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moonstruck-writing · 3 years ago

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Devoted Attention

Pairing: Yves Kloss x gn!reader | Ikemen Prince

Rating: General

Prompt: Feb 6th - Comparing hand sizes and blushing immediately after

Event: Be my Valentine hosted by @xxsycamore and @chaosangel767

C/W: Modern AU, fluff

Summary: You’ve always admired the beautiful arrangements Yves was able to do with just some hairpins, not to mention the fresh haircuts he could give without even trying.

Maybe the secret was in his fingers and hands?

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: I wanted to write a Modern AU and next thing I know I’m writing about Yves’ dexterity with his hands.

Disclaimer: I haven’t attended hairdressing school, everything written here is just stuff I have gotten from getting my hair cut at a hairdressing school, and bits and pieces from one student’s experiences. Therefore, what it’s written here could be inaccurate.

I hope you enjoy this piece <3

You can’t peel your eyes off of the scissors. The client you’re attending to coughs, and you quickly come back to your senses. Muttering a short apology, you return to the haircut, and you’re competent enough that once you’re done, the teacher deems it unnecessary to make any corrections.

Yes, you think, feeling relief washing over you. Finally, you’ve improved. That doesn’t mean you’re ready to relax, though. Just a glance at the work of your classmate next to you is plenty of proof that you have a long way to go. Yves Kloss, you think to yourself. Even his name is stylish.

“Is there anything funny about the way I cut hair?” His voice shakes you from your trance, and you look from his hands to his face. You really need to stop doing this.

“No, no, I was just observing.”

“Observing?” He raises an eyebrow, and his stare turns a tad icier.

“Yes. To see if there’s anything you do differently, you know?” You glance at the customer’s hair, hoping that’s far enough from him and his hands for you to continue observing.

“I don’t know. I do things as they taught us. There’s nothing special about the way I cut hair.”

“Oh, but there is.”

If you hadn’t gone back to looking at his hands and looked at his face instead, you would’ve seen the faint blush that is now spreading on his cheeks.

“Can you please stop looking? It distracts me.” Yves shakes his head, and his hair caresses his cheekbones.

“Only if you promise I can check something when we’re on a break.”

Check something? About the scissors maybe? He agrees, and you reluctantly move away. It’s a slow day today. Not many people are coming to the hairdressing school to get their hair cut, so you don’t have much to do now that you’re done with your first client. Plus, now that you’re better at it, the teacher is assigning fewer people to you, and focusing on guiding the students who are struggling more. But you’re not satisfied with how you are now. You want to improve even more. That’s why you’ve decided it is vital to learn as much as you can from Yves. He’s one of the best students, after all.

The only people who can cut hair better than he does are the teacher and a couple of more experienced students. And even then, you really don’t think any of them beat him at doing intricate hairstyles. He has a knack for braiding, twisting and securing hair, no matter the length he is working with. You’ve secretly tried to copy his wrist movements when he’s doing a complicated hairstyle, but you keep confusing yourself and by the time you realise, he is almost done.

Trying to busy yourself with something other than staring at Yves’ hands, you decide to sweep the floor and organize some of the tools that are shared by everyone, like the huge albums that have reference photos falling from the inside. Even then, it doesn’t take long before you find yourself catching sight of Yves’ hands from afar.

Maybe if I’m this far away, he won’t notice. But oh, he does notice. Because for some reason, you not being able to take your eyes off of his hands makes him unable to ignore you. He controls your movements out of the corner of his eye and tells himself it’s just because you’re weird, nothing else. Someone being so obsessed with his hands could be dangerous, right? He’s just doing that out of self-preservation. There isn’t any other reason.

When he takes the cloth off of the client and holds a mirror for them to look at the back of their heads, the look of satisfaction they show Yves is automatically mirrored in your face. You never saw any of your fellow students as competition, so whenever someone succeeds, you can be genuinely happy for them. It just means more learning opportunities for you, after all.

“Can you charge the client, please?” The voice of the teacher makes you come back to the present moment. You nod and show them to the entrance, where you begin typing at the cash register.

“Would you like to tip your hairdresser?”

“Oh, sure. May I ask what his name is?”

“It’s Yves.” You bite your lips before you let his surname slip out. Now you know better than that. You still remember when all of you had eagerly given your full names, in hopes of getting some loyal clients for the future, clients who could follow you to other places. It’s just, you expected the other places to be your future workplaces, not your personal social media accounts.

“I’ll make sure to book an appointment with him next time.”

You smile and give them their change.

“Unfortunately, booking a specific person is not possible with our school. You may come and wait for a certain hairdresser to be free, though.”

“Oh, no problem. I’ll come and wait then. I mean, he’s a sight for sore eyes, am I right?”

Suddenly, the smile on your face feels stiff, and you don’t know when it would be polite to drop it. Fortunately, they just wave and leave, while you’re still wondering what the hell you should do with your face.

It’s not the first time something like this happens, but somehow, it still manages to catch you off guard. Yes, your eyesight is good enough to see Yves is what anyone would qualify as beautiful, but you never expect clients to comment on that. You’d like them to say something about the hairstyle he gave them, or how he managed to cut their hair just right, something that has to do with the fact that he is a talented hairdresser, even if he isn’t a professional yet. For you, commenting on something other than his skill is out of the question, so you have no answers to give to their comments.

Especially because you have never thought of him like that. You’re too busy analysing what he does with a comb and a pair of scissors, or with some hairpins and hairbands. There’s literally no space in my brain to start considering other things, okay? At least that’s what you tell yourself because otherwise, you’d feel you cannot stare at him like you do anymore.

“Hey, still on Earth?” You’re still standing next to the cash register when Yves’ voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “I’m going on a break now.”

That’s all he says before he takes his coat and scarf from the hanger and starts walking away and out of the doors, so you stay in place, suddenly feeling like you should give him some space. He turns around and gestures for you to follow him. You quickly mimic him and wrap up warmly.

“Come on, didn’t you have something you wanted to confirm or something?” He goes down the stairs while taking a lollipop out of his coat. He unwraps it and places it flat on his tongue. Oh, this must be why, you think to yourself. Yves tends to do things that could be…

“Are you going to leave me hanging all day or what?” You look up to see he’s holding another lollipop right in front of your face. On top of being dexterous, he always has sweets to share with everyone. No wonder he is so popular, although if you carefully think about it, he resembles more a loving grandmother than the stereotypical hot guy.

Maybe we just want to be taken care of by our grandmothers? As soon as the thought appears, you try to bury it deep. Somehow, today your way of thinking is odd.

When you finally leave the building, the cold hair hits you and manages to somehow clear your head. You suck at the candy, which seems to be the same flavour as usual.

“You never try other flavours?” You turn to Yves while walking to a nearby bus stop to sit on the bench.

“What do you mean?” He takes the lollipop out of his mouth to speak, and you see his is a different colour. How strange. So he just always gives me the same flavour? Maybe he buys in bulk and doesn’t like this one?

“Do you not like this flavour?” You point out to your mouth, and the pink in his cheeks becomes more visible.

“Do you not like it?”

“No, I love it, it’s my favourite.”

