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safetycar-restart · 2 years ago

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I'M HEERRREEEE

i looooove writing crybaby!charles in the juiciest way possible mmmhmhmhmhmm 😈 evil gang 😈

okay but.

crybaby!charles is the most precious thing alive. he's so sensitive, but what can he do about it? it's just how he is, he can't help it :(. people loved to point that out about him negatively, but the fact that you accepted him made him start looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

often when he's had a long day, whether you're there or not, he'll just burst into tears. when he's alone, it's worse. it's just loud, loud sobbing and whimpering, balling up on the bed, or the floor of the living room or the hallway, waiting for you to arrive like a sad, lovesick puppy. he hates being alone, without you, because he doesn't know how to manage or control his feelings. they're too big for him. that's why you're there, to kiss him and hold him, to ground him and shush him with that sweet voice of yours. the voice that makes him feel so warm and fuzzy, like he's home. if he thinks about that, along with whatever is bothering him, it's going to upset him even more. you're so amazing and he loves you so much, but you're not there, while he's so sad and upset? a big no no from charlie!

so when you walk through the door, he comes SPRINTING towards you, clinging onto you for dear life. he rambles about how much he missed you, how much he needs you to help him, to calm him down and tell him he's a good boy while kissing his head.

so you do. you take him to the bedroom, lay him down on his favorite, soft maroon red blanket. he's pawing at your chest like a kitten, whining until you let him under your shirt and the place he thinks is more magical than disneyland - your tits. it's kind of a funny sight, just his head forming a huge bump under your shirt while the rest of his body hangs next to you. it makes you smile, but as funny as it is, it's comforting for him, and you'll always let him have it. sometimes he'll just lay there, head on one of your boobs while he plays with the other. other times he'll suckle on it, while he fondles the other.

saying this, obviously charles has an oral fixation. he's suckling on your boob, whining, whimpering and huffing when you tease him and joke with him. he's like an actual baby, very needy and at peace when he gets some �� in his mouth. you pull the shirt over his head so the poor thing can breathe, cause he might just suffocate the way he's going at it. and oh. he looks up at you with the cutest doe eyes ever. it makes you pout and smile, letting out and "aw" at the view, so adorable you could cry or scream right then and there. he smiles up at you and HE 😭 he's a little ball of fluff your honor!

he likes sucking on your tits as a way to relax and help him sleep. so, often, you'll see his eyes slowly closing and his eyelids getting heavier, his suckling slowing down, but he almost always falls asleep with your nipple still in his mouth? he always sleeps so well after that.

maybe you suggested getting him a pacifier for when he's alone and stressed, leaving behind one of your hoodies that smell just like you when you're gone, so he can wrap it around a pillow and cuddle it, pacifier in mouth as he suckles on it until he calms down (is this drifting off into little!au kind of not really i don't know????) and often you'll just find him in the bedroom when you come back, looking up at you with wide eyes and pacifier in mouth - and he looks adorable!!!!!! cuteness agression would get the best of me and i'd squish his cheeks right then and there ;)

- 📓

Alright everyone buckle up, time for the daily “Charles obsessed with titties” ask and today we have a WONDERFUL one. I adore this. It’s so so so good. I’m gonna try and add some thoughts but it’s already incredible.

Firstly, yeah the fact that you actually love and encourage the emotional side of him is EVERYTHING to him. He’s other partners who tolerated it, but at some point they always stopped trying to comfort him and made him feel like his emotions were a burden.

He never meant to be a burden! He just feels so much so quickly and he can’t stop the tears.

But then you come along and not only do you wipe away his tears and offer him endless cuddles, but you actually praise him? You thank him for trusting you enough to let himself cry in front of you, promising him that he can always get comfort from you, that you’ll never turn him away.

And that’s just…. That’s everything. He never even let himself dream that he could find someone who loved him like that.

But now he has? Now he has you? How he has his mommy?

He loves you so much.

So obviously coming home without you is a big no. He always needs to decompress after a long and tiring day, and decompressing almost always involves some tears. It’s sometimes just a few tears in the shower, but other times he’s sobbing before he even manages to lock the door behind him.

