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thisisthehardestthing · 3 years

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тоска, 18+ Tanaka x Reader, 2.2

Written for The Smut Pile Server Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

тоска tus-ka: Russian, noun It is a dull ache of the soul, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, lovesickness.

Russian Mafia AU: Tanaka Ryu x A Reader OC Rating: E for explicit Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, Masturbation, Oral sex, Public Sex, Grinding, Cheating, Denied Orgasm, Manipulation, YEARNING Word count: 9,328 Part 1 | Part 2

GLOSSARY

Enjoy the final part of this two part hell.

Special thanks to: @joyousandverywarlike for being my ride-or-die, @pleasantanathema , @present-mel and @linestrider for hosting this collab, and everyone in the server for being amazing friends. I would not have been able to write this without any of you, and I truly mean that. @the-smut-pile

2.2

6. Tanaka

Daichi, Sergei, Ryunoslav and Yuuri sit in the wooden banya, white towels wrapped around their waists as they sweat and speak about the Georgian trip. It smells of cedar, rich and woody, and sweat. Like men.

“Boss Vashadze is unwell,” Daichi muses, knees spread wide as he relaxes against the hot walls, facing the glass door. “It won’t be long until he retires.”

Tanaka sits perpendicular to him, on a lower step with one foot perched up and his leg bent. Yuuri is opposite Tanaka, and Sergei stands, lightly smacking his back with a Venik, the scent of eucalyptus and birch dispersing through the air with each tap against his skin.

“That is good for you, bad for connections,” Sergei says, “how is business there?”

He always talked numbers first, pleasure second. Yuuri laughs, reaching for the besom of herbs from Sergei’s hold to lash his legs.

“Fine. I am gaining more of a footing around the ministers... However it will still take some time before they trust me. There are rumors of a new political party rising. We have to keep an eye open for unrest in Eastern Europe.”

“Ukraine?” Sergei asks, rubbing some of the leaves that stuck to his arms into his skin.

Daichi nods, then his eyes slide sideways to peer at Tanaka. His shaved hair has grown out slightly, which will be trimmed tonight, and he picks at his toenail of the foot bent beneath him.

“We can discuss strategy after we eat. How was your weekend, Ryunoslav?” The Bulldog asks, eyebrows raised.

Tanaka lifts his head casually with a simple smile.

“Just what I needed, spasiba Boss.”

Daichi’s laugh booms in the sauna, and Yuuri joins in, slapping the wood next to his thigh.

“Tell us more, Ryu! When I saw the first prostitute leave after thirty minutes, I thought it was over. But then, when I saw a second one arrive at midnight, I thought you must’ve not enjoyed the first.”

Tanaka frowns, looking at Yuuri in confusion before realising who he meant. He had seen Valentina arrive late at night, although he didn’t recognise her, or so he hopes.

“She was banging on the door very loudly, woke me up. Tell me, was it the same one from before wanting a second round?”

With a glance to Daichi, who is scanning his every expression,Tanaka shrugs.

“It was the same whore. I must be very good in bed.”

All the men burst out in laughter, but Tanaka laughs the loudest in compensation. Daichi closes his eyes as he tilts his head back.

“Well, she stayed for a long time. I only saw her leave past five am.”

“Yuuri, are you stalking Ryunoslav?” Sergei questions, using the water the Venik was soaking in to rinse off his body, the liquid sizzling as it hits the warm floor by his feet.

“No, I just found it interesting that Ryunoslav will fuck someone twice in a single night when there’s only been one woman he’s ever wan-”

“Yuuri.” Tanaka growls, cutting off his closest friend who has had too much vodka before entering the sauna. The heat and alcohol is loosening his tongue too quickly. Daichi sits up at this news, leaning forward so that muscle bulge and inflate.

“Oh? Is this true? Who is this woman?”

Tanaka waves his hand dismissively as he glares at Yuuri, “I met her years ago, when I first started working for you, Boss. No one of importance now.”

“Surely she still means something if you don’t want Yuuri to talk about her.” Sergei chimes in, climbing past their heads to sit on the top bench next to Daichi. Tanaka avoids his gaze, but can feel the Bulldog sniffing at the faint nerves that climb up Tanaka’s spine, his ears blushing red from the heat. He feels closed in, backed into a corner.

“It is an unrequited love, so please, I would prefer not to speak about it anymore.”

The men all murmur in understanding, except for Yuuri, who says, “I will just have to get you drunk to tell us about her then.”

7 - Valentina

Daichi sits across from you in the chartered jet, the beige leather seats muted even further with the deep rumble of the engine and the third glass of champagne in your veins. He’s reading a newspaper, you’re staring out at the cotton-peach clouds as they pass by. To your left, Sergei Sugawarov scribbles in books filled with numbers, the taptaptap of the calculator permeating the heavy air.

“Refill, Mrs. Sawamurova?” the air hostess asks, her smile wide as she holds the Moët & Chandon bottle in her manicured hands. She’s trembling slightly, and you smile reassuringly.

“Leave the bottle, thank you,” your heavy Russian accent drips from your tongue as you answer in English, and the bottle is placed in a silver ice bucket on the birchwood table between you and Daichi.

Two hours have passed during the five hour flight from Ufa Airport to Côte d'Azur Airport, and you pour another glass for yourself as you watch Daichi turn a page. He glances up at you with a small smile, but his eyes are hard. Something happened while he was in Georgia with your father. With a small smile of your own, you turn your gaze back to the window, leaving red lipstick on the rim of the glass.

A phone rings, and you hear Tanaka’s gruff voice answer the call, the memory of last week shooting painfully through your core.

“Oi?”

Some silence, before the Khazak turns in his seat behind Daichi and whispers through the space between the leather and the wall of the jet. You can’t help the way you look at him, stormy grey eyes peering out at you as he whispers into the ear of your husband. Your brow furrows when Daichi jerks his head in a slight nod, tense.

Tanaka retreats back around and you’re left staring at the empty spot, snapping your eyes to the calculating gaze of The Bulldog.

“Is everything alright, my love?” you ask, deciding to stand from your seat and sit on his arm rest.

Daichi folds the newspaper away, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other takes a sip of the champagne straight from the bottle.

“It seems this trip will not only be pleasure,” he muses, eyes closing as he swallows. However, when they open, his face melts into the calm reassurance you’ve always known when he smiles up at you and places a kiss to the cream wool crepe of your blouse. “I have something to take care of, but it will only be a moment. Nothing to worry about.”

You nod, delicate hands stroking at Daichi’s hair, but Tanaka’s cologne wafts up, invading your nose.

“I understand.”

***

The drive to the private Villa La Vigie winds between grey and green rock mountains to your left with glimpses of the dazzling azure ocean of where the French Riviera gets its name to your right. You’re invited to stay in the home of your fathers dear friend, Monsieur Lagerfeld, situated on a private hill just outside Monaco. He will not be there, March being the month he spends in his apartment in Paris, so you and Daichi and the many bodyguards take residence for the week.

You’ve visited this house a number of times in your youth, in your adulthood, and yet it steals the air from your lungs each time you return. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon when you pull up the driveway. In front of you, the two story villa looms in it’s beautiful white-painted glory, the sun a beacon shining upon it. Light brick extends below to where there is a wine cellar, garage and access to the private beach club below.

The car parks, and Daichi kisses your cheek in the backseat before he exits the vehicle and strides up the steps and through the large glass double doors, answering his phone while bodyguards open the way for him. You see Tanaka grip the steering wheel, the leather of his gloves stretch and squeak. It is the first time you are alone with him since that night a week ago, and the heater in the car feels sweltering against your skin.

“Thank you for the drive, Ryunoslav,” you mumble, shifting to the edge of the seat to leave out of the side Daichi had.

“Val,” he starts, then his mouth shuts and his eyes catch yours in the reflection of the rearview mirror, “of course.”

The terracotta tiles of the terrace reflect a salmon pink up the walls of the villa, and you smile at the men as you pass by and find the master bedroom on the first floor. You can already hear Daichi negotiating in the connected office, and you decide to bathe. As the water runs in the porcelain tub, the water mists with the scent of lavende de provence, and you open the windows looking out over the meditterean ocean. The salt and trees wash over you as the sound of the ocean crashing against rocks floats up, and for an instance, you imagine jumping out the window and into that endless blue. The winter air trickles into the warm bathroom.

Notes of a waltz dance in from the direction of the office and you see Daichi’s shadow move around in the bedroom as he unbuttons his cufflinks and loosens his navy blue tie. He walks into the bathroom where you’ve already slipped on the linen bathrobe, your blouse and jeans folded neatly onto the clothes ladder leaning against the wall.

“Care to join?” you ask, clipping your hair up. Daichi peels his shirt off and drops it near your own in a crumpled pile, his thick muscles rippling with each movement as he undresses.

“Prosti, Gadyuka. I have to get to the board meeting before the gala tonight,” he apologises, turning on the glass door shower as he gets into it on the opposite side to the bath. You watch as the water in the faucet of the bath sputters, and your heart imitates.

“Ah yes, I forgot. What-”

“The car arrives at seven, Khazak will escort you.”

Your head whips around to stare at Daichi as he massages white suds over his body, large palms running over his chest where the Sawamurov crest is tattooed in a large circle. He raises his eyebrows. You clear your throat, standing to drop the gown and dip a toe into the water.

“Not you?”

“Unfortunately no, but I will be there waiting for you. I know the dress you are wearing and can’t have any man trying to steal you for himself.”

Daichi’s honeyed words wash over you as you submerge into the water, turning off the faucet and staring out to the sea, a stark sapphire against the lily-white of the bathroom walls and window pane. In the mirror above the sink, you can see The Bulldog get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his defined waist while he shakes the water from his hair.

You laugh as you turn to observe him while he pats on the cologne displayed on the sink, before brushing his teeth.

“I doubt anyone will try to steal me away.”

He looks at you in the reflection, a curious expression in his eyes, before he spits and rinses.

“Yes, well, you never know. You might run off with a French vineyard heir by the end of the night.”

“Never, Daichi. No one can be my Bulldog but you.”

He snorts, turning to watch as you lather yourself in Chanel shower gel, the scent mixing with the lavender already clinging to the air.

“Da, no one is like me.”

He leans down to place a chaste kiss on your lips before he exits the bathroom and changes into a clean outfit waiting for him in the Master bedroom. The made-to-measure Chanel suit hangs in a black garment bag that he carries out with him as he leaves to join the council meeting of the European Casino Association before the Annual Art Auction tonight.

The interaction runs through your mind as you mull over the look in his eyes, the way he tensed before he kissed you goodbye, the faintest flicker of jealousy in his eyes that flared when he joked about you leaving him. Suddenly, you remember Ryunoslav’s lips against your neck and you squeeze your eyes shut. With a deep inhale, you sink deep under the water to feel it tickle your nostrils and earlobes, before submerging your head.

Your fingers find the curves of your thighs, dragging up slowly to feel how the water moves around your hands and displaces against your skin. You lift your face slightly, until the edge of the water tickles your skin and you inhale, swirling the skin of your clit. In your mind, Ryunoslav’s kisses fall hot and wet against your body, skin red and heated in the bathtub while you press hard circles against sensitive nerves. You’re not trying to take it slow, coaxing the first wave of clenches quickly as you imagine a thick cock sliding over and over inside you.

Ryunoslav morphs into Daichi, and you sit up with a gasp, fingers not slowing, your hand gripping the handle of the tub tightly as your abdomen contracts. Uncontrollably, Ryu and Daichi alternate, their bodies shifting fluidly until a faceless man fucks into you.

You orgasm on the verge of tears, confused and aching. The styling team will arrive in an hour.

You stand, feeling the cold winter air touch your heated skin. Wrapped again in the robe, you close the window and bind your hair in a towel.

A Russian Waltz still plays on the radio inside the ensuite office, and you look around to filter the channel to a French songstress crooning over the small speakers. Next to the stereo, is Daichi’s small black book, open to his to-do list, and your eyes scan over it before you can stop yourself, reading the neatly scribbled words.

14 March 2006, 1:00 am, La Serpent Fleur

That was the name of the Superyacht you and Daichi are to go on after the gala for the afterparty to the auction. You frown, thinking of the myriad of reasons what he might do there, who he’ll meet with other than the ECA board today. It must be to do with what happened in Georgia and was whispered to him during the flight.

You turn, leaving the book just as you found it and unpack the suitcase that was brought to the bedroom in preparation for tonight.

8. Tanaka

Ryunoslav waits at the front door, facing the short five-stair foyer that branches into the stairwell leading to the first floor. The golden light of the sunset filters in gentle waves through the chiffon curtains of the entry hall.

The first thing he sees of Valentina is in the reflection of the large silver mirror facing the stairwell on the landing. A single leg slinking out from a thigh-high slit, while a heart shaped pump in patent black is clasped around her ankle. The metal YSL heel clinks with each step. Next is the black, silk crepe de chine perfectly draping to the floor–not clinging to anything but the curve of her hips–and the bodice tailored to her waist in a tight structure that pendulums side-to-side.

However, what steals the very air from his lungs, stops his heart, is the bustier covering her breasts. The dress is strapless, the neckline two rounded cups that trace down the sides of her cleavage and towards her ribs before turning and meeting in a gentle hill at the end of her sternum. The dress is Yves Saint Laurent. Ryunoslav watches as Valentina rounds the stairwell and stands at the top of the foyer, opera length gloves running up her arms and with one hand on her hip while the other clasps a small black Bulgari clutch. Around her neck is a pendant necklace, emeralds glittering amongst diamonds and silver, set in the shape of a viper head. Matching emerald drop earrings hang from her lobes, reflecting the golden sun and glittering green against her neck. Valentina’s hair is pinned up, and that tattoo that curls from her left shoulder down her arm disappears beneath the gloves, reminding him that beauty is a secret poison. He swallows, blinks, then climbs up the steps to hand her the white fur coat he was holding.

“Vot eto da… You look beautiful, Mrs. Sawamurova.” Tanaka whispers, mindful of the bodyguards and staff littering the villa.

“Spasiba, Khazak,” she smiles, slipping her arms into the silk lining and fixing the collar. “Is the car ready?”

“Da.”

“Good, let’s go.”

The exchange between them feels mechanical, and Tanaka rushes ahead to open the car door, waiting until she is comfortable before shutting it and sliding into the driver’s seat. It is nowhere near the low temperatures of Russia in March, however he can’t stop the shivers that travel up his spine, and the ugly twist of jealousy that stabs at his heart.

The Casino de Monte Carlo, where the gala is being held, is a mere five minute drive from the villa, yet the silence is heavy, weighted, and slows down time.

“I missed you last week,” Valentina whispers, looking out the window at the midnight blue sky. A traffic light changes from red to green.

“Me too.”

The conversation ends when Ryunoslav pulls the Aston Martin around the fountain, waiting behind a elder couple stepping out of their black limo. The statues on either side of the Casino name look down at him as he parks and climbs out, a porter beating him to her door.

Camera’s flash, the music of a quartet floats out from the massive wooden doors up the entryway, and Ryunoslav remains closely behind Valentina’s right arm as he escorts her inside, pulling the ticket for both of them from his inner coat pocket and handing it to the doorman.

The grand foyer of the Casino is massive, ceilings high with a stained-glass skylight and the floor a white tile with black triangles in a circular pattern. Posed around the room, mostly in the center of the circles, are the artworks up for auction: a variety of paintings, sculptures, artifacts and some vintage designer jewellery. The golden chandeliers light the air with a sepia filter that softens the chatter and noise within. On the first floor bannister across the long hall, is a banner exclaiming, ‘2006 Annual ECA Art Auction’. Couples mingle, champagne is sipped and the Hors d’oeuvres are ignored in favour of the alcohol.

“I will check our coats,” Tanaka murmurs low in Russian, watching as Val slides the white fur down her arms to hand it to him with a polite smile, the kind he’s seen her wear in the public eye alongside Daichi for many years now.

“I’ll wait here, then we go find Daichi.”

His heart thumps painfully, the curve of her shoulders delicate as they flex in passing the heavy coat, but he nods and heads to the coat check just off the side. In passing, he spots Daichi at the top of the red-carpeted staircase, head bowed to speak secretly with someone Ryunoslav can not see, but knows. Daichi’s eyes find the growing storm in Tanaka’s with a smile, and he straightens to bid the woman a goodbye and descends the stairs.

“Sir,” Tanaka nods, pocketing the number for the coats.

“Ryunoslav,” Daichi returns the greeting, casually clapping the man on his shoulder. “Enjoy the evening, I will see you at the yacht later, yes?”

“She could’ve seen you, sir.” Tanaka whispers, carefully keeping eye contact with his Boss. Daichi smirks cooly, glancing back up the stairs and at a retreating woman’s back wearing a deep green dress.

“She did not see me. Thank you, again, for keeping this secret. Now, go, enjoy the party. Hell, if you see something you like, bid on it. I will pay.”

With that, Daichi walks past his Head of Security, chest puffing up as he walks towards his wife. Ryunoslav watches as she gives Daichi a gentle kiss on the cheek before wrapping a gloved hand around his bicep and following him into the crowd.

9. Valentina

The evening passes by in a blur.

The dinner and speeches take up half the evening before the auction begins, and the gala attendees disperse throughout the Casino, while you and Daichi walk to the gardens. Heaters are spaced periodically, warmth sinking below while gentle lights litter the walkways and grass. The stone steps leading there are cool, and you see your breath misting with each exhale before you’re back under the warmth.

The area of the auction outside has statues, planted with lighting that bring the romantic and violent figures to life.

“This one would look beautiful in our gardens in summer,” you muse, studying a small mermaid brushing her hair, tail flicked up and shells covering her breast.

“Anything for you,” Daichi replies, writing down a number with his auction code and placing it in the poll box besides the statue.

You just laugh politely, aware of Daichi’s two bodyguards following the both of you.

“Let’s go back inside. I want to see how our bid on the Kandinsky is doing.” Daichi offers, but you shake your head.

“I’ll walk around here for a bit longer. It’s such a beautiful night and the noise inside was giving me a headache.”

“As you wish.”

You spend a few minutes admiring the remaining statues, finding a waiter that hands you a glass of champagne. With small sips, you hug an arm around your waist, looking over the stone wall at the beautiful, glittering scenery of Monte-Carlo below. You find yourself tucked away in a dark corner of the ledge, where the lights of the gala are few, the tree branches of the gardens overhang, and the city has come to life beneath you. You can hear jazz music from a bar down the road, and you wish you were sitting on a terrace with a glass of wine instead.

“C’est magnifique, non?” A heavy french accent sinks into you, and you glance at the man that leans with his back to the view, a deep purple suit contrasting against his tanned skin and sharp cheekbones. He smokes a hand-rolled cigarette. You look back out at the city.

“Oui, trop beau,” you reply softly, taking another sip, shifting onto the foot farthest from the stranger. He turns and offers you one of the smokes, tucking it away in his jacket breast pocket with a smile and a tap when you decline. His eyes travel down your breasts, before glancing back up to your arching brows and unamused eyes.

“Je ne parle pas de la vue,” I do not mean the view, “Emmanuelle Beauchant,” he offers an outstretched palm.

“Valentina,” he lifts your gloved hand to his lips, but hovers just above contact when you continue, “Sawamurova.”

“Desolee, I did not realise you were not French, or married,” Emmanuelle apologises in English.

You smile politely, lifting the glass to your mouth to down the last of the fizzing alcohol.

“An honest mistake.”

“Your husband’s Casinos are some of my favourites. Please, accept my apologies. Let me get you a new glass.” He waves down a waiter, plucking the empty flute from your fingers and replacing it before you can reject. “I am the coordinator of this petite soiree. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Sawamurova.” With that, he leaves in a hurry, scampering off into the light much like he had appeared, leaving you alone again. Almost.

You feel the warmth of another body to your right, and you almost sigh from exhaustion when Ryunoslav’s gruff voice washes over you in comforting Russian. It breaks like the wave against the shore.

“I thought I would have to scare him away.”

Tanaka’s serious eyes beneath the shadow of a deep brow pulls the first real chuckle of the evening from your chest, and you see his shoulders somewhat relax as he leans with a hip on the stone.

“It was innocent, Ryu.”

“He wanted to fuck you.”

“He’s French,” you counter, placing the champagne glass down, sliding it away from your body and towards the party. “And everyone wants to fuck me.”

You spin, losing your balance as Tanaka pulls your hand towards him and twists you so that your back presses against the cool stone in a darkened alcove. His forehead is on yours, eyes shut, and breath fanning over your lips. Your own chest heaves with the sudden rush. His hands dig into your hips, yours into his shoulders. Your bag drops to the floor.

“You have no idea,” each word is punctuated by palms shimmying up the side of your waist, thumbs digging into the fabric, “how badly I want to fuck you too.”

He wraps his thick forearms behind your back hugging you tight and into himself as he folds over you and brings his lips to touch yours. It’s deep, and although passion usually pours from his kiss, this one is born out of jealousy, desperation, and desire.

Compliments drip like honey from Ryunoslav’s mouth as he mumbles them into your skin, words melting so that they become part of you.

“Ryu, Ryu, stop, we can’t. It’s so open.”

He shushes you, a palm snaking under the boning of the open neckline to cup the breast, nipplie erect from the night chill. “No one saw me come here.”

“But the people. They know who I am, mmpf.” A pinch to your nipple has you moaning under your breath, head tilting back against the stone, cold against heated flesh.

“They are all too busy with their own conquests, showing up one another.”

“You light a fire in my heart,” his onslaught of compliments don’t cease, and you realise that tonight is the tipping point. The intensity of his words drag you beneath his waters, much like the way his fingers find the high slit of your dress and sink into your folds. Your knee falls open to let him pull you deeper.

“Underwear?”

“Not with this dress.”

“Whore.” Teeth nip at your neck.

“Yours.”

An animalistic groan rumbles through your veins from his mouth, and you clutch at the lapel of his jacket as his fingers thrust shallow, over and over again. You want him–need him– inside you, and the thought of public sex no longer scares you. In this moment, only Ryunoslav exists, the smell of lilies and the fresh ocean fill you, devouring you with a hint of something darker that you recognise as human.

Sin. And something else.

A zipper comes down, his cock unfolds and stretches you out.

“I love you.”

The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, and even then, you don’t keep them in as you whisper, him thrustsing into your aching core. You vaguely hear him mumbling it back to you. His voice low and sincere, forehead against yours, lips against yours. Your bodies become one.

“Blyat, where can I?” desperation fills his voice, and you barely utter the words before he spills inside you, keeping you warm and plugged up, panting against his face, chin tucked down.

A hand rifles through his pants pocket, and he pulls out his regular small handkerchief, stained, but comforting. You take it from him, careful to keep your face hidden as he pulls out and you wipe yourself under your skirt.

