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missmarquin · 5 years ago

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Love Like a Spell

Yuri might be a master of brewing love potions, but he's hopeless when it comes to his own romance.

Read here on AO3 for better formatting! And if you’d like, follow me here on Twitter! #####

Love spells were dumb, but they were his most popular seller, so Yuri persisted.

He added a pinch of salt to the concoction-- just because he was a salty ass-- and then another of ground rose petals. There was a spark, followed by a puff of smoke, and the liquid morphed from a dark red into a light pink. Yuri’s nose twitched at the sweet smell, but conceded it a job well done.

Yuri spooned the mixture into a bottle, corked it and then labeled it with the name of his client, Mila. Yuri frowned. It wasn’t that his magic didn’t work, but that she kept using it on men, when she should be using it on women instead. Specifically one woman.

She brushed off his words though, always telling him that she paid for his power in a bottle, not relationship advice, because what did he know? She wasn’t wrong; what did he know? Nothing really, because Yuri was a man who willfully lived in pitiful loneliness, selling love to others because he couldn’t bear to settle down on his own.

Yuri told himself that it was because there weren’t any good options.

And then Otabek Altin walked through his shop door, and Yuri is reminded that that isn’t remotely the case. There was an incredibly good option, dark haired and handsome. With wide shoulders that Yuri itched to run his hands along; a slim waist that he wanted to press against a table.

Otabek Altin, the ultimate distraction and definitely not interested.

“Ho there, Yura,” Otabek said, shifting the box he held across his hip slightly. “I have your delivery.” Like plenty of witches around, Yuri didn’t have the time to procure his own ingredients, so he ordered them instead. Otabek was a regular fixture in his shop with deliveries of once, sometimes twice a day. It had only been chance that they had become good friends over the years.

“Counter,” Yuri said, waving toward a work table. It was covered in random half-finished spells and knick-knacks. “Just scoot everything to the side.”

Otabek did so, dropping the box onto the old hardwood. “I couldn’t find everything on your work order, but I’ll trek deeper tomorrow. Still, I managed to find your wormroot, so you shouldn’t be too much out of luck.”

Yuri hummed at that, before setting Mila’s potion onto the shelf for pick-up. Otabek leaned against the worktable, arms crossed over his chest. “The red haired woman again?”

“She really should just listen to me,” Yuri said with a sigh. “Sara comes in here for a spell every week. I’m tired of having to pretend to brush Mila’s hair back, just to pluck a few strands for it.”

“Has Sara considered just… telling the woman that she loves her?” Otabek asked.

Yuri sighed again, rubbing at his brow tiredly. “I never said that she listened to me either. Honestly, they are a hopeless pair.”

Otabek was quiet for a long moment, before he said, “Hopeless or not, love is a tricky thing. Sometimes its easier to wish and hope, than to take action.”

Yuri cracked open an eye to look at him, surprised by his subtle words of wisdom. Otabek was a quiet kind of man, who didn’t often share bits of himself with others. Yuri was one of the rare few, and he’d even gained a nickname from the man. Yura.

“What about you, Otabek?” Yuri asked, lips twisting into a devilish smile. “Speaking from experience?”

“No,” Otabek said. “My approach is just different.”

“How so?”

Otabek rubbed at his chin. “I prefer to watch from afar, and I’m content with that.”

“That sounds boring,” Yuri said, but what he really meant, was that it sounded sad. Not that Yuri liked love or romance, or anything. He just made money off of it.

He definitely didn’t like the soft, sappy look that had fallen across Otabek’s face, when he reminisced about whomever. Probably some busty woman with legs up to here. It was a phrase that Yuri had often heard and never quite grasped.

“Help me put this stuff away,” Yuri finally said, changing the conversation.

Because Yuri was a tall and gangly mess of limbs, Otabek was shorter by a good half a foot. Not that Yuri cared. Otabek radiated more masculine energy than even the blacksmith who lived around the corner. Yuri leaned over him slightly, setting jars on bookshelves high over Otabek’s head.

Yuri actually relished these small little moments, because they were the closest that he would ever allow himself within Otabek’s orbit. The subtle brushing of their shoulders, the gentle nudges to the side. Sometimes Yuri would linger, and sometimes he wouldn’t.

Otabek was always indifferent, but that eased it somehow.

It was an effortless friendship with casual closeness, and even if Yuri’s heart sometimes beat a little faster, or sometimes it ached; it worked for them.

It worked for them, and Yuri would tell himself that it was enough.

The truth about love spells is that they only work if the witch who brewed them had known love.

The stronger that love, the stronger the spell. The reason for it was simple: When a witch made a spell, it was made with a part of themselves. This was why spells could be costly.

Spells didn’t always have the desired effect, and love spells were the trickiest of all. Sara and Mila were a frustrating pair, because Mila focused her efforts on men that she would never love. Sara was patient, may the Gods bless her, and she felt it was worth the wait. Even if she still bought a weekly spell to help things along.

Honestly, lovesick people made the worst kind of clients. They exhausted him.

Yuri’s love spells were wide and well-known for their potency when they worked, and that was something he took great pride in. When younger, he’d infused his work with his love for his grandfather, and now--

Well, it wasn’t a secret that he loved Otabek, not to himself at least. The least he could do was nurture that love, even if quietly, and let it help others. It was a useful outlet, because hotheads like Yuri didn’t like to waste their days away, thinking of low voices and hair so soft, that it felt like brushed silk.

Yuri still maintained that he wasn’t the romantic sort. You could be in love and not stoop to the level of his silvery-haired neighbor, and his pig-faced lover. Or husband. Really, whatever they were. Soft and sappy words, and stolen kisses, and quiet dances under the full moon when they thought no one was looking.

He definitely wasn’t jealous, not one bit.

Yuri was about to stopper a spell, when Otabek walked into his shop unexpectedly. There wasn’t a box across his hip for delivery, and he didn’t have a basket of his sister’s food. Yuri liked Maya, even if she insisted that he was too skinny, constantly worried that he’d lost himself in the day’s work.

It annoyed him more that she wasn’t always wrong.

Yuri paused and blinked at him. “Beka,” he said, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Yura,” he said, but then he hesitated.

That caused Yuri to narrow his eyes slightly. Otabek wasn’t the kind of man to hesitate, or even look unsure of himself, but he stood there in the entrance to his small shop, shifting back and forth on his feet like he was about to bolt and--

Well, it was weird.

“Is everything alright?” Yuri asked him, lips tugged into a small little frown.

“I wanted to ask…” Otabek thumbed along his jaw, something that he did when he was a little bit nervous. “The Solstice is a week from now,” he finally said.

“That isn’t news. Your point?”

“Are you celebrating with anyone?” Otabek asked quietly.

“Who would I celebrate with? I usually do it alone and that suits me just fine.” Yuri paused. “Did Maya send you here? What, does she want me to come--”

“I want to celebrate with you.”

Yuri blinked, head cocked to the side. “What?” Then he realized how annoyed and indelicate that sounded, because it was Otabek. His best and only friend; they do things with each other often. The idea of celebrating the Solstice together wasn’t such an unusual idea.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that,” Yuri said, when Otabek looked like he was about bolt right back out the front door. “You just caught me at a weird time.” He waved the bottle in his hand around.

“Another love spell?”

“Ugh, what else?” He paused and then, “I’m wearing myself out on them. I should limit the amount that I do per week.”

Otabek looked at him for a long moment. “You want people to find their happiness. It’s admirable.”

“It’s dumb,” Yuri said. “I shouldn’t care. I should just want to make money.”

“But you do care, Yura,” Otabek said. “And that’s what makes you the best of the best.”

Yuri rubbed at his neck tiredly. “Look, let me cork this up, and we’ll go to your sister’s for dinner, and well make plans for the weekend, okay?”

Otabek didn’t usually smile, but there was the tiniest quirk of his lips. Good. “Alright.”

Yuri returned the look and moved to stand from his stool. He grabbed the cork and began to seal the bottle, but as he was moving, he tripped over his own feet. Yuri stumbled and lost grip of the bottle which tipped over, splattering the potion all over Otabek and--

All over Otabek.

“Shit,” Yuri murmured. “Shit, shit shit.”

There were tons of types of love spells, but this particular brew was in his opinion, the nastiest kind. It sparked interest between the first person the target saw, and Yuri charged people literally a year’s worth of wages to even think about making it.

He couldn’t let Otabek fall victim to such a dumb and terrible thing. He cursed, knocked things out of the way, tried to think of a counter spell. He was working on borrowed time. It would only take a few moments for it to kick in, and even then, the spell could be reversed. It was just considerably harder.

“Yura,” Otabek said, letting out a long breath as he shook liquid off of his hand. His clothing was drenched, he should really get out of those--

“Otabek, you need to strip. Get out of those clothes right now.” Otabek didn’t move though, which caused Yuri to snap his gaze back to him. “Beka, I’m serious. That’s a nasty love spell. Out of your clothing, I don’t care what I see. A few more minutes and you’ll be all over me, and I think that you’d hate that and--”

“Yura,” Otabek said again, this time quieter. “I don’t think it’ll work on me.”

Yuri’s mouth snapped shut as he paused in his desperate search. When he looked back to Otabek, he still stood there, shaking his hands out and mildly annoyed that he was wet, but otherwise unaffected.

Which made no sense. Otabek should be all doe-eyed and dopey faced, wanting to please him, wanting to give Yuri his every whim. But he wasn’t, which could only mean--

Yuri swallowed thickly at the thought that maybe his feelings weren’t so one-sided after all. The only reason that this kind of love spell wouldn’t work, was if the target was already in love with the caster.

Otabek’s mother was a witch, so he would likely know that.

Yuri stood straight. “Right,” he said. “Okay, um, a shirt then. We should still get you out of those wet clothes, even though I’m not sure that I have anything that will fit you--”

“Yura,” Otabek said, reaching out to grasp Yuri’s wrist gently.

“Beka, I didn’t--”

“When we spoke a few weeks back, it made me do some thinking. I was content with watching, but I’ve always wanted more than that,” Otabek said. “Do you understand?”

“I’m not dumb Beka,” Yuri said, “and I get why it’s not--” He huffed angrily, waving between them. “Look, are you going to say it or what?”

Otabek hesitated. “Do you want me to?”

“Do I--?” Yuri let out a sort of strangled, flabbergasted sound. “The only reason that my spells work so well, is because I’ve been teetering on this edge of something that I’ve never quite grasped, except that I know exactly what it is, and Gods above Otabek, just--”

Otabek kissed him. Yuri sort of fell against him, grabbing his shoulders to steady himself, opened his mouth to slot their lips at a better angle. And shit, if this is was kissing was like, then Yuri had been the dumb one avoiding it, because there wasn’t anything quite like the feeling of Otabek pressed against him, hand holding his chin gently, guiding him through it.

When they broke apart, Yuri breathed out a curse and Otabek laughed.

“The spell won’t work because--”

“Beka, I fucking swear--”

“--I already love you, Yura.”

Otabek smiled at him, a sort of insufferable, sappy, long-wanted and long-awaited thing, and Yuri hated how quickly he pulled the man back to him. Yuri leaned over him, hands on Otabek’s cheeks as he kissed him again, shorter and sweeter this time.

“You’re dumb,” Yuri said, when he pulled back. “How long?”

“Does it matter?” Otabek asked him. He smelled like rose petals and turmeric, and other things that Yuri had thrown into the spell. “And like you’re one to talk.”

“No, this isn’t about me,” Yuri said.

Otabek scoffed. “Yuri, you’ve been throwing your love into those spells for years. Everyone knows it, even my sister. And when she notices things, that’s when you know it’s bad.”

Yuri sighed. “So, the Summer Solstice,” he said, derailing the conversation from anything but that.

“I want to spend it with you,” Otabek said.

“You do know that the stories of witches dancing naked under the moon are vastly exaggerated, right?”

“Hm, yes.” Otbake smoothed his hand down Yuri’s sleeve. “Does that change anything?”

“No.” Yuri didn’t even have to think about the word, it just immediately came. Effortless and easy, just like their friendship. Just like their love.

“I mean it, you know,” Otabek said. “When I say that I love you.”

Yuri finally looked at his face, Otabek’s dark eyes wide and open. Shit, he looked good-- he always looked good-- but this was different. Yuri loved the way that he was baring himself unabashedly. Yuri wasn’t good at that, he probably wouldn’t ever be.

“Did you come here to tell me that?”

“No,” Otabek said. “I came here to ask you on a date. There’s usually an order to things like this.”

Yuri reached up to thread his fingers through Otabek’s hair. It was soft but coarse, curling slightly as it hung over his forehead.

“It goes without saying, that I love you too. I think that’s obvious.”

“It always has been, Yura,” Otabek said. “But that’s why your spells have always been the best.”

#otabek and yuri #otayuri #Otabek Altin #Yuri on ice #yuri on ice fanfiction #Yuri Plisetsky #Otabek/yuri #fanfiction #alternate universe

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stammiviktor · 6 years ago

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Requesting DVD Commentary for Tether, from "He'll fight" to "He's all I have". I'm interested in this whole scene really, but I tried to narrow it down a little. :D

[this is for the DVD commentary fanfic ask game here. Send me an excerpt from any of my stories if you want to hear my thought process behind it!]

Thank you Cait! I have a lot to say about this story, so the majority of this is going under a read more lol. I hope no one minds if I include a few lines before your selection starts for context, also.

(Link to the story here!)

“I’ll be twenty-six. And that’s only if he makes it that long.”

Yuuri is on eggshells. He fidgets. “Your grandfather seems really stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, his heart apparently isn’t.”

“He’ll fight—”

“So what?” He turns his head, trying to bore a hole through Yuuri now. “Ten years, twelve years, what’s the difference? He’s almost eighty.”

Yuuri tries his best to make his voice sound gentle. “Ten years is a long time. A decade…”

“Fuck, Katsudon, that’s not the point.” His eyes are red and wild and growing more so by the second. “Ten years, and where will I be? Still training. Still competing. You know I hadn’t seen him since Rostelecom?”

