you to the nearest ER and spendin’ the night there with a possible concussion n’ broken ankle.”

You hummed in agreement, reaching to rest your hand on his chest. “That would have been a fun situation to explain to Sam,” You giggled slightly, and then remembered a moment from earlier. “By the way, what was with that question you asked her?”

“Hm?”

“About her last name, or whatever. Do you really know her family?” you clarified.

“I knew her ancestors. John Marston n’ Abigail Roberts. They had a son named Jack. They was a part of our gang. John was my brother, did a lot for him n’ I helped him get out, provided a better life for his family. He had a ranch called Beecher’s Hope, not too far from Blackwater,” he sighed, his eyes drifting to stare at the wall. There was a distant look in his blue eyes. “Reason why I asked is cause your friend looks a lot like Abigail.”

You blinked at him. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “People say some genes can carry through generations. I’ve been ‘round long ‘nough to see kids grow up to look like their great-grandparents. Thought it was too much of a coincidence so I wanted to ask.”

“That’s amazing.” You commented, your thoughts wandering back. You remember learning about John Marston in that museum and in Shady Belle, how he left the gang in favor for a more conventional lifestyle. You also remember he was gunned down as his past demons caught up with him. You however never made the connection that Sam was a descendant of John. Did she herself know?

Arthur’s words however echoed in your head. “You helped him get out,” you repeated. “What exactly happened with your gang anyway? All this information I found out and nothing about how it ended.” you asked, though your voice was plagued with a loud yawn.

“A long story, one that I’ll save for another time,” as you began to protest, he shook his head. “You’re tired, sweetheart.”

You sighed in frustration. You hated to admit it, but he was right. Fatigue was creeping back up on you, and you wanted to be fully awake for this. It seemed like every time you learned something about him, it would create a whole new myriad of questions for you to ask. “The more I find out, the less I know about you every day, Arthur Morgan. You’re an enigma.”

“I guess,” he said with a smile of faint amusement. “Though I still can’t imagine why you’d be so interested in an ol’ fool like me.”

“Interesting, handsome, mysterious, sweet…” you paused when another yawn overtook you. “My savior.”

He placed a kiss on your forehead. “You’re too kind, sweetheart.”

You smiled tiredly, snuggling closer to him.

“By the way, I should mention this now,” he began, prompting you to look up at him. “Since you’ve had my blood, you’ll feel much stronger for the next day or so. Your senses will be heightened too, and…” he trailed off, averting his gaze and clearing his throat. “You’ll have some, uh, interestin’ dreams later.”

You tilted your head in curiosity, piecing together the things he mentioned. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“Uh, sexual.” He clarified rather bluntly, hesitant to look at you again.

You stared at him. You hadn’t expected that answer. “Wait, really?”

He nodded, eliciting a soft sigh and laying his free hand upon yours. “Known effect of vampire blood…ain’t sure why, sorry.”

You weren’t exactly sure what to think of that. Though your mind began to wander, and a nearly vivid image of him nude unwrapped in your mind. It wasn’t a clear view, it however reminded you of something. A dream of the same type just recently. Your face flushed with that memory, partially in shame for your brain in even concocting such a scenario when you’d barely even begun to know him.

But wait…

It seemed familiar, too familiar. You traced back to when it occurred, over the same night that Tom assaulted you. That following morning those abrasions and bruises seemed to have disappeared, as if they’d been healed overnight.

“Wait, Arthur…did you heal me the night that Tom attacked me?” you inquired.

A swift look of guilt overtook his expression. “I did…I slipped some drops into your tea. I know it weren’t right, n’ I almost didn’t do it. But seein’ ya look so troubled, couldn’t help it,” he sighed deeply. “Was a split second decision.”

First he glamored you, then he healed you, without any knowledge to you. Your stomach churned at the thought and you released a shuddering sigh of your own. He’d glamored you so you wouldn’t remember seeing him drinking blood that first night, that of which you were grateful for. Healing you after Tom…you remembered feeling much more content than you thought afterward. There was no leftover mental trauma that would be expected after such a violent experience. No scars to remind you of the way you’d hit the asphalt. He’d protected you that night, and had done it once again in some strange way.

It was a weird turn to rationalize it, but you couldn’t think of any reason why he wouldn’t. He saw you suffering and brought help in a way he knew that would help.

And that following day was when you shared your first kiss.

“Arthur, you didn’t give me your blood as part of a rouse to make me fall for you, did you?” you quirked an eyebrow in suspicion. “Planting immoral dreams in my brain…”

He gave you an incredulous stare. “No Y/N. It ain’t a love potion, I promise you that. Wouldn’t even do that to ya if it were the case.”

“That’s good to hear,” you said, meeting his gaze. “Because I’m not afraid to say I have a crush on you, Arthur.”

His expression softened as a smile touched the corner of his lips. His hand left your shoulder to stroke your hair in a smooth, rhythmic motion. “Glad to hear that, sweetheart.” He murmured to you.

“Still, I’d like a heads up next time…” you mumbled, beginning to feel drowsy once again. “Any other surprises I need to know about?”

His chest vibrated with a light chuckle. “No, not at all. Ain’t gotta worry ‘bout nothin’ else.”

You nodded and closed your eyes, enjoying the gentle tugging of your hair. A soothing motion that only enhanced the heaviness on your eyelids. “Then I want a normal date, okay?” you managed to say despite how raspy your voice was becoming. “Just you and me, no restaurants, no last-minute Saint Denis trips…”

“Whatever you want, darlin’.” He answered you.

His sweet voice echoed in your mind before you’d succumbed to the fatigue weighing you down.

---

Thought I’d provide a treat for my followers. I finished two chapters at the same time so enjoy!

#Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan #vampire AU #vampire!Arthur

84 notes · View notes

paulieshore · 5 years

Text

PART 3: How Does She Feel About Me?

Heres part 3 hope you enjoy, please comment and leave me some feed back. Reblog and follow for future updates! xxxxx Thanx for all the support

Characters: MC, Lucien, Victor, Gavin, Kiro,

Word count: 1 281

Warnings: None...yet...

Loveland Charity Event (Series)

Part 3 : How does she feel about me?

Maybe you should take him to the hospital to have him looked at, seeing as he won’t even let you look at him let alone look at you for more than a couple seconds... Something’s wrong with him….

After leaving the mall Gavin offered to take you home, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. Clearly, he wasn’t well but yet he still wanted to ensure you got home safely, you had bartered with him to go half way and get home and rest; but Gavin just wouldn’t accept any terms. So, you compromised and thought the sooner he takes you home the sooner Gavin got to go home himself.

The evenings weren’t as hot as they had been the past couple weeks, the air was beginning to crisp with a cool but gentle breeze. The trees had all reached their climax, their vibrant greens slowly dimming down. Autumn was fast approaching, how the seasons always made you feel sentimental.

Sitting on the back of Gavin’s bike, little did you realise as you were off in your own world the grip you had around Gavin’s waist had tightened just a little bit more.

Boy was Gavin having a rough day, but running into you at the mall was like fate. His day went from being shit, to being all worth it. He wouldn’t be where he was right this second, with you. Squeezing him from behind with your tiny frame… Even if it wasn’t intentional this made Gavin ever so happy. ***Best. Day. Ever. *** But his moment was quickly ruined when pulling up to your apartment, you bid Gavin farewell and told him to message you when he got home. This made Gavin chuckle, since the mall you had been nothing but concerned about him… Damn did he enjoy it.

“Alright, fine. Ill let you know when I get in.”

You smiled and just before heading in you had said, “You better or else!” with your hands planted on your hips. Obviously, you were just joking but Gavin seemed to have changed face. Before you could ask, he was just gone…

**Oh no, did he take me seriously??**

Meanwhile, Gavin drove off like a bat outa hell. He was trying to use the speed of the bike and the wind he was controlling to cool the rising heat of his body. That smile of hers then, and the way she playfully threatened him went from innocent to sinful within milliseconds. Gavin’s mind ran just as wild as the speed he was going, imagining you as dominatrix in his…… bedroom.

***Dear god help me!!** he thought.

BACK AT MCs: Hanging your dress in the closet you heard your phone go off in the other room. You walked into the kitchen and reached your phone out of your bag, and there it was the text from Gavin.

Gavin: I’m home now, no need to worry. Get some sleep.

You replied: Ok good, drink lots of liquids and get some sleep yourself. I really do think we should have had you checked. Thank you for helping me today and for bringing me home.

You sent your reply and waited anxiously for his text, you hoped you didn’t upset him after all that he did for you today…. Just then.

Gavin: I told you no need to worry, I’m okay really. There’s no need to thank me, it is what friends are supposed to do. We are friends, aren’t we?

Reading his reply, you knew he couldn’t have been mad, but his behaviour was indeed weird. You let it go and sent him one last text before turning in for the night.

You: Absolutely! I’m so blessed to have a friend like you Gavin! Goodnight.

Gavin had just taken off his shirt and headed towards the bathroom when his phone pinged. He read your latest reply and smiled, he felt he was the one who was blessed… Goodnight.

(4 days till the event)

Kiro was just going over his schedule with his manager on his flight back to Loveland pondering when he would have a moment of reprieve. He was thinking about MC and the last time they went to Souvenir; you smashed that pudding you were eating. He loved to eat but always found eating with her was so much better, food always seemed more enjoyable when he was. Kiro looked forward to getting back, his next gig wasn’t until this Charity event being held in Loveland but he had lots of interviews to do before then. He had asked his manager to have his schedule sent to you as well, hoping you both could coordinate some time to have a good meal together.

Kiro thought about asking you to come as support to his gig but, he thought other-wise. He wanted to shout to the world how much he felt for you but he didn’t want to make things awkward or put you in a bad position. Then it dawned upon him…. How does she feel about me?

That was just the pivotal point... It seemed today of all days; all four men were thinking the exact same thing...

Lucien/Victor/Gavin/Kiro: How does she feel about me?

Lucien was sitting at his desk; he’d just finished a lecture on bioscience to a few students. One student clearly had no idea what was going on but seem interested… He knew she must of been just interested in him… For some reason this had him thinking of MC, you never seemed to understand much but always seemed somewhat interested. You are his favourite clueless student. Then he wondered… How do you see him, how do you feel about him?

……

Victor was on his way to another meeting, being CEO of a financial company, he met people all day every day. Some times he felt sick of having to see people, a bunch of fakes; a bunch of idiots. Idiots…. His mind wondered off to MC, lord was she an idiot most days… but his most treasured idiot. You always seemed nervous around him sometimes you got bold and talked more than usual. He started to wonder… How does she see me, how does she feel?

……….

Gavin was going over some files on a suspect lead, this case had reminded him of the times you joined him on a few of his cases. You were a bit of a scaredy cat but he liked the fact you would rely on him; he swore he’d protect you, always. You had saved his life that day long ago... Without even knowing. He thought about your text last night… ‘I’m so blessed to have a friend like you Gavin!’ He sat there and questioned… Is that how she only sees me? …

…………….

You were just about to head for break, your phone lit up and tweeted like mad. Looking at it four very familiar names popped up on screen almost simultaneously. Each with very similar messages about this evening….

Lucien: Hey, any plans tonight?

Victor: Are you finished with the report? I need it tonight.

Gavin: Hey are you working late today, I can take you home?

Kiro: Miss Chips, I’ve got a moment a freedom this evening?!

You were sitting there just staring at your phone like a deer in head lights, not beknown that Kiki was standing next to you also looking at your phone. She practically screamed out, “OH MY GAWDD, MISS POPULARRRRR, FOUR DATES TONIGHT WITH FOUR DIFFERENT MEN EEEEKKKKK!!!”