“Ryunoslav.” His name feels like lava, molten on your tongue as it rolls down your body and ignites a fire over your skin, burning you. “We have to stop seeing each other.”

He tenses against you, arms shielding you from the world so only the two of you exist.

“Why?”

“We’ve changed. We’re not just having fun anymore, Ryu-”

“What do you mean we’ve changed?”

“Us. This.” You curse, gesturing vaguely to him and yourself, feeling the fire spread to your ears and your heart.

“Nothing has changed. I have always loved you.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, turning over and over as you digest it, painfully aware of how much truth rings in his words, and how you’re sure you’ve always loved him back.

“We have to stop. Or we have to tell Daichi.”

His lips connect with your forehead. You hear him swallow.

“Tonight then. Together.”

“Together.”

Ryunoslav stays close to you as he picks up the bag from the floor, handing you the mirror inside to fix your lipstick, your hair, before you dust the stone from your back and ass.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to you a final time, stepping to the side so you emerge from the shadow, pick up your forgotten champagne glass and head back into where art dances together and people mingle.

10. Tanaka

Tanaka watches as Valentina saunters away, past the bodies to rejoin the party. With a heavy sigh, he leans against the stone, cooling his forehead and calming his thumping heart. His feet bump against something and with one eye, he squints at the ground and spots glittering emeralds in the dark. Her necklace.

Quickly, he picks it up, carefully placing it in his suit jacket pocket, and curses when he sees the time on his watch. He has to find Daichi and head to the yacht to do the final security checks before he arrives. Vines wrap themselves around his intestines, anxiety leaking into each step, the emerald necklace a dead weight in his jacket.

He finds the Boss surrounded by influential board members, holding a glass of vodka casually as they all laugh at his jokes. The Chanel suit drapes down his broad back perfectly, clean cut and sharp, the single seam a crisp line.

“Sorry for interrupt,” Tanaka apologies, English tangling on his tongue. He continues in a low Russian to Daichi, sweat beading on the back of his neck, palms clammy and therefore kept in his pants pocket. It’s better that way, his tattoos are less appreciated around the higher class of society.

Daichi nods, a loose smile along with his loosened tie. He hands Tanaka a paper that shows he won the bid on the Kandinsky painting. “Arrange this on the way out. Leave Valentina’s coat with mine.”

“Ya ponimayu.”

Tanaka turns to leave, but Daichi calls out one more time.

“Ryunoslav?”

“Da?”

“You have lipstick on your collar.”

Tanaka feels nausea bubbling up his gut, not from the proximity of your scent to The Bulldog’s nose, but from the thought of later tonight. He forces a cocky smirk and shrug, turning on his heel to head to the back office to finalise the paperwork for the painting and add the delivery address, before shrugging his thick coat on and stepping outside by the valet. The air has cooled considerably from the heat of the balcony and between your thighs. Once safely in the car, he rubs the stain furiously in the reflection of the rearview mirror, making it set even further into the white fabric. It blends into the threads like spilt blood. With a grumble, he drives to the harbor.

La Serpent Fleur is a sleek superyacht with three decks above water and one below, housing jet ski’s, a speedboat, storage and crew quarters. The middle and lower decks have outdoor and indoor seating, with main bedrooms for up to 15 couples to sleep in. The flooring and interior is light teakwood, rich brown accents amongst cream and white leather and fabric. It’s unmissable in the late night, lit up in silvery white, the name illuminated against a navy blue sky and pitch black water. It reflects stars in the meditterean sea.

Tanaka greets all staff, deploying his bratva across the yacht to inspect all rooms and inform the captain of the upcoming helicopter landing at 1:00 am. It’s not often that Mafia business mixes with Business business, but as money is always intertwined, this time, it is unavoidable. The pool on the top deck shimmers aquamarine, and Tanaka inspects that the bar is fully stocked for the upcoming meeting. Vodka and Campari. This floor is only for Daichi and a select few.

“It’s like I’m a fucking assistant,” he grumbles under his breath, withdrawing a small hand-gun strapped to his calf and securing it in the hidden shelf under the bar top. You never know, he smiles, tapping the holster against his back for comfort.

All checks are done by the time the first of the guests arrive, high-stakes rollers for the gambling about to happen. Tanaka keeps to the shadows, lighting a cigarette as he surveys the walkway leading up to the yacht, and it’s guests. They are all smiling, huddling together in their pair against the cool ocean breeze. He takes a look at the pack that was confiscated from Ukai with distaste, flicking the cigarette into the ocean water.

Daichi and Valentina are the last to arrive, and although he’s smiling, she is not, lipstick slightly faded and a smudge of mascara under her eyes. Tanaka watches as she disappears as soon as she set foot on the yacht, hurrying off to inside the cabin before anyone can stop her. Tanaka’s eyes follow her retreating figure, the white of her coat bristling, before he steps up to greet Daichi.

“Everything is ready for Kuroo Testuro to arrive, Boss,” he reports, murmuring low.

“Perfect, evening has turned into disaster. Make sure no one will disturb us except for emergency. It will not take long. What is his eta?” Daichi never lowers the corners of his mouth, but those brown eyes are hard mahogany. Tanaka checks his watch, the light above reflecting in the glass, shining in the storm in his eyes.

“Forty-five minutes. We have to set sail now, all guests have arrived and the poker tables inside have been set up.”

“I will wait upstairs.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Tanaka sighs, running a hand over his shorn hair, a shiver rippling down his spine. He hears his name, and he turns to face one of his brothers, following after to inspect a stairwell.

It does not take long for the party to fall into full swing. Continuing with free-flowing champagne is the key to keeping rich socialites and underground dealers happy and oblivious. Daichi stands near the railing, ice cubes in his glass clinking while he surveys the decks below and waits. Tanaka stands to attention off the side, the cool winter air breezing through his suit jacket, the veins on his knuckles and forearms almost frozen; he stuffs them into his pockets. The cool silver of Valentina’s necklace shocks him and he remembers he has to sneak it back to her. He peers over the edge, spotting her in the distance, smiling once more, makeup fixed and socialising.

His heart thumps, emeralds and diamonds cutting a hole in his jacket pocket, beating faster until it syncs up with the incoming helicopter blades. They whir around in a steady beat that consumes the noise below and thrums through his bones. Then, the wind hits him. Air cold as ice as the machine descends, the collar of his jacket whipping up and folding into itself. Kuroo Testuro has arrived.

The blades come to a halt and Tanaka steps forward, two men overtaking him to climb up the stairs of the helicopter pad landing and open the door. Long legs dressed in a black pin-stripe suit step out, a lopsided cocky smirk plastered on the Italian boss’s face.

“Ciao Daichi, it’s been a while!” Kuroo calls over the wind, arms stretching out while he’s patted down. “Khazak, you’re looking sour.”

Tanaka scowls, not entirely sure what The Panther of the Testuro family said to him. Daichi turns to face the man completely, walking until he stands next to Tanaka, waiting for the man to descend the white metal stairs to the upper deck. The Boss’s exchange a stiff handshake, their eyes piercing as one fights for dominance over the other. Daichi wins, his hand slapping against Kuroo’s back in a hearty greeting.

“Let’s get to business, something to drink?” The Bulldog offers, but Kuroo is laughing, already walking to the leather sofas around the pool, flopping down onto it with one leg crossed over the other. He waves to one of his bodyguards, pointing at the bar.

“Always so formal Daichi, tell me, how is Valentina? Still married to you?” Kuroo’s words tumble out quickly, Italian accent thick enough that Tanaka can only pick up on a few words. He registers your name, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention, ready to attack at Daichi’s order. The Boss takes a deep breath, his teeth gritting.

“She is fine. Enjoying party below.”

“Pity, I think she’d be happier up here with us. Won’t you call her?”

“Careful, Kuroo.” Daichi warns, but the Panther just smiles his wicked Cheshire grin in return.

“Ah, I’m joking. I will just keep the fantasy of her lips around my–”

A hand darts out over Kuroo’s shoulder, interrupting any further explanation of imagination. Tanaka grabs Daichi’s arm, one that had tensed with it’s fist closed around a concealed gun in a holster on his back.

“Campari, sir?”

“Ah! Grazie!” He takes a sip, setting it down on the glass table beside him. “Now, we can talk business.”

Tanaka listens to the low conversation between the two bosses, the discussion of the new trade route of cocaine between Italy and Russia. It takes some time to adjust to the accent, but then he’s following along, standing with his hands in his pockets, a thumb gliding over the necklace. There had been an interruption along the coasts between Lecce and Albania, several different Sicillian Mafia’s holding up some of Daichi’s shipments due to unpaid ‘reparations’, a farce to ignite a turf war between the Families in Italy and their Russian connections.

“You must call off your friends in Italy. We keep up our end of bargain. I will not be so understanding in future.”

“Ah, but you see, they are greedy and believe you are not paying properly for the passage.”

“I assure you, I am.”

Tanaka stiffens, seeing how Daichi begins to inflate, irritation lacing his voice. Kuroo chuckles, taking a slow sip with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, I believe you. I can convince them but I’ll need some extra incentive from your end.”

Tanaka speaks up, eyes narrowing as he sniffs out Kuroo’s angle. “We can not give you that.”

“You are one of the largest groups in the world, surely you have some men for me?”

“No.”

Tanaka’s blood begins to boil, nails biting into the skin of his palms enough to draw blood. The gun strapped on his back heavy as it calls to be unholstered. His men are not dispensable. Kuroo sighs, then his eyes glance to the left where the noise of the party floats in the night air, and he smiles.

“Then maybe you have a woman.”

Tanaka turns to follow his gaze, and climbing up the stairs slowly is Valentina, a hand on the metal rail, the white fur coat hanging down her back as it drapes from her elbows, lipstick blood red. She’s drunk, giggling to herself but stops when a vor blocks the final step onto the deck. Then, she sobers, straightening instantly with narrowed eyes.

“Asahi,” she says, voice sharp but breathless.

“The Boss is in a meeting.”

Her makeup had been fixed, the tips of her nose and ears pink from the chill, her hair no longer pinned up but wild down her back from the wind. Tanaka glances at Daichi, his eyes muddy and lips tightly pursed.

“Oh, let her join, huh?” Kuroo grins, setting his glass down and leaning forward to interlock his fingers and rest his elbows on his knees. “Surely, you trust her enough.”

“Of course.”

Daichi and his guest battle in their stares, but ultimately the Panther wins. With a sigh, Daichi calls out to Alexei, “let her through.”

Valentina strides over to the men, coat dragging on the floor behind her. Surprising everyone, she stops in front of the cocky bastard, who stands to greet her, and their cheeks brush twice, left then right.

“Kuroo, how lovely to see you again. I hope my husband is kind.”

Tanaka holds back a wince, the feeling of her warm breath against his neck still teasing him in his memories. He has to admire her acting, even inebriated, she commands attention. Their eyes follow when she walks to the head of the table and flops down onto the chair, slit falling open with crossed legs.

“He’ll be kinder now that you are here.”

Valentina laughs, “yes, but I might not be.”

“Enough.” Daichi cuts through the jovial small talk, fists clenching and resting on his knees, his back straight. “I am tired of games.”

Tanaka thinks he catches a double meaning, heart racing as he readies himself for anything.

“You own Casinos,” Kuroo drawls, but he’s no longer smiling, still standing. Daichi gets to his feet, shorter than his counterpart, but thicker.

“We are getting nowhere. I will not be included in your battle for control, and if my next shipment continues to be held, God is not the only one that can turn water into wine. Capisci?”

Their stares are intense, and seconds tick by in eternity, before Kuroo nods with a sigh, a hand tucking into his pants pocket while the other extrends. They shake, curt and stiff, and Tanaka rolls his shoulders, loosening the knots in his upper back, eyeing Valentina curiously. She has her eyes focused on Daichi, pupils narrow and mouth pressed into a thin line; the same look she had when she boarded the yacht. She snaps out of it, lips curling up as she stands.

“It was a pleasure, although short,” Kuroo tells her, and they exchange polite kisses. Tanaka hears the rumble in Daichi’s chest, and he briefly wonders if she’s purposefully trying to anger the Bulldog. She’s always been unafraid of his bark, a viper teasing with her fangs.

They wait until Kuroo climbs back in the helicopter, until the blades whir to life with that beating drum that pumps adrenaline through his body and until it is quiet once more, the waves sloshing far below against the yacht. The air is crisp, and the silence heavy. Valentina turns to face Daichi, neck tense, mouth open but Daichi cuts her off.

“Don’t embarrass me like that again.”

Tanaka bristles, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He controls the need to step in front of Val, to shield her from his Boss. The weight of her necklace in his pocket keeps him anchored. His heart pounds in his ears, Daichi glances at him briefly before keeping an unwavering eye on Valentina’s fierce gaze. It’s odd. Tanaka always has a plan, knows what will happen next, and yet, he is at a loss. Unsteady on his feet as the boat rocks. He’s unsure of what she will do, how she will tell her possessive husband–

“I’m seeing someone.”

11. Valentina

Lightning flashes in the distance when the words leave your lips, the thunder rumbling in the silence that follows. You watch Daichi carefully, standing your ground even though parts of you scream to take a few steps back. You resist the temptation to glance at Ryunoslav. During your musings, you decided not to say who it was right away. Daichi glances down at your bare neck, the necklace he’d given you missing, lost somewhere at the gala when you finally lost yourself in emotion. You remember the fight with him when leaving the venue.

You expected Daichi to burst in anger, explode outwards and destroy everything with his fury. Yet he remains silent, eyes mattifying as he draws inward, no longer oiled mahogany but rather sanded wood. When he speaks, it’s so low you almost miss it, but it penetrates you with the next flash of lightning.

“Leave.”

White, hot anger burns through you at his command, your hands raising as though to grab his lapel. Quickly, you reroute to pulling your fur coat back onto your shoulders.

“You don’t want to know who?”

“You don’t want to know what I am thinking right now, Gadyuka.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Ryunoslav cuts you off, “take the boat, please.”

You stare incredulously at him, but he is already speaking in a low voice onto a handheld receiver, then back at Daichi, who’s body slowly begins to vibrate. However, Daichi is no longer looking at you. Instead, his eyes have shifted to Ryu, brows furrowed. Thunder claps. You feel the first spray of rain misting onto your eyelashes.

“Fine, we will talk more at breakfast.”

You turn on your heel, the sound grating against the wooden deck, and someone from the Brigade accompanies you down the stairs, walking just slightly ahead of you, silently asking you to follow.

You descend slowly, crossing the second deck with a practised smile, apologising to anyone that approaches you with an easy lie. Most of the crewmen begin to pack up and rearrange the party to continue on indoors. You enter the large cabin, and walk down another flight of stairs, to the first deck and then lower still. Here, the walls change from luxurious wooden, glass and metal to open beams, and white gritty flooring. It’s slightly wet, from the rain that batters against the open exit and the ocean water shimmering inside.

A small speedboat waits for you, not fully submerged, and a captain, yet his face is wary.

“Mrs. Sawamurova,” he holds his hat in his hands, a navy raincoat wrapped around his uniform, “wouldn’t you rather wait for the storm to pass? Please, enjoy the evening and when the water is still, I can take you to shore in an instant.”

“My husband wants me gone.”

“But not dead.”

You laugh, bitterly, feeling your intestines swirl, unsettled by those words. He’s brave.

“How long do you think it will take?”

“A few minutes, maximum. It is the winter rain, harsh but quick.”

“I will wait here.”

12. Tanaka

When the top of Valentina’s head disappears down the stairs, Daichi speaks, not looking at Tanaka. The first of fat raindrops begin to fall onto their shoulders.

“I will have to talk to her father, after I kill her.”

Tanaka’s tongue is heavy in his mouth, every bump dry and scratching against his throat. He can’t be serious. Slowly, Daichi turns to face him, eyes raking over his closest subordinate’s features, down his throat, and settles on the crisp white collar peeking out from his suit jacket, stained the same colour as Valentina’s lipstick.

“Khazak, who is it?”

“Boss–” but he doesn’t know what to say. The memories of the prison hospital bed, bare with just a sheet, an unsterilised IV drip stuck into his arm flashes in front of his mind. Daichi’s calm face that visited him before he woke up somewhere else.

“Tell me right now, or does your loyalty mean nothing?”

Tanaka winces, “nyet, Boss, you know I am loyal to you.”

He takes a deep breath, then reaches inside, fingers looping around diamonds to pull out the necklace, the viper head swaying back and forth. His heart claps with the thunder, the clouds breaking into a heavy downpour. Chill sets in instantly, his bones freezing beneath his suit.

“Supply snakes with a meal, and you will have them all by the fangs,” Daichi whispers under his breath, barely audible above the pattering of the drops against the floor, but Tanaka’s sensitive ears pick it up. “She played me for a fool.” Daichi’s wide-set eyes lift from the necklace to Tanaka’s.

“Mne ochyn zhal,” Tanaka begins to apologise profusely, but the hardened look shuts him up.

“I was wrong, Khazak,” Daichi interrupts, his hands moving to his pockets, Tanaka dropping his arm to his side. He starts to walk towards the sheltered area of the deck, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. “You are the one that is going to have to kill her.”

Tanaka’s heart drops to his stomach, falling straight into the floor and sinking to the bottom of the unruly ocean. The Boss does not joke around, but he wishes for it to be one.

“I can not, Boss,” his head shakes, body vibrates. This is the first time he has ever refused an order from Daichi. The Bulldog watches with raised eyebrows, the question evident on his face.

“I am in love with her.”

The bark that erupts from Daichi’s throat echoes above the rain, above the thunder, and shatters inside Tanaka’s heart. He holds the cigarette to his lips, and Tanaka feels the rain drip down the rivulets of his shaved hair and under the collar of his suit and shirt. There’s a flicker of orange as the Marlboro tip glows.

“And you think she loves you back? Valentina is a snake, a woman. They know only two things: how to lie and how to fuck. You have fucked her, da? It’s magnificent. Was she the second whore of that weekend? Or was she first as well? How long have you been fucking my wife, Ryunoslav?”

Tanaka wants to answer, but it catches in his throat. His tongue refuses to mould the shapes, his lungs refuse to exhale the sound. Daichi sighs.

“It does not matter. Only one thing matters. Come.”

Tanaka walks towards Daichi, each step kicking water down his shoes, his socks wet. He’s never felt more like the ocean than now, swallowed by the rain, drowning. He stops when he stands under the partition, Daichi’s large hands cupping themselves under Tanaka’s chin to lift his head slightly, wiping the rain from his skin, the gold rings cold against his jaw. There may have been tears but Tanaka can’t tell, numb and expectant of Daichi’s next words,

“Tell me, do you love her more than me?”

Cigarette smoke tickles Tanaka’s nose, and he holds his breath. Without him, Tanaka would be dead. Daichi knows this, Tanaka knows this.

“I owe you my life, Pakhan.”

“Now, you owe me a life. I am not without mercy. You have been the closest brother to me. You have tasted the sweet fruit of sin, I can not blame you. You know I have done it too. But I am expected to sleep with someone else. She has embarrassed me. I can not have that. A Boss that can not keep his woman in line? No one will respect me, her own father will not respect me.”

Tanaka remembers the conversation in the banya, the plans to take over completely, the poor health Valentina’s old man is in.

“Are you loyal, or are you just another predatel, scum like the men you erase from existence?”

The storm in Tanaka’s eyes swirl around, clashing against the hard forest floor of Daichi’s. He is loyal. Strangely, in this moment, he remembers the lilies of his home, and their sweet, comforting fragrance, his mother making dinner, and his sister who ran with him to their new life before separating. The pain of losing her no longer stabs at him, maybe this pain someday will not either.

13. Valentina

The room is white and grey, the smell of oil and rubber and metal and salt clinging to the air, to your skin. All the alcohol consumed over the evening seeps from your pores, creating a pounding in your head. You begin to wonder if it was ever a good idea to tell Daichi. You wonder what happened when you left, and you wonder where your necklace is. Your fingers brush over your sternum, feeling the ghost of the viper head and of Tanaka’s mouth.

You taptaptap your toes against the floor, the rain echoing in time, the water drawing in and out rhythmically as you wait for the storm to pass. Only a few minutes, you were told.

“Few minutes, my ass.”

The walkie-talkie connected to the captain’s hip shocks to life, and broken Russian floats up, but you can’t make out the words. He answers, smiles at you, “please, wait here. I will be back soon.”

Then, he leaves, and you’re left alone with the brat that accompanied you. He sighs heavily, as though the inconvenience to him is all your doing, and you glare.

“Is there a problem, soldier?” you ask, standing straight, arms crossed in front of your chest. They seem to forget, Daichi married into your family, not the other way around.

“Nyet, Gadyuka, prosti,” he apologises quickly.

Silence settles over the hull again, claustrophobia leaching into your veins. If you look out at the open hatch, you can see inky blackness, and far in the distance, the faint yellow lights of Monte Carlo. You are about to ask for some water when footsteps echo against the metal walls, a familiar gait.

“Leave us, pazolvste.”

Ryunoslav says to his subordinate, who swiftly salutes him and walks up the stairs. The door at the top clicks shut. You’re speechless, and he is sopping wet.

“Ryu,” you whisper, walking towards him and draping your arms around his shoulders, uncaring at the feeling of water pressing into the fabric of your dress, dripping between the open gap of your breasts. He’s stiff when you touch him, but soon melts, nose nuzzling into your neck and breathing deeply. He still smells like crisp apple and fresh seawater.

“Why are you here?”

“Daichi knows.”

You’ve never felt colder, warmer, like a fever and frostbite all at once. You feel him rustle against your bodies, and you let go to watch him pull the Bulgari necklace out, lifting your hand to place it in your palm. Your fingers close around the jewels automatically.

“I told him I love you.”

There are no words that come to your mind in that instant. Emotions, many. Relief, nausea, stillness and rage, love for the man in front of you. You ache to feel his warm, corded muscles against your skin. He looks pained, eyes tormented as he looks into your soul.

“How did he react?”

“Not well.”

“And?”

He gives no space for continuation, pulling you tightly against his body, arms snaking around your waist as his lips fall against your mouth. His skin is cool, wet, pressing to your heated cheeks, but his mouth is inviting. There is passion unlike what you’ve experienced before. It tastes like freedom, like a new day and endless night. It’s the smoke on the fire, and the salt of the sea. He’s crying, you realise, and you open your mouth to lick up a tear on the corner of his mouth.

The necklace slips from your fingers when you grab him, pushing the jacket of his suit from his shoulders to drop to the already wet floor. There’s a faint crunch, but neither one of you pull away to look at the crushed jewel beneath your heel. It’s just so right to kiss him. In this moment, the world falls away and it’s just the two of you. His taste fills you with a feeling that rivals being whole, satiated. Something hard pokes against your hip, and you smile into the kiss, lips moving to his jaw to suck on an earlobe.