Yves lets out a sigh of relief. You think you hear him mutter something like “yeah, I knew it”, but he’s so quiet you can’t be sure.

You arrive at the empty bus stop and promptly sit down.

“Ah, feels good to finally sit down, doesn’t it?” You stretch your legs a bit and Yves agrees.

“So, what did you want to confirm?”

“Right!” You look at him, getting excited. “I have a theory about why you are more skilled.”

Yves raises an eyebrow. A theory? So you’re done with the whole “you’re a genius and I need to copy you” type of thing?

“You’re good with the scissors, yes, but not that different from any of us when we’re focused. But, you really excel at braiding and so on, right?”

“I guess.” Yves looks at you quizzically.

“So it must be because of your fingers.” You raise your hand, spreading your fingers between your bodies.

“My fingers?”

“I think your fingers may be more slender than other people’s.” You really gave this a lot of thought. “So I’d like to compare them with mine.”

“Okay?” Yves takes his hand out of his coat pocket and places it near yours, spreading his fingers.

“You have smaller hands so you also should have an advantage,” he points out. That was to be expected since you’re shorter than him. But that’s not the core of your theory.

You press your hand to his and stare at the spaces between your fingers, trying to make out the width of your fingers. His aren’t thinner than yours, but they’re longer so proportionally that would mean…

“…that’s enough, right?” Yves quickly takes his hand away and hides it inside his coat pocket again. He’s almost sure every bit of skin in his body is blushing right now.

You’re a bit disappointed at the loss of his hand, but decide to leave it at that. Soon enough, you’re done eating the candy, but while Yves gets up to throw the little stick in a bin, you keep playing with it in your mouth.

“They really say February is the coldest month of the year.” He says when he’s back in front of you, and he gently taps your foot with his boot.

“Maybe it’s like the darkest hour of the night, right before Spring comes, it gets as cold as possible.”

“Well, I wish it didn’t. My hands get all disgusting from the cold.” As if to emphasise his point, Yves shoves his hands even deeper inside his pockets.

“Your hands?” You’re quite shocked to hear that. “But your hands always look beautiful.” Now you wish you had a proper look while you were comparing sizes, but you’re pretty sure his hands looked like a model’s when you were watching him cut hair just half an hour ago.

“Yeah, that’s because I take extra care of them when it’s cold.” He takes out something from his coat pocket and shows it to you. It’s hand cream.

You take it from him and hum. It’s a brand you have never seen.

“Where did you buy it?” You give it back to him and he quickly returns it to his pocket.

“From this shop there’s in my area. It specialises in hair products and stuff but they also have a small selection of hand cream and nail polish.”

“Oh, that’s cool! I’d love to see what they have.”

“I…could take you there one day if you want?” Yves tries to hide his face under the scarf, but he fails in concealing his embarrassment completely. His heart is beating like crazy, and he wonders if you have ever felt the same way whenever you approach him so actively.

You didn’t expect him to say that at all. He doesn’t hate me then, right?

“Yeah, sure!” You stare at his face, barely visible through his bangs.

“Oh, by the way, sometimes if they have a new product they’re promoting, they’ll let you try it on. That’s how I bought this hand cream.” He decides to start speaking more, in hopes of calming his heart from other thoughts.

“Yeah? How did they do it?”

What?

“What do you mean, how did they do it?” His heart feels heavy now.

“You said they are specialists. I was thinking that maybe they told you the best way to put hand cream on for absorption?”

He can’t believe it.

“Actually, they… massaged it on my hand.” Yves’ voice sounds somewhat muffled. “And you’re right, they were very thorough about it.”

“Could you show me?”

You have to be kidding, but you’re not. He can see it in your eyes. It’s the same eyes you make when you’re looking at his hands like they are some complex mechanism full of secrets that would be revealed by just looking hard enough. That’s what makes him relax a little and give in. It must mean nothing to you. Well, not nothing, but definitely not what it means to him.

He takes the hand cream slowly out of his pocket and opens the cap. Then, he extends one hand to prompt you to give him yours. You expect the cream to feel cool on your skin, but it feels warm. He was keeping it in his pocket, the thought makes you feel something weird inside, and for the first time, you notice the intimacy in the act.

After Yves has pushed out what he considers a good quantity, he lets go of your hand momentarily to close the little tube and put it away. It’s mere seconds, but your hand feels lonely hanging mid-air without his touch.

Then, he takes your hand between his gently and starts skilfully rubbing the cream on your skin: on your palm, rubbing each finger carefully, the back of your hand. When his fingers grace the skin on your wrist under your jacket, you get overly conscious of what you’re doing in broad daylight at a bus stop, for everyone to see. Just a moment ago, it was only him demonstrating how to properly put hand cream on, but now, it feels completely different.

Yves gives your hand a final squeeze and lets go.

“I think it’s about time we go back.”

You simply nod and get up, not daring to hide inside your pocket the hand he just touched so gently.

“Let me know when you feel like going to the shop.” He casually says once you’re almost back inside the building.

It’s so weird. When you first got out, you felt the cold biting at your hands, but now the one he touched still feels warm.

A/N: There was an idea I had for this that would turn it into M rating but somehow when I wrote the last scene, the idea no longer fit. So, you can expect some suggestive content involving Yves soon ;)

Interactions and feedback are always highly appreciated <3

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#be my valentine content creation challenge #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikepri yves #ikepri fic #ikepri fanfiction #yves kloss #ikemen prince yves #ikemen prince #ikemen prince headcanons #ikepri headcanon #luna writes #yves x reader #ikemen prince fluff #ikepri fluff #yves fluff #yves kloss fluff #yves x emma

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wolfrynn313 · 3 years ago

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𝕊𝕚𝕞 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕓𝕠𝕠𝕜 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕖 by @bauhauzzz Thank you so much for the tag @ladykendalsims ! ❤ I made the decision that since all went to different schools, some were homeschooled (or were straight up young in a different era) they would all have differing photo quality. Top to bottom: Vic DeLuka Nora Vance Dexter Valentine Farah Al-Amin Autumn Luther I tag whoever would like to participate ❤

#Sims 4 #ts4 yearbook challenge #Vic DeLuka #Nora Vance #Dexter Valentine #Farah Al-Amin #Autumn Luther

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jellycatstuffies · 4 years ago

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hello again from the seafoam/penny/moss family, long time no see!! i just wanted to show you what my gf got for me for valentine’s day! it’s sage dragon and christopher caterpillar! i love them so much!!! i think i’ll keep their names this time, sage and christopher are already very fitting :-D

they were super late due to the awful snowstorms here in usa, but they were so worth the wait! here’s a picture of them all together :-) sage and moss are very good friends as you can see, and sage matches my gf’s dexter dragon so i can’t wait to take pics of them together when i get to see her in a couple months!

as always, thanks for running this blog, you’re very sweet and you’re also almost the entire reason i have a jellycat collection now!

I agree, the names are very fitting. Congrats on your new Jellycats, you have a wonderful little collection! Thank you for sharing this photo with me!

