#its simply none of my business! i dont need to know genres to enjoy music! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

damiennazario · 7 years ago

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The Girl With the Broken Smile

Pairing: Maxwell x MC

Summary: In which Maxwell’s rooftop confession comes a lot later - at Liam and Madeleine’s wedding.

Genre/Warning: Fluff, PG

Words: 4,754

Notes: boi ... i never expected to slide my booty over to maxwell. but y’alls prayers have been answered and now this ass belongs to him. i dont know a liam and neither does the mc in this fic. enjoy this overly-fluffy piece of garbage!

You’re watching King Liam and Queen Madeleine's first dance as a married couple.

The two look as stiff and awkward as ever, despite their obvious skill in the Cordonian waltz as high-ranking nobles. Liam is standing a quite notable distance away from his so-called bride, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist, and her face is pasted with a flimsy smile. Nevertheless, the King Father, the Queen Mother, and all the other nobles that are present look on at the king and his wife as they glide across the floor - if you could even call it gliding, Liam looks as if he’s dragging Madeleine across - with thoughtful reverence.

Of course, all of the other nobles except for the members of House Beaumont, Drake, Olivia, and Hana.

You should be more hurt to see this farcical display than you are at present. But the truth is, you just feel numb, the same way you've been feeling ever since the events of the Coronation; and now even more so, given that Tariq has disappeared without a trace, and took along with him your chances of gaining your rightful place alongside Liam, reigning as Cordonia's true queen.

You told Liam that things would be over between you two once he married Madeleine, because no matter how much you loved him, you couldn't stand any more lies or sneaking around, especially considering that it would only get harder to be together once they got married. He and Madeleine may even be pressured to start a family together, while you remain the other woman with no happy ending in sight for either of you. Go figure - starting a family in a loveless marriage while the woman Liam truly loves is left to suffer. How could you possibly keep yourself in a situation like that?

Deciding you're sick of reducing yourself to watching this charade play out - because, after all, you had to sit through the ceremony - you promptly excuse yourself without a word. Everyone's so busy watching Liam and Madeleine that they don't even notice you leaving, but even if they did, they wouldn't care. You were essentially part of the common rabble, anyway. You didn’t have much of a right to be here.

Suddenly, you hear your name, clear as the peal of a bell over the din of the music. It's none other than Maxwell, running up to you with a bewildered look on his face. His presence - and voice, for that matter - seem to shatter the spell induced around you, and a few nobles break their attention away from the dancing newlyweds to scowl at you two.

"Hey, where're you going? I've been looking all over for you," he says, shoulders heaving with the gasps of air he's taking in from running. The last you saw him, he was sitting beside you at the ceremony, holding your hand tightly in his and rubbing his thumb in circles against the back of your hand for encouragement and giving you tiny squeezes every now and then, while you held his hand lamely and gave him weak smiles every time he looked over at you with sadness in his eyes. He gave you the strongest and longest squeeze when Liam kissed Madeleine on the lips for the first time, officially declaring them man and wife. Since then, you felt like you needed some space, since a usually-cheery Maxwell giving you all these pitying looks was too much for you to handle, so you tried avoiding him as much as possible, along with all your other friends.

You smile a sad smile. "I'm just going out for some fresh air, Maxwell. I'm fine, I promise."

Maxwell pouts, his deep blue eyes darkening dolefully. It pains you to see him like this because he's worried about you. Where's the Maxwell you know and love, remaining optimistic and bubbly in any situation? It definitely would've made you feel at least a little better to see that his mood hasn't changed, but now he's much too preoccupied with concern for you to even bother with his mischief, intentional or not. "But you're not fine. You're my best friend, I know when you're not fine. Drake, Hana, me, and even Olivia - we're really worried about you. At least let me keep you company."

You sigh impatiently. "I don't need you all worrying about me. I'm fine. I just want to be alone right now."

Maxwell sighs in return. He knows better than to argue with his little blossom, especially considering how scary you could get when you get angry. Of course, you’ve never once directed your anger at him, but he didn't want to keep pushing your buttons and find out what it would be like on the receiving end of it. So he concedes - if only a little.