But you freeze. Daichi is at the top of the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” Ryunoslav whispers.

You frown, his words not registering and when you pull back to ask what is happening, he ensnares another kiss from you, tears flowing freely, something hard, cold, now presses against your temple and–

End.

-----

Thank you for reading, truly. This fic honestly has so much of my heart and soul in it. I had so much fun writing it. I hope you’re not too mad about the ending lmao.

@dee-madwriter , @pleasantanathema , @lookslikeleese , @linestrider , @hisoknen , @mindninjax , @whats-her-quirk , @messwriting

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victuuri-skates · 3 years

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If forced to choose, Yuuri would say that stolen moments with Victor were his favorite ― sleepy kisses on the train ride home, collapsing on the bed and drenching the sheets in sweat after their morning runs, making pirozhki together on snowy afternoons, their hands somehow always managing to find each other during the night.

There was something to be said about the quietness of being loved.

Growing up, Yuuri had expected love to come in a great tidal wave, its power relentless and all-consuming. That’s what Mari had told him, anyway, when she had begun dating her first girlfriend at the age of thirteen. Yuuri had taken this knowledge and stowed it away, waiting for the moment that he felt that first rush of love.

So, when Victor had dominated the skating world as a child prodigy, it only made sense that Yuuri had made the connection, wasting no time in running out to purchase every poster he could get his hands on. There was something about watching Victor skate that made him feel raw inside, as though his body couldn’t take the longing.

Now, though, Yuuri knew better. Falling in love with Victor ― the real Victor, not the one from his posters or the televised press conferences ― hadn’t been a grand, flip-of-the-switch moment where everything had suddenly changed. Instead, it had been a deep, quiet tugging in the pit of his stomach, drawing them silently together.

As months passed and Victor continued to coach him, he decided that he preferred the quiet; the unremarkable moments where nothing particularly splendid happened were a steady, constant, irrevocable reminder that he was loved, through and through.

Yuuri let out a heavy sigh, watching as pale afternoon light reflected off of the gold band that sat on his right hand. Next to him, Victor was snuggled under the three duvets that layered their bed, his icy feet pressed up against Yuuri’s exposed calves.

It had been a month since the Grand Prix final, and while Yuuri was relieved that he’d made it to the podium, he’d somehow managed to return to St. Petersburg from Barcelona with more questions than answers.

Namely, their matching rings.

Yuuri hadn’t necessarily intended for the rings to symbolize an engagement; if anything, he had been looking for a way to promise Victor all the things he couldn’t work up the courage to say aloud. However, once Victor had publicly announced that they were to be married after Yuuri won gold, he was no longer entirely sure what the rings meant, and the topic hadn’t been brought up since.

“You’re quiet,” Victor murmured, poking him in the side.

Yuuri shifted to face Victor, pulling the covers up to below his chin as he stared at him. His face was achingly familiar, his bright eyes and lopsided smile feeling more like home than anywhere else.

“You’re making me nervous, zolotse.”

Yuuri shook his head as he intertwined their hands, squeezing them for reassurance. “No, you don’t need to be nervous. I guess I just have a question that I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Yuuri swallowed thickly, trying desperately to ignore the violent whirlwind of nerves in his stomach. “Did you mean what you said in Barcelona? About getting married?”

“I thought that it was obvious,” Victor said, his eyes softening. “Of course I did ― although only if that’s what you want.”

“I do,” Yuuri said. “But what about gold? I didn’t win it this time around, and there’s no guaranteeing that I’ll win it at this year’s final.”

“Oh, zolotse,” Victor murmured, “that was just to intimidate the other skaters. You could never place again, and I’d still marry you in a heartbeat. You’re my everything, Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiled softly at him. “And you’re mine.”

The room grew still as snow began to fall outside, and it was in this quiet moment that Yuuri found peace.

#don't mind me dumping this here #i've been up since 2 am and needed some fluff #victuuri #victor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #victor x yuuri #yuuri x victor #victuuri fanfiction #victuuri ficlet #victuuri fluff #yoi #yuri on ice #fay writes

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houseisekai · 3 years

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House Isekai: Shadowbringers Act 2, Part 3 - Crossroads

House Isekai Shadowbringers AU Masterlist Here

—

Lahabrea, the Blue Lions, Black Eagles, Ashen Wolves, and House Isekai have finally arrived at Derdriu, awaiting the Golden Deer and the Investigation Team.

Only now does Lahabrea give them the answers they have been waiting for, and the war to finish before time runs out...

[No Greater Sorrow - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

Byleth slowly opened his eyes, the light from the windows blinding him.

(Byleth) “Where in the hell...?”

(Minato’s voice) “Oh hey, you’re awake.”

Byleth turned to his side and saw several of the Persona Users in the beds next to him.

(Minako) “Oh, thank god you’re alright!”

(Akira) “Hey, Byleth.”

He slowly sat upright on his bed, reaching for his head.

(Byleth) “Where are we?”

(Mitsuru) “We’re in Derdriu. The journey took a day or two but now we’re just waiting for Claude to arrive in order to discuss our next course of action.”

(Byleth) “And where is everyone else?...Actually, why are you all in the Infirmary with me?”

(Ryuji) “Those voices or whatever is effin’ with our heads. We almost passed out but we seemed to see the same thing...Some kinda tower?”

(Junpei) “That Lahabrea guy better have some answers, I’m sick of being left in the dark.”

(Byleth) “...You may not like what you’ll hear.”

(Minako) “Did he tell you what was happening?”

Byleth hesitated at first, but he responded with a nod.

(Akechi) “That’s just damn great...”

(Akira) “We should probably let the others know you’re alright.”

The Persona users got up and left, though a few stayed behind.

(Minako) “Um...i-it’s good seeing you again, Byleth.”

(Minato) “It’s probably the best news we’ve gotten in a while.”

(Akira) “We’ll see you outside.”

(Byleth) “...Thanks.”

Byleth couldn’t look them in the eye as they spoke. He wasn’t sure he could look at anyone, making him anxious to face House Isekai again.

...

(Claude) “Home sweet home.”

The Golden Deer and Investigation Team finally arrived back in Derdriu, and walked over the hill to the gate.

(Percy) “Milord!”

(Claude) “Hey, Percy. Open the gates for us?”

(Percy) “Of course. You’ll be pleased to know your guests have arrived just last night.”

(Claude) “Go on ahead without me, I’ll be telling the guards to prepare for the worst.”

Everyone nodded and did as he asked.

...

Doomguy and the Ashen Wolves strolled around town due to the lack of having anything better to do.

(Balthus) “Man, anything would be better than just calmly waiting for the Church or Those Who Slither to get a drop on us.”

(Yuri) “Patience big guy. We can’t afford to go hunting when we don’t even know what the hell’s going on. Our time for fighting will come soon enough.”

(Constance) “And what a fantastic time it will be! Fodlan’s fate will be back where it belongs, us!”

(Hapi) “Well we also gotta worry about what the three nations will do after this without Teary and the others keeping them in check. Am I right?”

Hapi turned to Doomguy for at least a nod or shrug. She got neither as he stared to their side.

(Doomguy) “...”

(Hapi) “Hey, Teary, everything alright?”

Doomguy frowned. He thought he saw something move out of their field of vision.

He would have left it alone, but knowing their situation...

Doomguy held up a hand and brought out his shotgun, motioning the Ashen Wolves to head back to the building.

(Yuri) “That’s...discouraging.”

(Hapi) “We should get back to the others.”

They nodded and broke out into a light jog.

...

Byleth staggered out the door of the infirmary to see a few familiar faces.

(Sharon) “Master Byleth, it is good to see you.”

(Cocytus) “WELCOME BACK.”

(Sara) “Jeez, about time.”

(Towa) “Instructor!”

(Angelica) “Yo.”

(Megumi) “Thank goodness you’re awake.”

(Sitri) “Byleth...”

(Byleth) “Thanks. Where is everyone?”

(Sara) “Doomguy went out with the Ashen Wolves to just take a look around the city while the others are here and there in the building.”

(Byleth) “And Lahabrea?”

(Angelica) “In a room upstairs, alone. He said not to call him until Claude was here.”

Knock knock!

(Yu) “Hello? It’s the In-...!!! Oh!”

(Towa) “Yu!”

The rest of the Investigation Team and Golden Deer came through the door.

(Hilda) “Well, well!”

(Yosuke) “Hoho MAN, you guys are a sight for sore eyes!”

Yu took Byleth’s hand and shook it firmly.

(Yu) “Good to see you again, sir.”

(Byleth) “Likewise. Sorry it took so long.”

(Leonie) “Better late than never!”

The other staff smiled as they caught up with the Investigation Team.

(Megumi) “Yuki and the others will be so happy to see you again!”

(Cocytus) “SO, WE HAVE EVERYONE TOGETHER ONCE AGAIN. WHERE IS CLAUDE?”

The door opened once again as if on cue.

(Claude) “Kept ya waiting long?”

He smiled as the rest of House Isekai started to come down the stairs, followed by the Blue Lions and Black Eagles.

(Dimitri) “Claude!”

(Edelgard) “For once, I am relieved to see you.”

(Claude) “Jeez, you’re gonna make a guy blush with compliments like that.”

(Yu) “Long time no see everyone.”

(Yuuri) “YOU GUYS ARE OKAY!”

(Rean) “Hah, I don’t think we had to doubt that, Yuki.”

(Akira) “You guys are more stubborn than us.”

(Minato) “Hey.”

(Minako) “House Isekai is all here again!”

(Ainz) “Unfortunate that we cannot celebrate...”

He examined the room and did a mental head count.

(Claude) “All that’s left should be...”

(Yuri) “That would be us.”

The Ashen Wolves and Doomguy showed up behind Claude, waving.

This was the first time Sitri had seen everyone together like this. It made her smile, knowing how big the family taking care of Byleth was.

(Sitri) “The gang’s all here now.”

(Lahabrea’s voice) “So it would seem.”

[Tears in the Rain - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers]

Everyone looked up the stairs to see Lahabrea leaning against a wall, with Sothis floating beside him.

(Sothis) “Well, you all wanted answers? We’ll give them to you.”

Lahabrea nodded and looked at everyone. Part of him wanted to smile, seeing everyone united like this.

But they were far from being in a happy mood.

(Kazuma) “First of all, just who the fuck are you? You know our past and have your own Sothis, yet we only know our Byleth!”

(Lahabrea) “My name is Byleth Eisner. I am the real one. The real one you’ve seen in all those flashes when your voices echo in your heads.”

(Minako) “That would explain why it feels so real but...We’ve always known our Byleth to be the real one, what makes you so different?”

(Sothis) “Those voices are your past memories. With us two. Up until just this time, you had always been with us everytime you appeared-”

(Aqua) “Woah woah woah, hang on! We’ve only been here once, what are you going on about ‘everytime we appeared’?”

(Lahabrea) “Some of you are aware of the ‘Divine Pulse’ ability, right?”

(Emma) “That time reversal that Sothis and Byleth do?”

Lahabrea nodded. Most of House Isekai looked confused but those who weren’t affected by it could follow.

(Lahabrea) “You all first arrived individually. First it was only Kazuma’s group. We went through 6 years of hell together, and when the war was finished, we were sent back right to the beginning, when Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard arrived to Remire Village. Then taking Kazuma’s place at the next loop was Class VII, and so on. Time forcefully resets everytime you go home...and I cannot begin to fathom why.”

(Yu) “So, how is Sothis here? If that’s the case, every loop Sothis would have fused with you, right?”

(Sothis) “It’s because I fused with him that I am here right now. I was not truly gone the first time we fused, but it seems whatever force is at work keeps bringing me back.”

(Lahabrea) “And it was during the final loop we did, we reset time ourselves using the Tower at Zanado.”

(Rean) “But, there wasn’t a tower when we were there.”

(Akira) “No I...I think there was?”

Yu turned to Akira.

(Yu) “Was it half made out of what looked like stone and scifi tech?”

(Minako) “Yeah actually, how did you?-”

(Claude) “We confirmed the tower’s presence ourselves. Had a nice visit in it too...”

(Yuuri) “Um, what actually is that tower?”

(Lahabrea) “For now, it’s best to hear it yourselves. Honestly, not even we understand it.”

Lahabrea pulled out a crystal and it began its playback.

“I don’t know if anyone will be seeing this message, whether that be myself or anyone else who comes into this godforsaken tower but…My name is Byleth Eisner. Son of Jeralt Eisner.”

...

Everyone listened to the entire message, and when it finished, most of them were left in a state of shock.

(Lahabrea) “Since you went into the Tower, I can only assume you saw the skies turn a pale white?”

(Claude) “Something like that. Even in Inaba it followed.”

(Miki) “Inaba? As in-”

(Yu) “Our town, yes. We were wanting to say that tower in Zanado started showed up and is releasing shadows onto the real world.”

The Persona Users turned pale.

(Yukari) “S-Shadows are loose right now in all of our homes?!”

(Lahabrea) “So far, just the Persona User’s worlds. But that won’t be for long. Which brings us to why we have you all gathered under a single banner.”

(Sothis) “You all were NEVER meant to be here. At all. Whatever our previous selves did, it caused a catastrophic rip in reality, at least that’s what we’re guessing.”

(Lahabrea) “And we only made it worse by using Divine Pulse ourselves. It’s why House Isekai exists.”

(Megumi) “S-So...our existence here was a mistake?”

It pained Lahabrea to do so, but he nodded.

(Lahabrea) “Yes. And since you all have been here for so long, it’s now starting to affect your worlds.”

The crystal Lahabrea was holding quickly shifted into a reflection that displayed Tokyo, Tatsumi Port Island, and Inaba, the tower being the most noticeable thing in the reflection.

(Lahabrea) “The longer you are here, the worse this effect will become. Our worlds are merging. All of ours.”

(Naoto) “That...makes sense! It’s why Dojima was able to understand Claude and the others!”

Now, it was the School-Living Club’s turn to feel sick.

(Kurumi) “Then...that means...?!”

(Yuuri) “The infection...!”

(Lahabrea) “Will be in Fodlan, yes.”

(Miki) “W-What can we do to stop it?!”

(Sothis) “We honestly don’t know. Our plan right now is to stop whatever remnants of the world we destroyed. Those Who Slither and the Church has technology from that time, and is whats making them able to wage this war.”

Sara turned to Byleth.

(Sara) “...So where’s our Byleth come into this? He’s been quiet this entire time.”

Byleth looked away.

(Lahabrea) “...You saw the Angels at Enbarr. What their infection does to people. It’s affecting Byleth as well.”

(Everyone) !!!

(Sitri) “T-Then that means?!”

(Byleth) “I’m slowly turning into an Angel....”

(Lahabrea) “I’ve done what I can to delay the process, but its why Byleth is able to permanently kill Inquisitors. But...”

(Byleth) “So far we haven’t been able to find a cure. I will die if it is not found.”

(Megumi) “WHAT?!”

(Lahabrea) “Which is why we need to strike now. If we can stop Those who Slither and the Church before his transformation and our worlds merge.”

Yuri frowned as the light from the window blinded him.

(Yuri) “Looks like we’ll get that chance faster than you think.”

[Will and Reason - Tales of Berseria OST]

Cyril and Alois walked towards the gate as the skies turned into a pale white, soldiers rushing to the gate.

(Percy) “Hey, what’s the meaning of this?! You are not authorized to be in Alliance territory-”

(Cyril) “By order of Lady Rhea, we are to execute the Warrior of Darkness! Any resistance will be met with force, do not interfere!”

The church soldiers kicked open the gates and stormed Derdriu, surrounding all exits.

(Alois) “If we do see him...let me speak first, Cyril.”

(Cyril) “Fine. Make it quick if you are able.”

Everyone looked out the window, grabbing their weapons.

(Claude) “Get Judith and the rest of our forces ready. I don’t think I can talk my way out this one.”

(Edelgard) “I don’t think there’s much point hiding your involvement with us. Perhaps if the three of our forces went out and confronted them, we could buy some time.”

(Yu) “That could work.”

(Rean) “Whatever we’re doing, just make it fast!”

(Claude) “Edelgard, let’s go with yours. Just follow my lead though.”

Dimitri and Edelgard nodded. House Isekai and the Ashen Wolves snuck further into the building as the three classes marched out the building.

(Cyril) “Claude von Riegan.”

(Claude) “Hey, Cyril, Alois. Been a hot minute since we saw each other, yeah? I take it you got promoted to Inquisitors-”

(Alois) “Where is Byleth?”

(Claude) “...Byleth? What makes you think he’d be here-”

(Cyril) “DO YOU THINK US FOOLS?! WHERE IS HE?!”

Dimitri and Edelgard looked to their sides to see soldiers closing in on them, weapons drawn.

Hubert held up a hand to not retaliate just yet.

(Alois) “Lord Dimitri, Emperor Edelgard...I was under the impression you were fighting one another.”

(Claude) “They are here in neutral territory to call a truce, so to speak.”

(Alois) “...And I was also under the impression that his highness was kidnapped by members of House Isekai. Clearly I was mistaken.”

Cyril frowned and grabbed his weapon.

(Cyril) “You are aware of what the Church’s sentence is for treason, correct?”

(Claude) “Sure am.”

No one made a move, both sides were waiting to see what would happen first.

(Alois) !? “What in the...?”

Edelgard noticed a bright light coming from her and realized a blue flame surrounded her and the other Black Eagles members.

Before they knew it, their clothes transformed, all the members wearing a mask and costume.

Edelgard was now in her Flame Emperor outfit, with the bottom half of her mask gone.

(Dedue) “Isn’t that just like...?”

(Hilda) “Akira?!”

(Cyril) “The Phantom Thieves?!”

(Edelgard) “Well, I guess that’s as good as a cue as any-”

[Tempest of Seasons (Rain) - Fire Emblem: Three Houses OST]

Edelgard unsheathed Aymr and swung it at the two, causing the debris beneath them to explode.

Everyone else followed suit and began their assault as Alois and Cyril barely dodged Edelgard’s attack.

Before any of the Church knights could respond, many of them were picked off by the gun wielders of House Isekai, who drove them further up the street.

Alliance Soldiers intercepted them and attacked with swords and bows, leaving Alois and Cyril to the classes.

Claude fired an arrow at Cyril, but was deflected by Alois’s siheld.

Dimitri and Edelgard charged in and tried to attack from the sides, but Cyril blocked Dimitri as his wyvern swooped in and knocked back Edelgard.

Hubert snapped his fingers and a massive black fireball fired from his tome and blew up a group of knights, as Dedue and Hilda crushed ones that came too close into the floor.

Another group of church knights came around the corner and were about to charge before being blasted into the wall by a light spell.

One of them tried to get back up before his leg suddenly in the opposite direction, making him fall over as blood burst out of his throat.

Kazuma became visible, taking his knife out the Church Knight as he turned behind him.

(Kazuma) “DARKNESS!”

Darkness charged in and swung her sword at the knocked down soldiers, hitting the pillar nearby, making it tip over and crush them.

(Darkness) “Wha-BUT I HIT THEM!”

(Kazuma) “Fuck it, doesn’t matter, keep going!”

Aqua and Megumin followed behind Kazuma and Darkness, causing mayhem for the Knights.

Several Alliance soldiers were outmatched by the Church knights, injured on the floor about to be killed.

Only a few of them were able to be saved as Lorenz, Lysithea, Caspar, and Sylvain killed the knights attacking them.

Lorenz and Lysithea opened their tomes and fired several Thorons, piercing through their helmets and blasting their heads off. Their bodies quickly dissolved into white dust, with Caspar punching a hole through a knight and Sylvain ran over one with his horse.

(Caspar) “Hey, we need a medic over here!”

Mercedes, Linhardt, and Marianne ran over and began to heal the soldiers they could as the others ran in from behind.

Linhardt raised his head and saw a few of the group running on top of the walls surrounding the city.

The Denizens of Nazarick, Class VII, and the Phantom Thieves looked around them to see the fighting continued on the outside, the advantage being on the Knights’ side.

(Ainz) “We cannot afford to retreat and lose the only city where we have refuge! Do whatever it takes!”

(Albedo) “Yes, Lord Ainz!”

Ainz began giving directions to the rest of his group as they ran, giving himself and two others a necklace of flight.

(Ainz) “Cocytus, Pandora’s Actor, with me, we go after any reinforcements that may be on their way!”

They flew off far past the main gate, leaving the Phantom Thieves and Class VII on the walls.

(Elliot) “L-Look, some of the knights made it to the walls!”

(Rean) “Class VII, take them out!”

(Sara) “They’re only monsters now, so aim to kill!”

(Class VII) “Yeah!” “Got it!” “Understood.”

(Akira) “Leave closing the gates to us. Joker, out.”

He winked at Rean and gracefully leapt off the walls and onto the roofs, the Phantom Thieves using their Personas to get around.

Lahabrea and Byleth saw the Phantom Thieves hop over their head as they looked at the battle.

(Lahabrea) “You know the deal. Captains first, then get away before you’re spotted. No witnesses.”

Byleth nodded as they moved across the shadows, though Byleth couldn’t help but take a second to glance at the group near them.

The Ashen Wolves and School-Living Club, and Sitri were helping the civilians evacuate as S.E.E.S, the Investigation Team and Doomguy protected them from incoming knights.

(Kanji) “How do these assholes even have these many soldiers?!”

(Akihiko) “The fight they’re putting up is a lot fiercer than 5 years ago!”

Their personas killed the knights with ease, though with everyone they got rid of, five more seemed to take his place.

The School-Living Club felt out of their element here as arrows whizzed by everyone's’ head, but still they persevered.

(Megumi) “Get to the main capital building, you’ll be safe there!”

Kurumi did what she could to slow down any of the knights with her shovel by getting the jump on them, but she could already feel eyes on her. Her luck wouldn’t last forever.

(Yuuri) “P-Please keep your head down and move to that building over there, we’ll protect you!”

(Woman) “T-Thank you dear!”

(Hapi) “Shut up and get moving.”

The woman nodded and did as she was told.

Yuuri and Miki were the farthest from the group, helping out a child who was hiding underneath the carriage.

(Miki) “No knights are around right now, you have to get moving!”

(Yuki) “We’ll protect you, take my hand!”

The child nodded and took Yuki’s hand. Once he was out, his eyes went wide as he pointed behind them.

(Child) “W-WATCH OUT!”

Yuki and Miki turned around to see several figures in black fire a spell at them.

They were too slow to react and took the hit directly, sending them flying back into the carriage.