One of the greatest things about this show, in my opinion, is all of the different types of love it showcases. Yes, Yuuri and Viktor’s love story is at the center, but we have a whole supporting cast of characters that love our main characters and each other, as sons or brothers or grandchildren or adopted sons-in-laws, and are loved in return. Yuri loves his grandfather. This is very clear from the first few episodes, when Nikolai is Yuri’s inspiration for Agape, and Nikolai so clearly loves Yuri - I mean, Yuri mentions pork cutlet bowls one time in passing and Nikolai goes home that day and invents katsudon pirozhki.

But I think it’s also glaringly clear from the show that Nikolai is Yuri’s only support network. His mother is obviously not in the picture, to say nothing of his father. And they haven’t lived in the same city since Yuri was, what, ten or eleven? And how often can Yuri possibly see him, for a few weeks during the off season? Once a year at Rostelecom?

Figure skating is Yuri’s passion, it’s something he loves enough to dedicate his life to it, but it also demands incredible sacrifice. It demands money, time, and your body. (“If selling my soul is what it takes to win, I’ll give you this body, no holds barred.”)

Yuri’s point in this excerpt, as he says, is that it doesn’t matter if his grandfather surpasses everyone’s expectations and lives longer than the max ten years of the doctor’s prognosis. Whether Yuri realized it before or not, whether he was just avoiding thinking about it, he can’t avoid it now: his grandfather is old and his grandfather will die. Yuri has very limited time with him. His grandfather likely won’t live to see Yuri’s entire figure skating career. There’s a clock staring him in the face now, counting down from ten with the knowledge that it could be longer or shorter but that his grandfather, the man who raised him and supports and loves him, will be gone by the time Yuri is Viktor’s age.

So, effectively, Yuri feels torn in two directions, between his love of his grandfather and his love of skating. He feels like he can’t have both. He feels like he’s sacrificed his grandfather in pursuit of the ice. He feels guilty but also sick looking at the future and knowing this isn’t going to change. He can’t give up one or the other. And he’s already wasted so much precious time without even realizing it.

There it is.

Vicchan’s in Yuuri’s head, then, as small and soft and bouncingly happy as the day Yuuri left him for Detroit and, as it turns out, never saw him again. He nods and tries to get his voice to work around the lump in his throat.

“Okay. I understand.”

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen a character have this conflict. Yuuri ‘sacrificed’ his relationship with his beloved Vicchan in pursuit of his skating career�� he leaves Hasetsu at 18 and for some reason never comes back even to visit. He missed precious time with someone/something he loved because he was far away pursuing his dream. You can’t make that time back up. You can’t change it. And Yuuri probably understands that part of what has Yuri so freaked out is that this could have been worse than just a scare - his grandfather could have actually died this time, and Yuri wouldn’t have had the chance to say goodbye or even have seen him once in the time leading up to his death, just like Yuuri didn’t with Vicchan.

Yuri’s not talking anymore. He’s looking away, white fingers balled in white sheets. His knees are drawing closer to his chest, making him smaller, smaller, until Yuuri notices a fine tremor ripple through the boy’s shoulders.

“Yura…”

There’s a low noise, barely discernable, from Yuri’s throat that means nothing and everything at the same time. On the wall, the banner encourages davai, Yuri! and his eyes are searching every other part of the room but there.

I wanted to write this story partially for this scene. This entire story is Yuri struggling with being vulnerable, and in this scene he’s finally breaking down but he’s still fighting at every step. Yuuri, though he’s used to crying more so than Yuri (especially in front of others), understands this struggle to hold himself together very well. He has a lot of empathy for Yuri in this moment.

When he finally speaks it’s in Russian, hometown accent barely there as his voice cracks and curls in on itself.

“He’s all I…”

Yuuri wants to not understand, but he does anyway. He reaches out before he can stop himself, his hand finding Yuri’s balled into a fist around the sheets. There’s that noise again, like something choked back, and Yuri’s chin falls to his chest. Behind locks of straw-like hair, his eyes are screwed shut.

The hand lets go of the sheets and makes a fist around Yuuri’s fingers, instead. A breath, then, barely audible:

“He’s all I have.”

Yuuri understands feeling like you’re fighting alone. Even with his massive support system (something Yuri doesn’t share) he knows how terrifying and pressure-inducing those feelings can be. Soon after this, he will reassure Yuri that even if he feels like he’s alone, he isn’t.

It just comes down to the fact that Yuri is scared. He’s only sixteen and he feels responsible for taking care of his grandfather now, which is a common role reversal in parent-child relationships but Yuri is extraordinarily young to be dealing with this, and has absolutely no other family to lean on. Plus, he lives far away, hasn’t seen him in months, and knows now that their time is limited. He’s terrified.

Yuuri doesn’t try to fix it. He can’t change the situation, no matter how shitty it is. But what he does, and what he has been doing since the beginning of the story, is refusing to let Yuri feel like he’s fighting alone. He is being Yuri’s support network (or at least a representative in Moscow of Yuri’s support network that is comprised of himself, Viktor, Yakov, Lilia, etc). He listens to Yuri, tries to help in any way he can, and makes sure this boy who is little more than a child knows that there are many people who love him and will help him if he will just let them.

It doesn’t change the fact that Nikolai is Yuri’s only blood family. It doesn’t change the fact that he will be dead before Yuri retires. But it does help.

(This turned more into an in-depth analysis than it did a DVD-style commentary on what I was thinking as I wrote it and how it all came to be. All of that is a bit too personal, though, so we’re gonna stick with meta-analysis lol)

#ask #ask game #meta #tether #yuri on ice #yoi #yoi fic #yoi fanfic #yuuri katsuki #katsuki yuuri #yuri katsuki #katsuki yuri #yuri plisetsky #caitsyoi

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96percentdone · 7 years ago

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imaginepartybabyz

“someone ask me for viktuuri fic recs so I can just get this post out...”

hey skylar give us... the good reccomendations for the good content I LONG for it...

@imaginepartybabyz Y’know half the reason I wanted to make this post is because of your fics. I can’t rec your own fics to you Noa. It doesn’t work out.

I’m gonna try to keep the super popular fics everyone and their mother has already read off the list. Y’know the ones that show up every fic rec. Anyway let’s begin. Under the cut!

Finished Fics:

Masks off by emulikule “And so the story goes that a playboy comes to a town, makes it fall in love with him and then proceeds to get himself enticed by the most mysterious person there. Wait... did it really go like that?” Alright so I am weak for stories where a character loves two people, and it looks like a love triangle, but those two people are actually just the same fuckin person and they have a secret identity or some shit. It’s why I like Miraculous Ladybug. This fic??? It has that. Also it has fucking masquerades. It’s great.

Lifetime Record by futuresoon “Victor Nikiforov is a lot of things: a celebrity, a genius, the world's greatest men's figure skater, the object of Yuuri Katsuki's idolization. He's also been dead for twenty years. When Yuuri returns home in search of something to inspire him to get back into skating, what he finds is someone eager to help, unconventional, and incredibly, desperately lonely.” So I don’t typically like ghost fics because the concept of them makes me depressed. (”They can’t be together really if one of them is dead!!”) But I read this one anyway. Because. it was on the tvtropes fic rec page and didn’t contain garbage, and I have no regrets. Listen if you’re afraid of an unhappy ending. Don’t be. I hate tragedies. I would not rec this if it was one. Believe me. It’s an emotional ride.

lie to make me like you by cityboys “It’s become a game, of sorts, to anyone privy to the fact that the pattern exists in the first place: ask Victor out at the beginning of the month, date for however many days, and wait for the end to come and for Victor to say, always: I couldn’t fall in love with you. Let’s break up.” Now the truth is I really could rec all of cityboys fics because they’re all works of art but I told myself to just pick one so this list doesn’t end up 90% them. And this fic. Let me tell you. It’s fucking beautiful. I think the most wonderful aspect of this fic is there’s tension, but there isn’t like extreme angst. The climax of the fic isn’t incredibly stressful, even when there is build up to it. I think it’s truly wonderful. Also this fic singlehandedly got ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” stuck in my head forever.

Impostor Syndrome by renaissance “At some point, most people with a childhood crush will imagine meeting their idol, and might even pretend that they're dating. This is the story of how Yuuri Katsuki meets his childhood crush, and how they pretend that they're dating.” Alright we need one fake dating AU on here and this is it. This is peak fake dating AU. It doesn’t get any better than this. Everyone else go home. No but seriously this fuckin fake dating AU. has just so much going for it. At the start it seems pretty standard, but the way it develops. HOly shit. Just. Just read it.

not gold like in your dreams by ebenroot ““Victor, you could have let some psychopath into your apartment.” “Oh come on, he’s not a psychopath,” Victor chides.Christophe makes a gesture with his hand that says ‘are you seriously this naïve or are you drunk at work again?’. “Victor, you don’t know that. You don’t know anything about him. Whose name am I going to give to the police or face I’m going to describe to the sketch artist when they find your body chopped up like Hannibal Lecter’s side dish? ”-- in which Victor and Yuuri are roommates and Yuuri has a secret“ So this. Is a Penelope AU. AKA a movie I never watched, which should be a testament to how good this fucking fic is because damn. Like. You don’t have to see this movie just read this fic. It works fucking perfectly. Yuuri is constantly hiding his face in Viktor’s apartment and doesn’t give his full name, and Viktor is like “this is kinda sketchy but it’s fine” and then romance. I just made this sound so much worse than it is but listen. I was emotional. I felt things. I don’t always feel things but I felt them here. Just read it.

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep by Orchids_and_Fictional_Cities “Katsuki Yuuri has been cursed to spread misery and grief to those who dare to come close to him. Viktor Nikiforov has been sentenced to wander the earth, unable to die, granting wishes to mortals in the hopes that one of them might give his life meaning in exchange. They meet in a tempest of April snow.“ So I just binge read this all in one go. Okay first. it has gorgeous art. Holy shit. Yes. There’s art. And second. This story. The world it built. The atmosphere. The emotions. That fucking beautiful ending. Oh my god. four chapters of just. perfection. Please. Just. Please. Read this.

Waiting for the Rain by trashy_cas “In which Katsuki Yuuri meets a stranger who also enjoys frequenting empty parks on rainy mornings. Garden of Words AU“ Here’s another fic based on a movie I haven’t seen, and also won’t see because. eww. Creepy age gap. The creepy age gap is obviously not in this fic. I would not put it here if it was. No this fic is just a wonderful atmospheric experience. It really captures that rainy garden mood throughout and when it ends...it feels a little bit like the skies cleared up and the sun shines again. It’s just beautiful.

Ongoing:

don't want to be lonely (just want to be yours) by Linisy “This time the flesh and blood Yuuri wasn't around to distract him, and he watched the video intently, hypnotized by the swing of Yuuri’s hips, the look in his eyes that burned with intensity and the strong, confident line of his shoulders. Yuuri was, as always, breathtaking. Victor remembered their first meeting well. Yuuri was the last member to join the group. He was soft spoken, and he stood as if he were trying to make himself smaller, shoulders drawn inward, head tilted toward the ground, glasses slipping off his nose. Victor was surprised to hear that he was the second oldest behind Victor himself. Everything changed the first time he saw him dance. - Vitya, Katsu, Yura, Beka and Chu make up the top idol group SVD. They've been through hell together, living in their tiny dorm and working toward the day they'd finally hit it big. That day has finally come, but sometime over the course of the past three years, Victor has fallen in love with Yuuri Katsuki.” Okay so this fic has just started, and it’s an idol AU, but don’t let that turn you away because it’s masterful. It covers like five different POVs and all of them are so distinct. You can really feel the character they switch to. It has so much potential.

Lullaby of Birdland by Orchids_and_Fictional_Cities “In another world, their story might have started with ‘Hi there’, or ‘Lovely sky tonight’, or ‘Hello, stranger’. Or perhaps something less cliché, something like: ‘A commemorative photo? Sure thing! ’But in this one, it starts with an electric blue cocktail, the taste of smoke in the air. And: “You have really talented, um. Fingers.” --- Yuuri makes music with his body. Victor makes music because that's all he knows. (Or: After his poor performance at the Grand Prix Final, Yuuri is weary but not broken, and decides to give it one last shot. Victor plays piano three nights a week at a small jazz bar near the Detroit Skating Club, and does his best to get by.)” This fic has this one really clever plot point I can’t tell you because spoilers. But I think about it all the time. And you will too probably!! If you read it. I don’t even like jazz but this fic made me like jazz. Also. The feelings are real. The feelings are real and it’s got the atmosphere of a Jazz Club. Fitting considering.

On Ice, Yuri!!! by octothorpe “Russia’s rising star, Victor Nikiforov, age twenty-three, has just finished his first Grand Prix Final and is gearing up for Serious Training for the next season. Russia’s rising star, Victor Nikiforov, age twenty-three, is currently standing naked in the Yu-Topia onsen, back arched, silver hair flowing, with one arm outstretched toward a very bewildered Yuuri Katsuki.“Yuuri! Hi!” OR The weirdly-canon-but-not-really Reverse AU.“ This is the only reverse AU that matters. Okay. Every other AU was weird in some way, but this one feels...accurate. To everyone. Also it doesn’t feel gross. So there’s that. Everyone feels true to themselves, and it’s “weirdly canon” like they said, so this fic really does feel like the most accurate version of this AU there could be. Everyone is so IC. It’s beautiful.

