#my first notes date back to feb 15 exactly I— | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

op-peccatori · 4 years

Text

Hopefully, Yours (part 2) | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Victor/Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 8326

Summary: It took some cake, a friend, and some impulsive behaviour, but they got there. (part 2 of Hopefully, Yours)

Warnings/Tags: making out, language, my cheeseball antics

a/n: I was afraid of opening this doc at one point because every time I did I added more words to it ;; Also accidentally deleted the first draft, so I hope I didn’t leave anything out for this one.

[video]

After Hours | Victor and Y/n

200, 280 views • Feb 8th, 2020

‎‎

JTV ✓

1.19M subscribers

‎‎

5100 comments

‎‎

somsom 5 minutes ago

They’re both so nice. Victor’s always made out to be this heartless CEO, so it’s nice to see this side of him :)

‎‎

tooktiktook 7 minutes ago

hmmmMMM

‎‎

cheribb 15 minutes ago

their eyes said more than enough <3 <3

‎‎‎

saltqueen 16 minutes ago

what i wouldn’t give to have someone look that soft over me

⌨⌨⌨

Victor eyed the cheerful grin splitting Jason’s face, just a little uneasy in his seat.

While having eager eyes on him was not an unfamiliar experience, he’d never been in a position where he was expected to talk about his feelings on camera. Not that he was about to confess in front of the entire crew of the show, but when it came to you the lines always got a little too blurry for his comfort.

He got a little too eager.

“Just be nice,” Jason had instructed gently, and Victor steeled himself.

They started, quite predictably, by asking him about his ideal type. Resisting the urge to scoff, he tried to stick to the script he’d worked on with Goldman, who had insisted on being present for today’s shoot. Not that Victor was complaining; it wasn’t exactly part of the job description, but Goldman had been enthusiastic, which Victor could appreciate and would certainly reward.

Goldman had also spent most of yesterday handling the public relations department in his absence, preparing them for his appearance on the show. A tentative plan would be sent to him by tomorrow morning. He had faith in them, believing that they would be able to make this look good for him.

“Someone who works hard,” he answered, knowing you would laugh at that. “Who can be themselves around me, someone I can be myself around. Someone...kind.”

The times you’ve spent in Souvenir flit through his mind, some quiet and some full of bright-eyed chatter.

“You’ve known Y/n for some time, right?” the interviewer asked. She looked nice, but he’d been on the block long enough to know that even the kindest faces can often hide the sharpest teeth.

“Yes.”

“What do you think of her?”

“She’s a very kind person,” he said easily. “One of the most hard-working and inspiring people I’ve ever met.”

You would surely gape like a fool after seeing this. It was a little embarrassing, but Victor was determined to leave your image shiny after this. He would not have any words of his twisted to give you a bad name. If it got even a fraction of his feelings across, well, that was a bonus he wouldn’t mind having. The intimate setting of the ferris wheel had seemed to help some, but his admittedly indirect confession didn’t reach you as he had hoped.

God, but his father would love this.

“Did you have fun on your date?”

“It was lovely.” They tacked on another question and he nodded. “I...yes, I’d love to do it again.”

It was a little curt, but he didn’t really get what Goldman had meant by ‘nod tenderly with a far-off look.’

What would you think of that?

The interviewer raised a brow, her smile widening. “Let’s get to it, then. How do you feel about her?”

For some bizarre reason, the first thing that had come to his mind at this question was his inexplicable need to check your social idea every day. And the way his heart beats just a little faster when you’ve posted a new picture. How, in moments of weakness, he’d given in and saved a few to his phone. Even a mental reminder of it made him a little hot under the collar.

There were many things he couldn’t even begin to try and explain when it came to you.

Really, the list is endless.

Victor’s current favourite was the video you’d uploaded of eating the tiramisu he’d cooked. He watches it at the end of a bad day and just like that, he feels a little better.

“I think anyone who ends up with her would be the luckiest person in the world,” he said honestly. “She’s beautiful in every single way.”

The last three words were supposed to have stayed in his head, but saying them felt natural. Goldman seemed to approve, shooting him a discreet thumbs up.

When you walk in, sleep-deprived and grumpy but trying to hide it, thinking he won’t catch on as if he isn’t running sharp eyes over every inch of your face. When the first sip of your coffee is too eager, leaving your tongue burnt and him with a pressing need to soothe it with his own. When you eat too much sugar and complain about a stomach-ache; he scolds you for it, but his arms are left straining with the need to wrap themselves around you.

He cherished these moments and wanted every single one all to himself.

She makes me greedy.

“Would you want to be that person?”

Victor laughed, light and incredulous.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

“I guess time will have to answer that question for us,” he said, the ghost of a smile on his lips, leaving it at just the right note to keep viewers hanging—right along with him.

lightscameranaps ✓ @jasonp

Hope y’all enjoyed the episode! #HopefullyYours

‎‎

bandanaman @headaccs

@jasonp sooo really sorry about this but we’re kinda dying over here

‎‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs Victor’s acc is still private. Maybe there’s something there?

‎‎

srirachafire @hotsauce

@berryberry But Y/n’s isn’t private, and there’s nothing there. Give it up guys, they’re just friends.

‎‎

bandanaman @headaccs

@hotsauce bruh that look?? was not friendship

‎‎‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

@hotsauce those words?? were not friendship

‎‎

srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs @berryberry you two?? are hopeless romantics

‎‎

lightscameranaps ✓ @jasonp

@headaccs honestly? me too D:

‎‎

bandanaman @headaccs

@jasonp !!!!!! asdfgdvsd

Closing your Moments and the entire thread discussing the episode, you flop back down onto your mattress. Reaching for your newest plushy, you hug it tight, perhaps a tad too aggressively.

It’s odd. You struggle between the visceral sort of pleasure that comes from a job well done—because the response is terrific—and the trembling nerves that come from watching yourself on a date with Victor.

Watching the episode had been harder than you had expected; you hadn’t quite been expecting the way Victor was looking at you—the intense gaze was a little too convincing, and watching it from the audience’s perspective was flustering.

You spent most of it trying to suppress the inconvenient surges of hope, telling yourself it wasn’t real.

There really was nothing to know. The ferris wheel shot had ended there because you had nothing to say to Victor’s answer. You don’t know if he was referring to his past or his present, but the look in his eyes made it clear: his feelings were still there. Instead of pressing him, you chose to stay quiet, exhaustion clear in your face and sinking deep into your bones.

Victor had seemed to understand and maybe even appreciate it, probably not wanting to discuss it either, and only insisted on dropping you home. The ride to your place had been mostly silent, but you had tried to ask him his thoughts on the day and the shoot. He kept his answers concise, appearing a little distracted, which was so unlike him it made you wonder if he regretted opening up.

You’d spent the entire ride trying to quell the delicate little thing trembling in your chest.

The next video started while you were lost in your thoughts, and it happens to be your individual parts. Curious, you lean in, wincing slightly at the way you were fidgeting.

And then they switch to Victor. You both had to wear the outfits from the date for these, but you still weren't quite expecting the impact his voice alone would have on you.

And as always, those fierce eyes have you freezing in place.

“Let’s get to it, then. How do you feel about her?”

He looks unfazed by the question. Of course, they go over the questions with you beforehand, but you still remember how nervous you’d felt when asked how you felt about him; Victor’s eyes flick towards the camera, filled with intent, as if addressing you—and you close the laptop with a snap, your throat tight.