"Okay. I'll let you go... on one condition." His lips split into a wily grin. You roll your eyes, cursing whatever it is you said about missing his mischief, because there’s a time and a place for that, and this is definitely not either of the two. Even so, you cross your arms, knowing there's no way you can stubborn your way out of this one.

At this point in time, Liam and Madeleine have separated from each other completely with a mutual curtsy as their dance and the music comes to an end, and the nobles circled around them begin to clap and cheer.

In the midst of the applauding nobles, Maxwell says, "If you're really fine.." he holds a hand out to you, the corners of his mouth turned up in a full-fledged smile that reaches his once-again bright eyes, "you'll dance with me."

You start to turn around exasperatedly. "Maxwell, I don't have time for this -"

Before you can turn around completely, Maxwell has already grabbed your hand, pulling you back around slightly to face him. "Come on, it'll be fun! Don't you remember how fun it was practicing it together? We can show Liam and Madeleine how the Cordonian Waltz is really done."

You sigh and avert your eyes from his expectant ones. Despite Bertrand's ever-growing list of complaints and critiques about your footwork as he observed you both, you did have a lot of fun dancing with Maxwell; he was an amazing dancer and an even better partner, always encouraging you and patiently guiding you every step of the way, literally. And he always managed to make it fun, what with his goofy faces and terrible puns - that is, until Bertrand would reprimand him to stop and ‘train his face’ so he would regard you stoically, as is customary with the dance - or at least Bertrand thinks so.

By the time you've mastered it enough to do it for fun, it felt as though some of his talent and confidence rubbed off on you, and you were more than grateful to him for being such a great teacher. Perhaps, in a way, this would be paying him back.

Against your better judgement, you sigh again and cave to his demands. He cheers and pulls you to the dance floor without missing a beat, barreling through and knocking your body against clusters of several nobles and evoking annoyed outbursts in the process.

Luckily, the two of you have reached the dance floor by the time the next song begins, all angry nobles aside. You recognize it as a pop song you’ve heard back in America a few years ago - perhaps it was selected for its time signature, perfect for waltzing. It’s quite a strange selection when you consider the people involved, especially since this is a royal ceremony, but the fact that you recognize it will make it easier for you to get comfortable, so you won’t be tempted to look over at Liam and Madeleine every two seconds.

Maxwell smiles down at you and pulls you in closer to him, one of his hands acting as a gentle presence on the small of your back, while you lace one of your hands in his opposite hand and place your other hand on his back just under his arm. The good thing about this dance is that there’s no Bertrand here to nitpick every move you make - you’re not the only ones on the dance floor, nor are you the focus of the dance itself, so you don’t have to worry about ‘performing’. Like Maxwell told you, it’d be fun. You take a deep breath and surrender under his gentle hold, allowing him and the music to take you away and lead you into the first move, the box step.

I’d never gone with the wind Just let it flow Let it take me where it wants to go ‘Till you open the door There’s so much more I’ve never seen it before

You feel Maxwell’s hand applying a gentle pressure on the inside of your palm, and thanks to your various lessons, it automatically registers in your head to begin to move backwards, so you do, and he follows your lead. Throughout all your lessons, though, you’ve never once noticed how soft and warm his hand feels against yours. It had simply never occurred to you - it was like a new feeling entirely. You squeeze his hand and look up at him through your eyelashes shyly, and he responds with a smile, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “You look wonderful tonight."

You giggle and feel heat rushing up to your cheeks from the compliment. You’re more than used to getting compliments from Maxwell, but somehow, this one was different. More.. intimate. “Thank you,” you say bashfully in return.

I was trying to fly, but I couldn’t find wings But you came along and you changed everything.

You lift my feet off the ground, you spin me around You make me crazier, crazier.

As these lyrics play, he quite literally leads you into a spin on your tippy-toes that could dizzy anyone, but you’ve trained for this; you’re accustomed to the dizziness by now, and you know to focus on something stationary to ground yourself, so you pick Maxwell. You feel yourself being lifted off the ground in accordance with the lyrics, and squeal with glee because nobody's stopping you, not even the guests dancing around you, and because Maxwell's never done this during your lessons, lest he get a tongue-lashing from Bertrand. But he doesn't have to worry about him now. It's all about you both, and it isn't at the same time. His bright eyes capture yours as you're giggling and squealing and it's as if you're weightless, soaring through the air, free as a bird - you never knew Maxwell was this strong. But the moment is short lived, because he unceremoniously plops you back down on the ground, winded. Looks like he isn't that strong after all.