It’s all just too much for his little heart. He’s just sobs on his own, crying his eyes out because he feels so much and it’s so intense and he needs his mommy to help!!!

Often you’ll end up getting a call from him if you’re not home? And they call never fails to break your heart because he’s always in tears. There’s no way for you to get to him, since he’s often away at a race. But he still begs you to come anyway, crying his little heart out cause he wants his mommy.

Maybe that’s where the idea of the pacifier comes from? You think about how much he loves to suckle on your breasts, how happy and safe it makes him feel.

He’s a little uncertain when you suggest a pacifier, but he trusts you completely so of course he’s going to try what his mommy suggests.

And he loves it? The first time he tries it, he’s cuddled against you. You’re reading to him and his head in your lap, sucking on his new pacifier and holy fuck he’s obsessed. Of course it’s not as nice as your titty, because nothing will ever be as good as that.

But it’s good!! And it helps him calm down.

Maybe you make sure to pack a pacifier and one of your hoodies in his back for his next race? You didn’t even tell him, just pack them away in there.

And when Charles calls you in tears, you tell him where you his his pacifier and your hoodie and the poor thing starts crying even harder, overwhelmed with how lucky he is and how much he loves his mommy.

It’s not a proper replacement for you, because nothing would ever be able to do that. But it helps. It helps so much. It’s so much better than being alone. Especially if you’re on the phone with him and he can hear your voice?

Listening to you talk, cuddling your hoodie and suckling on his pacifier. It’s good. It’s so so good. He can feel himself calm down and he falls asleep just like that.

Sometimes he doesn’t need to call you, sometimes he can just calm down on his own. But he always needs his pacifier and his mommy’s hoodie.

Though of course the moment he gets home, he needs cuddles from his mommy. Immediately!! Even if he arrives in the middle of the day, he still needs to cuddle and suck on you a little and take a nap.

It’s so so good, just cuddling under your shirt with suckling on your titty and allowing himself to float. He’s so happy there, so warm and safe and he can hear your heartbeat and listen to your voice and it’s perfect.

Sometimes he’ll start crying there? Even if he wasn’t crying when he starts suckling.

It’s never bad tears though. Only ever good tears when he starts crying there. He just gets overwhelmed with how much he loves you?

If used to worry you when you’d suddenly feel him start to shake, but not anymore. Now you just lift your shirt up and smile down at him, wiping his tears away and kissing his head.

#sub!charles #cl #soft soft vibes #nsfw.#f!reader #📓

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pilindiel · 8 years ago

Text

The Promise of the World Pt. 6 |AO3|

Pairing: Victuuri

Rating: T

Word Count: 5113

Excerpt:

An unusual flare of anger and frustration runs through him and Yuuri stands, bones creaking, as he glares down at a fire that withers beneath his gaze. How dare he? How dare he?! This is not the time for games or trickery or secrets. Yuuri wants to scream, wants to fight, wants to stop the stammering of his heart in his chest and all he thinks of is monster and every time he closes his eyes he sees that mass of feathers and teeth and hears the pain in Victor's voice and god Victor. Victor is drifting from him and he's like water and Yuuri can't catch him; he slips through the crevices and cracks in Yuuri's wrinkled hands.

The castle lurches, lumbers and creaks as Yuuri tries to sleep, but the mattress pokes his back in all the wrong places and the ground adds unnecessary extra pressure. He slides in and out of consciousness, listening to the gentle crackling of Christophe's fire, until the front door clicks open and Yuuri is sure his heart stops. His body stiff.

Heavy, wet footsteps fall dully on the floor and Yuuri forces his eyes closed. Something tells him he shouldn't open them – a thickness that settles in the air and presses him down into the mattress.

Chistophe crackles, his voice hushed but alarmed. “This is bad,” he hisses, “You've gone too far, Victor.”

A stench fills the air as Christophe's answer, sickeningly dry and sweetly metallic. Yuuri's muscles don't even protest as he whips out of bed just in time to see Victor's hunched shadow disappear up the stairs. The smell burns his eyes, stings his throat, and Yuuri feels like gagging at the sight before him.

There's blood and feathers trailing to the steps, like a wounded bird tossed around by a hungry cat, and Yuuri reaches out to the dull gray plumage with shaking fingers.