You don’t have to watch that right away.

You had been very careful about what to say, how to act, channeling your inner-Victor to adopt a marble-smooth expression. Say nice things about him? Easy, you didn’t even have to make anything up. Imply just enough to keep people guessing.

Keep your unwanted feelings to yourself.

Palm coming to rest over your heart, pressing down as if it would alleviate the ache there, you try to sort through your thoughts. You never really thought there was a chance, but to hear it confirmed was a blow you weren’t prepared for.

It’s ridiculous to feel so insecure, you think. You feel like you lost a competition you had never even had the chance to compete in. And over an unnamed, mysterious figure? So silly!

But another part of your mind says it’s okay to feel this way, that it’s only natural. You’ve had such strong feelings for Victor for so long. And all of these feelings, the good and the bad, are yours; the wounds of your heart, the light in your laughter. Fighting them would only make you suffer. The love and the hurt are part of you, both important in their own right.

Knowing all of that doesn’t make it easier, though.

After all, Victor had alluded to his feelings on camera, to your face. Knowing him, he would never do that unless he was sure about the person.

“This fucking sucks,” you admit out loud, and at the heels of your words come the tears. Because, to make it even worse, people really seem to think it’s you.

You can’t blame them, because even you had been taken in by his soft looks. Anyone watching would believe he’s smitten with you. Good for the show, terrible for you.

You’re not strong enough to reply to them, to tell them you aren’t that fortunate, and have been hoping Victor, or someone from his team, would put a stop to it.

But there hasn’t been any word from them and you curse out loud at the fact that he expects you to do something about it. As if there’s any more emphasis needed, your phone vibrates. Unlocking it with a miserable sigh, you scroll down quickly.

‎‎

Minor [19:40]: am I watching this right? Boss, are you dating the CEO? PLS SAY NO

Chik [20:21]: You bitch. When were you going to tell me you snagged THAT? So I was right back then, ha! Anyway, you two are adorbs. The puppy eyes are disgusting. I’m proud of you.

Chik [20:22]: also...deets. Now. I’ll even throw in a please!!!

Lucien [20:40]: Well, now. I seem to have missed out on quite the opportunity.

Kiro [20:45]: I wish you’d invited me. But I guess it wouldn’t have mattered. I hope he makes you happy, Miss Chips! He better, or else ;P

‎‎

Frowning at the texts you scroll back up, hoping, hoping, hoping, and at the sight of the name that always sits at the tip of your tongue, you curl up tighter.

‎‎

Victor [21: 05]: Are you okay?

Y/N [21:20]: I’m fine. Moments seems to be blowing up, haha. Did you watch the episode?

Victor [21: 20]: Yes.

Victor [21: 21]: Did you?

‎

You pause at that, looking guiltily at your laptop. You had, sort of. Fighting off your own thoughts had taken up most of your attention. Resolving to watch it again—a clear display of previously dormant masochistic tendencies, roused by Victor— and actually pay attention this time, you turn back to the screen.

‎

Y/N [21:22]: Yeah, but not the individual parts. It was nice, they made it seem so real! But we’re going to have to say something to let them know there’s nothing like that.

‎

You wait anxiously for a reply, a part of you clearly suffering from delusion hoping he’d oppose that. When there’s no text from him for a few minutes, you plug your phone in to charge and get out of bed, heading for a quick shower before you get something to eat.

Heartbreak hasn't been enough to curb your appetite, and you feel more than ready to let dessert have the chance to make you feel better.

Who needs Victor when you have cake, right?

Just as you’re halfway through cutting a slice of the cake Jason—well, his team—had sent as thanks, trying to keep your thoughts away from the bottle of wine you‘ve got tucked away, your doorbell rings, breaking the melancholic silence of your apartment. A part of you wants to roll your eyes at your dramatics, while the other feels you have the right to wallow for as long as you need to.

The irrational side of you stirs once more, conjuring thoughts of Victor rushing over, and you peep through the hole with a wildly thumping heart.

Lucien’s serene smile chases those thoughts away, and you open the door with a sheepish grin.

He looks a little tired, his dark bangs ruffled; unlike his usual sharp appearance, he looks impossibly soft in his barn red sweater and comfortable looking track pants. He’s also got a folder tucked under one arm.

“Hi!”

“Sorry to drop by so late,” he greets you, his warm eyes bringing you a little comfort instantly. “But you mentioned you’d be working on Miracle Finder tomorrow and I wanted you to have the chance to go over my remarks before that.”

“Lucien! Thank you,” you insist, waving away his apology. “Would you like to come in? I’ve got cake.”

He searches your face for a moment, and his eyes narrow the slightest bit. You feel a little self-conscious in your over-sized sweatshirt and shorts, but it’s not like he hasn’t seen you in various states of disarray before.

“Can’t really say no to that. Let me get my laptop,” he finally agrees. You wait at the door as he gets it, before leading him in. But you notice his curious, inquisitive looks, so subtle and so Lucien, as he toes off his shoes.

“Everything okay?” You reach for another plate, cutting a second slice as Lucien takes a seat at the table.

“Yes, of course. It’s just,” he hesitates, and there’s that odd scrutiny again. “I wasn’t expecting you to be alone.”

“On a Sunday evening?” The first bite of the cake tastes like sweet comfort over the taste of despondency, and you send a silent thanks to Jason. “I spent the day napping.”

“Well, after the show I just watched,” he says, quite slyly in your opinion. “I wasn’t even sure if you’d be home.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in dating shows.” You’re aware your tone is more than a little petulant, but Lucien only laughs around a mouthful of the cake.

“I am if you’re in one,” he retorts. “This is quite nice, by the way.”

“The director, Jason sent it. And, honestly, it wasn’t planned. We were supposed to have Kai and Hollow on, but they ended up clashing horribly. Jason asked me and Victor was around, so…” you trail off, uncomfortable.

“Is that why you texted me that day?” He seems to have remembered your message, and you wince slightly. You had texted him later with an apology, but hadn’t really expected him to cotton on. He doesn't look mad, just expectant.

“Well, yes, but Jason wanted, he wanted Victor.” Stumbling over your words, heat suffuses your skin as you flounder for a moment.

Lucien watches you with the eyes of a fox and the understanding of a good friend. “Just Jason?”

“Huh?”

“Was it just Jason who wanted Victor?” he asks, tilting his head as your mouth purses.

No, no, of course it wasn’t. You stare down at your half-eaten cake, the other half of it beginning to churn in your stomach. His small, soft smiles. His scent. His rants on street food and the way he dragged you away from food that would ‘absolutely make you ill, you absolute dummy’ as Jason resigned himself to having to cut all of that out. It all comes back in a rush, your head left feeling heavy.

And then it feels the weight of a hand, as Lucien reaches over to pat it gently. “Never mind. Why don’t you get your organizer and we can go over tomorrow’s episode?”

Relieved, grateful and slightly emotional over his silent acceptance, you rush to your bedroom to find your notebook and laptop, barely catching the light of your phone screen before it went black. Unplugging and checking it as you exited the room with your materials in hand, your train of thought comes to a screeching halt.

‎‎

Victor [21:59]: Do you really believe that?

Victor (2 missed calls)

Victor [22:15]: Y/n.

Victor [22:16]: ...Did you fall asleep?