Megumi got distracted when she saw what happened to them, causing her to panic.

Megumi ran over to the two, grabbing a nearby board to attack the hooded figures before she stopped moving entirely, feeling something go through her stomach.

(Sitri) “MEGUMI!”

[Those Who Sow Darkness - Fire Emblem: Three Houses OST]

An Agarthan took the dagger out of her as he filled the gap with some dark magic, causing her to scream in pain.

Doomguy spun around at the noise and saw what was happening and immediately jumped into action.

(Yu) “Huh?- NO!”

(Minako) “Where did they-?!”

(Minato) “GOD DAMN IT!”

(Yuri) “BEHIND US, AGARTHANS!”

Doomguy cleaved the Agarthan in half with his wrist blade and threw his body at the mages who were getting close to Yuki and Miki, about to do the same thing to Megumi.

The Persona Users began engaging the ones who weren’t hit as the Knights backed off.

(Alois) “Those who Slither as well?!”

(Cyril) “Tch, the heretics developing the powers of House Isekai?! We have to go back and warn Lady Rhea, KNIGHTS, RETREAT, WE ARE OUTMATCHED!”

The knights immediately began to pull back. Alois sighed, hoping to see Byleth, but held his tongue and followed orders.

The skies turned back to a normal color as the Church withdrew, though it was far from good news.

Doomguy ran over and grabbed Yuki and Miki and set them next to Megumi.

(Yuuri) “No no no no!”

(Kurumi) “W-What’s happening, how did they get behind us?!”

(Sitri) “Is she alright?!”

Doomguy didn’t respond as he immediately began scanning the three for injuries.

For Yuki and Miki, it appeared worse than it actually was, the worst being a few burn marks, but for Megumi...

Something was spreading throughout her body, but it didn’t look like anything he’s seen.

Everyone stopped fighting when they saw the knights pull back and saw the Agarthans teleport in.

(Agarthan) “There you all are...Saves us the trouble of hunting you down individually.”

The Agarthans went to the dead and raised their hand to them, deploying a black fog that went into the bodies that made them shake violently, dissolving into a black goo as their essence went to the center where Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude was.

(Agarthan) “I see the Church has their own version of our spell. Interesting, but inferior. Honestly, we have no idea how they got their hands on this, but thank you for bringing it to our attention.”

He began laughing as all the black substance was forming into a colossal shape behind him, even ones from outside the gate were getting in.

Some bits and pieces were left off from bodies that were too far, and began rising from the dead.

(Kurumi) “Not again!”

Kurumi raised her shovel and attacked one of the creatures by dislodging the shovel’s head into its neck.

The creature’s neck twisted 180 to face Kurumi, making her back off.

Doomguy gave Kurumi a pistol as he cocked his shotgun and blew the creature into pieces.

They looked around them and they were starting to get surrounded.

(Kurumi) “Do your thing, I got us covered!”

Doomguy nodded and began rip and tearing into the creatures, leaving Kurumi and Yuuri to deal with the stragglers. Yuuri grabbed Kurumi’s shovel while Sitri grabbed a sword on the floor.

She had no idea how to use it, but that wouldn’t stop her.

The Persona Users and Ashen Wolves were too busy trying to evacuate the citizens and were holding off the stragglers on their own as well.

Megumi slowly opened her eyes and saw what was going on. There was no way anyone could spare the help in time before they got overrun.

(Megumi) I have to...!

She got up, though every fiber of her body was in utter pain doing so.

(Megumi) “Kurumi....h-hand me the pistol.”

(Kurumi) “What?! But-”

(Megumi) “It’s...not, a request!”

She grabbed her and Yuuri’s shoulders.

(Megumi) “Get Miki and Yuki out of here, now...! Sitri, watch over them for me?”

(Sitri) “Y-Yes.”

They reluctantly nodded and did as she told. As they ran, a few of them tried to chase them before Megumi caught the creatures attention by blasting their heads off.

(Megumi) “Everyone...please, be safe...”

Clenching her teeth in pain, she thanked Doomguy for having a pistol that didn’t have to reload as she gave cover fire to her students.

...

(Dimitri) “YAAAAGH!”

Dimitri stuck his lance into the blob before it could form anything, but when he pulled it out nothing happened.

(Agarthan) “HAH! Your feeble weapons will do nothing to our creation! Accept your fate and die like the dogs you are!”

The blob finally formed into a bipedal monster, it had massive claws on its hands, and spikes on its back. Six eyeballs covered the left and right side of its body and It’s head was something akin to a bull as it used the horns to charge into the fountain, sending the three and concrete into the air.

They landed next to each other, and got up quickly, trying to find any weak spots.

(Claude) “Any plans? Edelgard, you seem to have Akira’s power, can you do that crazy Persona thing?!”

(Edelgard) “N-No, it only affects the clothes, I’m a bit faster and stronger but other than that, nothing!”

(Dimitri) “I have nothing on me!”

The Agarthan continued to laugh until he saw something out of the corner of his eye walk in from the shadows of a building.

[Boss Theme #2 - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

(Byleth) “You’re going to pay for what you did.”

(Agarthan) “T-THE WARRIOR OF DARKNESS?! KILL HIM, KILL HIM NOW!”

Before the Agarthan could do anything, his vision suddenly went flying into the air, and as it landed, he could see his own body on the rock, headless.

The body fell onto the floor as Lahabrea stepped into view, deactivating the whip function on his sword.

(Lahabrea) “Everyone else is currently dealing with the Agarthans. Big one is left to us, no objections?”

(Byleth) “None at all.”

Byleth and Lahabrea struck as one, going for the legs which only made their weapons bounce off.

Claude fired several arrows at various parts of the body, seeing what would connect.

The arrows that seemed to have any affect were ones shot at the eyes on the body.

Only one arrow pierced through one of the left eyes on its torso as it screamed in pain, and used its massive arms to block the rest.

(Dimitri) “Seems a lot smarter than the one at Enbarr!”

(Edelgard) “Let’s hope its not as stubborn!”

Dimitri and Edelgard charged head on to the bull-like creature, with it charging in response.

Combining their strength, they were barely able to block its charge, driving their feet deep into the concrete, making every muscle in their body burn from the sheer force.

Lahabrea and Byleth hopped onto the arms and plunged their swords into the eye sockets of the head.

It screamed in pain, but didn’t stagger it as much as they were hoping to, in fact it didn’t at all.

The bull rose its head, sending Dimitri and Edelgard into the air as it grabbed Byleth and Lahabrea.

Before it could do anything, Sothis teleported behind the bull and summoned a meteor above it, the meteor smashing it over the head making it drop the two in pain.

Dimitri plunged his lance into the head as he landed, holding on for dear life as it swung violently around trying to get him off.

Edelgard barely managed to catch herself as she landed, trying to figure out how to get close without being crushed.

Claude seized the opportunity and fired arrows into the eyes on the body.

He managed to get three on the right side, but the creature was quick to block the rest.

(Byleth) “DIMITRI, DRIVE IT INTO THE FLOOR!”

Dimitri roared with rage as took out his lance and smashed the bull’s head, the impact of his hit forcing the bull to slam onto the floor.

The eyes blinked with confusion as Edelgard, Lahabrea, and Byleth took out the remaining three eyes, this time making the bull flail violently, its limbs akin to a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Edelgard was hit by the fist and was sent flying into Claude while Byleth and Lahabrea jumped out the way in time.

Dimitri got to its left side, and was about to strike one of the eyes before all five looked at him and a fist almost crushed Dimitri.

He fell onto the floor after narrowingly dodging the attack while Byleth and Lahabrea ran behind him.

The bull covered its left side with both arms, circling around them.

(Lahabrea) “Don’t think we have anything!”

(Byleth) “How about your Sothis?”

(Sothis) “If I did, would’ve done it by now!”

An explosion suddenly struck the side of the bull, making it tumble over and almost fall again before it was pelted by more explosives.

Doomguy came into view with a rocket launcher, firing rapidly into the bull.

The bull was ready to charge into Doomguy before a massive shadow enveloped his own, causing it to look up.

Valimar dropped from the sky and dug its greatsword into the bull’s chest.

(Rean’s voice) “INSTRUCTOR BYLETH!”

Byleth and Lahabrea immediately hopped into action activating the whips and swinging violently at the eyes, carving them into pieces.

Finally, the bull stopped moving as it exploded into black fog, with the other zombie-like creatures that spawned following suit.

They took a deep breath and sheathed their swords at the exact time, in the exact same way. If anyone had any doubt about Lahabrea being Byleth, it was quelled then and there.

(Byleth) “We need to do a head count and check if everyone’s okay-”

(Sitri) “Byleth!”

Sitri ran up to him, with the School-Living Club in tow. The two noticed that Miki and Yuki were hanging onto Yuuri and Kurumi’s arm, the injuries very apparent.

(Lahabrea) “What happened!?”

...

(Aqua) “TURN UNDEAD!”

Another spell blasted apart the creatures, but still more kept coming.

(Kazuma) “HOW MANY FUCKING THINGS OF THESE ARE THERE?!”

(Darkness) “Aqua, how’s your mana looking?!”

(Aqua) “Getting a bit drained here!”

Megumin hit a few back with her staff, looking extremely angry.

(Megumin) “GO AWAY DAMN YOU!”

(Kazuma) “Megumin, we may need you to-”

The creatures suddenly all dropped dead, and faded into a black fog.

(Kazuma) “...Do nothing.”

Everyone took a sigh of relief and looked at the plaza.

(Kazuma) “Let’s see, Valimar and Slayer are there. Pretty safe to assume whatever it was over there is super dead.”

(Darkness) “All the civilians were taken care of correct?”

(Aqua) “Yeah, a good chunk of us saw to that-”

cough cough!

(Megumin) “Heck was that?”

(Kazuma) “That sounded like...”

His heart dropped.

(Kazuma) “Megumi.”

[Yasashii Megu-nee Arigatou - Gakkou Gurashi OST]

The four of them quickly ran to the source of the coughing and saw Megumi laying against the wall, coughing violently as she dropped the pistol onto the floor.

Parts of her dress had holes and blood marks over it. Her blood.

(Megumin) “MEGU-NEE!”

(Darkness) “Aqua!”

Aqua smiled as she put her hand on Megumi’s arm.

(Aqua) “Don’t worry, we’ll have you right as rain!”

A healing spell emitted from her arm, but it had no effect.

(Aqua) “H-Huh? Why can’t I-”

Megumi grabbed Aqua’s arm and smiled, tears running down her face.

(Megumin) “I...don’t think your healing can fix me up this time...”

(Kazuma) “Hey, don’t be playing the hero, you’re way too nice for that shit!-”

Megumi moved her arm to reveal a hole in her stomach. It was then Aqua finally saw what was happening.

The infection was spreading throughout her body. It was some unholy combination of her original infection, the agarthan’s, and a third light-like source she couldn’t identify.

(Darkness) “H-HELP US, OVER HERE! WE NEED A HEALER!”

The rest of House Isekai and the three Houses finally got to the scene and saw what was happening to her.

Sara, Byleth, the School-Living Club, and Sitri ran to her side, while making way for the healers.

(Sara) “Get to helping her already!”

(Byleth) “Do what you can, please!”

First, Marianne, Mercedes, and Linhardt tried using their best healing spell to no effect, then the Persona Users tried.

(Morgana) “Damn it, why isn’t it working?!”

(Yukiko) “T-There’s got to be something we have that can!”

(Yukari) “Can anyone get a sense of how bad the-”

Yukari stopped when she saw Emma tearing up, covering her mouth.

(Kurumi) “H-Hey, Emma! You can see magic crap right, what’s happening to her?!”

(Emma) “She’s...not going to make it.”

(Everyone) !!!

(Miki) “T-THAT CAN’T BE RIGHT! PLEASE, CAN’T SOMEONE DO SOMETHING?!”

(Ainz) “I used magic detection and...there’s nothing we can do. No amount of healing can stop the infection. I...I am sorry.”

Doomguy scanned Megumi with his visor, but it came up as red.

Lahabrea and Sothis looked on with regret in their eyes.

(Yuuri) “Come on, you know something about this right, why aren’t you?!-”

Megumi grabbed Yuuri’s hand and caught everyone’s attention.

(Megumi) “Don’t worry...This was going to happen either way.”

(Yuki) “But, I don’t understand! Why?! We finally got to see you again and-”

The School-Living Club reached for their head as a sharp pain overwhelmed them.

(Megumi) “You all...got along just fine without me before...And I know you can do so again.”

Megumi began coughing up blood as she struggled to keep her eyes free of tears.

Byleth used his cape to wipe them away.

(Megumi) “Thank you...Byleth.”

She barely had the strength to laugh as she looked up into the skies.

(Megumi) “I...I guess whatever was in my body originally hadn’t gone away. It’s...messing with whatever the Agarthan transformation method is, making it way slower, otherwise I would’ve instantly turned...”

Megumi turned to the School-Living Club members first.

(Megumi) “Kurumi, Yuuri, Yuki...It was so good to see you again. Even if it didn’t last long...I’m glad we could be normal for a little bit together at Garreg Mach. And Miki...Thank you for sticking with them, and protecting Yuki...”

Megumi’s skin on her left arm slowly started to turn into a darker color.

She turned to Byleth, Sitri, and Sara.

(Megumi) “Sara, Byleth...Y-You were some of the strangest co-workers I’ve ever had...but I would never trade that time for anything...And Sitri...? It was an honor...being with your son and husband...”

Yuki sobbed the hardest, holding onto Megumi’s arm shaking it.

(Yuki) “NO NO NO! WE’VE ALREADY LOST YOU BEFORE! NOW THAT YOU’RE BACK, YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE AGAIN! IT’S NOT FAIR!”

(Megumi) “I...Think I’m about to...”

She began coughing up blood again, which Byleth wiped away again.

(Megumi) “There’s only one way to stop the infection...Please don’t let them watch.”

Megumi looked at Sara’s pistol.

She closed her eyes and nodded.

(Megumi) “Yuki, Kurumi, Yuuri, Miki...You all will be fine. I promise.”

Sitri had to grab Yuki and pull her away, as she was kicking violently to try and get back to Megumi.

(Yuki) “NO, MEGU-NEE! MEGU-NEEEEE!”

(Yuuri) “Thank you, Megu-nee...”

(Kurumi) “Thank you, again...”

(Miki) “It was nice to finally meet you, Megu-nee...”

The three walked away, unable to watch what was coming, Sitri escorting them as well.

All of Class VII, the Persona Users, and Kazuma’s group had to follow, unable to watch.

The Denizens of Nazarick bowed their heads in respect, and followed Ainz, away from this.

This was a private moment for the ones closest to her.

The only ones who stayed were Towa, Angelica, Cocytus, Sharon, Doomguy, Lahabrea, and Sothis.

Megumi took off her cross necklace and gave it to Byleth.

(Towa) “Instructor Sakura...T-Thank you.”

(Angelica) “...You’re too nice, ya know that? We’re gonna miss you.”

(Cocytus) “IT WAS AN HONOR FIGHTING AT YOUR SIDE.”

(Sharon) “You and your students will be my family as much as the Reinfords...”

(Doomguy) “...Thanks.”

Lahabrea had to close his eyes, alongside Sothis. Sara and Byleth stood up, and she pointed her pistol at Megumi’s head.

(Byleth) “...Goodbye, Megumi.”

(Sara) “...See you the next time around.”

Sara’s hand started to shake, unable to keep a steady aim.

Megumi’s hand held onto Sara’s, Byleth’s hand eventually joining in.

They all closed their eyes, and Byleth helped Sara pull the trigger.

...

BANG!

...

Thud...!

When everyone opened their eyes, they saw light particles coming off Megumi. Her body slowly started to fade away into a light blue dust, disappearing in front of them.

There was no more blood, or signs of rot on her, and the last thing they saw on Megumi’s face was a smile.

Then, she finally disappeared, a quiet shattering noise emitting as her body turned into white and blue dust.

When she was gone, Sara fell to her knees, sobbing, slowly joined in by Towa, Angelica, then Byleth.

Doomguy, Sharon and Cocytus bowed their heads in respect.

Lahabrea started to walk away, tears in his eyes...

[Afterglow - Gakkou Gurashi OST]

Bathed in the red of the sun What were you thinking? Filling your eyelids to the brim with tears You tried to play it off, saying, "It's so pretty".

Without a doubt I always thought that these days Would continue on and on....

The sky we look upon, Is watching us from far, far away Merely silent, without change. Grasping hands as fellow lost ones, We're no longer alone. Looking to the opposite shore of this ending world, We can see our dawn on the horizon,

We can see it We can see it So put on a smile...

TO BE CONTINUED IN:

#House Isekai #House Isekai Shadowbringers #Byleth eisner #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #Edelgard von Hresvelg #Claude von Riegan #sothis #megumi sakura #sitri eisner

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yuuri-nsane · 3 years

Text

Bloom [Part Two]

Fandom: Yuuri On Ice

Ship: Viktuuri [Viktor Nikiforov x Katsuki Yuuri]

T/W: nothing, apart from confused&toogoodforanyone!yuuri and troublesome!viktor - dont forget though, if you read this and feel that there should be a specific warning added for whatever reason, please dont hesitate to reach out!

Summary: Chamberlain Yuuri Katsuki has grown into quite a hard-working young man. He's efficient, really, and surprisingly strong (at least when it comes to hauling ridiculous heaps of laundry, and trapping the likes of royalty within his arms on a whim). Although considerably quiet, irrational and paranoid, one thing's for sure: all he wants to do is see the gorgeous blooming of The Royal Azalea. What happens when someone interrupts his way there, in a partially concerning, and definitely suspicious way?

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three]

a/n: yayyyy!! part two of bLooOoM!!! I had a sudden spout of inspiration and wrote this at 2am last night! awesome, right? :’)

anyway, this chapters quite long actually - a lot longer than the first, so sorry for that. but still, i hope you enjoy! and don't forget, constructive criticism is always welcome! thank you!!

---

"...What do you say?"

Yuuri could only stare at the prince; entranced by his words alone.

Not like he wasn't completely floored by other aspects of The Prince Viktor Nikiforov - considering this was probably the only time he'd held more than a three-word exchange with the man, he could barely believe the circumstance he had somehow found himself in.

It was most definitely a dream.

And Yuuri most definitely prayed to any deity that was willing to listen, that he would wake up.

Any time now.

See, Yuuri was more than horrified that he had not only touched the prince in an unwarranted manner, but that the prince was set on thanking him for it!

His gaze trailed tragically along the extended arm laid out before him (since when had that happened?), as if his majesty had expected for Yuuri to take his hand and ride into the sunset with him in a golden carriage, like a damned princess.

And the chamberlain, quite unfortunately, knew he was anything but.

Yuuri retraces his steps, recalling how exactly he had found himself face to face with the crown prince of Vreosia, who was next in line to take the throne and become king.

---

It had been quite a long day.

And Yuuri was more than ready to fall asleep on the hard, cold, so very cold, floor of the corridors.

For he had insisted for some unknown reason, that he were to cover for Guang-Hong Ji - who had not incidentally, no, purposefully, attended to his own chores in the castle.

For the last three days that is.

How had he not been caught?!

Yuuri couldn't help the small, indignant screech that had echoed the walls of storage room when the launderer had first cornered him, early in the morning, begging for help. Supposedly, he had been sneaking around the castle to meet one of the guards. What was his name, Lenny? Lucas? No, it was...Logan...? Wait! Leo!

Anyway, their schedules had never lined up, so Ji had risked it all for a little rendezvous.

It was basically love at first sight, he had whispered dreamily.

Yuuri couldn't help but roll his eyes at that, and yet a subtle smile graced his lips lovingly.

And because of his golden heart, he had thus agreed to finish up Ji's aborted chores around the castle.

With the condition, of course, that this would never happen again, and Ji would do his own chores from now on.

The launderer had agreed with much reluctance, to which Yuuri had responded with a light sigh and a general 'if you want to see that soldier again, you're going to have to put the work in - and not get into trouble'.

Much to Yuuri's dismay, there was a lot more to do than he had first expected.

He could barely fathom the pile of dirty sheets in the corner of the spare bedroom Ji had ended up secretly leading him to - it was almost as tall as him for goodness' sake!

Not to mention the additional list that his friend had sheepishly handed him: an entire two pages.

If Phichit saw him now, he'd never hear the end of it.

Three days worth of tasks, and Yuuri had exactly one day to do them all.

He was going to die.

And probably by suffocation of laundry.

Luckily, he did not.

He had just managed to sweep the floors of the spare bedroom and change the linen of the bed as dusk so elegantly arrived. Getting rid of the evidence was far too demanding, though Yuuri swallowed his complaints; he would never in a thousand years jeopardise Ji or himself for being caught for something as menial as a failure to do the laundry.

Prior to that, he had laboriously struggled with said laundry, the whole day consisting of his efforts to drag ridiculous masses of extravagant cloths down to the laundry rooms to be washed.

It was laughable, Yuuri concluded, how an entire castle full of at least fifty, had enough riches to provide for them all - and yet it was spent only on such materialistic values, that just the royal family could actually use or even touch.

Yuuri shook his head, he needed to hurry up. He had been planning to make way to the gardens for weeks now - but hadn't had such a chance. Especially with having to tend to Ji's overlooked errands.

The maid sighed as he paced through the halls, away from the bedrooms and further downstairs. The Royal Azalea were rumoured to bloom quite beautifully during the springtime, and as luck would have it, the castle gardens had quite the selection. Though in the three quiet years that he had been working for the royal family, he'd never been able to actually take a look.

Once, Phichit (a very close friend who he had first met when he started working in the castle) had recognised that the Rhododendron Schlippenbachii were quite so extravagant.

Trust Yuuri to avow shamefully that the binomial name of this flower had slipped through one ear of his and out the other.

But to Yuuri's relief, Phichit had also disclosed the more manageable name, albeit excitedly spurting more random facts about the flowers as well, which Yuuri could barely remember.

It was the chamberlain's own fault for becoming friends with someone who specialised in plants, specifically that in the Castle’s herber.

Hurrying slightly, the young man sped almost desperately through the castle - wishing to see the flowers already. He had things to do tomorrow, and God knew that he was too impatient to miss the blooming for the third time in a row.

He continued, carefully watching out for any patrols - as a now usual resident of the castle, and a working maid of so, he was nonchalant. He thought about which route to take, knowing that conveniently, going through the kitchens would be quicker and there would be less a chance of being stopped by guards outside. Yuuri shuddered: he wouldn't know how to explain himself if that happened.

"Oh, I just wanted to see The Royal Azalea in bloom, so I snuck out of the castle after dark! Which violates the rules of the castle, because you probably mistook me for a barbarian or worse! Not like you can get worse than that or something. But either way, that meant having to leave your posts to chase me down! What a waste of time and space!"