It disintegrates at his touch, turning into a pile of putrid ash.

The light from the fire is gentle and warm, but none of it reaches Yuuri's chilled skin as he leans over the edge of his mattress, slipping his boots hurriedly onto his feet.

Everything feels distant like the world is both moving in slow motion and too fast. Yuuri isn't sure if his vision tunnels or if it's just an effect of his glasses in the dark as he makes his way up the stairs, but it is simultaneously too long a trek and too short a climb for his pounding heart.

The air on the second floor is dense like a fog; humid and weighty. It doesn't even seem like Yuuri's eyes adjust to the onslaught of darkness, he just knows instinctively where to go and lets invisible lines pull him further into the endless gloom.

He reaches Victor's bedroom door in what feels like no time at all, and his long fingers hesitate, skimming the handle.

“Victor?” he hazards, but his voice is far away and all Yuuri gets in response is the sound of rasping breath, like wind through the rafters.

Yuuri takes a moment. Braces himself.

The door opens with a gentle push and Yuuri nearly staggers back at what's inside.

Victor's room is cavernous, destroyed, empty. It's like a long cave now, his decorations and colorful knickknacks embedded in the mud walls and ceiling haphazardly, like they were thrown about in a tantrum.

Yuuri does not linger on them. The wind blows past him, through him, and he feels none of it.

He follows Victor's breathing, his rasping sighs, and walks on nothing.

Before him is a massive shape, writhing and curled in on itself. The feathers along its body are long, gray, and its huge chest heaves with every breath.

Yuuri's heart clenches, but he steps forward. “Victor?” he breathes, reaching a hand out, “Are you in pain?” The body shudders, shies away from his hand, and drags long claws against the wall. Yuuri swallows hard, heart hammering. “Tell me what's happening.”

“Go away...” The figure growls and Yuuri catches the sharp white of long teeth, protruding from a huge jowl. Everything inside him tells him to step back, to reanalyze and approach from a different angle, to get help but something spurs him on, forces his mouth to keep moving. Maybe if he does, he can keep Victor here.

“No, I'm not going away!” he says resoundingly, fists clenched at his sides, “I'm going to help you break this spell that you're under.”

The creature shifts, feathers fluttering and shimmering in an sickly way. “You?” he wheezes, voice grating his throat, “You can't even break your own spell.”

Yuuri's eyes burn, voice wavering. He can't stop anything he says, his mouth unwieldy and loose and heavy all at once. He barely hears himself over the roar of the wind and it's like he's watching it all play out below him even though he's still standing on the ground. “But you don't understand, I love y- ”

“You're too late,” Victor snarls. The wind whips at Yuuri's clothes, burns and shrivels his skin and Victor takes off into the night, leaving Yuuri alone at a gaping maw overlooking the darkness.

Yuuri's voice is raw, he's crying, but he can't move. “Victor!”

The clanging of water in old pipes wakes Yuuri with a start, but his heart is still back in that darkness, back in that dream, beating a terrifying rhythm in his chest. His old muscles complain when he suddenly stands, but his eyes are on the stairs, his breath caught in his throat.

He tries to remind himself to breathe, and distantly he can hear Yurio and J.J., complaining about something over the crackle of the fire.

“Victor just got in,” Christophe says. His voice is surprisingly clear and it cleanly cuts through Yuuri's panic. Yuuri sits back down on the lumpy mattress with a sigh, hand to his clammy temple.

A dream. Of course it was a dream.

Thank God.

“How did he look?” Yuuri asks hoarsely.

Christophe's sympathetic smile slips, his stare turning solemn. “Not good. You need to figure out to break this spell quick, Yuuri.”

Yuuri places his hands on his knees, watching as his fingers trace the patterns of his flannel pajamas. “He'll turn into a monster, won't he?” he murmurs.

“You know I can't give the details of the curse,” Christophe sighs, chin propped up on a half scorched log.

Yuuri curls his fingers, making a fist. “Do you know what Yakov said?” He looks up, meets Chistophe's hazel stare with a level one of his own. “He said Victor's heart was stolen by a demon.”