You quickly shunned your phone away and turned to see the whole office floor of staff staring at you… Oh dear..

To be continued...

Please follow for future updates, support writers by reblogging and commenting please 💖

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karmangier · 5 years

Text

Two Men’s Talk

Shoutout to my awesome betas @fatwithoutkatsudon and Charlie (who’s not on Tumblr) !

[This 1780-word little fic supports the theory that in ep10 Yuuri bought one ring and then Victor bought the other matching one before their engagement scene]

“It’s almost like a marriage proposal.”

4:30 am. Yuuri turned off his phone screen and sighed in his head. He had been awake for one and a half hours and it was time to give up on forcing himself back to sleep. By his side, Victor’s breath sounded steady. Through dim moonlight permeating from the curtain, Yuuri could see the outline of Makkachin on the tatami, slightly rising up and then falling down in a similarly steady rhythm.

A few days had passed since the Rostelecom Cup, though the scene of their little reunion in the airport had been replaying over and over again in his head tonight. Yuuri was pretty sure it had nothing to do with jet lag.

He managed to stretch one leg out until it touched the floor, then slipped the rest of his body out from the blanket. Neither the Russian nor the poodle moved. Yuuri quietly slid the door open and closed it behind his back without making any sound. He walked downstairs to the hallway that connected to the yard, and opened the sliding door.

It was still completely dark outside. Yuuri was not sure if he could call it morning yet. He stared at the moon and got lost in its faint light, until he heard quiet footsteps approaching.

Yuuri turned around. It was Toshiya standing in the hallway, still in his pajamas. “You are early today.” Toshiya said with a yawn that he failed to hold back.

“Sorry did I wake you--”

“No it’s fine. I wake up early these days.”

The two stood in the hallway, gazing at the clear night sky without saying anything for a little while. November’s early morning coldness breezed by. Yuuri started to worry that his father might get too cold.

Finally, Toshiya broke the silence: “It’s cold. Come in and drink with me.”

“Whaaat???” Yuuri almost shouted from surprise, “It’s not even 5am in the morning dad!” Plus, you are not good at drinking at all, he said in heart.

“I just thought…you may want to talk. we haven’t had too much time to chat with each other recently… ” Toshiya smiled with slight embarrassment, “what’s the last time we drank together? The New Year? No… that was with Mari…”

Yuuri frowned. He did not need to think too hard on the answer to this question. Yuuri and his father had never drunk together. Five years ago when he left home for Detroit, he was not even at the drinking age. Yuuri tried to think of the last time he and Toshiya had a private time together, but his memory was clouded by skating and other more important stuff. Obviously more important than father-son moments.

Toshiya had already started walking towards the living room. Yuuri slid the door to the yard closed and followed him half reluctantly. During his Detroit years, Hiroko chatted with him on a video call every week, while Toshiya was always there as part of the background, watching tv or reading newspapers, most of the time not saying anything. But for some reason Yuuri felt that his father was actually listening to their conversations, perhaps because he was always able to smile at the right time.

By the time Yuuri entered the living room, he saw a sake bottle bathing in a bowl, from which hot steam was slowly rising and diffusing in the air. Along with it stood two tiny pretty sake cups and a small plate of edamame. It was hard for yuuri to believe this was not prepared. Toshiya walked back from the kitchen and sat cross-legged by the table.

Yuuri sat down on his knees. Neither of them talked. Yuuri watched Toshiya serve himself and empty a few cups in silence. Yuuri felt a little bit uncomfortable. After coming back in April, he spent most of the time training with Victor, while at home Hiroko and Mari were the two who usually talked to him. He couldn’t even think of a time when he had a real conversation with Toshiya. Yuuri reached out for some edamame. What should he say?

“You really like him.” Having emptied another cup, Toshiya broke the silence without looking at his son. Yuuri blushed, looking at the empty edamame shells on his side. Toshiya continued: “But you have been like that for years. I just had never thought you two would be a loving couple.”

Yuuri did not know what to say, so he filled his cup and emptied it in one gulp. Now he had the excuse for blushing like a goddamn tomato. Dizziness struck him. He had not had much sake before, only that one time in middle school when Nishigori stole half a bottle from his father and forced Yuuri to take a sip.

It was so weird that even though their kiss had been streamed internationally, and even though the whole family knew that they now slept in the same room, it was still embarrassing to discuss their relationship with his own father.

“And he seems to really like you as well.”

Yuuri had to turn his head away to hide his burning face. Also partially because he wanted to conceal a smile that he could not control for some reason.

Toshiya’s face was also red from the sake. “I-I also re-really like her.” He broke into a shy smile. “Your mom.” He added, staring at his cup. “When we first met --”

Yuuri now was pretty sure the sake had affected his father. His dad really was not good at drinking, especially now when they both had empty stomachs. It was the same old story that Yuuri had heard hundreds of times. Hiroko had worked in a bento shop and a young man with glasses bought 7 katsudons in 3 consecutive days. However, all the times he heard it, it came from his mother, usually with warm teasing. It was the first time his father talked about his version - though nothing was particularly different from what Yuuri had previously heard.

“So -- what will you do next?”

Yuuri had been lost in thoughts and busy with peeling edamame. He answered with confusion: “I, em-- I will keep training until the Grand Prix Final--”

“No -- I mean, you -- you and Victor.” Toshiya burped a little bit. Now he had to lean against the table to maintain his posture.

Yuuri looked at his drunk father in great surprise. How did he -- his father who had always been quiet in the background -- see right through him?

“I -- I haven’t thought much about it.” Yuuri stared at the corner of the table. This was purely a lie. It was almost like a marriage proposal -- Victor’s words had been hovering over his head ever since that day. He had imagined thousands of scenarios while walking, skating, sitting by the side of Victor at the dinner table and in sleepless nights. He, however, might never know how to -- would it be weird if he’s the one who initiates it? Or even in the first place, he would probably never have the courage to --

“Co - courage.” Toshiya interrupted Yuuri’s musing as if he could read his son’s mind. “You have it, in your name, Yuuri. You — you are so brave on ice… if you have something in mind… just - just do it. You don’t have to think too much…”

Toshiya chugged more sake in the next few quiet minutes. “I really like her.” Toshiya resumed his monologue as Yuuri was permanently staring at the table. He looked up at the ceiling and smiled: “Like, re - really. One day I - I finally made up my mind. I took her to that, that jewelry store under the castle. I pi-picked the most expensive ring that I could afford -- I was po-poor, like, no money…”

Now Yuuri had to listen with special attention. It was a new piece of story that neither of his parents had told before. “I was freaking out because it was only one, one ring… I couldn’t afford... You know, not a pair... so I was taking a b-bet. But, but! You know wh - what’s her reaction?” Toshiya stared at Yuuri, but his gaze was rather aimless.

“What happened?” Yuuri asked with great curiosity. A ridiculous thought that he should grab a pen and a notepad flashed by.

“Then she b-bought a ring as well! The same one! Fo-for me!” Toshiya said as his blushing cheeks seemed rather shining. He was shaking in excitement, lost in his precious memory. “We exchanged rings under the castle! It’s -- better than I bought two rings... It, it doesn’t feel like I - I was the sole one proposing -- we, we proposed to each other! She felt the same about me! I - I knew, knew it… somehow. It’s all -- so, so equal… so beautiful… so good… we love each other… It’s m-mutual… mutual… So much…”

Toshiya rested his head in his arms on the table. Yuuri heard snores in less than a second. He is so drunk, Yuuri thought, staring at his father’s messy morning hair and suddenly realizing where his own came from. He probably would not remember anything in the morning.

***

Having heard Yuuri walking downstairs and waited for a few minutes, Victor jumped out of bed, grabbed his phone and then walked on his toes across the room. Makkachin did not move a inch as Victor passed by her. Victor entered the bathroom and closed the door.

“Chris, I can’t sleep it’s been hovering over my head the whole night. I have to ask you about something.”

“What happened sweetie? Did you have a fight with Yuu-- ”

“No. Chris. Nothing like that. It’s just -- I have some ideas — about, er, a proposal, for marriage. I’d like to hear your thoughts on it.”

“Wow. But I haven’t bought my best man’s suit!”

“It’s just a thought.”

“When are you --”

“Chris, please, I’ve been thinking about this the whole night. No, not just tonight, since the Rostelecom Cup -- Please Chris, a romantic man like you, must have some good suggestions —“

“Alright, well, go ahead.”

“I’ve been thinking -- matching rings, better to be golden, in front of a church, would be awesome if there is a choir, just after sunset, maybe snowing a little bit…? Hey are you still there? What do you think?”

“Fascinating. I’m calling an uber to the mall now. It’s urgent. Shopping for the best suit in my life takes time, darling.”

#yuuri on ice #yoi #yuuri katsuki #toshiya katsuki #victor nikiforov #christophe giacometti #victuuri #fanfic #my first yoi fanfic!#my second fanfic ever #it turns out Makkachin has the best sleeping quality

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oilbun · 6 years

Text

want a lil victuuri thing I wrote to relax? sure ya do

The first rays of sunlight of the new day in Saint Petersburg peeked through the blinds of the once dim apartment bedroom, then, slowly danced its way into the whole room. Victor Nikiforov’s body, little by little, became conscious. First his toes, then his feet as he noticed Makkachin had moved from the foot of their bed to her own bed. Then his legs and arms as the fidgeted under the sheets, and finally his soft beautiful blue eyes. They finally opened as his lids could no longer handle being closed, or trying to block out the soft light of the sun. He rolled over in his bed, tiredly reaching for the nightstand, grabbing his phone and checking the time. Notifications dotted the lock screen as the time showed 8:00 AM. Victor put down his phone and rolled back over, his signature heart-shaped grin blossoming as he gazed on his beautiful fiance next to him. Yuuri Katsuki, asleep like a baby, lips gently parted and breathing soft. Yuuri’s dark hair was slightly messy from sleep, strands gently falling across his forehead and his closed eyelids. As he stared, Victor started absentmindedly twirling a lock of his silver bangs around his finger. God, could a man love as much, if not more than Victor did Yuuri? He couldn’t help it and wasn’t afraid to admit to himself that, he was indeed, absolutely smitten with Yuuri Katsuki. And as much as Victor wanted to watch his lovely beauty sleep, he couldn’t help but lean forward, kissing Yuuri’s soft face in an attempt to wake him up.

“Yuuurrriii,” Victor cooed, brushing his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri only tiredly mumbled in response, making the smallest, sleepiest noises that made Victor’s heart swell every time. He chuckled as he pulled Yuuri, the way he always needed Yuuri, close to him. The Japanese man smiled gently, snuggling into the Russian’s warmth, resting his head on his chest.

“Yuuri, I know you’re awake, I saw that beautiful smile,” Victor teased, craning his neck to look at him as Yuuri’s cheeks were painted with soft blush and he ducked his head into Victor’s chest further.

“Nooo,” Yuuri whined, with a light giggle in his sleepy tone. His sweet little giggles only filled Victor with more love and admiration, causing him to kiss Yuuri’s cheek, finally getting a look at those sweet dark brown eyes that could really make him melt. Yuuri, still in a sleepy state, reached over Victor for his glasses on the nightstand.

“Not even 5 more minutes?” He playfully whined, putting on his glasses and partially laying himself on Victor’s chest. Lovingly prompting him to wrap his arms around his beloved and kissing the tip of his nose.

