#I mean... not perfectly. not yet. but it's closer than with Yuri

[piracytheorist]

Yor worrying that her disappearing because of her job would mean she betrayed the Forgers vs Yor realizing that the risk is worth protecting them.

Grey colours, the Forgers as she first met them having their backs at her with empty, disappointed faces, vs bright, warm colours, the Forgers as she now knows them facing her directly and smiling at her.

She starts the story feeling like an outcast, fearing that no-one, not even her brother, will accept her as she is. That people will turn their back on her, and her life will continue being colourless and lonely.

Then her life fills with colour, with people who will face her head-on and accept her. She develops into confidence that the Forgers care for her and is reminded that even if she ever has to leave because of her job, the knowledge that she protects innocent people...

and that this work of hers will be acknowledged...

... is enough to give her the strength to carry on.

[lakesbian]

“Fair. Here… Let me pick the clothes, and if anything goes wrong, you blame me, deal?” She dug through the clothes in my closet, “Jeans and… let’s see… a crop top to show off that belly of yours.”

see, shit like this entire scene is why briantaylor lisataylor and racheltaylor are all real to me simultaneously. it's literally classic weird codependent yuri that taylor's Girlbestie (who she met a week or two ago tops):

goes around ruffling her hair

calls her hyper-familiar pet names

casually and without permission snoops through her texts to the boy she has a crush on

invites herself into taylor's room while she's nakey to change

makes invasive yet fully accurate declarative statements about taylor's emotions

inserts herself into things by micromanaging taylor's outfit selection and saying "blame me if anything goes wrong"

and, of course, is doing all this shit while lying to taylor to obscure from her that 1. she is trying to manipulate-fix her into having better mental health so she doesn't kill herself and 2. has been hiding from everyone that their boss has coercively enslaved her and she can do nothing but decide that this is her life now and, if she wears the mask perfectly enough, she'll be able to keep everyone living the comforting lie she keeps telling the team. that's all well and unhinged of her and one reason among many lisataylor is real and true, although not in the simple "they're dating" sense.

the thing is that if all that were true and then taylor did just go to brian's house this arc and confess and he was like Teehee...I like you too :) and then they started dating normalstyle, that would be fucking nothing. we would have to throw brian out a window forever in favor of the shit taylor has going on with rachel and lisa. BUT. here's the critical part. taylor's relationship with brian is also weird and dysfunctional and mutually neurotic.

he rejects her at first because his ability to understand his own emotions and also not view women through a deeply paternalistic misogynist lens is so low he at first mistakes romantic attraction as meaning he wants this girl he just met to "be like a little sister to him someday." like, he psychologically does not know how to have women in his life who are in categories other than "coworkers i bicker with" or "little sister i love and want to care for (which i express dysfunctionally because i am 17 and traumatized)," and because taylor is closer to someone he cares deeply about than to a coworker he bickers with, he tries to sort her into the second category instead of acknowledging that she's a secret third thing (girl he wants to be friends with and date).

and taylor is so socially inadequate she's about to kiss him at random without consent and then tell him to go with it As A Favor so she can piss off one of her bullies who happens to be on the same bus as them. Taylor you can't just do that to people. and a bit past that she's going to refuse to mercy kill him after he gets hung on the meat freezer cross. no one here knows how to have a normal teenage relationship. they're all weird and dysfunctional and codependent. Even the straight couple. Could've been milquetoast but dodged it by a mile via everyone involved being fucking weird and bad at understanding themselves. it's fantastic. youve gotta hand it to wildbow re briantaylor. only thing that can improve it is deciding to read it as if racheltaylor and lisataylor are also true.

[ankhlesbian]

toxic yuri: shin kamen rider edition

Fandom: Shin Kamen Rider

Pairing: Ruriko/Hiromi ofc

Rating/Length: T for violence, ~1.5k words

AO3 Link: here

My gift for the toku femslash exchange ^_^

Ruriko and Hongo have a plan for taking down Hachi-Aug.

It means Ruriko will have to confront Hiromi, on her own this time.

Ruriko is always prepared.

The elevator doors opened.

The roof was nothing like the foyer the two had last met in. It was dimly lit. There was no perfectly spaced, sophisticated furniture. No rows of expensive swords. No wasps of pure gold adorning the walls. 

Perhaps the roof was more honest to who the woman on the platform was.

“Thank you, Ruri-Ruri.” The woman purred. “I do appreciate the invitation.”

She began her descent.

“Feel like returning to the Organization?”

Ruriko matched her movements, moving towards the center of the roof.

“No. I feel like a fight.”

“Oh dear.” The other woman chuckled. “That’s a shame.”

 She stopped at the bottom of the platform, not moving any closer to Ruriko.

“Up here on the roof, your bodyguard can’t pop in on his bike to save you.”

Six of the woman’s drones were arranged around her, forming a V to encompass Ruriko. The man in yellow stood behind them all.

“Doesn't it scare you? Going solo?”

“Of course I’m scared. But I’m always fully prepared. You should know, I believe in the man called Kamen Rider.”

For a brief moment, the woman’s face twisted into something ugly. Then the honey-sweet veneer was back.

“You can’t believe in people. In the end, they will betray you. That’s why we need people like me to keep them in line.” The woman gestured with one gloved hand, sweeping it over her entourage of drones.

Ruriko was silent.

The woman smiled.

“Of course, I’m sure you know that well. You are a traitor, after all.”

“I didn’t come here to talk.”

The woman cocked her head.

“Of course.” She straightened and smoothed out her kimono. “I apologize for my rudeness.”

She summoned the man in yellow to her side. Handed off her haori. 

“I would be quite the poor host if I left you wanting.”

The man in yellow knelt, holding out a sleek katana. The woman freed one arm and drew it from its sheath. The man in yellow returned to his place. The drones stepped back. A straight line, a wall, behind her, standing perfectly still.

“You aren’t like me, Ruriko. Not anymore.” Hachi-Aug said. “I’m better than you. You can’t win.”

Ruriko’s hand slid into her coat.

“I’m going to make you cry. Make you beg for your life. And after that, I’ll take your toy and make you beg for his, too.”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Hachi-Aug spun, the thin blade of her katana arcing around her in a perfect crescent as she leant backwards. It glinted as it caught the light of the moon above them. Six halves of three bullets clinked to the ground around her.

“Oh dear. You should know, guns don’t work on me.”

“They don’t need to work.”

Ruriko drew another pistol. She held one in each hand.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

The shots were swift yet careful, mindful of the civilians behind Hiromi. If any of the bullets hit their mark, they had no effect.

Hachi-Aug lunged forward. The first swing was diagonal, seamlessly cutting through the barrels of both of Ruriko’s guns. Ruriko dropped the guns the instant before the katana touched them, stumbling backwards with the wind that Hiromi’s unnaturally fast movement brought in its wake.

The second swing was aiming for Ruriko’s neck.

Hachi-Aug’s vision was blanketed in brown. She didn’t falter, carrying out the intended swing. It sliced through Ruriko’s coat, torn off and thrown into the air as a distraction. It fell to the ground gracelessly, crumpling onto itself in an ugly little pile.

Cold metal pressed against Hachi-Aug’s neck, recognizable even through the layers of fabric. A third gun.

Hachi-Aug’s katana slipped from her fingers. It fell, uncontrolled, clattering against the concrete.

“It’s over, Hiromi.”

“It’s barely begun.”

Hachi-Aug moved with speed unmatchable by a mere computational organism. Her right elbow slammed into Ruriko’s fingers with a crack, knocking the gun away. Her left foot slammed into Ruriko’s stomach, sending her flying. She slammed into the wall beside the elevator. Ruriko was left in only a black turtleneck and tight, black pants. She had more ammunition. She did not have more guns.

“That coat was disgusting. Brown isn’t your color, Ruri-Ruri. Yellow would suit you much better.”

She didn’t bother retrieving her sword. She advanced, predatory. She knelt in front of Ruriko’s battered form.

“We’re even now, “ she cooed. “Both of us without weapons.”

She grabbed Ruriko’s hair and yanked , pulling her face close. Blood dripped down Ruriko’s forehead.

“Have you had enough? This rebellion of yours is vulgar.” Her lips were so red and so falsely kind as she smiled.

“A world where people can’t make their own choices is just as vulgar.”

“You would think that, Ruri-Ruri. You just want to see people running around crazy, their emotions bare for all to see. Since you don’t have any of your own.”

The Habitat Realm, where one could tell no lies.

Hachi-Aug punched her. Blood spattered onto her glove. She didn’t let go of Ruriko's hair. Her head snapped, chunks of hair torn loose by the whiplash.

Ruriko licked the blood from her lips. Her eyes were dark.

Without warning she threw herself forward, forehead cracking into Hiromi’s, the weight of her body careening them backwards.

Hachi-Aug’s grip carried Ruriko down with her. Her other hand was pinned beneath her back. Ruriko snatched at her wrist with broken fingers, grip unerring. She pinned her hand above her head, knees tightening around Hiromi’s hips to keep her still. Hiromi’s pigtails were splayed around her on the concrete, the black strands frizzy and damp with sweat.

“That’s not what I want. You don’t know what I want.”

“Of course I don’t!” Hiromi spat. She was breathing heavily. “You won’t tell me. Wouldn’t tell me. You didn’t even tell me you were leaving.”

She managed to get one leg free, tearing at the seams of her kimono. She flipped them, pressing Ruriko into the ground.

“You would have stopped me.”

“You could have asked me to come with you.”

Her hands went for Ruriko’s neck.

“I just did.” She wheezed.

“You didn’t ask then .”

“You would have said no.”

Ruriko’s elbows and knees were relentless as she writhed beneath her. It was enough to bruise her in this form.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know.” Ruriko’s eyes met hers. Her face was smeared with blood and grime, but her expression was nonchalant. As if she wasn’t moments away from being choked to death.

Hiromi had no retort to that, because Ruriko was right.

“You still could have asked.” She knew her voice was wobbly now. “Then maybe I would have known you cared.”

She tightened her grip. Ruriko’s attempts at escape weakened.

“If you had stayed they could have helped you. Enhanced you, too. You wouldn’t be so weak right now.”

“I am not weak. I wanted to find my own answers. To find the meaning of real happiness. That is not weak.” Her voice was barely a whisper now. Her face was still blank, pale now, white as a ghost.

“I’m going to kill you. You’re going to die.” Hiromi said it like it was a command, leaning in so close she could feel Ruriko’s shallow breath on her face, tickling her lips. “How about some tears? You still have time to beg.”

Hiromi squeezed, squeezed so tight it felt like her fingers would break skin, would touch Ruriko’s blood and flesh and bones in a tantalizing intimate way. Ruriko would bend to her will.

“I won’t die.” Ruriko’s voice was so faint. “Not here. Not yet.”

“Your bodyguard isn’t going to save you. Nobody except me is going to save you.” Her pigtails dangled, framed Ruriko’s face, the strands against her cheek moving as Hiromi spoke, a facsimile of a caress. “You just have to ask. Tell me you want to serve me. To obey me. Tell me you won’t leave me alone again. Tell me, Ruri-Ruri! ”

There was no answer. Ruriko was still. The world slowed down, froze for a staggering moment. A moment where Ruriko was gone, truly gone, and Hiromi was truly alone.

Hiromi tore herself away from Ruriko like she was on fire, like the very feel of her scorched through her layers of clothing and her inhuman skin and right to her soul. She was panting, eyes darting around wildly. She was glad her drones could only see her back.

The world unfroze.

Ruriko took in a long, rattling breath. Her eyes found Hiromi’s as she pulled herself to her feet, one halting movement at a time, until she was braced against the wall, barely standing.

“I won’t die here.” She said, “Because you won’t kill me.”

And then there was an explosion, and her drones were gone, and that Kamen Rider that Ruriko had chosen to believe in was between them.

“Surrender. For Ruriko-san’s sake, too.’” He said.

The woman sneered.

“That angle is going to backfire. I just want to make Ruriko cry.”

[aubins]

“Dearest Yuri...to think I would find you here.” If only the moniker was spoken sweeter from mirth curled lips, if only Arval was capable of lavishing affection curdled sickly in gentler tongues to a mockingbird who sings shrill more than soft.

In moons passed words shared had been more tentative, when friend was a tease on mockingbird’s lips and an offering lighter from Yuri's own indulgence was passed in a brief encounter in the stables.

Moons later, paper crumples as baked goods near identical in scent are pressed into mockingbird’s talons with a haste that betrayed the unbothered flicker of endless reds. A spur of the moment decision, catching lavender tresses in the crowd, a scent sweet and familiar from a stall steps away, an exchange conducted in a flurry of nimble hands almost quick enough to pretend their mind lags behind.

“Remind me to never seek you out if I require aid in fending off gargoyles.” Sharp tongued, keen eyed, and the routine they keep between them. “Not bearing any long lasting injuries from that one, are you?”

It is the lingering slither of respect Yuri had garnered from that exchange in the ruins of a city doomed to fall that prevents Arval from simply pressing corpse cold fingers to the skin of their wrist to check themselves.

Mere seconds can be passed between them before a name hollers through the crowd, neither Arval nor Yuri yet the syllables ring a chime of recognition in ghost's ear as they withdraw in light steps to the call, throwing one last glance all mirth and pointedly ignoring the treats near abandoned into hands, a parting message rushed from curled lips.

“If you have found yourself in a sorry state, I'll be weaving through the crowd for a little longer. You just seem the type to get fussy if their feathers remain ruffled for too long.”

“Darling Arval...” A half turn, a sharpened smile. The saccharine sweetness is followed by a tilt of his head, an innocent flutter of lashes. “...where else would you propose I be found, pray tell?”

Gaze flicks briefly to the treats pressed into his hands, earning a raised brow if little else as fingers curl around it proper to stop from dropping it entirely. They are as befuddling to him as ever in these little moments of concern and care, because they see no reason for him to be owed such an offering when it is he indebted to them.

Yuri says nothing of it, of course, merely retracts his hands closer to his chest. Sharp words and teases are their most natural language— and he doubts Arval would appreciate a discussion brought to what they intended as a wordless exchange. (He would not appreciate it much, either. Would rather not acknowledge whatever the treats in his hands are supposed to mean, if anything at all.)

This is, in the end, what is most familiar. What is most safe. What does not risk crossing that line between them.

“I got out of there perfectly fine, you know,” comes the mockingbird's own sharp tongue, a glint of a challenge sparking in his eye. “Didn't even touch me. If anything, you ought to come looking for me if you're trying to run away from them. I'm quite practiced at it by now.” A dramatic sigh and a shake of his head to punctuate. “But fine, see if I still come to help if you need it. Maybe we can still throw you back into the ruins and see how you do.”

And then Arval is withdrawing in a rush, and Yuri lets them go for a beat. Where their gaze avoids the treats in hand, his drops back down to them.

Then, he catches them by the wrist after a few, long strides in the direction they try to disappear to, brow raised. Yuri laughs. “Where do you think you're going? You'll have to try harder that to ruffle any feathers at all.” The treats are held out to them here, an offering made with a sly grin. “Try this: share these with me and then eat the last one before I can. That'll really ruffle my feathers.”

[snowywrites]

Doki Doki Literature Club Girls x Reader

summary: you spend the day at the amusement park with the rest of the Literature Club! (it's recommended to read these together in order because they are connected, but if you prefer then you can read just whichever one you want to. Reader is intended to be female.)

full word count: 7.7k

Sayori

It was a gorgeous Saturday morning in town. The sun was shining high overhead in the pale blue sky, but the fluffy white clouds drifting by here and there were enough to ensure that it wasn't too hot. There also happened to be a nice, soothing breeze out, you note to yourself as you gaze out your open window to the neighborhood. A perfectly lovely day.

Well. That was enough of that, you muse to yourself as you slide your window closed again and pull the curtains in front of it to avoid any of the cheery sunshine washing into your room- it created an awful glare off of your computer screen which made it hard to watch your anime.

Content with your decision to stay inside today and catch up on your favorite shows, you walk over to sit down at your desk and turn on your computer. That's as far as you get before the doorbell rings, however.

You ignore it for now, assuming someone else in the house will go answer it. Then you suppress a groan of frustration when you recall that you're home alone for the better part of the day, a big reason why you had set the date aside to stay indoors and enjoy some peace, quiet, relaxation, and anime.

The doorbell rings again and again, much more insistent now; it almost could be playing a song of some kind. "I'm coming!" You call as if the visitor can hear you, grudgingly hopping up and hurrying downstairs. The doorbell just keeps ringing, and you don't even check the peephole to see who it is before you open up because the sound is really starting to grate on your nerves and you just need it to stop as soon as possible.

Your neighbor and somewhat-best-friend Sayori is standing there, and she looks a little shocked to see you, despite this being your house. She slowly presses the doorbell one last time, and you resist the urge to sigh heavily.

"Hi, Sayori. What's up?" You question. It's been a minute since you two have visited outside of the Literature Club, so you're making an effort not to act as annoyed as you feel for being so rudely disrupted. She could have at least texted a message saying she was going to be dropping by- then again, this was Sayori. Odds were, she had been walking by heading to the store or something and spotted your home, causing her to make the impulsive decision to bug you.

Her eyes brighten and a wide smile replaces her startled expression. "Hey, Y/N! It's Saturday!"

You stare at her for a moment. "Uhm...yeah, it is." You aren't entirely sure what she's expecting from you- maybe an invitation to come inside? Sayori's sort of a pain to watch movies or shows with, though. She's such a chatterbox and can't really focus on one thing for long at all, so whenever she does tune back in, she's got a million dumb questions that she'd know the answer to if only she'd bothered to pay attention. Nonetheless, you offer, "Did you wanna hang out? I was about to watch some anime, and you can join me, if you'd like."

Your words don't seem to come as any shock to Sayori, and she shakes her head firmly. "Y/N! I figured you were shutting yourself up in here. It's seriously a nice day, let's get out and have some fun!"

So much for compromising! And you'd even been trying to be nice, sheesh. "But I-" You frowned, trying to come up with an excuse for why you couldn't go out today, eventually settling on the truth since it was easiest. "I was just looking forward to some downtime, maybe next time though, okay?"

Instantly Sayori is pouting, acting like the exact same little kid you first met years ago rather than the almost-adult she was. "We've had this talk before, I don't want you becoming a total NEET! You can watch your shows tomorrow, but we really should enjoy this day, I bet it's gonna rain tomorrow! I mean, the rain is fun too, but-"

You're visibly defeated. "Okay, okay, lemme just grab some money. What'd you have in mind?"

Instead of calming down now that she's gotten her way, Sayori gives an excited little bounce, clapping her hands together. "Thanks, Y/N!" She grins at you, radiating warmth and energy. "I was thinking the amusement park!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The amusement park was in town for another few days, and you had yet to go to it, but you doubted you were missing out on much. It was crowded with people, as expected, and you recognized a lot of other people from your school even in their casual clothes. It made you absently wonder if any of the other girls in the Literature Club were here today...

"Hey, did you hear me?"

Sayori's voice shakes you out of your thoughts, and you look over at her. "Oh, sorry. What'd you say?"

She doesn't seem upset in the slightest. "I said, we have to go on the roller coaster!" She points excitedly across the park where you can see the top of the coaster. A lot of screams and a long line are in that direction, and you do your best not to look nervous.

"R-Roller coaster? Isn't there anything else you want to do first?" Trust Sayori to immediately pick the biggest attraction in the place. You're a tad surprised she isn't already hungry, to be honest, though you two did just enter the park.

"Coaster first!" Insists your best friend, taking your hand and beginning to drag you off towards the ride in spite of your clear hesitance. "And then probably food! I'd hate to get sick, you know?"

You can't help but smile. It was likely the most responsible thing you'd ever heard Sayori say, and one which you were grateful for considering you two would obviously be sitting next to each other. It helps you to relax a little bit too, but as you join the line with her, you can feel your anxiety starting to mount yet again the closer and closer you get.

Sayori is chattering away, but you're trying to block her out because she's babbling about all sorts of things. You wonder suddenly if she's trying to distract you...but quickly brush that assumption away. It would be nice, but Sayori just tended to talk a lot all the time, this wasn't new.

After what feels like much too short of a time, it's your turn to ride the roller coaster. Fear grips you, much as you don't want to admit it. You shoot a panicked glance at Sayori, who was humming cheerfully to herself. She meets your gaze, and her hum falters, tapering off. She gives you a reassuring and oddly quiet smile, taking your hand. It's different than before, when she'd been pulling you through the park. This time, her grip is steady but not demanding, allowing you to pull away if you wanted to do so. It's also possibly the only time you can recall ever seeing your best friend look so...shy.

It's more comforting than anything she could've said, and you give her hand a squeeze to thank her. The two of you enter the roller coaster in seats next to each other, and a worker comes along to help the two of you strap in properly. Your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest, and you're assuming it's just because of the roller coaster adrenaline, nothing more.

The ride starts and you close your eyes shut tight, keeping a death grip on Sayori now; you can hear her breathless and excited laughter even through the sounds of the other riders screaming and whooping. Many twists and turns, sometimes slow and sometimes fast yet always nerve-wracking, and a particularly terrifying drop-off later, and the ride is over.

You blink open your eyes, stunned to realize you're still in once piece, and leap out of the coaster as soon as possible, tearing your hand out of Sayori's. She doesn't seem all that worried about it, fortunately. She climbs out onto the solid and safe ground next to you, and you bite back a giggle. Her hair is so crazy and windswept and sticking out in all directions from the ride, but then you figure yours probably is too, and self-consciously try to pat it down.

Unlike you, Sayori doesn't appear concerned with her appearance, her cheeks flushed with delight and invigoration, not embarrassment. "That was so much fun!" She cheers, spinning around you as if she still had too much energy to contain. Then she paused, practically glowing as she looked at you and you only had a heartbeat to notice that she was very close in your personal space. "Thank you so much for coming with me, Y/N."

It was such a genuine and vulnerable statement that you were briefly at a loss for words, trying to read the uncharacteristically intense emotions shining in your friend's blue eyes. "I- it was, sure, it was a lot of fun, Sayori..." You trail off awkwardly, stepping back a pace to escape the close proximity.

Sayori opens her mouth to say something else, but a gasp comes out first as her attention fixes on something behind you. "Can you buy me some pizza? Pleeeeaaaaseeeee? Pretty please?! I'm really hungry now!"

The moment is over with that, and you wince at her childish request. "Pizza sounds good," you relent, causing Sayori to squeal with excitement and rush off to the food stand. You're giving in a lot today, and you aren't sure why, honestly. It wasn't like this was more fun than staying home and watching your favorite shows, right? Although, you did enjoy Sayori's company. There was a reason she was your kind-of-best-friend after all.

Oh, well. You can think about it later. For now you might as well try to have a nice time while you were still here. You follow after your puppy-like friend, spotting her at one of the tables just outside of the food stand talking with someone sitting there. With a start, you recognize the violet long hair of your fellow clubmate, Yuri.

Approaching, you start to greet them, but Sayori interrupts you before you can. "Yeah, Y/N/'s here too!" She pointed at you brightly, and Yuri tenses up, looking up at you like a deer in the headlights, which confuses you. Yuri had seemed perfectly calm before now- sure, a little shy, but now she was the stuttering and nervous girl that you were most familiar with from the Literature Club.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Yuri

You smile, giving a tiny wave. "Hey there, Yuri." Of all the people you might have expected to see here at the amusement park, Yuri was perhaps at the bottom of the list. You would have assumed she would be like you on a Saturday, preferring to stay at home. Except she would be reading novels or writing most likely, not watching anime or reading manga.