Chistophe slowly blows smoke out through his nose. “I can't tell you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri's eyes burn. The panic gives him some sort of haughty courage, even though his hands are shaking.

“What if I dump a bucket of cold water on you?” he threatens.

If Yuuri is fire, then Christophe is ice and his look is level and controlled, snuffing out Yuuri's flames. “If you drown me,” he warns, “Victor dies, too.”

An agitated, high-pitched shriek startles them both and J.J. flies down the stairs, Yurio hot on his heels. They both look like absolute messes: J.J. is sopping wet in what looks like different colours of dye, his purple shirt splotched with green and black and Yurio is covered in dust and flour. The taller of the two reaches the landing first and slides behind Yuuri, using him as a human shield, and Yuuri can already feel his temple prickle with an oncoming headache.

Yurio jumps down the last three steps, his hair tousled and expression murderous. He stands before Yuuri, clutching the backhand of a broom with vicious ferocity.

Before Yuuri can even ask why, J.J.'s muffled voice splutters into life behind him.

“Victor promised me years ago that I would get this castle!” he shouts petulantly.

Yurio's flush is so violent that Yuuri can see it even through the white powder streaked on his cheeks. “He did not!”

“Yes he did!” J.J. insists, gripping tightly to Yuuri's shirt, “He said if I found his heart then I could have the castle!”

Yuuri's breath catches at the word and he's reminded of Yakov's smugness the other day, the hot realization of exactly where Victor's heart lies.

His stomach flips and his eyes quickly dart to the ground, a flush burning his neck.

Christophe's fire snaps at his side.

Yurio bristles, face twisted into a terrifyingly upset pout. “Fine,” he spits, “Then where is it?”

J.J. tenses behind him and Yuuri feels the boy shift to his other foot. “It's here somewhere!”

Yurio puffs out his chest, brandishing the broom with more intent. “See?! I knew you were lying.”

“I know the location,” J.J. demands, “That should be enough.”

“That doesn't count!”

“Says who? You?”

Yurio's squawks in agitation and turns his furious glare to Yuuri, who swallows thickly at the menacing gaze.

“Tell him he's wrong, Yuuri,” Yurio commands, poking his weapon into Yuuri's personal space. J.J., on the other hand, yanks the back of Yuuri's shirt in protest; his cold, sticky fingers making Yuuri shudder in disgust.

“No way!” J.J. whines, “Yuuri knows I'm right. Right, Yuuri?”

Yuuri takes a deep breath through his nose and pinches the bridge, trying desperately to stave off the pounding of his head. 'Good morning's were not in order, he supposes. Goodness knows what sort of horrid mess they left in their wake upstairs.

“Enough,” Yuuri barks. He jerks his poor shirt out of J.J.'s grasp and snatches Yurio's weapon out of his hands, giving both children admonishing stares. He purses his lips and immediately they shrink, eyes wide. They're ridiculous, the pair of them; two prideful children just far enough in age to butt heads.

Yuuri has half a mind to just send both of them upstairs to clean up whatever chaos is on the second floor, but he frowns at them both instead, hands on his hips. “Why don't we just ask Victor when he gets here?”

“Ask me what?”

Leaning against the banister is the wizard himself, white shirt loose around his chest and tucked into dark trousers that hug his hips tightly, showing off his beautifully long legs. His smile is a playful quirk of his lips, his eyes alight with mischief.

“Victor,” Yuuri breathes. Their gazes draw to each other like magnets and the way Victor's smile softens makes Yuuri breathless.

Victor glides down the rest of the stairs and Yuuri can't look away. Victor doesn't either, even as Makkachin bounds down the stairs and nearly slams into his knees.

All arguments are nullified when the boys see the large mess of fluff and fur, eyes full of wonder and excitement. Makkachin rushes over to them immediately, barreling headlong into J.J.'s chest and knocking him to the ground with a squeal of surprise.

“We are keeping this dog,” Yurio proclaims resolutely as J.J. struggles beneath Makkachin's weight.

Victor's strides are smooth as he makes his way to Yuuri's side. This close, Yuuri can see the gradient of green to blue in his eyes, the plumpness of his lips and the long flutter of his silver lashes. The look in Victor's face is fond, gentle, and Yuuri wants to fall into it, knowing full well Victor would catch him.