Now that he had reflected on it, there was actually nothing to think about.

He headed straight to the cookery.

As he skipped stealthily into the aisle leading to the kitchens, his breath caught. He stiffened. His eyes glued relentlessly to the back of a silhouette that creeped through the large, umber doors and into the kitchens.

A-a thief?

Yuuri shook his head.

No. There was no way a thief could've managed to sneak through the guards. Not with the new recruits...

Then Yuuri painfully remembered, most had little to no training nor experience, for the castle had been suffering a shortage of soldiers for quite some time now. Vreosia had always been a peaceful kingdom, but with new threat now arising from a nearby domain and its ruffians, the royal family had decided to take precautions - blindly, if Yuuri could say so much, taking in as many willing volunteers and making them swear their loyalty over to the Nikiforov's.

The chamberlain winced. He squeezed his eyes and counted slowly.

1...2...

This wasn't his responsibility.

...3...4...

He should just make a run for the maid's quarters; pretend he saw nothing.

...5...6...

He didn't want any trouble.

...7...8...

He was only a maid.

...9...

He'll probably die if he followed them.

10.

Yuuri sighed in frustration. A long and deep exhale gushed out of his nostril and onto the cupid's bow of his lips.

He continued after the mysterious shadow.

In doing so, he slipped through the doors leading into the cookery, and watched discreetly, as the offender passed the island in the middle - their silver hair gleaming in the moonlight that squeezed through the cracks in between hanging cutlery, and from the mighty window beside.

Wait-

-silver hair?

Silver, as in...

Yuuri gasped against his will. He quickly covered his mouth in disbelief, the realisation hitting him square in the face like a brick.

It was Viktor Nikiforov.

No, it was The Viktor Nikiforov.

The Prince Viktor Nikiforov: beloved by the entire kingdom for, well, everything.

Not only was he, for lack of better words, Prince Charming - but he was also the same man who had given Katsuki Yuuri quite a memorable first day at the castle.

With that, Yuuri recollects, the time he had witnessed Prince Nikiforov get absolutely hounded by both the King and his advisor at what was barely sunrise, for sneaking out of boundaries at such a late time.

Yuuri had spent the day being somewhat awkwardly showed around by none other than Phichit and Guang-Hong Ji, as well the the Steward; Georgi Popovich.

And funnily enough, the day didn't exactly end there.

He giggles, barely audible, as he remembers the way the entire castle had been awoken by Yakov's uninterrupted reprimanding, along with the King's very audible (so much so that it was slightly concerning) sighs and face palms.

All the staff, now disturbed from their slumber, stayed curious and intrigued in the lower chambers of the castle. They had somehow managed to convince Yuuri and Phichit (mostly just Phichit who had tugged Yuuri along without much pity) to go and see what the fuss was all about.

The two had made their way to the Great Hall, where Prince Nikiforov was sitting at a marvellous table, surrounded by the King and who Yuuri had assumed to be the prince's advisor, Yakov. He also remembers the four other guards present in the room, who seemed to shrink away as Yakov continued to yell in absolute annoyance.

He doesn't remember what exactly they had been discussing, but Yuuri reminisces the bored look on Viktor's face - but also dwells on the underlying fear that had been ever-present in his body language.

He goes as far as to think about the fact that he swears the crown prince had saw him then, behind a small entrance to the left, where he had hidden stupidly with Phichit: who seemed content staying in the corner behind Yuuri, listening carefully to the gossip but shielding himself away from the source - much to his exasperation.

With a hesitant flinch that became a full turn of his head, he remembers the way his highness' eyes had widened ever so slightly at him; the unmistakable eye-contact.

Curious blue eyes that glinted magically in a dizzy haze - an almost taunting look that beckoned Yuuri from the darkness. He also remembers the vague purse of his lips, a thin line that the maid couldn't help but fantasise about. Not to mention his shining hair and smooth-looking skin.

He wonders briefly what it would feel like to hold his face in his hands.

He's never told anybody about this.

Not Guang-Hong Ji, nor Phichit - who, as previously mentioned, had hidden behind Yuuri at the time, and so he missed exact moment the prince had possibly seen them, because it had been blocked off from his field of view. And either way, if Yuuri had ever told either of them about his little crush on the blue blood, he'd never live it down. They'd tease and meddle and so on.

The chamberlain was much more content admiring such beauty from afar. Quietly, that is.

And he knew, obviously, he wasn't the only admirer of Prince Viktor Nikiforov: royals and peasants alike.

Yuuri's glad it was almost pitch black in the Hall then, save for a few lit candles that had been placed atop the dining table as well as the one that the advisor had been holding, well, waving around quite dangerously.

If it hadn't been-

He's suddenly snapped out of his thoughts, after hearing an almost silent but nevertheless, shrill creak of a door.

The back door.

Why was Prince Nikiforov...?

Oh...

He was sneaking out.

Again.

Yuuri raised an unimpressed eyebrow - of course, this handsome but likely spoiled brat was intent on getting into more trouble.

He hadn't truly met the man, only exchanging polite greetings when he happened to set foot into the same room as him - a room in which would coincidentally happen to be where Yuuri was carrying out a task of his or two.

This had only happened a measly three times, over the expanse of his near three-year stay in the castle.

He supposes it's not fair to call his majesty spoilt or a brat, or any combination of the two. Not when he at least acknowledged him when he entered the room, unlike other important people who had visited the Nikiforov's kingdom for whatever business.

(And being born into fortune wasn't his fault anyway - it didn't automatically make him the selfish person Yuuri had first prejudiced)

He'd always kept his down during his completion of tasks, though - never fully looking the prince in the eye, minding his own affairs and scurrying away as soon as he'd finished.

He feared that he would be recognised from that night in the Great Hall, a good three years ago - if the royal had truly seen him.

He had taken extra precautions anyway, always avoiding the prince when he could afford to, and dragging someone with him to hide behind when needed. He knows he hadn't let the his majesty get a good look at his face, and yet, it wasn't enough to truly ensure that he wouldn't have registered his face by now. But it was enough to deceptively relieve Yuuri of the constant nagging worry that he'd be punished for eavesdropping on a fairly private matter.

And besides, it wasn't as if he had run into the man in question a countless number of times afterward - again, Yuuri could recall their one-on-one encounters on only one hand.

Even more so, he recounts that there had been a sort of business that the royal family had to attend to over the course of his first week there, meaning that Yuuri and other newly hired staff hadn't been properly introduced. Additionally, they never found the time afterwards, and soon enough two years and three quarters had passed, and no one in the castle felt introductions were quite so needed anymore.

This meant that his majesty hopefully wouldn't recognise him if he saw him, nor would he recall his name.

Yuuri had begun to head back out the kitchen, making a silent promise to visit the flowers tomorrow, when he noted a flicker of black through the corner of his eye.

A shape that had flitted across the expanse of the large window of the cookery.

Out of intuition, Yuuri ran over to the crown prince, wordlessly apologising before yanking him by the shoulders, away from the door and forcing his mouth shut with a single hand.

He had underestimated his own strength - or overestimated the prince's; it seemed that the taller man struggled in his grasp, bending backward to accommodate Yuuri's stand.

Perhaps carrying all that laundry had toughened him up.

The chamberlain stumbled blindly over to the wall behind, grappling against the royalty he had bundled up in his grasp.

It was then that he had begged the Prince to stay quiet, which had somehow proved effective with the sudden stillness of the man.

Or maybe it was because he could now hear the idle chatter of two guards from outside.

Yuuri's fairly sure he heard the name 'Leo'.

The name of the mystery man Ji had been sneaking around to meet. The very man who was probably the reason why Yuuri found himself backed up into a wall, currently giving what might've looked like a back-hug to Prince Viktor Nikiforov, but was instead a strange and sad parody of something more aggressive.

He silently curses him.

Soon enough, the guards had dashed away, and Yuuri had mentally started saying thank you, to who, he wasn't sure - yet, it didn't cease his sudden joy for successfully staying hidden away from said guards.

Yuuri can pinpoint, however, the exact moment it all went to shit.

Prince Nikiforov had half the mind to, all of a sudden, push Yuuri off of him, and pin him down to the wall - reversing their roles of captive and captor.

The maid recalls the initial overwhelming fear that had possessed his body then, and he was certain he was to be executed by dawn.

Who would've thought he'd live to tell the tale?

---

His lips parted in anticipated response, not yet fully knowing what he wanted to say.

Viktor Nikiforov now knew exactly what he looked like, as well as his given name. All his efforts over the years, gone lay to waste.

He should've minded his own business.

He could try to run as far and fast as his legs would allow, but it would do nothing to aid Yuuri, for the royal family could put a bounty on his head with such information.

Wonderful.

The prince stood, awaiting, arm still stretched out invitingly toward Yuuri, hopeful blue eyes that made the chamberlain feel small.

Yuuri flushes yet again, embarrassed and unsure - the crown prince was quite the charmer, he'd allowed himself to admitwithout much indifference.

It was then that the abrupt clatter of armour could be distinctly heard again, and two out-of-breath soldiers came bustling through the back kitchen door - one pointing accusingly at the maid himself.

"I told you I heard something!"

---

Taglist:

@thatonespidermonkey @stainedglassm

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paxohana · 4 years

Text

Menagerie, Pt. 10

The sky was twinking with stars by the time they arrived home. Viktor and his father had been away for a little over a month and Viktor was relieved to be home. Not only was he able to sleep in his own bed, he’d be able to see Yuuri.

His entire being yearned to spend time with Yuuri. He thought of him thousands of times while he was in London and it was the best torment. Though he wanted to see him that very moment, Viktor knew it wasn’t feasible since it was close to two in the morning.

Helping the butler bring in the luggage from outside, Viktor retired to his room when they completed the task. He toed his shoes off, laid down, resting his arms behind his head. His thoughts were filled with Yuuri and he dreamed of being reunited with him by the time he drifted to sleep.

<hr>

Yuuri was chatting with his family at the breakfast table, his heart broken that Viktor hadn’t returned. Toshiya and Mari were discussing business, Yuuri wishing they would stop. He was about to give up on breakfast when he heard a knock at the door. His heart sped up and he offered to get the door, quickly rising from his seat and striding toward the door. There was a courier on the stoop and he had a letter for Yuuri. After tipping the young man and thanking him, Yuuri tore into the envelope and read the letter inside.

My Sweet Yuuri,

We returned home early this morning. You don’t know how much I wanted to send this to you the moment I got home, but I didn’t want to interrupt your rest. I eagerly await seeing you. I plan on remaining at home until I hear from you.

As always…

I am yours, Viktor

He read it once more for good measure and ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. He knew he should finish his meal, but he was far too excited at the aspect of seeing Viktor. He gave no care to what he wore that day, taking only a moment to make sure his clothing was acceptable. Placing his straw hat on his head, Yuuri ran out the door and towards the Nikiforov estate.

Yuuri could hear the sounds of a piano drifting through the air, getting louder as he approached the patio leading to the front door. On a normal day, he would take the time to listen to it. This day was different, however, and Yuuri wanted to see Viktor posthaste.

Yuuri knocked on the door and waited for it to be answered. He didn’t have to wait long, grinning when he saw Viktor’s face. He looked tired but happy to see him. Resisting the urge to kiss Viktor senseless, Yuuri took Viktor’s hands in his own.

“You don’t know how overjoyed I am to see you,” Yuuri said breathlessly.

“And I you,” Viktor agreed, “Would you like to come in?. I have so many stories to tell you. I even bought you a tiny souvenir.”

“I’d like that,” Yuuri replied.

After ushering Yuuri in, Viktor guided him to the stairs and asked how Yuuri had fared during their time apart. Yuuri told him about the long days of work and the even longer times without him. Yuuri tried to make the best of it and stay busy. He surprised Viktor by telling him he had played polo once with Harold and his brothers. While it wasn’t as appealing as when Viktor was there, he had fun nonetheless.

Once they reached Viktor’s room, Yuuri was stunned by the normalcy of Viktor’s room. He expected it to exude the wealth that was present in the rest of the house, but none was to be seen. Taking in every aspect of it, Yuuri turned around and saw Viktor grinning at him.

“I didn’t think I expected this,” Yuuri admitted, “I like it.”

“I like at least one space to reflect who I really am,” Viktor said, “Besides, I have my most decadent area in my closet. I’m quite picky when it comes to a wardrobe.”

Yuuri giggled and the edges of Viktor’s eyes creased in bemusement. Viktor took Yuuri’s hand and led him to a nearby loveseat. They were cramped by the smallness, but Viktor loved the body heat radiating from Yuuri. Looking up and catching Yuuri’s gaze, Viktor smiled softly.

“I missed you so much,” Viktor said, leaning in for a brief kiss.

The kiss was just the tip of everything they felt for one another. It was sweet, loving, and ever so delicate. Sitting back, Viktor smiled once again when he saw the faint blush on Yuuri’s cheeks.

“How I missed feeling your lips upon mine,” Viktor whispered, brushing Yuuri’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

Taking a deep breath, Viktor settled in next to Yuuri so his hand could rest on Yuuri’s knee. He talked about all the landmarks he saw and how much better it would have been with Yuuri there. He discussed the boring meetings he was forced to attend. While he did enjoy the town itself, he wanted nothing more than to be with Yuuri.

“I did get you something,” Viktor said, pulling a small box from a nearby drawer and handing it to Yuuri.

Yuuri glanced at the box before turning his gaze to look at Viktor, confused when he saw the logo of a world-famous jeweler. Opening the lid, Yuuri gasped when he saw the delicate hand-blown red glass rose in the midst of a fragile glass vase. He didn’t want to pick it up for fear he’d drop it, but Viktor took the box from him and lifted the piece from its setting.

“It even has a ruby in the middle,” Viktor said, pointing at the small stone in the center of the rose.

Yuuri nodded and felt a tear slip down his cheek. He had never received anything on the scale that Viktor had given him. Too awestruck to speak, Yuuri simply nodded once more.

“Cat got your tongue?” Viktor teased.

“This is beautiful,” Yuuri declared, “I can’t believe something like this exists.”

Viktor smiled and listened to Yuuri gush about every aspect of the rose. He saw things Viktor hadn’t thought of and it was an eye-opening experience. Taking a breath, Yuuri leaned forward and brushed his lips across Viktor’s.

“Thank you so much,” Yuuri said, “I’ve never received anything so breathtaking before.”

“I’m glad you like it. Would you like to take it home and then we can head to the park? I would hate for it to shatter,” Viktor suggested.

Yuuri agreed and took Viktor’s hand when he stood. Seeing Viktor again was everything he thought it would be and more. Yuuri couldn’t believe how much he missed him now that he was with him. He never wanted to be apart from Viktor that long again.

Stopping momentarily so Yuuri could take his gift home, they headed toward the town square. It was bustling by the time they arrived and they sincerely hoped there would be a checkers table clear. They went into the cafe and bought some lemonades before starting the search for a table to play at. None were free, but there were a few chess tables empty. After learning they both knew how to play, they chose one and sat down.

“I play a mean game of chess,” Yuuri said.

“I don’t think you have the capability to be mean,” Viktor joked, laughing when Yuuri gave him an exasperated look.

They talked while setting the board up, discussing polo that week and how Harold had sprained his ankle the week before. Viktor mentioned they might have to postpone the match that week, but Yuuri told him that Thomas’ cousin promised to fill in for Harold.

They fell silent once the game started. They both displayed their finesse and knowledge of the game, both of them clearing the board of lesser pieces. Viktor was down to his king and moved it all over the board in an effort to not be captured.

“Check,” Yuuri said, when he placed his queen in front of Viktor’s king, “and mate.”

“How did your rook get over there so fast?” Viktor questioned.

“It’s been there for three turns, silly,” Yuuri teased, “Ready or another?”

They played until the sun began to set and the park started to clear out. Deciding to wrap up the current game quickly, Yuuri placed the pieces back in the drawer and cleaned the top of the board off. Once everything was settled, Viktor took Yuuri’s hand and led him through a flower-filled alley.

“Do you remember the first time we came through here?” Viktor inquired.

“The night you kissed my forehead,” Yuuri said, touched that Viktor still remembered.

“That was one of the best nights of my life,” Viktor confessed.

They continued walking down the alley until they reached the bridge leading to the other side of town. They crossed the bridge and took a shortcut through the grass, sitting down once they reached the old willow tree.

“I think this is our spot, Yuuri,” Viktor observed.

“I agree with you wholeheartedly,” Yuuri said.

Viktor laid back and stared at the sky through the fronds of the willow tree. The sky looked as soft as Yuuri’s skin, the twinkling reminiscent of Yuuri’s eyes. Not about to contain himself, Viktor sat up and cupped Yuuri’s face.

“I’ve never before seen such a perfect ensemble formed in one person,” Viktor started, “How do you capture my heart so?”

Yuuri looked down at a thread he was toying with and contemplated Viktor’s words. He knew exactly how Viktor felt because that was what drew Viktor to him. He just never expected to hear his own thoughts echoed back at him.

“I wonder the same about you countless times each day, Vitya,” Yuuri whispered.

Viktor eased onto his side and searched Yuuri’s face. His eyes sparkled from the moonlight and his lips were slightly opened. The small gasps he took while gazing at the sky endeared him even more to Viktor.

“I do believe you are an angel descended from heaven,” Viktor whispered, brushing a single lock of hair out of Yuuri’s vision.

Yuuri looked at him, shocked from his confession. He knew Viktor fancied him, but not enamored as much as Viktor professed. While Yuuri fought the perils of infatuation since he didn’t think Viktor felt the same, Yuuri felt as if the cage surrounding his heart flew open and set forth to fly.

“No, Viktor, I’m not,” Yuuri assured him, “Maybe we were destined to meet and fall in love, though it’s been a rather quick endeavor of our relationship.”

“Do you think this has been a speedy experience?” Viktor asked, watching Yuuri nod, “I apologize for pressing my wants upon you, Yuuri. What can I do to make it up to you?”

“It’s not all that bad, Vitya,” Yuuri said, “I just don’t want to blaze like a meteor and then the next week it’s gone..”

“I can promise you that you are not a flight of fancy, my sweet Yuuri, I love you with everything that I have. I know our love is young, but I want to see if blossom into a mature love,” Viktor said, “I want you in my life for the duration. I can definitely promise you that.”

Yuuri turned his head and caught Viktor’s gaze with his own. Searching Viktor’s eyes, Yuuri gasped slightly when Viktor lowered his head and captured Yuuri’s lips with his. The taste of Viktor flooded his mouth and he didn’t realize how much he missed it until that moment. He knew he could go on kissing Viktor forever, but alas the fates weren’t kind to relationships such as theirs. Resigning himself to cherish whatever time he had with Viktor, Yuuri continued to kiss Viktor in the most passionate kiss either had ever experienced. When they finally broke apart, Viktor placed his arm around the back of Yuuri’s neck and grinned.

“I think I could grow to love that for the rest of my life,” Viktor stated, “but it’s time we return to our respective homes. I’ll walk you to your door.”

Yuuri returned the smile and nodded, being in full agreement. Night had fallen and it had been dark for a few hours, so Viktor risked it all and held Yuuri’s hand. Not caring about the repercussions of the action, Viktor only basked in the love between them.

When they reached Yuuri’s house, Yuuri stood on the steps leading up to the porch. He didn’t want the night to end but knew that it must. Looking at Viktor, Yuuri sighed sadly.

“I feel like we have so much time to catch up on,” Yuuri said.

“At least a ton more kisses as well,” Viktor said, winking when Yuuri giggled, “What do you have planned for tomorrow?”

“I have to balance a few books, but after that I should have the afternoon free,” Yuuri said.

“Would you fancy going swimming in the lake with me?” Viktor asked.

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Yuuri said, “I’m saddened to say that this is the end of our fabulous evening.”

“I as well, but we always have tomorrow,” Viktor promised him, making circles on Yuuri’s hand with the pad of his thumb, “I shall collect my evening kiss then.”

“All right,” Yuuri said, laughing when Viktor smiled, “Until tomorrow, Vitya.”

“Until then, my sweet Yuuri. Until then.”

The art done by the amazingly talented @princessmimoza. Need to catch up? Check it out on Ao3 here.

#menagerie update #victuuri fic #viktuuri fic #pax writes #princessmimoza draws #Viktor Nikiforov #Katsuki Yuuri

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readsomescribbledybop · 4 years

Text

For some reason, I can’t reblog the prompt I used for this!

Please check out @dailyau for their writing prompts! For some reason, I couldn’t reblog the prompt I used for this au but it was the 'You're the stranger who's using my car's window as mirror to check how you look without noticing I'm sitting right in there, so I go ahead and open the window to tell you how pretty you are' AU. I technically didn’t follow instructions either. Darn. Anyways. I really liked this one and in the original post I composed I started off by CRACKING MY BONES. Here, I’ll just copy and paste it.

Ohhohohohohohohohohoho..... what have we here? *cracks fingers, back, and neck and then the knees too for good measure*

Yuuri allowed himself an extra few minutes to sit in his car and warm up his hands before stepping into the bitter wind. Winter was so intense this year that he could feel the inside of his bones, and he was certain the marrow there was frozen. He technically had the time. No one else came to work as early as him, not even Victor, and he was the CEO.

Yuuri just liked to make sure that he had the itinerary ready for Victor when he arrived, the to-do list sorted, memos organized, etcetera. That way, when Victor walked in, he could give his boss a quick synopsis of the day ahead, a smooth start to yet another productive day at Nikiforov Inc. He shivered and thought about how his first order of business would be to immediately send Minami out to grab coffees. He felt bad for subjecting the plucky intern to these conditions, but he’d let him take the company car.

He huffed into his palms and jumped when a shadow passed the outside of his car. Yuuri squinted through the frosted glass at someone in a dark trench coat, shoulders hunched against the wind. It was barely five in the morning and even the janitors came in at six... he leaned closer and watched as the wind pushed the person back, their platinum hair flying up in a lovely flurry.

Victor?! It was actually him, and now that Yuuri was looking properly, it couldn’t have been anyone but him, with the unmistakable attention to detail in his coat’s tailoring, the scarf that was clearly designer even through the dark mist of the early morning, and that shock of beautiful, silver hair. It was even cute swept up in a tuft, Yuuri thought. What brings you here so early, Mr. Nikiforov? He laughed quietly to himself as he watched Victor hesitate, his shoulders sagging dramatically before turning around as if looking for something. He seemed to have found it when his eyes landed on Yuuri’s car. Yuuri watched half with interest and half with mild dread because he really didn’t want to get out of his car just yet. It was still far too cold.