Victor [22:18]: Dummy. Goodnight.

‎‎

Unwilling to delve into what his first text means, you shift your thick planner in your arms and type a quick reply.

‎‎

Y/N [22:19]: Hi! Sorry. I went to get something to eat and then Lucien dropped by. We’re going to get to work haha ^^

Victor [22:19]: …

‎‎

You wait for a whole minute before Lucien calls for you, and let your hand fall, phone locked, with a sigh.

Well, at least he’ll be happy to hear you’re working hard.

Sinking into familiar, engaging discussions with Lucien is easy. Even with the thoughts of Victor looming at the back of your mind, you straighten out a plan for the shoot. Lucien listens to your input carefully, adding his own notes as you squint at yours. His voice, familiar and soothing, lulls you, distracting you from yourself for a short while.

Before you know it, it’s eleven and you’ve got a fantastic plan in hand.

“I’m sorry I kept you so late,” you say for the second time in a minute, and he gives you an exasperated look. “And thank you.”

“I’ve told you, there’s no need for all that between us,” Lucien repeats, crossing one long leg over the other as he adopts a thoughtful look. “However, perhaps you could satisfy my curiosity regarding one thing.”

“What is it?”

You were prepared for a philosophical question. What he comes up with is, in your opinion, way more difficult to answer.

“Why aren’t you with Victor?” he asks seriously. You blink, uncomprehending.

“Like, right now?”

“Right now, or in general. I didn’t think he would just...let you be,” Lucien mutters the last part under his breath, but you still catch it. He continues to say something about possessive bastards, but you’re not touching that.

“I think you’ve misunderstood,” you say, slowly, with a nervous laugh, shoulders hunching a little. “All of that was just for the camera. Victor and I aren’t like that.”

“But you have feelings for him,” Lucien points out, cutting straight to the heart of the matter and yours. Really, this is almost cruel. Lucien turns to face you fully as you sigh and sink back into the couch.

“I do.” It’s the first time you’ve admitted it out loud. Sure, some of the people in your life have had an idea, but you’ve never said it. Lucien seems like a good person to start with. “But he doesn’t feel the same way, so.”

And you’ve never said that out loud either. It hurts, as you put it out into the universe. As if shying away from it before would have increased your chances.

Lucien looks at you oddly. “Did he say that? Because the way he looks at you says otherwise. It’s quite embarrassing.”

You feel heat creeping up the back of your neck.

“I’ve never told him how I feel,” you mumble, pressing the side of your cheek into the soft fabric, hoping it would swallow you up.

“Then how do you know how he feels?” Lucien continues to probe, and you exhale forcefully because it’s so clear to you; why isn’t it ever as clear to everyone else?

And Lucien is supposed to be your smart friend!

‘Well, there’s also someone else in his life but I can’t exactly say that.’

“Because it’s Victor,” you declare with an emphatic sweep of your hands, hoping it would somehow get your point across, that it would explain how unattainable he is. Just as you do, two things happen successively.

One: Lucien looks at you as if he wants to boink you on the head or laugh really loudly. He does neither, but his mouth twitches violently.

And two: there’s a series of loud, heavy knocks on your door, before the culprit seems to remember you have a doorbell and rings that instead. It only rings once, but you can sense that the person is still there.

Exchanging alarmed looks with Lucien, you rise to your feet and shuffle towards the door.

“Let me,” Lucien murmurs, stopping you before you can reach the entrance, and steps forward to look through the peephole. His only reaction is a quick, sharp exhale before he steps back to unlock the door.

Without telling you who was just knocking at your door like a maniac.

“Wait, who i-” the words fall away with your panicked thoughts, as Lucien opens the door to reveal your uninvited visitor.

It really is Victor this time, with his chest heaving as if he’d run up the stairs. Victor, with his inky hair pushed back carelessly, in dark grey sweats and a light grey t-shirt and indoor slippers.

Victor, with a furious look in his eyes as he pushes past Lucien, who looks a little too entertained in the face of such ire.

“Sorry to intrude on your cosy evening,” he says, after a short pause, through clenched teeth. You stare at him in disbelief, unable to form actual words at the moment. It feels as if a concentrated storm itself has swept into your living room, ready to swallow you up.

Of course, a part of you would be more than okay with that. Even with that knife-sharp glint in his eyes, you can’t help but want to throw yourself at it, let it graze the softest parts of you, in an emotional variation of bloodletting.

Sometimes you surprise yourself with the things you think.

Maybe you should’ve changed into nicer pyjamas after all, damn it.

“Victor? What-is everything okay?” You look him over carefully, seeing no visible signs of injury. The stony look on his face, however, keeps you from coming too close. What could you possibly have done now?

Swiftly, you run through a list of work-related tasks. Nope. Nothing. You’ve been sure to give it your all this week just so Victor wouldn’t feel the need to call you.

Even now, though, something under your skin starts buzzing, as it always does when his entire attention is on you.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t everything be okay?” he says mutinously, crossing his arms over his chest. Okay, you’re sensing more than a little hostility here.

And, because life is unfair, bitchy is also a good look on Victor.

“Well,” you draw out, looking past him at Lucien, who shrugs lightly. Victor frowns at the exchange. He levels a downright lethal glare at Lucien, who tilts his head in clear interest. Kinda hot, but you should probably keep that to yourself lest you push Victor to the point of spitting fire. “It’s...late...and you’re here…?”

That has his mouth doing that little spasm it does when he’s pissed. “And I notice I’m not the only one. What, is it just me who’s barred from coming to your place this late?”

“Well, n-no,” you stammer, looking once more at Lucien who seems content to watch and be unhelpful. “But Lucien was just here to talk about tomorrow’s episode.”

Why are you here?

The question seems to hang in the air, unsaid yet clear.

Victor says nothing, standing tall in your living room like an indignant matron. You feel helpless, confused, elated and increasingly offended because of the implication in his words that only catches up to you now.

You pick the path of offense.

“But what, exactly, did you think Lucien was doing here?” you ask, your tone turning decidedly cooler. He returns your glare. Behind him, you see Lucien trying to hide a smile. “You seem to be under the impression that I make it a habit of entertaining people in my evenings?”

Victor blinks at that, arms coming loose, and you hold up a hand.

“And even if I did want to have friends over at night,” you say loudly, through gritted teeth. “What business is it of yours?”

“It’s inappropriate,” he insists.

“No, what’s inappropriate is you coming into my house and telling me who I should, or should not, be spending time with, regardless of the time.” Much to your frustration, you find yourself blinking back tears as your voice cracks towards the end.

Victor deflates at that, the ice in his expression melting in the face of your furious tears; Lucien, concern clear on his face, takes a step towards you. Your eyes squeeze shut, as if that would hide you from them; anger and embarrassment war within you at not only crying in front of Victor, but to have a quiet Lucien witnessing this ridiculous drama.

Where did your peaceful day go?

You hear footsteps, hesitant and barely audible, come closer, feel the heat from a body as it nears yours.

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave.” It’s Victor.

Your eyes snap open to the sight of his back, your feet carrying you forward without the aid of your thoughts, a hand curling loosely into his t-shirt.

Leave? Just like that?

He stops in his tracks, looking back down at you in surprise. You’re not sure what he sees as you keep your eyes fixed on his shoulder, but it makes him sigh softly.