#not stuffed animals #submission #jellycat #dragon #caterpillar #bat #dinosaur #dino

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pinkydude · 3 years ago

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Tagged by @northern-wolf6 Thanks you BABY 💜

Solar System OC Meme

doesn’t apply / sometimes applies / always applies

Friendos already been tagged so- I tag whoever see this and want to do it! 🤲

🦝 Valentin Da Silva ⚡

SUN • egotistical • melted wax wings and fingers • stretching sunburnt skin • the most generous soul • blood in the fruit • halos • anger on fire • high vitality • thunderous laughter • is pride really a sin? • halogenic aura

MERCURY • expansion of the mind • silver-tongued • an everlasting wanderer • polyglot • high dexterity • handwritten letters • innately critical • en vogue • eyes in the trees • hidden libraries • there’s always room for improvement

VENUS • in love with strangers • iridescent waters • love potions for your mirror • selfless devotion • shattering crystal • seafoam upon sand • the golden ratio • drowning in your own passion • material value & high principles • luring • plush lips

EARTH • fresh springs • tree hugger • we can start again tomorrow • a blazing rainforest • respects survival of the fittest • nature’s adversity • lazy bones • constantly evolving • flowers sprouting from wounds • a granite altar • fossilized remains

MOON • illusory • silver shimmer off the ocean • secrets and gossip • cycles of reincarnation • a crybaby • physically ethereal • shared glances with a stranger • cat eyes • mistrusting their intuition • fear is a prison • ornate magic wands

MARS • healthy competition • attraction and repulsion • magma and rubies • a blade being forged • wrath wrath wrath • malefic • intense eye contact • cannon fodder & fireworks • blood floods • copper taste on your tongue

JUPITER • red robes and a suit of armor • beacon of stability • leader by birth • thunderbolts and lightning • guilty but can’t stop • secret rich kid • golden touch golden tears • innate optimist • failure isn’t an option • constantly reaching for more • unfinished symphonies

SATURN • traditional • overbearing energy • a sculptor of reality • this existence is a karmic one • has a heart it’s just. way down deep• law, order & justice • avoid all necessary risk • the sound of shackles clanging • sisyphus’ struggle • grappling with the reality of time • self-governing

URANUS • psychedelic funk music • overflowing cups • a rebellion with skin • looking good in photo id • oblivious but caring • middle fingers in the air • double rainbows • icy diamond exterior • holographic • afraid of their own mediocrity • pearlescent smoke

NEPTUNE • an elegy for the lost • dissolving boundaries • white horses • the burden of mystical conditions • deceptive • escapism is their reality • a polarizing entity • artists soul • paranoia • searching for the unseen • a siren’s swan song

PLUTO • angel statues over graves • power • the cycle of necrosis • transformative • unfathomable depths • an ivory tower toppling over• screaming at the sky • violets and irises • eclipsed darkness • speaks with their shadow • sex, death, rebirth

#OC Game #Valentin Da Silva #RVC00N LORE #Those are always Fun to do deadass I don't think too much #I read and if it hit IT HIT #I go by instinct HUGHUZEHU

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thefvrious · 1 year ago

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@ghostsxagain, @leschanceux, @spellbindingnights, @prettytm, @luposcainus

#everyone deserves to see my hard work #jon bernthal #ben barnes #frankenbilly #my shit #fenrir greyback ~ photo #rhodes butcher ~ photo #dexter valentine ~ photo #wes hawthorne ~ photo #frank castle ~ photo

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otome0heart · 5 years ago

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[Fanfic] Music of the Heart (Victor)

The miracle happened and I managed to finish Victor’s BD fanfic a month later *headdesk* I wanted to write something for Valentine’s Day but... maybe later... I have a few days off at the end of the month because of local festivities and maybe I’ll be able to produce something. I hope you enjoy this late gift for our beloved CEO ^^

Title: Music of the Heart

Genre: Romance

Words: 6061

Notes: This story is very musical, there are four different pieces scattered through it. I’ll leave you the links in case you want to play them while you read, or want to listen to them in the musical part of the story :) They go in order:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZARU_PNizc (this is a tutorial, so maybe you want to skip until they start playing).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ryUG57yUQI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1prweT95Mo0

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qrKjywjo7Q

Also, sorry for my maybe-not-very-accurate music vocabulary, I tried to look for them in different dictionaries but if I got any of them mistaken, please point it out so I can correct it. And now, with no more delay...

MUSIC OF THE HEART

As the last musical notes faded in the emptiness of the bedroom, the young woman sighed relieved, though not as satisfied as she had expected. She still failed at reaching the highest notes correctly and was still insecure in a passage, even though the melody in her mind sounded perfect. However, as she verified looking at a nearby clock, there was no time for another rehearsal if she wanted to have everything ready on time. And she was sure that she would not have even an extra second, knowing him.

She left the cello on its stand, picked up the partiture and put it on the shelf next to her. Then, with great care, she placed the bow and her beloved instrument inside their case, making sure that everything was perfectly secured before closing it. And then, she ran to the bathroom to have a quick shower.

Being Victor's birthday so close to Christmas made the task of finding a present for him even more difficult than it already was. After walking in and out of shopping centres and exclusive shops for several days, she had almost given up. It seemed impossible to buy something for a man that had everything, and who could afford whatever he desired at the moment he wished for it.

And then, it had hit her as she was curling up in the sofa, drinking some hot tea before bed, her eyes wandering around the room while thinking of his gift until they fell on her cello. She had smiled as she left her cup on a low table and stood up, walking silently to the corner of the room by the window. If there was not anything material she could give him, then, she could present him with something that she knew he would appreciate. He had always been fond of classical music and even had a piano at home, though he did not play very well. It was only recently that he had allowed her to teach him a little, revealing to her in the process small pieces of his memories with his mother as they played together, and she could see that music really meant much more for him than just an entertainment.

However, as strange as it seemed, he had never heard her play the cello. When he had been in her home, he had glanced curiously at the instrument perfectly set on its stand a few times, but had never asked her about it.

And then, she had gone on the quest to find the perfect piece. In the end, she had chosen two, but after thinking carefully about it while she was under the shower, she had decided to play only one. She would make up for it by playing a few more songs on the piano.

She came out of the bathroom and, with her hair still wrapped in a towel, she started to dress in the elegant clothes she had prepared beforehand. It did not matter that the concert she had planned was short or that it would be celebrated in his house, Victor would never overlook that she was not wearing the appropriate garments, and the last thing she wanted was to hear a remark about it. Besides, she liked to dress smartly now and then, and most of the times that they could squeeze a date in their busy schedules, he usually picked her up from her workplace, so she did not have time to refresh herself, wear pretty clothes or comb her hair in a more mature style.

She watched herself in the mirror, as she used one last bobby pin in her updo and gave the last touches with the curling iron to the whisps of hair that framed her face. Then, she put on a pair of diamond earrings that Victor had given her for their first anniversary and her engagement ring on her left hand. She did not wear it frequently, since one of her greatest fears was to lose it while running around in a filming location, and after a few arguments with him, her fiancé had resigned himself to seeing her ring finger bare most of the time they were together.

