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

All we know (Pt. 8) - Y.Plizetsky x Reader x V.Nikiforov

Work Text:

(Y/N) wakes up to the light of the late morning sun seeping through the large gap between the seemingly frosted blue curtains that Yura had forgotten to draw close.

She finds herself carefully tucked inside the comforters- alone.

Noting the slight ache on her chest at the absence of the person who took the liberty to glue its broken pieces back together, she subconsciously reaches out to feel the fleeting warmth of vacancy on the wrinkled sheets beside her.

The faint smell of coffee, bacons and eggs wafts through her nostrils and allows herself a momentary diversion from the sinking feeling in her stomach.

She sighs -although she doesn't know if it is because of delight or disappointent- and rolls on her back to spread her arms and legs wide to at least fight against the anxiety caused by the nagging emptiness in such a large bed.

The (Y/nationality) skater feels fresh and new, if not a little bit upset. Like the break of dawn in a rainy morning- one that she had missed by oversleeping. Something that is supposed to be normally appreciated, but she couldn't bring herself to because of circumstances.

Memories from when it was a silvery full moon that hung up above the bewitching sky rather than the blinding afternoon sun resurfaces and all she could see once more is the thin sheen of sweat that made alabaster skin glisten with an ethereal glow, making that angelic being seem more like a perfectly sculpted statue brought to life rather than a flawed teenager that is madly in love with her.

Ironically, she wakes up without the weight on top of her chest yet with a heavy feeling in her heart.

It paves the way for doubt to settle in and parade all around the streets of her mind. Its ugly head leering at the memories she believed she had from last night, twisting and turning until she's forced to think that it had all been a miraculous dream her sad and lonely mind had created.

Whatever bits of her remaining resolution begins to falter and she was just about to feel sorry for involving Yurio with her corrupted fantasies when her attempt to sit up was interrupted by a throbbing pain on her nether regions.

(H/C) brows knitting together in confusion, (Y/N) lays back down and lifts a hand up to rub her forehead.

At least, that was what she originally intended to do had she not seen the hickey on her wrist.

Pulling the comforters down, she sees one just underneath her navel, on each of her inner thighs and on her left breast.

The word 'Gala' framed in flashing lights appears in the forefront of her mind and she inwardly freezes and begins to feel around her neck in a frenzy.

Just as she was about to heave a sigh of relief at the assumption of a negative, she flinches.

On that spot just beneath her ear, is a bona fide love bite.

Then she remembers a slumbering blond nestled on her bare chest sporting a contented smile and her heart skips a beat at the precious reminder that it had all been real.

Checking that bit off her list of worries for now, she allows half of her to think about what time it is as the other wonders about the teen's possible whereabouts.

(Y/N) listed two or three likely places with great difficulty seeing as, contrary to popular belief, Yurio isn't really too fond of leaving the premises of his own hotel rooms during the skating season.

He adores his fans, yes. But he couldn't really be trusted to handle the more obssessive ones without outwardly freaking out himself.

She suppresses a giggle at the mental image of a conflicted Russian teen torn between wanting to run the heck out for his life and staying behind out of the sheer kindness of his fluffy crowd-pleasing heart.