A thumb wipes under your eyes, gentle, and strong arms wrap around you carefully, pulling you into an—unreasonably broad, you think—chest; his comforting scent envelopes you, pulling you back from the edge.

It’s frustrating. You want to yell at him for barging in like a lunatic. But you don’t want him to leave. You want to sink into his steady embrace and allow the solace it brings.

With your face pressed to his t-shirt, you miss the way he looks back at Lucien, who nods and turns to leave, but not before holding Victor’s gaze for a moment longer—you don’t see the warmth drain from his face, the vicious warning warning clear in his eyes.

Victor pulls you closer, nodding once.

If Lucien’s answering smile is a touch more resigned than amused, neither of them can really acknowledge it.

You try to pull back when you hear the door close gently, but Victor cards a hand through your hair and you slump back into his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, stroking your hair, with a gentle hesitance uncharacteristic for the decisive man. “That was...extremely inappropriate of me. I should not have done that. I can leave. I should.”

He should. But neither of you move. His heart beats a little faster, the sound clearer the longer your ear remains pressed into his chest.

With cotton in your mouth, your mind totally mush with the knowledge that Victor’s hugging you, and with the little voice yelling that he does not get to hold you after driving you to tears—it takes you a moment to form a response.

But you can’t resist. “So what you’re saying is you made an impulsive decision.”

The soft motions of his hand pause before he huffs into your hair. There’s no other response, and it makes you smile a little.

“Why did you?” you finally ask. Victor quite visibly lost his cool. While he did seem to have something against Lucien, this was a bit much. You hadn’t been aware that the hostility ran this deep.

He tucks your head under his chin, the arm around your waist tightening, and as the anger subsides, your face begins to heat up as you realize how intimate this is. But Victor seems content to stay like this, and your heart hammers when you feel something brush the crown of your head.

“Dummy,” he mutters, and yes, his words are slightly muffled by your hair, and you feel the urge to stick your head in the refrigerator. “You had that guy over this late at night. Do you really need to ask?”

“It’s just Lucien,” you respond, and this time he lets you pull your head away to look at you with abject disbelief.

“Just? There’s no just with that guy.” He seems serious, so you swallow the laughter bubbling up.

“Lucien is a dear friend,” you assure him. “You were really that worried about it?”

“Worried,” Victor repeats, staring at you. Your confusion is clear in your face, as the feeling that you’re missing something creeps in. “Worried. Yes. I was worried.”

You nod encouragingly, and take a quick step back when he laughs. It isn’t one of his airy laughs, that escapes him when he finds something funny. It’s low, almost strangled—and then he steps forward, expression melting into sheer intent.

When he speaks, his voice is a full octave lower and it scrambles your brains with shameful ease.

“Since he was the one you considered over me for our date that day. Yes, I suppose I was worried,” he muses, matching every unsteady step you take backwards with one towards you. You refrain from pointing out that it was for a show, and all too soon, the back of the sofa hits your hips and Victor looms over you.

You tuck the part about him knowing you wanted to ask Lucien first away for later. Victor, his soothing scent, the heat from his breath, his tempestuous gaze—your senses flood with him.

“Y-yeah. But you didn’t need to be, he always helps us out,” you point out confusedly, and he gives you a familiar, unimpressed look that brings a small, and odd, measure of relief.

“What kind of a person would I be,” he says, and your stomach swoops as he leans over you, hands resting on the top of the sofa as you lean back. “If I let dangerous men like him think they have a chance with you?”

“Dangerous? He’s…” The rest of his words catch up and you can’t think, tongue struggling to form coherent speech. “Not...dangerous?”

“Too dangerous,” he murmurs, lips brushing over your temple. Something in the back of your throat trembles. “Even if I don’t have the right, I…”

He doesn’t continue.

Holding your breath, you count to five before releasing it, pulse beating an anticipatory beat in your veins. “Why should anyone think they don’t have a chance with me?”

You know he hasn’t, but with how everything in you stills after asking that question, you wonder if he stopped time.

You’re not sure if it’s the right question to have asked, or the worst.

But it gives him pause, and when the tip of your tongue slips out to wet your lips, his eyes slide down to your mouth. A large hand slides up your spine to rest at the back of your head, your skin erupting with goosebumps at the touch.

Your lips part on the softest sound and it makes something rumble in his chest, quiet but clear with how close he is.

It gives you what you’ve been dreaming of—Victor’s lips falling over yours, soft, with a rushed breath and fervent eyes, something desperate at the edge of it. Everything goes quiet, with only your blood pounding in your ears. It feels as if every inch of you is awake in a tingly sort of way, your thoughts deserting you at the way he looks at you, ready to devour.

There’s hunger in his eyes, and you feel faint when it hits you.

It’s also his answer, you realize, mouth opening to say something, anything, and he pulls you back, kissing you fiercely. Something in you caves, spilling into your blood, setting it alight with a burst of sparking desire.

Victor kisses with his entire body, like he does everything else: controlling every inch of it, sweeping your mind clean, licking into your mouth with the determination that drives his every action, to conquer.

But you’ve been determined to match him since the day you first met him, all too eager to push back and clash. You don’t mind the clack of teeth, the lack of rhythm, and Victor only presses in harder as your arms slide over his shoulders, fingers weaving into his hair. Your tongue is a sly thing that licks along his, your mouth a clever warm weapon that sucks at it, and he unravels.

Hands that were so careful lose their caution as they dig into the sides of your hips, slinking down and hooking around your thighs as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“You’re not stopping me,” he rasps against your lips, almost questioning, pupils blown wide. He looks so good you might just lose your mind, and this is after a kiss.

Taking a page out of his book, you kiss him again.

He carries you around the sofa—with a strength you’ll be sure to admire deeply once you’ve regained the ability to form thoughts—even as he sucks bruises into the delicate skin of your neck, sitting down with you sinking into his lap.

You’re shivering, you realize, at this sudden fulfilment of a desperate, impossible wish. Your knees press into the sides of his thighs as Victor kisses the corners of your mouth, the curve of your upper lip, the plush, swollen jut of your lower lip—and you feel deliriously drunk.

He watches you carefully.

“Oh,” you say, half-slurring, kissed stupid. “That’s why.”

“Hm,” he agrees, nuzzling the side of your face. His eyes are bright, his arms a grounding touch around your back. “No one should think they get to have this.”

“No one but you?” It’s meant to be clever, sharper, but it comes out shy instead. He nips at the shell of your ear, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad about it.

“If you allow it,” he confirms. He presses his lips to the soft skin behind your ear.

Something swells within you, sweet, sudden and threatening to dissolve you into tears. It breaks open, everything you’ve worked so hard to suppress spilling out like hoarded treasure out of a box now too small to hold it.

“I like you.” It comes out in a rush, and you slap your hands over your face. This time, his low chuckle rings clear in your ears. But when your breath hitches on a sob, his grip on you tightens, lips finding your forehead. “I really like you. So much. I have for a while. At the fair, all of it, I wasn’t...wasn’t acting.”

“What, and you thought I was?” He looks a little offended when you take a peek at his face. But the sight of his ruffled hair and kissed-puffy lips sends a hot, thrilled jolt through you, and you have to restrain yourself from pouncing. “I have many skills. Acting, admittedly, is not one of them.”

“I thought maybe it was a hidden passion or something,” you mutter, trying to repress a wet laugh at the withering look he gives you, gentle hands wiping at your eyes. “What, you were great!”