You're partly right, because on the table in front of Yuri is an open book instead of anything to eat. How she was able to focus with all the conversation of groups of people swarming around, you had no idea.

"Y/N," whined Sayori after Yuri just gave you a slight nod of greeting, "My pizzaaaaa, please?"

You laugh, waving her away. "I'm going, I'm going, hush! Yuri, did you want anything?" You offered politely.

Your clubmate seems to shrink in on herself, allowing her long dark hair to fall so that it hid her face from your view a bit. "Ah-! Uhm, that's okay, thank you, though." Sometimes you weren't sure how she could write just long and beautifully-worded poems when she seemed to struggle so much with the simplest of phrases spoken outloud.

You accept this and go to buy yourself and Sayori a slice of pizza each, and end up buying Yuri a sweet tea too just because, well, you would feel weird and rude to eat in front of someone else if they didn't have anything. You make your way back over to the table where Sayori is talking to Yuri, her arms flailing around in wild gestures, and you get the suspicion that she's telling Yuri all about the roller coaster ride. Quick to intervene, you set the tray with the food and drinks down on the table, leaning towards Sayori threateningly. "What exactly are you talking about?" You inquire sharply, eyes narrowed.

Sheepishly, Sayori swipes one of the plates with pizza on it to take a bite and shrug, using the food as an excuse not to reply.

Huffing, you distribute the stuff you bought between the three of you, turning to Yuri to protect your reputation. "For the record, I was totally not scared," you promised her.

Yuri is slightly more comfortable now, you think, and there's a tiny glimmer of faint amusement and sympathy in her violet eyes. "I believe you," she murmurs back, so quietly that you almost were unable to catch that. She blinks at the drink that you placed in front of her, apparently having to take a second to process what it meant. And then, completely the opposite of Sayori, her head snapped towards you and her gaze was now wide. "Oh-! You- thank you, Y/N, but- you really, didn't have to, go through the trouble...!"

You tuck into your meal, taking your time in replying while Sayori scarfs down her own food, curiously glancing between you and Yuri as if studying the interaction. "It's no worries," you say after a short while. "I would've felt bad otherwise since me and Sayori have something." You turn your attention to the forgotten book in front of Yuri. "Sorry if we bothered you, by the way! We didn't mean to interrupt your reading or anything."

Sayori bobbed her head in an enthusiastic agreement since her mouth was full and she couldn't say anything.

Once again, you worried that you'd said the wrong thing because Yuri's reaction was much the same as the last time you'd said anything. "That's- that's okay, really! It wasn't, important, and I was..." She seems to give up, seeming helpless and frustrated with herself, only able to take a sip of her drink in defeat.

Sayori finished with her food, standing up abruptly. "Thanks, Y/N!" She chirps, apparently not effected by your and Yuri's awkwardness. "I'm gonna go check out some other stuff, so you should have fun with Yuri!"

Her words catch you off guard, and before you can react or suggest the three of you find something to do together, Sayori is already racing off somewhere, waving over her shoulder at the two of you. You watch as she slams into someone as she wasn't paying any attention to where she was going, and shake your head as she profusely apologizes to them. "Oh, Sayori," you sigh a little dramatically to Yuri. "What are we gonna do with her?"

The other girl bites her lip like she's trying to hold back a laugh. "It's nice that you look after her," she speaks up quietly.

"Ah- I mean, somebody has to, right?" You chuckle to yourself as you resume eating.

Yuri is fine with silence, which doesn't really surprise you. She opens her book back up and starts to read after a minute or two, and you're content too to just finish up your pizza and do some people-watching.

Eventually when you do finish, you throw away your trash and then rejoin Yuri, who's politely closing her book again and standing up as well. She's calmer now, as if reading and not having to engage in conversation for a little bit has recharged her, which you're happy for. "Uhm..." She begins timidly. "Would you like to walk around the park with me?"

You aren't used to Yuri initiating anything at all, and in the space of your bewilderment, she hurriedly continues, "It's okay if you'd rather not-! I only thought..it might be fun, but I understand if..." The last part is more of a mumble.

"Sure, Yuri, I'd love to!" You try to reassure her as smoothly and swiftly as you can in order to avoid hurting her feelings any further or even risking her fleeing. Yuri was such a sweet person, and you'd never want to say no to her and have to see her awfully sad expression, you reflect. "We can head...that way." You pick a random direction and start walking, Yuri following you meekly. She walks near you, but also just a step or two behind, and when you try to slow down so you guys can actually walk together, she stops altogether. Deciding you can't do anything about it for now, you continue the trek, absently looking around at the various stands, games, and rides as you pass them. "I wasn't expecting to run into you here, to be honest," you comment.

Yuri's silent for a beat, causing you to wonder if she was even going to say anything back to that. She finally does, thankfully. "Admittedly, this isn't the sort of place I might usually spend a weekend at." Her words are low and carefully-chosen as usual, like she's cursed to overthink even the barest minimum of small talk. "But my parents insisted I come here."

An amused smile quirks up your lips as you glance back at her. "So you brought a book instead of arguing with them?" You deduct. "Clever. I would've brought a manga or something, but Sayori was impatient to get here. She's always trying to drag me out my house and make me socialize. Take the Literature Club, for example."

Yuri gives you a tiny nod. "It's kind of them to care about us," she says. "I do sometimes wish they could understand me better, though."

"I get that," you agree. "Even if they're a pain sometimes, you love them anyway."

Yuri evidently agrees, but something causes her to stop walking. You pause too, going back to join her. Her attention is on an attraction nearby, a 'haunted house' sort of place. She doesn't look like she had any idea it was here, and you recognize interest and anticipation on her face, which makes you happy- you might be getting a little bit better at reading Yuri, the more time you spend with her.

She reluctantly focuses back on you, and you sense she's about to apologize and continue walking, so you speak before she gets the chance. "We can go check it out, if you want?"

Your clubmate lights up for a moment before wincing. "We don't have to, if you wouldn't like it," is her answer. It's honestly not annoying, mainly because Yuri makes indecisiveness, shyness, and doormat-ness look really, really cute.

"It might be fun," you laugh, guiding her across to the entrance. It looks pretty stereotypical, and you recall going to one of these kinds of places with Sayori one year for Halloween when you were much, much younger, probably like 11 or 12. The line isn't long at all, which is also a bonus. When you two are given the all clear to go inside, you and Yuri enter the narrow, dark hallway.

You're suddenly quite aware of how close Yuri is as you walk- instead of trailing behind, she's right at your side now, pressed up against you since there's not a ton of room in this corridor. She doesn't seem to notice, too enraptured (ha, maybe you were hanging around her too much) by the thrill of what scares might await them to pay you much mind.

Talk about making a girl feel self-conscious. Despite being around the same age, Yuri was so much more...mature than you, to put it politely. It was nice in a way too- you felt safer than if you were by yourself, at the very least, since she was taller than you and so close to you.

The haunted house wasn't too scary, like you had assumed. The actors were great though, and at some point one of them lunged out towards you from a secret passageway and it startled you so badly that you ended up leaping backwards and pressing back against Yuri, your eyes wide and your heart hammering so loudly you bet the violet-haired girl had no trouble hearing it.

You stared tensely at the 'monster', needing a moment to collect yourself and remember how to breathe again. It's Yuri that manages to bring you out of it, which is so sweet of her since you all but crashed into the poor girl. She wraps her arms around you in a very gently hug, resting her chin on your hair. Where did all that confidence come from, anyway? It may have been the really dim lighting, you think to yourself- you can hardly see each other, so that could've given Yuri some boldness. Either that or she was finally getting comfortable around you!

The actor slowly recedes away, and you stay perfectly still for a minute longer than necessary. Finally, you clear your throat, awkwardly disentangling yourself from Yuri, who hops away from you quickly too, and even in the near-pitch black you could swear that she's blushing like crazy as she tries to stammer out an apology.

You shake your head, smiling nervously even though she can't see it. "T-Thanks, Yuri."

Okay, so maybe you had lied a little bit about it being 'not too scary.'

That was the last of the real scares, and you gladly spring out into the sunlight of day again, stretching your arms over your head. You look back to see Yuri hovering back in the darkness of the haunted house- was she okay? You ask your thought outloud.

"Y-Yes! I'm sorry. I'm coming..." She grudgingly steps out to join you in the real world, and you realize with a sense of deep sadness that she's not meeting your gaze anymore again. Great, just when you finally thought you were starting to make some progress on being friends with her. "That was a nice time, thank you very much, Y/N-" Those next words are blurted out and spoken so fast you're shocked she doesn't stutter over them. And the next thing you know, she's gone, disappearing into the crowds and leaving you alone and more than a little disappointed and confused.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Natsuki

You sigh to yourself as you wander around the amusement park, scanning around to see if anything piques your interest. You were also sort of hoping to see Sayori, considering she was responsible for dragging you here and now she'd ditched you, but you also wouldn't mind bumping into Yuri again to hang out. Something told you that Yuri had been pushed to her social interaction limit for the day though.

A loud, squeaky, angry, and oh-so-familiar voice causes you to head towards it and check out what's happening. As you thought, it's Natsuki, another of the girls in the Literature Club. She's standing at one of the game stands with her hands on her hips and leaning towards the guy running the game in an aggressive stance. You note that the game is one of those ones where you have to throw some darts at a balloon, and if you can pop one, you can get a prize. The prizes line the wall behind the man (more like disinterested teenage boy, but close enough), and they all are varying degrees of fluffy and cute stuffed animals. You never were a fan of amusement park games because they were more often than not rigged more than a claw machine.

You get a little closer so that you can hear better.

"...completely unfair! I hit that balloon, you and I both saw it!" Hisses Natsuki at the worker. It was too easy to compare her to a puffed up and angry kitten, you muse to yourself.

The boy shrugs. "Look, kid, if the balloon doesn't pop, then you don't get a prize. That's like, our only rule."

Fury flashes across Natsuki's face, and you resist the urge to laugh. Natsuki did look pretty young, but she was around your age, and probably this guy's age too. "Don't call me 'kid'!" She exclaims. "I won, fair and square! Just because it didn't-"

The argument was starting to draw in other bystanders, not just yourself. And you realize with a flicker of fear that you can see the worker reach for his walkie-talkie like he's going to call in security. Security on Natsuki, for god's sake. Ridiculous.

To prevent her from possibly being forcibly removed from the amusement park, you hurry over and place some money down on the game stand stable. "Can I try?" You interject. Even though you're not looking at Natsuki, you can feel her flinch away from you and sense her hostility and surprise at this new turn of events.

The boy running the stand regards you boredly, but you're relieved to see him put the walkie-talkie down. "Sure. That'll get you three tries."

Beside you, Natsuki scoffs. "As if you can hit one of them!" She grumbles. "It's not as easy as it looks." By how frustrated she was acting, you could guess that she'd been here the better part of the day attempting to win. But which prize did she have her eye on?

"Maybe not, but I can give it a shot," you say lightly. "Which one are we after?" You question her.

Natsuki glares at you fiercely, and you can see she's got a blush that matches her hair. Grudgingly, she points towards one of the bigger stuffed animals, a white bunny rabbit near the very top. "It's- it's not for me!" She informs you at once. "I wanted it for- for a friend. That's all."

'She's a terrible liar.' Nodding, you turn your attention to the man and tell him, "If I win, we get the bunny. Deal?"

"Means you've gotta shoot the purple balloon."

Of course, the purple balloon is at the very top of the wall of balloons. Fantastic. You don't have too much hope that you'll actually be able to pop it, especially when you see the kinds of darts he hands over to you. First of all, the tips are so blunt and dull that you can 100% believe that Natsuki did hit the balloon with one, but it wasn't nearly sharp enough to even hurt someone if they tested it against their skin. Second, the weight of it felt wildly uneven in the palm of your hand. The shape of the dart just wasn't sufficient enough to propel it through the air like it should have. This was precisely why you never would waste your time or money on this...but you couldn't exactly back out now, not with Natsuki's intense magenta eyes watching you like a hawk. If you didn't at least make an attempt, you'd never hear the end of it at the Literature Club, and it might cause you to lose what little respect Natsuki had for you. Which never seemed like a lot to begin with.

"C'mon, we've got a line now," sighed the worker, unimpressed with your examination of his faulty darts. It wasn't his fault they sucked, anyway. You were so focused on aiming your first dart that you didn't see the angry glance Natsuki cast at the boy.

You pulled back your arm and flung the dart at the balloon. It was pretty pitiful, you couldn't deny that. It sailed off away from the wall of balloons and landed outside of the game stand on the grass somehow.

Natsuki huffed a sigh, her arms crossed. But when the worker snorted and tried to hide his laughter, the little pinkette sprang closer like an affronted pomeranian. "It's not her fault these darts are total crap!" She snapped. You would never have expected in a million years for Natsuki of all people to jump to your defense and try to protect your honor.

She catches your wide-eyed gaze and then looks off to the side irritably. "Keep- keep your eyes to yourself," she growled under her breath.

You fortunately have the sense not to tease her about it. You have a better feel for how the darts travel through the air now, so you pick up the second one and aim again before sending it sailing. This time, it manages to hit the purple balloon target, but it simply bounces off the surface of it and clatters to the ground.

Natsuki opens her mouth to potentially blow up on the man, but you press a finger to your lips in a silent plea to ask her to be quiet. Now you have to take the brunt of her righteous fury in only a single expression, but she doesn't say a word.

One chance left.

You pick up your final dart, judging the distance from here to the balloon and considering the best angle to throw it. After a bit, you finally shoot your shot- and the resounding pop! catches you and all the bystanders by surprise.

What remains of the purple balloon flutters uselessly in the breeze. The worker still cares nothing for this, just goes to pluck the stuffed rabbit toy down from the prize wall.

You turn to beam at Natsuki, pleased with yourself. You've managed to surprise her, you can tell, and when you're handed your prize, you offer it out to Natsuki with a bright smile. "That was fun, huh?"

She stares at the bunny rabbit, still trying to process what had just happened. Slowly, as if she believed it's soft, fake fur was poisoned or something, she reached out to take it into her arms. Her face is growing more and more red by the second, and she buries it into the plush doll as if to hide herself or maybe try to regain her composure. Probably both.

The worker clears his throat loudly, indicating the two of you are still holding up the line, so you and Natsuki swiftly step to the side and start walking through the park. You're a little concerned she might trip over something or into someone since she's still hiding her face in the rabbit's fur and can't see where she's going, so you stick close to her in case she needs a hand to steady her. So much for 'letting her fall next time.'

When you can't handle the awkward silence any longer, you say, "Er, Natsuki...? Are you-"

She straightens up, cuddling the rabbit close to her. "It's fine!" She squeaks. "I- I mean- that was-" She's truly struggling here, and it makes you feel guilty. "You did okay," she manages to at last get out.

A twinge of unexpected hurt flashes through you. You'd privately been hoping that she would be impressed and grateful, but you guessed you shouldn't have ever thought those words might even be in Natsuki's vocabulary. "Oh..." You didn't mean for it to come out so forlorn, but you couldn't help it. "Yeah, thanks." You turn away from her, fighting back your disappointment. "I guess I'll see you at the club after school Monday, then-"

As you take the first step away, however, you feel Natsuki's hand dart out to grab your arm and force you to stop. "Wait!" Her voice is high-pitched with some frantic emotion you can't place a name to. "W-Wait, Y/N- I only meant that-" She huffs, stomping her shoe on the ground in obvious exasperation that you could only hope wasn't directed at you. "I-" God, it's a train wreck not just for her, but for you to witness too. "Thank you-!" The words have to be practically dragged out of her, so she tries again. "...Thank you."

You wait in confusion to see if there's anything else she's going to add, but when she doesn't, you tentatively reply, "Uhm...no problem-? I mean, you're always bringing cupcakes and stuff to share with everyone, so I just was hoping maybe I could try to return the favor and get you something." You pause. "I mean, get you something that you wanted to give to your friend." Best to try and fix any potential mistakes that could get you yelled at again.

Those words had some kind of effect on Natsuki, that was for sure, but you had no idea if it was a good kind or a bad kind. She's gazing up at you silently, seemingly frozen in place. Something snaps her back to reality, for she at last releases your arm, hugging the rabbit again like it could support her. "I guess...you can be really sweet sometimes instead of just a pain in the ass," she mumbles. You're about ready to be offended until Natsuki slowly holds out her bunny towards you, refusing to look at you. You're extremely befuddled and not sure what to expect when the soft nose of the plush bunny rabbit is touched gently against your cheek in a gesture that's very much like a feather-light kiss. "S-Stupid."

You feel like you're too paralyzed to respond in any kind of way, and besides, Natsuki's already brushing past you and stalking off, not giving you a moment to react anyway. You stand there for what feels like a long time after she's gone until it feels like you might have just imagined what happened there at the end.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Monika

Your day at the amusement park was drawing to a close, and suffice to say, you were thoroughly exhausted by everything that had happened. You stop to rest at one of the benches that was sort of away from the throngs of people who were starting to leave the park to head home, so at least the crowds were thinning out. Sayori had insisted you guys come here today, since it was Saturday and all, but she'd ditched you what feels like forever ago, and then you'd run into all the other members of the Literature Club- well, almost all of the other members, that is.

You let your mind drift as you sat there, leaning back into the wooden white bench and staring up at the sky. The yellow light was starting to fade as the sun slowly began it's descent into the horizon line. The amusement park would be closing in maybe an hour or so, you think to yourself as you let your eyes drift shut. You should really go and try to find Sayori so you can walk home together with her...not that the streets weren't safe in the evening, but it was entirely possible your friend could get lost or distracted and end up wandering around town for hours when she should be home. But you were honestly worn out from hours of walking around and socializing...

Right when you've finally gotten comfortable enough that you think you're dozing off out of reality and into a well-deserved, dreamy nap, there's a voice from right beside you that scares you enough to make you jump and snap your eyes wide open.

"Hi, Y/N! Fancy meeting you here."

Aaand, now you'd come across all of your Literature Club members- sitting on the bench beside you with her hands folded neatly in her lap was Monika. You've never seen her in anything besides her school uniform before, but the casual white and mint-green floral spring dress matched both her signature white bow and her eyes nicely at the same time. You hadn't even heard her walk up or sit down, which was kind of odd, but not odd enough for you to really think anything of it.

"Ah- hi, Monika," you greet with a small smile, trying to relax and not look as out-of-sorts as you felt. You run a hand through your hair, exhaling quietly in what was almost a sigh. "Yeah, I wasn't planning on leaving the house today, to be honest," you say in faint amusement. "Sayori sort of dragged me here to hang out."

Monika tilts her head to one side with a pleasant smile in return to you. "I see." She glances around as if she's expecting to see Sayori racing towards the two of you and calling loudly, her arms up in the air to get both of your attentions. But you and Monika are mostly alone. "So you spent the day with her?" The question is casual, and you don't think much of it at all.

"Uhm, not the whole day. We spent a little time together before she ran off somewhere...I bumped into Yuri and Natsuki today too, actually. Oh, but I was sort of thinking I should go try and find Sayori so we could head home."

Monika's emerald green gaze flicks away from you as a breeze ruffles her hair and yours. She doesn't respond for a moment, but you see that her friendly smile has faded somewhat now- and she looks...it's hard to say. Monika looks- gosh, you wish you were half as smart and descriptive as Yuri sometimes- wistful? Was that the word? Contemplatively wistful? She speaks again and it rouses you out of your daze. "So you were just about to leave." The Literature Club president flashes you an apologetic glance before rising gracefully up from the bench. "I didn't mean to bother; I can see you're tired, Y/N. I should get going too."

She doesn't seem sad, not necessarily, but you get the sense that something is a little off. Maybe it's the time of day affecting her mood? It's that weird hour where the day is technically over, but not quite yet- and there's a regretful longing permeating the atmosphere, the only way you could describe it might be like the feeling a high school kid gets on a Sunday evening, in spite of the fact today was Saturday, meaning the weekend wasn't over yet.

You move to stand up as well, a little clumsier than Monika. "But- there's still a little while before the park closes. If there was anything you still wanted to do here, I could come with you, if that sounds alright? Unless you were really going to leave, that is. I'm not so tired that I'd miss hanging out with you- outside of school, I mean."

There's the slightest hint of hesitation, and you're unable to decipher Monika's feelings right now. If you were to guess, you might say she's conflicted. Just as you're positive she's going to politely decline, her warm smile returns. "That would be nice," she says, and you realize you've been holding your breath.

"Okay, cool!" You brighten up and begin to walk through the amusement park with Monika.

She has her hands clasped behind her back and she's looking around to admire the scenery around you both while you do your best not to stare like a weirdo at her. "So, uhm...were you wanting to go on a ride or...?" You ask after a little while of silence.

Monika hums, but you don't think she's actually considering your suggestion. "I wouldn't ask you to wear yourself out anymore. When I first saw you on the bench, I thought you might have been taking a nap." While her tone of voice is casual, you can't shake the sense that there's an undercurrent of something else in those words. Almost like she's accusing others of making you tired or something. You're probably just imagining it.

Briefly, you wonder why she joined you if she thought you were asleep.

As if reading your thoughts, your club president continues, "Sorry if I disturbed you, Y/N." She slows the pace while you assure her that it was okay and she had done no such thing, stopping eventually to gaze upwards.

You follow suit to see the Ferris wheel towering above your heads. "I haven't been up there today," you comment thoughtfully. "Is it a pretty view?"

Monika dips her head slightly in assent. "I think so, yeah. Coming?" She leads you over to the man who is seating people in each of the carts, and he warns that this is the last go-around. "We understand, thank you," Monika says to him, and while she's just as charming, you think you know her well enough now to tell that this is her feigned politeness, like her guard is up.

He grunts and allows the two of you in one of the carts, shutting the glass door behind you.

You actually aren't scared at all. Well, you guess you are a little apprehensive at being in this small space alone with Monika, but you tell yourself you're being ridiculous. She's your friend, isn't she? So there's not a thing in the world to be nervous about...

The cart starts to go up into the air, and you stay standing while Monika takes a seat. Your hands press against the glass as the two of you climb higher and higher. The city is there, with all it's buildings and roads, but beyond it is... you can't really see what's beyond the city, and this confuses you. Shouldn't there be...something? Instead of just, blurry darkness? You blink several times and then brush at your eyes with the back of one hand like your sight is trying to deceive you. But when you look again, you still see only the murky black of nothingness beyond your city.

Monika's voice so near to you gives you a start- you'd been so dumbfounded by the missing scenery that you hadn't heard her stand up and come closer to you. Instead of watching the outside world, you sense her eyes are fixed intently on you. "What do you think?"

It's almost a relief to tear your gaze away from the glass. Her expression is rather closed off but serious, and sort of searching yours. You wish, not for the first time, that Monika was less of a mystery to you.

How to respond? "It's- strange," you manage to say.

The brunette leans impossibly closer to you, alight with surprise and near-disbelief as she presses, "What do you mean strange, Y/N?"

Feeling awkward and pressured, you find yourself taking a step backwards from Monika to get some space between you two. 'She'll think I'm crazy if I say it looks like we're floating in the middle of nowhere-outer-space in the middle of like a black hole or something.' "J-Just that-" You can see something akin to desperation written on her now, like she's trying to silently plead with you to answer her question sincerely. You fumble on the words, unused to this sort of intensity. "Just that...the town- it looks- different from up here..." Each word is stiff and awkward, you're really an awful liar, maybe even as bad as Natsuki.

Fervid disappointment seems to shake Monika's entire being, and she pulls back away from you, looking outside of the Ferris wheel cart again and far off into the distance. She's starting to become composed again and when the cart makes it last lap around and comes to a slow halt at the bottom, she turns back to face you and she's her usual self again: friendly, sweet, and bright. "I understand. Thank you, Y/N." The door to the cart opens and Monika moves to step out, offering you her hand to help you out.