Rhapsody by FigureSgayts “He's been a star from the beginning. Both of his parents, Yakov, and all those around him, everybody who has seen him skate, knows it. Viktor, however, continues to see himself as nothing but a potential rising star. After all, he's only sixteen and is just making his senior debut. He can't be as good as everybody seems to be making him out to be, ignoring the small (large) collection of gold medals that he has. As such, all he wants to do is focus on improving and living up to the expectations thrown at him on and off the ice. However, only a few months before the start of his first senior Grand Prix series, a sharp blue smears itself right above his clavicle. Only in his dreams can it be bruise. The late appearance of a soulmark is enough to knock Viktor a little off balance mentally. This isn't to say that Viktor will reject his soulmate. In fact, he's willing to go above and beyond to do all he can for whoever they may be, but first, he's going to claw his way to the top. If everybody expects him to be a star, then so be it. He'll be the star that they want, and once he's at the top, nobody will be able to stop him from giving his all to whoever shares his mark. After all, he is Viktor Nikiforov.” It’s a soulmate AU. But it’s also a Viktor backstory fic. AKA it’s a fucking win win y’all. It has everything you could ever want probably. Warning though Viktor is kinda an oblivious dingus at times and you’ll want to just. argh. Viktor please. But listen it’s really good at super worth it okay.

The Coin, The Stone & The Rose by Silver_Scribbles “Crown Prince Viktor Nikiforov once had the world at his fingertips; he was rich and powerful and handsome, and he had everything his heart desired. Now, he is a Beast, imprisoned by an Enchantress' spell; hiding away from the world in the never-ending winter of his shame. Katsuki Yuuri is . . . odd, to say the least. Beautiful, but odd. While the rest of the villagers put one foot firmly in front of the other, Yuuri would rather loose himself to his dancing and his daydreams; always wishing for something more than his provincial life. Each is captive to circumstances beyond their control; trapped by unbreakable spells and impossible dreams. However, an unlikely meeting is about to change everything. Hope makes a final play for their salvation as the sands of time run out; but as Yuuri and Viktor learn to find themselves in one another, they also make discoveries that they're completely unprepared for . . . some wondrous, some wretched . . . and some treacherous enough to permanently tear them apart. For who could ever learn to love a Beast?“ Fuckin I don’t like beauty and the beast as like. a movie. And everyone who’s tried this AU up until this fic was doing it wrong with all the bad things about the movie. But this fic!!!! It takes the basic premise (a prince turned into a beast that can only be saved by true love) and keeps everyone in character. No fucking uncontrollable rage outbursts from Viktor. Everyone is just how they should be, and there’s none of the fucking Bad tropes that were in the original movie. It’s basically what the movie should have been. Basically.

This Conversation by RedTwice “Somewhere along his journey to share himself with the world, Yuuri finds himself travelling to Detroit to train with the world-renowned ice skating coach Celestino Cialdini. There’s just one small problem: Christophe Giacometti’s coach has retired earlier than anyone expected, leading the young skater to Celestino’s door as another full-time student. Yuuri slowly befriends Christophe as they train for the senior circuits together, and finds that this friendship is bringing out parts of himself he never expected to find, for better or worse. Or: Christophe joins Yuuri in Detroit from the beginning, and leads Yuuri down a six-year-long path of self-discovery.“ Do you want a fic where Chris and Yuuri are friends. Do you. Because. This is that fic. The viktuuri hasn’t happened yet but it will, but listen, if you also want that good friendship content. Read this. Read it. Just do it. Just. Read.

Trade Your Heroes For Ghosts by Naamah_Beherit “Having endured what was probably the worst day of his life followed by a night he does not remember, Yuuri wakes up with a hangover of the century and a desperate plea for the world to forget about his existence. Alas, the world has other plans. So does a certain Russian skater.“ Okay so like. Here’s a great canon divergence AU where Yuuri finds out immediately about the banquet. ANd it’s just. wonderful. it’s just great. Listen. Listen okay secretly all of you have wanted this. I know. I understand. But listen. It’s here okay. You can read it. It’s super good. It makes you feel good inside. All kinds of feelings. Don’t you like feelings? no probably not BUT THEY’RE GOOD FEELINGS.

And finally, everything by komagayda. (Yes Noa. It’s your turn). Everything he write is IC, and while they’re all “weird AUs” don’t we all need weird AUs? Yes. Yes we do. The workings of the worlds he’s built are so fascinating and fun, and the super accurate characterization just brings everything to life. It’s beautiful. ALso. mlm fics written by an actual mlm???? it’s more likely than you think. I couldn’t pick one fic like I did for cityboys because I’d feel like a fucking liar. And I didn’t want this to also be even longer with every single fic. So we’re just gonna do this all at once kids. It’s great. Noa is a great author. 100000000000/10. Get on reading his shit.

And there you go. Enjoy the good content. Your welcome.

#imaginepartybabyz #all these fics and authors are safe #there were other fics #but the others fics were by authors who don't always write like #tumblr pure content #and the like #and I don't feel like dealing with that backlash right now #if you want more I can give you those too #just #probably in private

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yoireverse · 8 years ago

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homecoming - p2

((hello all!! welcome back to the reverse au! quite a bit has been happenin’ on the blog since the last update, hahaha, but here ya go. ;) ♥♥♥ as always, i luv the reverse au! ♥ ps - don’t forget to check out [rev au zine signups]! ♥))

summary: Yuri pulls Victor to the side with an unkind expression and the older skater wills himself not to snap at the teenager. "So what comes next? What's your scheme here?"

Victor takes a long moment to compose himself. He has to be the adult here. "There is no scheme, Yura."

For the time being, they are at an impasse. word count: ~2.8k rating: t ✮chapter 1 | ✮read on ao3 | ✮reverse fic tag | ✮reverse art tag →my personal | →em’s art blog!

Yuuri decides to organize his tour of Hasetsu in neat little blocks. First, he’s going to take his guests to the city, where they can shop. Then, he’s going to take them to his favorite restaurant near the pier. After that, there will be stops at his childhood hang out spots - Minako’s ballet studio and Ice Castle Hasetsu.

Victor insists on taking a photo with his fiancé at every monument. Yuuri is pretty relaxed about it, all things considered, because he likes to move at a slow pace, and he knows how much Victor likes taking pictures for his social media. The person who is surprisingly quiet during the first part of their journey is Yuri.

The older men loop arms and let him be for the first few hours of the morning, because the teenager is groggy and jet-lagged. They’ve all been up earlier for practice, of course, but this is vacation, and if the blonde wants to hang back and let them chat about the history of Hasetsu, Victor and Yuuri are patient and understanding about his wishes.

He still manages to snap a few pictures, though, because the statues are just too ridiculous to pass up.

Once the three of them get to the market area of town, Yuuri is pleased to see that the blonde is excited. Yuri drifts between the narrow shops, excitedly lingering around one particular t-shirt. Victor, meanwhile, is fawning over different earrings and pointing them out to his partner, who is just rolling his eyes.

Yuuri approaches their young companion and says, “If you like it, you should get it.”

The blonde scoffs at him. “I’m going to, Fluffy. Stop breathing down my neck.” Yuuri shrugs at that, heading back to Victor’s side, where the tall man immediately attaches himself to the brunette’s back.

The older men are disgusting, and it’s truly outstanding that Yuri hasn’t dropkicked both of them into a ditch yet.

When they stop for lunch, arms laden with bags, Yuri and Yuuri are both exhausted. Victor, on the other hand, looks like he couldn’t be more refreshed, fussing with the new blue earrings Yuuri had just bought him and his abundance of purchases. Lunch turns out to be nothing fancy - it’s just a stall that overlooks the ocean, but Yuuri murmurs with the owner for a time until three steaming bowls of ramen are in front of them.

Victor and Yuri drool over the smell of the meal for a time until Yuuri presses his hands together and murmurs, breaking apart the disposable chopsticks. The two younger skaters stare at him as he fluidly eats his meal, and he raises an eyebrow at them with foggy glasses.

Yuri snorts, but his waiting comment is cut off by Victor’s smirk. “So, are you going to embarrass yourself out here too, Yura?” Yuri clenches a fist, cheeks growing warm. Yuuri, stuck between the hotheaded younger skaters, just ducks his head down and continues to eat, ignoring the splashes of broth from the foreigners digging into ramen with sloppy chopstick technique.

The stand owner pats Yuuri on the shoulder. The dark haired man just smiles back to him apologetically, murmuring that the two of them will definitely be cleaning up behind themselves.

Walking down the shores after their meal keeps Victor alarmingly quiet and distant. Yuuri wants to reach out, but he decides to talk absently with the teenager instead.

Yuri looks at Victor, reaching out to the ocean, and says, “He always does this.”

“Does what?”

He points. “He likes the sounds the seagulls make.” Green eyes flick upwards at Yuuri. “He’s never told you that before?”

Yuuri’s lips grow thin as he presses them together. “I guess it’s never come up.”

Victor puts his right hand out to the midday sun before sighing in contentment, rushing back to Yuuri’s side, slipping their hands together. Yuuri smiles at the warmth of him, although he’s curious to know what’s going on in Victor’s head.

Their final two stops provide more insight about the eldest of their group than the rest of their trip. In fact, Yuuri schedules his time with the rink and the studio for the following day, so that his guests have plenty of time to rest before they spend time with Minako and the Nishigori family.

The name of the second group startles Victor at dinner. “Who?”

“Mm,” Mari pats Victor on the back. “Yuuri’s childhood friends. You’ll like them. Sweet.” Her English is choppy, but that isn’t why the blue-eyed man is startled. He stares at his coach in wonder.

It makes him realize there are things he doesn’t know about Yuuri, despite the older man’s lengthy catalogue of interviews that he’s poured over.

Hiroko tries to swat at her son’s head, trying to muss his hair at the table, but Yuuri swerves to avoid her hands. Toshiya tries to give Victor and Yuuri some of his fine saké and Yuuri vehemently refuses, turning dark red at the notion of casually drinking while he’s home. Victor gets breathless and giggly at the actions of the Katsuki family.

The blonde teenager stews in a quiet rage for most of the evening, trying to gather his thoughts as far as what he’s going to tell Victor before their week of vacation is over.

Minako beams when Yuuri and his small entourage come into the studio. There isn’t much to see, but even Yuri marvels at the beauty of the small studio. The long-haired woman leans against the walls and talks to her old student, congratulating Yuuri on his engagement and giggling when the twenty-eight year old flushes and twiddles his thumbs, looking outrageously young in the moment. She suppresses the urge to bundle him up in her arms for protection, doing a small twirl instead, still as poised and graceful as she ever was.

Yuuri says as much and Minako pinches his soft cheek. “I never fell out of practice. Did you?” He grumbles for a minute, edging away from her and failing to escape the grasp of her long fingers. “I have spare sweats in the dressing room. Go change and do your stretches. The Ice Castle can wait.”

“Minako-sensei,” Yuuri whines. He’s been teaching Victor the basics, and he’s not out of practice with his ballet training, per se. He’s just been more focused on getting in shape for the next skating season.

She still drives him hard while Victor and Yuri watch, amazed to see the older skater moving through the steps, even though Minako is calmly correcting every one of his minute mistakes.

In that moment, Victor feels both a cathartic pleasure in seeing his coach suffer and a sad empathy for Yuuri’s plight, knowing that Yuuri had worked him just as hard the previous season. Now, at least, he sees where the man gets his drive for ballet from.

His eyes drift over to Yuri, who pulls further into himself as Victor’s coach dances. When the teenager notices Victor staring, he stands up and jerks his hand towards the hallway. “We’ll be back,” Yuri spits the words out, waiting for Victor to stand up and follow him with a sigh.

The long-haired skater waits until they are a fair distance from the studio to fold his arms over his chest. The teenager glares at him for a time, so Victor closes his eyes and opens the platform for discussion, not in the mood to wait for Yuri to violently lash out at him. “Yura, what is it?” Victor likes surprises, but he doesn’t like playing guessing games with his young rinkmate. Guessing what Yuri’s trying to tell him is like pulling teeth from a feral animal. When Yuri still doesn’t say anything, Victor turns on his heel and almost catches his leg on the blonde’s. “Honestly. I am trying to listen. What do you want?”

“What’s your angle?” The young man turns his head sharply, glaring at Victor with full force. “What’s your scheme?”

Victor impatiently scowls. “Yura, what? What are you talking about?”

Yuri grabs Victor by the collar, making the taller man’s eyes narrow. “What is the point of all this dumb shit? You hang around with your coach all the time in Saint Petersburg, so what’s different this time? You always keep your crushes around and then you drop them, so why are you so...disgusting this time? I’ve never seen you like this.”

An obnoxious snort passes through Victor’s flared nostrils. “I don’t know if you somehow missed the memo, but we are engaged.” Victor forcefully pulls out the teenager’s grip to flash his ring, angry energy rising in his chest. “Yes, it’s different. I love Yuuri, and you know why we’re here. So cut the crap and tell me why you really called me out here.”

“Are you serious about this?” A hard edge bites at the teenager’s tone, and if Victor weren’t trying so hard not to snap, he would shake the blonde down and tell him to watch his manners. “You’re honestly fine with life like this? You’re not one for settling down, Nikiforov, let alone in this sleepy little port town. What’s your game?”

After sucking in several deep breaths, Victor presses his lips in a line. “There is no game, Yura. I told you my reasons. If this is where Yuuri wants to move after we retire, I’ll consider it.” Clarity hits Victor in that moment, and he laughs quickly. “You’re frustrated! About what? My retirement? Yuuri’s? The fact that we could be leaving you? You’re being a child.”

This makes Yuri drop his fists and snarl, kicking at the floor. Victor smiles at that. Yuri is being roundabout with his fury, but at the end of the day, he’s still very young, and he’s never been good at verbalizing himself.

“It’s not a decision I have to make any time soon,” Victor assures him quietly, lowering his arms and walking away. “When I’m ready to leave Russia, I’ll do it on my own terms, and I don’t care what anyone says, you can’t stop me.”

Yuri stays there with his hands curled in fists for several more minutes, waiting for Yuuri and Victor to emerge from the ballet studio and link arms as they walk to the ice rink.

Yuuri flicks dark eyes back to the teenager a couple of times, fidgeting with his glasses and wondering why the youth looks so terribly furious.