“Nope. That was all real,” he declares, pulling you in to rest against him, your head on his shoulder. You feel a little awkward, but that’s mostly outweighed by how much you want to stay here. “...well, maybe I was a little…”

“Nicer than usual?” you offer, and he huffs into your hair. “Cheesy, like you binge-read several romance novels the night before?”

“Cheesy?” He protests, and you laugh with warmth building and rushing through you. “I thought you liked all that.”

“I do.” This time, the kiss he presses into the crown of your head is firmer.

“Then I’ll do it.” You look up at him, a little enchanted, a little bewildered, but the former wins out as the corners of his mouth curl up. “Every silly thing you want to do. Oh, and I really like you too.” It’s almost a scoff, but the tremor in his voice and the flush that spreads across his skin speaks his truth.

“Really?” you ask, your grin a little mad and ridiculously beatific. It feels unreal, the joy and relief spreading through you; he pecks the tip of your nose.

“Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?” Victor asks, and the solemn sincerity in his voice prompts you to deliver a loud, smacking kiss to his cheek, just because you can. To your unending joy, the lobes of his ears are almost impossibly red.

“Never,” you assure him, peppering more kisses over his skin, fascinating by the sight of him pinkening. A thought strikes you, dampening your rising spirits. “I thought...thought there was someone else.”

He makes a soft, surprised noise in his throat, disbelief winning out over the tenderness for a moment. “Who?”

“I don’t know!” You press your face into the side of his neck, inhaling his comforting scent, hoping it would help with the remnants of hurt. “Some mystery goddess.”

He’s quiet as you nuzzle his rapidly warming skin, feeling the first hints of sheer mortification settle in at the way your voice just cracked. He whispers something.

“Sorry?”

Victor clears his throat. “Just you.” He buries his nose in your hair before you have the chance to lean back like you want to. “It’s only ever been you.”

Not expecting the sincere confession, it feels as if the breath was punched out of you. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He toys with a strand of your hair, curling it absently around a finger. “I didn’t want to overstep. And to make you feel like you had to reciprocate.”

You stay silent, sensing that he has more to say, even though you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and never let go.

“I’ll admit that I feared you would feel pressured to be with me. And that would...I would rather see you happy with someone else, than see you miserable with me.”

“I could never be miserable with you,” you protest at once, feeling almost offended by the mere suggestion.

“I’m not...I know I can be difficult.” The words fall out in a rushed exhale, as if he wants to get them out before they can be swallowed; you feel weak with the force of your emotions. “But I can try for you. I did that day. I wanted you to relax, to have fun, like you do with your friends. I didn’t want you to be so...cautious.”

It’s true, you realize guiltily, that there are times where you can’t completely relax in Victor’s company. Those are the days where your feelings sit a little heavier in your stomach, when his words strike a little sharper. The thought of disappointing him, of doing something not to his taste, of judgment, held you back.

But the day of the fair had been different. He met you halfway, maybe even more than that, and never said a word of complaint. You’d assumed that had been for the camera, though.

“Please,” he says with a roll of his eyes, and you realize you’d said that out loud. “No, that was…” He lowers his gaze, long lashes fanning over the tops of his cheekbones. “That was to show you that you can have fun with me too. I...like you. The way you are. Every bit. The determined, unyielding parts.”

You stare at him.

“The hurting, unsure parts,” he says, a little quieter. “The silly, ridiculously cute parts—don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what,” you ask, your overworked mind trying to process his words, knowing your smile is probably embarrassingly dopey.

He scowls at you. “Just be yourself with me. Dummy is fine.”

“Victor,” you exclaim all of a sudden, startling him. “How am I supposed to stay standing in the face of you saying things like that?”

He rolls his eyes again. “First of all, you’re sitting right now, and I don’t plan to let you move for a while.” Predictably, you feel a little lightheaded at that. “And as for the future...then don’t try to stand, dummy. You can just rest here.” He pulls your head to rest on his shoulder, patting it firmly.

“I’m going to die,” you say with absolute certainty into his shoulder. “I can’t survive this.”

“You have to,” he mutters dryly, tucking you more firmly against him. “Haven’t you seen the discussions? Our ‘love story’ can’t end in your death, too many would be left devastated.”

“Including you?” The look you direct at him is positively vulpine, and he snorts, pushing your head back down. Bully.

The titillated fluttering in your stomach makes you smile.

“...I can’t become a widower before we even get married,” he says solemnly, and you can nearly feel the blood drain from your face as you rear back.

The corners of his mouth twitch with something like mischief, and the smack you deliver to his bicep is perfectly justified.

The undoubtedly chiselled muscle you feel very briefly will also require further rumination once you’re alone.

He’s cracking marriage jokes, no doubt referring to the few comments gushing about a secret wedding. An hour ago, you had been under the impression that he was madly in love with some mystery figure.

Like a bird just freed, your heart flutters at the thought of him having feelings for you.

“Say it again.”

To his credit, he doesn’t do you the disservice of pretending he doesn’t know what you’re asking for. He clears his throat, eyes flicking to the side before finding their way back to yours.

“I like you,” he says, a little lower, a lot deeper. “Dummy.”

You wish you could see what your face was doing, because it makes his eyes go really, really soft. Now that you aren’t weighed down by the frantic need to hide your feelings from one of the most astute people you’ve ever met, you feel like you could float away the way you’ve seen Gavin do, just from how free and happy you feel.

“Just for the record,” you say quietly. “I like you the way you are too.”

“Hm?”

“Even when you’re being a jerk.” He tweaks your ear lightly, rolling his eyes when you giggle. Your heart beats a harsh beat as you try to come up with the right words. “But you’re also the best man I know. When you have it together, and when you don’t—I’ll be there for you. Always.” The way he’s always been there for you.

He kisses the tip of your nose, his pretty eyes a little shinier than before.

“We should aim for a real date first.” He sounds decisive, and a little hoarse.

“...I have a list of places I thought would be good for our first date,” you admit, eyes still locked with his despite your shy admission. He looks pleased, always happy when you take the initiative, and you watch his mouth do that tender thing for a second before leaning in for a swift kiss, catching his lower lip between your teeth as you pull away.

“Good.” His head falls back onto the sofa as your lips trail down his neck curiously, mouthing at the slope of his adam’s apple. Just because you can. “Send it to me.”

“Good,” you murmur, breath hitching in your throat as his hands curl over your waist, skimming the hem of your sweatshirt. “We’re doing this, then.”

“Most definitely.” With how throaty his voice has gotten as you reach his clavicle, a gentle explorer, you’re not sure words will be your allies for much longer.

“Will you be my boyfriend then, Mr. CEO?” you ask playfully, tasting the words in your mouth. Victor makes a soft, content sound in his throat.

“I’m all yours,” he affirms, relishing the words in his mouth, raising his head to look at you through hooded eyes. You both know it, just a little, but saying the words brings a giddy, vulnerable sort of feeling with them. “And you…”

With no need for hope, just certainty, you rise up to kiss him softly.

“I’m yours.”

BTS:

Goldman stares at Jason in horrified disbelief, shocked by the words that had just left the director’s mouth. He glances at his boss, whose only reaction had been to cock a brow.

“Would you be open to replacing Kai?”

“I’m...not really one for such shows,” Victor says, quite delicately in Goldman’s opinion, knowing the man usually has no qualms about being savagely blunt.

