You’d been working for the royal family for over a decade now. You knew every nook and cranny—every secret passage and hidden room in that palace. It was practically your home. You took care of it, constantly sweeping and dusting and mopping.
You also took care of Jung Hoseok, the spoiled prince residing in it. You always cleaned his room, washed his clothes and made his meals. But then somewhere in the mess of everything, you began taking care of him in a different way.
You always had a close friendship with the prince but that’s all it was—friendship. Until one day, two years ago, he approached you. That’s when it all began, your secret relationship with the seductive prince.
No one knew about your relationship, everyone always assumed it was purely friendship. No one ever expected the handsome prince to fall for a lowly maid like yourself, which made the relationship all the more perfect, in a sense.
At least twice a week you two would meet up for discreet, eager sex, and today was one of those days.
“Come ride me,” Hoseok demanded sternly, eyes already mentally undressing you. He sat in his gold throne with his crown sitting crookedly on his head. His robe fell around him, engulfing him in a pool of black fur.
Yuuri and Victor got too drunk in Sochi and decided they really hit it off, so they got married. Right there. Victor cries because his new son vicchan passed away before he even met him...
Victor Nikiforov tries to make it a point in life to not have any regrets.
So marrying Katsuki Yuuri is definitely not going to be one, if he can help it.
“Victor,” the man giggles now, poking his cheek. “Your turn.”
He’s so, so beautiful. A drizzle of champagne drying on his chin, that god-awful tie wrapped around his hair. His shirt wrinkled, half of its buttons gone. His trousers, entirely disappeared.
(Victor likes that. He likes that he’s marrying a man who’s not wearing any pants. He’s so trendy. Always doing things no one’s done before, surely. He can’t wait to tell Yakov, already eagerly anticipating the strangled sigh-groan-combination that’s become sweet music to Victor’s ears.)
“Your vows, Vic-Victor,” Yuuri prompts him, his laughing mouth relaxing into a small smile on his perfect, perfect face.
Victor blinks. “Right.”
He glances at the minister, who is smiling very politely at them. He’s a bit red-faced from having a wad of rubles thrown at him to “marry us right now, пожалуйста, right now, right here, onegai.“ The man had pointed them towards some preliminary paperwork, asking them several times, “Listen, you have to sign here but are you absolutely sure—”
The looks that they gave him shut him up right away.
“I’m marrying this man,” Yuuri had announced. “So hard. I’m marrying him so, so hard, and then afterwards…” He hiccupped. “Afterwards, I get to take him back to the hotel and-and…”
Yuuri went on to describe in full detail—or in as full a detail as a man pumped full of two bottles of champagne can go—several lovely, intimate, exhaustive courses of action that he also swore he would do so hard. It was perfect (everything he does is so perfect), the minister said he appreciated it, and Victor found himself nodding along tearfully and crashing hard, the impact greater than any fall he ever made on the ice but softer than the thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton comforter he falls into every night that he’s back home in St. Petersburg.
Which reminds him.
“St. Petersburg, Yuuri,” he says excitedly, grabbing both of his hands and pulling him close. “Can’t wait to take you home, show you around, you’ll get to see Makkachin and—you have a dog, right? You’ll bring your dog, and we’ll…”
Yuuri’s eyes fill with tears. “Vicchan is dead.”
“Vicchan? Oh, that’s so cute, that’s like my name, maybe we can make Makkachin’s middle name Yura, then, except—” Victor stops. “Did you say dead?”
Yuuri nods, clutching fistfuls of Victor’s shirt, tears streaming steadily down his face now. “He… there was…”
Perhaps the only regret he’ll have of tonight, then, is learning the news that he’ll never get to see his son and namesake, but he includes in his vows several animals that they’ll raise together, along with the names of four children that he’d decided on since thirty-eight minutes ago. Yuuri sloppily wipes his face with his wrist, pushing his glasses up adorably before adjusting them back on his perfect, perfect nose and saying with a cracked voice and a perfect, perfect smile—
You’re pulled from a peaceful sleep by the buzzing of your phone beside you in bed. You squint at the bright screen to see the caller ID first, it’s Shawn. Next you glance at the time, 2:34am. You take a second to force yourself to wake up a little before allowing yourself to answer.
“I’m sorry it’s so late,” he says. You can tell he’s feeling really anxious, just by the sound of his voice and the fact that he called even though he knew it was late. He wouldn’t have called unless he really needed you. He cares too much about you for that.
“It’s okay, babe, what’s up?” You question, still trying to sound more awake than you are at the moment.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you.” He responds, sounding defeated, and not answering the question of why he called in the first place.
“It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.” You lie.
“You were asleep.” He knows you too well.
“I didn’t want to be. Now baby, tell me what’s wrong.” You gently encourage.
It takes a little more coaxing, but eventually, he does tell you why he called in the first place. He was feeling jet-lagged and stressed about work. Feeling the pressure from all around him, and he just didn’t think he could take it anymore. After about thirty minutes of talking to him, reminding him how much he’s meant to be doing what he’s doing, and how absolutely capable he is, and lastly, how much you love him and are proud of him, he finally seems to be feeling a little better. He apologizes for waking you, but truly you don’t mind at all. You still have a few hours left to sleep, and he has to start getting ready for the day, so you say goodbye to him, promising to text him when you wake up in the morning.
harry saying nothing rn is totally cool and fine IF he’s still on hiatus and not dropping an album in 10 weeks (or less). the registration of a touring company does show an intent, regardless of when it’s going to happen. so, i really hope he’s not putting out an album until after dunkirk. mainly because he’s so distanced from 1D fans right now and it makes him look like a person that i know he’s not.
if he were to wait until after dunkirk, it would be perfect timing. he would have re-engaged his fans and also engaged new ones with dunkirk promo…awesome segue!
and yes, i’ve been a total supporter of harry’s right to silence during this hiatus. which he DOES have and it’s totally copacetic IF he’s continuing hiatus until around when dunkirk promo starts. but to just not be engaged at all and then suddenly drop something out of NOWHERE and just expect everyone to buy it just because we’re here…seems arrogant and presumptuous and i don’t like it.
so…in conclusion…i love harry TO DEATH, as if he were my own, but i don’t like this vibe right now. don’t get me wrong, i’mma still buy his album but…i don’t like the whole… situation (IF it is in fact, the real situation) and jeff should Do Better if this is happening Soon.