But Victor wasn’t looking at him. Yuuri frowned as Victor stopped right outside his passenger window. He expected Victor to say something, but instead, his boss leaned down to check his reflection in Yuuri’s mirror. He barely held down a snort. Victor frowned at his reflection as he tried to smooth down his wind swept tuft with gloved fingers. He fussed with it and pouted before turning to face the window, it seemed for a larger reflection. Yuuri pursed his lips on a smile-- Victor was looking right at him. Couldn’t he see Yuuri? Victor straightened out his shiny bangs, a perfect flirty curtain over his left eye, and then stood up straighter to look at himself, turned left and right as if to check all of his angles for imperfections that he definitely didn’t have. He tilted his chin up, showing off his cheekbones, the frame of an immaculate picture. He licked his pink lips and Yuuri bit his own, watched as Victor procured a tube of chap stick from his pocket to apply it. He took a step back, tilted his head at the window, and Yuuri nodded at him, giving his silent approval of the finished look.

But Victor still wasn’t satisfied as he huffed and marched impatiently back to the window. Yuuri lifted an eyebrow at Victor who slapped his hands on his cheeks in despair at his reflection. Yuuri chuckled and rolled the window down. Victor’s blue eyes flew open in shock.

“Good morning, Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri greeted him warmly.

“Ah! Yuuri! I-- I didn’t know-- your car,” he stammered, actually looking flustered, something entirely new to Yuuri who was used to seeing smooth Victor. Confident Victor. The Victor that made business deals like it was a childhood hobby. It was endearing to see. Yuuri beamed at him. Victor cleared his throat and tried to collect himself as he straightened his scarf around his collar. “Sorry about that...”

“Not at all,” Yuuri said and tried not to be too obvious about looking at Victor’s winter reddened cheeks. “You look lovely this morning,” he added softly.

“Ah, well,” Victor mumbled awkwardly though he smiled a little as he rocked on his heels.

“Would you like to get in and warm up before going up to the office, sir?”

“Um, well, if that’s alright with you,” Victor said and Yuuri unlocked the door for Victor. Victor stepped in the car and shut the door behind him, bringing in a warm, soft smell with him that sent an electric trickle up Yuuri’s back. It was somehow clean and woody at the same time, Like a hint of cedar on linen... Victor looked at the gold watch on his wrist. “Do you really always come in this early, Yuuri?”

“There’s always plenty of work waiting for me.”

“You work too hard.”

“Forgive me if I don’t take the man who built an empire from the ground up too seriously, sir.”

“I had help,” Victor smirked.

“That you did,” he pulled a pair of gloves out of his coat pocket and put them on. “Pardon the intrusion but, may I ask what brings you to the office so early? Is there something I can help you with?”

“Ah,” Victor sighed. From the corner of his eye, Yuuri watched the white ribbon of breath curl in the air in front of Victor. He seemed to be thinking something over as he stuck his tongue in his cheek and drummed his thighs with his fingers. “I guess there’s no getting around it now,” Victor said with a gentle smile and he reached into his coat to pull out a small velvet box. “I wanted to surprise you somehow, leave it on your desk before the rest of the staff arrived, but... you never fail to surprise me, Yuuri.”

“Surprise?”

“I usually pride myself in being excellent at surprises,” he admitted with a wolfish grin, “but I had to think about a surprise that would be right for Yuuri Katsuki, the world’s most wonderful executive assistant. A man of class, poise, efficiency, beauty--”

“Mr. Nikiforov...”

“Professionalism, right,” he waved his hand dismissively before finishing “a man who carries the weight of a company on his shoulders.”

“But, you’re the CEO.”

“As far as I’m concerned we’re the CEO,” he corrected sternly. And Yuuri threw his head back and laughed at how ridiculous Victor was being. “I thought about showering you with roses, hiring a harpist, or renting a horse drawn carriage, but nothing seemed to be a fit for you.”

“You know me much better than I gave you credit for,” Yuuri said, his neck growing hot at the idea of a Cinderella style carriage arriving in front of the office in front of all the employees.

“Of course, I do! None of those things were good enough for my Yuuri.” He handed the box to Yuuri who took it. “Nothing is good enough for you, to be completely honest. But anyways... happy birthday, Yuuri.”

“Oh!” Now, Yuuri thought he must’ve been the one to be red in the face because his skin was on fire, and his heart jumped in his chest with delight. “I-- thank you, Vic-- I-- Mr. Nikiforov, I really appreciate this,” he exclaimed, feeling both elated and embarrassed.

“If you like it now, just wait until you open it,” Victor joked and Yuuri chuckled, feeling silly for getting worked up over a box. He gently lifted the lid to find a pair of matching gold cuff links with his initials embossed in the smooth surface.

“They’re perfect,” Yuuri said. “This is... this is really thoughtful, Mr. Nikiforov.”

Victor sighed, content as he stretched back against his seat. “I’m giving you the day off.”

“That is inadvisable.”

“You deserve it, Yuuri. I’ll handle the paperwork when I go in.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“I changed my mind. Take the whole week to enjoy yourself. You can use the company card to buy yourself something nice.”

“I’m not going home, Victor,” Yuuri shook his head at his boss who was being insufferably silly. Victor’s lips curled up.

“Got you to say my name,” he taunted. Yuuri rolled his eyes and smirked in spite of himself.

“Can you believe that our partners actually find you intimidating?”

“It’s a mystery to me. I have a very sunny disposition.” Yuuri hummed and gingerly removed a cuff link from its foam. He attached them both to his sleeves and admired them in the new morning light. It was pale and pink like strawberry lemonade, a hue that made the frosted Earth blush. “You made it perfect,” Victor murmured and Yuuri grinned.

“I love them, Victor. This means a lot to me. Shall we?” Yuuri asked Victor who nodded and they both got out of the car to start the day.

They walked in comfortable silence to the doors. When Yuuri stopped to open them, Victor turned suddenly to him and opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again and smiled.

“Don’t tell me you actually did get the carriage,” Yuuri teased and Victor laughed, shook his head.

“No, this is... this is different,” he said and pulled a small white envelope from his pocket. It was blank. “This isn’t a present. Sorry to start your birthday with more work but...”

“No reason to be sorry. It’s my job, after all,” Yuuri straightened up to pay attention.

“When you have time, take a look at this for me. Tell me if it’s... professional. If it isn’t, feel free to throw it away,” he instructed as he handed the envelope to Yuuri and walked through the open door ahead of him in one swift movement.

“Is it time sensitive?”

“Not at all,” Victor said over his shoulder. “Read it when you’re ready,” and he pushed the black and gold button for the elevator. Yuuri frowned at the little envelope but shrugged as he tucked it into his pocket.

“Understood,” Yuuri said.

The rest of the day was peacefully busy, a normal day of hustle and buzz. Yuuri organized Victor’s schedule for the week, called clients to arrange conference dates, reviewed the weekly company outreach report, and set up Victor’s poodle’s vet appointment. It was satisfyingly productive, he thought as he allowed himself to deflate into his desk chair at the end of the day. Everyone but he and Victor had clocked out to go home. He was glad that no one besides Victor knew about his birthday... the attention would’ve made him uncomfortable.

Victor’s gift was more than enough, the cherry on top of a beautiful day. He thought about going to his favorite Japanese restaurant for dinner, a little mom and pop shop that made a katsudon almost as good as his mother’s. Victor strode out of his office and rapped his knuckles on Yuuri’s desk as he passed.

“Time to go home, Yuuri,” he said, just like always.

“Good work today, Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri replied and Victor mouthed happy birthday over his shoulder at Yuuri before stepping into the elevator. As the doors closed, he winked and was gone.

That man. Yuuri bit his lip and spun around in his chair. When it stopped spinning, he leaned on his desk and ran a thumb over one of the cuff links, absently thinking about that morning. About Victor checking his reflection in Yuuri’s car window. About Victor making Yuuri’s car smell like that. Of course, as Victor’s executive assistant, he had to remain professional, set up boundaries so that their work relationship functioned, so that the company functioned. That was what was important. But, it was Yuuri’s professional opinion that Victor Nikiforov was hot enough to set the devil on fire.

And he was a good person too, which only made him hotter, as far as Yuuri was concerned. He was an amazing leader, philanthropic, and loving. He was quite clever too, and as ambitious as Yuuri was, he had to admit that Victor Nikiforov impressed him so thoroughly that Victor’s back was the only one Yuuri was content with standing behind. But it never felt like he was standing behind Victor as much as he was standing at his side. Like partners.

He tried to clear his head by writing and sending out a company memo about the holiday bonuses. Once he finished that and several other little administrative tasks, he consulted the to do list on his tablet. It was nearly complete except--

“Oh, I forgot!” He said out loud even though he was alone. He opened his desk and pulled the letter that Victor gave him out of the drawer. It was sealed with a gold sticker. It looked like a medal. He carefully removed this and sat back in his seat to read the letter. He immediately recognized his boss’ thin, neat cursive.

A soft flame rose in his chest when he read the first line.

Dear Yuuri,

Happy birthday! It seems like only yesterday that Chris hired you. If I remember correctly, you were actually officially appointed on your birthday. I could kick myself for the way I behaved back then. I was so accustomed to doing things by myself so I wasn’t exactly open to the idea of having an assistant. I am so, so sorry for everything. The truth is that now I can’t imagine running this company without you. I can’t imagine my life without you, Yuuri. Your heart is so beautiful. I can’t believe someone like you can be real: someone so compassionate but confident, someone creative and intelligent. You are like a song, Yuuri, and you gave me a new reason, a worthwhile reason to wake up and come to work every day. You gave me a reason to have passion and drive. You gave me a reason to finally use these words:

I love you. I just wanted to let you know...

Yours Forever,

Victor Nikiforov

“Hooo, my god.”

#yuuri on ice #yoi #fanfic #office au #writing prompt #i dont know how to use tumblr send help #not hr #not hero reform #my car window

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louciferish · 5 years

Text

the darkest hour (5/5)

[Part One] [Two] [Three] [Four] or [All On AO3]

The next time the bag comes off, it’s much less gentle. Victor’s mouth is already twisted with displeasure, the light in his eyes dim. His tone is perfunctory as he asks, “Where did you last take a holiday?”

“I’ve never taken a holiday,” Yuuri says. “Not since I was a boy. Not since you began this rebellion.”

Yuuri expects anger, even mockery. He doesn’t expect the soft sadness that washes over Victor’s face. “I didn’t begin this,” he says. “In fact, I hope to end it. With your help.”

He lifts the sack again, but Yuuri jerks his head back, the force of it sending the chair screeching out of reach.

“What do you even want with me?” The King demands an answer, but without much practice being a king, Yuuri thinks his own voice sounds petulant rather than powerful. “Why keep me here, asking these inane questions? Why won’t you let me go back home?”

Victor’s arms drop, and the burlap sack slips to the floor. He reaches out—a firm press of fingertips on Yuuri’s chin, tilting his face up toward the light. The torch’s reflection in Victor’s blue eyes looks like starlight.

“But Yuuri,” Victor says softly, searching Yuuri’s face as if it’s the only place he can find peace. “You asked me not to let you go.”

“Take me with you. I never want to see this place again—please. Don’t make me come back.” Yuuri can hear the words, echoing through his head, and just like that, he can feel-

The stiff fabric of Victor’s doublet twists beneath his fingers as Yuuri clutches at his chest. It’s cold enough on his balcony that Yuuri can see their breath cloud and mingle, but it’s worth braving the chill to see Victor like this—warm and wrapped in starlight.

Yuuri rises up on his toes to speak his next words against Victor’s lips. “I can’t wait any longer.”

That droplet of memory precedes a flood, and then Yuuri is blinking, shaking his head as Victor stares down at him in apprehension.

Yuuri tilts his head, smiling up at him as he says, “I can’t believe I’ve been here so long… and you haven’t kissed me.”

Victor falls to his knees at Yuuri’s feet, his face exploding into a full grin. “Yuuri,” he chants like a prayer as he scrambles for the ropes on Yuuri’s wrists. “Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri, my love—I thought we lost you.”

“No, not that easily.” Yuuri ducks his head as he rubs the blood flow back into his hands. “My mind began resisting the memory potions a few weeks ago. I had to up the dose. I couldn’t resist slipping in front of my advisors, not when we were so close.”

Victor shakes his head. “Well if you had told Yuuko that before she gave you more-” He breaks off the scolding as he frees Yuuri’s remaining leg from its bonds, then raises Yuuri’s foot to kiss his ankle.

Yuuri reaches out, twining his fingers in Victor’s hair as the man looks up through silver lashes, his lips still pressed to Yuuri’s foot. “Hurry up and let me out,” Yuuri says, feeling his veins ignite with love and something even more rare to him— hope. “I think we have a war to end.”

There are whispers in the streets of the kingdom.

The king is vanished.

The king is dead.

The Katsuki line was always cursed—look at what happened to the others.

There are other whispers too—whispers of betrayal and regicide, and of the two men who are standing up to the crown, new faces and fresh inspiration among the rebels.

Change is coming, and transformation. The people buzz with fresh energy, sick of petty games and frail tyranny.

The king is dead.

Long live the kings.

#yuri on ice #victuuri #victuuri fic #yoi fic #my fanfiction #royalty au #the darkest hour

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katzuyas · 5 years

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for @vityaweek day 4 | prompt: hairstyle

“don’t move just yet, darling,” victor tells him, the little endearment falling from his lips like it’s nothing.

yuuri tries hard not to blush at it, but it’s nearly impossible when faced with the sweet sound of victor’s humming, victor’s hands tucking his hair here and there, and him being so close... so close that yuuri can clearly see the sheen of victor’s chanel balm on his lips. and yet, he needs to resist the urge to kiss that pretty mouth that’s saying such pretty, pretty things.

honestly, yuuri feels like he’s going to burst with want even though it’s only been five minutes. maybe even less. or maybe more, yuuri can’t really tell. being so close to victor always makes time seem like a rather insignificant thing to pay attention to. after all, why do that when he can admire his fiance’s perfect lips, jaw, chin, neck--

“there,” victor finally says after another minute. “all done.”

absently, he tugs on the little strand of yuuri’s hair that’s artfully hanging before yuuri’s eyes, and he smiles: a smile so full of satisfaction and adoration that yuuri’s blush deepens all on its own. before yuuri can say anything, victor steps to the side from where he was blocking the bathroom mirror and yuuri can see his reflection staring back at him.

except, it doesn’t look like him at all.

“wow, how did you...?” he starts, but he can’t really finish that thought. he’s too enraptured in his hair.

it looks mussed up, but in a way that is slightly rugged, handsome, mature and a whole lot sexy. yuuri can’t really believe that this is him, yet when he turns his head left and right that reflection turns with him. so it must be him. but how? how did victor make his hair into something so--

“a little gel here and there, but mostly? you’re just gorgeous, love,” victor replies.

he comes up to stand right behind yuuri and winks. his smile shines even brighter in the reflection of the mirror than the lights above their heads do. yuuri is caught in that far too much to fight a blush that rises to his cheeks at victor’s flirting. but as soon as it does, yuuri pushes it down and turns.

“oh really?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

the little strand of hair dangles in his eyes, but yuuri can’t care about it now. not when victor’s eyes darken so sweetly when he takes a step closer. their chests brush as yuuri climbs to his toes and rests a claiming hand on the back of victor’s neck. his fingers slip into the baby hairs on victor’s nape, so tender, so soft...

he can feel victor’s shiver on his own skin without even trying to.

“don’t you think I look like a mess like this?” yuuri asks, close enough to kiss victor, but not crossing that line. not yet.

victor’s breath is faster than usual, warming yuuri’s lips as it leaves him.

“a very sexy mess,” victor corrects just as his hands find their place on yuuri’s hips. “but do you like it? if you keep your hair long I could do it like this for you before every competition.”

yuuri suppresses a laugh. “is that what you’ve been trying to do?”

when victor only grins in reply, yuuri gives in and laughs. it’s a short chuckle, though, because the little stray strand of hair tickles his cheek and victor’s eyes follow it: dark, wanting, so obvious.

yuuri’s lips quirk before he even knows it.

“I have a feeling that wouldn’t be good for either of us,” he says in a voice that is definitely lower than it was before. “we would get too distracted.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” victor insists, but his eyes are sparked with the same fire that churns in yuuri’s belly.

“you don’t?” yuuri licks his lips, delighting in the hitch of victor’s breath on his lips. “ah, I guess I just need to show you then, mm?”

when they leave the bathroom an hour later, yuuri’s hair is completely ruined by the very hands that made it so pretty before, his lips are red and shiny just like the blush on his cheeks and the gleam in his eyes, and victor himself doesn’t look much better than that, but still -- the love-struck smile on victor’s face definitely says that he didn’t regret it in the slightest.

and secretly, very secretly and deep, deep down in his heart, yuuri decides that he could let his hair grow out every now and then. for, you know, reasons. and for those same reasons he could let victor play with it. after all, he is really, really good at it...

#yuri on ice #vityaweek2018 #victuuri #viktuuri #victor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #victuri #vikturi #my fic #oh this is a mess #I'm sorry #writing is hard today but I still wanted to write something for vitya #he deserves it #so here it is #messy writing messy hairstyle and messy messy bj IMPLIED #if you know where to look //winkwonk

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marble-guts · 5 years

Text

(read on ao3)

Yuuri’s favorite color is blue.

It’s not exactly a challenge to figure it out.

It’s the color of his glasses, the case he tucks them into when he steps onto the ice, the color of Yuuri’s poodle phone case. Viktor tries not to smile when he turns it over in his hands, watching Yuuri as he skates around the rink-- once, twice, a slightly faster, more anxious third time. Even the jacket on the chair beside him is blue, and although his warm up jacket looks gray in the lights overhead, Viktor knows its blue.

All of it is blue.

The music Yuuri skates to is blue-- it always has been, and Viktor is sure it always will be.

After Sochi he had taken every free moment of his time to watch Yuuri’s practice videos. He was one of the few skaters who didn’t squander practice tapes and progress under lock and key. Every two weeks or so, another video either practice or tutorial would surface, Yuuri in blue skating to blue music.

Most of them were from Instagram, small snippets of Yuuri at a distance as he threw himself around on the ice, both a marionette and the puppeteer.

The music was always him in a strange way. Soft in a way that ached, dreamlike with a bitter edge, cold like the ice he skated on. When the tone shifted, so did Yuuri, and with each season, Yuuri’s tone became less saturated, less him and more of what others thought he was and expected him to be.

Those were his cracks.

He hated admitting even to himself that he had taken notes on Yuuri’s cracks, on his struggles and fears. It felt predatory, looking at Yuuri like a coach, like a piece of art from afar worthy of his commentary.

Viktor thought back to how Yakov had observed him for a full two years before he decided Viktor was worth his time. He thought about how he had showed off a quad salchow in juniors, perfectly placed in front of Yakov. He thought of how Yakov knew Viktor’s fears before he knew them, how the man would check in on him under the pretense of making sure he was still alive.

Yakov had seen his loneliness, just as Viktor had seen Yuuri’s anxiety.

Yuuri’s cracks were something to be utilized, much like Viktor’s own. He bled from them, the blue he was afraid to release, but released through self-sabotage and deprecation.

It was his passion, oozing onto the ice with every fall, every shy teary-eyed interview, promising to do better next time. Viktor could see the pain in the way Yuuri talked to cameras, the way he looked at the judges without meeting their eyes, how he always seemed to be just in the corner of every video, every photo.

The blue that leaked out of him was deep and rich, it was beauty misplaced, opportunity and potential not yet discovered. Viktor wanted nothing more than to drown in it.

He wants Yuuri to drown the world in it, to coat the world with such beauty and grace, to saturate the world with his talent through the story he tells with every movement, ever performance, program, and season.

Instead, Yuuri covers himself, creating an image of himself so distorted that it’s oppressive. The way Yuuri skates, wants to skate, the way he is, and the way people want him to be is such an astounding clash of electric blue costumes and evening blue smiles that Viktor has to take a deep breath. Yuuri is using the ugliest shade of powder blue paint to cover up what could be a record-breaking view.

Viktor doesn’t have a chance to tell him, or to help him peel it all away like the old wallpaper in Yakov’s dining room. The video the triplets release does that instead and it takes Viktor’s aching with it.

Even without Yuuri’s atrocious costumes, the overwhelming contrast in who Yuuri is on ice, who he is on a pole, and who he is at home is almost enough to send Viktor back to St. Petersburg, Aeroloft delays and all.

But Yuuri’s blue returns to him in pieces, in small ever-evolving glimmers behind a mask of self-hatred and questioning.

It’s almost like when he was thirteen, sitting at the kitchen table with his reading assignment in front of him. The house was always quiet, Lilia and Yakov in separate rooms giving Viktor the time and silence to focus, though not on school work. He would watch the prism Lilia had dangling over the window above the sink, he would watch it soak in the sunlight, spinning and never casting the same colorful shade again.

It’s in the way Yuuri watches him stake in Hasetsu, the way he counts the beats of Stammi Vicino on the side of the boards without realizing it. It’s in Yuuri’s hesitancy, how simply he can skate compulsory figures, the gentle pause in his voice when he thinks over what he’s going to say. It’s a second, sometimes three, where Yuuri places his determination ahead of his fears.

It’s only when Yuuri says that eros makes him think of katsudon that Viktor realizes he isn’t even aware of his own bleeding.

He stays up that night, wondering just how dense Yuuri must be, but then he remembers the banquet. Yuuri had been so blue, reflecting every facet of himself like the prism over Lilia’s kitchen sink.

It’s when he’s incredibly late to Yuuri and Yurio’s practices that he knows he’s going to make Yuuri aware in some way, and at the same time, he’s going to prove to Yurio he, too, has cracks.

He does. Just not as he had planned.

Yurio disintegrates on the ice during Agape. Viktor can see it in the way his back stiffens, how his arms move through the stilted poses of ballet. He’s breaking his own heart, none of his movements are his. Instead, they belong to Yakov, Lilia, and whoever else has helped shape Yuri into the Ice Tiger of Russia.

Yuuri doesn’t even have to take his skate guards off to lose himself.

It’s like watching an avalanche how Yuuri’s fingers twitch at his sides when he watches Yuri. He doesn’t know where to put his arms, if he should have them at his sides or across his chest. Viktor wants to solve it for him by taking his hands and holding them, but instead he watches Yuuri when the anxiety begins to crush him.

Yuuri’s hands are in his hair, pulling at it, he’s looking down and knowing, thinking, feeling that he’s next. His resolve, all of the distance he’s put between himself and Viktor, it’s all still there between them when Viktor moves in front of him, wanting nothing more than to touch him. Viktor wonders if any of it is cracking, if he’s breaking through to Yuuri’s true self when Yuuri looks up at him on the verge of tears.