“I’m aware. I just thought it would be something different, something that would let people see a different side of you,” Jason explains, still completely at ease.

Victor’s expression makes it quite clear he doesn’t care about people seeing other sides of him.

“Who’s the other participant? Did Hollow come back?” Goldman asks, curious despite himself. In his very personal opinion, which he will definitely be keeping to himself, it might be nice for Victor’s image if people saw he isn’t always heartless.

“Oh, no. She didn’t,” Jason says pleasantly. But the look in his eyes is almost hawklike as he keeps them locked on Victor. “I asked Y/n to do it instead. She agreed.”

Now, to the untrained eye, Victor gives no outward reaction to that statement.

But Goldman sees the way his brow twitches, the way his lips purse the slightest bit. He wonders if Jason, as a director with many years of experience under his belt, caught it too.

“She agreed?” Victor asks, sounding as if he doesn’t quite believe it.

“Yes,” Jason answers, suddenly distracted as he glances at his wristwatch. He sighs, a touch too dramatic to be convincing, but Goldman doesn’t think Victor cares about that. “But I understand. We wouldn’t want you to do something you’re not interested in. I have to go check on her, we’ll keep you updated.”

Something is happening here, Goldman realizes. Jason isn’t rushing out, but seems to be waiting for something.

Victor, staring at the surface of the coffee table, is struggling.

Goldman struggles too. He struggles not to roll his eyes in abject exasperation, to pray for divine patience. Why is he like this? Of course, to step into such an obvious trap surely goes against all the instincts he’s honed over the years, but none of that matters when it comes to the delicate matters of the heart!

Instead, he catches Jason’s eyes, pushing his glasses up his nose, eyes glinting.

“But who else would you ask to step in on such short notice?” Goldman asks, pointedly.

And finally, Goldman holds his breath as the ghost of a smirk passes over Jason’s mouth.

This is it.

“Oh, it shouldn’t be a problem. Y/n said she could call Professor Lucien, having already guessed Victor wouldn’t be, um, up for it. She really knows you well, huh?” Jason informs them cheerfully, and even Goldman isn’t expecting that. He thought Jason would go for the ‘who will help poor y/n’ route.

It’s obvious manipulation, and they all know it. Knowing Victor, he will stubbornly refuse to give in and suffer for it. At least, the way he’s glaring at Jason seems to indicate that.

Goldman rushes through several justifications in his head, forming a rapidly coherent argument as to why he should do it, carefully keeping ‘if you don’t want to see her with someone else, suck it up’ and ‘please, please, watching you sulk is really sad I can’t do it’ off the list.

Surely, Victor wouldn’t let the sexy professor sweep you off your feet? He’s heard the man talk, that kind of smooth talk should not be allowed and holy hell, Jason has played this really well.

“They do get along well, so it should work,” Jason muses, slathering a little more icing on his three-tier cake of clear-cut manipulation, drama, and subterfuge.

“I’ll do it.” It’s said through a tightened jaw, but it rings clear in the silence of the room. Goldman abandons his mental speech, head whipping around to stare at Victor.

“Oh?” Jason sounds genuinely surprised, as if he hadn’t been aiming for this from the start.

“Yes,” comes the answer, leaving no room for argument.

“Are you sure?” Jason asks, oddly somber, finally abandoning the pretense. So he is in possession of some morals, who would have thought?

“Give me the briefing,” Victor says, shoulders set in a firm, determined line Goldman is all too familiar with.

Jason relaxes into his seat, relief clear in his face.

And as Victor turns to him, giving him specific instructions about his outfit, cologne and flowers, determined to do this right with that familiar, besotted spark in his eye, Goldman feels warm pride trickle in.

‘We’re gonna get you the girl, boss.’

Aaaaaaand...CUT.

I know the last behind the scenes thing wasn’t really needed but I had to

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it!

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mr love li zeyan #mlqc li zeyan #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #my writing #tag yourselves im lucien

285 notes · View notes

adhd-wifi · 4 years

Text

MDZS Modern AU Fic Tips (Festivals)

So I asked a while back if anyone was interested in some fic tips for writing Chinese modern AUs, and y’all seemed enthusiastic. But…when I tried putting it all in a single post it got…really…really long…

So I split them into a bunch of posts (Yes I copy-pasted this intro on all of them because I’m lazy)! Here are the links:

Names & Stuff

Modern Chinese Cultural Stuff

Superstitions & Beliefs

Festivals (You are here)

Living in China

Anyways, these are based on my experiences living in Singapore and China, and I hope these posts are helpful. On to it.

Content Warning: Magpie Bashing

Festivals (Warning: LONG. Good Luck.)

Note: I do not have personal experience with all of these. For those I have celebrated, I’ll indicate with a (*). Also I’ll only be talking about how we celebrate them (typically), because diving into the history and meanings of it all would take like 8 years (not literally but you know). Fee free to look them up, and ask your nearest Chinese human for any extra details. If they know it. You might want to look up what the lunar calendar is too. It’s basically the moon cycle calendar, but I am too bad at memorizing how it works so I just google the dates every single year.

Also, I’m restricting this post to ONLY Chinese & Singaporean versions of celebrations. Many other regional ethnic groups celebrate the same or similar festivals, but I don’t know enough about their versions of the festivities. Another thing is that my family is from Dalian & Harbin in the NorthEast, so there is more Northern bias in my post so I might have some info that is inaccurate to festivities in the South. I did try to search for some South-specific traditions, since Yunmeng/Hubei is in South China, but I’m not entirely sure how accurate those details are.

Chinese New Year (*) - Late Jan to Early Feb (15 days after CNY day)

Before CNY, often on the eve of the actual date, we decorate our homes with red (don’t you dare skip out on decking your home with RED) decorations such as lanterns, red and orange flowers, those vertical paper banners with auspicious calligraphy on them (what are they called in English???) and whatever these things are

As kids, my sister and I would make those loop paper chains out of red and yellow paper a lot. We never knew what to do with them when the festivities were over

Spring cleaning is extremely important, we usually do it (extensively) from about a month before the festivities (and get yelled at a lot by our Chinese mothers & grandmothers especially) up to CNY Eve

Please don’t do any cleaning, particularly sweeping or throwing the trash out, on the day itself. You’re throwing the new year luck away.

Other preparations include: buying new clothes, often with at least one red thing, visiting friends during the month prior so you don’t have to do so on the day itself and giving them little gifts and red packets, & burning new year offerings for ancestors

You will probably see lion dances on the streets and during new year parades a lot, sometimes accompanied by dragon dances, though the former is much more common. They also tend to give private performances at a discount during the CNY period, though lion dances aren’t restricted to only perform on CNY and in fact perform for special events in general, not just cultural festivities

On the night of CNY Eve, we have reunion dinners, in which we gather our entire extended family (when possible) and have a really loud, really energetic dinner party while watching the CNY Spring Gala on TV together. Or just eating if we don’t have access to a TV.