Yuuri swallows and Victor's eyes track the action before skimming back up to his face.

Victor reaches up with a graceful hand and brushes some of Yuuri's long bangs away from his forehead, his fingertips grazing his scalp. The movement is casual, almost automatic in the ease Victor does it, but it makes Yuuri's heart stutter manically, stomach shaking his insides.

Victor's gaze doesn't waver and his hand lingers, fingertips softly outlining the shape of Yuuri's cheek down to his jawline. The feeling is like static, delicate electricity sparking from Victor's skin to Yuuri's, and Yuuri's mouth parts on a silent gasp, his body hot.

Victor's expression changes almost imperceptibly, but there's a shift in the corner of his eyes, a different pinch to his brow. It tugs sharply at something in Yuuri's chest.

He looks mournful when he pulls away, taking Yuuri's breath with him as he drops his hand.

Victor suddenly turns to the group, beaming, and Yuuri's skin feels cold with the loss of contact. “We've got a lot of work to do,” Victor announces, “We're moving!”

“Moving?” J.J. asks, resigned to his fate as Makkachin's new favourite napping place as the dog curls up on his back comfortably.

“Yakov is hot on our trail so we have to hurry.” He motions for Yurio to follow him and the boy lights up, shaking some of the dust out of his hair before pulling a piece of chalk out of his pocket. Yuuri raises an eyebrow, but Victor gives him a playful smirk before practically skipping down the stairs to the awaiting crisp air outside.

Everything that happens next feels like a blur. One moment Yuuri is cleaning up from breakfast and the next Victor and Yurio have returned, telling everyone to sit on the dining room table. The dutifully do so and J.J. wraps his arms around Makkachin's fuzzy neck to keep him from jumping off.

Victor draws a symbol on the floor with a flourish and Yuuri can only see part of it from his perch on the table. It's like a segmented circle, with an eye-like shape on its upper half and sharp lines drawn towards the center.

With a satisfied smile, Victor stands and strides over to the fireplace, hefting the steel ash shovel in his hand.

Christophe crawls onto the metal with a teasing grin, flames licking towards the ceiling. “Be gentle with me.”

Victor smirks in response, standing at the center of the circle. The air crackles, but Victor is poised and pristine. “On my mark,” he says, extending an arm.

It starts with the air. It's electric and pulsing, thrumming like a heartbeat and the wind picks up, swirling around the room and tugging at their clothes. Victor is a blur of colour: blues, purples, grays and whites that revolve around him and spread through the room and up into the rafters. The sounds follow, like air being blown into a balloon but faster and it bows the wood of the castle and stretches the floor with cracks and groans. Yuuri watches as the walls expand, the ceiling raises, the ground shifts. Colour changes around them, all circulating outwards from Victor and Christophe's combined power, and Yuuri is stuck in his seat as new furniture slams on the floor and pops into existence around them. It's mesemerizingly chaotic and impossible to follow and just as soon as it starts it ends, punctuated by the blaring of a train that rattles a brand new window.

Yuuri lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and closes his eyes for a moment, coming down from the tension.

Wait.

A train?

J.J. and Yurio are up in seconds, jumping around their new home with exuberance at the size and the furniture and the courtyard, but Yuuri slides of the table slowly, his feet tapping on the shining walnut floor.

He makes his way over to the window in a daze, air caught in his lungs, and puts a hand on the cool glass to steady himself.

Narrow alleyways and thin streets. The clanging metal tram. The red-brick homes and their clay gabled roofs.

The aroma of fresh baking breads and the quiet hum of the afternoon streets nearly bring Yuuri to his knees and he clutches the window frame, throat tight with emotion. “But...But this is – ”

Victor's voice cuts through the air, cuts through his thoughts with his smooth voice and lilting excitement, and Yuuri turns to him through his haze. “Over here, Yuuri!” The way his mouth forms around Yuuri's name feels unreal, too intimate, but Yuuri is drawn to him anyway, like magnets beneath his skin pulling him ever closer to Victor's gravity. Victor's smile is wide, incredibly pleased, and his hand is on the handle of a door by the stairs. He opens it with a gentle push and Yuuri's brain is a muddle of confusion and flustered energy. “I added on another bedroom,” Victor says as Yuuri stumbles into the room on unsteady feet.