“Yuuri, it’s your turn.”

Yuuri is still struggling to get out of his own head, to surface out of blue that’s hidden underneath.

Eros Yuuri, another mask he’s decided to hide behind, comes forward. “I’m going to become a super, tasty pork cutlet bowl, so please watch me!”

That fraction, that small minuscule piece, of Yuuri, cutting through the mask, is enough to make Viktor forget to breathe. The distance between them, it all vanishes when Yuuri holds him close, as though Viktor is the one bleeding.

“Promise!” Yuuri begs, although it is in no way a question.

Part of Viktor, the ghost of the competitor, wants to get Yuuri on the ice as soon as possible, he wants to remove the crowd, stand by the gate, and watch as Yuuri Katsuki releases all that he’s held back.

“Of course. I love pork cutlet bowls.”

And somehow, in the music, Viktor finds more blue.

Eros becomes the paleness of Hasetsu’s sky, the way it looks through budding springtime trees. Oddly, it’s homesickness, but not for Russia, it’s for a place Viktor has never been before. Later, he knows that it’s the way Yuuri wakes up the morning, stretching his cold feet against Viktor’s legs before he rolls over and falls back to sleep without setting another alarm. It’s how the trees along the Japanese hillside turn dark when a storm approaches, looking almost blue. It’s how the calm ocean waves turn dark with strength.

Eros is still a mask, but truer to Yuuri’s blue.

In another way, Eros is everything Yuuri is capable of, but doesn’t want to be. It’s the dark blue of Japan’s olympic team jackets, the cold comfort of landing a quad flip with no one to satisfy but himself, the sensual aggression only found in sixteen flutes of champagne and the devastation of coming in sixth at the GPF.

It’s the blue of an ice skating rink, being the only person on the ice in an empty stadium. It’s the feeling of hearing his own skates, feeling the way he can dig into the surface with the toepick of his skate through the beginning of Stammi. It’s the blue that was missing from St. Petersburg, only found at the Hermitage in the softness of a gray night.

He wants to ask Yuuri what Eros really is, what it means, and where he finds it.

The mask comes off when Yuuri performs Yuuri on Ice.

Yuuri wears his blue, the comfort of stars in a winter night sky, the warmth of his smile, his eyes. It doesn’t bleed, it shines, through what he allows them to see.

He lets them see the gentle start of his career-- the bee program he performed when he was eight, the middle school photo that his mother keeps on the counter in the kitchen beside a photo of Yuuri’s college graduation. It’s his evolution, his falls, his dreams, everything that he has always been.

The blue that Yuuri skates is soft, it’s the warmth of his smile when Yuuko teases them over their warm-up music, it’s the small blue flowers at Yuu-topia, the way Yuuri flops back on his bed, his arms spread out, just before someone calls him for something.

Viktor can see Yuuri’s quiet reflections in the way he jumps, as though compulsory figures have brought this out in him.

He’s beautiful, he’s himself, and nothing else, and that, is what’s captivating.

When he skates, Viktor can’t even find himself to care about Yuuri’s fingers, touching the ice, and he knows he should. He knows that Yakov would’ve stopped him, would’ve sent him back to the start of his program.

This is the Yuuri Viktor had fallen so in love with. The pieces, every single one, they all come together, and the program, even the buzz Yuuri feels afterward, it leaves him breathless. With Barcelona, it’s almost like Yuuri has left it behind.

He knows better than to think that. Viktor knows that Yuuri still has his mask, that it surfaces every time his anxiety tries to coat him in bright, fluorescent blues. Viktor takes to scheduling practice whenever Yakov and Yuri aren’t there. He locks the rink, even the observation room.

Being invited to see such vulnerability, to such truth, as a coach and a fiance, it feels like Yuuri has more than just his heart.

Viktor thinks of Worlds, how Yuuri will crush him and Yurio with a smile and a soft laugh.

He kicks up into a flip and follows through with the rest of his choreography-- soft three turn, think of Yuuri when he skates figures. Viktor slips out of his routine with a spin, stealing the essence of Stammi Vicino, only he doesn’t force the turns tighter. He lets himself spin out of it and crouches there, on the ice.

It’s always missing something so integral, so unexplainable and necessary that it leaves Viktor feeling discouraged.

He isn’t even aware of Yuuri’s presence until he sneezes and Viktor finds himself on his feet again, skating around the rink through the soft build of the gentle Russian waltz he has selected. Yuuri usually sits up towards the top of the rink, in the shadow of the observation box.

Viktor tries not to let the aggressive competitor inside of him take over. The feeling that comes with Yuuri and knowing that Yuuri is watching him, is enough for him to ruin the take-off of a quad flip and turn it into a messy ‘floop’.

He lands cleanly, keeps him moving, shaky, almost, and it’s enough to ruin whatever he had been trying to accomplish. He skates out of it, lazily circling around and filling the second half of the music with what Yakov would consider a waste of time and what Viktor thinks of as a time to reflect.

The music shifts to something far more melancholy and heartbreaking, a lone violin calling out to a duet, one that never follows. The orchestra swells beneath, the soft hum of winds. It reminds Viktor of Yuuri when he skates figures, a shade of icy pale blue, bordering into a hazy lilac.

“What were you thinking of?” Yuuri asks, and his voice nearly startles Viktor half to death.

The song ends and Viktor skates to the boards to stop it, but Yuuri is already there, pausing it from playing the Russian waltz again.

“The flip?”

Yuuri shakes his head, he’s smiling in a way that tells Viktor he already knows. “Before that, before you came out of your combo spin.”

“I wasn’t.” Viktor’s answer is honest, because he wasn’t thinking at all, and Yuuri frowns at that, just a little. “I was… I don’t know, feeling?”

“What were you feeling?”

Viktor lets the ice carry him back just a little. “This.” He says simply, and its too much to explain with any of the words he knows in any language. “You.” He says in a small breath of air.

Yuuri is leaning against the boards now, Eros is slipping from him, leaking to the ice and puddling somewhere at his shadow. “Me?”

“No, katsudon.” Viktor answers, and it’s impossible not to smile as he puts more distance between them. He looks at the ice and it’s hard not to think about everything that they’ve gone through, all that they’ve overcome in such a short amount of time.

The Yuuri that’s watching him is so different from the Yuuri that approached him. He’s soft and gentle, but knows when not to be. Yuuri isn’t delicate, not with him, he’s no longer the electric blue costumes and ties he had tried so desperately to hide behind. The mask of Eros Yuuri is even misplaced. The confidence, the Yuuri from Yuuri on ice, with all of his potential and ability, his boldness and charm not entirely feigned... that Yuuri is watching him.

He’s the soft blue of a forest in winter, the soft dying sun against the bright snow and bitter cold. Yuuri is the Neva River reflecting St. Petersburg’s sparkling beauty. He’s sunlight in the long winter days of darkness and darkness in the bright summer nights. He’s home, and somehow, he always has been.

Viktor has just never known to look for him.

He’s not aware that he’s fallen into figures like Yuuri does until the gentle music of his waltz disappears, replaced with Stammi Vicino. Viktor is even less aware of the fact that Yuuri is on the ice with him until he feels Yuuri take his hand and pull him through one of the careful loops he's carved into the ice with his skates.

The smile Yuuri gives him, the peace it fills him with--

all of it is blue.

#yuri on ice #yuri on ice fanfic #yuuri katsuki #victuuri #viktor nikiforov #mine

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fifteenleads · 5 years

Text

The Gift

Written for the @yoilitmag (Third Issue).

Drip.

Drip. Drip.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Yuuri tried to ignore the saliva trickling down his shoulder that only he could feel. One’s first instinct would usually be to jump away from the source of the disgusting matter - or scream, whichever came first. He certainly did, as a child, but no one really understood him.

That said, though, Yuuri never really had a normal childhood.

It was unnerving, to say the least, how he even got used to all this in the first place-- that is to say, he never did. He remembered how he could only sit dully on the floor as his mother cried and begged the temple priest to “please exorcise the living demons out of this child” while hugging him so tight, he thought he’d lose his own living breath instead.

Not a good memory to look back on.

He’d learned to keep quiet in middle school - certainly no one would think any better of a plain, bespectacled boy who could see… things he shouldn’t see. Back then, he was called a handful of names, each as hurtful as the other. Crying only made things worse; besides, the “things,” for some reason, enjoyed seeing him in tears.

By high school, Yuuri was practically nonexistent in his class, aside from the occasional rumor that he was a ghost and that he could curse people - funny how their assumptions were both correct and far off at the same time. He whiled away his time in the library, studying the creatures that bothered him and using what he learned to his advantage. He had always been an observant boy; adapting came easier to him than to most.

Still, he wished he didn’t have this “gift.” Not that wishes ever came true, anyway.

Sighing, Yuuri finished his water in a few gulps and put the glass down with a heavy thud. The startled black blob with a single eye distanced itself before letting out an unnaturally high-pitched squeal, which he pretended not to notice. These types tended to leave him after five minutes of no attention.

He asked for the bill after that.

Researching Russia’s yokai sounded like a good idea right now. It always helped to be prepared.

The rusalka did not at all resemble its likeness in pictures.

For starters, it was a male, albeit with long hair. Looked like a female, but not quite.

The first thing Yuuri thought as he ran away was that he shouldn’t have consulted Wikipedia in the first place.

In his twenty-three years of life, he’d never had the unpleasant experience of turning people down, even more so nonhuman beings that are apparently after his heart. He remembered Takeshi joking about what he’d do if he ended up with a yokai lover someday. Yuuri couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly at the brief memory; Takeshi and Yuuko were the only two people who even befriended him at all. Good people, they really were.

This predicament, he thought next, must have been his punishment for not having been a more sociable person. Maybe he should have confessed to Victor Nikiforov or something when he had the chance - he didn’t know.

The third thing he thought as he fell on the pavement and the rusalka pounced on him was that he was going to die. A relief in itself, but not quite.

None of it was.

A cool breeze awakened Yuuri from his slumber. He instinctively put an arm over his eyes; even the faintest light hurt. As he gingerly sat himself up on the grass, the claw marks on his forearm began to itch.

The creature after his life was gone for now, at least. Great.

It didn’t take him long to regain his bearings; granted, he always had to keep himself on guard for so long now, it was almost as easy as feeding himself.

Yuuri was not prepared for what came next, however.

Before him stood what seemed to look like an old two-storey dacha with slate roof tiles and a varnished wood exterior, surrounded by a well-maintained garden of white flowers. A wooden door with iron lattice-work served as the main entrance. The whole sight was very much out of place, located smack dab in between various high-rise apartments for some reason.

It felt as if he stepped into a totally different dimension, altogether.

Yuuri carefully approached the house, peering into the windows apprehensively. It was only after ascertaining that no one was in that he let himself in.

The interior smelled of a mixture of old wood and light mildew, the kind that reminded him of the local temple back at home. As he ventured deeper inside, he was greeted by the sight of circular shelves of books, with sunlight filtering through a dome made of stained glass. It was eerily quiet, yet comforting at the same time.

Maybe too quiet.

Following his best judgment, Yuuri slowly backed away once more. If past experience has taught him well, it wouldn’t do to stay too long in suspicious places alone.

As he turned around to leave, he bumped into something warm.

Victor Nikiforov stared back, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement. Long, silver hair reflected the pale sunlight, and his clothes, though unusually shabby, looked as if they glittered like gold.

Yuuri instantly forgot how to breathe.

“Where exactly am I?”

“A library, as you can see. Not an ordinary one, though, as you’ve probably guessed.”

This is definitely not how Yuuri imagined how his first conversation with Victor would go. He’d only seen the Russian star once or twice on TV during the last Winter Games, but for some reason, Victor was the last person he thought of before he ended up in this… situation.

“Are you really… Victor?”

This earned a chuckle in response, and the dimple that formed when he smiled was adorable. “Yes and no. Do I look like him to you?”

With an audible gulp, Yuuri nodded.

“Then I am Victor.”

Victor - or whoever this was, smiled warmly at him. “Why this person?”

The question, spoken in Victor’s voice, from Victor’s own lips, was nothing short of strange, to say the least. The resemblance was definitely more than striking, it was like he was exactly the same person. For Yuuri, however, this did not explain anything.

After a moment of contemplation, Victor laughed heartily. “I see. You must be fond of him.”

Yuuri promptly choked on his water, heat rising in his cheeks.

“Say, Yuuri,” Victor pronounced his name in a gentle croon, “tell me more about yourself.”

Yuuri found himself leaving from university much earlier than usual these days. The traffic was much less than during rush hour, leaving him with more time to explore the city. He’d get off a stop before his apartment every time, taking a shortcut through the park.

The library waited for him every time he emerged from the forest, looking the same as it did when he first arrived. So did Victor, with cups of tea in hand and a fond smile on his lips.

Yuuri at once noticed how no creatures dared to approach him whenever he was in the vicinity of the library. Rather, it was as if he ceased to be able to see them during these times. The relief he felt at this was indescribable, as if the walls around him were taken down and he could breathe freely once more.

“You have that gift, it seems,” Victor once told him in observation. “One that attracts the fae and their favors to you. As with most things, it is both a blessing and a curse.”

It was not at all surprising, Yuuri thought, considering how often he attracted trouble and found himself in problematic, even life-threatening situations for as long as he could remember. Still, he was glad things turned out this way, what with all of it leading up to meeting and spending time with one of his favorite people this often.

He was painfully aware that this was not Victor Nikiforov, but still. Still.

A couple of weeks passed, and Yuuri started spending all-nighters in the library doing his homework. Dinner was always a hearty experience, even with just the two of them exchanging stories over piping hot soup and meat pies. It was evident how much Victor enjoyed having someone around after so long, having expressed as much to Yuuri one night over fruit and wine.

“Twenty-three is quite a small number, if you ask me. You still have a lot to learn.”

“You’re not much older, either, Victor.”

“At least I’m young and handsome. I’ll miss looking like this after you stop coming here.”

And it pained Yuuri to see the longing in those blue eyes, but he knew that this, too, will soon end.

Still, he wished it never would. Not that wishes ever came true, anyway.

He was terribly, painfully aware of that.

One day, Victor gave Yuuri an old picture book.

It was a thin, hard-bound copy of what seemed like an old Russian fairy tale, if the colorful phoenix was of any indication. Yuuri began to untie the straw cord that was wrapped around it, but Victor immediately seized his hand.

“Don’t open it yet,” he said, a bit too firmly than what Yuuri was used to. He caught himself quickly, however, immediately loosening his grip.

“It’s a surprise, Yuuri,” he added, with a forced smile. And as if that weren’t cryptic enough: “Promise me.”

The look in Victor’s eyes pleaded with Yuuri to not ask. It hurt so much.

“... Okay, I guess. But how do I know?”

“Trust me, you’ll know when.”

Yuuri often recalled this moment, as Victor suddenly became more distant from him. They still spent time together every day, but fewer and fewer words were exchanged between them, until everything blurred into a massive cloud of awkward silence.

The book-- Victor’s gift, remained their sole connection to each other. It was constantly by his side, reminding him of the friendship they had. The day he’d gotten it felt like it only happened yesterday, and he would regret--

Even though he promised not to open it.

Blinking back his tears, Yuuri excused himself, asking to go home.

He saw, too, in the way Victor’s blue eyes were dark and hazy, how much this hurt him-- both of them. But he wanted to believe, still. There had to be a reason.

It came the next day, unexpectedly, when Yuuri found an empty lot where the library used to stand.

Yuuri didn’t know how long he had been asleep for. His body felt unusually exhausted for some reason, and it felt as if he’d forgotten something for the day. Nothing in his apartment was out of place, however, and the trash had already been brought out.

He can’t even remember what he had been crying about.

He decided to get food, just in case.

Every step he took away from the building felt heavy, and a voice repeatedly echoed in his mind to return home. He did not heed it, deeming himself far past the stage of fearing monsters at his age.

There are no monsters, Yuuri told himself, before moving on.

It did not assuage the unease in his heart at all.

Something-- something , nagging at the back of his mind--

No sooner had he exited the bakery than the ground shook beneath his feet, causing him to lose balance and fall hard on his back. The few people left on the street started running for cover, one of whom dropped a handful of silver coins that rolled to where he lay. The resulting reflection of lights blinded Yuuri, and for a moment he thought he saw an old house on fire, a flash of silver hair--

“Forgive me.”

The bread rolls Yuuri bought joined the coins on the floor, dirtied and forgotten.

Yuuri’s lungs burned painfully, the need for oxygen rapidly overtaking the fatigue in his legs. But he ran, still, as far as his legs would take him. He didn’t know where he was headed, but his body seemed to remember where to go.

There was somewhere-- someone he needed to be with.

And he was close-- very, terribly close--

He finally collapsed on the pavement before a seemingly-empty lot, where a dilapidated, empty house burned brightly between rows of apartments. Heavy chains clinked in the distance, as if being dragged, growing louder by the second.

The last thing Yuuri heard is his name being shouted in agony before his world turned black.

“--uri! Yuuri! Wake up!”

Yuuri was vigorously shaken awake by firm hands and an panicked voice, claws digging deep into his shoulders. The air around him was hot, and the sky blackened with thick smoke.

Without warning, he found himself being pulled away by another set of claws much longer than the first. He is greeted by a large, humanoid creature with long, stringy hair, a scarred, blackened face, and pointed teeth.

“Mine,” it hissed. “You’re mine.”

The rusalka .

It had come back to take his life.

Yuuri’s eyed promptly widened in terror. He was going to die this time, for real.

All of a sudden, everything came rushing back-- the creatures, the house, Victor--

Suddenly, as if an answer to his unsaid prayer, chains were wrapped around the rusalka’s neck, causing it to fall to the ground as it gasped for breath. The first set of arms wrapped themselves around him, and there was Victor again, crying on his shoulder.

“Yuuri… Yuuri…”

Still bewildered, Yuuri raised a hand to gently stroke Victor’s hair. It was not the thick, shiny, perfectly maintained mane that he once knew from before-- that is to say, there was none. His face was that of an older man’s, with multiple wrinkles and scars, and pointed ears akin to those of elven folk. Only the voice it produced was that of Victor’s, Yuuri realized.

But how, he wanted to ask. He did not understand.

“ Domovoy, ” Victor spoke, as if sensing Yuuri’s confusion. “In a sense, I am what you’d call a household god, similar to your country’s zashiki-warashi .”

“I was supposed to protect this library at all costs. But I was weak.” Victor laughs dejectedly, tears running down his aged eyes. “I couldn’t prevent this from happening. I couldn’t protect you.”

Yuuri bit his lip, slowly putting everything together. “You knew it was coming back. So you sent me away.”

“Oh, who knows?” Victor’s hold on Yuuri suddenly weakened, his strength finally leaving him.

“Victor!”

“No, Yuuri, listen to me.” Victor looked up at him, his ocean blue ones clearer than ever despite his appearance. “You are strong. You know this. Think of everything you’ve been through.

“Stop talking, please!”

“Those hardships you’ve been through-- don’t let it go to waste. Only you can decide what to make of them.”

Yuuri did not respond anymore, cradling Victor’s form in his trembling arms. Smiling, Victor produced a worn, rusted band, placing it into the center of Yuuri’s palm. “A remembrance of me?”

It was very much like him, Yuuri thought, charming until the last moment. He might have loved Victor-- this domovoy , he realized. Was it because he was Victor, or was it something else? Why did all this happen?

Yuuri wept silently as everything faded away, and he was left there, all alone.

He’d never know now.

A year passed in the blink of an eye.

Everyone was surprised at how much more outgoing Yuuri had now become. Minako had been the most shocked, immediately attributing the change to a newfound boyfriend.

“But I don’t have one, Minako- sensei .”

“Then explain that ring on your finger,” she accused. “You don’t just suddenly get an ancient heirloom like that from anywhere. Now spill.”

Had Takeshi known of this, too, he wouldn’t ever hear the end of it. Funny really, how things turned out. Victor certainly would laugh.

“It’s… a charm,” he settled on saying. “From someone I got to know.”

“Hmmmm,” Minako nodded slowly, unconvinced. This Yuuri did not deign to reply. It was, after all, a part-truth, in his defense. He noted how he isn’t able to see the creatures ever since he had it in his possession. It was as if Victor had set him free, in a way.

The ring, although very important in itself, was not as close to his heart as Minako thought.

Once she finally left him alone, Yuuri brought out the old picture book from his bag. Its cover had lost much of its shine over the past year, and its pages have slowly become tattered. He flipped through each page slowly, tears brimming in his eyes.

A story was written on it, in Yuuri’s own handwriting.

It took him half a year to get over everything that had happened, before he finally decided it was time to read the book Victor had given him. It was all blank paper, save for the first page, on which were written: “Once upon a time.”

It was his second most precious treasure.

Meeting Victor was the first.

He was the gift that changed Yuuri’s life.

#yuri!!! on ice #yoilitmag #katsuki yuuri #victor nikiforov #magus bride OVA AU

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yoiinchi33 · 5 years

Text

You've Got a Line On Me

This is intended as a moment between episodes four and five at the end of the “summer of pining”.

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

"Good, Yuuri!" Minako called as the dancer took his last step and stilled in the middle of the studio. Yuuri panted, his brow wet with sweat. He turned and bowed to Minako. "I'm happy to see you've been keeping up with your dancing." Yuuri smiled. He found it a wonderful way to work through some of the emotional turmoil that simmered in him. He looked forward to his time with Minako today, as lately those emotions were past the point of simmering and verging on boiling.

"Thank you, Minako Sensei."

"I'm surprised Victor let you go on your own today..." Minako mused aloud, "you two have grown very close since he came here."

Yuuri nodded, but said nothing. He knew many in Hasetsu secretly assumed there was something deeper between him and the Russian. They trained together, ate together, even bathed together in the onsen after dinner. When they were out in the city, Victor never left his side. So maybe they were on to something.

"Victor's coming here when he's done with some other work. We're grabbing lunch. If you'd like to join us, you're welcome."

"Thanks, Yuuri. And as much as I want to find out just how big a Yuuri Katsuki fan he is..." she lifted an eyebrow playfully. Yuuri blushed, "I have to mind the store downstairs." The instructor's phone rang-an alarm marking the end of practice. "I have to go, but you can stay and wait for your Victor to come. Just lock up after, ok?" Yuuri blushed a deeper red at Minako calling Victor 'his'.

"Hai. Thank you, Minako," Yuuri bowed. As Minako left the studio, Yuuri paused to let that phrase roll around in his head.