Your breathing feels a little labored, and it isn't until later that you realize you'd actually been afraid. Not of Monika, more of the fact that you'd never once seen her behave anything like that before. It left such an impression on you that you were positive you hadn't imagined it. You do end up accepting her hand though, and you wonder if she can feel it's slight tremble.

One thing you weren't sure if you had imagined was the weird end of the world thing surrounding your city. Maybe there was something wrong with you. But you couldn't really think about that now.

"I told you it was a pretty view," giggled Monika. "You seem surprised. Didn't believe me?" She teased gently.

"Oh-! Oh, no, it isn't that! Like I said, it just was, er... different than I expected, is all," you murmur, glancing away- Monika's still holding your hand, but you don't have the heart to pull it out of her grasp.

You don't end up having to make that choice, since she jumps away from you at the yell of your friend Sayori. You see her bounding over to the two of you, just barely managing to hit the brakes and skid to a halt before colliding with you. She does however manage to shower you with dust and pebbles, to which you just press a hand to your forehead to quell a headache.

"Y/N! There you are! I was looking all over the place for you!" Sayori exclaims. She then waves at Monika, as bubbly as ever even though she should've, theoretically, gotten rid of some of that excess energy at the amusement park today. "Hey, Monika! Thanks for looking after her," she laughed.

Monika nods, much to your indignation. "My pleasure, Sayori. I'd better head off, then. I'll see you both after school for the club Monday!" She walked away, waving her farewell for a moment.

You didn't realize you were watching her go until Sayori's hand flailed in front of your face to get your attention. "Hey, we are going home together, aren't we?" She insists. "Otherwise I wasted soooo much time trying to hunt you down, Y/N!"

"Right, right, sorry. Of course we're walking back together- I was looking for you too."

Sayori pouts a little. "Did you think I'd be on the Ferris wheel?"

You grin. "Did you just use sarcasm, Sayori?"

She shakes her head quickly to deny it. "No, never! But am I wrong?"

"Okay, so maybe I did agree to spend some time with Monika," you confess with a shrug, allowing Sayori to pull you away towards the amusement park exit.

Sayori frowns, an unusual look for her. But it isn't a sad frown- it's a concentrated one. She was studying you with determination. "Did something happen? You seem a little out of it!" Amused, she pokes your cheek. "Fess up, Y/N! Do you have a crush on our club president? You have to tell me if you do! We're best friends!"

Sheesh, as if Sayori could ever keep a secret. But she was completely off base with that guess. "No," you answer her calmly. "I guess I...had some kind of epiphany."

".....what's an epiphany?"

'Ohmygod.'

[ubemango]

7, 29, 56 tts! couple pls 👉🏼👈🏼

7.  “That’s it, that’s a new kink I never knew I had.” + 29.  “I’m going to die if you don’t let me cum.” + 56.  “You better muffle yourself with a pillow then, because I’m not stopping.”

+ pre-marriage tts. literally. warnings: (an attempt at) orgasm control, squirting

Yoongi blurs the line between cruelty and mercy with every hard drive of his fingers in your pussy. He only uses two because he knows you’ll come too quick with three. You race right into thick heat, feel it spiral to the final surge—

—and then he stops.

“Oh fuck you,” you cry, “Yoongi no—”

He grinds the heel of his palm where you pulse heat to tease that slow build again. “Yoongi yes,” he mocks. He’s not sorry at all.

“I’ll—I’ll be so angry with you and I’ll tell everyone we called the wedding off because you’re being so mean to me.”

“You can do better than that.”

He’s not playing fair. It’s been an hour of one long dizzy spell, fucking you to steep levels of an orgasm but denying you the pleasure eight times already. Begging has never been off the table but it pisses you off knowing he’ll enjoy it even more now that you’re desperate enough to resort to it.

“I’m—I’ll die—I’m going to die if you don’t let me come.”

He curls the tips of his fingers as an evil reminder. “Now you’re being dramatic.”

“You see what it’s like to almost-come eight times!”

“But it’s so hot,” he coos. He’s not wrong. There’s a you-shaped print of sweat on these sheets. “Watching you squirm like that. You think you’ll squirt?”

Your cheeks burn high. “Do you want me to?”

“Only if you’ll scream.”

Oh you’d scream alright. Bark any command till he finally lets up, drills your pussy till you blank into white. You’ve both got a long day ahead. One that starts in approximately seven hours but Yoongi likes to drag things out at the most inopportune times. “Yoongi I’m tired and we’re literally getting married tomorrow so you’re not even supposed to be here much less finger-blasting me to no end!”

“I know you’re tired. Is this getting your mind off things?”

"I wanna come!” You bellow.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he confirms. He bends over to bloom kisses on your pelvis, little apologies. “Just trust me, okay?”

You resign with limp defeat. He’s got you in his hands—literally—and he knows you’re reaching levels of frustration even an orgasm won’t fix. So he starts up again: the gentle pump of his fingers in your slick, molding your walls with all the heat of his loving.

Your eyes roll back. It’s your favourite part. The barely-there sensations, craving the intense satisfaction but he won’t give it to you just yet. Yoongi drags it out, doesn’t go for your clit but for the tiny moans you’ll grant him if he curls inside just right.

“Love feeling you like this.”

“Hm?” Yoongi grazes soft lips along your stomach, kisses your heaving chest. He prods deeper with a stroke when he circles your tit with a slow tongue. Your hand curls an automatic grip on his hair. “Oh god…”

“So… good. Letting me do this to you. Makes me feel important.”

“I-I’m glad,” you laugh. Trust Yoongi to confess that having his hands coated with wet pussy is a good confidence builder. If anything, you’re just happy to provide.

He comes up for a kiss. He’s easy with it because he doesn’t want you getting carried away. You’ve always had a thing for your tongue on his. “You’ll look so beautiful tomorrow,” he whispers.

“Oh don’t get sappy on me now.”

Not when he’s got your legs open to blatant exposure and he’s still got all his sleepwear on. His words don’t work to turn you on but to ease the anxiety you’ve got churning in your stomach. All your exhausted efforts coming to matrimonial fruition tomorrow, and Yoongi was nothing if attentive to your need for recourse after the busy rehearsal dinner today.

Yuri would kill him if she knew he snuck out his room across the hall just to fuck you. Bridal superstitions and all. But you’re too far gone to chide him for breaking rules because you’re the one being taken care of right now.

He picks up to steadier movements, dragging that sticky sound louder till you’re blushing. He still won’t touch your clit. Probably deciding if he wants to give in and finally let you come, so you moan just for the preview. A little incentive to promise him you’ll make it worth the ache of his wrist come morning. “Fuck—please—go faster.”

“You wanna come?”

“Yes!”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

But he doesn’t tease another quick stop. He heeds your earlier request, lets himself indulge in harsher fucking, scissoring those fingers, curving till your nerves are set on fire. You’re tempted to close your thighs from how hard he’s going but Yoongi distracts you with a pink tongue behind your teeth, swallowing your heavy exhales like he wants to consume you whole.

“Oh fuck yes. Just like that, mm—!”

He challenges your desperate stare, watches you dwindle into whines because you’re already so close again. “You gonna come for me?”

“Please,” you mewl. “Don’t stop ple-ease—”

“What if I do? You gonna beg me like a good girl? Gonna kick and scream till I give you what you want?”

“Yoongi—Yoongi!“

Your panting eases into half-sobbing. You’d accuse him of being a sadist but you love the chase just as much, succumbing to the ache of submission. Creaming his knuckles wet, feeling that throb build to an unbearable fever.

Then he stops. Again.

You shiver. “Yoon—!“

“Sh.” You’re positive his fingers have pruned up, coated diligently in your essence. He won’t lick it yet because he knows you like the stringy feeling.

“Yoongi I need—“

“Promise I won’t make you wait now. Just breathe for me.”

“Y-You better,” you sniffle. You don’t want to admit defeat, don’t want to give him the satisfaction of driving you to tears from one more stolen orgasm. When he said he wanted to take your mind off things you didn’t think he’d mean to replace every single thought with mind-numbing desire. It’s bordering on painful at this point—heart, soul, pussy.

He sates your crumbling sanity with a soft kiss. “I love you. Really.”

“Love you too. Even though you’re being horrible.”

Yoongi takes it as a nice compliment. Opposite to the nasty rubbing he starts teasing your hole with, almost like it’s a gift. “Think you’ll squirt for me?”

“Mm… We’ll see.” You grind into his palm.

“I really wanna see you squirt.”

“Then you better make me fucking come or I’m making sure I’m two hours late to the cere—h-ah!”

Yoongi promises no pretence of evil when he dives right for the spot that curls you at the spine. He claims it, claims you—shoves those knuckles deep till the heel of his palm rubs perfectly on your clit. You grab at his hair. Grip tense, body tenser.

He leans down, mouthing love on your neck. “Feel it coming?”

“God yes,” you squeal. “Fuck that’s so good, baby.”

“Yeah? You like it when I fuck your tight pussy like this?”

“Mhm—!” You hug Yoongi to your chest as if you were slipping, slipping, slipping—finally coming, head first into rapture, unravelling with a loud shriek. “Oh fuck yeah, yeah, ngh—!”

Yoongi takes all those near-highs and pulls taut at the heat where he thrusts. And he gets what he wants, too: drawing out thick splashes till it wets his wrist, the bed; watching you shake with every intense pulse. You’ll tip double to the housekeepers changing the sheets later.

“Holy fucking shit,” you breathe. You think you’re still coming. Yoongi strokes with lighter touches, gets you twitching into the feeling.  

“That’s it,” he whispers, kissing you softly into the comedown. “That’s a new kink I never knew I had.”

“Wha-what? What is?”

“Pre-marital fingerbangs.”

You flick at his forehead, bask in the sight of his dewy face in the dimmed lights. “Now your fingers are all wrinkly. Pussified fingers.”

“Ah.” He brings his hand up to marvel at his handiwork. Flexing at the soaked middle and ring fingers, and suddenly you’re reminded of the fact that you’ll slide a ring on him tomorrow. “I like it. Almost like they’re battle scars.”

“I leave no one unscathed.”

“How dare you wound me,” Yoongi jokes. He doesn’t expect you to grip his wrist next, bringing him closer till your tongue tastes the remnants of his hard work. His gaze zeroes in on your puckered lips stretched along his knuckles. “You...”

“Taste good.” You pop your mouth. “But I bet you taste even better.”

He laughs abashedly. “I think I’m blushing.”

“C’mon big boy, roll on over for me.”

He does. He’s very obvious with the way he stares at your tits when you crawl over him.

“Now I could be mean and do the same thing to you.” You drag his sweats down, stare at the bulge between his thighs. “Or… I could be meaner, and do the opposite.”

Your hands are cold on his skin when you pull at his briefs. “What?”

“I’m gonna make you come. A lot.”

It doesn’t sound like a threat. But you make it dangerous when you keep your eyes on him, bending over to lick at the tip of his dick. Yoongi stutters a gasp.

“Mm. Y-You gonna make me scream for it?”

“Would you do it if I asked?”

You watch him struggle. To submit, to enjoy the way you suck on him. Probably realizing neither of you will get good sleep tonight for the sake of drawn-out highs.

“Maybe,” he decides.

“Good.” You slobber through one mouthful of cock till his hands seek refuge in the sheets. “You better muffle yourself with a pillow then, ‘cause I’m not stopping.”

[kotosnoozy]

「witness me, old man」

chp 1 - recollections of dinners in eden

1st in a series of yuraven oneshots for my favourite aus, both canon to the tales series and of my own creation. ao3 link in the replies.

1. tales of asteria | recollections of eden 2. modern/coffee shop au 3. tales of the rays | 'it's new years! brave vesperia' event 4. schwann brigade yuri au 5. zestiria setting au 6. modern/band au. ao3 link in the replies.

Claw truly is a fantastic cook.

It’s rare, in honesty, that he gets a chance to taste his food. It’s an offer rarely made - only on those seldom occasions where he comes to seek Raven’s information-gathering expertise, and even then only when he deems his work to have gone above and beyond his expectations. He’s a harsh critic, for a man who clearly knows he wouldn’t personally be able to do the job, though the quality of his food is certainly worth the extra effort Raven has to put in to pass the grade.

He has to chase Norma away from the office on nights like these. At times, that feels harder than the information gathering he has to do to get to this point - she’s stubborn as a mule, and has a good nose for his lies. She doesn’t know about his… side-job, so to speak, and he has no intention of telling her any time soon if he can help it. She’d only nag for a free meal herself anyway, and there’s something special about these evenings he gets to spend with Claw, just the two of them. The addition of a spunky teenager would kill the vibe - even if the teenager in question is technically mature enough to be his business partner.

The only consistent method he’s found is to send her off to the next town over on some errand he swears that only she can handle, that he couldn’t possibly join her and get in the way of her work. Of course, it’s tricky to convince her that there’s anything she could do that he couldn’t - the bulk of their work is, after all, odd jobs and chores for the elderly, but if he bitches and whines enough (“Oh Norma , you know how my back gets, ancient as I am!”) then she’ll finally give in and head off with little fuss.

He gets to put the ol’ bad back excuse to good work when Claw arrives too - he couldn’t possibly help out in the kitchen, he’s so old and slow that he’ll only get in the way, or else mess up the recipe.

Claw, unsurprisingly, is far more skeptical of his tall tales than Norma. But for whatever reason, he’s never once complained at Raven sitting on his lazy ass and watching instead of helping. If anything, he almost seems a little happy about it.

After he does his little dance around the kitchen - finely dicing onions with nary a tear, pulverising potatoes efficiently, mixing it all together with a meat Raven’s tastebuds can never quite place, and frying the little balls of the concoction after coating them in breadcrumbs - there’s a plate of perfectly crisp croquettes placed in the middle of the table. It feels almost criminal to allow them to sit in the same spot that they usually just throw cheap takeout and sloppily-made sandwiches, mouth-wateringly good as they look.

“I really don’t know how ya do it, Cap’n.” he says, polishing off his first and skewering a second with his fork. “Makin’ something as tasty as this with just a couple of ingredients… Y’ ever think ya might be in the wrong line of work?”

Claw snorts in amusement, simply resting his head in his hand with a roll of his eyes.

It’s always like this. He’ll cook enough for both of them (or maybe three, or even four people - Raven can’t deny that he’s a real glutton when it comes to Claw’s cooking), but never eats himself. He simply watches Raven from over his collar, expression indecipherable from just his eyes alone. If it wasn’t something of a routine by now, then he’s sure he’d find the constant dark-eyed gaze unnerving, to say the least.

Instead he just feels guilty - it feels unfair to be the only one eating.

“...why is it that ya never eat yerself while yer here?” he asks tentatively. He really can’t imagine such a high ranking member of Her Highness’s guard suffering from eating-related stage fright, but it certainly wouldn’t be the strangest thing he’s ever heard of.

Claw quirks an eyebrow.

“You know as well as I do that Her Excellency forbids my face to be seen.”

Ah.

How did he let that slip his mind?

“That must be a hell of a pain when you’re on the road with your platoon, huh.” he quips instead to cover his lapse in memory.

There’s a slight change to Claw’s breathing that he doubts he’d notice if he wasn’t so good at his job - the tiniest of sighs. He remains otherwise silent.

G r o o o o w l

...Although the same cannot be said for his stomach, it seems, as it heartily voices its protests. Raven simply cannot stop the wide grin that rises to his face.

Claw’s eyes narrow, no doubt already anticipating what will come next.

“C’mon, Cap’n, you should try some yerself!”

He scoffs.

“It’s fine. I’ll just eat whatever’s leftover when I get back to the barracks later.”

“You know as well as I do that’s a hell of a waste - why let it go cold when you could just eat it right here and now?”

Claw’s gaze narrows further.

“Raven…” he drawls, warningly.

“C’monnnn, it’ll be our little secret! I promise, I won’t tell a soul!” he says, leaning over the table to wave a skewered croquette in his face. Claw’s eyes tick back and forth like a metronome as he watches the morsel, and he thinks he’s almost got him- and then he furrows his brows, eyes clenched shut like a baby rejecting a snack it doesn’t like the look of.

Raven sighs.

“Spoilsport. No one would’ve ever needed to know,” he whines. “‘m just thinkin’ about yer health, Cap’n. Nothin’ more, I swear.”

It happens as he goes to sit up straight - quick as lightning.

He snatches the hand Raven’s waving in front of his face, like a cat pouncing its prey, and hooks a finger over his high, wide collar. Scoops the bite Raven had thought was now destined for him into his own mouth. Replaces the collar as quickly as it left.

It’s maybe 3 seconds at the most. An absolutely miniscule amount of time. But more than enough for a man in Raven’s line of work to get a good look at his permanently-obscured face.

To take in his delicate features - nose long and beak-like, but cheeks far more rounded than he’d expected, pink lips thin yet surprisingly plump, a proud chin despite his round jaw - to be absolutely enraptured by how beautiful he is.

‘Do they hafta keep their faces covered,’ he wonders idly, ‘because they’re all this distractingly beautiful? Or is Claw just a special case?’

He can’t break his eyes away, even after Claw finishes his mouthful, looks up at him expectantly, once more quirks an eyebrow in confusion. His heart is pounding , stirring in a way that feels almost like nostalgia for some reason. He’s hot and cold all at once, cheeks burning but blood like ice, and he longs to reach out and touch him, pull the collar down for a better look, truly commit his face to memory. But then there’s a pain in his heart like a knife, pure grief , and it twists, makes him feel sick to the stomach, and his brain is fuzzy, he doesn’t understand-

“What’re you staring at, old man?”

It feels like being clocked around the head. He scrambles up straight, trying to put as much space between them as he can even as he yearns to be closer.

“Nothing! Nothing at all!”

Claw’s eyebrow climbs ever higher. Raven scrambles for something to say - whatever that was is definitely something to unpack later , if ever at all.

“Anyway, my darlin’ Claw,”

(‘Wait, darlin’??? Where the hell did that come from???’)

“How does it feel to get a taste of yer own food pipin’ hot for once?”

He swears he can see a gentle flush of red to his cheekbones where they peek above the collar.

“...I guess it’s better than when it’s cold.” he mumbles, gaze never meeting Raven’s.

He smiles, satisfied, and does his best to squash down the rest of that strange sensation as he tucks back into his meal.

Later, when Claw is gone and he’s alone with his thoughts, he’ll make a decision. That next time Claw cooks for him, he’ll persuade him to remove the collar again. And maybe he’ll figure out exactly what the lurching of his heart means. Who knows? He might even cook for Claw for a change.

(Something tells him he’s got a sweet tooth. Maybe he likes crepes?)

Little does he know that though certainly, he will receive the offer of Claw’s cooking in exchange for hard work at least once more, never again will he have the opportunity to actually sample it.

((it’s that night that the dreams start))

[yoificfinder]

Hey love, hope you are doing well ✨ I was wondering if you have any recommendations regarding side characters (personality analysis, friendship etc.) I absolutely adore all the side characters in the YOIverse however there are not many fics revolving around them so if you know any good ones, it'd be great!! Thank you so much in advance 💟

Hey dear nonnie! This took a long time, I hope you're still here. I combed through ao3 to find fics I remember that fit your request and discovered new gems along the way! Many of these are not popular/underrated but I guarantee that they're good reads so I hope you (and anyone else who finds this) enjoy! If only for that reason alone, I really hope this rec list becomes one of the most popular posts in this blog (I would really appreciate a reblog!) so these fics/authors can receive more love! Plus this is the most exhaustive and time-consuming rec list I've made so far (but I still feel that I missed a lot so other recs are welcome!).

Without further ado, here are some great YOI side-characters' stories in canonverse:

(Don't) Give A Damn by @forochel [T, 9K]

Mari, through the years.

an open door by tripcyclone [G, 8K]

Lilia never wanted children of her own, but caring for Victor gives her a glimpse into the life she chose to pass by.

Beautiful In Knowing by @val-creative [T, 1K]

Sara knew she was a girl, even if nobody else did or believed her.

She ordered Michele to call her "Lady Sara" from now on. He would roll his eyes and grumble, but never attempt to misgender her. She liked "Sara" — it meant "lady, princess, noblewoman". And she would never go back to her deadname.

by any other name by iguanastevens [T, 2K]

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Yuri's life as told by the names he's given; or, how Yuri's names direct his life.

Feathers on the Ice by Kiranokira / @kyashin [E, 79K]

After dinner and a bath and quality hamster time, snuggled in bed cocooned within his eight entirely necessary pillows, Phichit indulges himself and investigates Seung-gil's hashtag. There isn’t much from Seung-gil himself, but Seung-gil's fans are many and dedicated. Amid the photos of Seung-gil at competitions or practicing and the few candid shots of Seung-gil in airports or out on the streets of Seoul, there’s a very recent professional video uploaded by user andjoy_studio.

Phichit clicks on it, and his life changes.

fermata by perbe [T, 3K]

When one is patchwork of growth plates and bruises, it is inevitable that one must admire boys with words a size too big, as if they know down to their bones that they are meant for something greater.

I used to burn for you, Otabek thinks.

(A character study on Otabek's reaction to his placement at the Grand Prix Finals.)

Go On Ahead by @kiaronna [G, 2K]

Sour, grouchy Yakov didn’t understand sparkly purple skate outfits or wanting to eat your weight in sweets or having crushes on boys.

But Viktor did.

Gossips, Chinese whispers and misunderstandings by womanroaring [M, 8K]

Series of short stories relating to how certain (often perfectly innocent) scenes in Yuri On Ice would have looked from the outside. And just the gossip and stuff that would have surrounded them.

I am Yuri Plisetsky by rinsled05 / @dreaming-fireflies [M, 1K]

Who is Yuri Plisetsky?

He's not Agape.

Not a “prima donna” ballerina.

And definitely no Russian fairy.

No, Yuri Plisetsky is an angry, loud, in-your-face, Russian tiger who will take to the ice and give you a brilliant gold-worthy performance you will never forget.

... a piece on Yuri's rationale for skating to "Welcome to the Madness". Rated for the actual foul-mouthed language in the story itself, courtesy of one Yuri Plisetsky.

if friends were flowers i'd pick you by windupbirdgirl / @tanpopori [G, 4K]

Yuuko thinks of Yuuri’s skating, beautiful and flawed. She thinks of Yuuri sitting with the girls instead of the other boys at practice. She thinks of Yuuri and Viktor, the posters of him he asks her to buy him for birthdays. The posters he wouldn't ask anyone else to buy.

“Oh, Yuuri.” She bites her nails, ruining the carefully applied polish. She doesn’t care at all.

Sitting in that tiny bedroom, she makes a big decision.

if love is king, who wears the crown by @crollalanzaa [G, 1K]

“Second is seen as nothing,” Christophe had derided.

“But that moment you glide onto the ice, that hush of the audience, and that expectation, isn’t that worth something?”

“You speak as if you know. You used to skate?"

Past tense. It still stung, even if it was expected.

Minako knows exactly what it's like to be at the top of your game, and she remembers the descent just as clearly.

if she wants me by renaissance [G, 6K]

Hiroko and Minako, then and now.

kagura by night by seventhstar / @pencilwalla [T, 1K]

The world around her is like the mountains.

A mortal lifespan is narrow; mortals watch the mountain’s unchanging faces, unravaged by the same measure of time that takes a human from dust to dust, and think them immortal in comparison. But stone erodes, just as flesh decays. It just takes longer.