Feels like I'm falling and I I'm lost in your eyes You make me crazier, crazier.

Maxwell blows a tuft of hair out of his face and smiles at you sheepishly. "Sorry," he says, quickly taking you in his arms again and leading you into the next move, a slower twirl. You can't help but chuckle and shake your head, saying, "It's okay. I was gonna tell you that I didn't know you were packing so much heat under that button-down, but I guess I stand corrected." Maxwell chuckles bashfully in return, leading you back into the box step.

I watched from a distance as you Made life your own Every sky was your own kind of blue And I wanted to know How that would feel And you made it so real. You showed me something that I couldn't see You opened my eyes and you made me believe.

As the chorus repeats, Maxwell begins to spin you again, but knows better now than to bite off more than he can chew and lift you this time. But lo and behold, you focus your gaze on Liam and Madeleine as you spin, and it's like something's knocked the breath out of you as soon as you see how close they are now. You hate yourself for feeling this way. You know what they have is not, and never will be, real. So why does it bother you so much? You suppose it's because they got their happy ending and you didn't, and it just isn't fair. Watching them for so long makes you lose your footing, so you collapse into Maxwell's arms, dizzy. Luckily, he's quick enough to catch you.

"Hey, hey," he says, rubbing your back and tilting you forward so you can stand on your two feet again, "I've got you." But you don't budge. You keep yourself splayed against his chest, burrowing your head deep enough that you can hear his heartbeat, whose rhythm is slowly but surely picking up.

"W-what's wrong?" He babbles, obviously flustered, but making no move to remove you from his chest. He doesn't wait for an answer, though - all he has to do is look beyond you to see Liam and Madeleine, and he knows. He sets his jaw in consternation.

"I just... wish I never put so much faith in fairytale endings,” you say, your voice muffled from speaking against his chest. “I should've known they could never happen to someone like me."

"What do you mean?" Maxwell questions, sounding genuinely oblivious.

Baby, you showed me what living is for. I don't wanna hide anymore.

You pull yourself away from his chest to face him, tears brimming in your eyes and your voice shaking like a leaf. "Don't you get it, Max? I'm nothing special. I'm just some nobody waitress who grew up in some nobody town. I don't know anything about royalty or being royal beyond Disney movies and Henry VIII's wives. I don't have a title or fortune to my name, and because of that, I lost out on my happy ending. I'm starting to wonder why I even thought I could ever get it in the first place."

Maxwell's face begins to become more sorrowful. "Hey, don't say that -"

You cut him off. "Don't say what? The truth? You said Bertrand had faith in me, but I know he's always seen me as the nobody I've always been, and always will be. So does everyone else in this God forsaken country. They don't think I deserve a happy ending, and it's time I realize that they're ri-"

And just then, as the chorus plays one last time, you feel Maxwell's hands on your cheeks, pulling your face to his and pressing his lips feverishly to yours. You're rendered momentarily immobilized by this gesture, powerless to do anything but close your eyes and relish how soft his lips feel meshing against yours.

But just as suddenly as it started, it ends the same way. Maxwell yanks himself away from you, looking completely startled. You can still feel him lingering on your lips. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I’m such a screw-up, I’m sorry, I-“

“Maxwell,” you cut him off abruptly, reaching up slightly to brush his cheek and to turn his head a little to face you, his longing eyes holding the image of a rolling sea under the moonlight. “It’s okay.”

He uses his thumb to rub away a dried stream of tears from your cheek. “I just can’t stand hearing you talk like that. I think you’re amazing, and you’re the strongest person I know. I’m really sorry you had to go through this tonight, but I know your happy ending is out there waiting for you to find it. That’s a promise.”

As the song comes to an end, you let go of him, offer him a mutual curtsy, and a “M’lord” and “Milady” exchange, but when he looks up, he does not meet your eyes.

“So. A deal’s a deal,” he says flatly.