“No my little pork cutlet bowl,” he smiled, brushing his hands through Yuuri’s hair again, playing with individual strands, taking in his lovely fiance. Yuuri leaned into Victor’s touch lovingly, prompting him to play with the silver locks of his love’s hair. Yuuri couldn’t help but burst into a sweet smile as the two just laid there, looking at each other with so much love.

“You couldn’t let us sleep until noon?” He teased, kissing Victor’s nose in retaliation. Victor only chuckled as he sat himself up against the headboard, holding Yuuri in his lap. God, Victor loved Yuuri so much, he tended to drift on how he got so lucky, so lucky to have this man, no, this angel that is Yuuri Katsuki.

“Well?” Yuuri smiled, putting his hand on Victor’s cheek, making him lean into his fiance’s touch.

“No, but I wouldn’t mind just staying in bed with you until noon,” Victor said, taking Yuuri’s hand and pressing the cool, gold band to his lips. Yuuri hummed appreciatively at the request, as the two locked gazes again.

“That sounds nice,” Yuuri said, leaning in and giving Victor a soft, loving kiss that made Victor melt, lovingly holding onto Yuuri. When their lips parted, Victor gave off an airy chuckle, his breath warm on Yuuri’s lips.

“What did I do to deserve you, Yuuri Katsuki?” Victor asked, putting his hand on Yuuri’s jaw, tilting his head slightly as his silver locks cascaded over his eye. Yuuri leaned into his touch, looking up at Victor and giving him a heartbeat-skipping smile.

“I ask the same to myself about you Victor Nikiforov,” Yuuri said, blushing at their casual flirts. Victor’s eyes lit up with delight as he showed Yuuri’s face with the softest kisses.

“Yuurrriii! You’re too cute!” Victor cooed, as Yuuri giggled between all the kisses. After the sweet commotion had settled, Yuuri now sat in Victor’s lap, laying his back on his chest, their legs comfortably tangled together. Fingers intertwined as the two lovebirds relaxed in each other’s company for a bit.

“Victor?” Yuuri asked, turning his head slightly, making Victor halt the braiding of Yuuri’s short hairs.

“Yuuri?” He always loved when they called each other by name, he loved the way Yuuri said his name, and he knew Yuuri adored when Victor rolled his off his tongue.

“What are we gonna do today?” He asked, turning around and facing Victor once again in his lap.

“Whatever you’d like, my love,” Victor said, gently holding his hips, it took every fiber of Victor’s being to not give a teasing squeeze. Though he loved when they were intimate, he also adored these soft, loving moments between them. Made Victor fall in love with Yuuri all over again.

“Maybe we can stay in bed for a little longer, then we can make breakfast, walk around, enjoy the day off, together.” Victor hummed in agreement, the two of them had been working non-stop on their skating, it was their first day off in a while. They could both feel they hadn’t been getting their fill of each other, sometimes the nights together just weren’t enough.

“Just a day in? Cuddling Makka, making a warm homemade lunch, lounging on the couch…?” Victor continued his love’s list as he kissed his head between phrases.

“Mmm.. We deserve some relaxing time.. Maybe a soothing bubble bath with a glass of wine or champagne even…” Yuuri said, causing Victor to drift off in thought and fantasy of showering Yuuri with love with every touch, smile, and kiss they might share today. Maybe they’d take a walk by the beach, become playful with each other and end up laughing in each other’s arms or their bubbly laughter from the wine they have and the cuddles on their couch. The kisses... Victor was brought back to reality when he noticed Yuuri was poking his cheek, making the cutest pout.

“Vityaa,” Yuuri whines playfully, causing Victor to blush a deep pink, “Were you listening to what I said?” Victor was too stunned to respond. His heart-shaped smiled bloomed once more as his eyes lit up with waves of love.

“Say that again Yuuri,” Victor purred deep and sweet, putting his hand under Yuuri’s chin, running his thumb on his chin gently. Yuuri only slyly smiled, pushing back his hair with his hand (mimicking his ‘eros” hair), he knew that Victor loved the pet name. Though most people in Russia called Victor that, when Yuuri said it, it was so much more different. It was full of love, and Yuuri only used it full of love. Victor also found it incredibly sexy when his love would speak in Russian to him. However, at this point, Yuuri was just teasing Victor.

“Vitya,” Yuuri purred just like honey. Victor’s heart was so full, he felt like he could just drown in Yuuri’s love, and what a way to go, he thought. Victor rubbed his thumb along Yuuri’s soft bottom lip that looked so damn kissable with his name on them.

“Yuuri,” Victor purred as he moved closer to Yuuri, lips just brushing. They looked at each other with sweet, loving, longing, half-lidded gazes.

“Vitya…” Yuuri breathed as Victor kissed his cheek, then the other, then his forehead, his nose… Victor then looked at Yuuri’s lips, flickering his gaze back up to those brown eyes he loved.

“Yuuri? Again, I love when you call me that…” Victor smiled, tilting his head and leaning closer to him.

“Vitya…” Yuuri said softly as Victor locked their lips, melting at their passion, never wanting to let go of their love.

#victuuri #victor nikiforov #yuri katsuki #yuuri katsuki #love my yuri on ice content #yuri on ice #yoi #yoi fanfic #enjoys #let yuuri say vitya #god i love when he calls him that #love my anime dads

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justrae2010 · 6 years

Text

Yuuri wasn't sure what time it was. He stared out through the darkness of his and Victor's bedroom, picking out the outline of Victor's pillow on the other side of the bed.

Victor-less.

Yuuri’s chest ached just thinking about it.

After being married for near ten years, he wasn't used to sleeping alone.

He didn't like it.

He knew it was silly. Victor wasn't even out of the country yet! He should be able to cope for a week without his husband… but at the second sleepless night without him, he was starting to wonder if he really could.

He wished he'd gone with him. If their six year old Sasha didn't have a parents' on Tuesday, then he would have. Without question.

As it was…

His fingers toyed with his phone, dim light glowing in the darkness. It made his eyes hurt. He hadn't even realised he'd clicked the call button until the line connected with a click. Victor's name stared out at him from the phone screen.

Yuuri just breathed brokenly down the line, not sure what to say.

“Couldn't sleep?”

Yuuri's lips quirked in the corners, eyes stinging slightly. “No.”

“Me neither.”

He was glad he wasn't the only one. They were just as bad as each other…

He set the phone down on Victor's pillow, knowing it would never be enough to really replicate the real thing. He smiled at it through the darkness anyway though, tucking his hand under his cheek.

“I love you, Vitya,” he whispered.

He could hear his husband smile down the phone. “I love you too.”

#yoi #yuri on ice #victor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #fanfic #victuuri #mine #these saps #love them #fluff

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n3rdlif343va · 7 years

Note

HAY GURL can i request some platonic phichit/yuuri shenanigans or a viktuuri valentines long-distance phone call for my baseball au 👀 HAPPY VALENTINES DAY 🌹🌹

Ok, you know I LOVE your baseball AU (which peeps, you’ll have to go order the @yoichasinggoldzine in order to be able to read it, but trust me, you are going to want to do this! Yuuri is an Olympic baseball pitcher, Victor is still a figure skater, and OH BOY it is a cute AU) and everything else you write (Ao3 here). Thank you for giving me the go-ahead to write this little one-shot drabble of your adorable boys :)

If Yuuri was being honest with himself, he had been waitingfor the phone call all day. The roses that had shown up at the practicefacility, delivered to him in the middle of his warm ups and given histeammates plenty of reasons to happily tease him. The teddy bear restingagainst his front door with a “you make me beary happy” balloon attached to hiswrist was a silly surprise that made him blush. The tagged picture onInstagram, previously unposted from the last time he had seen Victor was also incrediblysweet. Nothing compared to Victor’s voice though, especially not with Victor’svoice when he was laughing around his words.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my little slugger!”

Victor sounded excited as Yuuri answered the Skype call.Yuuri’s brain, however, faltered. “Your… what?” he asked, almost unsure that hehad heard Victor correctly.

“My little slugger!” Victor grinned, “you know, it’s abaseball thing!”

The chuckle escaped Yuuri before he could clamp his lipsagainst it. “I mean… yes…” he bit the inside of his cheek. “But I’m a pitcher…”

“Oh,” Victor looked curiously off the screen, browfurrowed. Yuuri watched him carefully, feeling the familiar flutters in hisheart as he studied Victor’s face in the dim light. “How about… are we in thebullpen? Because you are warming me up!” Proud of himself, Victor lookedexpectantly into his phone screen.

Yuuri burst out laughing, head dropping to his pillow ashis shoulders shook.

“Yuuri! Stop laughing, this is supposed to be romantic!”Victor’s last word hitched on a laugh of his own. “Do you play in theoutfield?” raising his voice over Yuuri’s laughter, Victor continued to stareat his paper.

“Um, no… why?” Slightly terrified to ask, Yuuri tried tobite back his amusement again.

“Because… you are an angel…” Victor gave him an exaggeratedwink. “Actually I don’t get this one.” With a shrug, Victor finally let his ownchortle slip.

“It’s an old movie, you are so cheesy,” Yuuri shook hishead, his smile undeniably full of affection as he wiped away his laughingtears.

“I am still learning new things about baseball,” Victorstated matter-of-factly. “I came across all these jokes in my internetsearches. I have been saving them.” His cheeks turned pink as he looked back toYuuri.

He isso cute, Yuuri thought to himself, checking his watch andcalculating the time in St. Petersburg. His surprise was a little late but itshould arrive while they were talking and Yuuri could feel the buzz ofexcitement running through him. “I miss you,” Yuuri said, blushing again at hiswords and smiling when Victor’s mouth became a happy heart shape.

“I miss you so much, I want to round the bases with you!”Victor blurted out. He had memorized most of his list and it would be a shameto let the jokes go to waste.

“Oh My God,” Yuuri groaned, “did you google what thatmeans?” He choked on his laughter as Victor slowly nodded with his eyebrowscomically lifting and falling. “Do you…” He question was interrupted as a knocksounded through Victor’s apartment.

“Hold that thought, my cleanup hitter,” Victor stood fromhis couch, the image of him shaky as he walked to his front door.

“That’s not…” Yuuri shook his head. Explaining baseball toVictor was turning out to be one of his favorite pastimes, but he loved it morein person. The way Victor’s eyes lit up as he asked questions and excitedlygrabbed Yuuri’s arm when he recognized a pitch. Yuuri’s heart felt the familiarsting of longing, only pulling himself back to the present when Victor squealedloudly.

“Look at these flowers! Yuuri!” Victor was trying tobalance the giant vase in one hand and his phone in the other. Slipping thevase of red and blue roses onto his kitchen counter, he plucked the card fromthe middle of them with delicate fingers. “Happy Valentine’s Day to my favoritecatcher.” Victor looked confused as he refocused on Yuuri, who was shaking fromanother attack of laughter. “Something else I need to google?” he asked,laughing because Yuuri’s laughter was contagious.

He definitely wasn’t going to explain his own lewd jokewhen he couldn’t experience the heat of Victor’s blush under his fingers. “Ohno,” Yuuri spoke, suddenly serious, “it’s something I will show you myself.When I visit… next week.” It was the last part of his surprise and Yuuri nearlywent deaf as Victor screamed “really?!” at the top of his lungs. Smiling, Yuurinodded, heart beating hard in his chest at the sight of Victor’s excited tears.

They fell into enthusiastic discussions about everythingVictor wanted to show Yuuri in St. Petersburg, including a promise to let Yuuriwatch him train. The conversation flowed until Victor began to nod off, hisdelicate eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks every time his head drooped. Itwas Yuuri who finally suggested they end the call, teasing Victor about howtired he was at nine p.m. while Yuuri was barely drowsy in the wee hours of hisown morning. With whispered goodbyes they hung up the call, both settling intotheir own beds separated by too many miles.