It's a bedroom. It's his bedroom. It's his little bedroom from his little hat shop and that's his desk overlooking the streets below and his window that rattles and all Yuuri can do is gasp over the lump in his throat as he looks around, staring at the same wispy drapes and the same downy comforter.

Victor is kind enough to not encroach on this moment, staying in the doorway until Yuuri is ready to face him, and Yuuri is grateful for it. He's not sure he'd be able to say anything right now without breaking his carefully controlled facade. Instead, he lets his eyes wander, fingers dragging against the grain of the built in desk and the small pile of unopened boxes on top.

It feels like an eternity before Yuuri finds his voice, but Victor stays all the same; ever patient. “Why'd you do this?” he murmurs.

“So we'd have a room that suited you,” Victor explains quietly. Yuuri's blood rushes to his ears and he knows they're turning red. “Do you like it?”

Yuuri wrings his hands, fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeve. Victor's kindness is too much, his appreciation too deep. Yuuri isn't worth this, surely? All he can do is clean and make hats. It can't be more than a thank you.

His stomach churns, his eyes downcast.

He's not worth all of this.

“Of course,” he mutters, “It's perfect for a housekeeper.”

Yuuri doesn't need to see Victor's face. He doesn't want to see the disappointment. The disgust as Yuuri's skin shrivels and ages. It's bound to be there; that quiet revulsion he feels whenever he looks at himself or catches his reflection. Everyone else must feel it, too, even someone as bright as Victor. “I got you some new clothes too, but you can open them later,” Victor says. His voice is light as he drags Yuuri out of his introspection, and he motions for Yuuri to follow.

Victor leads him to the front door with a spring in his step and when he turns his smile is eager, eyes alight. “See the new color on the dial?” he asks and Yuuri nods dumbly, watching as Victor twirls it to a comforting red. “It's a new portal.”

Victor swings the door open and the light breeze that blows through ruffles the edge of Yuuri's shirt.

“It's a present for you.” Victor smiles and there's that fond look again, that softness to his eyes. He extends a hand towards him, lithe fingers reaching out for a companion. “Come see.”

There's a barrier between them that broke at the palace. Some quiet understanding that touch was too far, that Yuuri couldn't handle it, that Victor didn't want it. But it's easier now to accept neither of those hypotheses are truths, and Yuuri takes Victor's outstretched hand in his own, letting the warmth coarse through him. Victor's smile crinkles at his eyes and oh, Yuuri has to look away from its brightness with a small smile of his own, a delicate flush to his cheeks.

They walk through into another world.

Yuuri swears it must be magic, because from his vantage point they've strolled straight into a painting.

Victor opened the door to a valley of wild flowers, all pinks and yellows and soft reds with sweet aromas, littered as far as the eye can see. They're sheltered by tall mountains, snow-caped with encroaching forests, and they're high enough that clouds roll lazily through the field, caught on the wind.

There are pockets of water that glitter like glass, tiny lakes that reflect the calming blue of the sky and the swell of the mountains and the tapestry of flowers.

Yuuri doesn't even know if he's breathing, too lost in the colours and the warmth and the man beside him, who gently squeezes his hand.

“You like it?” Victor wonders, leading Yuuri further in, “It's my secret garden.”

“It's incredible!” Yuuri exclaims, trying not to bend any of the bright stems as they walk, “Did you use your magic to make this?”

“Only a little,” Victor hums, “Just to help the flowers grow.”

Yuuri has no idea how far they walk or for how long – time barely seems to pass when the ground beneath their feet is peppered with such exquisite beauty and they're protected on all sides by rolling hills.

Or maybe it's the man holding Yuuri's hand that makes time stand still, that continues to make Yuuri's stomach flutter, that makes his chest warm with every pulse of his heart. He catches Victor staring at him more than once, an appreciative glance from the side, and it makes his ears burn pleasantly.

Yuuri decides to sit on the grass after a while, to admire the rolling sky and soft hills from a different angle. He's so at peace, so comfortable. He could spend hours here and not feel a second of it.