If she watches long enough, everything changes. Languages drift until all the words she learned before are meaningless. Technology changes until she ceases to believe in magic because human ingenuity is more infinite than the stars. What is beautiful, what is polite, what is wrong, what is right—time, given its way, reshapes all.

But Minako’s body remains as it has always been. That’s why she loves to dance, she supposes; it’s the one thing time cannot take from her.

Katsudon by @azriona [G, 8K]

Hiroko doesn’t need to see to coat pork cutlets in egg and panko. She has made this dish for her family for over thirty years; she’ll make it another thirty, if she’s lucky.

Now she makes it for Yuuri and Victor as they fly home from Barcelona, with silver around their necks and gold around their fingers.

keep me steady as we go by strikinglight [G, 3K]

When Isabella stood and crossed the room to where he sat she saw her notebook open in his lap, turned to the last page of their to-do list, all but three items crossed off with less than a month to the wedding date. License. Ceremony. Everything after. She saw the angle of his gaze, too, not on the words but straight ahead, staring blank and glassy and brittle into some invisible place she still wasn’t sure she could follow him to, yet. And yet she had been the one who’d promised to try—and to keep promising, forever and forever.

Kooks by BoxWineConfessions [G, 3K]

Mari clasps her right hand across her left hand and rests them both atop her growing stomach. “I guess you’re just lucky that your father, I mean your other father, my brother-“ Mari giggles. “God, it all sounds so weird, doesn’t it? Do you care? Do you care that we’re all so fucked up and we don’t care at all?” Mari laughs again. It’s all she can do when she hurts this much, and wants a cigarette this much, but can’t stop smiling despite the fact that her body seems to hate her so much. “Well he means the world to me. That’s why I have you.”

Living in the Maybe by @adrianners [T, 6K]

It wasn’t hard to spot a 180cm platinum blond in Fukuoka International Airport. Especially when he was the only person wearing sunglasses. Indoors. At night.

Mari picks Viktor up at the airport when he returns from Moscow. Without Yuuri there to play his usual role of interpreter, they learn to communicate around their linguistic, cultural, and personal barriers.

post tenebras lux by @alykapediaaa [T, 1K]

“Which skater would you say has inspired your skating the most?”

The question catches him unaware, so much so that he’s rendered speechless. It’s only when he sees Yakov lean towards the microphone to answer in his stead that Yuri blurts out the first name that comes to mind.

“Yuuri Katsuki.”

The Best Men by @kiaronna [Not Rated, 5K]

Just as Viktor lives to surprise, Christophe Giacometti lives to scandalize, to sensationalize. But innocent little Phichit Chulanont is proving to be an impossible victim.

OR: where Christophe tries very hard to get under one Thai skater’s skin, and instead finds himself all over the younger skater’s Instagram feed and wrapped around his finger.

the city of bridges by @stammiviktor [T, 5K]

After three flights, a train ride, and dinner at the Katsukis' table, Yakov finally sees Hasetsu through Viktor's eyes.

The First Cut by BoxWineConfessions [E, 27K]

People made divorce seem like this long drawn out and ugly process, but it really wasn’t. He bought the town home for Isabella as a gift, and so it was hers. The flat down town would go to him, as it was closer to the rink. They paid off her medical school loans last fall, so that was done too. He had a few cars, which she unanimously agreed were his to keep, so long as she could keep her Corvette. She changed her vanity plate from Dr. Leroy to Dr. Yang. He saw it parked out front of the courthouse.

trials of Coach Yakov series by @naraht [T and M, 40K]

Summaries of fics in the series:

1. Forced to share a bed with Victor at the Sochi Grand Prix Final, Yakov learns more than he wants to know.

2. Yakov attempts to prepare Yuri for his transition to Seniors. Yuri doesn't care to listen.

3. No sex while you're competing – this is Yakov's rule. His athletes often have other ideas.

4. In 1980, Yakov Feltsman is the USSR's skating hero. At a dull official reception, he defends his loyalty to the motherland – and makes the acquaintance of a beautiful young dancer from the Bolshoi.

5. In which both Victor and Yakov have to remake themselves – Victor after his first Olympic gold and Yakov after his divorce.

Tz'ror by athoroughlybakedpotato [T, 3K]

Yakov changes much slower than the times do, but steadiness is not always a bad thing.

---

ETA - Other people's rec:

curtain of lies by @mandolinearts

JJ's Bizarre Adventure by Falahime

Landscapes of Spring and Summer by @myyoitrashblog

The Melancholy of Georgi Popovich by Falahime

+ a lot more recs on this reblog!!

Thanks for the rec, @vilchen, @genuine-firefly, @adrianners, and @kaleidodreams! ❤

[jawsandbones]

NSFW under cut

He sits on one of the small desks, in this so-called classroom, one leg crossed over the other and dangling free. Hunched over, his elbow rests on his knee, and his chin is propped up against his knuckled fist. His free hand moves over the letters someone had carved into the wood. Perched from where he is, just behind him, to his left, Yuri is easily able to follow the chalk in Byleth’s hand. It’s actually somewhat impressive how he always manages to write completely straight, undeterred by the lack of guiding lines on the board. His script is neat and flowing, easily legible. There’s a mesmerizing quality to each deliberate stroke, the way his letters come together. Byleth pauses, and the chalk does as well, hovering mere millimeters away from the board.

He looks to the left, slightly, at the book open in his other hand. Yuri’s eyes move from the words to the profile of Byleth’s face; pale green hair falling over brighter green eyes. His gaze moves to the round neckline of the tan short sleeve shirt, billowed and overlarge, tucked into tight, dark, high-waisted trousers. It’s rather a treat. One could be forgiven for not noticing exactly how much leg Byleth is. His usual uniform does him no favors. His frame is not without width, but it’s a natural and easy strength. His wrists are slender and gorgeous, and there’s a small birthmark on his collarbone. All these things that hardly anyone gets to see, but here he stands. Of all places, in Abyss, preparing the morning lesson for the children.

And there, Yuri sits, and studies him.

“You’re down here so often, someone might get the impression that you actually love Abyss,” Yuri says, jaw pushing against his fist with each word. Byleth’s eyes immediately move from the page, to him, and he closes the book, slides it onto the desk closest to him. He steps out of Yuri’s way, so he can see the entirety of the board. As he writes, flecks of chalk fall steadily downward, worn down by Byleth’s writing.

I do love Abyss. He writes it as neatly as all the rest, and underlines do. Then, he steps back, looks at Yuri, and taps the chalk against the board to ensure he reads it. Yuri tilts his head slightly, and smiles acknowledgement.

“Or maybe you’re coming here for a different reason?” Easily, Yuri slips from his perch. He walks forward towards him, and plucks the chalk from his grasp. He begins to turn it over and over again, pinched between his finger and his thumb, as he looks up at Byleth. Still turning the chalk, he raises his hand to touch the knuckle of his index finger against his bottom lip. “Perhaps it’s not teaching, or Abyss that you love. Maybe you love me instead?” Byleth, ever silent, simply blinks at his question.

If he weren’t so close, he might never have seen it. That barely perceivable knot between Byleth’s brows, hidden behind choppy cut bangs. Without realizing, Yuri holds his breath, as though the very act of it might drown out the sound of Byleth’s words. Instead, Byleth steals the chalk back from him. Yuri bites back the sigh of disappointment, and as he watches the first stroke, some strange fear seizes him. His hand shoots out faster than he means it to, wrapping around Byleth’s wrist, stopping him. “I changed my mind. That’s not a question I think I want answered right now,” he says, that perfectly acted smile still gracing his lips.

Yuri pulls Byleth’s hand towards him, and sets the chalk aside. He turns their hands so that, and keeps hold of his wrist. With his other hand, he lets lazy fingertips drift touch over the intersecting lines of Byleth’s palm. “I think half the reason the kids come to your lessons, and pay attention as well as you do, is that they’re waiting to hear you speak,” he says. His gaze flicks from his palm to his face, and Yuri looks at him through dark lashes, his own lavender locks a nuisance at his temple. It’s impossible to tell what he might be thinking, impossible to tell what he wants.

It’s easier than he expected. Yuri swipes a leg out from under him, turns Byleth’s hand, his arm. Still holding his arm, he pushes him over a desk. “No? Nothing yet?” Byleth, bent over the desk, wisps of hair swirling around his head, looks at him over his shoulder, and shrugs. Yuri looks left and right, spots a coil of rope within reaching distance. One of the perks of Abyss: everything’s a scrapheap. Keeping Byleth pinned, although he isn’t exactly fighting, Yuri ties his hands together behind his back. Around and around his wrists, not loose but not so tight that it hurts him. Just enough to leave a mark if he struggles. Standing on his toes, Yuri puts a hand on the flat of Byleth’s back, and leans over to whisper by his ear. “I’ll let you go if you tell me something nice.”

Byleth straightens up and stands with surprising ease, so much so that Yuri takes a few steps back. Byleth follows, keeps the distance between them minimal, until the back of Yuri’s thighs bump against a desk. Stiff but for a moment, he lets his shoulders fall as he eases himself to lean against the desk, his fingers curling around the edges of it. He smirks up at him. “Are you trying to frighten me into letting you go?” Byleth shakes his head. “Then? You know the terms,” he says. Yuri’s eyes widen as Byleth leans forward, down slightly, and he thinks his lips might be heading for his – until they move past him, by his ear.

The seconds seem to drag into hours as Byleth draws near. Yuri can hear the steady sound of his breathing, feel the very life of him. His breath hitches when he hears Byleth lick his lips, take a heavy inhale. He expects words. Byleth’s tongue flicks out, finds skin, teeth biting gently against his lobe. A harder bite, a slight tug. A softer nibble once again. Another flick of his tongue, and he traces his way back up the shell of his ear. A cool exhale and it’s enough for gooseflesh to appear, the hairs on his arms rising. One of Yuri’s hands moves from the desk to rest against Byleth’s chest, and this time when Byleth moves, his lips find their proper partner.

They both seek the upper hand here. Yuri drags his tongue against Byleth’s lips as he wraps his fist in his shirt. He pulls his bottom lip between his own teeth, forces Byleth to open his mouth to him. Byleth is forceful in return, savoring the sweetness of Yuri’s lipstick. He pushes it further, wedges a leg between Yuri’s. He places a small amount of pressure against him with his thigh as he ensures there’s hardly any space between them. Yuri’s kept his eyes closed, but opens them now, finds Byleth already looking at him. There’s an unexpected hunger in his eyes, so much so that a small tremor runs down Yuri’s spine.  

“What a shame you’re all tied up,” Yuri says breathlessly, between kisses, “I wouldn’t mind being touched right now.” The only acknowledgement is Byleth’s tongue in his mouth, sucking at his lip. That leg presses harder, rubs against him slightly. His head turns, their noses bump against each other as they re-adjust, and there’s an insistence to the way Byleth’s tongue moves. As though it isn’t enough. Hazy, Yuri looks at Byleth, watches him through half-lidded eyes. His hand moves to his shoulder as Byleth’s kiss slips to the edge of his mouth, to his cheek, back to his ear.

“I don’t need my hands for that,” Byleth says, “Yuri-bird.” Yuri’s eyes widen, his face immediately flushing a deep shade of red, a full body shiver running through him. His mouth is right by his ear. His voice is low, hoarse, unused. Deep, whispered, barely audible and yet the words ring and echo inside of Yuri. Byleth’s eyes never leave his as he goes to his knees, looks up at Yuri, hands still tied behind his back. His nose finds the edge of Yuri’s tunic, moves it up, until he finds the soft flesh of his belly. He licks just below his navel, at the soft wisps of hair which he follows downwards.

Yuri’s hands once again wrap around the edge of the desk, fingertips pressing hard against the wood enough that his knuckles turn white. Byleth is still looking up at him, making sure he’s watching. His teeth tug against the edge of his trousers, his tongue pressing against the button until it pops free. Still biting at the lip of his trousers, he pulls them back, down, and then moves forward once again. Byleth breathes against the cotton of his undergarments, against where Yuri’s cock strains. He had been half hard while they were kissing, but the sound of his voice made him instantly stiffen, ready, wanting just as much as Byleth.

Yuri resists the urge to shift his hips forward as Byleth presses his face against his cock. He drags his tongue along the fabric, against him, sucking slightly at the tip. Then he’s moving again, up, to the hem of his undergarments. The flash of teeth, dragging them downwards, over his cock, until it’s finally freed. Byleth leans back where he kneels, looking at it, up at him, and opens his mouth. His tongue is resting against his bottom lip, and that’s what finds him first. Yuri groans at that first lick against the underside of his cock, all the way from base to tip. At the head of him, Byleth swallows him whole.

Yuri’s unable to stop the guttural groan from escaping him. His carefully positioned posture breaks so that he leans over Byleth, one hand now grasping at the back of his head. His hand fumbles until he finds a fistful of Byleth’s hair. Byleth’s nose once again presses against that space underneath his naval, the sound of him sucking at his cock vulgar and satisfying. It’s not that he hasn’t been fucked before, or that he hasn’t fucked, but when it’s with him, it’s different. Everything feels brighter, closer, the whole of his body prickling with pleasure.

Byleth begins to move his head back and forth, his cheeks hollow, and his tongue never once settling. He presses pressure against the sensitive spot at the underside of his head, then swirls around him. Byleth savors that first taste of sweetness, salty stickiness which begins to leak freely from his cock. Yuri’s hand squeezes in his hair, the other coming to rest at his shoulder. His face is flushed a deep red, his mouth open and panting, eyes wet as though on the brink of tears. Yuri’s unable to stop his hips from rocking, from meeting him, from fucking into his mouth.  

Yuri nearly falters when he feels a touch at the v-line of his hip. Byleth’s thumb runs over the curve of it, his other hand moving up his leg. The rope lies undone over his legs. That hand on his hip is a bruising touch, moving upwards, underneath his shirt. It rises steadily over the curve of him, back down again. “By-” He’s barely able to open his eyes, barely able to focus enough to get the words out, “Byleth, I’m going to come–” Byleth moves his head back, the length of him moving from his throat, until his lips kiss the tip of his cock.

He catches Yuri’s eyes, keeps his gaze. “Please do,” he says, in a voice so low Yuri’s barely able to hear him, “I won’t spill a drop,” but hear him he does. His cock twitches at the sound of his words, until Byleth is wrapping his tongue around his head, taking him deep once again. Byleth holds him steady, one hand at the back of his thigh, and the other arm around his waist. He takes him in completely, nose brushing against belly, breath warm against skin. Yuri’s hands tighten in Byleth’s hair as he unravels, spills himself, feeling the contractions of Byleth’s throat as he swallows all he has to offer without hesitation.

Yuri’s legs half wobble, the entirety of his body dizzy with realized desire. The flush sits deep in his cheeks, flourishes at the back of his neck. He watches as Byleth swipes at the side of his mouth, then leans forward once again. His shirt is still lifted, his trousers still open and undergarments lowered. At the spot where his legs meet his hips, where soft lilac curls end, Byleth kisses smooth flesh. Then, he seals his mouth against him, sucks slightly. He comes away with a pop, leaves a love mark. Before he stands, Byleth rights his undergarments, and does the button up on his trousers.

The shirt however, he leaves. Greedy, slipping touch underneath it, fingertips finding the prickles of sweat on Yuri’s back. He leans down some to touch his forehead against Yuri’s, biting his bottom lip as he does. What a change in him. From that, to this, and if Byleth had a tail, Yuri is sure it would be wagging right now. A good boy, begging to be praised. Yuri reaches up, a hand against his cheek. Byleth closes his eyes, leans into the touch. “You are something else, you know that?” Yuri says, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse. He watches Byleth’s eyes slowly open again, a certain softness in the green. He feels his heart skip a beat as the smile spreads warm across Byleth’s face.    

[queerchoicesblog]

Like Snow (Edge of Extinction, Grace x MC x Anna)

So, here's the fanfic I promised. Warning: it's kinda sad but if you're playing the book it doesn't exactly strike as happy sunshine, right?

I wrote it portraying the POV of the three women (Grace, F!MC Ellen and Anna) so yeah, it's like having 3 fanfics in one xD It takes place immediately after the latest episode and shows how the relationships/bonds evolve between the three women. It's non-canon obviously so feel free to disagree. Hope you enjoy it though!

Disclaimer: all the characters do not belong to me, they're borrowed from @playstoryscape game as well as a few lines of the original book.

Moreover, this fanfic is influenced by my playthrough where Pavel dies in the rescue of the hermit and F!MC gets the new outfit triggering the scene with Grace. There are also references to death, alcohol consumption, grieving and (internalized-ish) homophobia: if you're not comfortable with these issues, please consider skipping this.

Word Count: 2500+

Tag: @storyscaped @storyscapefanficarchive @aestheticsayeed @ghost-of-yuri @andi-the-cat (not sure your yes meant add me so feel free to ignore it in case you're not interested xD) @animus-and-anima

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Grace POV

There she is!

The ex-military took a sigh of relief as she spotted Ellen on the other side of the church. She didn't tell anyone where she was heading and an uncomfortable feeling of concern took hold of Grace even if she kept herself busy with chores and checking in on Mari, baby Pavel and everyone else. Now that Ellen was here though it was as if a huge burden was lifted off her chest: too many things went wrong out there not to worry when someone left their sanctuary. Not to make a habit to brace yourself for the worst even after the hermit was successfully cured and part of the crew.

When she was a few steps away, Grace leaned over a pile of boxes and took in Ellen's figure. The Doctor was checking herself in a crooked mirror they found in an abandoned clothes shop in Tromstad. Fine new black boots, jeans that fit perfectly enhancing every curve, well every curve that survived the malnourishment they all experienced. A white top under a gorgeous leather jacket that made her look radiant and tough. Grace found herself staring a bit longer than she probably should have and for once, for so long after all the tragedies that haunted the group of survivors...for the first time after her husband passed away a life ago, she decided not to predict herself for that.

Instead, she allowed herself to break into a grin as she wondered whether she chose those clothes accidentally or because they reminded her of the outfits she used to wear before the world they knew was torn asunder. When they were strangers living miles and miles away and most likely would have never met if it wasn't for that tragedy. A sudden thought made the soldier smile, almost blush: yet if by chance she had walked past her in the street or crossed her path wearing those clothes, she would have made her turn her head to follow such a vision.

"I like the new looks. It suits you" she said after a moment, hoping not to scare the doctor.

Ellen froze for a moment then spun towards her. The look on her face was a bit confused and wary: she wasn't expecting such a comment from Grace or she had no idea how to take that. Luckily, it soon softened into slight amusement as she relaxed. To prove that she meant no harm, Grace crossed her arms and playfully raised an eyebrow, breaking her usual military demeanor: a look not many got to see.

Apparently, Ellen noticed as there was a hint of tease in her voice when she answered:

"Thanks. I...guess I clean up pretty well"

Understatement of the century, Grace noted in her head but Ellen was now looking at her with curiosity, surely trying to figure out what were the soldier's true intentions as she wasn't known for outstanding bonding skills nor frivolous conversation. Realizing that she needed to provide some sort of explanation for such an off character behavior, she cleared her throat and gave a quick smile.

"Noticed you'd wandered off, so I came to check on you. Didn't mean to intrude"

The Doctor looked a bit surprised but was quick to conceal it. She just shrugged and smiled back, gesturing that there was no need for apologies. 

Grace gave a polite nod, ready to shift back into her military demeanor...but for some reason she failed. Instead of walking away as she knew she should have done or Ellen probably expected her to do as she was already turning to gather her old clothes scattered on a chair, Grace spoke again. The words that kept haunting her for days dropped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"I don't know how it's all going to play out when we get there, but I know one thing: we never would have made this far without you"

Ellen froze for a moment then turned: surprise was written all over her face. Grace sighed and continued.

"I wanted you to know we're all grateful. Everyone knows how much the group needs you"

She buried the most compromising part, grateful to her military training that thought her to say less "I" and more "we", the crew, the group when speaking to others. So she hid behind a grateful smile how much she, Grace, the woman underneath the army fatigues she was still wearing needed her, Ellen, the foolish, heroic woman with a medical degree.

"I'd say the same about you" 

Of course Ellen wouldn't just accept a compliment: Grace should have known that the resident proved herself to be generous and selfless enough to give it back and appraise her leadership. Typical Ellen, she thought, unable to prevent herself from smiling. 

"I know nothing is guaranteed" she added after much internal debate whether to keep the conversation going or retreat before it was too late: feelings are a minefield. "But the future doesn't seem hopeless anymore. A lot of that is because of you and everything you've done"

Yeah, that was a nice way to put it down into words. With a bit of luck, Ellen wouldn't have grasped the hidden layer of meaning of it: Grace had been so secretive and distant, how could she suspect that she had been a light in the dark in so many ways?

F!MC POV

The cold breeze of the night welcomed Ellen as she stepped out of the church. She wrapped her wool scarf around her and took a deep breath. She needed a break: she wasn't able to get back to sleep last night after seeing Anna hurting so bad...but the woman she kissed what sounded like in another life only pushed her away. Again. As her wobbly figure disappeared out of view she laid back in her tent but she had no luck getting back to the safe faraway of dreams. The day kept her busy and the group kept her busy: no new threat was in sight but there was so much to do to properly prepare everyone for the trip. But now she had nothing to keep her from reminiscing Anna's hurtful drunken words.

"Maybe I was wrong to leave Pavel for you. Maybe all of this started because I was unfaithful to him"

"I love you. I just..."

"I know I've made things hard on you lately. But I just keep thinking about Pavel"

Same old story just with a touch of tragedy this time. "I love you but": God knew if it hadn't been a pattern for Ellen. She couldn't count the times she heard this. But now it was the woman, unhappy former athlete who just started to shine again until shit happened and Ellen failed. Devastating despair was in Anna bright eyes as she cradled Pavel's lifeless body and begged her to do something. Ellen was a doctor, right? She could certainly do something to save him. But no, Ellen couldn't. It was too late for that, she could only bury the hatchet and whisper a dying man a comforting lie not even him believe to. 

Anna never met her gaze again that day and the day after, shuttering herself in mourning isolation. She had never been the same since that day and the accidental meeting they had last night confirmed it. As much as it hurt, now there was only Pavel and her self-guilt in Anna's mind: no more room for Ellen. The doctor found herself wondering if deep down Anna was angry at her for being so helpless and...unhelpful the day Pavel was shot. 

"Long time no see" 

A familiar voice brought her back to the real world. It startled Ellen a little before she turned to see Grace giving her a friendly nod from the wall she was sitting on, her rifle at her side.

Ellen was so grateful. It was good not to be alone with her own thoughts on a night like that. She returned the nod and smiled to herself: who better than an ex-military to be her knight in shining armor?

"Did I spook you?" Grace inquired as she moved a bit closer.

"Nah, of course not" Ellen shook her head, hoping to be convincing.

"You sure?"

"Positive, ma'am" Ellen sighed, mocking a salute that she could have sworn made Grace chuckle. "Are you on sentry duty?"

"Yes" the soldier confirmed. "I think we're safe now but lowering our guard now would be inconsiderate. Especially now that Mari gave birth to a baby..."

"Yes, I just checked on them. The little boy is fine and heavenly resting in his mom's arms. Stig is with them now"

For a moment Ellen was jealous of Mari's baby, safe in loving arms and untouched by the dire situation humanity was facing. Just a hopeful little boy offering smiles to everyone. 

As realization hit her, she pushed her hands in the pockets of her jeans and exhaled loudly as if to get rid of her own sadness: Grace had too much to keep in check as their leader to be given such an additional burden.

"Anyway...I'll get out of your hair, you're on duty and-"

"You can stay if you want" Grace anticipated her, offering a quick smile.