“What do you mean?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I said I’d leave you alone if you danced with me, and you did. So if you need me, I’ll be on the rooftop.” He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond - he just pivots on his feet and eases his way through the crowd, towards the elegant spiral staircase to the rooftop. It doesn’t take you too long to lose sight of him completely.

With that, you’re left feeling lost and completely confused, and that damn tingly feeling still on your lips. What kind of guy kisses you like that and exalts you to the moon, only to leave you so abruptly? Sure, a deal was a deal, but you never would’ve expected him to actually leave you alone after something like that - especially not Maxwell. What the hell is up with him?

Meanwhile, out of the corner of your eye, you see two people seemingly fighting over a microphone - or, rather, one person is pushing the microphone in someone’s face, while the other is pushing it away from their face. When you walk towards them to get a closer look, you see that it’s Drake and the wedding officiator, probably fighting over the best man’s speech.

“Look,” you hear Drake say, “If you think I’m going to put on a show and say some bottom of my heart nonsense about that viper, you’re out of your damn mind, friend. I’m only doing this for Liam, so I’ll only acknowledge Liam, got it?”

The officiator shakes his head and shoves an index card in Drake’s face, most likely listing what it is he should say to the royal couple. Drake responds with, “And how am I supposed to wish them ‘fertility and prosperity’? She probably lays eggs.“

At this point, the officiator has given up, throwing the card aside and muttering something about commoners as he walks away. Now that he’s out of eyeshot, Drake, currently nursing a glass of whiskey, spots you and waves you over, so you take a seat beside him.

“What’s up, New York?" he says to you, sliding you a glass of champagne with one hand as his opposite arm is slung around the crest rail of the chair. "Haven’t seen you since the ceremony.”

“Oh, you know,” you say, shrugging and looking dejectedly into the glass, “I’ve been here and there.”

He lowers his head a little to look into your eyes. “You holding up okay? I realize how hard this must be on you.”

You keep your eyes trained on the bubbles in the honey-colored liquid as they drift to the surface. “I’m fine. Just confused, is all.”

“About?”

Finally, you turn to face him, wrapping your fingers around the stem of the glass.“Well… say you were in my situation. How would you feel if your best friend just kinda kissed you after you were whining about never getting a happy ending just to get you to shut up because he thinks the world of you, apparently, and then just runs away?”

Drake raises his eyebrows, his eyes widening almost comically. “Wait.. don’t tell me this is about Maxwell.”

“The one and only," you say into your glass as you take a sip.

He mirrors you and takes a sip of his whiskey, still looking surprised. Then he chuckles. “Jeez. That’s definitely something. Never knew he had it in him.”

“What do you mean?” you ask warily, setting the glass down.

“Well, to me, it sounds a lot like Maxwell’s holding a torch for you, but doesn’t know how to deal with it. Explains why he kissed you so out of the blue like that, and then left you so easily. He might’ve been embarrassed or afraid he’d come on too strong, especially after all that’s happened to you. This might be his way of giving you time to breathe, out of character as it is for him.”

You furrow your eyebrows pensively and stare at your glass again. Maxwell? Holding a torch for you? That couldn't be right. He's acted as nothing but a good friend to you all this time, always there when you needed him. In fact, he was always the first one there when you needed him. When you left for your flight back to New York after the Coronation, he was the first one at the airport - along with Bertrand, of course. But you remembered what he said to you as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders; "We could never forget about you! We came here as soon as we could." It was so like all the other encouraging things he's said to you, yet so.. distinct at the same time. It was exactly what you needed to hear.

After a while, you realize you've drifted off. Drake waves a hand in front of your face. "Earth to New York, do you read me?" he asks in a deadpan tone. You shake your head and blink a few times, apologizing.

"So now that you've had some time to breathe and reflect.. allow me to pick your brain. How do you feel about all that's happened?" he says, crossing his arms. It's now that you realize that Drake could be an excellent therapist.