Yuuko, Takeshi, and their three children rush to greet Yuuri as soon as they walk up to the rental counter at Ice Castle. None of them had brought their proper skating gear, because they’d come to Hasetsu on vacation, so they’re really just here to meet Yuuri’s friends and hang out for a while.

The petite woman has a bright smile, and she’s so soft around Yuuri that it makes both of his guests stare in wonder. Amazingly, the more physical of the couple is Takeshi, who pulls Yuuri close and ruffles his hair. It’s always such a treat for Victor to see Yuuri with his hair less polished that he jumps at the sight, enamored all over again.

Once the triplets tell Yuuri their stories, he ushers them out of the rink with a wave to the Nishigoris, headed home for the afternoon. He lets Victor walk ahead of him as they walk down the steep slopes, giving his partner a knowing nod and walking beside Yuri.

Yuuri sticks his hands in his pants pockets and smiles gently. “Everything alright? Are you not having fun?”

Yuri shakes his head, pouting. “It’s fine, I guess. Weird. Not bad.”

“Mm,” the older man says, reaching out for the blonde and startling the teenager with a soft grip on Yuri’s shoulder. “You know we’re always here for you, right? You’re not like, fighting us by yourself. We’re here for support.”

Green eyes flick up to Victor, who had nearly throttled him earlier, blue eyes cutting and sharp. It hadn’t exactly been a moment full of support. “Just something stupid. None of your business, Fluffy.”

Yuuri shrugs and sighs. “If you say so. Just remember that, okay?”

Victor had said the same things earlier, even though he’d been testy. Yuri supposes that he really should start trusting that they do want to hear what he has to say, even if he himself isn’t sure what he’s thinking about.

The next few days, the Katsuki family mostly stays in, asking Yuuri to do a few chores. Victor volunteers to help as well, and drags Yuri to aid them as well.

Over the course of the week, Victor gains key insights to Yuuri’s childhood from his relatives. There’s a lot of hodgepodge translating going on via Yuuri and Mari, but Victor understands that Hiroko is a soft, cuddly woman, much like her son.

She pokes at Victor, tangles her fingers in Victor’s hair, just smiling. Victor learns to lean back and let her have her way, loving the feeling of her soft fingers on his scalp. Yuuri hisses and Mari rolls her eyes, but for the most part Toshiya just smiles and watches the madness unfold in his house.

Everyone gradually includes the teen in their antics as well, fussing with his blonde locks. Mari pulls Yuri into a headlock when he’s supposed to be peeling potatoes, and when he stumbles into her chest, they all share a long laugh and Mari just pats him on the back, knowing he hadn’t meant anything by it.

By the time they ship off, Yuuri’s family hugs the three guys. Hiroko and Toshiya both pat their son quickly on the shoulders before Minako zips by in her little car.

It is most telling that Yuri falls asleep as soon as they get on their train to the airport.

Yuuri leans over the armrest to whisper to Victor, “Do you think we wore him out?”

“He invited himself. Let him be a little worn down,” Victor murmurs back, fingers running over Yuuri’s. “I really am worried about him. Perhaps he’s gotten a bit attached.”

Yuuri fixes Victor with a look. “And that’s a bad thing?”

Victor hums, sinking more lowly into his chair. “No. Not bad at all. I just wish he’d come out and say so. His teenage angst is driving me up a wall.”

Yuuri flicks Victor in the forehead. “Don’t say that sort of stuff around him. We’re supposed to be people he can lean on when he needs help.”

“And he can get it,” Victor says, kissing his fiancé quickly on the cheek, “Once he’s ready to ask and to listen. I don’t like being kicked in the shins for being nice to him, you know.”

“You make fun of him for being short once a week. What’s fair is fair.” To add insult to injury, Yuuri kisses Victor chastely on his pouty lips. “He’ll come around. Like you said, he just needs time.”

Victor sighs in understanding. “I know.” After a pause, he grips Yuuri’s hand tightly.

[extra]

Long after Yuuri’s flight takes off, the Nishigoris, Katsukis, and Minako have a conference after all of them get off of work.

Hiroko is the first one to speak, leaning against her husband, who loops an arm around her waist. “He seems like a nice boy.”

“Very tall. And so handsome!!” Minako claps her hands together and Mari rolls her eyes. “How did the week go?”

“It was nice,” Mari says, poking Axel in the head lightly when the little girl tries to slap the woman in the neck. “They brought a kid with ‘em, real cute. Surly. Reminds me of one my favorite members of a band. You can tell that the three of them are close.”

“Ahh, yes,” Yuuko bubbles over at that, reaching across the table to pass Minako more liquor. “I’ve never seen Yuuri so touchy with anyone before! What a cutie.”

“I know, right?” Takeshi chimes in between ruffling Loop and Lutz’s loose hair. “I mean, it’s really nice to just see him so at peace. Feels like it’s been years since he came home and just really took a break. He was always just here to pay his dues and then get back to skating. This was a proper visit.”

Hiroko smiles, holding out her glass when Mari offers to pour her more as the bottle makes its’ rounds at the table. “Yuuri’s always been so reserved, so I’m glad. His boyfriend really brings out the best in him.”

“Fiancé,” Toshiya murmurs in correction, pointing to his own ring. “Those two couldn’t stop holding hands or flashing those rings. Young love shines brightest, or so they say.”

A shared laugh passes around the table while they eat snacks and drink, Takeshi and Yuuko jetting off first so that they can get the triplets to bed.

The rest of the evening is spent talking about Yuuri’s flustered embarrassment and refusal to translate everything his parents had said about he and Victor, Mari’s love of Yuri, and their overall enjoyment of the company.

Minako toasts in the middle of the night, when Toshiya is starting to get loud and boisterous, “Miss them already!! To their future as a couple in skating, and to many more visits to Hasetsu!!”

The other three at the table lift their glasses for a clink.

#txt #yoi #reverse au #reverse fic #mod: ash

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charles195 · 8 years ago

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This Body Is Yours (Ch. 1)

Fandom: Yuuri!!! On Ice

Summary: Destiny? Fate? Soulmates? Reincarnation without the death? Otabek mostly thought it was troublesome. They were individuals that had their own aspirations and goals to achieve, and having their souls intertwined by some unexplored metaphysical bond was taking a toll on the both of them.

Pairing: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky

Characters: Otabek Altin, Mila Babichieva, Yakov Feltsman, Victor Nikiforov, Yuri Plisetsky, Georgi Popovich, (later) Unimportant OCs

Warnings: Body-Swap, Body Insecurities

Words: 4.6k+

There were clothes littered all over the floor: black tights, leopard print jackets, jeans, hoodies, figure skating outfits long outgrown. They were laying right where Yuri had taken them off. That, or kicked away when Yuri needed a particular clothing item to put on. Yuri never noticed how quickly the floor disappeared between laundry days until he found the sickly shade of green that had been hiding from him all this time.

He never mulled over miniscule details like the color of his carpet. It was as useless as learning a language he didn’t need and as productive as braiding his hair. Extraneous efforts weren’t his specialty. That was why he didn’t care about the color of his carpet and why there were clothes littered all over the floor… on a normal day… because...

… There aren’t clothes littered all over the floor. Though, that didn’t necessarily mean Yuri cared about the color of his carpet now; he was just surprised at how bare his room looked when the carpet wasn’t covered.

What matters is the inconvenience this discovery brought. His clothes weren’t stuffed under the bed or swept to the side or organized into piles that Yuri could pick and choose from in an instant. They were out of sight and Yuri felt like he was going out of his own mind. What really matters is his shoes, though. He could be naked for all he cared as long as he had his ice skates and pointe shoes, but he didn’t know where to look for them because all he could focus on was the sea of bile-green all around him.

He had been panicking for an entire five minutes, apparently, because he had to shut off his phone’s alarm clock once and for all before he finally peeked into his dresser. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt that his top drawer was heavier than usual. It was packed with all the clothes he would need for practice: black shirts, black tights, and black socks. The second drawer had all of his tops. The third one had his bottoms and socks and underwear. Fourth had the jackets and hoodies. Everything was folded neatly and stacked efficiently.

“Who the hell has been touching my shit?” he grumbled to himself. The only one who had permission to move anything around was his precious cat Yulia, who did as she pleased anyway. His grandpa never touched any of his possessions, even when he was gone for months during skating season. It had to be one of his annoying rinkmates. How they snuck in, Yuri may never know, but they were going to pay the price later.

He slid open his closet door to assess the damage. All of his figure skating costumes were hung proudly, organized by year, with the corresponding medals and awards proudly displayed on the shelf above the clothes. “This prank is too weird…” To the side, all of his shoes were lined up against the wall by type. Regular sneakers were in one row, ballet shoes were in another, and all of his skates and the single pair of high heels that he owned were in the last row. “Shit, I have to explain the heels, don’t I?”

He left his closet and collapsed back onto his bed. He still had a lot of time before he needed to get ready for the day. He budgeted a full ten minutes (technically eight minutes so he wouldn’t be late to getting ready, even though he also budgeted an extra five minutes to give him enough time to get ready) dedicated solely to lazing around in bed right after he woke up. Right now, he had six minutes to burn (technically four) and he wished he had more so he could go back to sleep. Or, better yet, if time would reverse itself so he could re-live the same dream.

He flipped onto his back and let his bangs fall over his eyes. The gaps of sunlight peering in through the blinds hurt, burning past his eyelids until all Yuri could see was amber. He covered his face with a hand. This morning felt ethereal. Not like he felt violated or out of place, but more like he resented being awake.

He was someone else entirely when he dreamt.

Victor was knocking on the door. He, at least, had the courtesy to warn Yuri about his arrival through text even if he ignored Yuri’s insistence that Victor’s visit, nay, his existence was unnecessary. Yuri thought about just not answering the door and sneaking out of his window to avoid Victor altogether, but if he didn’t answer, then Victor would keep knocking forever, and that would wake up his grandpa.

“Dobroye utro, kotyonok!” Victor greeted cheerfully.

Yuri glared at him. The morning was not good and he refused to identify as a kitten. “Did you touch my stuff?”

“Did the silly kitty lose something?”

Yuri slapped Victor’s hand away when he tried to caress his cheek. “Never mind, it’s nothing.” He dropped the subject. Victor looked like he was truly unaware of the state that Yuri’s room was in. Victor would’ve made some smug remark about how he didn’t want the Ice Kitten of Russia to get lost in such a messy room, or something equally annoying.

Victor pouted and crossed his arms, exaggerating the offense he took. “Ah, what happened? You were so much cuter, yesterday. It scared me so much that I came to drive you to the rink today in case you weren’t feeling well.” He hugged Yuri against his will. “The throes of puberty must be hitting you so! My little Yuratchka is growing up too fast!”

The more Yuri struggled, the tighter Victor’s arms were around his body. “What are you talking about, old man? Are you getting Alzheimer's already?”

Victor gasped and suddenly stopped hugging Yuri. “Yura, you don’t know about it?”

Yuri wanted to say that yesterday was just as normal as the day before yesterday, but he had no recollection of yesterday. All he could remember was the strange dream he had last night. “What are you keeping from me?” In a moment of weakness, he leaned towards Victor. He didn’t even know what the big question hovering around him like a boa constrictor was, but he felt like he would suffocate without an answer. Reluctantly, he let Victor tuck his bangs behind his ear so that Victor could gaze fondly at his full face.

“I’ll tell you in the car, okay?”

Getting into Victor’s car was a mistake. Yuri only realized that as soon as it was too late to get out; Victor had started the car and sped off as soon as possible. He hastily buckled in his seatbelt and prayed. His stomach dropped when he glanced at the speedometer. “Victor, the speed limit in residential areas is not 100 kilometers per hours.”

“I’ll teach you how to drive later, Yura,” Victor promised.

That was one promise that Yuri was fine with Victor forgetting about.

“You deserve to know the truth about what’s happening to you… Tell me, what do you think about your body?”

Unconsciously, Yuri rubbed his thighs nervously. He remembered that there was no pain in dreams, so he pinched himself experimentally. He was definitely awake. Not that that was the issue, because even in his dreams, he wouldn’t open up to Victor about a topic so personal. “You pervert. Is this a sex talk?”

“I understand if you’re not ready, but just know one thing: your body is yours and nobody else’s.”

Yuri stayed silent for the rest of the car ride. Stupid Victor. How can you be so sure of yourself?

The familiar sensation of cold air rushed into Yuri’s face as soon as he entered the ice rink. It stirred about him until the heavy door slammed behind him. How he longed to give away all of his weight to the smooth surface of ice below him. It was as easy as lacing up his skates and dashing into the rink. He wouldn’t dare set foot on the ice without stretching, first, and by the time he was done stretching, his ballet class would already be starting and he would be yelled at for trying to ditch again.

Yuri headed towards the dance studio immediately so he could get a head start on his stretching and have extra free time to practice jumps. He would be the first one there because of how unusually early he was. Usually, he was one of the last ones to arrive because he purposely took his time walking to procrastinate his most dreaded block of his schedule: off-ice training.

Attending ballet class with the other junior-level skaters was annoying. It was all repetitive exercises and technique work and across the floors. God, those three words haunted him in his nightmares, sometimes. And worse, he was the only boy in a class of girls because a prodigy like him shouldn’t be limited by his gender, or something. Yuri didn’t like focusing on the implications of his placement. He would’ve suffered in either class. Mila was often a substitute instructor for the female class and Georgi likewise for the male. Both were annoyingly obsessed over their significant other 24/7, but at least Mila didn’t fight with her boyfriend over the phone during class.

Yuri already had a clear image of how his off-ice training block would go. He would forcefully jiggle the doorknob until the mechanisms loosened enough to unlock (thanks to years of Yuri impatiently harassing it), turn on the heater, check his social media while he stretched, and work on jumps before the class officially started. He had already perfected the art of ignoring his classmates while he was stretching, to the point where they learned not to bother socializing with him.