"-I don't want to bother you"

"I'm a woman, I can multitask pretty well" she commented, teasingly raising an eyebrow.

For some reason, Ellen found the playful gesture seductive and she had to refrain herself from biting her lip when Grace scooped over and patted the seat beside her on the bench. 

"Here, join me, Doc"

"You know it's Ellen for you" she said, obliging and taking a seat too.

"My my, when did we become so casual?"

It surprised Ellen to still hear a hint of tease in her voice: Grace was definitely showing a whole new side that day.

"Why, you're really gonna call me Doc, lieutenant?"

"Hey, for your information I am a Captain, not a lieutenant"

"I'm terribly sorry, apologies, ma'am"

The two of them shared a look and chuckled but it was soon clear that the moment was gone. Silence settled back between the two women and Grace resumed her sentry duty. However, she was the first to speak again after some time.

"Hey I...I hope I'm not overstepping but are you okay?"

"As okay as I can be, Captain" Ellen shrugged. "I'm just...concerned about Anna"

Grace nodded, her eyes scanning the surroundings.

"Yes, you mentioned that. I promise I will check on her in the morning and talk to her. But-" she took a pause. "I'm sorry, I know you two are...close"

"Were, were close I guess" the doctor corrected her, grimacing. "I appreciate your concern, Grace, but no need to worry about me. I'm used to this, to unhappy endings"

The Captain furrowed her brows and did her best not to betray too much sympathetic curiosity when she inquired:

"Did you lose a dear one too?" 

Ellen shrugged and shifted to sit more comfortably. Then she winced and sighed deeply, enhancing a puff of air.

"Not exactly. I just never was the one women would take a chance on"

Grace shifted to face her.

"What do you mean?"

Ellen met her gaze and gave her a bitter smile. 

"I don't have the best record when it comes to relationships. Sure, the medical residency kept me busy enough but even aside from that I guess I'm not 'a keeper'" she shrugged her shoulder and looked into the distance. "Good for a one night stand or a flirt but not for more. The 'love at first sight' in a drunken gay bar night to ghost once you go back to your real life. A girl I had some kind of story with, the no-strings-attached type, dumped me when I asked to go steady then dropped to one knee and proposed to her new partner or so I heard. Last time I checked, they lived in a villa downtown with two Labradors."

Bad idea to go there: reminiscing Tiffany hurt even if the scar she left was quite healed. But Ellen fell hard for that girl, she saw a future with that girl...unlike Tiffany. The upset look on her face when Ellen asked her to be her girlfriend and the smile she had showing an engagement ring to the camera on the social media feed was still like a punch in the stomach. Especially now.

"Once I even got involved with a colleague at the hospital. It ended badly cause well I didn't know she was married" Ellen inhaled sharply and continued. "I-I suppose it's kind of a pattern to me"

Grace looked back to her and the two of them shared a long pained gaze.

Anna POV

Oy Moroz Moroz Oh moroz moroz ne moroz menya ne moroz menya

Usually, long walks never failed to clear Anna's mind and calm her. They always did, before any competition, whenever she was stressed or doubting herself. Now she felt no comfort: she was just walking in melting snow, swaying a bottle of vodka in her hands and singing in a low voice that Russian tune her father used to sing whenever he came home and had a bit too much on the way back. 

The demons that had been haunting her couldn't be pacified.

She shut her eyes as another vision appeared. She could have sworn that Pavel's ghost was near...or maybe she was just going insane for good. But she could feel his presence lingering, his voice encouraging her to toughen up, saying she was stronger than this and no matter how hard it looked now, she would have been victorious. 

Then she remembered that it was what he used to tell her before every competition so long time ago. He would place his hands on her shoulder and gave her pep talks that usually ended up like "Annushka, stop second-guessing yourself. Go out there and be like ice: strong and shiny in the spotlight cause you're the star. My star".

What he didn't mention is that ice can break too and that's exactly how Anna felt like now: shattered, crushed, in pieces.

Pasha...since that cursed day her days and nights had been a series of nightmares and hurtful visions. One moment she was dancing, gracefully flying in Pasha's arms at their wedding party, happy faces and smiles all around then out of the blue a dark bloodstain would spread on her husband's white shirt as all went dark and Pavel would fall on his knees and begged her to help him, desperately reaching for her.

Anna shook her head and took a long pull from her bottle. There was no way out of this pain, she thought as she kept walking back to the church. Why did Pasha have to change? She always knew he was a believer but lately, after the spread of the lethal virus he became obsessed with God and the book of Apocalypse. He started seeing signs of an approaching Doomsday everywhere and when they managed to survived he convinced himself that they were the Chosen ones, they had a mission and a duty to humanity...all that foolish religious rubbish pushed her away from him. He wasn't the man she married anymore.

Then she met the doctor. Ellen from America: kind, brave, compassionate and rational gorgeous Ellen. She had never questioned her sexuality before, was it even an option? Every woman she knew, family or friend, was happy or pretended to be happy with her husband cause "that's how things go, Anja", her mother cut every objection short once. So she obliged, married her sweetheart but years later from that the day she said yes to him on the altar things changed. He changed, she changed. And some invincible force waltzed her into the arms of a woman, an inconceivable thought till that very day. A bond against nature, an abomination for everyone she knew. 

But  Ellen's lips were so soft and her hold so comforting that for the first time in ages Anna felt safe.

And it was all gone now.

She had been avoiding Ellen ever since the day Pasha died. Too much pain to face her, when she bumped into her the previous night it was awful: the look of concern and love in her eyes made Anna bleed even more. 

Maybe Pavel was right after all. Maybe not about the hermit but about the God punishment talk she predicted him for. And Ellen: she surely wasn't a "witch" but could she deny she had been their downfall? All their issues skyrocketed since she first appeared out of nowhere, a daughter of the snowy Norwegian winter. She separated what God united, as preaches and her grandma would say, and what happened? People started dying, Pavel sank even deeper into his religious madness and eventually died. And Ellen was a doctor, funny enough. The moment she kept gravitating towards the gorgeous stranger, tragedies followed one after another. She accepted the love of the gorgeous woman and her husband got shot dead. Coincidences?

Anna hit her head with a fist as if to get rid of all that poisonous nonsense. No, Ellen told her that this was not what happened, just ghosts of her mind, her sense of guilt and grief speaking but she couldn't think straight anyway. Anymore. The succession of days felt like a hallucination and not even sleep could bring her peace, just the opposite. How can anyone preserve their sanity in a situation like this?

Maybe I should talk to Ellen, whenever I feel I can meet her eyes without crying like the weakling I am now, she considered as the familiar silhouette of the church appeared in sight. She's kind and she said she loves me. I gave her a hard time but maybe we can start over again. Maybe she can help.

She was almost there when she spotted two people sitting in the distance yet not too far to recognize them. She couldn't make out a word of what they were saying but they were certainly Ellen and Grace. 

Anna froze in place: lately, she hadn't been around much, mostly hiding in her tent or disappearing for walks and avoiding any kind of interaction with the rest of the group, but last time she checked the two women weren't that close. God, Grace hardly bonded with anyone, she was so busy being the leader and checking everything, organizing their daily routine in the midst of chaos and the journey to the Seed Vault...so how could she be holding Ellen's hand now? Her hand was holding the doctor's one - a hand who once held her close as Ellen's soft lips pressed a kiss on Anna's mouth- and she was saying something that apparently drew a shy smile on Ellen's face. What...what did she say? Why Ellen was smiling and squeezing her hand back? What...what did she miss out?

As the two women shared another smile and broke eye contact to look into the distance still holding hands, Anna stumbled to hide behind a solitary tree.

Even ice can break, she whispered as new tears welled her eyes. I was too slow, took too much time, never be slow Anna, never! Didn't your coaches tell you? Maybe I was so convincing when I begged her to leave me alone.

Tears found their way down her cheeks reddened by alcohol and the chilly gusts of wind that blew like a slap on her face.

Maybe our love was just like snow: beautiful and soft but it melts away when the spring sun starts shining again. Just like snow...  

[potyaislife]

A Good Omens AU of Yuri on Ice? It’s more likely than you think

Yuuri first met him in a drought-stricken river town in Sumer, circa 3000 BCE. It went downhill from there.

With the merciless midsummer sun shining into his eyes, and sweat gathering at his temples and dripping down his back, Yuuri almost didn’t notice him at first. Yuuri had stopped short at the edge of a crowd, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. Two people in front of him had moved, and Yuuri suddenly had an unobstructed view of a stunningly handsome man with a bright smile, who was ladling out cupfuls of cool spring water from a large earthenware jog at his side. The man had looked up, and as soon as his sparkling eyes met Yuuri’s, he knew. The handsome stranger was one of them.

Yuuri had started backing away slowly, then he turned and ran down the street, dodging an out-of-control cart as he did so. Looking back, he saw two young children playing in the street, directly in the path of the runaway cart. He didn’t hesitate at all, even though he should have. He skidded to a stop, pulled the kids out of the way, then kept running. He was afraid to look back. If he was lucky, that other hadn’t seen him betraying his (literally) hellish doctrine.

He was not lucky. Only a few moments later, the other cut him off as he came out of an alley.

“Hey!” he said, grabbing Yuuri’s arm as Yuuri tried to get around him. “Wait! Look, I just want to chat a little, I haven’t met anyone else for millennia!”

“Are you crazy?” Yuuri hissed. “You have to know that I’m –,”

“A demon?” He was speaking in a normal tone of voice. There were people near by who where going to hear him. Whoever this person was, Yuuri realized that he must be insane. Too long alone among humans could drive even the best operatives over the edge, Yuuri had seen it happen. He might even blow Yuuri’s cover if he didn’t shut up. He was still talking uncomfortable loudly, saying “…that was a bona fide good deed.”

“What?” Yuuri asked despite himself. Yuuri flipped his arm so that he was gripping the other’s wrist, and he dragged him back into the alley where they couldn’t be overhead so easily. Dimly, Yuuri wondered why he wasn’t just doing the smart thing and running away, but it seemed like the decision had been made already without his input. Apparently, he was going to hear this hopeless stranger out.

“I was saying, you can’t be very serious about being a demon, because you saved those kids back there and that’s pretty unequivocally a good deed, at least in my book,” he said earnestly, peering at Yuuri with his bright eyes.

“But, um, we’re supposed to be enemies–,” Yuuri started to say. The other waved it aside.

“Oh, pooh, the only strong force of evil that I see comes from the humans themselves,” Yuuri stared, but the stranger wasn’t done, “… it’s just like how the most intense good is done by them, without any prompting from me. Sometimes both is even from the same human? I haven’t figured out how that works yet.” He paused, finally noticing Yuuri’s blank look.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I, sorry,” he continued. “Anyway I just wanted someone to talk to who has lived more than a couple centuries, you know?” He stopped again, watching Yuuri, who was still staring at him, struck silent. The phrase the strongest evil comes from humanity was echoing in his head. It was true, it tallied with what he had seen, but he would never have been able to put it into words, let alone say it aloud.

“Um, clearly you don’t want to talk,” the stranger was withdrawing from him. “I should just let you go, you’re right that it’s dangerous, so.” His posture looked defeated now, and his eyes were no longer sparkling. Yuuri inexplicably felt pity well up in him, as well as another, undefinable emotion. Afterwards, he would remember this moment as the one that sealed his fate.

“No, wait,” Yuuri said, swallowing down the frantic thoughts of what are you doing you are going to get yourself fired. “Let’s talk. Just, uh, not out in the open?”

“Oh, oh! Wonderful!” The stranger smiled, and his whole face lit up. Yuuri had to look away – it was too pretty, and he’d only agreed to talk. Anything else was exponentially more dangerous, no matter how much he wanted it.

The stranger held out his hand. “I’m Viktor. I know it’d be easier if we don’t share names but, well, you’ll have to call me something!”

“Um, I guess?” said Yuuri. He took Viktor’s hand. It was warm, and their palms fit perfectly together. He sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound.“I’m Yuuri.”

“Yuuri!” Viktor trilled the r. “I love it! My place isn’t far, Yuuri, would you mind that?”

“Uh, no.” said Yuuri. At least it would be private. And of course Viktor’s angelic superiors might call in at any time. But he was committed now.

They walked out of the village, as Viktor lived just outside of town. Yuuri felt crushingly awkward. At least with humans, if he embarrassed himself in front of them, he could just leave the area for a couple hundred years and then no one would remember him at all. Viktor wouldn’t forget so quickly. Quite aside from the fact that he was an angel and therefore Yuuri’s sworn enemy for all eternity.

Speaking of eternity, it felt like at least one had passed since Yuuri had last said something. Viktor must think he was – well, actually Viktor was still chatting merrily about something. The village, he was talking about the village and the recent drought, comparing it to the weather patterns of the area over the last several decades.

They reached the house, and Viktor made him a hot drink. They sat cross-legged on cushions on the floor. Yuuri stared into his cup and tried not to look around for angelic weapons.

“So, have you been in the area long?” Viktor asked him.

“Not really, just a few weeks,” Yuuri said cautiously. He’d fled here from the city because he had accidentally become the center of a scandal involving an extremely wealthy man’s daughter and son, who were both young adults and both determined that sleeping with Yuuri would be the best way to rebel against their father’s strict rule.

Yuuri had tried to avoid them, but his luck was terrible and the two siblings had caught each other trying to sneak into his apartment on the same night. Their resulting fight was so raucous that it raised the city guard and Yuuri had wound up in jail. He’d teleported out easily enough, of course, but the indignity still bothered him.

He didn’t want to tell any of this to Viktor, though. Viktor would probably think badly of him, as he had seduced the ‘innocent’, accident or no, and caused harm to befall them. One part of Yuuri very pointedly wanted to know why Viktor’s good opinion was so important to him, when Viktor’s ideals were supposedly the polar opposite of his.

He told that part of himself to shut up. Viktor was watching him curiously, head tilted slightly to the side. It was adorable. Yuuri scrambled for conversation.

“Where do you like best?” he asked. “I mean, which part of the world,” he added at Viktor’s confused look.

Viktor beamed and launched into a description of a long-faded aquatic society on a far-off island chain, now submerged under risen sea levels, though descendants of its people still lived on the mainland.  

“They spent so much time on the water, I loved the freedom of it,” Viktor confessed, leaning closer to Yuuri under the pretext of refilling his cup.

Their jobs, nearly identical in practice despite being ideologically opposed, meant that they moved around a lot, and had little-to-no contact with their fellow agents. Yuuri felt himself blossoming in the company of someone who understoodin a way no other person he’d talked to in centuries had, and Viktor obviously felt the same. He practically begged Yuuri not to leave when evening came, but Yuuri held firm. He did not want to get caught and dragged back to Hell for fraternizing with an enemy. Yuuri liked living on Earth, despite all its flaws. Plus, his fellow demons would torture him.

So he took his leave of Viktor, was carefully noncommittal when Viktor asked if he could see him again, and resolved to stay away from angels in the future, no matter how charming.  

[avaruussade]

Fraying at the Edges

otayuri | T-rated | 8.2K words

“Yuri knows that if Otabek decides to do something, no one can stop him; and Yuri wouldn’t even try to stop Otabek if he suddenly told him he’s going to move to Canada to get better at skating. And apparently he had told everyone he’s going to do just that - everyone, except Yuri.“

This is part 3 of my "DJ Otabek" series, but it doesn't necessarily require reading the previous parts.

Read on AO3

It’s not quite summer yet, but the night in Almaty is warm when Yuri and Otabek meet up with the Kazakh skater’s friends outside a club located in the heart of the city. At the door they’re greeted by a familiar face, the bouncer’s serious expression changing into a wide smile when he recognizes Yuri. “Congratulations, my boys. You did well!” Yuri thanks him with a small laugh, not even trying to hide how much the bouncer’s broken Russian and warm words mean to him. The man shakes hands with him and Otabek before letting them in, telling them to have a fun night. The competitive season ended just a few weeks ago, and it’s the first time in months Yuri feels like he can smile and laugh freely. The season wasn’t easy for him: he suffered an ankle injury in the Grand Prix final, which resulted in badly executed programs in Euros. Somehow he managed to make a full recovery before Worlds where he skated to gold, and the medal definitely made up for his poor performances earlier in the season.

However, he wasn’t the only one struggling: Otabek stood on the podium next to Yuri in Worlds, but it was his first medal of the season. Even though Otabek landed his jumps somewhat perfectly and skated to nice scores in every competition, Yuri could tell something was wrong with him. Nothing else in Otabek’s life seemed to be crooked - he smiled when he talked about his family and he joked around with his friends like usual - so Yuri didn’t ask him about it. Everyone has ups and downs every season, and for some the downs last a bit longer. The competition in men’s singles is tough (even now after the retirement of both Viktor and Katsuki), and Otabek had never wore his heart on his sleeve when he skated. The lack in Otabek’s presentation scores had been a real problem this season, and he was as aware of it as everyone else. Otabek puts an arm around Yuri’s waist and pulls him closer when they line up for drinks. The steady music vibrates the floor underneath their feet, and even though the club isn’t fully packed yet Yuri knows that after a couple of hours it will be. The dance floor’s wild lights create a colorful show on the club’s high ceiling, shadows bouncing off the walls and getting mixed with the hot, almost humid air around them. Otabek is supposed to play later that night, but before that they’re going to relax and let loose together without having to worry about scores, rankings or practice the next day. They make their way through the crowd and eventually manage to claim a table on the balcony. They can barely hear each other since the dance floor is right beneath them, but at least they will have a perfect view of the stage when it’s Otabek’s time to get behind the turntables. Yuri’s plane landed only a few hours ago, so he’s happy to just sit down on the wide couch paired with their table and sip on his drink while listening to the conversation between Otabek and his friends. Yuri understands most of it (he studied the language during long flights and in hotel rooms throughout the season, Otabek helping him whenever he could), but he’s too tired from all the travelling to say anything. Otabek is sitting right next to him, an arm around his shoulders, and that’s enough for now. Every now and then Otabek glances at him, as if to make sure he really is still there, and every time he does that Yuri presses a quick, lazy kiss on his lips. Yuri is fully aware they’re in a public place surrounded by dozens of people who could recognize them, but he has decided not to care. They had maintained their relationship through a tough competitive season, and to Yuri’s surprise it was Otabek who had said he wouldn’t mind people knowing about them. Most of their friends and family already knew: Viktor and Yuuri had walked in on them making out in the dressing room of Yuri’s home rink, which meant all of Yuri’s rinkmates (including his coaches) were informed before the two of them could do anything about it. Otabek had told his family soon after that, and later he revealed to Yuri that he had told his closest friends even before the incident with Viktor and Yuuri. But the public still didn’t know, and in a post-banquet talk after Worlds they had came to the conclusion that they would stop hiding it, and if someone asked, they’d be honest. Yuri has a feeling that’s easier to say than do, but right now he doesn’t care: he smiles against Otabek’s lips and lets him take his hand, telling himself he’s blushing because of the alcohol and not because Alina, one of Otabek’s friends, calls them ‘so damn adorable’. It’s Alina who takes the place next to Yuri when Otabek has to get on the stage. Yuri sends him off with a kiss and gets a small smile in return, the sight of it making Yuri’s chest feel a tiny bit tighter. “It’s truly great to see Beka so happy,” Alina says after Otabek has disappeared behind the stage. “You’re good to him.” “He makes me happy,” Yuri confesses, hiding behind his glass. Alina smiles warmly at the words. “Beka has had his own struggles, you know. I’ve known him for a long time, and up until now I’ve felt like nothing but skating and making music could make him smile like that. You must be special,” she says with a teasing wink, and Yuri rolls his eyes at her. However, a part of him understands perfectly: for years Yuri felt like he was trapped in the middle of his negative emotions, getting crushed under everyone’s expectations, and he could only be free when he got on the ice. Nowadays being around people doesn’t make him so anxious, and controlling his anger off the ice is easier too. “I’m nothing special, just the World champion and Olympic gold medalist,” Yuri says with a shrug and Alina bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, I totally understand why Beka likes you so much. I really hope you can maintain your relationship now when he moves back to Canada.” Yuri feels his expression going blank, and at that moment the music in the club changes and Otabek gets on the stage behind the turntables. Yuri barely registers how he greets the crowd, a static buzzing filling his ears instead. Canada? What was Alina talking about? They didn’t have any plans for summer - they haven’t had enough time to talk about summer yet - but Otabek would have told him if he was moving all the way to Canada. Or at least Yuri thinks Otabek would tell him if he was going to move to another country. They had both been busy lately, and the last few months hadn’t been easy for Otabek, which had resulted in them not being able to spend a lot of time together. But Yuri had thought they could now take a couple weeks off and enjoy each other’s presence like they used to. Apparently that wasn’t something Otabek was planning to do. “Oh,” Yuri manages to force out, the piercing cold he feels in his lungs making it almost impossible to speak. He clears his throat and puts on an expression he learned to hide behind years ago: calm and distant with emotionless eyes. “He has talked to you guys about it?” “Yeah,” Alina sighs and takes a sip of her drink. “I mean, I got the impression he properly decided on it just last week or something? But he bought the plane tickets so I guess he has made up his mind. About time, if you ask me, considering he’s leaving in ten days.” Yuri gives her a small smile, and Alina doesn’t know him well enough to notice he’s faking it. “I guess,” Yuri says quietly, the booming music hiding his words. Alina isn’t really concentrating on their conversation, her eyes on Otabek who’s standing on the stage. Otabek’s eyes scan the audience and visit the balcony, looking for familiar faces. Yuri drops his gaze, his heart beating painfully in his hollow chest. Yuri stares blankly at the floor for the rest of Otabek’s set, the exciting high from alcohol transforming into a painful dullness. Yuri forces a smile on his face when Otabek gets back, but he doesn’t say anything. Throughout the years Yuri has learned to hide his true emotions behind a hard, emotionless facade, and he knows it’s better for everyone if he pretends for the rest of the night. He’s itching to talk to Otabek, to ask him what is going on, but at the same time he doesn’t want to have that conversation in the club surrounded by Otabek’s friends. “Do you want another drink?” Otabek’s familiar voice and nonchalant tone shoots right through Yuri like an arrow. He looks up and meets a dark pair of eyes he knows way too well; eyes that always calm him down and make him feel like home. Realizing that hurts. “I think I need some fresh air,” Yuri says, way too quickly for it to sound natural. Otabek doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Yuri is already on his feet and climbing down the staircase, disappearing into the crowd of people. The club has filled up in the past hour, and Yuri keeps bumping into people. His muttered apologies are half-hearted, and no one really pays attention to him when he gets to the club’s small outdoor area reserved for smoking, slamming the door shut behind himself. He leans against a metallic railing, warm from the day’s heat and sunshine, and tries to stop his hands from shaking. Yuri doesn’t smoke, has never even tried, but he almost asks for a cigarette from two guys standing in the corner of the outdoor area. In the end he says nothing, because he can’t remember how to ask something like that in Kazakh. Instead he takes out his phone and manages to type out a short text message. To: JJ So Beka’s moving there? From: JJ Yeah! We’re gonna be rink mates again! It’s been too long since we’ve been training together! You could come here too! :D To: JJ I’ll skip, thanks. From: JJ Why? :( I thought you had warmed up to me after all these years :( To: JJ So when did Beka tell you he’d move there? From: JJ When he started planning on it I think after the GPF Wait He has told you, right? To: JJ Not yet From: JJ What Wait Yuri Shit I thought he had talked to you about it Damn I’m so sorry To: JJ Fuck off, JJ Yuri fights against the urge to throw his phone on the nearest wall. It’s not JJ’s fault he’s hurt and disappointed, but it feels good to put the blame on someone. Yuri’s mind is hazy, the realization that Otabek had been planning on this since December making anger bubble inside him. The thing is that Yuri actually thinks a total change of scenery, new training team and some skilled rinkmates to practice with is the best decision Otabek could make right now. Time difference between them would be a couple hours more, but they could deal with it together - they’ve been through worse. Yuri knows that if Otabek decides to do something, no one can stop him; and Yuri wouldn’t even try to stop Otabek if he suddenly told him he’s going to move to Canada to get better at skating. And apparently he had told everyone he’s going to do just that - everyone, except Yuri. “Yura?” Yuri is too deep in his thoughts to hear Otabek coming outside, and the sudden call of his name painfully pulls him back to reality. He turns to look at Otabek, and the worry in his dark eyes makes Yuri see red. “Were you ever gonna tell me?” The question makes Otabek frown, and Yuri’s sharp tone forces him to take half a step backwards. Yuri sees how he tries to hide the underlying fear in his gaze, and it only makes his anger take over him (because it hurts, it hurts so much, but Yuri isn’t going to admit that). “Wha-?” “About Canada.” A heavy silence falls between them. Yuri manages to hide his emotions behind an expressionless face, his cold eyes watching Otabek trying to come up with something to say. Yuri is impressed at how collected Otabek looks, his gaze locked with Yuri’s cold eyes. “Who told you?” “That doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me?” A hint of betrayal slips into Yuri’s words, and it hurts him to see how Otabek flinches at it. “I can explain.” “Then fucking explain.” Otabek lets out a wavering sigh, his eyes dropping to the ground. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, so he closes it. He runs a hand through his hair, fingertips shaking, helplessly trying to find the right words. Yuri can see he’s struggling, and it makes him feel sick. “I was afraid,” Otabek finally says after a silence that feels like an eternity. “Of what? Me?” Yuri’s tone sounds like he’s insulted, but actually he’s scared Otabek will confirm his accusations. He’s terrified that the person who helped him to lower his guard and find the softness hiding in his core would be afraid of him. “Of what would happen to us,” Otabek’s voice is barely a whisper, and when Yuri’s mind finally processes the words, his body can’t tame the flame of anger. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Otabek still can’t look directly at Yuri. His breathing gets faster, panic and fear making their way into his eyes. Yuri feels like punching something and he looks away, trying to keep his voice from cracking when he repeats his question. “We wouldn’t see each other as often. Even if I wanted to be with you, I- the distance between Toronto and Saint Petersburg is long. Longer than what we have now.” “Did you really think I wouldn’t support you?” Otabek finally looks at Yuri, and the ice and thunder in Yuri’s emerald eyes cut deeper than his words. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.” “Saying ‘hey, I think I’m gonna move to Canada’ isn’t that fucking hard. I mean, you told your friends and JJ, how am I any different?” The expression on Otabek’s face looks wounded, and Yuri needs to cross his arms over his chest so he doesn’t accidentally reach over and wipe the pain away with his fingertips. Seeing Otabek like that hurts, it hurts more than the fact that he had told everyone except Yuri about his plans; it hurts because Yuri knows it’s his fault Otabek looks like he’s crumbling. “You are different. If you left, it… it would kill me.” “You are the one leaving, not me,” Yuri says even though he knows that’s not what Otabek means. It’s not about being physically close, because that’s something they’re used to: between practicing in their own home rinks and travelling around the globe for different competitions they’re lucky if they get to share twelve hours together every now and then. They’ve accepted it, because they know there will always be more competitions, more post-banquet nights in fancy hotel rooms, more intensive training camps held by Yakov. “You know what I mean.” Yuri knows better than anyone what Otabek means, because he exists to his parents only after winning a competition; because years ago in Japan he skated a flawless program, yet Viktor still didn’t choose him; because before meeting Otabek he had always been everyone’s second choice, and that had made it impossible for him to trust anyone. Yuri knows exactly what Otabek means, and that only makes him more furious. “Is that really how much you trust me?” Yuri’s voice cracks at the end of the sentence, and he hates himself for it. He clears his throat but doesn’t look away, trying to find the answer to his question from Otabek’s sad eyes. He refuses to believe Otabek would think he’d choose someone else over him just because the distance between them got longer. He can’t believe it because he has told Otabek so, so many times how much he means to him. The way Otabek looks away and lets out a small, shuddering breath forces Yuri to believe it. “Yuri, I-” “You know what, I don’t wanna hear it,” Yuri spits out, swallowing tears. His chest feels uncomfortably tight and his lungs are heavy, and he’s barely holding himself together. It feels like the sharp pieces of his heart were cutting him open, tearing his carefully crafted facade apart. “I don’t even want to be here.” “We should lea-” “I don’t want to see your face anymore. I- I can’t take it.” It being the tears gathered in the corners of Otabek’s eyes, and how looking at him makes Yuri still feel like he’s coming home; it being all the unopened text messages JJ has sent him in the last five minutes, full of honest apologies; it being his mind scolding him for being stupid and trusting someone, because when faced with a choice, no one would ever pick Yuri. Yuri kind of wants to kick the walls and yell at Otabek, maybe punch him hard once or twice - it’s not like he wouldn’t deserve it. In the back of his mind Yuri knows they need to talk this through, because if he leaves now his thoughts will eat him alive, Otabek will never get a chance to explain himself and things won’t get back to normal. So Yuri turns around, pretends he doesn’t hear Otabek calling his name when he leaves the club, and doesn’t even bother going back for his things before he gets on the next plane heading to Saint Petersburg.