You shrug noncommittally. "It's.. really strange, actually. I'm.. picking up on little things that happened throughout our relationship." You then go on to list the various sprinkles of things that you've discounted before, like when you danced with him and told him there was no place you'd rather be, and he said you shouldn't talk like that, because you're here to become queen on behalf of House Beaumont. You tell Drake how great of a friend Maxwell has been to you, always there to pick you up when you're down, and how he's always been your number one cheerleader, no matter what. Liam might've wanted to be there for you after the events of the Coronation, but the fact of the matter is that he wasn't. You didn't resent him for it, but his intentions didn't make you feel any less alone or hurt. At least you found solace in the fact that Maxwell was there for you, if no one else.

You also tell Drake about how Adelaide told you two how cute you looked together, and you joked around saying you did, while he got flustered, but played along anyway. Then, when Penelope was looking for a bachelor, she wondered if she and Maxwell would make a good match, but you tell Drake that you disagreed and listed qualities of someone you thought was his type, and how her saying, 'Someone like you?' really caught you off guard. It wasn't what you meant to insinuate at all, but when you thought back on it.. perhaps those qualities did sound a bit like you.

And then.. there was the camping trip. You regale Drake on all that happened inside the tent with Maxwell - how you tackled him and how nice hugging him felt and how you suggested you cuddle to keep the ghosts away. You may not have been afraid of any ghosts like he was, but you still felt safe there with him.

Finally, you tell Drake how you felt something while you danced with Maxwell tonight. Something was different from all the times you've danced with him before. Perhaps it was the way he complimented you - sure, he always compliments you, but something about it felt different this time. It seems to have touched you in a different way.

You don't understand why it took you this long to figure out, but maybe there really is something between you both. Perhaps it was all the crazy things happening at court and you being too focused on trying to clear your name and secure your rightful happy ending to pick up on all of this, but now you know you have to tell Maxwell.. something.

All the while, Drake nods intently, taking sips of his whiskey. "Well, wherever he is, I'm sure he's waiting for you, so..."

You smile and reach over the seat to wrap your arms around Drake's shoulder in a sort of awkward, yet tight, hug. He's stiff against you at first, most likely taken aback by the randomness of the gesture, but he embraces you back after a while. "Thanks, Drake. I won't forget this."

"Heh. As if I'd let you," he says as you get up and wave at him from over your shoulder, heading towards the elegant spiral staircase that leads out to the rooftop.

The rooftop offers a gorgeous, expansive view of Cordonia. Cute little townhomes dot the hills with their lively light. Crickets chirp above the light hum of the music downstairs, and you catch sight of Maxwell standing at the railing, looking out at the deep purple night sky. It shimmers with stars, a quite unusual appearance in a region polluted with light, but beautiful nonetheless.

You walk towards him and place your elbows on the railing, joining him as you gaze out at the full moon. If he notices your presence, he makes no indication.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You say suddenly. Maxwell jerks away from you with a yelp, startled. Looks like he really didn't expect to see you here.

"Sorry, sorry," you say with a light chuckle, remembering how jumpy he could get.

"It's okay. But, yeah.. it really is." You would think he's referring to the sky as he says this, but instead, he's looking over at you with this longing in his eyes, taking you in as if for the first time. You notice his Adam's apple bobbing.

Before you can open your mouth to say anything, he begins to speak. "Look, I just wanted to apologize. For everything. I know I'm a screw-up, and I only made your situation worse by kissing you after all that's happened. I just.. didn't want to keep hearing you talk about happy endings you won't ever get when it's not true."

He pauses to shut his eyes and take a deep breath, then starts again. "I don't know how it happened, but somewhere down the line, I fell for you. I kept it to myself because I didn't want anything getting in the way of you getting the crown... especially not me. I never would've been able to forgive myself. But now that that's gone.. that just leaves us. I know I don't have everything. I can't give you that fairytale ending. But I want to at least give you a happy one... if you'll let me."

"Maxwell.." you breathe.

He keeps going. "If not, that's okay, too. I know you must want some time to yourself after all this. You can take all the time you need. But, again, I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for confusing you. I'm sorry for being a screw-up. I'm sorry -"

You decide to rudely interrupt Maxwell's pity party with a kiss equally as sudden and passionate as the one he's given you just moments before, cupping his cheeks. Once you trace your tongue along his lower lip, it doesn't take him long to relent at all. You feel his arms encircling your waist as the kiss deepens, and the brisk evening wind is completely nullified with the warmth of his body against yours.