In the spirit of surprises, Yuuri leaned back onto thegiant teddy bear, snapping a hesitant selfie of his shirtless body. Adding thewords “one week” he sent the picture off to Victor and settled against hispillow to chase sleep.

In St. Petersburg, Victor contemplated his sanity as hebecame overwhelmingly jealous of a stuffed bear.

#dailyvicturi #victuuriwriters #victuuri #yuri on ice au #yoi #i love this AU #you need to read the real thing #because Mac is a far better writer than I am #talented friend #Rhett to my Link

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dadvans · 7 years

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episode two :: Yuri realizes, suddenly and terribly, he might be a little bit in love.

Victor doesn’t even try to go to sleep. He just lays in bed with his laptop, watching the thirty-seven takes of Yuuri trying to get “hi, I’m Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m the Bachelor” out of his mouth.

“Don’t they know who I am?” Yuuri slurs on screen.

“Yuuri, you have to put the champagne bottle down, you have to pretend to be sober,” Phichit says off camera, all authority gone from his voice. He’s trying not to laugh.

“Phichit,” Yuuri says, and he takes a big swig from the bottle, bubbles pouring down both sides of his lips. “You can’t tell me what to do. I’m Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m the motherfucking Bachelor.”

Victor pushes past the canvas tarp of the production tent only to be greeted with quiet. A dozen or so of the production staff are mingling in hushed tones, all showing varying degrees of hangover. Mila is wearing sunglasses, despite the only light in the tent coming from several dimmed monitors, and Cao Bin is holding two greasy brown bags that smell a lot like McDonald’s breakfast, and not at all like the untouched table of fresh fruit laid outside by craft services. Everyone smells like stale alcohol and sweat, wearing layers on layers to mask two hours sleep with no shower despite the early morning summer heat of Los Angeles .

“Where’s Sara?” he asks, looking around.

“Puking,” Mila says. Her voice sounds like gravel, and she takes a long, long sip of iced water.

“Well, at least she’s here,” Victor says. He’s mildly impressed and a little proud that no one called in or was arrested after last night. “Could someone go get her? Emergency producers meeting.”

Mila salutes him and ambles off to go find Sara. Victor goes over to the production grid on the far side of the tent and starts pulling down all the cards--cards that indicate villain plots, tearful confessions, potential rivalries, coordinated confrontations, a projected final two--only to rip them up and throw them on the floor.

“Thanks to Mr. Chulanont’s carefully planned deceit of his best friend, we have been served a curveball for a Bachelor this season,” he says, letting the scraps of cardstock flutter down past his Prada wingtips.

Phichit tries to call out, his tone both miserable and apologetic. “Victor--”

“I’m not mad,” Victor says, cutting him off. “I’m excited. We need to take last night into account moving forward, because Yuuri Katsuki doesn’t fit into any standard formula. We need new characters. We need unpredictable stories and unpredictable villains. We need fresh chemistry. I’ve had today’s entire schedule pushed back three hours so Yuuri doesn’t come back to set still drunk and we have a solid plan moving forward.”

(Yuri Plisetsky, 21, Team USA Gymnast)

Phichit pins a card to the board’s Week One column that says “YURI P. - VILLAIN” in thick, purple marker, and Victor puts a pleased finger to his lips to hide his smile.

“No way,” Mila says. “No one is going to buy him as the villain.”

“If we’re thinking outside the box, then there doesn’t have to be just one villain,” Phichit replies. His is the only card on the board. “And also, I think it’ll be a lot easier than you think. Yuri’s PR team approached us to help with his image.”

“What?” Half the room sits up a little straighter, leans forward, drop their pens.

“That’s not public information,” Victor says, staring at Phichit curiously; he always plays his cards closer to his chest more than Victor would normally like, but it’s only because he’s working three steps ahead of everyone else. Phichit gets off on the element of surprise as much as Victor, and maybe that’s why Victor trusts him so much. “How did you know?”

Phichit digs his phone out of his pocket, tap tap taps a few times at the screen, and turns it around to show the rest of the room the still of a grainy film. “Anyone who knows where to look can figure it out. Yuri Plisetsky may be America’s Golden Boy after the medals he earned us in the last Olympics, but only because his team was working overtime to keep content like this off of mainstream news outlets and social media websites.”

He presses play.

The video is poor quality, probably taken on an older model of phone, and it features someone who looks and sounds exactly like Yuri Plisetsky screaming at a Burger King employee.

“How did he make it past the psych eval?” Cao Bin asks quietly after the video ends. “He tried to whip that kid in the face with a gold medal. Does he usually wear that everywhere?”

“There are dozens of videos like this, and they aren’t impossible to find,” Phichit says. “It’s not a matter of if they come to the public’s attention, but when. But let’s say he gets onto a reality program that is watched by a few million in prime time that shows him as sensitive, caring, deeply passionate-- his team gets to say in the wake of those videos going viral, ‘oh, that was when he was young. He’s grown up since then.’”

“So, you’re saying let’s exploit and manipulate his anger issues and possibly destroy his life?” Morooka asks, incredulous.

“Nobody here is a saint,” Phichit replies. “I’m certainly not.”

“God help us all if we get on your bad side, Phichit,” Mila says, and she writes something down in her notepad and takes another drink of what Victor is beginning to suspect is definitely not water. “Anyway, if we’re talking about people who are doing this for their image--”

(Jean-Jacques Leroy, 23, Aspiring Model)

“He has a girlfriend,” Mila says, and another gasp blows through the room. She looks up to Phichit, who is still standing coolly by the board. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Phichit goes back to his phone and within seconds has an Instagram page pulled up. “If he adds you to his private Insta--which let’s be honest, he adds just about anyone who finds him, because he wants the endorsement money--he’s pretty honest about his relationship status.”

“How long were you planning on keeping this to yourself, Phichit?” Victor asks, looking at him curiously, then, “Mila?”

Phichit shrugs. Mila rolls her eyes. “You usually give out cash incentives for manufactured drama when you get bored during Week Three.”

“Shame,” Victor says. He hates being predictable. “What do you propose we do with this information?”

“It would be a pity if rumors started to spread on set,” Mila says, faux innocent, intent well apparent even behind her sunglasses.

“Or,” Sara says suddenly, grabbing her by the arm, excited. “Sorry, sorry, I just--I have an idea. We should pit him and Yuri against each other as rivals. Use their desperation for good publicity against them.”

“Holy shit,” Mila says gently.

“Beautiful,” Phichit agrees.

“Tell me more,” Victor says.

“We know their type. They want to make this about them, right? Conflicting personalities, both trying to prove something, the wrong thing--that they’re a good person--no, the best person-- and that they’re here for love. Let’s push them to their limits and see who is willing to take more risks for the sake of their image. We pit them against each other and let that drive the narrative.”

“You’re so evil, babe,” Mila says, and they cheers their plastic Starbucks cups that are definitely not full of iced water, Victor determines. “Love it.”

“Are we seeing them as endgame, then? Final two?” Cao Bin asks. He looks skeptical.

“Top four, at least,” Victor replies, writing his own “J.J. - VILLAIN - 4” card and pinning it to the board. “It would be nice to have someone in the top two who at least is pretending to be here for the rights reasons. Ideas, anyone?”

(Georgi Popovich, 27, former-Bachelorette contestant, single father)

“Oh, God no, can we please put him out of his misery?” Mila says, slumping back in her chair. “If we had a drinking game for every time he said ‘Anya’ or cried about his fucking kid, we’d all be dead of alcohol poisoning.”

“To be fair, after last night, I’m surprised some of us already aren’t,” Victor says. “But yes, agreed. The only person involved in this franchise that hasn’t unlocked his tragic backstory is the Bachelor, I’m assuming, which means that if he stays, it’s just going to be him rehashing what everyone already knows. Let’s try to get rid of him by Week Three, and go with someone else.”

(Michele Crispino, 22, Medieval Times Knight)

“Please, I’m begging you,” Sara says. “All of our lives would be easier if Mickey was getting laid on a regular basis.”

“I feel like that would be cruel to poor Yuuri,” Victor says. Everyone on set has had to deal with Sara’s Crazy Brother at least once. “I mean if Yuuri genuinely likes him, good for him. But your brother is a little… intense. I don’t want to take the chance manipulating him to the top.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a serial killer,” Sara says.

Everyone meaningfully does not look at her. No one says anything.

“Anyway,” Victor says.

(Minami Kenjirou, 21, Disney On Ice Performer)

“So, my brother’s a serial killer, but Minami ‘I Bought Your Old Outfit And Show Up Wearing It To Meet You’ Kenjirou isn’t a stalker,” Sara says flatly.

“I feel like it comes from a genuine place,” Phichit says. Minami was one of his personal picks during casting. “Like, having known Yuuri for years, I’ve met a number of his fans. Minami’s a figure skater too, and he doesn’t have the ‘steal a lock of your hair when I’m hugging you’ vibe that a lot of Yuuri’s other fans do.”

“I’m worried he might be too innocent for Yuuri. I think he was actually crying when Yuuri gave the rigger a lap dance last night,” Mila says.

“Yuuri’s a lot different when he’s sober, though. He needs someone fun and sweet like Minami,” Phichit replies.

“I realize that you’re trying to have your friend’s best interests at heart, but no one watches the Bachelor for sweet, innocent fun,” Victor says. “Let’s table Minami and look at some other options.”

Moving on they also discuss Leo de la Iglesia (23, College Radio Director), Seung-gil Lee (24, Dance Instructor) and Guang Hong Ji (23, Preschool Teacher). Nothing sticks. The board still only has the two cards pinned to it.

“What about Otabek?” Cao Bin suggests.

“Otabek was good on paper, but I would rather watch paint dry,” Sara complains.

“The guy is honestly like a Terminator,” Phichit agrees. “What about Christophe? He seems fun.”

“Christophe’s just here to have a good time,” Victor says. “I don’t think he believes in monogamy.”

“For all we know, neither does Yuuri,” Mila says, leveling Phichit with a look, “since he didn’t even know this was a dating program. He looked pretty thrilled to be sandwiched between four different men all at once last night too.”

Victor sighs and puts his face in his hands, peeking at the empty board through his fingers. Eventually he sighs, straightens himself up and says, “let’s scratch the board. For now. I like the Yuri-J.J. rivalry, but everything else-- I think we have to let Yuuri Katsuki happen to us instead of us happening to him. Deeper into production we can see what narratives are naturally unfolding and pursue those.”

“You want us to do this blind?” Cao Bin asks, disbelieving.

“Yeah,” Victor says, and he realizes he’s smiling. “Yeah. It’ll be fun.”

The Bachelor contestants who survived the first rose ceremony arrive in a fleet of Escalades at the OC Fair, producers and crew pooling out behind them. Even in the dry heat, there’s always something about walking into fairgrounds that makes Victor feel uncomfortably sticky all over. As he meets up with the crew and cast who are gathering around Celestino at the fair gates, he can see the look of discomfort on nearly all of their faces save Celestino, who is ever the professional.

“Now, I know that all of you are not here to see me,” Celestino is saying, his smile and laughter so fake and boisterous you can’t help but love him for trying so hard. The rest of the men politely chuckle. “We’ve got quite the event planned out today. Your Bachelor is currently waiting for you in the giant ferris wheel, where each one of you will get to have a private one-on-one that lasts for a single rotation of the wheel; that’s ten minutes, so make your time count, because as soon as your turn is over, it’s going to be your fellow competitor’s turn to try and impress. After every one of you has had an opportunity to sit down with the Bachelor, he will pick the five men who have made the best impression for a group date, while the rest of you will be escorted back to the mansion. Understood?”