She could not help blushing as she gazed at it fondly, remembering that special moment. There had not been a great display of his wealth or an extravagant setting. Despite being a public figure, Victor was also very private, and even though he had not said anything about it, she was sure that the last thing he had wanted was to see their special moment in a photo on the cover of a gossip magazine or on a TV programme.

There had not been any grand gesture either. After finishing successfully a long tiring project, he had taken her to Paris for a short holiday and while they had dinner in their hotel suite, under the candlelight, he had taken her hand on the table and had asked her to allow him to be part of her life forever.

None had prepared her for that and tears of incredulity and happiness had slid down her cheeks, unsettling him with the thought of a refusal. Once she had taken him out of his mistake, he had shown her the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. Made of platinum, it had a beautiful oval diamond in the centre, framed by a milgrain and bead set halo. The band also had three small diamonds on each side. As he put it on her finger, he told her that it had been his late mother's ring and that he was sure that she would be proud of her wearing it. That had made her cry harder but this time, Victor had kissed her tears away with such tenderness in his eyes and his features that she had blurted out her deep feelings for him, overwhelmed by so many emotions. His response in kind, as he had leant his forehead on hers with a soft smile gracing his lips, was deeply engraved in her heart and mind, as it had been the first time she had heard those words from him. He had always been a man who showed his affection with actions but he seemed to know how much it had meant for her and had chosen the perfect moment to do it.

With a deep breath, she brought herself back from her memories and brushed the wetness in her lashes that threatened to ruin her make up. Turning around, she checked once again the contents in her handbag and picked up her coat. Then, walking to where she had left her cello, she adjusted it to her back and, with a last look at her apartment, she picked up a paper bag and walked to the door.

Victor closed the door of his house with a tired sigh. Nothing annoyed him more than an unscheduled meeting that ruined his already set plans. Not that his birthday had a special meaning for him, but since his path had crossed with a certain silly girl, her childish enthusiasm for little unimportant things had permeated his pragmatism and, even though he still saw some of her ideas half-baked, he enjoyed seeing her wide smile and her eyes shining with delight. He was probably spoiling her a bit too much but he liked the feelings it awoke in him.

The first thing he had seen when he had woken up for his morning jog was her birthday greeting on his smartphone, sent exactly at midnight, the message so filled with happy faces and celebration emoticons that he could not help a smile gracing his lips. She was an idiot for being awake until so late on a working day but also, he knew deep inside that he had expected nothing less from her. Her second message showed her disappointment for not being able to meet him, also accompanied by cascade-crying little yellow emojis. After a brief answer, he had kept on going with his day with the idea of inviting her to Souvenir for dinner once he made sure her schedule allowed it. That was until a sudden fluctuation in the American stock market which affected some of his investments had put paid to his intentions.

However, he would make sure to clear his schedule on Saturday to let her do as she pleased, as he was sure she already had a plan for him in her mind.

A soft rustle stopped his arm on his way to turn on the lights and put all his senses on alert, and he scanned his living room in the darkness. In the faint light that entered through the window at the back and the ones on the first floor, nothing seemed out of the ordinary even though he was really sure of what he had heard. And suddenly, an idea, a really silly one, came to his mind, and he turned on the lights.

The cheerful melody of the Happy Birthday song reached his ears and his eyes fell on his fiancée, sitting at the far end of the room, playing the beautiful white grand piano he kept there. He moved his head while a small smile played on his lips. He should have guessed that she would never let his birthday pass with just something as simple as a birthday greeting.

She met his eyes briefly and a big grin appeared on her mouth. Her dexterous fingers were playing an arrangement of the song a little slower than usual and filled with harmonies that made it sound richer and a bit less childish.

Victor put one of his hands in the pocket of his coat while balancing his briefcase in the other, waiting for her to finish to remove them and approach her. However, when the music ended, she was the one to stand up and walk to him, her fingers laced on her front and her cheeks flushed with excitement and, he guessed, a bit of embarrassment.

He had to say that she was especially beautiful that night. She had combed her hair in an elegant bun, decorated with some crystal pins in the shape of small roses. She was wearing black trousers, black mary-jane shoes and a black lace blouse with slightly puffy sleeves and a round neck that accentuated her fair skin. Her make up was also more defined than usual, which made her eyes bigger and her features slightly more mature.

“Happy birthday!” the young woman exclaimed when she stopped in front of him.

“You couldn't let it pass, could you?” he replied as he took off his coat and scarf.

“Never.”

She took his garments from him and went to the wardrobe in the hall to hang them neatly, humming softly. He chuckled silently and then, putting his hands on his waist, he looked around.

She had decorated his house too, as expected, though not as lavishly as other years. However, it seemed that she had gathered all the Christmas tree lights she had been able to, since everything, from the railing of the staircase to the mirror above the fireplace was decorated with flickering little bulbs which she had turned on at some point after playing, without him noticing. Also, there were some wreaths made of hand-made paper flowers and snowflakes hanging from the edge of the mantel shelf of the fireplace and the pictures on each side of it, making him wonder how she had managed to reach such height without any help.

“Do you like it?” she had stopped behind him and was lowering the intensity of the light of the big lamp which hung from the ceiling with the switch, so he could appreciate the colourful fairy lights better.

“It could be worse” she pouted slightly and he had to hold the smile that threatened to appear on his face. “When did you have time to do all this?” he walked into the living room and brushed with his fingers a small snowflake that hung from a bell jar which covered a wreath of lights shaped as roses in what seemed a makeshift lamp.

A soft blush covered her cheeks.

“Well, when I could take some short breaks at work and also-”

“You didn't cut short your sleeping hours, did you?”

The heat on her face became more intense and her eyes wandered around the room and he furrowed his brows, a bit annoyed.

“You know it's very important to rest properly to be in full shape the following day.”

“Yes, and I did it. I worked properly on the projects too... I just wanted to make you happy.

Victor sighed and then, lifted his hand to pat her head softly.

“I understand” she met his gaze with a smile. “But it also makes me happy that you take good care of yourself.”

She nodded and his frown disappeared. Then, he looked at his watch.

“I don't know if we'll be able to find an open place to have dinner, and if we go to Souvenir...”

“Don't worry about that” she grinned and put her hands behind her. “I made a cake so, if you brew some tea, we can have that.”

He shook his head.

“Not a very good choice for a night meal...”

“Oh, come on” she grabbed his hand and started walking to the kitchen, pulling him along. “Once a year isn't going to be so bad.”

Victor grumbled a little before taking a kettle out and filling it with water. When he turned, his fiancée was leaning on the counter, watching him with a bemused smile.

“You could make yourself useful instead of just staring at me” he opened a cabinet and took out two plates and two cups. “You like doing that too much.”

She giggled as she took the individual tablecloths with winter motives and the tableware he gave her and with a soft humming, she went to the living room. He chuckled, moving his head, and turned to another cupboard, where he kept different blends of tea.

After choosing a specific Oolong one which could go well with sweets, he realised she had not gone back to the kitchen. A second later, as he was ready to admonish her for skipping her helping duty, the sound of a melody played on the piano stopped him on his tracks.