"Stop apologizing. You promised me I'd find my happy ending, and now I’m realizing that it's been disguised as my best friend all along," you say once you pull away, your hands resting on the nape of his neck. You lean in for another kiss, but he places his hands on yours, stopping you.

"What is it?" You ask.

His cheeks are pink and his eyes are bugged out in his traditional flustered expression. Never in your life have you ever seen anything more adorable. "Well, I just.. uhhh.. was wondering if this means you.. like me, like me," he stammers.

"Depends. Does this mean you like me, like me?" You tease.

"It does," he says without a moment's hesitation, smiling as though he's won the lottery.

"So there's your answer, silly," you say, loping your fingers through his hair and pulling him in for another kiss.

#maxwell x mc #trr #the royal romance #maxwell beaumont #playchoices

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toganeshiro · 8 years ago

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Victor Nikiforov May As Well Replace Your Smartphone

fandom: yuri!!! on ice

pairing: victor nikiforov/katsuki yuuri

rating: general audiences

genre: romance, domestic, fluff, humour

word count: 2176

warning(s): none

summary: Yuuri never thought by living with Victor Nikiforov, the living legend, would slowly reduce his need of his smartphone.

mirror link: fanfiction | ao3

Victor Nikiforov May As Well Replace Your Smartphone

Yuri!!! On Ice © Kubo Mitsurou

This is a work of fanfiction, simply written for the purpose of enjoyment and entertainment. I gain no financial profit from writing this.

i. He could be your alarm.

"Yuuri, wake up! We have morning practice today."

Groaning, his palm searched for the duvet and hoping he could pull them up to cover from the chill. Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found. So instead, he settled for curling like a cat and burying his face on the pillow. He knew Victor had raised the curtain without even opening his eyes and he cursed under his breath.

He hated mornings.

Just as he was almost dozing off again, a hand shook his shoulder and he groaned louder than before.

"It's morning, Yuuri. Wake up wake up wake up wake up―"

"Let me sleep..." Yuuri finally mumbled out words, muffled by the pillow yet still audible.

"Nope! Wake up now or Yakov will be mad."

The bed sank near his sides and suddenly a full body weight weighted down on him, his eyes snapped open. "Victor! You're heavy! Get off of me!!"

Victor's arms rested on his shoulder blades with his head on top of them. His toned body should've weighted several kilos more than Yuuri considering his height but he lied comfortably on top of Yuuri, legs swinging back and forth.

"Then promise me you'll wake up~" His neck could feel Victor's breath in his every word, he shivered from the sensation.

"Okay okay!! I'm awake now!"

Giggles were clear on his ears as Victor removed himself from Yuuri. He exhaled a deep breath before searching for his glasses on the nightstand. He stretched his arms and back before walking towards their bathroom, yawning.

It was when his hand reached the doorknob that his phone went off with the alarm.

He returned to the bed and picked up his phone beside the pillow and turned off the alarm.

Ever since living with Victor and sharing the bedroom, he had always been woken up before his alarm went off. Usually he would be hitting the snooze button several times before actually waking up and regretting those extra minutes of sleep he took. In some other times―most of the times, actually―he would just sleep through the alarm ringing in the background.

Regret befell Yuuri every day.

Still, he repeated yet again the very next day.

Yuuri unlocked his phone and clicked on the clock settings. There were eleven alarms listed from 07:00 to 07:10 each having one minute gap.

But now with Victor waking him up every day, his alarm hadn't been doing its job.

He deleted them one by one until his alarm list was empty.

Victor was a better alarm, after all. Instead of just sounds in the background, Victor sometimes even dragged him to the bathroom and helped him brush his teeth. One effective morning alarm, Yuuri should say.

ii. And push notifications.

"Yuuri, Phichit mentioned you in Twitter."

"Your fans said on your tagged video that your step sequence is even more beautifully refined now."

"Wow, your photo reached 500 likes in the first five minutes. Your fans must be delighted you finally posted something."

"Oh, Chris said you look adorable in the photo I just uploaded. You should reply something, Yuuri."

"Yuuri! You really should come and read this thing one of your fans linked to you!"