The men are prompted to cheer in an exaggerated way, fistpumping the air, letting whoop-whoops out with their hands cupped round their mouths, “like the Bachelor can hear you!”

There’s a production tent already set up next to the giant ferris wheel, and the crew sighs in relief stumbling inside to escape the sun and carnival smell. Monitors are already set up with five steady cams showing Yuuri sitting with his hands in his lap in a carriage near the top of the ride. He looks surprisingly put together, which Victor credits the emergency wardrobe and make up team he sent to Yuuri’s hotel this morning. Victor puts his headset on, mic to his mouth.

“Good afternoon, Yuuri!” he says, wincing slightly as Yuuri yelps with surprise into his own mic and jumps a foot into the air. “Sorry, sorry, you okay?”

“Victor?” Yuuri asks, looking up at the corner cam.

“Yes!” Victor says. He doesn’t know why it thrills him so much to have Yuuri remember his name after a night of drunken debauchery, where during the rose ceremony he had trouble remembering half of the men’s names (“Nipples,” Yuuri had called out to a shirtless Christophe, “c’mere, you get a rose”). “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’ve thrown up twice since I’ve been on this ride,” Yuuri admits. “Don’t worry, it’s been cleaned up. This is a new shirt. I brushed my teeth. Someone brought me a vodka tonic.”

“Good,” Victor laughs, “good. Okay, we have the men coming down toward the ferris wheel on your right. When you get to the top of the ride we’re going to need you to stand up and wave to them. Think you can manage that?”

“Standing?” Yuuri says, like he can’t. It takes Victor a second to realize he’s joking. “I’ll try.”

The producers inside groan as Victor forces them outside the sanctuary of the tent to greet the contestants and shoot on the fly interviews as they wait for their turn to go up into the ferris wheel with Yuuri.

Victor mutes his mic so he can speak through his walkie without Yuuri hearing him. “Remember, we have two goals: find me two decent candidates for the final four, and give extra attention to Plisetsky and Leroy. We want them to feel the pressure. Whoever gets them to crack first gets the five thousand dollars burning a hole in my pocket.”

Phichit’s voice instantly comes on through his headset. “Define ‘crack.’”

“Something that we can use in a promo,” Victor replies. “I’ll know it when I see it. Surprise me.”

Guang Hong is the first contestant to get into the carriage with Yuuri. Victor’s first impression of Guang Hong was “too innocent, must be protected at all costs, who fucked up in casting to let this sweet, naive sunbeam onto the set of The Bachelor.” Victor is, as always, thrilled to find out he is wrong.

“How are you?” Yuuri says, standing up to greet him and help him in with one hand. Guang Hong doesn’t let go as they sit down across from each other.

“Afraid of heights, actually,” Guang Hong says, biting his lip and pinching his eyes shut as the ride jerks to a start.

“Oh!” Yuuri says, and he leans forward and brings his free hand to Guang Hong’s face, tilting it up. “Oh, hey, it’s okay. Just look at me and pretend, all right?”

Victor brings up Guang Hong’s casting application while camera five directly behind Yuuri’s shoulder gets a close up of Guang Hong’s big, dark eyes opening wide and staring sweetly at Yuuri like salvation. Guang Hong’s file has listed skydiving as one of his favorite past times.

“You smooth motherfucker,” Victor says to himself, impressed.

Georgi starts crying halfway through the ride. “My son just loves carnivals so much,” he says, snotting into his own shirtsleeve and wiping at his eyes. Yuuri looks uncomfortable with no escape.

“Take a drink everyone,” Victor says into his walkie.

Mila and Sara set up a corner for on the fly interviews next to a lemonade stand, which the men flock to in the midday heat. They manage to have Jean-Jacques (“call me J.J.,” he says with a wink) cornered, when Sara notices Minami directly behind him buying a pink lemonade, and nudges Mila in the side.

“So, J.J.,” Mila says, taking the hint, speaking a little bit louder for Minami to hear over the noise of carnival rides and the bustle of the surrounding crowd. “You’ve never dated a man before, have you?”

“What?” J.J asks, caught off guard. They had been talking about his modeling career.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sara says, sweetly. She’s looking at Minami, who is staring at J.J.’s back with curious intent, mouth tight around the straw of his drink. “All of your high profile relationships have been with women! Is this a recent development in your sexuality?”

“Well, I,” J.J. sputters, fumbling for his sunglasses suddenly, even though they’re in the shade. “Not really, uh. No.”

“Are you concerned a lot of the men here might have more experience than you?” Mila asks. Her ability to feign genuine worry goes unparalleled among the production staff. “You know, experience with other men.”

Minami’s eyes narrow behind J.J., as J.J. stops, considers the both of them for a second, and then laughs airily.

“I don’t know what you ladies are implying,” J.J. says coolly. “I’m here for the same reason as everyone else: to find love. Gender has nothing to do with it.”

Minami stalks off, and Sara has to bite the corner of her mouth to contain her smile.

When Minami joins Yuuri in the carriage, he starts off apologetic. “I think I came across too strong last night,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Yuuri says gently, almost amused. “Maybe we both need a do-over. I’m sure I didn’t leave the best impression last night either. I honestly--I can’t really remember much. You’re a figure skater too, right?”

“Yes!” Minami says, his knees knocking against Yuuri’s. He’s chosen to sit on the same side of the carriage as Yuuri instead of opposite him. “I skate with Disney on Ice! I was just the understudy for Olaf in the Worlds of Enchantment tour.”

“How was that?” Yuuri asks.

“Lonely,” Minami admits. “Touring, anyway. I always wanted to be a competitive skater like you-- I auditioned for the show before I even knew you were going to be the next Bachelor, but I was excited to find out when they announced it was you. It felt like fate, you know?”

“That’s sweet,” Yuuri says, carefully not agreeing.

“I just want you to know I’m here for the right reasons,” Minami says, and he takes Yuuri’s balled up fists into his own hands. “I’m here to find love. And I’m here for you. And also… well, I think there might be some people here for the wrong reasons.”

“Oh?” Yuuri says, looking up at him surprised.

“I just, well, maybe I shouldn’t say this,” Minami says, and he sounds so earnest, almost saccharine. “I overhead J.J. speaking to some of the producers. I get the feeling he’s here for his career. He was saying he’d never um. He’s only ever had high profile relationships with women.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says again softly. “Well, I appreciate you for letting me know.”

In the production tent, Victor says into his walkie, “it looks like we have a contender for that five k. I have Minami throwing Jean-Jacques under the bus, saying he’s not here for the right reasons. Anyone else going to play?”

“The money is as good as ours,” Mila replies, her and Sara’s laughter echoing in Victor’s earpiece.

“We’re not even halfway through the day,” Phichit chimes in almost instantly. He sounds cheerful, which is always promising. “And I have dibs on Plisetsky.”

“So, are you originally from Japan?” Christophe asks, stretched out languid and inviting across from Yuuri.

“Ah, yes,” Yuuri says. “I grew up in the south.”

“I’ve spent quite some time there myself on vacation,” Christophe says. “I love the food.”

“Oh?” Yuuri says, perking up. “What’s your favorite?”

“Hard to say. There’s ramen,” Christophe says, “which I love how you’re supposed to slurp up while the noodles are hot. Or takoyaki, maybe. There’s nothing quite like hot, salty-sweet balls in your mouth. I just love savoring them, holding the heat in and letting them melt on my tongue one by one.”

“Well, uh,” Yuuri says, shifting slightly. “That is how you’re supposed to eat them, I guess.”

The time the men get with Yuuri is approximately ten minutes, but it takes about twenty minutes altogether with mic and equipment checks. It’s been over three hours by the time Yuri is supposed to have his one-on-one with Yuuri. He’s been leaning against queue gate for at least thirty minutes with his jacket over his face doing some weird deep breathing exercises probably suggested by an anger management coach. Phichit makes it a point to walk past him with Morooka, commenting on how hungry Yuuri must be, having been cooped up the ride since noon, it would be so sweet if one of the remaining contestants brought him something sweet.

When he turns around, Yuri’s lifted up his jacket and is staring at the funnel cake stand across from the ferris wheel.

The ferris wheel jerks to a start again as Yuri sits down across from Yuuri. He’s got his jacket balled up in his arms, and unfolds it to reveal a steaming funnel cake with powdered sugar melting into the dough wrapped in checkered red and white paper.

“I figured being cooped up on this ride since noon, you might be getting hungry,” he says.

Yuuri hits the funnel cake out of his hand. It goes flying out of the carriage to the ground below.

“Sorry, I--” Yuuri starts, eyes wide. He looks surprised at himself. He says again, “sorry.”

“Uh,” Yuri replies. “Okay.”

“I don’t know what to say, I didn’t mean to, I just--” Yuuri is saying, until all of a sudden, Victor can’t hear him. He sees Yuuri’s mouth moving on the camera, but is getting no sound.

“Yuuri,” Victor says, turning his mic back on, “Yuuri, can you hear me? You cut out, Yuuri.”

Yuuri stops talking and looks back up to the corner camera. Victor can see him mouth ‘Victor?’ but can’t actually hear him.

“Shit,” he says. “Yuuri, you’re having mic trouble, we're going to have to bring you guys back around and start over.”

“Okay?” Yuuri mouths at the camera, and Victor sighs and stands up to leave the tent and see what the fuck is going on with the audio himself.

In the carriage, Yuuri turns back to Yuri. “It sounds like they’re bringing us back around. I don’t think my mic is working, so they’re going to start us over.”

“Oh,” Yuri says, looking away and cracking his knuckles in his lap uncomfortably. “You-- you’re not very good at this, are you?”

“Excuse me?” Yuuri says.

“This,” Yuri says, looking back at him and gesturing broadly with both arms. “You completely embarrass yourself on the first night getting wasted and shamelessly crawling over anyone on set who says two words to you. Your first reaction to someone offering you food is to literally slap it out of their hands. Sober You looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, or maybe you’re just constipated.”

Yuuri’s eyes widen, and for a second Yuri thinks he’s about to cry.

It’s a strange, shocking relief when he starts laughing instead.

“You’re right,” Yuuri admits. His smile is so sad, Yuri thinks. “I’m a complete mess. I didn’t even realize this was even a dating show when I signed up for it.”

“What?” Yuri doesn’t yell, but it’s an almost thing. “How the fuck do you sign up for The Bachelor without knowing it’s a dating show?”

“I’m not from here!” Yuuri says defensively, pained laughter bubbling out his mouth like the champagne he was pounding last night. “My friend’s a producer who suggested I do it to take a break from my career. I just--I don’t know what you know about me. My last competitive season just ended, and it was bad. It was so bad, Yuri. When my friend approached me about doing the show I was so in my own head trying to figure out if I just retire out of shame and become a hermit-- I was willing to do anything to escape that place. I didn’t even look at the contract when I signed it. I just wanted to get away.”

“Wow,” Yuri says. “Your friend’s an asshole.”

“I think he means well,” Yuuri says, but he doesn’t sound offended. Maybe he’s heard it before. “I’m not really known for being a people person. You were right just now, when you said I was bad at this. I’ve never been in a relationship before. And I really am sorry about the funnel cake-- I had gained so much weight by the time pre-production started, they’ve put me on this raw diet with the exception of clear alcohol, and--”

“Jesus Christ,” Yuri says. They’re at the top of the wheel now, and the the sun hits Yuuri’s face just right, the deep brown of his eyes looking like something worth sinking into and under. “And I thought I was bad.”