The opening tune of Salut d'Amour, soft and sweet, made his heart flutter, knowing immediately how much of her affection for him was being poured into every note. The tempo was faster than in other versions he had heard before, probably because of her excitement at the moment, but it sounded beautiful. The temptation of getting nearer, of watching her as she played was almost overwhelming, and he lowered the fire in the stove so the water could take longer to boil and the kettle would not make any noise to disturb that precious moment. Silently, he walked to the living room and stayed half hidden by the staircase, watching her.

Despite her expressiveness in other aspects of her life, her movements as her hands danced over the keyboard, reaching for further keys when necessary, were exquisite, far from the exaggerated ones of some musicians. Without any effort, he could picture her eager expression and the small smile that unconsciously played on her lips every single time she played, and that made the corners of his mouth lift slightly.

As the piece reached its central part, the fleeting thought of that being their life together once they got married crossed his mind. The idea of her constant presence in his mornings and nights, filling each corner of his house and his existence with her smiles, her warmth, her music, only made him wish the day would arrive sooner. However, the preparations were going slower than he desired since it was her wish not to leave everything to the wedding planner, but up to that moment, their schedules had been packed with meetings and projects.

He stayed until she got to the last strains of the melody and then, he returned to the kitchen silently. The music ended and shortly after, the young woman returned with a satisfied expression and humming softly. He did not say anything but the softness of his features and the flickering in his pupils as he briefly glanced at her while he prepared the teapot was enough for her to know that he had enjoyed her performance.

She had barely reached the drawer where the napkins were when he spoke.

“Had you been waiting for long when I arrived?”

The first thing that crossed her mind was to tell a white lie, but Victor would see through it immediately.

“Well, yes... I had checked with Goldman your schedule for today but when you didn't arrive by the time I was expecting you, I supposed something had come up at work... I hope it was nothing serious.”

He sighed and, at that moment, the kettle whistled and he turned off the stove.

“We had an unexpected meeting after some fluctuations in the American stock market. Fortunately, it was just a variation caused by some bad decisions, but nothing that some calls and a videoconference could not solve” he lifted his head to her as he poured the boiled water over a beautiful antique clay tea set which he liked to use on special occasions. “I apologise, if I had known-”

“It's not your fault, Victor” she smiled lovingly at him. “That's how work is, we both know it.”

He nodded as he carefully picked up the cups one by one. Then, she watched him go through the different steps of the ceremony with precision and meticulousness, as if she were an important guest to please and lavish.

“Are you free on Saturday?” he said once he finished, setting the set in a new tray, ready to take it to the living room while the beverage brewed in the teapot. “As compensation, I'll take you wherever you want.”

“I think that I only have some things to take care of early in the morning, but I'll check it tomorrow and call you” she approached him with a smile. “And now, go and sit down” she said as she pushed his back lightly.

He observed her suspiciously for a moment before turning around and disappearing into the next room.

The young woman took the cake from the fridge, delighted to see that the time it had been outside while she was waiting for him to arrive had not affected to its shape. She knew it was not perfect but she had spent the whole morning baking and frosting it and she hoped that it was edible according to Victor's standards. She opened the cupboard where he kept the biggest pots and extracted a small packet with candles she had hidden inside one of them. Then, she placed them carefully on the cake. Taking a deep breath, she picked it up from the counter and then, followed him.

Victor could not help a small, silent chuckle as he saw her approach carrying a big cake enough to feed half of her staff. She set it on the low table in front of him and his gaze fell on it. It was obvious that she had improved her cooking skills under his supervision during the years they had been together, though she still had a long way to go. The cake was a bit crooked, the frost decoration was irregular and a bit messy, and the message wishing him happy birthday seemed written by a five-year-old. However, her expectant face and sparkling eyes watching the candles as she lit them one by one made up for all that in his eyes. Nothing mattered to him more than her happiness.

She turned to him after putting the lighter she had brought from the kitchen on the tray, but before she could urge him, he closed his eyes making the same wish as every single previous birthday he had celebrated with her.

'I wish to make you happy, to spend my whole life beside you.'

It took him only a second and then, he blew the candles, opening his eyes. She rolled her eyes at his promptness, took a knife and gave it to him to cut the cake. A small smile played on his lips as he took it, remembering how she had made birthday wishes for him on the first one they had celebrated together and then, he had tricked her into telling him what they had been. Since that year, she had never talked about wishes after they had been made. Not that he would tell her them either. He handed her a plate with the first piece and then, he served one for himself and took a bite. He could feel her eyes on him as he savoured it, as if waiting for his verdict.

“Not bad” he said, and she furrowed her brows in a delicate frown; not wanting her to feel disappointed on such a special date, and sure that she had made a great effort, he continued. “The decoration is still sloppy and the chocolate frosting is slightly bitter so it clashes with the sweetness of the crème pâtissière. However, the sponge cake is soft and since it's just slightly sweet, it mixes perfectly with the flavour of the filling.”

She nodded and her lips pressed in a thin line, and he knew that his words had come across rightfully and she was already determined to make it better the next time.

They ate in silence, alternating the dessert with sips of the fragrant tea. He watched her wiping the chocolate from the cake, eating it in a big spoonful, and make a face at the bitter traces it surely had left on her tongue. Immediately, she picked up some cream and her expression changed into one of delight. He barely could contain the smile fighting to reach his lips and he took another bite to conceal it. He loved how each of her emotions showed on her face, how she was so predictable and at the same time, managed to surprise him every single time.

He politely refused a second serving and watched her as she cut another piece for herself much bigger than the first one, the comment dying on his lips as she made a soft sound of pleasure when the sweetness filled her mouth again. He rested his elbow on the back of the sofa, leaning his cheek on his palm, gazing at her tenderly, feeling infected by her joy.

With a satisfied sigh, the young woman left the plate on the table next to his and leant back, patting her stomach softly.

“One day, you're going to make yourself sick with so much food.”

She glanced at him smugly.

“I was hungry” she pursed her lips. “I didn't eat much for lunch and after I finished with the decorations, I didn't have any snacks thinking you'd arrive soon” his eyes wavered and she continued before he could speak. “And don't apologise.”

Victor held his gaze on her a bit more and then, he straightened, ready to tidy up the table.

“I'll do it.”

She stopped him putting a hand on his arm and then, she stood up, gathering the plates and cups and returning to the kitchen. A few seconds later, he heard the water running in his sink and the soft clink of the crockery being washed. He breathed deeply and then, leant back his head, staring at the ceiling.

It had been months since the last time he had been able to enjoy such peace in his own home. Most days, he came back just to go to bed, after working overtime or dinner appointments with clients, and when he could, he liked to take her to dates, or to Souvenir. On the scarce occasions he arrived early, he ended up reviewing documents or putting the last touches to a meeting. Enjoying a home-made meal not made by him next to her in a place where they could be themselves was like a luxury he could rarely afford.

“Tired?” her soft voice and the touch of her fingers on his arm took him out of his reverie.

His fiancée had sat down beside him and was looking at him with concerned eyes.

“A little” he turned his head to her and he saw her straighten, her hand leaving his shirt, and he hurried to hold it. “But I'm glad that you came...”