But leave it to Victor to disrupt his plan. “Dobroye utro, Yakov! Will you let Yura train with the senior skaters, today?”

The casual request was supposed to be met with a glare and interrogation, but this time, Victor’s optimism was well-placed. Yakov considered the request while he stared down Yuri. Yuri instinctively took a step back when Yakov approached him. The coach’s eyes squinted like there was something off, something new that he hadn’t noticed before. He crossed his arms and stubbornly looked to the side. “This time, I will allow it, as a reward for your good behavior yesterday. This is no act of altruism, boy. Perhaps inspiration from some role models might reverse the horrid degradation of your ballet skills.”

Yuri stared blankly at his coach. “What the hell are you saying, old man?”

“Are you forgetting how to understand your own language, too? I’ll assign you a new tutor if you don’t brush up on a dictionary soon!”

He was dragged away to the senior skaters’ dance studio by Victor before he could defend himself. His day was getting stranger and stranger with each new block in his schedule, and it had something to do with his behavior from yesterday. He might know more if he simply pulled Victor aside and straight-up asked how he behaved yesterday. That was assuming Victor wouldn’t go off on a spiel about the significance of consent in romantic relationships (which was still important but not relevant in this circumstance). Adding the event of investigating the mystery would make his day longer, though, and the mystery was already draining Yuri as it was.

Yuri took great pride in his belief in consequentialism. If going against his routine and adding quads didn’t cost him a gold medal, then he shouldn’t be yelled at for it. Likewise, if he was reaping rewards from yesterday despite not remembering what quite happened, then he shouldn’t worry about it. The past couldn’t be changed. If it could be, he would’ve gladly changed it so that he won gold at every competition he had ever competed in, no matter how many tries it took.

He followed Victor to the senior skater’s dance studio without any further fusses and turned off his phone. He wouldn’t need any alarms to keep him on track with his long, immaculate schedule for the rest of the day. He had stepped into an alternative version of what his day could be in another universe, led by Victor and spurred on by some amalgamation of anomalies that had accidentally accumulated without his knowledge. Apparently, a clean room, introduction lecture to puberty, and damaged reputation was the secret cheat code that unlocked the world of senior skaters.

Yuri stepped up the stairs behind Victor. The staircase was pitch-black beyond its initial entrance. He had only been on the second floor of the ice rink a few times, which was experience he was grateful for, otherwise he would have been concerned by the darkness swallowing him. Abandon all hope, all ye who enter, the old stairs creaked to him. The second floor of the ice rink was exclusive, literally and figuratively above the skaters who weren’t in the senior division, yet. The senior skaters called the second floor of the ice rink their home and where they slept and ate and showered their house. The ice was for all who were willing to pay a certain fee (monetary, mind you; families and lovers still skated on the rink when it wasn’t reserved), but the second floor was for those who could afford to keep paying. (With money, still. Competitive figure skating is just really expensive.)

Yuri was always a mere visitor when he used to stomp up the stairs to demand something from one of the senior skaters. Indeed, the second floor was a nice place to visit, but not a great place to stay because of how pesky he thought the senior skaters were. However, that was not to say any senior skater could claim the second floor as their home. The senior skaters weren’t significant in their rank as seniors, but as award-winners. Yuri was basically in their clique, already, and belonged on the second floor, already, but the female ballet class for junior skaters was on the first floor and Yakov would ban him from the ice if he didn’t attend.

It was then that Yuri discovered that he had no clue how the senior skaters’ off-ice practice went or how long it lasted. Of course he wasn’t scared or nervous about training alongside the senior skaters. It was just dark as hell, especially since there was an ugly curtain hiding the light of the second floor’s hallway at the top of the stairs.

“Oops! I forgot!” Victor suddenly exclaimed.

Yuri froze and waited for another weird thing to occur. Maybe he had to give Victor a coin he was supposed to get before he entered the rink to compensate for Victor’s guidance, and if he didn’t, he would have to aimlessly wander around in the dark staircase for a hundred years.

Victor quickly dashed to the very top of the stairs and flipped the switch. And Victor said, “Let there be light!” and there was light. Dim, yellow fluorescent light from a lightbulb that was at the end of its lifespan, but light, nonetheless. “Wouldn’t want you to trip on your first day training with us.”

Yuri flinched at the immediate downpour of clarity. He had no clue the stairs had light. Nobody else had ever used the lights, before. It seemed that they all knew each step by heart. “I think I like your face better with the lights off.” He continued his tread up the stairs. There were a lot less steps than he thought there were. He remembered the journey to the second floor being much more arduous, but that could have been because he was much smaller, back then.

Victor smiled down at him. “Did you know that approximately a thousand people die of falling down the stairs every year?”

“Shut up.”

The switch flicked off. “The percentage seems small, but I can make sure that there’s a 100% chance that you’ll be another name on that list…”

Yuri clung to the railing. He didn’t doubt that Victor would try to grab him in the dark to enhance the joke. “Victor, you idiot! Turn on the lights!”

The switch flicked on again. “Just kidding!”

Yuri had the mind to turn around and never look back as he marched towards the female junior skaters’ dance studio, because that was the easy route. It would have been consistent with his values, yet also a defiant act of injustice to his own personality. Victor’s death threat was an intimidation tactic and Yuri wasn’t afraid of Victor. Continuing up the stairs with the lights on surely had to be the right route for Yuri, otherwise he would reject a world he fit better in. He couldn’t return to his dull, albeit safe, reality because that would hurt his pride in the present and future.

Another part of Yuri’s brain said that he was overthinking his dilemma about the stairs. Victor always annoyed Yuri, and this was nothing new. Really, he was analyzing everything out of proportion. So he went up the stairs, followed Victor to the dance studio, and tossed his duffel bag to the side.

The senior skaters’ dance studio was designed similarly to the studios downstairs. The walls all had mirrors, obviously, and the floor was the same shiny hardwood. Mila and Georgi were already there. They took pride in the professionality and always preferred to be early. Their attention was drawn away from their phones as soon as Yuri entered the room.

Mila’s face lit up like a Christmas light. “Yuri! Can I braid your hair again?”

Again?

“I can do your makeup,” Georgi offered.

Yuri flipped them off and headed towards the farthest corner away from them. No more bullshit. He sat down and started with the butterfly stretch so he could open up his hips.

Georgi chuckled at the typical Yuri Plisetsky reaction. “Looks like he’s back to normal.”

Mila huffed and put her hands on her hips. “That’s so unfair! He was such a good boy yesterday! No mouthing off, no rude gestures, no disobedience…”

Yuri was starting to hate that word a lot. Yesterday. He took a deep inhale and leaned forward until he rested his cheek on the floor.

“No talent,” Georgi added.

Yuri also hated that the stupid senior skaters talked about him like he was deaf. If they were so early, they should be doing something more productive than talking shit behind his back within his obvious range of hearing. It didn’t even feel like they were talking about him, though. Yesterday’s Yuri sounded like they were talking about someone else entirely. He got up from his stretch and then laid his legs out straight in front of him, then bent over until his forehead was on his knees. With every exhale, he sank deeper into the stretch.

Victor came to his defense. “That’s not true! He just had a different style yesterday. He was even landing all of his quads consistently, even though he’s still not supposed to be doing them.”

“Come to think of it, that style reminded me of someone else,” Mila pondered. “It was very strong and bold...”

“Masculine,” Georgi agreed. He didn’t forget that Yuri was in the room. “Oy, Yuri, are you trying skate like someone else, now?”

Yuri was standing up and taking a deep lunge with his left leg in front of him. “Shut up! Let me stretch in peace!” He lost his patience and settled into a left splits as soon as his muscles felt adequately warmed up enough. He was satisfied when he was flat on the floor. Because he had to make his stretches “symmetrical”, he repeated the same process with his right side.

Victor was busy uploading a picture of Yuri stretching to Snapchat with the caption, Yakov finally let the Ice Kitten train with the big kids today! He thanked God (well, Yakov) for the ice rink’s incredibly fast and free Wi-Fi. “Yuri’s new role model is a lucky guy. I wish up-and-coming skaters would imitate me for inspiration…” In seconds, Victor’s lament quickly transitioned into excitement. “Hey, Yuri, let me be your teacher today! Call me ‘Vitya’ and get as much help from me as you need!”

Everyone was so focused on Yuri being “back to normal” that Victor’s recent strange behavior had gone under the radar. Victor had a strong contribution in the unusual day. Sex talk, death threat, and now a sudden interest in teaching. And all the strangeness seemed to be revolving around Yuri, for some reason. “What the hell? Are you horny, Victor?”

Georgi coughed out water that he had been drinking. Mila burst out into a loud, uncontrollable cackle.

The accusation confused Victor. “Why? Are you?”

“You keep trying to assert your dominance over me, idiot,” Yuri explained. First as a father figure, then as a psychopath, and now as a mentor.

Mila sought the bar lining the walls for better balance. “He’s fourteen, Victor! Control yourself!”

Georgi looked at Yuri skeptically. “Is that your go-to assumption, Yuri? You said the same thing when I was sad over a fight I had with Anya and when Mila hugged you after she broke up with her boyfriend.” Though, he did acknowledge that Yuri was onto something. “Wait, does that mean you feel lonely, Victor?”

Victor laughed even though he looked sad. “I would hope not. Doesn’t that seem too expected from someone like me?”

Yuri recognized that smile of his. It was the same one he had while he was standing on the podium when he won his latest gold medal. He had no idea what made Victor smile like that.

The conversation ended there when Yakov walked into the studio. “Why is the junior skater the only one stretching?”

Suddenly, the senior skaters were all off their phones and stretching.

The senior skaters’ off-ice training was infinitely more lax than the juniors’. It was mostly independent work with occasional critique from Yakov when he checked up on them since the coach was busy teaching a novice class. Each skater had claimed their own space to practice in, focused only on their own development.

Yuri was practicing jumps as soon as he was done stretching. He spun and twirled and jumped until he worked up a great deal of sweat. He leaned on a wall railing and eagerly chugged water between gasps of air. All the while, his eyes couldn’t leave his reflection. He kept staring long after his heart rate slowed down. He looked his lithe form up and down, then raised his leg behind his back so he could grab the back of his foot. He lifted his standing leg en pointe and reached his free hand towards the mirror. His fingers stretched longingly until he touched his reflection.

“This body is very light…” he said to himself. His body was ideal for a danseuse. If he wasn’t a figure skater, he surely would have been a prima ballerina. There was little else he could be, unless he decided that being hungry and homeless was appealing. It was his career that kept his family comfortable, his body…

He saw Victor come up behind him and push the knee of his raised leg forward, until it was fully straight. There weren’t many opportunities to sneak up behind someone in a room with mirrors lining the walls from top to bottom, unless the victim was extremely unaware.

“You said the same thing, yesterday. Tell me, what else would your body be other than light?”

Yuri flattened his foot, which deepened the position he was in so that his straight legs were exceeding 180 degrees. He couldn’t maintain the position for long en pointe, but he could stretch much farther with a flat foot. “I don’t know, maybe heavy?” Yuri proposed sarcastically. He continued that idea, though. “Heavy with muscles, I guess, like a bodybuilder. I wouldn’t want to take away my flexibility, though.”

Victor pushed Yuri’s leg farther. “You certainly have been fascinated with your own flexibility, as of late.” He rubbed Yuri’s calf. “I don’t blame you.”

In a moment of vulnerability, Yuri found the action comforting rather than creepy. He leaned forward more and wrapped his free hand around the railing so he could pull himself a little more deeper into the stretch. The position was still too comfortable for him. “Maybe that’s what I’ll be in my next life--some tough guy with muscles that does figure skating.”

Victor was getting scared of Yuri’s bones snapping in half, so he kept holding up Yuri’s leg and put a hand under Yuri’s chest, just in case. To his amazement, Yuri still managed to stretch farther. “You still want to figure skate in another life?”

“What else could I do?” Yuri responded, like there was no other life out there.

“Bodybuilding?” Yuri rolled his eyes at him through the mirror. Victor took it that Yuri had no real interest in such an activity other than for aesthetic purposes. “Okay, you can figure skate in all nine of your lives, kotyonok. I’m just surprised you believe in reincarnation.”

“Push more, Victor.” Yuri’s muscles were starting to burn, but it wasn’t enough. Victor only moved a centimeter, if at all. “I said more!” His legs may have been shaking a little, but it still wasn’t enough. He used his free hand to grab the back of his raised foot and gave some of his weight to Victor’s hand, which was holding his chest up.

The demand caught a brief glance from Mila.

Victor’s arms were starting to get tired. “Why don’t you call me ‘Vitya’ again?”

The only reason why Yuri complied with that stupid request was because it made sense to follow the unorthodox rhythm he was already plagued with and he couldn’t stretch farther without a partner to help him. It surely wasn’t because of some hidden quality as frivolous as affection deep within his heart, which fluttered involuntarily and not for anyone else. “Vitya, more--”

Victor had jerked away so suddenly that Yuri panicked and lost his balance because of his aching muscles. Yuri released his leg, which ended up kicking Victor’s face when he fell backwards. Victor quickly tried to compensate for his mistake by catching Yuri, but all he could do was break Yuri’s fall while he suffered the full brute force of landing on the hardwood floor plus Yuri’s weight.

Mila was able to Snapchat the entire moment, from “Vitya, more” to Yuri landing in Victor’s lap. She saved it to her phone before captioning it “that moment when partner stretching gets TOO intimate” and putting it on her story.

Yuri elbowed Victor in the gut and glared at him through the mirror. “Idiot! Why did you--HAH? Y-You’re bleeding!” Yuri scrambled off of Victor and wiped away the blood on his shoes. They were fairly new, too.

Victor’s hands were covering his nosebleed. Unbeknownst to the younger skater, being kicked in the face wasn’t the trigger, though it did exacerbate the situation. He had a stupid, blissful look on his face, regardless. “You’re still as cute as ever, kotyonok!”