Include fish on the menu. At least one major fish main dish, not a side dish. It’s from a lucky saying: 年年有余 - nián nián yǒu yú, meaning something along the lines of “To have more prosperity this year”. The Chinese word for fish (鱼 - yú) sounds the same as 余, therefore we have fish every year. Yes it’s a pun, as many Chinese superstitions and beliefs are

Other menu items you could include: homemade dumplings (a FUCKton of them), uncut noodles, chicken or duck, pork, Chinese radish/carrot cake (side note: why the FUCK do Western articles ALWAYS translate this to “turnip cake” it’s made out of fucking RADISH or CARROT I swear to HELL), Chinese yam cakes, good alcohol and traditional sweets like tang yuan (this is basically the original version of mochi, filled with black or normal sesame filling and served in a clear, sweet soup)

There’s also one Cantonese dish known as (撈起 - Lo Hei) which is basically a salad of shredded carrot, radish, cucumber with strips of sashimi-style fish strips like salmon. You serve it to the table, pour crushed peanuts, fried dough crisps, and sweet sauce all over it, and your entire table reaches in with chopsticks and mixes everything together. It’s more common in Singapore and Malaysia than it actually is in Hong Kong and China, but I’ve had it in China before in the springtime. I fucking hate it.

By the way, a fun game to play is the coin dumpling game. Basically, when you make the dumplings, put clean coins into some of them, and whoever eats the dumpling with the coins inside are considered super lucky for the year. I wasn’t ever allowed to make them though, my 20 years of dumpling-folding have failed me I still suck at it so everyone knows which ones are mine.

Usually, relatives living overseas would go to China for the New Year if they can, and they would take turns hosting the dinner each year. You would traditionally only have a reunion dinner in a family home, mostly because everything outside is closed

During the celebrations, lighting firecrackers and sparklers is part of the fun. Keep a close eye on the kids.

Wearing traditional clothing isn’t necessary, but encouraged

At midnight, the younger, unmarried family members will present their married elders with gifts (usually two oranges per person or a small handmade craft) while wishing them well for the year, and in turn the elders will return the wishes and gift the youngsters red packets with money.

The celebration period lasts for 15 days, but people typically go back to work a day or two after the actual CNY date

Personal note: I have only actually celebrated CNY once in China, back when I was tiny, so most of this is based on Singaporean experiences, what I know my in-China relatives, who live in Dalian, do, and what I’ve double checked online. But CNY is huge in China and many places celebrate it differently, so don’t get too worried about following this to the dot.

The Lantern Festival - Early to Mid Feb

In Singapore it’s actually illegal to celebrate the Lantern Festival traditionally on a large scale because of the potential fire hazards & pollution, so it’s somewhat merged with the Mid-Autumn festival here and thus I don’t know as much about this one in a “proper” Chinese context (I had to go to school in Singapore this time of year)

But anyways

The Lantern Festival comes immediately after CNY, on the 15th day of the first lunar month. It’s seen as a day of freedom for all, so everyone takes to the streets, lighting up the night with candles and lanterns

Lantern-walks are common, in which everyone holds a lantern - there are many kinds to choose from - and just walk up and down the streets together

These lantern-walks often take place alongside the official festival parades

The dragon dances mentioned earlier are more likely to appear during the lantern festival than CNY, and the lion dances of course come as well

It gets crowded a lot. Hold onto your kids.

Lantern riddles are fun games, in which they string up lanterns with papers hanging from them. Upon these papers are the riddles, and if you got them right you could win prizes. Or at least bragging rights amongst your family and friend groups

If you’re in a river town, you’ll likely have a chance to see water lanterns, which are also common during the Mid-Autumn Festival. They’re paper lanterns, sometimes made in lotus form, carrying wishes of prosperity. This can come in two forms, an official river lantern parade where they make HUGE lanterns for show, or smaller lanterns that just flow along. Sounds perfect for a Yunmeng Jiang family celebration, don’t you think?

Another one is the sky lanterns, which CQL watchers will recognize. People will gather together, usually on a hill, and release lanterns into the skies. Some will make them themselves, but most people will just buy pre-made ones. Like in CQL, you make a wish upon these lanterns, then sit down and eat tang yuan together.

They apparently eat a lot of tang yuan on this festival

A lot of romantic meet-ups happen on this festival (and the Mid-Autumn Festival) (y’all know what to do with this information)

This is considered the last chance of family time following on from CNY before you all return to your normal lives

The QingMing Festival (*) - Early Apr

AKA the Tomb-Sweeping Festival

To put it very basically, this is when we go to our deceased loved one’s graves and clean said graves

We go to the cemetery in the early morning, wipe down the gravestones, clear them of debris like leaves and such, then we make offerings of food. A lot of the times, we would basically lay out a feast before the grave(s), lighting incense and also decorating the graves with flowers and such

Please do not ever eat anything in those offerings. It’s not for the living. Therefore, please feel free to stab your chopsticks upright into that bowl of rice.

You can burn offerings like paper too, usually in a burning urn (??? is it an urn?), but in my experience we weren’t allowed to do that at my grandma’s grave since it was a crowded cemetery so I don’t know how it works exactly

In my personal experiences, we usually stayed in the cemetery for about an hour, praying to the deceased and sort of chatting with them, hoping they’re doing well in the afterlife and updating them on our lives

After that’s done, we go have a picnic somewhere down the mountain and fly kites while getting bullied by asshole magpies

They keep stealing my food because apparently even they know you shouldn’t eat the food left out for the dead

One stole my necklace once ;-;

Anyways the food offerings left out are typically cleared the next morning (latest) by us or you pay the cemetery caretakers to dispose of it, but the latter is looked down upon for good reason

It’s really just best to clean it up yourselves when you can. For everyone’s sake.

The Dragon Boat Festival (*) - Late Jun to Early Jul

You could probably make a sports anime about this festival, because the main even at the Dragon Boat Festival is the dragon boat racing (shocking)

Okay all joking aside, during this festival, which is a summer event, dragon boat racers compete with one another in long, narrow wooden canoes with a Chinese dragon head carved out in the front and painted scales on the side, often really brightly coloured

They row to the beat of loud drums, with a drummer sitting at the head of each boat, facing their boat’s rowers, beating the drum as their team rows

People watching the races can do so from the shore, where they’ll be eating glutinous rice with meat/nuts/beans wrapped in large, woven bamboo leaves into a triangle shape, called 粽子 - zòng zi. (The Malaysians & Indonesians have this too, but they use banana leaves instead)

In some places, you have viewers in viewing boats too, with the race course marked off with buoys. I fell into the water once from one of these. Luckily they make you all wear life-vests.

Also a limited occurrence but rarer, some places will have sort of official “cheerleading” boats, in which a bunch of colourfully dressed people will shout and cheer for the racers as a whole, often waving flags the same colours as their clothes. They’re often standing, but in the same kind of dragon boats. You have to be affiliated with the local dragon boat community / heritage board to be allowed to be one of these “cheerleaders” though

When the official races aren’t happening though, visitors are often taken around the river. You can technically do this at any time, but the Chinese believe that the time of the Dragon Boat Festival is the best time for traversing the great rivers

Other things people do during this festival include drinking realgar wine, making perfume packets for children, and hanging mosquito-repellent herbs on doors and windows, but I’ve never seen this in practice and couldn’t find much else on these

To be honest, this particular festival is seen as a thing of lingering cultural heritage or just something of a traditional ceremonial practice, but is overall kinda dying as a full-fledged festival, with only the racing surviving the passage of time (In fact, this has become more of a leisure event than a festival in Singapore in recent years)

The QiXi Festival - Mid to Late Aug???