"Yurio commented on your photo, Yuuri. Should I reply for you?"

Yuuri sighed.

He preferred turning off push notifications for his SNS since they distracted him most of the time. Reading nice comments were nice, but he would prefer to avoid the chance of reading harsh comments and ruining all his confidence for the day.

He wished they had options to filter the positive comments from negative comments.

Who would have thought Victor would gladly be his push notifications filtering only things he needed and wanted to know.

iii. Even be your personal music player.

Yuuri loved music.

He had a good number of songs stored in his phone. From classical to pop songs, video game soundtracks and even catchy Thai songs Phichit recommended. He loved listening to them when he's doing chores, waiting for people, or listening just for the sake of it. He brought his headset with him anywhere, in case he needed them.

But lately his headset had been kept neatly in his bag, only used in practice since he's sharing the rink.

"―che tu... hm―ato forse abbando―hmm..." Victor kept humming while his hands busy washing the dishes.

Yuuri stopped scrolling his Instagram feeds. The lyrics sounded familiar.

He had to say, in all honesty, Victor Nikiforov the living legend, was a bad singer. A really bad one. Out of tune, messy tempo, off pitch. The first time he heard Victor's singing, he had to stare full two minutes at the gorgeous man brainstorming the title of the song he was singing.

However, this time the lyrics caught his attention and he felt like he knew those lines.

Yet Victor wasn't really singing at the moment; he's half humming half singing and Yuuri had a hard time making out the title.

"Victor, do you know you're a bad singer?"

Victor stopped the work of his hands and looked over his shoulder to Yuuri who was resting his head on Victor's back. Face down with his phone hiding between himself and Victor's back. He didn't say anything so Yuuri lifted his head up to meet Victor's eyes―only to see him pouting, before muttering one word; "Rude."

And Victor continued with washing his dishes.

But he continued singing anyway and Yuuri leant his forehead to Victor's back again, smelling the detergent on Victor's sweater before resuming with the feeds of his SNS.

And after a few lines of lyrics Victor sang, Yuuri finally recognised the song.

Ah, it's Stammi Vicino, Non Te Ne Andare.

He hummed quietly following Victor's messy tunes as the lead while waiting for his fiancé to finish working with the dishes so he could give Yuuri the hug he needed.

Might not be the best music player, but Yuuri enjoyed the time he spent trying to figure out the song Victor's singing and humming along Victor's messy rhythm and tunes.

iv. Update your SNS.

After drying off his hand on the dryer, Yuuri took his phone from his pocket which had buzzed a few times while he was washing his hands. He checked and it was a text from Phichit.

dont go yet, I hav smth I need to give u!!

Yuuri frowned and replied, Don't go where?

dont go from the restaurant! I'm around the area, just give me 5 minutessss

He was about to type 'how did you know where I am?' but he stopped and cleared the text field. This had happened a few times before. He closed the text messaging app and opened his Instagram instead. It loaded up with Victor's post was on the topmost.

A photo of Yuuri happily enjoying his extra large serving of katsudon, checked in to the location of the restaurant they're at right now.

Oh.

Of course.

Even without needing to update his own SNS, all his information starting from his location, what he ate, even his activities for the day were all for the world to know through Victor's account.

v. Functions as your translator.

The shoes he tried on fit so well on his feet. But he still thought the colour was too striking for him. An attendant was standing near the display so Yuuri waved his hand and she approached him.

"Excuse me; do you have any other colour for this design?"

She gave him a quizzical look and Yuuri cursed inside his head.

Right, now that he wasn't really in tourism spot anymore of course he should have conversed in Russian and not English.

"Eta obuv'... duru―dru..." Oh shit. Yuuri can't remember the word he needed. He quickly fumbled his pocket to get his phone when someone's hand pressed firm on his shoulder. The voice calmed his getting-rapid breaths.

"What's wrong, Yuuri?"

Oh, Victor came back from the restroom.

"I wanted to know if they other colour for this pair of shoes."

Victor smiled and turned his head to the attendant, "Yest' li drugoy tsvet dlya etogo?"

"Da, pozhaluysta, podozhdite," she nodded and left for the storage room.

Yuuri sighed in relief.