“Useless old man!” Yuri cursed. He ran to the bathroom to get paper towels for Victor. “Just retire already!”

It was then that Yuri realized that he was destined to hate off-ice training no matter which group who was with. The females, the males, the seniors, the juniors--they all pissed him off.

I definitely want to skate as a tall, masculine guy in solitude when I get to my next life!

#kimi no na wa au #yuri!!! on ice #yoi #otayuri #otabek altin #yuri plisetsky #fanfic #this body is yours #chapter 1 #fun fact: i have about 4 chapters written out already #another fun fact: i need a beta

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ao3feed-victuuri · 8 years ago

Text

rivalry

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2k1tBv3

by wbtrashking (fan_nerd)

“Is that what you think it takes to win, Yura?” The silver-haired man steps into his young rink-mate’s space, grinning ill-temperedly. “Attempting to bring honor to Russia?”

“Well,” Yuri steps further into Victor’s space, refusing to budge one bit at the twenty-three-year-old’s provocation. “It’s gotta be better than looking pretty and managing to do exactly jack shit at competitions.”

Yuuri plays mediator to keep the two of them from getting into a fist fight.

Words: 3795, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 9 of body music (reverse au)

Fandoms: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Yuri Plisetsky

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov

Additional Tags: Role Reversal AU, reverse au, mid-series

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2k1tBv3

#ao3feed #fanfic #victuuri #victor nikiforov #katsuki yuuri #yuri!!! on ice #yuri on ice #yoi

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jainarepellista · 8 years ago

Text

Tower of God S2ch233 Rough Translations

Still no news about Wangnan's team from Emile?

You mean the yellow prince thing? I tried it but nothing showed up. / What the heck happened to them...

How about Hoaquin's copy?

She's hiding in a secluded place. / They'll never find her with Emile.

And even if Hoaquin does find her, the him right now will have difficulty absorbing her..

Yeah. Since the last copy's skills are like a ranker's..

So we're all ready to head out now?

But there's no Station here.. / How are we going down?

That's.....

What?! We're jumping!?

Are you crazy?! / We'll surely die if we jump down there!!

We won't die.

(You're noisy-)

That sea you're seeing is the blood flowing from the dead body of the Floor Guardian that Enryu killed. / Its blood is shinsoo itself. So you won't die even if you fall there.

We have to jump into that blood in order to enter the real Floor of Death.

That place sprung up from the dead body of the Floor Guardian that Enryu killed. / That's why this place is called the Floor of Death.

You should listen to her (lit. She's right.) / Regulars.

....?

That sea you're seeing is merely the shell of the Floor of Death.

Well.. Even I have never come here using this route / But it's true that we have to get inside the shell in order to see what the Floor of Death really is like.

Nobody can predict what will happen there..

So if we don't jump here, we won't see the truth.

43F Hell Train - Floor of Death - 02

Shit..

I just have to jump in there..

But no matter how I much I think that, it's just so difficult.

...Take it easy. / Just jump in first and once we've confirmed you didn't die, then we'll follow suit.

...How can you say something so scary like it's nothing?

Urgh.. I can't do this.

You're so gutless.

(Then I'll go first)

..You can go down, Boro.

...Hockney?!

You won't die even if you jump there. / That's just what you have to do if you want to enter the Floor of Death.

You're...?

Ah. He's the scout from the 40F Station that I told you before / David Hockney.

He was going around looking for his painting after we passed the Test.

Ah..! The Floor of Death native..!

I thought you said you weren't going to the Floor of Death..?

I changed my mind. I was talking with Emile yesterday..

and she said I could find my painting at the Floor of Death after two days. / That's why I'm going.

After two days.. at the Floor of Death? / D-Did Emile really tell you that!?

Yeah.

..David Hockney.

The mysterious scout from the Train's 40F. / And also a native of the Floor of Death..

It's logical to assume that Rachel wants to use him through Emile. / Though he doesn't seem to know it but..

Maybe we could use him in reverse.

If it's like that.. / then how about going with us?

If you're from the Floor of Death, then I don't think it's bad for us to go together, right?

..Thank you. / Then, are we departing now?

Ah actually.. / We're still waiting..

(There are still enemies in the Train..)

Why aren't you going and just staying here?

Ha Yura!!

You finally showed up!!

If you're going, then leave already. / We can't get out if you just stand there, you know?

...Shut up, we were waiting to capture you!! / We can't let you attack us from behind at the Floor of Death!!

.........?

Is Rachel inside that carrier?

Who is that person?

Yeah. Rachel-ssi is inside this carrier.

..........

...Then tell her to come out. / Do we really have to go to the Floor of Death to settle this?

(Let's finish this right here right now.)

Oh my- How confident you are / despite knowing that Hoaquin-nim is on our side-

Is it because of that bigshot behind you?

....?

Ah- why are you bothering us? (It feels good to be called a bigshot) / We can't attack regulars inside the Train. (You shouldn't be doing this.)

So don't worry about us.

Is she from the Ha Family..?

Ah~ Yes~ So I was worrying for nothing, big sis.

(Thank you~)

Well then- shall we get started with the deal?

...? / ...Deal?

Yes! To put it directly, we'll tell you "information on the piece of the Thorn" / and the whereabouts of your other companions!

And in exchange, let us get out of here safely.

Wha.. Information on the piece of the Thorn?!

And our other companions.. you mean Wangnan and the others!?

Yep. Isn't that a pretty good deal?

So. Make a choice.

Exchange information about the piece of the thorn and your companions- / or fight with us here-

Of course if you choose the latter, you will never get the piece of the thorn again.

.........!!

..Let's do it, Koon-ssi..

..Can't help it then..

Keep in mind.

That my lighthouse will attack you if you try to run away.

(Princess Yuri can attack you here too.)

..I got it. / But you have to release me if I give you information, alright?

Okay.

Then.. what information do you have about Wangnan-ssi?

Ah- You're asking that first?

They're hiding somewhere in the Train.

Actually, when you got out of the Train, I laid a trap using Emile for them.. / and they almost got caught in it.

But then, Cassano-ssi betrayed us to save Horyang-ssi. So they all got away.

R-really!?

Yeah. Even we were surprised. / Well, maybe you could meet again if you continue climbing the Tower?

(After you leave the Floor of Death, that is..)

Whew- thank goodness..

I heard that Cassano-ssi went out of the Train / So he really is going to save Horyang-ssi..

()

......... / Wait a sec, something's wrong.

If Wangnan really managed to escape safely, then why don't we have any news about them? / Besides, why is she making this deal and telling us all this?

Something definitely happened to them..!

.........

Now then- let's get to the main point..

About the piece of the Thorn.

...!

"The princess resembling the bottomless aquamarine, in her house you must go." (*깊은 물 빛을 닮은 I seriously had a hard time translating this part. A princess resembling the light/look of deep water? If someone has a better translation, please tell me)

"In that place where a three-stemmed waterfall flows" / If you walk through the crimson light in that place, you will find the piece of the Thorn.

...?

The princess resembling the bottomless aquamarine..?

That is the one and only clue we have.

We've been trying to find the piece of the thorn with only that.

What was that..? It's too abstract.

But we don't even know where that is out here. / So- Let us go now.

You're not thinking of suddenly going back on your word, are you?

..........

Well.. / Maybe?

.......

Koon-ssi..!!

Think carefully, Baam. There are a lot of weird things in that clue she gave. / In the first place, the fact that they're making this deal with us is already strange enough. Something must've happened with Wangnan.

I can't let them go just like this..!

Why are you all gathered here?

That guy is..?!

Karaka?!

I was going to leave quietly but then I see you all gathered here. / As if praying to be killed.

If you wish to die so badly, then I will grant you that request!!

That bastard-!!

Ack!!

Kuk-!!

What's this now..!

How are you still alive!!

You definitely died that time...!!

Who knows- / I might be immortal.

Bullshit!

Keuk!!

Regulars.

...?

Is "Hoaquin" inside that bag?

And is Rachel there with him too?

Wh-who are you?!

I am Karaka. / FUG's god.

.......!! / He's the one Hwa Ryun told me about..!

You're coming with me to the Floor of Death.

Follow me.

Where do you think you're going!!

Kyak!!

Tch-

The shinsoo has become unstable so it's hard to handle. / Is it because we're at the Floor of Death?

Jyu Viole Grace. / Do not think you can fool me just because you changed your hair.

You are coming with me too.

Baam!!

I can't avoid this..!!

Then it's better-!!

to break it..!!

Evan-!!

Are you alright?!

Good job, Evan!!

.........

That guide..

I guess I have to give up on taking him. / I'll proceed as I originally planned.

Tch....!! / I missed him.

T-thank you, Evan-ssi..

What were you planning on doing? / Your enemy is a ranker!! / Did you knock your head or something..!

......?

What the...?

Karaka's shinsoo...

is fading / away? (lit. disappearing little by little)

....Not yet.. / It's still not enough..

This guy..

What the hell did he learn in the Train?

#Tower of God #translations #S2ch233

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ao3feed-yurionice · 8 years ago

Text

rivalry

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2k1tBv3

by wbtrashking (fan_nerd)

“Is that what you think it takes to win, Yura?” The silver-haired man steps into his young rink-mate’s space, grinning ill-temperedly. “Attempting to bring honor to Russia?”

Yuuri plays mediator to keep the two of them from getting into a fist fight.

Words: 3795, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 9 of body music (reverse au)

Fandoms: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Yuri Plisetsky

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov

Additional Tags: Role Reversal AU, reverse au, mid-series

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2k1tBv3

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #yuri on ice

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handsingsweapon · 7 years ago

Note

prompt: victor falling asleep after a long, tiring day, and yuuri who's head over heels just watching his prince and tucking him in.

“It’s because Yakov likes suffering,” says Victor Nikiforov out of nowhere, directing his words into Katsuki Yuuri’s sternum, here in the middle of the nest Victor has built out of arms and legs and soft, soft stomach. (Yuuri is slightly uncomfortable and losing feeling in one elbow but this is fine.)

“’s a sadist,” Victor mumbles. Yuuri cards his fingers through Victor’s fine hair, smiles gently, advances Marth a square in the arena challenge he’s playing one-handed on his phone behind Victor’s back. He has a feeling he knows where this is going, but it’s worth watching Victor burrow and mumble, reduced from five-time world champion to the world’s most beautiful and most cuddly man-child, sprawled out on the sofa of their St. Petersburg flat. “He could reverse the entire training schedule,” Victor says. “Yura hates mornings, so when does Yakov train him? In the morning. You know who likes mornings?”

Yuuri smiles to himself. “You do, love.”

“I do,” Victor confirms, drowsily. For a moment he says nothing. Yuuri thinks he might have drifted off to sleep already, glances down to check the flutter of Victor’s pale lashes. “But I can’t practice then because Yakov hates joy.”

“Mhmm.” Yuuri thinks, in fact, he knows, that Yakov has arranged their schedule so that he and Yurio are on the ice at around the same time: it’s a competitive motivator, and Yurio’s howls of things like gross keep Victor from getting too distracted by Yuuri’s latest choreography. Granted, those sessions could be in the afternoon, after Victor’s practice in the morning, but then Victor’s mood might be different: in the cool light of morning, no matter how much he or Yurio dislike the schedule, everyone’s mind is empty and fresh.

“You don’t sound very sympathetic.” Victor grumbles.

“Your right hipbone is crushing my sympathy organs,” Yuuri retorts. The game’s battle won, he tosses his phone on the coffee table, wraps his arms around Victor’s shoulders. In turn, Victor shifts a little, moves his weight from all the places that are currently uncomfortable to new and exotic locales. This time Yuuri doesn’t complain. The fact that Victor lying in his arms is uncomfortable, the fact of his mid-century, aesthetic-over-comfort couch, the arm falling asleep tickle of his right shoulder, all of it is a reminder that this is real, that somehow Katsuki Yuuri is living a life in which he eventually marries the world’s prettiest man-child.

“Sorry,” murmurs Victor, who at least manages to sound a little bit contrite. Maybe he is. Just not contrite enough to move from where he’d more or less face-planted half an hour ago, sore and grumpy from afternoon practice. Fourteen quadruple flips, Yuuri. Fourteen of them.

Truth be told, Victor’s not exactly comfortable, either; Yuuri’s propped up a little bit on the arm of the couch and that makes the angle of Victor’s cheek against his chest sharper than is probably natural. He’s pretty sure if he sat up and turned his head at this point he’d hear a pop. But this is Yuuri, and Yuuri is real and solid inside of his apartment, resting on the very same couch Victor watched his video on nearly a year ago. When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt is a line from some children’s book he read ages ago; he’s too tired to remember which one, at this exact moment. He had something important to tell Yuuri, though. What was it?

Ah, yes. “… Love you,” Victor huffs. Yuuri’s chest is uncomfortable like this but the fresh curl of his fingers against the base of Victor’s skull is paradise.

“Come on, Vitenka.” Yuuri shifts, Victor protests. “If you’re going to take a nap, take it in bed.”

“You coming?” He lets Yuuri help him to his feet, wraps an arm over Yuuri’s shoulders. Christophe has started texting Victor pictures every time he catches them in a photo together like this: I bet you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself for even a day, Victor.

Shut up. He’s precious, I love him )’:

“Of course,” says Yuuri, who leads Victor into their bedroom, stretches out alongside him as Victor climbs under the sheets. Victor makes him come along, twines a leg through Yuuri’s, presses a sleepy kiss in the general direction of Yuuri’s jaw. Yuuri props himself up on an elbow, and Victor closes his eyes to the soothing brush of Yuuri’s fingertips along his side. “Go to sleep.” The line between reality and his dreams is exceptionally faint: somewhere on one side of the veil between these two worlds, Katsuki Yuuri presses a kiss to Victor Nikiforov’s temple and says something like I love you too.

Yuuri’s phone is still on the coffee table. He doesn’t miss it.