----

Summer is rough. Getting used to the time difference between Almaty and Toronto takes a toll on Otabek, lack of sleep making the first weeks of practice in a new rink tougher than he had anticipated. However, it’s not the first time he has moved to the other side of the world, and luckily he’s still familiar with Toronto: falling back into the routine he followed years ago comes back to him quickly without him really noticing. He’s not going to admit it, but JJ’s presence makes settling in easier. It’s refreshing to share the rink with someone on the same skill level, and JJ’s brutal honesty helps him get better at things he’s lacking in his skating. The atmosphere in their practices is always warm, and even though Mr and Mrs Leroy are demanding with their coaching, they immediately accepted Otabek into their skating family. Otabek practices hard, because he feels the need to show major improvement in the upcoming season. He knows that on top of perfecting the technical elements in his programs, he needs to focus on how to express himself better on the ice. So Otabek practices hard, occupying his mind with skating: his programs, technique, proper execution, the pieces of music he’s skating to. Because whenever his concentration falters, everything reminds him of Yuri. When someone with blonde hair jogs past him during his daily morning run, the tempo of his heart picks up until his chest hurts and he has to stop because he can’t breathe; sometimes he forgets his music on shuffle, and when a song he used to listen to with Yuri comes up he paralyzes, the masochist side of him welcoming the memories that flood in; every now and then even getting on the ice is painful because the rink is supposed to feel like home, and whenever Otabek thinks about home, his thoughts still go straight to Yuri. He’s happy he still has music and DJ-ing, and whenever his thoughts drive him insane or things don’t go as planned in the rink, he puts on his headphones and works on new pieces. A friend of his who he met online years ago plays in different clubs around Toronto, and sometimes Otabek joins him. He’s not playing as often as he used to, but when he does, it clears his mind and helps him focus on the goals he has set for himself. Often when he goes out to play with his friend, someone in the club tries to talk to him or flirt with him, but he dodges the attempts. JJ always tells him to loosen up and bring someone home with him for a night or two, and every time JJ says that, Otabek gives him a bored stare as a reply. Letting someone close absolutely terrifies him - even if it was just for one night and only in the physical sense of the word. Otabek doesn’t admit it, but the only person he has ever been interested in is Yuri. JJ tried to ask him about Yuri when he first came to Canada, but Otabek ignored him coldly - not because he doesn’t want to talk about what happened, but because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. JJ hasn’t brought the topic up since. They barely even talk about other skaters, focusing on perfecting their own programs for the upcoming season, until the assignments for Grand Prix come in. The first event for both of them will be Skate Canada, and after that JJ will skate in China and Otabek will travel to Russia. “Wanna watch Skate America together?” JJ asks, not bothering to really read through who will skate in the same events as him. It’s just how JJ is: it doesn’t matter who he’s against, because he’s confident he won’t lose to them. “Sure,” Otabek mumbles. He watches JJ take off his blade guards and get on the ice, rolling his shoulders. They’re about to start their early morning practice, and Nathalie Leroy is sitting at the rinkside, a steaming hot cup of coffee next to her on the bench. “You think you’ll be okay?” JJ says, his tone almost soft, and Otabek frowns. He takes another look on the assignments, sighs and gives an annoyed look to his rinkmate. “I’ll be fine.” It’s not like he hasn’t seen Yuri’s face since they parted ways, because for some reason Yuri hasn’t blocked him on any social media platforms. Otabek doesn’t leave likes or comments under Yuri’s posts anymore, but he can’t make himself unfollow Yuri either. Overall Yuri updates his social media less frequently than he used to, and nowadays his Instagram pictures are strictly about skating and nothing else: video clips of him practicing his jumps (sometimes succeeding, sometimes falling and cursing loudly), gym selfies, shots promoting his official sponsors. Yuri even made it to gossip sites’ headlines when he caught a scandal a couple of months back (actually it’s not really a scandal, or even a big deal, but Yuri’s more than passionate fans like to go overboard). During the last days of June Yuri uploaded a picture with Viktor and Yuuri on Instagram, the caption stating he’s getting some extra training in Japan. Later that week someone spotted him in a local gay bar, and people went crazy. Otabek read every single stupid article written about the topic, but Yuri himself never commented on the subject. He didn’t update his social media for a week, and when he eventually did post something, his Angels were so delighted to hear from him again they didn’t ask questions. Everything summed up just made Otabek feel like Yuri didn’t just cut him off his life, but also decided to hide his real self from everyone. So seeing Yuri’s name on JJ’s laptop screen during the live stream of Skate America doesn’t make Otabek feel anything special. He’s doing just fine until the second warm-up group of men gets on the ice and the skaters are introduced to the audience. When it’s his turn, Yuri waves to his fans, but his expression stays serious. He has his hair tied up, and the gaze of his sharp eyes seems more piercing than ever before. “He looks a bit sick,” JJ says after a moment of silence, and Otabek agrees. Yuri looks pale compared to the other competitors, and although he has always been skinny, he looks almost fragile in his simple, full-black costume. “He’s probably just nervous,” Otabek says, trying to sound like he doesn’t care. JJ looks at him, and for once he says nothing. After a short moment he simply shrugs and turns his attention back to the laptop screen. Otabek lets out a silent, relieved sigh JJ doesn’t hear. Yuri skates third from the second group, and even though his music choice - an extract from Moonlight Sonata’s 3rd movement - is accompanied with powerful, fast-paced skating, he finishes his program with just a few small mistakes. Even JJ and Otabek are surprised at how well Yuri skates, maintaining his natural fragility without falling behind the intense music. Yuri looks exhausted when he gets off the ice, and he doesn’t smile even when he gets a high score. The audience is loud, but Otabek thinks he hears Yuri say “I can do better than that” before the stream leaves the Kiss and Cry and focuses on the next skater getting ready for his performance in the rink. When the men’s short program ends, Otabek pretends to be alright. He goes to practice with JJ and manages to land a difficult combination he’s been working on for a while. JJ invites him over for a game night, but Otabek declines the offer, telling JJ he’s been sleeping quite badly lately and wants to catch up on sleep. He’s not really lying, because he hasn’t slept well in months. Every night when Otabek goes to bed and closes his eyes, his thoughts of Yuri get louder than during the day. Otabek can’t push Yuri out of his head without distractions like skating and music, so he ends up hitting the nearby 24/7 gym at midnight or working on his laptop until he passes out an hour before his alarm goes off. Deep down Otabek knows he needs help, but a part of him is terrified of letting go. He still loves Yuri - has loved him unconditionally for years - and he’s painfully aware of how much he hurt him. Otabek made poor decisions and let his fears control his actions, and he thinks that’s why he deserves to suffer now. Yuri wins Skate America after skating a nearly-perfect free program on Schindler’s List, and Otabek is reminded of the moment he told Yuri he’d fit the song perfectly. They were laying in Yuri’s bed in Saint Petersburg, and Yuri laughed at the suggestion and said his skating isn’t yet emotional enough for the song. Yuri’s eyes look empty when he forces on a smile during the medal ceremony, and that’s when Otabek decides to talk to him when they’ll inevitably meet in Rostelecom Cup.

----

Otabek never gets a chance to act on his grand plan of pulling Yuri aside and saying something to him during Rostelecom Cup. In Skate Canada Otabek skated well enough to get on the podium, yet he feels the need to show everyone that changing coaching teams really helped him improve. Skating against the best Russian skaters on their home ice would be a terrifying experience to anyone, and on top of all that Otabek’s heart shatters once more when he sees Yuri in the first official practice. When Yuri gets on the ice, his black practice wear makes him look paler than he actually is. There are dark circles under his eyes but he nails his elements without showing any signs of exhaustion. Lilia seems to be lecturing him when he returns to the rinkside after a run-through of his short program, and Yuri has a look on his face that tells Otabek he’s doing everything but listening to her. Otabek catches himself thinking how he’s happy that Yuri hasn’t changed despite everything, when in reality he has changed. The changes in him are small and delicate, like how he avoids eye-contact with his coaches, or looks incredibly angry with himself when his quad turns into a triple near the end of the practice. There are shadows on his face, and because Otabek knows Yuri lives and breathes skating - it’s something that has saved him from self-destruction so many times - it hurts to watch how Yuri’s tense shoulders relax when he steps out of the rink and pulls on a black hoodie. In the end Yuri finishes second in Rostelecom, right behind a younger rinkmate of his. Otabek manages to climb to the fourth place, and although he’s not completely satisfied with his own performance, he qualifies for the final and that makes him determined. When Otabek returns to Canada he tries not to think about how he didn’t see Yuri smile once during the competition.

----

JJ makes it to the Grand Prix final as well, and Otabek is thoroughly relieved he won’t have to face Yuri alone (or, face the fact he simply doesn’t seem to exist to Yuri anymore). The competition is tough - something both of them already knew from the qualification rounds - and when JJ finishes third in the short program behind Yuri and his young rinkmate, he’s so pissed off Otabek ends up spending the night in his hotel room watching extremely boring romantic comedies with him. JJ doesn’t like romantic comedies, but whenever he has to sort through his thoughts, he puts on romantic comedies. Otabek thinks it’s a weird habit, but he’s not courageous enough to question a pissed off JJ. Also, it seems the terrible movies somehow channel his energy and make him skate better the next day (or make his opponents skate worse, depending on how you want to look at it). So Otabek isn’t surprised when Yuri’s young rinkmate has a disastrous free skate. He skates first, and maybe the pressure of the Grand Prix final gets to him on the worst possible moment. After all, he’s only sixteen, it’s his senior debut season, and he’s skating against Olympic medalists and World champions. Otabek feels bad for the boy, even when JJ reminds him that now they both have a chance to get on the podium. Otabek skates second from the group, and it takes his full concentration to shake off the negative energy the young Russian left in the rink. However, when his music starts, all he can hear are the notes, and his body follows the melody easily. The audience and the presence of the judges disappear, and for four minutes it’s just Otabek, the ice and the piece of music he has heard hundreds of times. He gets a season’s best and easily takes the bronze. JJ does his everything on the ice, but when Yuri finishes his program, it’s clear JJ has no chances for the gold. Otabek tries to cheer him up by telling him that it’s only the beginning of the season, and they have at least two major competitions ahead of them. By the time the medal ceremony starts JJ is back to his confident, joyful self. Otabek is already standing on the podium when he realizes who’s going to share it with him. It’s part of the etiquette that the medalists greet each other in good nature and pose together for press photos. Otabek is familiar with the procedure, but he didn’t think he’d stand a chance to even get on the podium, so he didn’t worry about it. He feels like someone had pushed him in icy water without a warning: his pulse picks up, his vision gets blurry, and for a second it’s hard to breathe. Then JJ is there, standing in front of him, and pulling him into a protocol-required hug. “Everything alright?” he asks, voice low and full of worry. Otabek can’t get anything out of his mouth, so he just nods and forces a small smile on his face. It’s obvious from the look JJ gives him that Otabek isn’t fooling him, but there’s nothing either of them can do about it. When they announce his name and Yuri gets on the ice, he looks captivating. He has let his hair down, and it looks like a halo around him under the bright spotlights. He flashes a short smile to the audience, and the sight of it tugs at Otabek’s heart, a painful hollowness spreading from his chest and taking over him when Yuri gets closer to the podium. Otabek can’t help holding his breath when Yuri hugs him. A familiar smell of hairspray, citrus-scented shampoo and Yuri wraps around him, and Otabek has to blink a couple of times to keep himself from crying. He wants to say something, but his body and mind won’t cooperate quickly enough. Yuri refuses to meet his eyes when they part, and Otabek notices how his hands shake when he goes over to JJ. They stand in thousands of photographs, uneasy smiles on their lips and tension in their shoulders; they’re close enough to touch, but they won’t. In reality Yuri is right there, but to Otabek he’s further away than he’s ever been. When Otabek gets back to his hotel room, he cries for the first time in months.

----

Two weeks before European Championships Yuri updates his Instagram with a video of him cleanly landing a triple axel - quad toe - triple toe combination. Otabek is in the middle of practice when the video goes up, yet he still doesn’t miss it. “Holy fuck!” JJ screeches from the other side of the rink, totally messing up Otabek’s rhythm. His quad turns into a double, and he barely saves the landing. He’s lucky JJ is busy staring at his phone and doesn’t see him struggling. JJ signals him closer, and when Otabek gets to the other end of the rink, JJ shoves his phone into Otabek’s hand without saying anything. The video is short, shot in the main rink of Sports Champions ice hall. The expression on Yuri’s face is concentrated as he leaps into the axel, then straight into the quad and triple toeloops, his aerial rotations as quick as always. On the same second he finishes the combination the video becomes shaky as Mila curses loudly in Russian from behind the camera, not able to contain her excitement. Otabek re-watches the video at least five times, and when Yuri lands the jump for the sixth time on JJ’s phone screen, JJ yanks the device away. “We’re doomed,” he says, closing the app. “We’re fucked if he lands that in Euros and then in Worlds. There’s like, no point in even trying to beat him anymore.” “He’s been working on that combination for a long time now,” Otabek reveals. JJ blinks, his brows shooting up in question. “He has?” “Over a year, I think. He used to have problems with getting all the rotations in,” Otabek says, his voice getting gradually quieter towards the end of his sentence. The memory of Yuri practicing the jump over and over again for hours until Otabek interfered and physically dragged him out of the rink burns in Otabek’s mind. The fact that it happened more than once hurts, mostly because Otabek suspects no one has really looked after Yuri in the past months (probably not even Yuri himself). Yuri lands the combination in Euros, and Otabek wins Four Continents (and when he and JJ stand on the podium next to each other, instead of being disappointed in himself for falling on his very last jump, JJ is beaming with pride).

----

When Otabek saw Yuri Plisetsky skate for the first time, he immediately understood what people meant when they told him figure skating isn’t just a sport, but also an art form. Even after years of watching Yuri on the ice, his skating still draws Otabek in and mesmerizes him: how he can look fragile during a choreographic sequence and then show immense strength right after, landing a combination of jumps flawlessly. Yuri never forgets to pay attention to the details in his programs, movement travelling through his body all the way to his fingertips. He makes every jump, every spin and every element requiring flexibility look effortless, and the way he moves on the ice is hypnotizing. Yet his eyes are always burning with determination: full of need to do better, to exceed everyone’s expectations and show his worth. For the first time in what feels like centuries Otabek meets those eyes during the men’s free program in World Championships. He’s supposed to get on the ice after Yuri, tune out the cheers and applause, and skate just like he did in Four Continents (and Otabek will do that, he knows he can do that - he’s proven himself many times this season, and he’s finally fully confident in himself, even if he has to skate right after the reigning World champion. The fight for the podium positions is ruthless, the top six almost tied in points after the short program, and although it makes the competition more exciting, Otabek would rather skate without all the added pressure.) Yuri spares a small smile to the audience that has gone wild, picking up a tiny tiger plushie on his way out of the rink. He straightens his back and instead of looking for his coach’s comforting, proud gaze, Yuri finds Otabek’s eyes. Otabek braces himself for ice-cold daggers and anger that spreads around his neck and chokes him, but what he sees is just emptiness swimming in specks of emerald. The moment lasts less than a second, Yuri looking away quickly. The usual toughness has found its way back in his eyes when he leaves the Kiss and Cry but stays behind, hiding in the shadows of the stands and watching Otabek skate a great program. Otabek is too focused on his own performance to notice him, and when he leaves the ice, Yuri has already disappeared. Otabek is exhausted when he finally gets off the ice, the weight of the season settling on his shoulders while he waits for his points. He hasn’t yet fully comprehended that it’s the World Championships and that he just finished his last official skate of the season, because when he thinks back on the months of training and competitions, he only seems to remember the sleepless nights, the hollowness of his chest, and how sorrow seeps into Yuri’s features every time he thinks no one is looking. It hurts to watch how Yuri struggles in front of everyone through the medal ceremony and gala practice, yet no one seems to notice: he’s present but still isn’t, somehow. The press ask for pictures and he gives them a smile that won’t reach his eyes, and he learns the ridiculously easy group number choreography without a single complaint (in fact, when Otabek really thinks about it, he’s not sure when was the last time he actually heard Yuri say anything). Otabek knows Yuri speaks through skating, conveys his feelings through it even when he hides behind a mask or a role, because that’s what he learned to do as a child. Yuri skates his exhibition number on Ciara’s cover of Paint It, Black, which is a very Yuri-like piece. It follows the same melancholic theme as his competition programs with graceful spins and beautifully flowing step sequences, but it’s full of raw emotions the others lack: anger, boldness, pain. Otabek has seen Yuri skate the program many times in the past season, and it never ceases to shake him to the core. Maybe because something in the program hits a bit too close to home (aggression, ice-cold eyes and Yuri’s serious expression that doesn’t change even after the music has stopped). Otabek won’t admit it, just like he won’t say aloud how much he still enjoys watching Yuri skate despite it filling his chest with longing that hurts more than anything else he has ever experienced. Otabek wants to think he has improved tremendously in a year, that he’s become stronger mentally and physically. He tries to convince himself that all the new personal bests, all the medals and podium positions mean he’s actually better off without Yuri. The thought ties a knot in his stomach and narrows his windpipe just enough to make him struggle, yet when they line up in front of a cheering audience at the end of the gala and out of the blue Yuri comes to stand next to him, Otabek feels like drowning instead of breathing freely. He freezes, terrified that his inner panic can be seen all over his face. “Can we talk after this?” The hall is loud, the audience screaming around them, and for a brief moment Otabek is sure he imagined Yuri talking to him. He glances at his side, and although Yuri isn’t looking at him, the question is written in his tense shoulders and empty eyes fixed on the faceless crowd. Otabek lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Yeah.”