Victor sits next to him in moments. There's so little space between them, thighs pressed together on the springy ground. There is still a childlike hesitation to their touches even though the barrier was leveled, and Yuuri feels Victor's pinkie poke his like it had weeks ago, a quiet question that Yuuri answers with a nudge of his own. Yuuri's skin still warms as Victor's hand rests over his, thumb brushing his knuckles affectionately, and Yuuri keeps his gaze on the distant mountains, his smile thoughtful.

“Yuuri?” The way Victor says his name is elegant and soft like a whisper, like he's worried he'll break Yuuri from his trance.

“It all seems so familiar yet I know I've never been here before,” Yuuri breathes, “It's lovely.”

A breeze blows Yuuri's bangs out of his face, rustles the grass. Victor's smile softens in adoration.

“Yes,” Victor murmurs breathlessly, not looking at the hills or the sky or the flowers, “Incredibly.”

Yuuri has no idea how long they stay like that – it could have been minutes or hours, but when Victor squeezes his hand and shifts, Yuuri turns to him.

His chest lurches.

The space between them shrinks, becomes warmer, liquefies. There's something intense about Victor's eyes, something brewing beneath the storm of his irises and he tightens his grip on Yuuri's hand almost painfully. There's something he's trying to say – Yuuri can see it build on his tongue, swell in his chest, a weight that Victor can't dislodge from his throat. Yuuri's skin boils when Victor leans closer, when the world around them stops and Victor is all Yuuri can see, is all he can focus on.

What are you trying to say?

Yuuri's heart is thudding like an off-beat drum and his eyes widen when Victor's other hand cups his elbow, keeping so little space between them that Yuuri can feel the way Victor says his name, a rasping puff of air caught in the space between their lips.

Victor is looking at him but Yuuri can see his mind is clouded. There's something stopping him from finding solace and comfort in the intensity of his expression.

Yuuri's face burns, chest aching. Victor squeezes Yuuri's elbow, like if he lets go Yuuri will float away, and Yuuri so desperately wants to tell him that that could never happen, that Yuuri's not going anywhere.

There's a loneliness in Victor's gaze, a desperation. Yuuri wants to reach up and smooth his thumbs over the strain in Victor's face, to ease the pressure, but his body is frozen, breath stuck in his lungs. He waits for Victor to move.

It's all he can do.

Victor closes his eyes and lets out a shaking breath that caresses Yuuri's face. His fingers curl around Yuuri's and he pulls Yuuri's hand to his lips, pressing a hard kiss to Yuuri's knuckles. Victor's brow furrows, eyes shut tightly, and though Yuuri's pulse thrums at the contact, he can't help but feel a chill.

Victor pulls Yuuri to his feet, his head spinning.

What was that? What was that?

Victor leads him further down the hill and Yuuri's jumbled mind can only focus on their clasped hands. Victor's smile is there but it's distant, a mask.

What were you trying to say, Victor?

Victor slows to a stop and Yuuri stops beside him, following Victor's gaze to where a small bungalow sits, made of faded sandstone and overlooking a large lake. There's a small water wheel that creaks as it spins and a tiny set of stairs that leads down into the grass and flowers. Though the colour is a contrast the little shack fits, Yuuri realizes, snuggled between a well trodden pat on either side where countless treks have receded the line of vegetation.

“What a cute cottage,” Yuuri breathes.

“That was my secret hideaway,” Victor replies. He smiles more easily as he talks, threading his fingers with Yuuri's. His look remains distant though; trapped in memories of his past. Yuuri tries to remind himself not to stare. “I spent a lot of time here by myself when I was young.”

“You were alone?” Yuuri wonders. The expression that crosses Victor's face is fond, and there's a tenderness there that seems to tell Yuuri his assumption is correct.

“My uncle was a wizard and gave me this place as my private study,” he explains, “Now you can come here whenever you'd like.” He flashes Yuuri a smile but it's reticent, reserved.

He pulls away, to lead Yuuri down the hill and closer to those memories, but something settles heavily in Yuuri's chest and he hesitates. Victor's arm falls limp at his side and he turns, concerned.

“What's the matter?”