“What do you mean?” Yuuri asks, pushing his glasses up his nose, and Yuri is drowning, drowning, drowning.

“I, uh,” Yuri says, “I’m not really good at this either. Being here wasn’t my idea. My publicist thought it would be a good way to rehabilitate my image after I got in trouble earlier this year. No offense.”

“None taken,” Yuuri says. “It’s a relief, actually. I feel like there’s all this pressure on me to be this outgoing, sexy, mysterious figure, and I’m just not. Like you said, I probably look constipated half the time, I don’t even know what to say to half of these guys, or take what’s coming out of their mouth seriously.”

“Yeah?” Yuri says, curious. “Like what?”

“I think Christophe was trying to hit on me by talking about how much he likes eating fried octopus balls,” Yuuri says. “Another guy kept asking to see my feet.”

“Oh my God,” Yuri replies. “For fucking real?”

“For fucking real,” Yuuri confirms, and he smiles. It’s not his drunk smile, sloppy to one side and loose, but another kind of uninhibited that feels strangely private and wonderful for Yuri to witness. “This has actually been the best go-around so far.”

Yuri doesn’t choke on his own tongue. Weakly, he says, “yeah? You’re welcome.”

They’re almost nearing the gates. Yuri will probably have to get out, Yuuri too, and they’ll have their mic packs checked and get back in again and pretend it’s the first time. Yuuri grabs Yuri’s hand suddenly. “Hey,” he says. “I know… I know you don’t want to be here. For the reasons you’re supposed to be here anyway, but neither am I, and look-- I would like to keep you around. Just as a friend. It would be nice to have someone around that I didn’t have to try and pretend to impress all the time, you know?”

“Yeah,” Yuri says softly. “I know.”

They’re smiling at each other like they’re trying to hold their shared secret in their mouths as the carriage arrives at the gate.

The sky is starting to turn pink and orange by the time the one-on-one dates are ending, and the park is lighting up with spinning rainbows of colors becoming more and more defined as the sun continues to sink past the horizon. Yuuri stands with Celestino in front of the ferris wheel, and after some stage direction, draws out his selection of five men to take on a group date: Guang Hong, Leo, Otabek, Yuri, and some guy named Chad.

“That’s the foot guy,” Yuuri whispers to Yuri as they fumble through a house of mirrors. “I just invited him along to point him out to you.”

“What a creep,” Yuri says, absolutely not shivering when Yuuri puts two hands on his shoulder to slide past him to continue in the maze.

They go on a half dozen rides, each time another contestant getting the opportunity to sit next to Yuuri and hold his hand too tight in the thrill of the moment. Otabek displays terrifying proficiency at the ring toss game, and ends up winning Yuuri another stuffed bear.

“I’ll add it to my collection,” Yuuri says, vaguely remembering the one that Otabek thrust into his chest during the initial introductions.

The group is given front row access to the concert playing at the amphitheatre that night--it’s a band that none of them recognize, but they all pretend to be enthusiastic and thrilled to have the opportunity. Yuuri has three beers and starts dancing again, but manages to keep his shirt on this time. By the time they get back to the mansion, everyone’s shirt is cooling with sweat, stuck their skin.

“You smell rank,” Yuri tells Yuuri, helping him out of the Escalade. “Like, really horrible.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri says laughing. “You too.”

Yuri realizes, suddenly and terribly, he might be a little bit in love.

Chad gets eliminated that night. So do four other men who were brought on as filler cast. Georgi unfortunately remains, but Victor has faith the production crew will be able to fix that within the next few days. The biggest surprise is Yuri Plisetsky getting the first rose, despite what Victor has witnessed to be a stilted, uncomfortable dynamic between him and Yuuri.

He offers to drive Yuuri back to his hotel again, maybe going so far as to make it seem like this is something that always happens. Yuuri agrees, letting Victor hold the door open to the passenger seat of his Bugatti, only on the condition that Victor lets him pick the music.

“Is there something wrong with my music?” Victor asks. No one has ever commented on his music before.

“No, no, I love Soviet folk disco,” Yuuri says dryly, taking Victor’s phone in his hands and opening Spotify.

“You wound me, Yuuri,” Victor says, holding a hand over his heart. “And here, I was going to take you out for hot dogs.”

“You were not,” Yuuri says. “That would violate my apple and vodka diet.”

“I was going to treat you,” Victor sniffs. “You did so good today. But now, I don’t know. No one has ever criticized my music taste so cruelly before.”

“Probably because you would fire them,” Yuuri says, and it sinks in like a hundred pin pricks all at once, how right he is. The only people Victor has left in his life are the people he hasn’t let go.

“I feel like you’re saying such cruel, heartless things because you’re hangry, so I’m not going to hold it against you,” Victor says, but when he turns to get onto the Freeway, he maybe accelerates faster than usual and takes pleasure in the way Yuuri presses his hand firmly against the door as he merges four lanes over into the HOV lane at roughly eighty miles an hour.

When they pull up to Pink’s, Yuuri says, “I thought you were joking.”

“Why would I be joking?” Victor asks, putting the car into park and turning off the ignition.

“I’m still ten pounds off my goal weight,” Yuuri says. “I’m still not allowed to be around a pool or have my shirt off.”

“To be fair, you already broke both rules last night,” Victor says, getting out of the car.

Yuuri begrudgingly follows him. “Don’t remind me.”

They order hot dogs; Yuuri orders two, a bacon chili cheese dog, and a pastrami sauerkraut dog, and gives Victor a look as if to say try and stop me and I’ll eat yours too. They sit down between the newspaper stalls out front with their feet in the street and eat quietly while the cars pass them by. The summer air smells warm and sweet and dusty; it smells like city, and Victor closes his eyes and sinks into it like a hot bath.

“Oh, real food,” Yuuri moans around his chili cheese dog, leaning back and splaying himself wide on the sidewalk, each hand stretched out with a hot dog as if he were placed on some salacious hot dog crucifix. “Let me die like this, Victor.”

“Sorry,” Victor says, looking down on him fondly. Under the neon lights, with nacho cheese smeared down his cheek, Yuuri looks like all of Victor’s filthiest dreams come true. He tries not to choke, but lets himself reach down and swipe at the cheese with his thumb, before bringing it to his own mouth to lick it off. “Can’t.”

“Can’t?” Yuuri repeats. He’d been wearing a suit during the rose ceremony, but stripped off the button-down and jacket in the car, leaving just the white undershirt on. It’s skin tight and has ridden up just a little to show off a hairy patch of stomach, and Victor can see the delicate rise and fall of his chest when he breathes.

He looks away. Takes a shaky sip of soda. “Well,” Victor says, “you have nine more weeks of shooting to complete. Then you’re free to do whatever you like. But it’s my job to keep you alive until then.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, sitting back up. He takes another big bite of hot dog, getting more cheese sauce on his face. This time, Victor hands him a napkin.

#yuri on ice #bachelor au #the bachelor au #victuuri #viktuuri #yuriyuu #victor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #delaney writes

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juleswolverton-hyde · 7 years

Text

The Wolf and the Cat

A happy face stares back at me from the screen upon which I opened some kind of social media platform, one of many, in my browser. It belongs to the girl I once called mine and that fact hits me hard. She left me for another, a guy I do not trust at all. But it does not matter anymore. I am not supposed to care, now that we broke up.

Dread clings to me and in an effort to fight it I shut the laptop off before moving to sit on the edge of the bed, lighter in hand. That small ember somehow calms me each time I see it. Perhaps it is the control I have over it, one sure thing in this miserable hell called life. She was the only light in it, but it has dimmed. There is nothing left.

On the bedside table my phone goes wild and almost buzzes itself off of it. After having put the flame out for now, I pick up with a numb feeling and having no desire to talk to anyone. ‘Min Yoongi,’ I initiate the conversation with the person on the other side, not having bothered to check the name on the display. Details are the least of my concern.

‘Yoongi? Are you okay?’ Jin’s worried voice replies to the melancholic greeting. After a moment of silence and getting no answer from me, he knows what I have been doing. ‘You’ve been looking at pictures of her, haven’t you?’

Reluctantly I confirm that statement. It is all I have been doing these days, missing her more and more with every new image she puts online. ‘It’s not healthy, I know that, but I miss her.’

Even though she cheated. I need her.

‘Yoongz, you need to go out for a bit. Listen, my new boss and her daughter arrived in town and they need help setting up the bakery. Can you come and lend a hand? It will do you good to get out of the house. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a friend in Scarlet. She’s really nice for as far as I can tell.’

The prospect of having to deal with new people, especially a new girl, is one I would rather dismiss. I cannot afford to be hurt again. ‘No. You know I don’t like strangers.’

‘Please? If we don’t get things running, they’ll have to go back to England and I won’t have a job.’

‘Don't try to trick me into guilt. Find another way to make money.’

‘Come on, hyung. Don’t be like this.’

‘Like what?’ I growl at the second in command in our pack.

‘So stubborn and sitting in your room in desperation. You’re stronger than that, you’re a fighter. I’ll be by your side, so you won’t be alone.’

‘Thanks, but I still refuse.’

‘Suga, please come. I promise you won’t regret it and be able to forget everything for a while. You simply need something to do, a new focus.’

His persistence knows no bounds and thus annoys me greatly, but he will not shut up until I give in. There is only one way this can go. ‘You will have to do the dishes for a whole month, you hear me?’

‘Does that mean yes?’ The joy in his way of speaking is barely contained.

I roll my eyes, regretting and thinking it over already. ‘Fine, I’ll come.’

‘Awesome! I’ll be home soon to change clothes. After that we can head out together.’

‘Jin hyung?’

‘Yes?’

‘I bloody hate you.’

A hearty wind-wiper laugh resonates in my ear. ‘See you soon.’

‘Yeah.’ With that as my goodbye I hang up. I reach for the lighter once more, thinking about what Jin proposed.

Maybe you’ll find a friend in Scarlet.

I highly sincerely doubt that. She is probably just one more face in the ocean of many, nothing extraordinary. On top of that she will also likely work on my nerves.

Good God, let her not be like Hoseok. I can tolerate him, but that is merely due to him being my best friend. A girl with a similar personality is plain hellish.

The fear of meeting this mysterious person and her mother grows in my gut as I regard the controlled flame. It no longer provides any calmth, only chaos.

***

On the way to the bakery I nervously clench and unclench my fists or fumble with my fingers. When we come to a halt in front of a metal staircase Jin puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘It’ll be fine, hyung. Let me do the talking.’

I nod in gratitude and follow him up the stairs to the door to the apartment above the store. In the short amount of time before it is opened I put on a mask once more to hide the discomfort. I will only see them once and then never again, so I do not have to make too much of myself known. Besides, it functions as a sort of shield when I am in an unfamiliar environment and that feeling of safety relaxes me.

The door gets opened by the daughter and immediately I see she is not what I thought she would be. She is a few centimetres shorter than I am, has semi-long hair that has a balayage going from brown to a blonde colour that is very reminiscent of caramel and cat-like green eyes, although that can also be because of her eyeliner. They take me in and try to understand, see past the façade.

‘Scarlet, this is Yoongi,’ Jin introduces me to Amanda’s daughter.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, though it feels kind of awkward. ‘Hi,’ is all I manage to say under her researching gaze.

