Do You Wanna Build A Snowman? - Viktor Nikiforov x Reader

Close your eyes (and I will make your dreams come true) Part 1: Viktor x Reader

Work Text:

(Y/N) had been quite the adventurous dreamer. Always wanting to do all types of things and be everything that she can be.

It was all ranging from the most ordinary dream of a five-year old kid to be an astronaut or a ballerina to the most extreme of wanting to skydive by the age of ten. She also had quite the imagination to couple this all up and make her a walking, living and breathing daydreamer with her head a palette of different yet vividly colored ideas and brand new dreams every single day.

She could recall having one point in her life wherein she would've wanted to be a figure skater. The girl could remember drawing herself in skates by the age of four.

But then she turned eighteen, college and the dawn of reality happened and in the blink of an eye, (Y/N) could no longer find it in herself to dream.

Growing way too focused on studying for a future she's yet to see as a (insert course here) student. Afterall, that's all that's left for her to do in such a time as this. Dreaming is already out of the question, she couldn't let her head stay in the clouds anymore.

Dreams, she thinks, wouldn't get me anywhere anymore. Not this time in her life. All there is to do is do whatever she can at the moment to trudge towards that path that would help her bring money to their family.

Being the eldest child, (Y/N) holds a lot of responsibilities, especially now. Her family's future practically depends on how well the job she would apply for in the future would pay her.

It's crushing.

Brutally. And along with it, it took the child in her down the drain with the shambles that were formerly her dreams.

Still, she couldn't shake that sketch of little four year old (Y/N) on the ice. She remembers inwardly dying yet understanding that her parents couldn't afford such an expensive...hobby.

She remembers the tears that threatened to fall, the longing ache in her chest whenever they would pass by skating rinks. Recollects the pangs of envy she could feel at the children who so freely glided over the ice in expensive skates with their hands clasped on either their parents' or coach's larger ones.

The entrance fee for rinks, of course, wasn't free, and (Y/N) never really had her own skates so there'll also be the problem of having to pay for the lending fee. She never really came from a wealthy family.

(Y/N) had often attributed the inability to fulfill her dreams on this, she knows it's wrong but that doesn't mean she'll stop doing so anytime soon.

Money -as her parents drilled into her head- is practically the basis for everything you can and cannot do; the person you can and cannot be; and what people would think or not think of you. The wealthier you are, the better; the poorer you are, the more chances you'll be treated as some dirty welcome mat more successful people would scrub their feet on and pass by as insignificant.

She didn't mind this, of course. (Y/N) had always tried her best to rise above such monetary incapabilities and be the best that she can in whatever she does. Sometimes it's enough, sometimes it isn't. (Y/N) tried not to mind the consequences whenever it's the latter and opts to hone herself to try harder the next time around.

Tomorrow would always be another day afterall.

(Y/N) thought it would be a fine arrangement: doing her best in school, getting straight A's, owing up to the expectations placed upon her shoulders by different people, and perhaps doing one of two things she would want to do -that she actually can- at the moment.

Such a monotonous arrangement could only be fine for so long. Everything just suddenly grew boring and predictable.

The sinking feeling that she could've done something else -that at least one of the many things she would've really wanted to do could have at least taken the front seat of her life- began eating her up day by day.
Drawing her inspiration to push through the days with life and vigor -and perhaps a fresher point of view- out like how a vampire would suck the life out of its victim with such slow and torturous precision.

(Y/N) thinks that there could at least be one or two things she and that so-called victim might share: the gradual deprivation of oxygen and the will to live, and the realization that there's no getting out of that hole alive and unscathed.

The girl sighs for the nth time that day. The only time she managed to arrange a well-needed break from all the school work she's doing, and those depressive thoughts just seemed to pick this as the right time to trouble her with their very much unneeded presence.

Dressed in a simple turquoise hoodie with her matching headphones on, (Y/N) is just some other ordinary person in a pair of jeans and black converse. (H/L) (H/C) locks tied in an ordinary ponytail to make up for another ordinary day spent doing things as ordinary as breathing and walking about with millions of thoughts plaguing her supposedly sound mind.

(E/C) eyes scanned her surroundings and her gaze fell upon clusters of people accumulating around their local mall's skating rink.

She blinks. Normally, this part of the mall isn't so crowded, "and today's a friday. If I remember correctly." she fishes her phone out to check the date. Sure enough, it is currently the 23rd of December 2016, Friday.

Brows furrowing, she half contemplated about walking over just to check whatever it was that's causing such a ruckus before remembering that the main reason she even went out in the first place is to clear her thoughts and approaching such a large mass of commotion would surely have the opposite effect on her.

Plus, she's not too keen in having to squish herself in such a populated place.

Deciding to just let her curiosity slip this time, she was just about to turn around from where she came when her phone rang.

Slipping one finger across the screen, she tapped the button to answer the call.

"(B/F/N)? What is it this time?" she muttered, tone even yet undeniably noting how dare you even try bother her me during one of my very few rest days.

"(Y/N)! Have you heard of it?!" came her best friend's overly excited voice.

(Y/N) flinched, instinctively moving the phone away from her ear before she asked, "What?"

And oh god had she just made the best decision in her life because otherwise her eardrums would've been permanently damaged and she would be rendered deaf beyond reason for the rest of her life.

"VIKTOR NIKIFOROV IS IN (M/N) RIGHT NOW!" her friend full on squealed-slash-yelled from the other end of the line and (Y/N) bets it could be heard across their street up to their neighboring town.

"Viktor Nikiforov? You mean the skating legend?" (Y/N) began, slowly, still having quite a hard time processing the information, "What would a top figure skating champion be doing here in Hasetsu of all places?"

Because seriously, what else would be of major importance that would drive Russia's living legend out of his home rink during this time of the season?

-----To be continued