She settled back with a smile, her face taking on a lovely shade of pink. A comfortable silence settled around them, as they shared glances, and unconsciously, Victor started playing with the ring on her finger. It had made him extremely happy to see her wearing it. He understood her reasons for not doing it frequently, but that did not mean that he agreed with them. However, he had decided to respect her decision, especially knowing how much she valued that that jewel had belonged to his mother. His attention focused on his actions for a few seconds and then, he lifted her hand, kissing it reverently, making her heart flutter uncontrollably in her chest.

“We need to keep going with the preparations...”

A warm feeling spread inside her and she blushed lightly under his mauve gaze.

“I already cleared three days next week and made an appointment at a bridal shop.”

That made him smile.

“Do you need me to go with you?”

“Victor!” she furrowed her brows, indignant. “The groom can't see the bride before the wedding!”

He chuckled affectionately, lacing his fingers with hers and leaning forward. She met him halfway and the soft caress of their mouths soon deepened, seeking each other's warmth, getting closer as he wrapped his other arm around her shoulders and her hand brushed across his abdomen to circle his waist. The aftertaste of the cake was even more luscious in the other's lips and they enjoyed it slowly until they parted, almost out of breath, and he nuzzled her temple as she hid her face in the curve of his neck.

“I love you...” she whispered against his throat, and he pressed a kiss on her forehead, cradling her head and stroking her hair in a gesture full of affection.

She sighed happily, relaxing against him as he continued his ministrations, and soon, her lids grew heavier, nestled in his loving embrace.

Well,” he said, feeling the progressive lethargy taking ahold of her body and looking at his watch. “Tomorrow, you and I have work so I think it's time to drive you home-”

That woke her up instantly and she sprung from his arms, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Wait! I still haven't given you your present!”

He arched his brows, a bit surprised.

“I thought your present was the cake and you sneaking into my house to do as you pleased...”

“Stop teasing me...” she pulled a long face. “I wanted to give you something special...”

His eyes filled with tenderness as his hand came to rest on her cheek. How he wanted to say that her presence was more than enough present, that every single moment spent with her was special to him. That he considered a miracle having encountered her a second time in his life, and a privilege to be the recipient of her love.

At his touch, she lifted her head only to find him a breath away from her lips. His kiss, soft and sweet, was more eloquent than any of the words he had said before. She felt cherished and safe, and there was pure devotion in his pupils, as she saw herself reflected on them when they separated.

“Fine” he murmured, his breath caressing her skin softly.

The grin that appeared on her mouth was almost blinding, and Victor felt his heart skip a beat. Maybe it was true that birthday wishes became true...

“Now, cover your eyes. I want it to be a surprise.”

He sighed and then, humoring her, he crossed his arms on his chest and closed his lids. He heard her soft steps getting away and then, noises on the other side of the room, of pieces of furniture being moved. The sound of latches being opened and something metallic made him frown.

“I hope you're not making a mess of my house.”

“I'm not!” she replied defensively, looking at him. “And no peeking.”

He crossed his legs.

“I'm not.”

After a few more minutes and some more noise, everything went silent.

“You can look now.”

As he was opening his lids, he heard her breathe deeply and then, the first notes of the Prelude for Bach's Cello Suit started filling the room. Victor became mesmerized as she extracted an exquisite melody out of the cello balanced between her knees, her nimble fingers dancing over the strings while the bow drew across them. There was something different about her, a special light reflected on her soft features and a light blush dusted her cheeks, and he felt her love for that instrument, maybe stronger than for the piano.

He had been curious about her playing the cello since the first time he had seen it in her house, sitting on its stand, waiting patiently for its owner to play it. However, there had been more pressing matters at hand and he had pushed his questions at the back of his mind. Later, he had discovered she played the piano, she had learnt that he had a grand piano in his living room and, as their relationship grew stronger, they had started to play easy tunes together and she had taken up the role of his instructor for more difficult ones. She had never mentioned the cello to him and he had respected her privacy, thinking that maybe, someday, she would share it with him. And though he was not sure why she had decided to do it that day, he was grateful and deeply moved that she had deemed him worthy of entering that secret corner of her heart, the warm, rich tones resounding inside him, making a home in his chest and reaching every corner of his being.

She was approaching the end of the piece and something compelled him to get nearer her, even if it was a little. His body bent on its own, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin on his laced fingers.

When the young woman finished, there was no sound in the living room, not clapping, not a single comment, good or bad, about her performance, and that disheartened her. As she lifted her head to him, she found his piercing gaze fixed on her. She could not read his expression and for a second, she panicked thinking that he had not liked it. However, her eyes met his and she saw something deep in them, a dark turbulence filled with raw emotion which made her heart thunder in her chest and for a moment, she felt like she could drown in the mauve ocean of his pupils.

“Could you play another one?”

She had not expected that and she startled, suddenly pulled out of her trance.

“Can you not?”

His quiet voice was not demanding neither defiant. However, it carried a hopeful tone that reached deep inside her.

“I've been rehearsing another piece but...” she bit her lower lip. “I still make mistakes so...”

“It doesn't matter” the storm in his eyes subsided a little at the same time as his features softened. “I'd like to listen to it.”

She doubted for a moment more before furrowing her brows and breathing deeply, and closed her eyes. The melody and the notes flowed in her mind, and she put the bow on the strings. Then, her fingers moved slowly over the strings as she started to play the beautiful, serene chords of The Swan.

Victor swallowed the knot that had set in his throat as his heart hammered in his chest when she reached the first high notes. The warm and melancholic tune was like the cry of a wounded swan, suffering and fighting death but never losing its elegance and beauty. In a certain way, it reminded him of her. When she first approached him, she was struggling to avoid losing every single thing that meant the world to her: her father's precious memory, his legacy... And even though he had made things extremely difficult for her, her determination and her spirit had made her shine brightly in his eyes.

He saw her flinch as one of the notes sounded off-key but she frowned delicately, not breaking the cadence and trying to reach properly the correct place in the strings with her fingers. They slipped twice more and then, when the melody went back to lower tones, it became more confident and powerful again. Her movements slowed as she approached the end and he was sure that if his nature was different, the beautiful melody would have brought tears to his eyes.

“Sorry if it hasn't been very good...” blushing with embarrassment, not really wanting to look at him, she stood up and put the cello in the stand she had set next to the stool. “I hope I didn't make too many mistakes, I-”

Her voice got caught in her throat as his arms enveloped her in a tight embrace. She felt him lean his cheek on top of her head and his breath deep and even, filling his chest fully.

“Victor?” the young woman pushed at his arms, trying to see his face. “Are you okay?”

His only response was to keep her even closer to him and in the end, she just wrapped her arms around his waist, offering him her blind support.

Victor had always wondered how it was possible that she was capable of making his world shake to its foundations with just the smallest gesture. As a child, she had engraved herself into his heart in the brief moments they had been together and as an adult, she had stolen it again with her perseverance, her strength and her innocence. And now, with just her music, she had reached even deeper into his soul. He pressed a soft lingering kiss on her hair, smelling her delicate perfume.

“Thank you...”