Not gonna lie I didn’t know this one existed until I looked it up

I knew the legend surrounding it (The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl - Please look it up it’s a beautiful story even though it’s not realistic because the magpies aren’t assholes) but didn’t know it was an actual holiday at all

Basically it’s kind of the Chinese version of Valentine’s Day, but it takes place in like August

Traditionally, girls took this time to show off their skills in the “feminine arts” such as weaving, sewing, fruit carving (???), tea-making (?????) and poetry (?????????). I’m confused.

They also ate special pastries and children gave flower garlands to the sacred ox statues

Apparently it’s mostly only celebrated in more traditional/rural areas now because most modern Chinese people just celebrate the Western Valentine’s Day

The legend gets to stay though

The Hungry Ghost Festival (*) - Late Jul to Early Aug (Start) / Late Aug to Early Sept (End)

This one is not a festive festival at all. You shouldn’t be enjoying this festival as a living person. But this is probably the best festival for any fics set in the modern world revolving around dead spirits being active out of everything on this list

This festival lasts the entire 7th month of the lunar calendar, so the Chinese will literally just call it the “Seventh Month (七月 - qī yuè)” or the “Ghost Month (鬼月 - guǐ yuè)”

I’ve never even heard anyone refer to it by its full name in Chinese, which is apparently 中元节 - zhōng yuán jié or 盂兰盆节 - yú lán pén jié according to Wikipedia

Basically, the Gates of Hell the Afterlife have opened for the month to get the spirits of the deceased ease their suffering for a bit. So, the festival is actually NOT celebrated by the living, instead, it’s “celebrated” by the ghosts of the deceased

Living human practices during this festival include making various food offerings (the main point of the festival) for the spirits, usually much more seriously and/or extravagantly than typical offerings, burning offerings such as paper money, paper houses, paper cars, etc in large quantities because this is the best time for the spirits to receive them, putting on special “performances for the dead” in which performers will dance and sing to a room of empty chairs, and having special family prayer sessions in which we “speak” to the deceased directly (Luckily, they don’t usually answer us)

Nowadays, only the first two of those practices are really still practiced as seriously as they used to be, for individual families at least

Again, if you see food being left out on the side of the street, especially if there’s incense or something next to it, please don’t eat it or even touch it. Don’t be the ignorant guy in a horror movie

People who can see/hear/sense spirits and environmentalists hate this festival, because ghosts can be terrifying even when harmless, and all the burning contributes to climate change

I happen to be both of those. I am also sensitive to smoke. So...

Ironically I don’t actually hate this festival THAT much but...

Personal note: I’ve never been to China during the seventh month, and because they make it a point to not really talk about it, I only know the Singaporean experiences. Telling ghost stories is both encouraged and shunned during this month here. Malaysian-Chinese ghost stories are fucking horrifying. Give me more.

Mid-Autumn Festival (*) - Late Sept to Early Oct

My personal favourite festival on this list. I don’t like crowded places, but I make exceptions for this one when I can. I would call this the most fun and enjoyable festival out of all of them.

When speaking Chinese, most of the time we’d just shorten it to 秋节 - qiū jié from the full name of 中秋节 - zhōng qiū jié

When speaking English (in Singapore, but you can use these in English fics and people tend to understand it fine), we also call it the Mooncake Festival, the Autumn Moon Festival, or the Harvest Moon Festival (this one is quite an old name though)

In modern times, this is celebrated very similarly to the famous Natsu Matsuri (Summer Festival) in Japan, in which a huge festival site is fully decorated in colourful lanterns and filled with countless stalls of food, games, and festival products such as more lanterns, traditional dress rentals if you’re lucky, wooden toys, cloth products, “festival” tea & wine, and many more

You are encouraged to wear cheongsam/qipao to the festivities, but honestly most people don’t anymore, but they dress their kids in cultural clothing a lot (in Singapore you’ll also see kiddies running around in other traditional dress, such as yukata, summer hanbok, festive baju kurung, etc.)

In some places, special dragon or lion dances will be performing

Expect to find a FUCKTON of fresh fruit stalls, including pumpkins, melons, pomelos, persimmons, pomegranates, maybe starfruits, dragonfruits & guavas, and probably a heck lot of longans if you’re somewhere in South China. Also expect every individual large fruit to be decorated with red ribbons and colourful wrapping paper

Also out of every five stalls, at least one will be a mooncake stall

Mooncakes come in multiple varieties! The most common are the white lotus bean paste ones, the ones with salted egg yolks (single yolk and double yolk), snowskin ones which as much softer and sweeter, red bean paste cakes, etc.

They make some super cute shapes too!

There are even more savoury options with minced pork filling or prawn/fish filling (not a fan of the fish ones), but they’re made with a flakier pastry than the sweet ones (Note: sometimes we don’t call these mooncakes, but it depends)

Basically the sweet ones use a pastry that’s more like a typical sweet tart shell while the savoury ones use something that’s more like a non-sweetened croissant

Traditionally, people would make the mooncakes together at home, and offer them to the moon goddess during moon worship, but nowadays most people just buy them and eat them

This festival also shares a lot of the same customs as CNY & the Lantern Festival, such as:

Having another reunion dinner. Duck is a very common dish, along with seasonal crops. Lotus dishes are also popular around this time, depending on where you are.

Lanterns everywhere. Water and sky lanterns are also common. You’ll also see people playing with firecrackers and sparklers.

In much more rural areas, you might get to experience the Burning Pagoda tradition, in which they set up a seven-tier tower made up of wood and straw and burn it while dancing around it. This practice is similar to the Bon Odori even in Japan.

Fun fact: This is also basically the Lantern Festival of Singapore, because the actual Lantern Festival isn’t celebrated here

Bonus: I made a post about the most famous myth of this festival that relates to MDZS.

The ChongYang Festival - Mid to Late Oct

Also known as the Double Ninth Festival (in English) and the Senior Festival (slang)

This is basically the festival of paying respects to our elders, both living and dead

There are...going to be a fuckton of chrysanthemums everywhere. Chrysanthemum flowers decorating the place, chrysanthemum cakes (I don’t recommend googling it if you have severe trypophobia, some of the more traditional cakes have a lot of seeds and stuff on top which may be upsetting, but I would say it’s at least better than a hollow lotus pod), chrysanthemum wine, all of that

Common activities include going on easy hikes or mountain walks with the living elders, and maybe visiting the graves of those who have passed and paying respects

It’s dying in modern times, but still seen as at least a day of relaxing with your elderly family and friends

The DongZhi Festival - Late Dec (just before Christmas mostly)

The Winter Solstice Festival

Nothing much is done, we really mostly just have a special dinner together, eating dumplings, noodle soup, mutton, and hotpot. Alcohol is often present at such dinners, and you would toast to the solstice

You’d also pray and stuff like most of these festivals, but I think that’s a given by now lol

Modern Chinese people will often get together during this time and merge it with their Christmas dinners

Aside from that, we really just celebrate Christmas, though now you can add a line of cultural significance to those modern AU Christmas fics :3

Bonus Info: There is also a Summer Solstice festival called the Xia Zhi Festival that’s essentially the same as this, except you eat a lot of noodles and go swimming, but it’s not really significant anymore in modern times, the DongZhi festival only really surviving because of Christmas, so I didn’t include it in the list

Alright, that one took like 84 years. I’m tired LMAO.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #cql #chen qing ling #the untamed #chinese things #chinese fic tips #fic tips #modern au #my posts

47 notes · View notes