#ficlet #victuuri #asksimanything

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yoireverse · 8 years ago

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homecoming - p1

((hi everybody!! welcome back to the rev au!! always wonderful to talk with you all and i hope you’re having a wonderful time here!! bc i sure am. :’) anyways, here’s this installment. enjoy! ♥♥♥ part 2 to come soon!))

summary: When Victor and Yuuri announce that they’re going to vacation in Japan for a week in the summer, they don’t expect their teenaged rink mate to come stomping up to them after practice.

“I’m coming too,” Yuri Plisetsky snarls. “No way I’m letting you two go overseas for secret practice sessions or something. What time is your flight?”

Yuuri sighs when he gives him an answer. It’s good that his family home is an inn. word count: 2k+ rating: t ✮read on ao3 | ✮series on ao3 | ✮reverse fics | ✮reverse art →my personal blog | →em’s art blog!

Yuuri and Victor glance at the calendar to find the best dates for a vacation and book their tickets early in January. Tourism will reach a bit of a lull in Hasetsu in the summer, skating season will be briefly reprieved, and this gives them plenty of time to see the city, and for Yuuri to finally introduce his fiancé to his family.

Since he’s a fairly old-fashioned person, it feels a little bit silly that this will be the first time Victor’s met Hiroko, Toshiya, and Mari, but hey. He’d tripped into his romance with the other skater in St. Petersburg, and the two of them have proven that there’s nothing wrong with being unconventional.

As the trip gets closer in April, the two of them discuss what kinds of clothes to pack. Victor reties his ponytail absently, talking about swimsuits, and then Yuri skates over and skids to a stop between the taller skaters.

“Rumor has it that you’re headed to Japan,” the teenager says, turning his head to spend equal amounts of time glaring at Yuuri and Victor. “I want details.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes at the blonde. “We’re going to my parents’ place for a week or so. They live in a small town, but, hey. It’s home.”

“I’m so excited!” Victor leans over and clasps his hands together against his chest. “We’re going to have so much good food. I’ll get to meet Yuuri’s family. It’s going to be fantastic.”

There is a beat of silence before Yuri snarls, “I want in.” The older men blink at him as he kicks the blade of his skate into the ice.

Victor raises a brow at the blonde, tossing an arm over Yuri’s shoulder. “What’s this? Just yesterday you were whining about much you hated staying on our couch, and now you want to go on vacation with us? Yura, you silly boy! Why didn’t you just say you wanted to spend more time together?”

At the teasing tone, Yuri snarls and Victor’s coach sighs, gently pulling them apart so that they can’t knock each other over on the ice. “Yura, if you want to go, I’ll email you the flight details. Did you want me to get you a ticket?”

“No,” Yuri grumbles, pushing off with a flick of his wrist. “I can pay for myself, fluffy. No way I’m letting you two go off to practice in secret. Get back to work, losers!”

Yuuri sighs with a small smile. “When is he going to admit that he loves being around us?”

Victor shrugs, kissing Yuuri quickly on the cheek. “Probably when he’s thirty-two. He’s like fine wine - much improved with age.”

The older man snorts at the comparison, agreeing quietly.

The three of them land in the airport, take the train to Hasetsu, and relax until they unload. Yuri and Victor look around in awe, even though both of them have had competitions in Japan, this kind of experience is different. Both of the visitors take in the landscape until they make their way to the port town. When they arrive at the quiet little station, Yuuri is momentarily embarrassed to remember that his home town pays high favor to his image.

Posters line every wall of Hasetsu station, and Yuuri pushes his student and the teenager out of there in a hurry, blushing and refusing autographs under his breath.

Victor digs his heels in, though, determined to take a selfie in front of the posters with the real Yuuri beside him. “You look so charming in this photo! Imagine all the press we’ll get once I tweet that we’re here together.” Yuri sticks out his tongue at them and Yuuri refuses, dragging both of them aboveground before people can flock over and bombard him with questions.

The trouble of being an internationally renowned athlete from a small town is that there is no place to escape from his notoriety here. As soon as the three of them are aboveground, Yuuri is startled to find his old ballet instructor waiting for him with her small car.

“Yuuri!” Minako says, twirling around with a banner that reads Welcome Home in kanji. “It’s great to see you!”

He laughs awkwardly, willing his heartbeat to slow down. He’d expected to have to flag down a cab, but this is certainly more convenient. “Minako-sensei,” Yuuri politely bows to her, barely refraining from speaking Japanese. “I’m home.”

Minako chatters to Yuuri in battered English until they make it to the inn. Victor joins in at irregular intervals and she drives along with a chipper tone. Once she drops them off at the inn, Toshiya and Hiroko come to the landing; Yuri and Victor have to hold back their laughter as Yuuri motions to the couple.

He doesn’t even have to tell the blonde and the silver-haired man who they are.

Yuuri, with his soft cheeks and dimpled smile, looks just like his mother and father, albeit significantly slimmer than either of them.

As soon as everyone says their hellos and Yuuri plays translator for a few minutes, he furrows his brow and chirps for a time before eventually moving his guests to their bedrooms. Yuuri has to pry Victor out of his mother’s hands. The woman is so busy patting Victor down and playing with his hair that her son has to murmur reprimands.

Toshiya stands around watching the madness with a smile. Yuri eventually stamps his feet with frustration, spurning the eventual movement to the upper floors.

Yuuri and Victor slump on the single bed in the older skater’s somewhat barren room. There are a few posters up of dogs, but otherwise the place doesn’t look lived in. This is unsurprising, since Yuuri hasn’t lived in the room for years.

Both skaters share a look before they flop onto the mattress. Yuri stomps over after Mari shows the teenager to his room, almost walking in on the murmuring couple kissing. He gags and points to Yuuri, asking, “Where’s the bathroom? I wanna get washed up.”

“Yura,” Yuuri grunts, falling into the soft pile of Victor’s hair on the narrow space of his bed. “It’s public and it’s downstairs. Can’t this wait?”

The blonde snarls, “There’s no way I’m going into that open-air bath. Find me as soon as you wake up!” He slams the door shut when he leaves.

Once he’s gone, the men sigh and fall asleep, momentarily rolling their eyes at Yuri’s melodramatic entrance and exit.

In the evening, Yuuri ambles downstairs with a yawn. He’s put on clothes from his teenage days, which still fit, for the most part. Luckily, he’d always been fond of oversized t-shirts and sweatpants. Yuuri helps his sleepy fiancé into a jinbei before they head to the living room. He teaches Victor how to sit properly - not that it matters. Yuuri doesn’t expect Victor to sit with perfect posture, and, in fact, he tells his parents that they should let Victor do his own thing once they sit at the table.

Yuri emerges from his room looking as sleepy as the older couple. Victor and Yuuri greet him while Hiroko brings familiar dishes. The teenager sits angrily, and asks, “So, where’s the bath?”

“Shh,” the legendary skater shushes him with a wave, already nervous enough. “We’ll eat first. Besides, I need to talk to my parents.” He’s mentioned the engagement to Mari already, and he’s sure that his mother’s sharp eyes have noticed the band on his right hand.

Dinner begins around seven. Yuuri tries to teach the messy blonde how to eat with chopsticks properly, and is slapped for his efforts, which just makes Victor pouty. He curls up against Yuuri pretty quickly, making the older man jolt at the shock. Mari quirks an eyebrow at her baby brother, who is flushing.

Yuuri snaps to attention, cheeks hot. He bends into a bow that shakes Victor off of his shoulders for a minute and surprises his guests. “Sorry about the sequence of events, but I’m getting married. To a man. This one, to be specific.” He shakily lifts his hands as he points to Victor, who senses the gravity of the situation and grows still. “This is Victor. My, um. My fiancé.”

“Mm,” Hiroko murmurs, smiling softly as she puts her chopsticks down. “I knew you looked different. Does he make you happy?”

“Yeah…” Yuuri drawls, turning even more red. Victor flushes a bit at his gentle expression, wondering what Yuuri’s parents could be saying that’s making him so nervous. “He does.”

Toshiya snickers. “Who cares, then? Where will you live?”

“Good question,” Yuuri mumbles. He turns to Victor and coughs awkwardly. Mari and Yuri oversee the interaction with a sort of sick amusement. “Um, sorry. My parents are asking where we want to live, like. After we get married.”

Victor hums for a moment, grinning. “I don’t care, Yuuri. Wherever you like.”

Yuri snaps to attention at that. “What? You grew up in Saint Petersburg, and now you want to leave Russia? Fuck that.”

The silver-haired skater rolls his eyes. “I’m going to be retired, Yura. Why does it matter where I make roots?” Yuri clenches his fists and stands up, opening and closing his mouth rapidly. Yuuri moves to calm him down, but Victor grabs his partner’s wrist quickly. “It’s not an obligation for me to stay in Russia. Who knows? What if I fall in love with this town?”

The teenager stomps out of the room, making the Katsuki family stare at him with concern. Still, Victor puts on his business smile and bows to Yuuri’s parents, taking his partner’s hand and hoping that he conveys his sincere emotions.

Yuuri finishes introductions while feeling slightly removed.

Once Mari, Hiroko, and Toshiya have welcomed Victor with food and drinks, Yuuri slinks away, leaving the four of them to awkwardly communicate.

Meanwhile, Yuuri adjusts his glasses and goes to find the teen he shares a name with. He finds Yuri scowling in the hallway outside of the shower room, squatting and fuming. For a long moment, the older skater just stands there, waiting for the blonde to open room for discussion.

After a few minutes, Yuuri says, “If you don’t want to use the public bath, we can draw a bath for you in a private room.”

Yuri snorts. “Not in the mood. I think I’ll just shower in the morning.”

Yuuri stands there next to him, watching the anxious rage on Yuri’s face fade to a confused pout. Once he feels confident that the blonde is going to be alright, he moves to go to the changing room and is startled to be tugged backwards.

“Where are you going?”

The brunette lifts an eyebrow. “To change and take a bath. Did you need something?”

He scuffles around for a moment. “Without Victor? Aren’t you two inseparable or something?”

Yuuri chuckles, closing his eyes. “I think we can bathe separately. Victor’s still talking to my parents, somehow. Mari speaks a little English, so they’re probably working it out.” Green eyes flick back and forth, studying the older man. Yuri finally loosens his grip, doggedly following behind the legendary skater. Yuuri is ready to peel off his t-shirt when he sees that the teenager is still next to him. “I’m going to the open-air bath. I thought you didn’t want to go.”

“It’s authentic, right?” Yuri grumbles. Under his breath, he continues, “And Victor’s busy, so it’ll be quiet.”

After a pause, Yuuri begins to laugh. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. Follow me. I’ll show you around, then.”

When Victor hears that Yuri and Yuuri had taken a bath together, he rolls his eyes. Furthermore, Hiroko tells him that Yuuri is already back in his room, asleep, and Victor pouts.

The information just makes Victor even more determined to traverse the city for the next week, learning as much as he can. After he bathes and meets Yuuri in the bedroom, stubbornly kissing his coach’s cheek while he’s asleep, he dreams of all the adventures they’ll have, and how many pictures he can sneak of Yuuri casually enjoying himself in his hometown.

#txt #mod: ash #reverse fic #yoi #tbc!

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yoireverse · 8 years ago

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rivalry

((hello everyone, and welcome back to the reverse au!! ♥♥♥ i’ve been savin’ this fic for a rainy day. this is dedicated to everyone who wanted to know what yuri plisetsky’s relationship was with victor + yuuri in the rev au. i hope you all enjoy this! ♥)) summary: “Is that what you think it takes to win, Yura?” The silver-haired man steps into his young rink-mate’s space, grinning ill-temperedly. “Attempting to bring honor to Russia?”

word count: 3.7k rating: t ✮read on ao3 | ✮reverse au fics | ✮reverse au art →my tumblr | →em’s art blog

“It’s not that you’re out of shape, so much,” Yuuri says, humming while he runs his hands over Victor’s back. The younger man stands shock-still while tan hands run over his spine, color creeping over the bridge of his nose. “Still, your posture leaves a bit to be desired. Have you ever taken dance?”

Victor thinks back to the hellish days where Yakov had dragged him to a variety of dance studios, trying to find his niche. He’d been horrid at hip-hop, somewhat decent at tap and ballroom, and eventually, alright at ballet. Victor had been flexible enough, but Lilia had not liked him, hadn’t liked how Victor had refused to take instruction without asking questions. Besides, Yakov and Lilia had a bit of a falling out in his adolescence, so Victor had focused more on his technical elements and let the performance piece come second.

Thinking back, the lack of dedication to his PCS is probably why he hadn’t made it to the Grand Prix final until he was in his twenties. “Yeah, a couple, but it’s been a long time.” Victor thinks back to the last proper ballet lesson he’d taken. He’d been no older than fourteen, so it’s almost been ten years. Yuuri fixes him with a look, so Victor sighs in the middle of his stretches. “A very long time.”

“Anything you’re particularly comfortable with?” Yuuri’s hands burn on Victor’s shoulders, and the younger man feels slightly flustered. He tosses a glance over his shoulder at his coach, with his soft cheeks and his dark, windswept hair, casually combed back. “Victor?”

Mila snickers from afar, so Victor coughs and regains his composure. “I’m down to learn anything if it’ll take me to the podium.”

“Hmm.” Yuuri gives him a look up and down, then nods. “Alright. Let’s do some conditioning first. Yoga will help loosen you up, and then we’ll move through some core ballet movements, since that’s my dance background. Sound good?”

Victor’s heart races at the thought of Yuuri’s hands on his waist, his soft, steady voice lulling while the Japanese man steadies his pupil. He would faint on the spot, but his Russian rink-mates are all staring at him with various degrees of amusement and annoyance.

“Yep,” the twenty-three-year-old replies with a dry throat. They stay at the rink until everyone else has cleared out, Yakov leading his trail of all-stars out with a gruff clap. Once Yuuri feels like Victor has exhausted himself, they pack up and look things up online.