Yuuri can feel himself withdraw, can feel the tension in his skin and the closing of his throat, but he pushes through them despite the wavering of his voice. “It's...Y-You're scaring me.” The look on Victor's face tugs at his heart but Yuuri presses on, tripping over his words. “I-I have this w-weird feeling that you're going to leave.” Yuuri glances nervously at Victor's expression, but it's unreadable. He stares at the grass by their feet. “Please, j-just...tell me what's going on. I don't care if you're a monster.”

Victor's smile returns to him, like he is always pleasantly surprised by what Yuuri has to say, and walks back into Yuuri's personal space.

“I'm just setting things up so you can live a comfortable life, Yuuri,” he says, but his voice is sunless and hollow and so full of fake cheer that it makes Yuuri's stomach twist. “With all the flowers in this valley you could easily open up a flower shop. Right? I'm sure you'd be good at it!”

“So you are going away.” Victor's face falls and it's all the answer he needs. Yuuri bows his head, inches it closer so his head nudges Victor's shoulder. “Please, Victor,” Yuuri murmurs, “I know I'm not...” He swallows. “I'm not pretty but I – ”

Victor surges forward, a hand gripping Yuuri's shoulder and Yuuri's eyes fly to his face, wide and honest. “Yuuri, Yuuri. You're beautiful.” Victor seizes Yuuri's hand, holds it tightly in the space between their chests, and Yuuri keeps his eyes fixed on them as his shrivel, skin bunching up and wrinkling.

Ugly.

Yuuri can't stop the sting to his eyes, even as Victor tightens the hold he has on him. “I'm glad one of us thinks so.”

Victor's expression pains, crestfallen, and Yuuri stares at the ground, watching the wind caress petals of purple and white.

Yuuri can see the effort it takes for Victor to tear his gaze away and it feels like Victor takes Yuuri's heart with him, leaving him empty and hollow.

The clanging of metal and steel causes Yuuri to jump and the loud whirring of engines disturbs their silence, punching the air.

A huge airship careens slowly over the mountains into their quiet little sanctuary, lurching through the sky and cutting the air with its heavy sound. The smoke it billows out is thick and black and Yuuri's nose scrunches up at the smell.

It breaks through their clandestine getaway, and the restlessness between them shifts to something far more severe.

“What is that thing doing out here?” Victor growls, “Looking for more cities to burn?”

“Is it the enemy's or one of ours?” Yuuri murmurs.

“What difference does it make?” Another appears on the horizon, chugging engine loud and metallic, and Victor snakes an arm around Yuuri's waist. Yuuri isn't sure whether it's for his own resolve or Victor's. “Those stupid murderers,” Victor breathes, “We can't just let them fly off with all those bombs.”

Victor swipes his arm through the air and suddenly there are alarms blaring from the battleship, the wings of it snapping in an off kilter rhythm. It slows, but doesn't stop.

“What's happening?” Yuuri gasps, “What did you do?”

“Just messed with it,” Victor replies unhelpfully. The smirk on his face is strained and Yuuri grabs his arm before Victor can covet it behind his back. It's burned, blackened, and flecks of dull gray feathers poke painfully through his skin. YUuri's stomach lurches.

“Victor – ”

“Uh oh,” Victor titters, “Here they come.” Creatures fly from the ship, bodies a mass of black goop and flares of colour, with wings that are more metal than flesh. They swarm in the sky, pinpoint their targets, and dive.

Yuuri doesn't even have time to suck in a breath, no time to let his nerves and fears get to him, before Victor has him in the air. His words don't reach Yuuri at all; fighting against the rush of the wind and the pounding of Yuuri's ears. Yuuri hears Victor say his name, what feels like the whisper of a kiss to his temple, and in seconds Yuuri is floating through the front door of the castle, tumbling onto the steps.

Shocked and overwhelmed, all Yuuri can do is stare. The dial clicks to yellow as Yurio and J.J. return, but all Yuuri hears is the rattling of the windows and the way his name forms on Victor's lips.

#victuuri #viktuuri #yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #fic: the promise of the world #fic: tpotw #Ahhhhhhhhhhhh HHHHHHH #the flOWER SCENE #mmmhmhmhmhmm #im so gay for this scene you guys #im p proud of this one #pil writes

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