He had been learning Russian bit by bit ever since knowing Victor personally. Yet the intention only solidified after he moved to St. Petersburg. He wanted to be able to at least do daily conversation, but with all their practice for the upcoming season―he just hadn't the time.

And since Victor would be helping him with communicating for the time being, he figured he could take his time before he's fluent in Russian.

vi. Free time? Why play games when you have Victor Nikiforov?

Yuuri had an app of MMORPG in his phone. There was an account with well-levelled character logged in it.

He wasn't as active as he was back in high school, being busy and all. But he made sure to log in occasionally just to the get daily log in bonus (which monthly stamps he never filled in anymore). Then when he had longer free time, he would play for an hour or two.

He loved video games. It's just not too compatible with his lifestyle at the moment.

He missed whole tons of special events and bonuses. Not that he could blame or complain to anyone.

Then lately Victor had been occupying his free time with any kind of activities. It could be just out for shopping or revising their programs. Making his account even more abandoned than before.

He loved his time being occupied with Victor, it was warm and soft and nice and comfortable.

But was he sure to leave his game he loved so much for this?

"I want a day in a week where I won't be disturbed at all for at least four hours."

"Why!?"

"I've been neglecting my game."

And just with that, Victor quietly complied and tried to fit their plans for shopping and other things on one day of the weekend and leaving the other day for Yuuri's game time. He thought it would be harder to convince Victor, but Yuuri was glad Victor understood without commenting more on it.

But of course, at first, whines could be heard from the four hours of Victor being neglected.

Yuuri felt bad for ignoring him and even pondering if he should cancel his request.

But the third week was quieter since Victor settled himself for reading his books on the same couch and tangling their feet in silence. Sometimes knees brushing, or simply leaning on another's chest feeling each other's warmth while doing their own things.

Victor was a good replacement for game time or so did the other way. But Yuuri decided he wanted both his Victor time and game time instead of one replacing the other.

vii. And probably be your reminder?

Weird.

Something had been bothering him since they returned from afternoon practice today. They got home and had lunch, then proceeded to laze on couch watching TV while Makkachin rested on their laps. It's almost evening and Yuuri still couldn't focus on the TV drama Victor loved―not that he could understand what they're saying even when he's focusing.

"Victor... Are we supposed to be somewhere this afternoon?" he finally asked.

"Mm... Nope. Why ask?"

"Just a feeling."

Was it just him, then? But the weird feeling as if he'd forgotten something still hadn't left his chest. Was it a promise for a meal with Yurio? No, he would've contacted them if they didn't show up otherwise. What about their shopping list? Probably there's a sale or something th―

"Ah!!!!" Yuuri nearly shouted, still loud enough to startle Victor.

Panicked, Victor asked, "W-what is it, Yuuri!?"

"Your dentist appointment―" No need to finish his words to get Victor wide eyed. Quickly taking his phone and noticed the time had long past their appointed time. Victor groaned, Yuuri followed.

"I should call them to apologize for this and make new appointment," Victor dialled the number from his contacts.

Yuuri sighed and unlocked his own phone too, accessing the Reminders. He had two lists on them, one of them was "Shopping List" while the other one was titled "Victor".

He accessed the latter and saw several lines there, empty check boxes on each of the lines' left side.

Release date for Victor's fav author's book 26/04/2017, 09:00 am

Buy Yurio a cat if he breaks his own record in Nationals

Meal with Chris Tomorrow, 01:00 pm

Interview with IFS magazine 11/02/2017, 10:00 am

Costume fitting 12/02/2017, 11:00 am

He never needed the app for his own interviews, costume fitting, appointments or promises. So now he wondered why he had to be the one keeping this list in his phone instead of Victor doing it on his own.

Reminders was one of the app that he ignored and sat quietly in the last page of his phone before, but now he's fully utilising the function of this app.

(Ah, unfortunately Victor Nikiforov still doesn't support Reminder feature.)

End.

a/n1: this turned out cuter than I thought.

a/n2: (sorry for if the Russian part was wrong, I used google translate since I know nothing of the language.)

a/n3: thanks for reading!!!

#victuuri #victuri #viktuuri #vikturi #yuri on ice #tshiro writes

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