--

The sun is already setting when Otabek gets out of the ice hall’s back door, his leather jacket hardly keeping him warm against the chilly spring breeze. Yuri is already waiting for him, leaning against a safety railing surrounding the arena. He has pulled a black hoodie over his gala outfit, and the decorative glitter on the outer corners of his eyes glimmer in the orange light. It’s suddenly very, very silent around them. Otabek grew up in a home that was never quiet, and he learned to hate silences like this. He has at least a million things he wants to say, but nothing comes out; he can’t decide where he should start. “I’m sorry I just left back then.” “I don’t think you should be the one apologizing here.” Yuri lets out a short sigh that has a hint of amusement in it. “I totally agree. But let’s be real, me fleeing out of the fucking country was just a little bit overdramatic. I should’ve let you explain yourself.” “I think I would’ve reacted the exact same way,” Otabek says with a shrug. He sees from the corner of his eye how Yuri turns to look at him, but he’s too afraid to meet the questioning gaze. “I mean, what I did was just… a total dick move. Honestly, you had all the reasons to be angry.” “I was angry. I am angry.” “I don’t blame you for that,” Otabek says, his voice quieter than he wants. He gathers the remains of his courage and meets Yuri’s eyes, welcoming the familiarity of them. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about my plans of moving to Canada, and I’m sorry you had to find out about it like you did. There’s really no excuses for what I did, and I’m sorry I hurt you.” For some reason Otabek feels more exhausted than he did after his free skate last night. His heart is hammering painfully against his chest, and the slight, almost sad frown on Yuri’s face makes him feel worse. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Yuri’s voice is now quiet too, but there are no sharp edges in his words. “I was afraid you’d leave me,” Otabek says. It’s what he told Yuri months ago when he asked the same question for the first time, and it’s the truth. “But I did leave you.” “Yeah, you did.” It’s Yuri who looks away first, biting the inside of his lip. He doesn’t say anything for a long time and Otabek doesn’t want to pressure him, not even when he draws in a shuddering breath and wipes a lone tear on the sleeve of his hoodie, visibly annoyed with himself. “You know, I said I was angry, but most of the time I wasn’t sure was I angry at you or at myself for thinking I actually meant something to someone. I was really hurt because I felt like I wasn’t enough, just like I wasn’t enough for Viktor and my parents. And I kinda pushed everyone away and put my walls up, until…” Otabek watches determination setting in Yuri’s eyes as he fights against tears, his hands curled into fists. He looks more pissed off than anything else, muttering a frustrated curse under his breath, and Otabek wants to pull him against his chest and tell him it’s okay to cry. But he doesn’t do that because he knows Yuri hates showing weakness in front of anyone, and especially in front of him. “Until, after GPF, grandpa was diagnosed with cancer. It’s not super aggressive or anything, but he’s not that young anymore.” “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Otabek says, worry in his tone. He takes a step closer, his fingertips brushing against the back of Yuri’s hand before he stops himself. He knows Yuri notices the brief touch when a sad, almost tired smile visits his lips. He keeps his eyes forward, careful not to look at Otabek, and when he pulls up the hood of his shirt and slips his hands into its pockets to shield himself from the wind (from the cold, from Otabek’s sharp eyes, from the world), he looks a lot younger than he is. “He’s doing better for now, but he’s not getting any younger for sure. When he got the diagnosis, I was ready to skip Euros and move to Moscow to be with him, but he told me he’d be happier to see me skate, because that makes me happy. So I stayed in Saint Petersburg and did nothing but skate and think about you.” Suddenly it feels like they’re 15 and 18 again, standing on a terrace in Park Guell, still learning how to trust someone. They’re as broken, as lost and misunderstood like they were when they met, fighting through each day. Otabek wants to think some things have changed since then - that now they at least have each other - but the truth is they’ve been both fraying at the edges because of each other. Back then Yuri learned to trust a person who saw past his carefully crafted facades and considered them equal, and Otabek learned to trust a person who wanted to learn more about him and was undeterred by his stoic appearance. The bond they built between them was something unique, standing on a foundation of unconditional, mutual love, and losing that made it hard for both of them to hold themselves together. “Why me?” Otabek asks, hiding his surprise under an amused tone. “What grandpa said made me realize how important it is to have happiness in your life. And I just kept thinking how fucking happy I was because of you, how my life got so much more enjoyable after I met you. And then I threw all that away over something so trivial, letting my anger drive me like I was a damn teenager.” Yuri shakes his head in disbelief, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m an idiot.” “We both are,” Otabek states, although he wants to add he doesn’t think it’s stupid of Yuri to fall back into behavior he used so he’d survive his teenage years filled with high expectations and belittlement. It’s definitely not stupid of Yuri to act like a child every now and then, because he never got a proper childhood. “Touché.” “Yuri, I…,” Otabek starts, trying to hide the waver in his voice. Yuri’s name feels foreign on his tongue, like he was saying it for the very first time, and even though Yuri notices this, he lets Otabek gather himself without saying anything. Their eyes meet, and instead of freezing cold emptiness, Otabek sees warmth in the midst of green and blue. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I was an asshole, but I hope you can accept my apology some day. And if… if it’s okay with you, I’d like to start over.” “What are you planning to do? Save me heroically from my crazy fans or come to Yakov’s summer camp and stalk me?” Otabek hears rather than sees the laughter in Yuri’s voice, it making a smirk climb on his lips. The amusement in Yuri’s features makes Otabek’s chest tighten, and it’s a pleasant feeling. It feels comforting and familiar, like coming home after a long day. “Maybe I’ll invite you to skate with me in my home rink this summer. As a friend, not as a bitter silver medalist who swears to take your title next year,” Otabek says with a joking tone, watching how challenge sparks in Yuri’s eyes. He’s only half-serious, but he can’t deny how excited he gets from the look Yuri gives to him: excited for summer, excited for the next season, excited for them. He offers his hand to Yuri who ignores it, hugging Otabek instead. It’s sudden, and Otabek’s body reacts before his mind does: he wraps his arms tightly around Yuri, remembering all the quick, icy and awkward hugs they’ve shared during medal ceremonies in the past months. He welcomes the scent of citrus shampoo and pulls Yuri closer when he hides his tears into Otabek’s leather jacket. “You can take it. If I can just be with you, I’ll be happy.”

------

The pieces of music mentioned in this story: Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, 3rd Movement Theme from Schindler's List and Yulia Lipnitskaya's beautiful program to it that 100% inspired me Paint It, Black by Ciara

[jenanigans1207]

Of Hands and Hips [Victuri]

   Hi. Since the Ice Adolescence trailer is dropping, I couldn’t resist writing this fic. So here you guys go, the Victuri Soul Mark AU that nobody asked me for!

--x--x--x--x 

Yuri sat next to Yuko on the benches just outside the rink, his skates half laced up on his feet. In front of them was the rink TV, airing an interview with his idol, Viktor Nikiforov, who had just won the gold medal in the winter Olympics. Yuri had been in the middle of donning his skates, preparing to go out on the ice and practice his most recent routine when he’d seen Viktor’s face on TV and gotten distracted. Yuko had all but tackled him as she dove onto the bench next to him, her hand gripping his forearm tightly as they stared, transfixed, at the screen. Her grip was almost painful but Yuri barely even registered it, his undivided attention on Viktor.

    “Viktor Nikiforov, the youngest gold medalist in history, how do you feel?” The interviewer asked, pressing the microphone closer to Viktor’s mouth so his answer could be heard.

    Viktor smiled his infamous smile, causing the crowd to erupt into cheers around him. Yuri could feel his own heartbeat triple at the sight. It was the same smile he had in all the posters that donned Yuri’s wall. It was the same smile Yuri was used to looking at— used to looking up to. His heart soared in his chest. “I feel incredible!”

    People were coming in from all sides to congratulate him, gripping his hand, patting him on the back and whispering in his ear. Yuri tried not to imagine what it would be like to be one of those people— tried not to think about how much he would give to be able to meet Viktor in person. Viktor smiled politely the entire time, always turning his attention back to the interviewer. In between congratulations, the interviewer managed to squeeze in a few more questions and Viktor answered them thoroughly. Yuri watched, enraptured, the entire time, his breath held.

    After the very last question had been answered, the interviewer reached out to shake Viktor’s hand. Viktor raised his hand to meet him in the middle, giving the camera a good look at the black soul mark that covered the entirety of his right palm. It had been rumored that he had one for years, but he’d done a good job of keeping it hidden by constantly wearing gloves so nobody was ever certain if it were true. It seemed the thrill of winning gold has caused him to go temporarily lax, something Yuri could understand. With a sudden gasp, the interviewer grasped Viktor’s wrist, pulling his hand up to look at it.

    “A soul mark! The rumors are true!” He flipped Viktor’s hand so it was facing the camera, ignoring the blush that tainted Viktor’s cheeks. It was the first time Yuri could ever recall seeing Viktor look anything other than perfectly composed— and he had seen every single interview Viktor had ever done. The blush somehow suited him even more than his infamous smile and Yuri had to fight to not reach a hand towards the screen. He wished he could have a picture of Viktor looking exactly like that— wide eyes, pink cheeks and parted lips— to add to his wall. “Who’s the lucky person?”

    It took a moment for Viktor to regain his composure, but when he did, the smile rose back to his lips. Yuri wondered how it came to him so easily, how he could possibly be so self-assured all the time. But then again, he was Viktor Nikiforov— young as he may be, he was already a world champion and the heartthrob of the entire population. It was probably easy to be confident when he constantly had people dropping at his feet and bending over backwards just to spend even a fleeting moment with him.

    “Nobody, yet.” Viktor said, throwing a wink at the camera for good effect.

    The breath Yuri had unintentionally been holding whooshed out of him in a rush. He turned his head to Yuko only to find her beaming back at him, her eyes as wide as saucers. The interview continued on but Yuri wasn’t paying attention anymore. Yuko jumped up from her seat, gripping both of his hands in hers and yanking him up off the bench, completely ignoring his untied laces. Before she even said anything, Yuri could tell by her grin that she was thinking the same thing he was, even if it was a ridiculous thought.

    “Can you believe it? Viktor hasn’t found his soulmate yet! That means it could still be anyone! It could even be you!” She cried, pulling him through the stumbling steps of an awkward dance. “Yuri! You could be Viktor’s soulmate!”

    Yuri tried not to take her words to heart, tried not to let his hopes skyrocket. Just because he, too, had a soul mark— something that was relatively rare, as it were— didn’t mean anything. They were talking about Viktor Nikiforov, living legend. There was absolutely no way Yuri would ever meet him, let alone be his soulmate. The idea was beyond absurd. And yet, as Yuko let go of his hands, Yuri couldn’t stop his hand from drifting to his own soul mark, situated just above his left hip.

—

    The rays of light stream lazily into Yuri’s room, illuminating the room in a soft haze that makes everything feel magical. Yuri blinks against the light, letting his eyes focus on the man in bed next to him. Viktor looks peaceful in his sleep, silver hair splayed out around him like a halo on the pillow. Yuri still isn’t used to this— isn’t used to waking up in the mornings to a literal angel beside him, isn’t used to the way his heart swells in response to seeing Viktor first thing. There’s a comfort in the way Viktor’s chest rises and falls softly next to him and in the warmth that spreads across the small bed and envelops Yuri. He would happily stay in bed with Viktor all day, curled into his chest, head tucked under his chin. He can’t imagine a more perfect day.

    But then, the remnants of the memory that had come to him in his dreams cling to the corners of his mind, bringing him down from his high. He glances at Viktor’s right hand, the soul mark like dark ink coating his palm. It’s stark against Viktor’s pale skin and Yuri’s white sheets, making him come crashing back to reality. His mornings with Viktor seemed too good to be true because they were. The truth of the matter, the one that Yuri did his best to deny at all times, was that Viktor likely belonged to someone else. They had never touched soul marks— Yuri had never even told Viktor that he had one— but it didn’t matter. He was Viktor Nikiforov, five time world champion. He was miles, lightyears, galaxies out of Yuri’s league and there was no chance that their soul marks would match. Yuri had considered testing it, just to put himself out of his misery but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand the pain. He knew it would force him to finally give Viktor up and he wasn’t ready to do that. So he chose to keep his own mark hidden, chose to keep the illusion going longer, to hold on, foolishly, to that secret hope.

With a slight sigh, Yuri slides out of bed, careful not to wake Viktor. He feels Viktor stir and watches as he reaches a hand to Yuri’s now vacated side of the bed, his heart constricting at the sight. More than anything he wants to crawl back into the warmth and to ignore the world around them, but he doesn’t. Instead, he heads to his closet, drawing out a shirt for the day. Yuri’s silver medal hangs on the corner of the full length mirror next to his closet and it catches his eye as it glints in the early morning light. He reaches out to it, carefully tracing his fingers around the edges and glancing back at Viktor in the mirror. His heart feels heavy in his chest as he glances between the two, realizing that Viktor would be taken from him any day now and he would never get to provide him with the gold medal he desired.

In a futile attempt to stem the sad thoughts that were overwhelming him, Yuri yanks his shirt over his head, tossing it into his closet. He turns to the bed, reaching for his new shirt that he had deposited on the edge, only to come face to face with an awake— albeit sleepy— Viktor. Viktor is beautiful at all times of the day, but Yuri loves him the most in the morning when his edges seem to be blurring with the sunrise, making him look ethereal. There’s something about how soft he looks when only half awake that Yuri finds irresistible.  

“Good morning,” Yuri says casually, trying to keep any sadness from leaking into his voice.

Viktor smiles sleepily in response, reaching up to rub at his tired eyes. “Mornin’”

A part of Yuri wants to reach out and brush the stray strands of bangs out of Viktor’s face, but the rest of him fights against the desire. He wants to indulge himself as much as he can, knowing that someday it will end, but he doesn’t want to willingly break his own heart. Instead, he settles for smiling down at Viktor, “How did you sleep?”

Viktor doesn’t immediately answer and, just as Yuri is about to ask him if something is wrong, he realizes why. Viktor’s gaze isn’t focused on Yuri’s face, instead he is looking intently at Yuri’s waist— more specifically, his left hip. Viktor starts to reach for him, for the soul mark that he’s just seeing for the first time, but Yuri scrambles backwards, snatching his shirt off the edge of the bed and hastily pulling it over his head. He can feel the questions and disappointment swirling together in Viktor’s gaze, but he tries to ignore them. He’s not ready to have his heart broken, not yet.

Surprisingly, Viktor doesn’t address the topic, and Yuri is able to let out a breath. Instead, in a somber voice, he says, “You ready to start training today? It’s finally time for us to work on our lifts.”

After the Grand Prix, Viktor and Yuri had agreed to skate a duet routine. Yuri wasn’t exactly sure who had brought it up or why he’d agreed— skating alongside Viktor was both his biggest dream and his biggest fear— but their competition was coming up soon and they had no time to waste. The training had gone well to date, Yuri felt significantly more comfortable around Viktor now than he had a year ago when they’d met. That was only reasonable, of course, but it still helped a lot. Plus, he absolutely wouldn’t complain about spending his day at his favorite place with his favorite person.

“I guess we can’t delay it any longer, huh?” Yuri strived to sound casual but he knew his voice was a little pinched.

Viktor sat up in bed, the covers falling off of his torso and pooling around his waist. In the past Yuri would’ve tried not to look at his bare torso, too embarrassed to get caught, but time changes everything. Yuri doesn’t nothing to hide his gaze as he glances down at Viktor’s chest, as he watches Viktor throw the covers off and climb out of bed in just a pair of sweatpants. He glances up at Viktor’s face as he stretches, able to read his train of thought through his eyes. Yuri steps away from the closet, keeping enough distance in between them that Viktor can’t “accidentally” brush along Yuri’s hip.

With a resigned sigh, Viktor dresses quickly, pulling a hoodie on last. He pulls the hood up as they head out the door, protein bars in hand in lieu of breakfast. The hood pushes Viktor’s hair into his eyes and he reaches up casually to run his fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. Yuri feels his heart skip a beat at the sight of Viktor, in his casual but still well fitting clothes, running his hand casually through his hair and brushing the hood back off. Typically in the mornings they would jog to the rink, keeping in perfect step with one another, but today was just one of those days where they took the walk leisurely, occasionally bumping shoulders as they looked at the scenery around them.

They didn’t speak as they finished their walk to the rink, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. In the past, Yuri would have panicked in the quiet, but he was comfortable with Viktor now and was able to thrive with just his presence. He had grown a lot since he’d met Viktor, turned into the kind of person he’d always wanted to be. He’d gained confidence and a comfort in his own skin that he used to think was impossible. He had vowed, long ago, to never let the lessons Viktor had taught him go to waste. If— when, he tried to remind himself, but his heart wasn’t having it— he lost Viktor, he wasn’t going to fall back in on himself the way he had after his horrible debut at the Grand Prix Finals.

Just like it had been for the last year, the rink was empty when they entered. It had gained a huge amount of popularity after word had spread that it was Viktor and Yuri’s home base, but Yuko still refused anyone entry if it was a time when they needed it. Yuri was beyond grateful to her for her care and support over the years and swore that he’d pay her back someday. She insisted seeing him happy was enough and the skyrocketed popularity was an added bonus, but someday he was still going to do something extra special for her.

“How do you want to start?” Yuri finally breaks the silence around them as they finish lacing up their skates. Viktor looks more tense than usual, his shoulders hunched as he bends forward to tug his laces tighter in a motion that is so practiced he could do it in his sleep. “Start with the lifts? Or work on the choreography first?”

He watches as Viktor sits up and straightens his spine, finally settling his gaze onto Yuri. There’s something in the back of his eyes— nothing unkind, but something Yuri isn’t used to seeing— that sends a chill down his spine. “I think we need to do lifts. We haven’t practiced them at all yet.”

Yuri is so caught up in his thoughts over Viktor’s expression that he nearly stumbles as he steps onto the ice. He feels briefly like he’s been transported back a year— back to when he overthought everything. Viktor reaches for him easily and automatically, gripping his shoulder to steady him as he struggles to get his feet underneath him. Yuri’s cheeks flame as he sways, gripping Viktor back to help steady himself.

“S-sorry,” Yuri murmurs, ducking his head.

Viktor pulls him close, a hand finding its way to his cheek and tilting his head up. “Yuri, I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

It’s not exactly a lie, but it’s not the full truth, either. Viktor knows there’s something Yuri isn’t telling him, he saw it stark against his skin earlier this morning. They both know what Viktor is referring to, but Yuri just pulls his head back and pushes away, gaining some distance between them. It was careless of him to have been shirtless in front of Viktor. He had been so careful for the last year to ensure that this sort of thing didn’t happen and he had gotten too comfortable.

In a desperate attempt to change the subject, Yuri insists they start working on their lifts. Viktor agrees, although hesitantly and Yuri rushes into it just to get their minds on something else. It isn’t until Viktor is reaching for him that he realizes exactly where his hand is required to go to properly do the lift. At the last moment Yuri turns, accidentally rolling himself out of Viktor’s grasp and tumbling to the ice. He hits it hard, right at Viktor’s feet. Frustrated and helpless, Yuri slams his hands into the ice. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. They had a competition to skate soon, this was not the time to lose Viktor.

“I’ll put my hand higher,” Viktor says softly, extending a hand down to Yuri. “If you’re that worried about it, I won’t touch it.”

Yuri looks up at Viktor, immediately feeling the tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He’ll never know what he did to be lucky enough to have Viktor in his life, to have Viktor caring for a looking after him. “Really?”

“If it’s that important to you,” Viktor agrees, hauling him to his feet.

A feeling of gratitude floods Yuri as he gets his feet back underneath him. He smiles gratefully at Viktor who, to his credit, does his best to smile back. Yuri knows it’s only a temporary fix and they’ll have to talk about it eventually but for the time being they can just focus on practicing. And that’s what they do. They practice lift after lift and Yuri falls a significant number of times but now it’s only because they’re getting their movements perfectly in sync, not because Yuri is dodging Viktor’s touch.

And then, on their final lift, it happens. Viktor is tiring out quickly, his stamina never being comparable to Yuri’s, and he’s struggling each time to lift Yuri as he’s supposed to. Still, he obliges when Yuri asks for one more. It goes well up until the midpoint and then, as he’s holding Yuri at the peak of the lift, hands bracketing just below his hips, the fatigue sets in and his grip slips. Yuri starts to drop through his hands but Viktor corrects it automatically, tightening his grip… right above Yuri’s hip bones. Yuri doesn’t even have a chance to panic before he feels a warm sensation under Viktor’s hand spreading out through the rest of his body.

He hears Viktor gasp underneath him as he sets him back on the ice, letting go immediately to look at his right hand. His eyes go wide as he raises them to meet Yuri’s gaze and Yuri can’t even believe what he’s seeing. In between the two of them, Viktor holds his hand, his usually black palm cycling through a series of colors. In disbelief, Yuri lifts the edge of his own T-shirt, exposing the handprint just above his left hip. It, too, cycles through color after color.

“Yuri…” Viktor breathes, immediately placing his hand back over Yuri’s exposed soul mark. “Yuri, you’re—”

The tears that had been in Yuri’s eyes before fall freely now, dripping down onto the ice. He watches the way Viktor’s hand lays over his soul mark, the way it’s a perfect match. He can feel the warmth associated with finding his soulmate spreading through every vein in his body.

“V-Viktor.” Yuri sobs, looking up into his face. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t have words to express that this is greater than every dream he’s ever had coming true. He would give up every gold medal in the world for this. He’d never skate again if it meant getting to wake up every morning to Viktor by his side. “We’re—”

Before he can finish his thought— not that he had any idea how he was planning on finishing it anyways— Viktor reaches up with his left hand and hooks his fingers under Yuri’s chin, pulling him forward until their lips collide in the middle. Fireworks go off inside of Yuri and he knows immediately that this is the best feeling he will ever experience in his entire life. Standing on the podium holding a gold medal up to the crowd could never even come close to touching this feeling.

As they pull apart, Yuri realizes that Viktor, too, is crying. His hand tightens around Yuri’s hip, pulling him until they’re flush together. “Yuri, we’re soulmates,” He finally breathes and the words barely even sound real. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Viktor, you know who you are, right?” Yuri says, hiccupping a laugh through his tears. “You’re the heartthrob of the entire world and you expected me to think that I would be your soulmate? Me?”

“Of course it’d be you, Yuri.” Viktor says, threading his fingers into Yuri’s hair and drawing their foreheads together. “It couldn’t possibly be anybody else. For the last year, I’ve been thinking my soul mark was a mistake because it was so clearly you that I was meant to spend the rest of my life with and you didn’t seem to have a mark of your own.”

Yuri could feel the heat rush to his cheeks and down his neck. “How can you say that?”

“I’ve told you before, my life had no purpose until I met you.” Viktor had always been one to lay his heart out openly and it never ceased to amaze Yuri. Still, it had never cut to Yuri’s heart quite as directly as it did now. He reached up and brushed his thumb across Viktor’s cheek, wiping away the tears. “And now my life has a purpose forever.”

As Yuri pulls Viktor down into another kiss to seal that promise, he can’t help but think about how surreal his life is. He went from idolizing Viktor to knowing him, to loving him and now he can say with absolute certainty that he gets to keep loving Viktor every day for the rest of his life. They pull apart a moment later, forced to go back to practicing but suddenly the pressure of the competition isn’t so strong. With Viktor— his soulmate— by his side, there’s no doubt that they’ll sweep the competition and every other obstacle life throws their way.

[winglesscrows]

Honest Imperfections Ch. 1

Yuri!!! on Ice I G I Yuuri/Victor I 836 words

Being in love with someone means being honest, even if the honesty isn't always what you want to hear.

(A/N: just a little warm-up exercise I did which turned out pretty nice)

Read on AO3 I Patreon I FF.net or under cut

Yuuri had looked at Viktor half his life. Looked and admired a person who had always seemed out of reach, unattainable and absolutely perfect. Yuuri had looked at Viktor skate so perfectly for all the world to see, had seen his eyes shimmer and laugh during interviews, and seen his beautiful smile all around him as he woke up and went to bed. Viktor was always there, so perfectly out of Yuuri’s reach. And though Yuuri never dared to hope for anything, just like thousands others, Yuuri wondered if he could ever become a person Viktor would choose. And at the time, Yuuri had wanted nothing more than for Viktor to smile at him like that.