‘Nice to meet you, I’m Scarlet,’ she introduces herself, her voice sounding pleasantly.

I nod, not knowing what else to say. Curse this entire situation. I want to go home and compose, but I cannot leave my friend hanging. In an effort to continue the conversation, I bring up the topic for which we initially came. ‘Heard you need some help installing.’

‘Yeah, some ovens and fridges. Those kinds of things.’

‘Alright, I think I can do that.’ I try to emit an air of confidence, hiding away the fact that I am more than glad to be able to do anything without anyone’s attention. When she looks away I let the mask fall apart a bit, showing the world my true face. Playing a role non-stop is exhausting, but sadly necessary.

‘Um, Scarlet, shall we get to work?’ Jin asks her as he sees she is mentally somewhere else and drifting further away. She startles when she notices his voice. ‘Are you okay?’

Ever the motherly figure. However, a sense of worry grows in me as well, being all too familiar with this demeanour and being guilty of it too. Nobody should have to live with this crippling darkness and for some kind of reason I especially want to protect her from it.

She is just a girl, Suga. Everyone has their problems. Don’t concern yourself with hers. You will never see her again anyway.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. Just spacing out for a bit. Sorry,’ she apologizes sheepishly with a fake smile that looks uneasy.

‘Okay,’ Jin replies, in spite of clearly wondering as to what she is truly thinking and feeling. Nevertheless he lets it rest and walks ahead to the living room.

‘Keep your thoughts in check,’ I say as I walk past her, letting the irritation of her already creeping in my mind speak out. She must be kept at bay before she gets too close.

No one can find out.

***

Scarlet, Jin and I are completely focused on the task at hand when we are painting the living room. Well, I am the only person who actually does anything since the other two are goofing around. I cannot see what happens behind my back, but suddenly I receive a smear of granite brown on my cheek as a paint brush is being dragged across it accidentally by Jin. Scarlet delivers a spray of white paint when she tries to defend herself from the broad-shouldered guy by swishing a brush in his direction in an attempt to scare him off. A futile action, of course.

When I lock gazes with her, perchance a bit annoyed at the mess, she tenses up. Yet, when I show her a revengeful grin, she looks at me daringly as if to say ‘Give it your best shot’.

Courage building up, I remark. ‘Look at this mess. You’re supposed to paint the walls, not me. You’ll regret it though.’

‘Oh, snap, Scarlet. You’re in for it now,’ Jin chuckles, knowing how competitive I can get.

‘And did you honestly think you would come out of this unscathed?’ I point an accusing finger at him. ‘Don’t think so, hyung.’

What ensues is a marvelous war of colours and laughter. He was right, I need this distraction. I will not lie, I am having a blast at the moment and genuinely smiling for the first time in forever. Strangely enough it is not because of my flatmate, but because of this strangely interesting girl with caramel hair and intriguing green eyes who I just met.

‘Alright, I give up. You win, gentlemen,’ Scarlet surrenders after fighting bravely and puts down her weapons.

I look at Jin. ‘Just you and me now.’

‘Nah, I think I’ll beg for mercy,’ he replies, thus making me the victor.

Good thing we managed to not damage all the hard work we had done beforehand or we would be here for a couple more hours, something I want to avoid at all costs.

‘Seeing as we’re done here, let’s go downstairs and start working on the shop.’ She apparently does not mind we are all covered in paint as we go to the bakery for the next job, or purposefully ignores it.

A woman of a similar height to her daughter with chestnut brown eyes and short light brown hair with a diagonal lock that has been styled to cover a part of her forehead regards us with big eyes as we enter. This must be Scarlet’s mother. ‘What has happened?’

We all exchange glances with a devious smile, very recent memories of paint resurfacing. ‘Just a little accident,’ Scarlet answers innocently, almost bursting out into laughter again. I will not mind if she does. The sound of it makes me happy.

Wait, what am I doing? It is mere laughter. Piano music makes me happy, not this. I hate it when people laugh out loud, but why can I listen to hers all day? No, I need to stop thinking of her. It is infuriating.

And although I want to I cannot, making the annoyance greater.

What is she doing to me?

‘Okay,’ Amanda replies thoughtfully, not buying her daughter’s excuse. ‘Try to keep accidents to a minimum. Alright, back to work.’

Jin and I pick up a brush each and look at Scarlet with a promise of another battle. Silently she makes clear we have to behave, though it is tempting to ignore the warning.

Nevertheless, we behave like the well-raised guys we are and seriously try to get the job done.

But my attention is not entirely there, as it keeps wondering who our new acquaintance really is.

***

After lunch the first machines get delivered to the bakery. When the last giant box is put in the bit of free space that is left, the kitchen resembles a life-like version of Tetris. Amanda looks thrilled as she rubs her hands together. ‘Let’s get installing, lads.’

Scarlet, who is standing besides me and smelling of the caramel macchiato she had with her lunch, casts a sideways glance at me. ‘She means you,’ she teases cutely. Man, what on earth is she making me do? When did I get brave enough to be comfortable with speaking to unknown persons?

‘Fine by me,’ I reply nonchalantly, glad I get an opportunity to figure some things out without any disturbances.

‘Scarlet, I meant everyone,’ the boss corrects her, crossing her arms.

‘I know, I know. However, I don’t think I’ll be of much use. I mean, I barely managed to install my laptop properly.’ Suddenly I imagine her confusedly struggling with digital programs in an attempt to get her laptop to work, an overall adorable image that makes me feel a strange kind of fuzzy feel. It soon is followed up by more irritation. This thinking pattern has to stop. I just got out of a relation, so the last thing I want is another girl to waltz into my life, get me to love her only to abandon me afterwards. No, I do not want to give her that chance.

But maybe she is different? Stop, dammit! She will be no exception, so don't expect anything.

‘I’m sure we’ll manage, Amanda.’ Jin’s confidence sounds through once again in his voice as he places a hand on Scarlet’s shoulder, making me wish I had done it in his stead.

‘Sure…’ she answers uncertain.

‘Come on, Scarlet. It won’t be that bad.’

‘What if I mess up?’

I want to reach out, tell her she will be fine, but it takes everything not to do so. Who even is she to me?

‘You’ll have to pay then.’ Amanda allegedly looks sternly at her daughter, but the glint of a tease does not go unnoticed.

‘Since you give me allowance, you still pay for it yourself,’ Scarlet retorts, sticking out her tongue. The action is so endearing it makes my heart melt a bit. Then I remember the girl I once called mine and how she did that once. I fell just as hard for it as I do now.

Man, this caramel girl is driving me insane.

Amanda’s deep sigh pulls me out of my train of thought. ‘True enough. Well, lads, get to it.’

I follow the boss lady to the front of the bakery to install the cash registers. As my hands go on an automatic pilot mode, my mind tries to solve the impossible issues Scarlet presents to me and the Bangtan crew if Jin decides to introduce her to the rest. He will not be that stupid, will he? He knows what is at stake.

Pondering I set to work, but never before has something so simple felt so difficult.

***

At the end of the day, when everything is done and dusted, I return to the kitchen to see how the pink prince and the toffee princess are getting along. It suffices to say I am impressed by what I see when I walk in. All the machines are neatly installed and ready to use.

‘Nice job,’ I say, glancing around the room and trying not to give them the satisfaction of knowing how I truly feel about their ability to properly set up shop. I notice Scarlet’s cat eyes looking at me out of the corner of my eye, so I turn to her and cannot help but tease her a bit. ‘Jin did the installation, didn’t he?’

A pink flush colours her cheeks as she nods in embarrassment. It makes me smile a bit, but when she looks up again I quickly put on the mask once more.

‘She read the instructions to me. Without that, we would not have been able to do this,’ Jin speaks up to defend her. The man can recognize dad jokes, but seriously needs a lesson in sarcasm.

‘True.’ Before she can put more of a spell on me than she already has, I speak out a saving proposal. ‘Shall we go?’

I need some time alone in all peace and quietness to calm down and forget her. If I do not, I am afraid of what the future might hold.

My flatmate looks out the window to the sunset city. ‘Yeah, let’s.’ Before we can move, he does first turn to Scarlet though to say his goodbyes. In spite of knowing I have to do so as well, I notice a slight reluctance as to doing it. Why? Why cannot I not just walk away and leave her behind? ‘I had a blast. I’ll see you later, Scarlet.’

Wait. Later? How does he mean that? Do not tell me he is going to do what I think he is going to do. She must not get involved with us, for all our sakes.

A sense of irritation starts to rise up like so many times this day, but this time it is because of his stupidity and not due to the impossible issues she presents me with. It infuriates me even more he pats her head before moving to the door, because I wish I could do the same without making things weird.

Okay, calm down. Breathe. You'll never see her again. He didn't mean anything with it.

I repeat this over and over in my head as I follow my friend. Yet, as I am one step removed from leaving definitely, I quickly throw a glance over my shoulder at the girl with the gorgeous green eyes and fudge-coloured hair. A weird thought of a chance to see her again and actually become friends with her lightens my mood up and makes me crack a quick smile at her before I close the door behind me.

Yet I know that fantasy will never happen.

‘See? I told you you’d be fine. You seem to get along with Scarlet very well,’ Jin beams as we head towards our flat, where the worthless leader has probably already arrived back at from his trip to the library. The mere mention of her name reminds me of her kindness and all the weird things she makes me feel. Silently I avert my reddening face. Fortunately he is used to me not saying a whole lot, so he does not really mind it if he does not get a reaction out of me. But what is said next chills me to the bone. ‘I’ll introduce her to the others as soon as uni starts in August.’

‘You can’t,’ I blurt out. ‘Think about what you’re risking by that. It’s better for everyone if she stays away.’

He looks at me in puzzlement. ‘Yoongz, she won’t know. Besides, I thought you liked her.’

‘I do. Wait, no, I don’t. Dammit, I don’t know. It’s complicated.’ On one hand I do want to see Scarlet, but on the other I am afraid she will get too close and we will have to run once more. And we cannot do the latter, because there is nowhere left to go. If we are found, it is game over.

Why is the world so damn complex?

An arm around my shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, hyung. I promise nothing shall go wrong.’

There is no use in pursuing and making a case for this topic. It is inevitable she will meet the rest of the Bangtan crew. All we can do is keep up appearances and try to play our roles correctly.

With every step towards our flat and in the days afterwards the anticipation of our reunion grows, but also the terror that comes with it.

I will have to be cold and try to get her out of my head. Making mistakes has not been an option for a long time and I have a feeling Jin’s will do us in.

The coming time shall be painful and full of confusion as I will not be able to escape the girl who drives me crazy.

Scarlet, who are you?

#BTS #BTS ff #fanfiction #BTS fanfiction #Bangtan Seonyeondan #Min Yoongi #Yoongi #SUGA #Kim Seokjin #Seokjin #Jin #ff

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elsinore-and-inverness · 8 years

Text

Denouement ...?

(Part 2.) (Part 1.)

Sherlock couldn't sleep. People, especially the one currently snoring against his shoulder, frequently said that he possessed 'an astounding capacity for compartmentalization.' He supposed they were right, most of the time. He was capable of intense concentration and his deductive methods frequently relied heavily on an ability to set aside emotionality. There was a strange joy in that. Conversely he was usually able to set aside whatever he was working on (excepting the occasional obsession). But the events of the past twenty-four hours had shaken him to his core. He felt drained, like the very foundations of his internal world had fallen through. Again. He'd had worse. Much worse, in fact. But right now his mind was going about in circles.