His words were barely a whisper in her ear and she almost missed it, contented as she was snuggled up against his chest. She felt his muscles relax under her hands and loosened her hold on him, allowing him to move. His eyes had regained some of their usual calmness though she could see they still sparkled with contained emotion. On impulse, she lifted her hand and caressed his cheek. She had never imagined such a small thing would mean so much for him. Otherwise, she would have done it long before.

“Will you play for me again someday?”

She smiled.

“Every time you want me to” she tilted her head a bit. “Just let me know beforehand so I have some time to rehearsal properly.”

“If you do it every day, you'll be prepared without me giving you and advance notice.”

She pouted a bit, her lids lowering slightly.

“If you reduce my amount of work, then I'll have time for that.”

“Organise yourself better and you'll be able to do everything.”

“That's easy for you to say when you can stop time to get to everything.”

“I told you countless times before” the corners of his lips lifted up slightly and his eyes twinkled mischievously. “I only do that on special occasions.”

Then, as silence fell around them and the flicker of the fairy lights stilled, he leant forward and kissed her, stealing the words from her mouth, transporting them into a world suspended in a single moment that, if he wanted, he could make eternal.

THE END

#otome games #mr. love queen's choice #mlqc #fanfic #mlqc victor #li zeyan

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blaserables · 8 months ago

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Translations from Project Umbrella.

S.T.A.R.S. Special Tactics And Rescue Service (Page 082-089) S.T.A.R.S. is a unit belonging to the Raccoon Police Department that mobilizes for the purpose of rescue and strategies against special crimes. S.T.A.R.S. was established within the Raccoon Police Department in 1996. It was to combat new and increasingly diversified crimes at the time such as terrorist acts utilizing bio-chemical weapons, hackers and new types of drugs.

At the center of the local private companies who provided investment as part of the city's urban planning was Umbrella, which has a large factory group in Raccoon. Therefore, S.T.A.R.S. was launched as an elite group with advanced facilities, an extensive intelligence network and exemplary human resources.

Chris Redfield (Page 083) Age: 25 Blood Type: O Height: 181cm Weight: 80.4kg Hobby: Appreciating music (mainly rock)

Member of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team. Responsible for helicopter operation. With his exemplary piloting skills, he had a prospective future as an Air Force pilot but was discharged due to trouble between him and his superiors. Afterwards, he joined S.T.A.R.S. at Barry's invitation.

After that he successfully carried out numerous operations in partnership with Barry, but also had to leave many written apologies. He has superb observation and insight and his marksmanship skills are first-rate among the team. However, the man's flaw was sometimes exhibiting lazy habits.

Jill Valentine (Page 084) Age: 23 Blood Type: B Height: 166cm Weight: 50.4kg Hobby: Playing piano, horse riding

Member of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team. She is dexterous and demonstrates great skill in handling explosives. While explosives disposal is her specialty, she also contributes to the team with her strange "lockpicking" ability which nobody knows where she learned from. She has explained that her motivation for enlisting was because she "cannot forgive evil that threatens the lives of citizens", but it seems her true intention is she also "wants to have experiences that make her feel alive."

Barry Burton (Page 085) Age: 38 Blood Type: A Height: 186cm Weight: 89.3kg Hobby: Fishing, collecting guns

Member of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team. A veteran of 16 years in charge of maintenance and replenishment of firearms. His abundance of firearms-related knowledge is particularly noteworthy. Since he also has a strong sense of justice, he is a kind man who loves his family and carries a photo of his wife and two daughters with him at all times, but he is also a hot-blooded man who cannot stop his actions. He is taciturn, sometimes making silly jokes that aren't very funny but play a role in relieving tension on the S.T.A.R.S. members.

Rebecca Chambers Age: 18 Blood Type: AB Height: 161cm Weight: 42.1kg Hobby: Reading, travel

Member of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team. In charge of medical. A girl who passed the S.T.A.R.S. exam at just 18 years old and joined this year. With the brain of a genius, she repeated accelerated classes at school and graduated from university at this age. Her extraordinary chemical knowledge in particular was deemed essential for the unit and tied to her enlistment. That's the sort of girl she is but now she is an ordinary rookie nervous with tension and expectation. For this time, she was dispatched in high spirits about being involved in her first mission, but…

Albert Wesker (Page 086) Age: 38 Blood Type: O Height: 183cm Weight: 84.5kg Hobby: Football, studying war history

S.T.A.R.S. Captain and Alpha Team leader. An elitist among elites who, as a biotechnology specialist, joined the giant pharmaceutical company Umbrella after working as an army technical officer and a researcher at the T Institute of Technology. A few years ago, when the issue of S.T.A.R.S.' dissolution arose from their funding circumstances, he was dispatched from Umbrella Corp. as Captain and managed to raise the funds without any trouble. The members place strong trust in Wesker who is moderate and fair in peacetime, and able to make calm, precise decisions in emergencies.

Brad Vickers Age: 35 Blood Type: O Height: 174cm Weight: 60.8kg Hobby: Watching sports

Member of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team. In charge of information processing. A man who is unusually timid among the S.T.A.R.S. members and received the disgraceful nickname "Chicken Heart." On this occasion, a pack of monsters attacked but he fled the scene with the helicopter leaving his comrades behind, even though he should've been waiting in the sky. While tormented by a crisis of conscience, he searched the area with inapt flying. The key to escaping the mansion is being able to contact him.

Joseph Frost (Page 087) Age: 27 Blood Type: B Height: 179cm Weight: 72.3kg Hobby: Magic

S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team member. In charge of vehicle maintenance. As a member of Alpha Team in this operation, he ventured in search of Bravo Team's helicopter with Chris and others. However, during their investigation they discovered that Edward of Bravo Team had been attacked by Cerberus and become a corpse. In trying to escape the forest area, he himself was soon attacked by Cerberus and faced the same fate as Edward. He only appears in the opening movie.

Kenneth J. Sullivan Age: 45 Blood Type: O Height: 188cm Weight: 96.8kg Hobby: Landscaping, dog training

Member of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team. Specializes in protection and countermeasures against chemical weapons. He went to Raccoon Forest where strange bizarre murders frequently occurred, but the team disappeared. It seems he was attacked by Cerberus like Alpha Team and had fled into the mansion a little earlier, but was attacked by a Zombie soon after Chris and the others arrived at the mansion. By the time he was discovered, he had become prey to the Zombie and met his end.

Forest Speyer (Page 088) Age: 29 Blood Type: A Height: 183cm Weight: 71.1kg Hobby: Driving

Member of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team. Specializes in cyber-crime. A master marksman on par with Chris. In this incident, he was dispatched prior to Alpha Team. However when he arrived at the mansion terrace, he died from a significant amount of blood loss and became suitable prey for crows.