'My Victor'

There was some truth to it. He had Victor's full attention, and almost all of Victor's time since he stepped foot in Yu-topia. Time that Yuuri still wasn't sure he deserved. He turned and looked at himself in the mirror, critical eyes gliding from the tousled hair pasted to his forehead, down across the rest of him. Ordinary. Plain. Victor was here for Yuuri, but Yuuri couldn't understand why. It was still possible Victor would find out there really was nothing extraordinary about the skater-no reason to stay-and would leave. He felt he had to consider the possibility, as unpleasant as it was-had to prepare for it. His shoulders fell. His gaze lowered. "I've been so lucky," Yuuri thought to himself, "to have the time I have with Victor now. I need to make the most of it. If I work hard enough, improve enough, maybe I can convince him to stay?"

Yuuri glanced at the clock. Victor would be there soon, but he had the studio to himself for a while longer, so he loaded up another song, hit play and moved to the center of the room.

His first moves were slow. Deliberate. The beginning of the song depicted a struggle. Possibly a loss or sorrow. Like 'Stammi' was to Victor, this music seemed to share a similar desperate plea and Yuuri moved with it. The sway of the music's tune swept the dancer up and carried him along. Soon he was so wrapped up in the song that he failed to notice Victor let himself in and was standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and still.

Yuuri reflected on the time he and Victor shared. Recently, he suspected the relationship they had was growing into something far more intimate then coach and student. Was it love? Yuuri wasn't sure. It felt like a rope was binding him to Victor now. The further away Victor was, the tighter and more painful the knot around Yuuri clenched. The closer, the more it eased. No matter how hard Victor pushed him on the ice or personally, being together was always better than being apart. On this realization, his brows scrunched together in a concerned frown. The song swung into a gentle crescendo, conveying hope and promise of brighter things. Yuuri drank it in. He hoped he and Victor still had more time, hoped that he would still be good enough at the end, hoped that Victor felt the same way back?

Fear started tainting that hope. His anxiety certainly knew when to strike. As the music ended its slow last phrase, Yuuri halted-facing away from Victor. He wrapped his arms around himself and clung tightly as if to crush the insecurity inside.

"How do you DO that, Yuuri?" Yuuri jumped in place and, eyes on the mirror, caught Victor's reflection. He spun around to face the older man. "Victor, I-" Yuuri began, but Victor was already across the room in long impatient strides and gathered Yuuri up in a big hug.

"That was magnificent."

"Victor, I'm all sweaty..." Yuuri mumbled against Victor's chest.

"Don't care."

The rope slackened. Yuuri snaked his hands around Victor.

"Thank you, Victor," A small smile tugged at Yuuri's lips, "how much did you see?"

"Not enough." Victor said, loosening his grip enough to gaze at his student. Yuuri blushed a bright red as he pulled away and went to turn the stereo off.

"Where are you going?" Victor asked.

"To get my stuff. We're getting lunch now, right?" Yuuri turned to face Victor again, his brows furrowed as he saw Victor shuck off his coat and toss it in a corner of the studio.

"Sure...but I want to try something first. Queue the music back up. The song you just had on." Yuuri tilted his head to the left. What did Victor want to 'try'? Victor chuckled in response and said, "Go on...restart the music. Then, come back to the center with me." Yuuri turned and restarted the music. The soft notes carrying their way across the studio again. Victor told him to start dancing the way he did before, and took a step back. Keeping his eyes on Victor, he began to move. Victor stayed still until the chelo came in, and he began to mirror Yuuri's choreography. When Yuuri moved to the center of the floor, Victor came in also to meet him, occasionally their hands would touch briefly before swinging away.

Now that he was paying more attention to the movements he was making, it seemed like his body took the rope metaphor literally. During the sadder parts of the song, they were on opposite ends of the studio, facing away. On the more hopeful strains, they moved together, in the center, facing each other.

A touch here, a glance there...

"You're telling a story Yuuri," Victor said quietly, "it's one of struggle, and hope that at the other end you will find peace. You feel a pull-like an invisible force-to another. The farther away you are, the more pain-the more heartache. The closer you get..." they once again moved to the center, but lingered as Yuuri waited for Victor to finish his thought. Instead, Victor cupped Yuuri's cheek in his hand and slowly drew his thumb across it in a caress. "...the more comfort and hope. You struggle to get ever closer...just a little bit closer..." Victor's face briefly betrayed a hidden longing as he gazed into Yuuri's eyes.

Yuuri froze. Eyes widening. He couldn't hear the music anymore over his heart thumping in his ears. Victor's hand was warm and dry and soft. Soothing. Instinctively Yuuri leaned in to the touch for a moment, before remembering himself and moving away, his eyes going from Victor's face to his chest. The music ended and cloaked the room in silence.

"Yuuri, do you know it's very easy to tell when there's something on your mind?" Yuuri again met Victor's eyes, "Care to share?"

An eternity of silence spread over three ticks of the clock on the wall. Victor cocked an eyebrow. The dancer took a deep breath as if inhaling courage from the outside air.

"I...uh..." Yuuri stammered, the words just on the edge of his tongue would fall right out if his mind gave them a nudge, "I think I..."

love you, Victor.

"It's just us here, Yuuri," so close. He wanted to tell Victor. Say it. Get it out of his head. Maybe he never would, but he desperately wanted to express how he felt to the man he'd thought about every day for the past ten years. The silver-haired Russian who was looking at him that way, with those penetrating eyes.

"I don't...don't..."

want to let you go. Ever.

His hands suddenly warm, Yuuri looked down at Victor's hands holding his, gently rubbing circles with his thumbs. It felt right, like the world clicked into place when they were together. Being alone with Victor. Holding hands. Dancing with him and skating with him every day. But he knew in the back of his mind it couldn't last. The grand prix final-that was the expiration date on this relationship. His eyes closed and brow furrowed tightly in a vain attempt to force those thoughts away.

For now, he wanted to enjoy their time together.

"Victor..." Yuuri said, forcing his eyes to meet the Russian's patient blues. Victor simpered. Yuuri pulled his hands away and wrapped them around Victor's body, pressing his face into Victor's chest.

"I'm really glad you're here...that you'd...that you came all this way. F-for me..." It wasn't what Yuuri really wanted to say, but he figured he'd find a way to tell Victor someday, maybe.

Victor gasped, taken by surprise by the sudden affection, but chuckled and squeezed Yuuri back. "Oh Yuuri...", it may have been Yuuri's imagination but it seemed Victor's voice became wobbly for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued, "...I only wish we could have met sooner." Yuuri melted into Victor's embrace, savoring the warmth he found there for a few moments until he pulled back. Victor reached a hand out to Yuuri's chin and guided it up to face his.

Victor's eyes had a playful glint to them as he said, "But hey, now we have the rest of our lives to get to know each other better, yes?"

The rest of our lives?! Did he really mean that? Yuuri nodded his head and laughed, "Yeah!" How did Victor know just what to say to ease Yuuri's mind?

"And no better time to start than now," Victor released Yuuri and moved to grab his coat, "so Yuuri, what I want to know now is...where do YOU want to go for lunch?"

#victuuri #viktuuri #yoi #yuri on ice

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joeys-piano · 5 years

Text

Meet Me where I Am

“I’ve never known myself, as well, unless I’m with you.”

Though the shift was subtle, Viktor felt a hint of a squeeze around his hand when he glanced at Yuuri from the corner of his eye. For a moment there, he had heard Yuuri’s voice. But when he saw the glint of the sunset in beloved’s eyes and the slight part to his lips, it looked like Yuuri hadn’t said anything at all. As if what Viktor had heard was nothing more than a projection from his imagination. Even then, he couldn’t say he was convinced when he squeezed Yuuri’s hand. In these past two years they had shared – if Viktor couldn’t discern reality from a daydream, he wouldn’t know if his beloved was really here with him. Though there was no need for him to worry, not with Yuuri holding onto him tightly as a reminder that this was all real.

“I’m sorry.” With his toes buried in the sand, Viktor leaned closer to Yuuri so he could hear him better. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then Viktor’s bangs were the curtains when they shifted to the side. His soul was bare for Yuuri’s gaze, alone. “Could you repeat that?”

At its brightest, Yuuri’s smile could reflect the light of the sun when he saw no one, but himself, in Viktor’s eyes. “What I said was…“

Above the shoreline, two seagulls danced past each other in mid-flight before a feather twirled back to the beach. Where the feather fell, neither Yuuri nor Viktor were aware. As if stars were descending from the sun, they were lost in each other’s kiss.

#yuri on ice #YoI #viktor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #viktuuri #victuuri #two loving dorks walking along the warm sand and they steal a kiss from each other #ain't that romantic?#i haven't written anything for YoI in a looong time so be gentle with me on this #i wanted to write a quiet scene for them

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deripmaver · 5 years

Note

💉 drugged (for the whumpy prompts)

~3000 words, Victuuri

Additional tags/warnings: Omegaverse, brief Victor/Other, Victorian era, neither yuuri nor victor do the drugging lol, mentions of prostitution

See if you can guess what kind of AU this is ;D

Fog rolls in overthe streets of the East End, over the cold, empty shipyards andpockmarked pavement. The dirty gas lamps shine eerily upon it, fadedrings of light that keep the dark cloaked figures in shadow.

It’s the kindof fog that chills down to the bones, the kind that demands a cozynight in, a book read by warm lamplight – which is the kind ofevening Victor Nikiforov had intended to enjoy, but then-

He shakes hishead, long, silver hair falling in ghostly cascades down his back. Hehasn’t put in the normal effort, dressed himself up to the normaldegree of perfection, for his job tonight, but that hardly mattersnow. His job is what’s put him in this situation in thefirst place.

The conversationstill echoes in his head, painful like the clanging church bells thatwake him up in the morning, like a subtle punishment from on high.

Anger flashesthough him, sharp as the surgeon’s scalpel, and he grips his chestas though that’ll stop the pain of it.

How dare Yuuri,when he was the only one who had bothered to help him – a pooryoung immigrant, lost and alone in a dangerous part of town as thesun began to sink below the horizon. A newcomer from Japan, one ofperhaps three omegas admitted to medical school in London, and Victorhad taken him in for the night, given him comfort and a bed and a hotmeal-!

When he hadhelped Yuuri, remembering how hard to was when he had arrived allthose years ago, barely speaking the language, taken in by a plumpomega woman who expected him to work for his room and board.

The anger is goneas quickly as it came, though, and in its stead all Victor feels isexhaustion, a dull ache. He slumps back against the dank wall,resting upon a stack of boxes.

“Ah, Yuuri!” Victor cooes,“You are making friends! I am so happy for you.”

Yuuri fidgets, bright red, staringback at the retreating forms of his classmates – at thedisapproving curl of their lips. The only other omegas in theprogram, Victor knows, and not nearly as remarkable as Yuuri. They’rehigh born, their Alpha sire’s pulling strings to get them intomedical school – though Victor figures he can’t complain toomuch, not if they’ll have even a little more empathy when handlingomega anatomy.

“I, ah, actually… Wanted totalk to you about that?” Yuuri mumbles, not meeting Victor’sgaze.

Victor frowns. The others aregone, now, and though he can still feel their disapproval, it’sbeen a long time since he worried what other people thought of him.

“Yes?”

Yuuri swallows. He’s very red,his hands are shaking in the way they do when he’s too afraid tosay something directly.

“They, um,” Yuuri begins,“It’s been – it’s been hard for me. I never really fit in,here, it took everyone so long to realize I even spoke English –I,” he pauses, “There are only a few other foreign students, andthey’re all alphas, and they want nothing to do with me. Now, theother omegas will sometimes allow me their companionship, but theystill see me as so different from them.”

“Yuuri,” Victor says, slowly,“What are you trying to say?”

Yuuri swallows. When he speaks, itsounds as though he’s carefully considered every single word. “Howdo you feel about me coming to visit you, only? And in the east end?”

Victor feels like Yuuri haspunched him in the gut. Still, his voice is steady as he responds,“You don’t want to be seen with me.”

“It’s not that,” Yuurimumbles. Lies. “They just don’t understand you – like theydon’t understand me, and I don’t want them to think-”

“Think what?” Victor hisses,cutting him off, “Think that you might actually like me? That youwould willingly spend time with a-”

“Victor, don’t,” Yuuripleads, putting his fingers over Victor’s trembling lips. A few ofthe pedestrians’ eyes flit to them as they walk past, a fewscholars look up from their books, outside the university library.

Victor laughs, angry,hurt, cruel. “Why not? I’d wager I’ve had half these alphas inmy bed, or their fathers, at least. They know who I am. I know who Iam, and I’m not ashamed of it. I didn’t become the most soughtafter whore in all of the east end, all of bloody Londonby being a coward. Not like you.”

Yuuri steps back.He’s trembling all over, his eyes fill with frustrated tears, andfor a moment Victor regrets everything he’s said – he wants totake it all back, to take Yuuri into his arms, to say it’s alright,whatever he wants, so long as they can stay friends.

He can’t, though.He won’t. Yuuri is the first person who has looked past what he didat night, who wasn’t a sneering high-born omega or a lustful alphafull of superficial flattery and a wife at home, who saw dog-loving,literate, sensitive Victor.

And now. Anotherdisappointment.

Yuuri whispers, “Thenail that sticks up gets hammered down. That’s what they said to meat home, when I didn’t just want to bond and breed for a richfamily. It’s what I’ve been fighting my entire life, and I’m sotired. I’m not saying this to push you away from me-”

“And yet,” Victorsnaps, “You’ve succeeded.”

Yuuri’s mouth snapsshut. He looks down, picking at the threadbare sleeves of his dress,lips trembling like he was terrified that this might have been theoutcome. Yuuri still can’t wear English fashion comfortably, it’sclear in the way he stands, awkwardly, how he pulls at the starchedcollar of his dress.

“They’ll throwyou away, Yuuri,” Victor says, knowing the cruelty of his words.“When you’re not poised enough, when your accent isn’t rightenough, when they pick away the veneer and see something inside youthey don’t like.”

Yuuri doesn’tspeak. He stares at the ground, worrying his lower lip, tinted pinkwith the lipstick his new friends likely insisted he wear.

“Don’t do that,”Victor whispers, before he can stop himself. “You’ll just makeyourself bleed.”

Yuuri stares at him,eyes impossibly wide, watery with unshed tears. “I don’t thinkyou’re a whore.”

Victor steps back. Hesighs, hating how he understands why Yuuri doesn’t want to be seenwith him, hating how much it still hurtsto be rejected like this. “But,” he says, softly, “I am. Andeveryone knows it. And you don’t want to be seen with… Withsomeone like me.”

Yuuri still doesn’tsay anything. Victor knows him, knows he’s upset, knows that thegears of his mind are turning faster than his tongue can catch up –but Victor’s afraid, too, afraid to hear Yuuri say that he’sdisapproved of him this whole time, but was simply too polite to sayso.

He turns, so Yuurican’t see the tears that well up in his own eyes, and says curtly,“Perhaps you shouldn’t come by this Friday evening. I wish youthe best, Yuuri.”

“Vitya!Surprised to see you out tonight – it’s been a while since you’veworked a Friday.”

Victorsighs, looking to the side. “Needed the extra money,” he says,clipped. He really doesn’t want to talk to Chris, not tonight.Chris knows about Yuuri, and he’ll be damned if anyone is going toget any information about Yuuri’s absence from him. “I’m goingto take a walk.”

Chrisfrowns. “Are you sure? Me and some of the others are in a groupover by the pub. Just to be safe, we don’t know if he’s out theretonight.”

“I’llbe fine,” Victor mumbles, waving him away. He doesn’t have theenergy to think about him tonight.

Chrislooks like he might object, so Victor turns on his heel and wandersalong the docks, past rowdy pubs and shivering omegas with theirskirts rucked up. They huddle together for warmth and safety, staringat the alphas intently as one of them gets picked off, taken to aback alley or their rooms for a quick fuck.

Someone’sbehind him. Victor whirls around, staring at him hard, unable to stophis body from tensing – but it’s just an alpha, with dark browneyes and a tweed suit, weighted down with a heavy bag of something.

“VictorNikiforov,” the alpha breathes, “The loveliest whore in all ofLondon. What luck that I happened to run into you tonight.”

Victordoesn’t respond to that. He certainly doesn’t feel likethe loveliest whore in all of London – he feels like a washed-outrag, fraying with overuse, a stone’s through from being tossed outwith the day’s rubbish.

Rejected.

“Imust say,” the alpha continues, “You look even lovelier inperson. The way your hair reflects the moonlight, the soft white ofyour skin.”

Hereaches out, softly, hesitantly. Victor feels himself lean in alittle closer, letting the praise wash over him. The alpha toucheshis cheek tenderly, like he’s made of porcelain, his thumb pressingjust a bit harder as he caresses down to the pouting pink of hislips.

“Youtruly could be a porcelain doll,” the alpha whispers. “The jewelof anyone’s collection.”

Anyone but Yuuri’s,Victor thinks, bitterly.

“Thejewel of yours, perhaps?” Victor says, coquettish, batting hispainted lashes prettily.

Thealpha grins, wide and toothy, smelling of mint and tobacco andsomething sharp. “Oh, youhave no idea how much I desire you.”

Victorfights the urge to roll his eyes. He’s heard that dozens of times,each one as superficial as the last.

“Shallwe?” The alpha purrs, releasing his scent into the air. It doesnothing for Victor, not like Yuuri’s, so sweet, like the scent ofpure sunshine – but it always makes the alphas feel better to dothis. Victor releases some of his in return, lazily, and is surprisedwhen the alpha’s pants don’t tent immediately.

Apparentlyhis flattery was just that. Victor normally wouldn’t even entertainthis man – his suit is cheap, the leather of his back peeling andcrackling with age. He has such high standards for his clients, now,requires luxury and money upfront, requires sweet wine and tender kisses.

Hestill stings from Yuuri’s rejection, though. He’s ashamed howmuch he appreciated the tender touches, the sweet words, how hisspirits rose just that little bit from the compliments. It might bevanity, but Victor has always been sensitive. He had little choicebut to become a prostitute, and it’s only now that he gets anypleasure from it, since the shower of praise from his clientsoutweighs the condemnation from the rest of the world.

Victortakes the alpha’s gloved hand and leads him back to his apartment.

Thealpha is quiet as he touches him, peeling the layers and layers offhis body with surgical precision. Victor bats his eyes and bites hislip, letting his silver hair cascade down his body tantalizingly.Each warm kiss against hiscollarbone and throat sends pangs of sensation down his body.

“What’syour name?”

Thealpha doesn’t answer, lipswet and sloppy all over Victor’s chin and cheeks.This time Victor actually does roll his eyes. Fine, that’s fine. Heprobably has an omega and pups at home and doesn’t want Victor torat him out.

Histeeth graze the smooth expanse of Victor’s neck, hesitating justover his scent gland, his tongue going out to lick lazily at thesensitive spot.

“Don’tyou dare bite,” Victor gasps, feeling a twinge of arousal despitehimself.

Thealpha pulls back, his expression unreadable. Hishands go to Victor’s thighs, slipping just barely beneath his thinshift. Victor smiles, softly, bashfully, hands clasping over thealpha’s.

“Doyou want to take this off of me?” he whispers, breathy.

Thealpha nods, eyes alight with intensity, with fire. Victor pushes upto allow the alpha to pull the shift over his head – then lies backonto his bed, body splayed out and legs spread. He stared, the alpha– he stares, and stares, and Victor feels as though he can barelybreathe,suddenly struck with how the alphais looking at him.

“Whatis your pleasure, sir?” Victor murmurs, running his thin fingersover his bare chest, resting them teasingly on his pink nipple.

“Iwant,” the alpha says, choked, “Let’s play doctor, tonight.”

Yuuri’sface pops into Victor’s head again and he flinches, visibly.

“Ah,”Victor laughs nervously, belaying the pangs in his chest again,“Perhaps – something else? I can be whatever you like –schoolgirl, maidservant-”

“I’mafraid,” the alpha booms, suddenly looming over Victor, thighsclenching around Victor’s hips and holding him still beneath hisbody, “I really must insist.”

Victordoesn’t bother to hide his scowl as the alpha goes to reach intohis bag. In the back of his mind, though, he feels a twinge of fear –play doctor could mean anything from the innocuous digitalpelvic examination to somesadist who wants to use cruel instrumentation to probe inside of him.

He’sbeen in this situation before, though, and despite his slight frame,he is not weak – and in any case, carries a blade just beneath hispillows.

“Turnaround, darling,” the alpha murmurs, kissing the nape of his neck.

Victorrolls onto his stomach, lifting his hips up and wiggling them backand forth. He peers at the alpha, probing into his leather bag.

“Nopeeking,” the alpha teases, touching Victor’s lips.

“I’mafraid,” Victor parrots back at him, trying and failing to hide thebiting note of sarcasm, “I really must insist.”

There’ssilence, stillness. Tension builds, and Victor’s fingers creepcloser to the knife beneath his pillows, a sudden fear pooling in hisgut. He remembers, then Chris’ warning, why it wasn’t wise to beout alone tonight, but surely the brute butchering whores wouldn’tlook so slight-

Thealpha grabs Victor’s long, silver hair, slamming his face down intothe mattress. Victor yelps, fingers shooting out to reach beneath thepillows, and suddenly there is a stabbing, burning pain in the scentgland on his neck.

Victorscreams, hand clenching desperately on the handle of the knife, andhe rips it out and lunges forward-

But.

But,suddenly, the knife is so very heavy in his hands. It’s like lead,dropping heavily, harmlessly onto the mattress, slipping like sandfrom his trembling fingers.

Victorwhimpers, scream cut off, and the sound swims through the air asthough he’s underwater. His hands, so heavy, so weak, come up tohis neck, grasping uselessly around the syringe pumping somethinginto him.

Hetries to push himself off the bed, away from the alpha, watching inamusement as he struggles. His feet his the hard floor, but they’releaden weights, and he tumbles to the ground as the room collapsesaround him.

Tearswell up in Victor’s eyes as he whimpers, pitifully, still trying toremove the syringe from his neck even as his body twitches, naked andvulnerable on the floor.

“I,”he stammers, tongue as heavy as the rest of him, “Wha-”

“Hush,”the alpha soothes, running his fingers through Victor’s hairtenderly, softly, “Hush now, my darling.”

Hethumbs away the tears falling from Victor’s eyes, and his facemorphs and blurs as Victor’s vision goes black.

The killer clearlyhas some kind of medical background, some knowledge of omega anatomy,both male and female.

Yuurihad said that. He was trying to find out who this monster was, tryingto keep Victor safe, and now-

Victor’seyes flutter shut, body limp, useless, save for the frantic,terrified, rabbit pulse of his heart.

Hewasn’t even supposed to be out tonight.

#victuuri #victuuri fanfic #victor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #yuri on ice #yoi fanfic #yoi fic #whumpy prompts #my fic #Anonymous

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