Trying to piece things together. Eurus. Victor. Musgrave. Sherlock barely remembered Musgrave Hall. As far as he was concerned, he had grown up in the south of England. It hurt. These strange memories creeping out from some dim corner of the past. He stared at the ceiling. It really was too far away. It felt like he was in the bottom of cavern. He missed his room. John was mumbling in his sleep. Sherlock had never told him that he did that. He wondered if any of his girlfriends ever had. Or Mary. Sherlock didn't think he was ever going to be able to sleep in this bed. He heard his phone ring. It was on silent, but he heard it vibrating, the way you somehow always do. It was face down on the nightstand and he flipped it over to look at the caller ID. Molly again. He answered, holding the phone to his ear without sitting up. 'Yes,' he answered hoarsely. 'I don't want you to worry about... the thing.' Molly said apologetically. Sherlock moaned. He had almost forgotten about the thing. He let go of the phone in despair. It slid from his fingers to land on the pillow in front of his face. 'Talk to you tomorrow.' He whispered into the microphone, dreading the prospect. ' 'Night.' ' 'Night, Molly.' The screen went dark. He slid the glass and metal rectangle under the pillow so he wouldn't have to look at it. What a tide of woes comes rushing on this woeful land at once. Dear old Shakespeare. John shifted in his sleep, drawing himself closer to Sherlock. He had a responsibility to John. Sherlock was the one who had drawn him into this mess, so long ago. But at the same time he was beginning to realize that, just maybe, John Watson had a responsibility toward him. That it was a choice he had made. It's not his fault that I'm- That I- It was not a feeling Sherlock knew how to describe in words. He could probably put it into music, and he'd tried too, in various forms. Chemically, of course, he knew what it was. It was all too much. Grit in the instrument. He would just have to wait for the dust to settle. And find somewhere else to sleep. His eyes were still open when John awoke the next morning. 'Ugh.' John concluded blearily, recalling at once the events of the previous day. It was so succinct and accurate, Sherlock was reminded of how indebted he was to his friend's way with words. Sherlock swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood up. 'Is there food?' 'What?' 'In the kitchen. Is there food?' 'You didn't sleep.' John observed. His friend's eyes were so dark and haunted he almost mentioned something about ghosts. Then he noticed a small pile of lolly wrappers on the nightstand behind him, which Sherlock quickly and expertly swept into his hand without looking. 'No. Is there food?' 'No idea.' 'You're going to be off your feet for awhile.' 'I'll go mad.' 'It would be superfluous to drive us mad, a candid observer would certainly declare that we were so already.' Sherlock swept out of the room, retrieving his salt-stained white shirt as he did so. John soon heard a cry from down the hall. 'PG Tips? Is this a joke?' 'Do I judge your life choices?' John shouted back. 'Yes.' Sherlock responded, with the crashing sound of metal kitchenware tumbling out of a cabinet. Sherlock poked his head around the door 'There's no food, but there's tea and coffee and milk. Which do you want?' 'Tea, thank you.' Sherlock smirked, and returned a few minutes later with a cup of tea with exactly the right amount of milk in it. Years ago, Sherlock would use a graduated cylinder to measure milk, 'I'm a scientist, Watson,' which had instilled in him a continual fear of cross-contamination, 'I AM a scientist,' which usually led to John telling him to let Mrs. Hudson make the tea, 'I'm not your housekeeper.' John smiled at him, and Sherlock felt his breath catch momentarily. He looked away. 'I'm thinking of selling this place.' 'Good.' Sherlock said, far too quickly, before muttering something vague about capital gains tax. 'You're going to have to go shopping.' John pointed out, looking at his own feet. 'Who's taking care of Rosie?' 'Still Molly.' Sherlock suddenly found the ceiling very interesting. 'I'm going to see if any of my clothes survived the explosion.' He announced, before returning a few seconds later to dump an armful of books on the bed. 'If Molly shows up... Tell her I'm on my way.' 'What?' Had he really forgotten? It seemed impossible. No he hadn't. There was jealousy there. That pleased him far more than it should. 'Back soon.' Sherlock pulled his coat down from the top of the bedroom door, and John soon heard the front door close behind him, leaving him surrounded by a pile of books. John sifted through the pile. Jane Eyre, a few issues Guns and Ammo he had once taken from Sherlock's flat, a collection of C. Auguste Dupin mysteries, The Divided Self, The Picture of Dorian Gray, Hercule Poirot, National Geographic, Doctor Faustus, Sense and Sensibility...

#sherlock #johnlock #sherlock spoilers #bed sharing #fanfic #multichapter #fanfic wip

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yoi-secret-valentines2017 · 8 years

Text

You're Sweet Enough

Summary: Yuri does something romantic for Otabek on Valentine’s Day. Otabek really, really wants to return the favour. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go to plan.

Genre: Fluff TW: Food Word Count: 1.2k A/N: I found out through my Expert Stalking (I’m kidding) that you liked baking, so this fic happened. Thank you for forcing me to overcome my writer’s block and write some quality fluff. I hope you enjoy; happy Valentine’s Day!

for: @emisketch

14th February 2017

“Beka, get up, I made breakfast.”

This morning, the window isn’t shielded by the curtains. It feels warm under the layers and layers of soft blankets. For the first time, the sunlight isn’t aggressive and the process of rising from bed doesn’t include someone - usually his caring, but equally aggressive boyfriend - frantically screaming for him to get out of bed for training.

“BEKA! I SAID GET UP, I MADE BREAKFAST!” Yuri shouts from the kitchen. Otabek spoke too soon, it seems.

He rolls out of bed, runs a hand through his hair and goes through the motions. Teeth, a quick shower, light cologne to feel fresh and clean, casual clothes. Once he’s done, he picks his phone up from atop the bathroom counter. Just then, the screen lights up.

February 14, 2017 Messages: Yuri Katsuki [09:45] - Happy Valentine’s Day! Hope you have a good one. Are you up for a double date tonight? Our treat. ;)

At the same time Otabek is done reading the message, he hears a phone being slammed down onto the table. “Fucking geezers,” Yuri growls. Okay, he read it.

On special occasions like this, either Katsudon or Victor would send them invitations for days out, chill-in sessions at either residence or fancy dinner double dates. On special occasions like this, Otabek and Yuri like to spend time together, away from other people, either on the sofa in front of the television or in bed. The conflict of interest between both couples is clear.

Reply: We’ll pass. Thanks

With his phone in hand, Otabek heads out into the kitchen. “Are you sure you made breakfast? I don’t smell potatoes, or bacon, or egg…” Otabek muses as he saunters into the living room. The table is empty, but-

He is interrupted by a hand in his air and another pair of lips on his. “Good morning, Beka,” Yuri greets. In return, Otabek litters his lover’s face with small, affectionate pecks. Yuri still shies away from the attention, but he has learned not to escape it. At this point in their relationship, they are like lovebrds - both are hopelessly in love, but are in denial of what is glaringly obvious to the human eye. (It’s also glaringly obvious to animals - ever since the first time they visited Viktor and Katsudon’s home together, Makkachin has learned not to interrupt both couples when they stare longingly into each other’s eyes.) The smell of egg batter and icing sugar frames the scene well - both scents not assaulting to the nose, but not too subtle either. It’s sweet enough.

“Go wait at the table, loser,” Yuri gives his boyfriend one more peck to the nose, turns him 180 degrees and gives him a slight push towards the dining table. The set-up is strangely elaborate for the occasion. Why are there two empty plates? Why are there paper hearts all over the table? Since when did Yuri do crafts? Why are the lights dimmed? The situation is confusing enough as it is. Otabek doesn’t need to wrack his brain for answers to those questions. And yet…

Yuri walks out of the kitchen wearing an apron with a pink hoodie underneath it. He is wearing the pair of grey sweatpants Otabek bought him at a Thai flea market just a few months ago. Yuri looks so soft and cuddly and oh. He’s holding a cake. It’s a small chocolate cake, nothing extravagant.

As Yuri gingerly places the cake onto the dining table, Otabek scrutinises the pink icing. It takes him a solid minute to make out the words. “мен сені жақсы көремін,” the icing reads. Otabek notes that the handwriting is incredibly untidy. Yuri reads his mind.

“Yes, I know the handwriting is shit, I woke upat 4 for this, I was half-asleep, I -”

In between round after round of kissing his boyfriend, Otabek laughs, “Thank you, Yuratchka. I love you too. Happy Valentine’s Day.” Yuri blushes under the affection.

28 February 2017

Two weeks after Valentine’s Day, Otabek decides to return the favour.

It’s Yuri’s birthday tomorrow, and Otabek - honest to God - does not desire to sacrifice his hard-earned sleep to bake. He wonders how and when Yuri came to the decision to bake a cake for Valentine’s Day. It’s incredibly uncharacteristic of the fifteen-, or shall we say, soon-to-be sixteen-year-old.

Otabek cannot bake on his own. Between his birth, school and learning to skate, he hasn’t had much free time on his hands to explore food creation. Thankfully, he had thought to buy a recipe book on Russian baking before today, and yes! There’s a good recipe!

According to the recipe, “these lovely apple pirozhki will take about 2 hours to complete”. Yuri is out for training now. It’s 2pm, his training ends at 5pm and I need to be off for yoga at 5.30pm. Time to hustle. Otabek takes out of a paper bag the groceries he bought specifically for this purpose. Apples, flour, sugar, some salt, potatoes, yeast - potatoes? He realises his mistake, and shifts the unnecessary ingredient to the side.

Otabek begins preparing the pirozhki. He goes through the motions of preparing the pirozhki he and Yuri usually enjoy together. Stand mixer, put in the necessary ingredients, cut up the apples, the potatoes, once the dough is done, put in the filling - oh, should I add some honey? Yuri likes his desserts sweet.

It’s 4.30pm. When the pirozhki goes into the pan, Otabek thinks through his plan again. He considers decorating the table like Yuri did the last time, but decides against it. There’s not enough time. After all, he doesn’t have the luxury of enjoying desserts with Yuri like last time. He has yoga, why, oh why do I have to attend class in the evening today?

The pirozhki are done. Otabek picks one up and tastes it. “Why is it slightly salty? Why… oh no.”

There are potatoes in his apple pirozhki.

“Fuck, fuck, there’s no time to make these again… SHIT,” Otabek shouts into the void. As if on cue, the door clicks open. “Beka, you okay?” Yuri’s voice rings through the apartment. He walks into the kitchen, deeply concerned.

“I’m sorry, Yuri, I fucked this one up,” Otabek sobs helplessly into Yuri’s shoulder, finger wagging in the general direction of the apple-potato pirozhki. Yuri picks up the piece half-eaten by Otabek. He laughs heartily. He thinks it tastes good, and he doesn’t know what Otabek is saying. Whatever, I’ll humour him, he thinks, stroking the hair of a distraught Otabek.

“How do you bake without messing up? How did you have time to decorate the table too? How?” Otabek mumbles into Yuri’s chest. The second question startles Yuri.

“About the decorations… Katsudon and Viktor helped with those,” Yuri says with an air of disappointment. Otabek raises his head in time to see his boyfriend roll his eyes dramatically. “They said I need to be ‘more romantic’, so that was their attempt at helping me I guess. The geezers.”

Otabek sniffles into Yuri’s chest again, breathing in his scent and laughing heartily at his boyfriend’s absolute refusal to accept Katsudon’s and Viktor’s help.

“Your pirozhkis are a little salty, but they’re good enough,” Yuri continues, “you’re sweet enough.”

Otabek blushes. He forgets about the time.

#yoi secret valentines #yuuri katsuki #viktor nikiforov #writing #yuri plisetsky #submission

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