Enrico Marini Age: 41 Blood Type: O Height: 190cm Weight: 83.0kg Hobby: Golf

Leader of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team. He is also Vice-Captain of S.T.A.R.S. He was attacked by Cerberus and escaped into the mansion, venturing further into the courtyard basement alone. However, he was wounded and unable to move and had to wait for help. He seems to have already grasped the truth behind this case…

Richard Aiken Age: 23 Blood Type: AB Height: 172cm Weight: 62.5kg Hobby: Watching movies

Member of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team. In charge of communications. He entered Raccoon Forest as the advance unit but was attacked by a large pack of Cerberus and gave up investigating. He escaped into the mansion with his teammates but was bitten by the giant snake Yawn and weakened to the point where he couldn't speak. Serum can be obtained to deal with the giant snake's venom, but…

Edward Dewey (Page 089) Age: 26 Blood Type: A Height: 193cm Weight: 112.1kg Hobby: Dance

Member of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team. Helicopter pilot. A giant in S.T.A.R.S. The wreckage of the helicopter was discovered by Alpha Team and his miserable corpse, which had been rendered merely a wrist, was found near the helicopter. It appears he was attacked by Cerberus like the other members of the team. It seems somewhat pitiful to end with the appearance of merely a wrist.

#jill valentine #chris redfield #albert wesker #rebecca chambers

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arat02-blog · 2 years ago

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frangipanidownunder · 6 years ago

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1 or 40 for that I found prompt list. I'm in dire need of some fluff

From the ‘I found you’ prompts: Gigglinglike a child, without a trace of past sadness and Atthe happiest you had ever been

Warning: This is pure fluffy mcfluff-fluff, baby fic, family fic, season 11 sappy nonsense. There are no female-presenting nipples involved. Sorry!

The Symphony of the Golden Years: fic

She brushed the dirt off her knees and groaned as her back creaked. If there was anything surprising about getting older, it was the noises. She didn’t remember learning that in med school. Mulder called it the symphony of the golden years. It sounded so romantic, put like that, and spoken in his gravelled voice that had only got sexier with age. But he would always manage to fart at orchestral levels as he said it.

These days, her neck popped, the muscles there gristling and scraping together like tectonic plates, her shoulders cracked, her ankles clicked, her stomach gurgled before and after meals. Luckily, with almost half of all people over 65 suffering hearing loss, at least one of their lives should become inordinately quieter in the next decade.

‘Hopefully,’ she whispered to herself, as she crunched her knees straight. Poor Esther, she thought. What a life she was going to have. Ageing parents. Ageing spooky parents. She’d already heard parents at the playgroup asking if she was the mother or the grandmother. Would she be sporting the Rock it Like a Red Head look at the age of 65? Would Mulder still wear alien socks? Would Esther invite them to ‘Bring your parents to school days’ or would she be too embarrassed?

“What do you do for a job Mr Mulder?”

“I’m a writer.”

“Anything we’d know?”

“I have a novel coming out soon. ‘Okobogee’. A psychological thriller about a woman receiving psychic messages from a…”

“Thank you, and you Mrs Mulder?”

“Dr Scully,” she would say. “I was a forensic pathologist with the FBI.”

For elementary school kids, it was just as much of a conversation killer as Mulder’s writing genre.

Poor Esther.

Scully sighed, the breath rasping noisily over her vocal cords. She held up the bunches of young carrots, vibrant orange and green, and inhaled their earthy scent. On her way back to the house, she relished the strengthening sun on her face and stopped a second to admire the late blossom on the weeping apricot, cascading like a cerise fountain.

Forced retirement did have some benefits. Mulder was a patient cultivator, finding genuine joy in permaculture and gardening by night; and she’d found a welcome peace in the rhythms and fruits of his toil. He wrote late into the night, then pottered under the stars. She’d often sat by the window, feeding their miracle child, as she watched his shadowy figure in the yard, lit only by the miracles of the Milky Way. She’d also discovered a latent talent for growing Bonsai – the first tree was a gift from Skinner. Her dexterous capacity for snipping and clipping now put to more nurturing use.

Her skin warmed as she opened the back door and drank in the aromas of living. The house felt so much more like a home now, filled with the paraphernalia of family. Stacked on the counters, table and windowsill were baby bottles, a Peter Rabbit bowl and spoon set smeared with the remains of pumpkin and rice puree, two coffee mugs bearing the slogan The FBI’s Most Unwanted under a photo of the pair of them circa 1994, which Skinner thought was a hilarious wedding present, Bonsai trees in various stages of training, two of Mulder’s watches which he claimed lost nine minutes the last he went Squatchin in that ridiculous suit but also bore the telltale bubbles of water submersion, a pair of binoculars, newspaper clippings and a Valentine’s card that had been mysteriously left on the steps to the house and read ‘You are still my touchstone’ but elicited a denial from Mulder that would have made the head of the Bureau proud. He had steadfastly refused to allow her to recycle it, claiming it was evidence…of what, other than his silver fox sappiness, she didn’t quite know.

Yes, she thought, Esther would be a moon child, a daddy’s girl, a Squatcher, a nature lover, a cryptid geek. And as she looked at the photos in the rustic frame on the wall, showing a slow progression from scrunched up newborn to the wide-eyed wonder of a six-month old, Esther Scully-Mulder would be a redhead.

She toed off her boots and left the harvest in the kitchen sink. She heard the first squeal and her nipples tightened on reflex. It was quickly followed by a kind of strangled noise. Her second response was to touch her hip – but these days there was no weapon. Then a second squeal, longer and more gurgly, and a low wheeze. Punctuated by a small silence during which she crept closer to the living room. More squeals and a chuckle, a gathering of breath, and a howl of baby laughter.

She found Mulder hunched on his knees in front of Esther’s activity jumper, where she was sitting in the chair, chubby cheeks red with delight. His face was hidden behind his hands. On her head, Esther wore one of her older toys. A pale green terry cloth teether in the shape of a rabbit with oversized red gingham ears. It sat like a halo on her fine auburn hair and when Mulder revealed his face with a sing-song ‘what’s the time, Mr Fox?’ Esther laughed so hard that the rabbit slipped off and landed with a jingle on the plastic tray in front of her. Her giggles set Mulder off and he laughed like she hadn’t seen him before. Tears streamed down his face and he had trouble catching his breath between repetitions.

By the third ‘what’s the time, Mr Fox?’ she felt her own shoulders wobble as a laugh bubbled up from her diaphragm. Esther’s little head shook and her mouth opened wide with anticipation as Mulder positioned the rabbit once more.

The unbridled joy of a baby’s chuckle was a sound so universally loved that Scully found herself crying and laughing, overwhelmed at the sight of Mulder and their daughter sharing this tender moment. She knelt next to Mulder, knees groaning again. But she didn’t care. This time, she picked up the rabbit and put it on Esther’s head. The baby grinned at her, strings of drool glistening on her lips and chin. Her little hands reached out and Scully dipped to kiss her fat knuckles. She covered her face in her hands. Mulder’s arm slipped around her waist. She leaned in to his solid body.

“What’s the time…” She didn’t know what to say.

She felt Mulder’s bristly jaw turn towards her, an exhalation, a gentle kiss against her cheek. A rush of golden memories. “Doctor 1 in 5 billion.”

Esther burst into a peal of throaty giggles but Mulder didn’t laugh this time. He turned to Scully and with a crooked smile, whispered, “shouldn’t that be 1 in 7 billion, doc?”

Tears tracked down her face and fell into her open mouth. Esther fell quiet and the only sound was their kissing. Another noise to add to the symphony of the golden years.

#txf fanfic #my fanfiction #family fluff #msr #baby fic

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