Yuuri didn’t like to argue, but he had had his fair amount of fights with Viktor to know that it didn’t change anything between them. Perhaps it even made them stronger. It was a dumb argument anyway. Neither of them cared that much for a bag of nuts, but what really pissed Yuuri off was the way Viktor smiled at him. Smiled as he tried to calm Yuuri down and close the argument. Smiled like Yuuri was just some random person who didn’t care. Yuuri felt like he was looking at a poster as Viktor smiled down at him, but the way he cracked slightly as Yuuri snapped at him again was worth the argument. He hadn’t meant to hurt Viktor, he never did, but he’d rather Viktor get hurt than feel nothing at all. That meant that he cared. Maybe Yuuri should show him that he cared too.

Logically, Yuuri proposed not an hour later.

And the way Viktor smiled when they exchanged rings was a smile Yuuri had never seen before. He smiled like everything was finally right and the moon, sun and stars belonged to him. Yuuri wanted Viktor to feel like that forever.

The two of them had never been that good with words, always preferring to show their feelings through skating or dancing or other small touches of affection, but every now and then, words were needed. Sometimes the words were few: ‘I just want you to be you’, ‘stay by my side’, I’ll always be with you’ and sometimes, sometimes that wasn’t enough.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Yuuri whispered into the darkness of their hotel room. Their hands were intertwined and Yuuri could feel their rings touch as Viktor tensed for a moment. In the darkness, Yuuri couldn’t see Viktor’s face, yet he kept his eyes on him.

“When did I lie?” Viktor whispered back, and Yuuri noted the sincerity in his voice, because Viktor didn’t know. He had been smiling like that for so long that he just didn’t know. It hurt Yuuri more than he could say.

“Today,” Yuuri clarified, “Before we went to the Christmas market.”

“What did I say?” Viktor asked, probably going through the events of the day to figure out what had been said and done. Because Viktor didn’t doubt that Yuuri was right when he said he lied, even if he didn’t know. Because Yuuri wouldn’t lie to Viktor.

“It wasn’t what you said. It’s what you did.” Yuuri’s voice was soft. He didn’t blame Viktor for it. Sure, it had made him angry at the time, but rather than put the blame on Viktor, he could help him, make him feel so safe and happy that he wouldn’t have to hide behind that empty smile. At least not from Yuuri.

“What did I do?” Viktor squeezed his hand.

“You smiled.”

“Is that so bad?” Once again, Viktor was genuine.

“You weren’t happy.”

“Neither were you. I was trying to make you feel better.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Yuuri said again, because Viktor always did what he thought was best, always had the best intentions, even if it didn’t always work out, “I would rather fight.”

“I don’t like that,” Viktor whispered slowly, and Yuuri could feel Viktor averting his gaze. There were some insecurities deep in Viktor’s heart that Yuuri had yet to uncover, but he would get there. They would get there. And until they did, Yuuri would do everything in his power to make sure that Viktor knew just how important he was to Yuuri.

“You don’t have to like it,” Yuuri said sweetly, and kissed Viktor’s hand, “But we should be honest.”

There was a short silence, before Viktor moved a little closer to Yuuri and answered in a small voice: “I can’t promise.”

Yuuri kissed him again: “That’s okay,” he reassured him, “I’ll just remind you again, because I love you.”

The tension left Viktor as soon as Yuuri said those three magic words, “I love you too.”

The next time Yuuri hurt Viktor’s feeling, he didn’t smile. He cried, raised his voice and they fought until they were too exhausted to continue. And by the end, they loved each other just as much as they had done before. Maybe even more. Because this time, they were honest.

[someonexsomeone]

You Meet On a Show [Idol Edition] - Monsta X (Hyungwon)

Part four! I just realised I’m writing them out of order, but I’m basically just writing them as I get hit with inspiration.

NOTE: A.K.A making another comeback. Hyungwon this time! It’s not so much a show-show that you meet on, but more of meeting because of a show. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Warnings: fluff. modeling. confusing?

Word Count: 1590 (oh my god whoops)

You were having just a little bit of trouble wrapping your head around this. Even as you sat in the chair, wearing nothing but your underwear, people rushing around you doing your hair and makeup. Even as the outfits were perfectly hanging next to you without a wrinkle in sight. Even as the rest of the models walked around you. Even as the music pumped so loudly you could feel it in your bloodstream. It was just something you never expected to do. But, especially within in the last few years, your wildest dreams had come true. Getting more successful in your career, your lovinging group right by your side, and now you were going to be apart of Seoul Fashion Week. You couldn’t believe it - out of everyone they could have picked, they picked you? You weren’t even the visual of your group. Your manager was very quick to inform you that the man running the show this year had a young daughter, Yuri, absolutely adored you, and was the one to suggest you for the show. She was even there to greet you as you entered the building. She hadn’t left your side until very recently and you had to admit you missed her. She was basically the only thing calming your quaking nerves.

“You look absolutely beautiful!” the makeup artist said as she put the final touches on your face. You smiled brightly at her, which made her squeal. “You are going to do amazing. Let me help you get into this dress.” Once the dress was on, all hell broke loose. People were running, shoes lost, hair flying all over the place. The show was set to start in less than a minute, and the large monitor displayed the designer stepping out to present the show. Your hands were shaking so bad, your knees knocking together in a panicked rhythm. You were surprised you were still standing, especially with the huge heels wrapped around your calves. Maybe it was because you were matching your breath to your steps. Or maybe it was because you were admately staring down at the ground, making sure you didn’t roll your ankle.

It was probably the ladder. You only say so because your laser like focus caused you to completely miss the presence of the incredibly tall idol in front of you. In retrospect, it was almost impossible to miss him. He had an aura around him that drew people in, but also made them fear the power he had. He was a head taller than any male there, and almost taller than the models in deadly heels. He was simply standing there, watching intently as a woman shakily fastened his cuffs on. He looked just as surprised as you did when your eyes met, the disaster of colliding momentarily lost as your eyes met. Both held recognition, both held confusion.

What was he doing here?

“(Y/N)! You’re needed in places!” Your name being called pulled your out of the gaze. You bowed quickly, hoping for forgiveness for your clumsiness, before rushing out of sight. Hyungwon simply watched you walk away, his wrist still held out despite the woman already being done.

You killed it. You knew you did. Despite being completely nervous backstage, once the stage lights hit you, it was as if you were possessed. You exude confidence once the performance started, and you were positive you had your career to thank for that. Conditioning at its finest. When you walked off stage, Yuri was right there, throwing herself at you to give you a congratulatory hug. You were too busy cheering along with her to notice Hyungwon walk past, his eyes too focused on your interaction that he almost tripped over some wires on the ground. The fond smile didn’t drop until it was his turn to walk.

It took much longer than you thought to get out of hair and makeup. The extensions alone took more than 30 minutes to get out. By the time you were finished, back in your comfy jeans and sweater, the last runaway of the night was already underway. It was the longest by far, sporting more than 100 pieces that required the models to stand tall lest they trip over the crisscrossing fabric. You almost wanted to stay longer, watch the models and get a closer look at the beautiful designs, but your manager was trying to get you out of there before the show finished. After all, you had a long drive to make it to a filming tomorrow.

You swung your handbag over your shoulder, one foot already out the door before a small voice stopped you.

“(Y/N)!? (Y/N), where are you?!” Your eyes immediately found her in the crowd, nearly getting plowed over by staff and models alike. You paid your manager no mind as you immediately dropped everything, rushing over to her. In one quick motion, you scooped her up, moving to stand along a wall. “(Y/N)! I found you!”

“Yuri, what were you doing? You could have gotten hurt!”

“I need you to come with me! It’s an emergency.” All she had to do is bat her eyelashes at you and you were like putty in her hands. You couldn’t imagine saying no to her. You only had a second to send your manager a look before you were whisked off by the young girl. She held your hand tightly as she pulled you through crowds of people, not even bothering about the people she pulled you into. You barely had a moment to apologize before she was pulling on your hand again. Around about, left and right, you were so disoriented that you barely recognized the place. You only hoped that wherever Yuri was taking you would be for an actual emergency.

“Daddy! Daddy! I found her!” Up ahead there was a large group of people, all huddled together and whispering frantically. You recognized a few people - a designer, Yuri’s father, and the kind lady who did your makeup -  who were all moving around one man. One man you knew very well. Your cheeks burned when you saw him, your head instantly going down. “Here she is!”

“Yuri! Is this where you went?! I have people looking all over for you!” Her father pulled her off the ground and into his arms, hugging her tightly before settling her on his hip. You couldn’t help but awe at the sight.

“But I found her!” All eyes were on you as Yuri pointed, your cheeks once again heating up. Everyone around you were dressed in clothes made for this event, glitz and glam, while you stood in your comfy clothes. No make up, hair a mess. You were wearing flip flops! Everyone’s eyes made you feel that much heavier.

“And who are you?” You instantly bowed to Yuri’s father, perfectly bending at the waist to show upmost respect.

“My name is (Y/N). I am apart of A.K.A, and a model in an earlier show.” He nodded slowly, glancing once at Yuri, who was looking at you with star filled eyes.

“Ah. So you’re the singer my daughter talks so highly of.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, instead staying bend down. “Will she do, Kim?” The designer looked you up and down once, before the group erupted once again.

“She will have to do. Hyungwon, go to your place. She will be there as soon as I can.” Once again your arm was grabbed, pulling you in all different directions. The makeup artist looked apologetic as she had to rough handle you, but the show was going to start soon, and they had less than 20 minutes to do hair and makeup that should take an hour. They wasn’t any time for pleasantries. While getting smacked in the face with foundation, the designer explained that the original model accidently broke her foot on the way over here, and since it was the last show, most models had already gone home. It was a miracle that you were there, and with minimum tailoring, you were in the showstopping piece. It was a modern take on a princess gown, and Hyungwon is your prince. The whole show was dedicated to his niece, who loved fairy tales. You couldn’t help but awe, which made him blush. That is, until he practically pushed you into Hyungwon, your que to walk only seconds away.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I always seem to be tripping today.” You stood once again, about to step away from him, but he was quick to wrap your hand around his arm.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there to catch you if it happens again.” Your eyes met. The music was blasting. His eyes were practically glittering in the backstage lighting. There was so much you wanted to say. You admired his music, you admired his personality. But it seemed the only thing to come out of your mouth was, “wow”.

“I-I mean, my name is (Y/N). We haven’t been properly introduced yet-”

“I know who you are. I am a big fan of your music. I’m Hyungwon. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” You cheeks flushed once again, but before you could say a word, a staff member was directed you two forwards.

You snuck a peek at him halfway through the show, only to meet his eyes once again. You looked beautiful, he whispered. If he hadn’t been holding your hand, you were sure you would have collapsed.

Shownu | Wonho | Minhyuk | Kihyun | Hyungwon | Jooheon | I.M.

[themusesofmars]

Fanfiction Posted - Yuri!!! on Ice

Good evening! Hope everyone is enjoying the season. The @otayuriwriterscollective​ is hosting a winter event for our favorite pairing from Yuri!!! on Ice, and we couldn’t resist joining in! Prompt: “Baby, it’s cold outside!” Title: “Keep Me Warm” Rating: General Synopsis: Yuri was excited to meet up with his friend, Otabek, over the holidays and do some sightseeing around New York City. But he was unprepared for how cold it would be in the city in winter...or for how Otabek would keep him warm. Read on FFNET Read at AO3

Yuri stepped out of the hotel building and shivered as the icy winter air whipped through his hair and tossed the blond strands wildly around his face. He quickly pulled his hood over his head and zipped up his jacket. He’d been aware of the low temperature today, but he had plans with Otabek, so not even the cold could chase him back inside.

Otabek had texted him just a few minutes ago to say he was already outside and would buy them some hot chocolate from a pastry truck on the street. The two of them had flown to New York City to hang out and do some sightseeing for the holidays. Just because Yuri was used to the cold didn’t mean he liked it, and he was grateful when he saw Otabek at the curb just down the block, tucking his wallet into his back pocket before reaching for two steaming styrofoam cups. Their eyes met from the short distance and Yuri couldn’t fight back a smile. He tucked his chin into his collar to hide it and briefly waved a hand in greeting before shoving it into his pocket to keep it from being chapped by the wind.

They had come to the United States on different flights, so this was actually the first time they’d seen each other since arriving in New York. But as excited as Yuri felt, Otabek did not appear to share his enthusiasm. The taller man was walking towards him with a deep frown marring his handsome face.

When Otabek reached him, Yuri didn’t have to try anymore to hide a smile, because it had faded away. He had been anxious to see his friend again for the first time after the Grand Prix Finals skating competition, during which Yuri had won the gold medal, and had wondered how they would greet each other: with a shake of hands, a hug? Now all Yuri could think to offer was a flat, “Hey.” He kept his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Yuri,” Otabek said sternly, looking him over. “Where is your coat? Aren’t you cold? You must be; I can see your breath.”

Yuri was taken aback, but come to think of it, Otabek was snugly bundled up in a black winter coat and had on a scarf and gloves, to boot.

“I d-d-didn’t bring one with m-m-me,” Yuri was forced to admit through chattering teeth. “Hadn’t expected it to be this c-cold.”

It was then he realized the expression on Otabek’s face wasn’t one of disappointment or annoyance or boredom; he was concerned.

“Are you serious?” Otabek pushed one of the cups at him immediately. “Here. Drink this. It will help a little.”

Yuri accepted the drink with both hands, grateful for the heat that seeped from the cup to toast his palms.

“You can’t stay out here all day in that thin little jacket. Come on,” Otabek said, waving for Yuri to follow him. “There are plenty of shops on this street; let’s find you a real coat.”

“Uh…Otabek,” Yuri said, scampering to keep up, “we have a lot of things to do this weekend, you know? I mean, I didn’t budget for buying clothes.”

“This is more important than souvenirs,” Otabek said without hesitation. They walked to the end of the block when he spotted a men’s clothing store across the street. They waited on the corner until the crosswalk light lit up, then Otabek threw an arm out to his side to block Yuri from bolting right into the street. Instead Otabek checked both directions for traffic, then to the younger man’s surprise he took Yuri’s hand and walked him safely across the street. Yuri was so surprised he didn’t immediately return the pressure of Otabek’s fingers around his, but as soon as they were safely out of the street and standing once more on the sidewalk, Otabek let go.

Otabek approached the shop and pulled open the front door, holding it for Yuri. Yuri looked up at the sign overhead. It read, “Giorgio’s Classic Menswear.”

“Otabek, I don’t know,” Yuri said hesitantly. “This place looks expensive.”

“Go in,” Otabek ordered, so Yuri did.

Inside, the shop was filled with men’s designer suits, fashionable tuxedos, silk ties, and cashmere sweaters. This was definitely not the type of place Yuri typically shopped. He wasn’t broke by any means, but when he bought clothes, it was because he liked the print or the design, not because it had a fancy name brand. “Otabek, let’s get out of here,” Yuri pleaded quietly as his friend followed him into the store and let the door close behind them. “I’m sure we can find an outlet mall or something cheaper than this.”

“You need a coat, so I’m buying you a coat,” Otabek gently argued. “It’ll be your Christmas present, okay? So don’t ask me to get you something cheap.”

Yuri felt his face grow warm. “Oh… Okay.”

“May I help you?” asked a voice.

The two young men turned to see a very well-dressed man approaching. His nametag read, “Richard.”

Otabek placed a hand on Yuri’s shoulder. “My friend needs a coat,” he explained.

“Certainly. Right this way, gentlemen.”

Otabek removed his hand from Yuri’s shoulder to follow after the clerk, and Yuri almost shivered again. How was he able to feel Otabek’s warmth through his friend’s gloves? And why did he feel so cold each time Otabek let go?

“Doing some sightseeing today?” Richard asked as they trailed after him deeper into the store.

“Yes,” Otabek answered.

“Then you’ll definitely want something a bit warmer,” the man agreed, glancing over his shoulder at Yuri in his black and leopard-print jacket. “Here we are,” he announced, leading them to a corner with several racks of fancy coats and designer jackets. “Everything with a red tag is part of our after-Christmas sale; everything else is part of our new collection. Just let me know if you need any assistance.”

Otabek nodded as the man left them and said, “Thanks.”

“Good.” Yuri sounded relieved. “Let me find something on sale.”

He started towards the racks, but Otabek caught his arm. “Yuri,” he argued, “just…find something you like. Okay?”

Yuri looked up but the expression Otabek wore made his face feel even hotter. “Can you hold my drink? And my jacket?”

“Of course.” Otabek accepted the hot chocolate and held out his arm for Yuri to drape his thin jacket over it, then claimed a lounge chair next to a tie display and waited for Yuri to try on a few things, admiring him from his seat all the while.

Yuri felt a little guilty, but he tried not to look at the price tags dangling from the wrists of the coats as he tried them on. He considered a green one that matched the shamrock hue of his eyes, but it was uncomfortably long and seemed to squeeze his legs together when he walked over to a mirror to have a look at himself. He put it back and tried on a blue one that reminded him of the Russian flag, but the sleeves were too stiff and the wool fabric was itchy. He finally reached for a black one that fit him perfectly, and it looked stylish, too. He turned to Otabek with a questioning look. Would his friend think it looked good on him? “What do you think of this one?” he asked nervously.

“It’s perfect.” Otabek stood up and moved closer. His voice was very soft as he said, “It looks like it was made for you, Yuri.”

Yuri felt his heart race at the compliment. He lifted his arm to look at the price attached to the sleeve. He didn’t see any red on the tag. “Otabek, I don’t think this is on sale—” he started to say. But Otabek distracted him by pushing Yuri’s hot chocolate cup back into his hand. Then, wordlessly, Otabek ripped the tag off of the coat and crumpled it in his fist, preventing Yuri from seeing it.

Yuri stared at him with an open mouth as Otabek walked away. “Let’s get you some gloves,” his friend called back to him. “And a scarf.”

Yuri was still stunned and trailed after Otabek in stupor. He let the other man choose a pair of black gloves and a black, white, and gray plaid scarf for him, then shuffled after Otabek to the cash register.

“Did you gentlemen find what you need?” Richard asked from behind the counter. Another man behind him was folding shirts and adding them to a wall display. Not a single one cost fewer than three-hundred American dollars.

Otabek nodded, setting the gloves and scarf down so they could be rung up. He also set the coat tag down and slid it across the counter toward the clerk. “He’ll wear it.”

“Very good.” Richard began ringing up their purchases, then said, “All our toboggan hats are on sale for $9.99 today…”

Otabek turned to his friend. “Yuri, go pick out a hat,” he instructed, and Yuri went. When he returned, Otabek ripped the tag from the hat and settled it over his head, carefully brushing strands of blond hair out of Yuri’s eyes. “Let’s go,” he said, apparently having paid without letting Yuri hear exactly how much.

Back outside on the street, Yuri held Otabek’s drink while his friend tucked his jacket into his backpack for him. “Otabek, I didn’t mean for you to buy all this.”

“How could I let you freeze to death on the street? What kind of friend would I be then?”

Yuri couldn’t argue with that.

They were finally free to explore the city. There was more to do in New York than they could ever accomplish in just a few days, so they made sure to hit the highlights and skipped the souvenir shops. Yuri had intended to buy some tchotchkes while on vacation, but Otabek’s generous sacrifice had made him have a change of heart. “That crap’s all made in China, anyway,” he just shrugged as they passed by yet another tourist trap.

They caught a double-decker tour bus in Midtown Manhattan and drove through Times Square before visiting the Rockefeller Center to tour Radio City Music Hall. Afterwards the pair enjoyed lunch at a buffet-style restaurant along Fifth Avenue called “Bread and Butter.” Next they took a stroll in scenic Madison Square Park, and from there it was only a ten-minute walk to reach the Empire State Building. Next they headed to the harbor and caught a ferry to see Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. They ended their day with a luxury cruise back to Pier 17 and dined on a delicious meal served on the ship.

Otabek posed for selfies with Yuri as his excitable companion went a little camera crazy and spammed his Instagram account all day long with more than a hundred photos of the two of them storming the city. By the time the sun was setting, they were both tired out. But Yuri wasn’t quite willing to part with Otabek’s company. Even if his friend was reserved and didn’t say much, it made Yuri happy just being together. Otabek didn’t have to say a word for Yuri to know he was enjoying their day, too; he could tell by the sparkle in Otabek’s chocolaty caramel eyes.

As the sun sank below the city skyline, the temperature dropped even further. The coat, hat, scarf, and gloves Otabek had bought him were warm, but Yuri was still colder than was comfortable as they walked slowly back in the direction of their hotel.

“Hey—why don’t we get some dessert?” Yuri asked when their building became visible in the distance.

Otabek’s eyes widened in surprise. “Aren’t you full?”

“…No,” Yuri said, looking away embarrassedly. “There’s an ice cream shop on the corner. Let’s go!”

“Yuri, it’s nineteen degrees out here,” Otabek reminded him.

“Oh. Oh, yeah.”

“How about a coffee, instead?”

Yuri smiled.

They killed thirty minutes in a quaint little café, listening to Christmas-inspired jazz music and warming themselves with piping hot coffee while they engaged in pleasant conversation. Too soon, it was time to leave.

Outside again, it felt even colder.

“Hey—look at that!” Yuri said suddenly, pointing at a souvenir shop. “We didn’t buy anything frivolous all day. Can I get you something, to remember our trip by?”

“Yuri, I won’t ever forget it,” Otabek assured him. His gaze was so intense, Yuri looked away.

“Yeah, but…you got me such a nice Christmas gift, and I didn’t get you anything. Let me find you something fun to take home to Kazakhstan and show your friends!” This time Yuri was the one to reach for Otabek’s hand, and Otabek reluctantly let himself be dragged into the gift shop.

One miniature Statue of Liberty and “I <3 New York” T-shirt later, the couple was back out in the cold.

“Hey, Otabek,” Yuri said, pointing out yet another store. “Want to check that out?”

Otabek’s eyes followed the direction his friend’s finger was pointing and he frowned. “Yuri, that’s another café. Is something going on?”

In spite of how cold it was, Yuri felt heat rising to his face. “No!” he said, a little too quickly. “I’m just cold.”

“Then we should get back to the hotel where it’s warm.”

Yuri gave a little shrug. “I guess so,” he murmured weakly.

They stood there, staring at each other in silence. Then, all of a sudden, Otabek’s arms were around Yuri, drawing him close.

Yuri gasped in surprise.

“You don’t have to keep running into cafés to buy coffee just to warm up,” Otabek said. Yuri couldn’t see his face, but he could hear the smile in the tone of his voice. “My hugs are warm. And they’re free.”

Yuri definitely felt warm now. After a moment his arms slowly lifted, winding around Otabek’s waist.

Otabek continued, “And our date doesn’t have to end, just because we get back to our hotel.”

Yuri’s heart was pounding. Otabek’s embrace was equally firm and gentle, just as he had imagined it would be. There was no hesitation, only warmth and the quiet strength Otabek always exuded. In spite of being in a huge, foreign city, Yuri had never felt so safe. He licked his chapped lips. “Is this…a date?” he dared ask.

“I didn’t come to New York to see the sights, Yuri,” Otabek breathed into his ear, “I came to see you.”

His eyes shining, Yuri hugged Otabek harder. “Then…let’s get back to the hotel, before we freeze to death!”

Otabek finally released his hold on the other man. He gave him a gentle look and reached for his hand, leading the way. This time he didn’t let go.