“How about this studio?” Yuuri flicks through the listings while Victor yawns, blue eyes squinting at the low glow of his coach’s phone. “It seems like it’ll be pretty affordable, and we’d be able to have some time to ourselves.”

The silver-haired skater gulps. He’s not entirely sure how well he’ll fare with the beautiful Japanese man being the only other person in the ballet room, surrounded by mirrors and Yuuri’s soft, crisp needling. He flushes hot and murmurs, “Yeah, we could check it out,” turning his face a bit so the five-time gold medalist doesn’t see that he’s losing his mind.

“I’ll give them a call in the morning, then,” Yuuri says, his tongue poking cutely out of his mouth while he jabs the touch screen and saves the location. Victor keeps stealing glances, because his idol is adorable, but he’s not fully comfortable with how much he wants to make a move on the older man just yet.

Yuuri’s only been coaching him for a month or so. Victor may have low impulse control, but even he’s not that bad. The two of them wander back to Victor’s apartment, where Yuuri sleeps on the roll-out futon despite Victor’s insistence that the older man take the bed.

Both of them eat a quiet dinner, Yuuri taking charge of the shopping and cooking while he stays with Victor. The younger man watches him move, as fluid in domesticity as he is on the ice. Victor blows hair out of his face.

Their plates are full of lean meat and green vegetables. Yuuri clasps his hands together, bows his head over the plate, and picks up a fork. Victor watches the Japanese man in awe, trying to shake the idealistic fog out of his mind. “So,” Yuuri starts speaking softly, patiently chewing his dinner before smiling at his new student. “Have you been thinking about your short program?”

Just like that, the happy bubble around Victor bursts. He pouts and stabs the chicken breast, feeling a little annoyed. “I mean, I guess so? Just, um…” Yuuri keeps cutting his food neatly and Victor huffs. “I wanted it to be sort of...unexpected. I really wanted to focus on being more fluid, like you.”

“The ballet lessons will help a lot, Victor.” Yuuri puts on his teaching voice and the younger man groans again. “Any ideas for your theme?”

Yuuri Katsuki is My Coach and I’m Kind of Dying, Please Send Help - that’s what he really wants to say, but that’s long-winded and awkward. “I’m thinking something about...renewed vigor for life. Something moving, like passion! I would say that my work thus far has been very cold, and I want to avoid that.”

“That’s a great start,” Yuuri says with a gentle smile, taking a long sip from his glass of water. “If you’re not up for brainstorming right now, we can put it off for later. I’ll work on the coordination of your short program; you’ll work on your flexibility. How’s that sound?”

Victor sighs airily, grinning back at his coach. “Sounds great.”

Yuuri-the-ice-skating-coach is a bit of a taskmaster, but he still balances their time well, skating just as much as Victor does and running him through the proper motions as they stand side by side on the ice.

Yuuri-the-ballet-instructor is relentless. “We’re going to run through the basic positions again, and watch your arms. Fully pointed toes, Victor!”

Victor is sweaty and frustrated and it is excessively difficult to bend his legs as far as Yuuri would like him to. “Yes!” He snaps back eagerly, trying to maintain his pace and force his legs to obey. They sweat out the hours on the balance beam after his conditioning is done, then they figure out how the moves will translate to his performance on the ice.

Eventually, Victor figures out a dance that makes him feel like he’s passing through water. His arms hurt, his feet hurt - everything is in pain, but the dance is graceful. Yuuri’s limbs steady him when he falters those first few days, just like Yuuri had kept Victor aligned with the balance beam. “You’ve done this your whole life,” the olive-skin man reminds him, taking a moment to skate off and push his flyaway hairs away from his face. “You’re just adding something new to the routine. Yeah?”

Victor huffs, putting his hands on his knees and drinking in the proud look of Yuuri’s attentive eyes. “Yeah.” Victor pulls himself up and puffs out his chest.

The two of them aren’t the last ones in the rink this time.

Yuri Plisetsky is waiting for them, tugging his skate guards on with a scowl. “Oy,” the teenager sidles over with his hands in his pockets. “Aren’t you assholes supposed to flirt and do all that gross stuff after you leave?”

Yuuri gives him a blank stare, not sure whether he should be laughing or gaping at the young man. “Uhh?”

Victor scowls at his rink-mate. “Yura. We’re not flirting.” As much as I wish that we were, Victor mentally laments, but for the time being, he narrows his eyes. “If you pay attention, you’ll see that much like you, Georgi, and Mila are practicing routines with Yakov, Yuuri and I are working on a short program for the season. Stop acting like a child.”

“I am a child,” Yuri snarls back, unafraid to step into Victor’s face while he crosses his arms over his black turtleneck. “You and your superstar sweetheart are getting all cozy and it’s distracting. Yakov lets you go because he favors you, but I’m going to bring glory back to our country.”

Yuuri looks at Victor, points to himself, and mouths “Superstar?” Victor groans, starting to get very annoyed with the blonde.

“Is that what you think it takes to win, Yura?” The silver-haired man steps into his young rink-mate’s space, grinning ill-temperedly. “Attempting to bring honor to Russia?”

Yuuri watches Victor’s thinly-veiled rage bubble to the surface before patting his and Yuri’s shoulders, nervously trying to calm them both down. Yuri snarls at the Japanese man, grabbing the arm of his sweater and almost forcing Yuuri to fall on the ice. Victor nearly snaps. “Oy! If you’re going to spend so much time on useless over here, why don’t you at least practice by yourself? All Victor’s going to do is fawn over you anyways, since he can’t figure out what he wants to do for a short program.”

Brown eyes study the hard edges of the Russian teenager’s green eyes. “Well, we are having problems finalizing a concept for the SP,” Yuuri quietly murmurs. “How about this? I could show both of you some routines I was playing with before my break, if you like.” When he says the words, Yuuri is careful to keep his expression even and keep his eyes locked with Yuri Plisetsky’s. After he watches the boy’s look soften, he turns to Victor, who reels back as if he’s been slapped. “It’ll be a good change. Who knows, Victor? If one of these programs speaks to you, you’re welcome to use it this season.”

“What about me?” Yuri snarls. “You’re just gonna make me watch you skate and hope I feel something?”

“Nope,” Yuuri softly replies, laughing slightly. “You can skate the other program. That way, you both get equal time in the rink, and nobody feels jilted. How’s that?”

Victor and Yuri share a dry look. After a moment, the silver-haired man mutters under his breath. “I’m good with that, but I think Yura here is looking for a challenge.” Victor draws himself to his full height, towering well above the blonde while his new coach stands there, scowling a bit at Victor’s theatrics. “Let’s take this one step further. I pick one of your short programs. Yura picks the other one, and then, we have a battle!” Mila, Georgi, and Yakov turn at his proclamation. Yuuri groans and rolls his eyes when Victor points at the teen. “I’ll only do it on those terms!”

“You’re on, asshole,” Yuri snarls back, putting his hands on his hips. “Oy, Yakov! The rink’s ours for the next hour, okay?”

Yakov yells profanities back in response, refusing adamantly. Yuuri is sheepish as he asks for permission more formally, and the older man grumbles and gives in.

Yuuri starts talking about the music as he skates to the center of the rink. His glasses are folded in their usual spot, and he asks Victor to press play.

The first song starts off slowly. It’s a melodic piece, an arrangement of Chopin’s Aeolian Harp, easy to imagine birds glancing over water as the piano keys are tickled. Yuuri’s body is a soft masterpiece, carved from years of effort in the sport, spine bowing gracefully as he dips low to the ice, pinkies glancing just over the surface of it. He pulls his whole body into a spin at the finale, arms crossed over his abdomen as he stops.

Victor and Yuri are both breathless as the older man gasps for air. Both of them clap absently while Yuuri gets a drink of water, and as soon as he’s ready to get back into things, he gestures for Victor to turn the music back on.

The second time, Yuuri begins by slowly lifting his face, spreading his fingers widely and dragging them away like they’re being pulled by someone unseen. This arrangement of Soleá de la Luna Coja is full of low heat; the performance is a flamenco at the core. His moves speak to the fluidity of his background in ballet, of how much subtle eroticism he can produce with all four of his limbs, his expression so far from Yuuri’s demure, homely voice and gentle liveliness that Victor can hardly focus.

“Hey,” Yuri snaps at Victor, who is flushing slightly while his young coach is knocking excess ice off of his blades. “Victor! Come back to earth.” Yuuri skates over, slicking his hair back and putting on his glasses, moving to adjust his gloves a bit while he steps off of the rink. Victor’s jaw drops a bit, realizing all over again that Yuuri is soft and real and here. In St. Petersburg. To teach him. “God, you’re hopeless. Focus! You have to pick one of those programs.”

Victor doesn’t want to. He just wants to watch Yuuri dance on the ice some more. Sighing softly, he looks at Yuuri’s expectant expression and pulls himself together, toying with the ends of his ponytail. “The first one is very me, but I admit that I was more enchanted by the second program.”

“Let’s try it out, then.” Yuuri gives the blonde a look with his arms outstretched, his smile welcoming. “Yuri, we’ll practice together as soon as Victor starts learning his motions, okay?”

“Whatever,” Yuri mutters his response, leaving the two men alone to discuss movements and Victor’s growing capability to do all the things Yuuri had just showed him, even if his ballet posture isn’t perfect.

When Yuri spends time with the Japanese man, he is daunted by Yuuri’s seemingly boundless stamina. For all that Yuuri blusters and stammers, easily embarrassed and even easier to goad into a witty argument, he’s a good coach. His pointers help Yuri visualize the program in a way that is novel to him.

He refuses to admit this, but Yuri sometimes thinks that he’d like to fully switch from Yakov coaching him to Yuuri’s leadership.

Not only would Yuuri be good for his development as a skater, it would piss Victor off to high hell, so the thought alone makes the blonde snicker.

The next month is torturous. Yuuri works his two pupils to the bone most nights. His level voice and lilting comments scathe Victor and Yuri more than Yakov’s yelling ever had. The rink opens for a public display the evening that both of them will unveil their SP’s.

Yuuri sits and watches patiently from the sidelines. Victor itches to be close to him, so he closes his blue eyes and tries to remember all those nights he had fantasized about doing something as outlandish as skating with Yuuri Katsuki as his coach and choreographer.

His idol looks up at him and grips Victor’s hands. “Hey,” Yuuri reminds him, looking a bit close to panic himself since Victor appears as though he’s ready to fall over. “You’re going to do great, you know? Yuri’s excellent, of course, but he’s fifteen. Go show him what you can do.”

The blonde has just stunned an audience to silence with a performance graceful enough to be put into Swan Lake, but Victor gulps and nods his head.

As soon as he takes center stage on the ice, he remembers something that his Japanese coach has told him a hundred times since he’d flown to Russia to teach him.

Remember who’s watching you, Victor, Yuuri often says, long lashes framing his dark eyes. Don’t forget why you’re out there.

Victor is here to turn his body into a work of art that’s worth writing whimsical lyrics about.

He sucks in a deep breath. Victor knows he can do this. He’ll never be as incredible as his mentor, but he doesn’t have to be. Yuuri’s been teaching him how to move, been pouring into him, been cooking his meals, been sleeping on his couch, has been real and warm and everything Victor hadn’t known that he needed.

That night is a blur, but Mila shakes Victor immediately after he skates. She talks his ears off.

“That was incredible,” the redhead yells at Victor. Victor’s blue eyes are out of focus and he keeps searching for Yuuri, sad when he sees that his coach is too far away to touch. “I didn’t know you had it in you! You could absolutely win gold for that, Victor.”

His blonde rink-mate is absent as well, probably sulking, if the performance is as great as the deafening roars of the crowd would lead him to believe. Victor swallows dryly, searching for something to say, and then Yuuri sidles next to him like he had never left.

“Give him a minute to breathe,” Yuuri murmurs kindly, brushing shoulders with Victor. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Mmhm,” Victor mumbles back, barely resisting his natural urge to grab his coach’s hand and leech his warmth. They walk closely on the way back to the apartment, Yuuri noting parts of his program that need improvement. Victor rolls his eyes and unlocks the door, both of them tumbling onto the couch in a mess of limbs.

Yuuri laughs breathlessly, fingers tangling in Victor’s messy bun.

The Japanese man waits a beat, then he says, “You did it.”

Yuuri’s hands are incredibly calloused, even though Victor had been dreaming of how soft they could have been, being attached to someone as lovely and sweet as Yuuri. Then again, of course they are. Yuuri is a world-class athlete.

“Apparently so,” Victor mumbles back, snuggling further into Yuuri’s warmth while the other man allows him to be so close.

“You don’t remember?” Victor shakes his head and Yuuri laughs. The sound sticks in Victor’s chest and he gulps, cheeks flushing. The younger man buries his head in Yuuri’s lap to hide the tint of his face. “Well, it was amazing. One of your best performances, hands-down.”

Yuuri’s nails dig into Victor’s scalp absently and the younger man sighs in happiness. “I’m glad, then.”

Bashfully, the older man hums and asks, “What were you thinking about out there?”

“You,” Victor answers, closing his eyes and trying not to let his heart leap out of his chest. Yuuri’s eyes; Yuuri’s words; Yuuri’s delightful addiction to royal blues - Victor’s had Yuuri on the brain since he was ten years old, and it’s a hard habit to break. “It’s always you.”

When Victor looks up, he finds that Yuuri seems surprised.

The olive-skinned man colors deeply, sputtering and tearing his hand out of Victor’s hair. “Oh!” Yuuri yelps and adjusts Victor’s head in his lap so that there’s a bit of space between them. Victor whines. “Uh. I guess. I guess I should’ve known that, huh?”

Yes, Victor thinks, deadpan, but on the surface, he’s deeply entertained by Yuuri’s embarrassment. They’ve been at press conferences for events in the past where Victor’s said more shameful things about his idol, and this is what strikes Yuuri? Unbelievable.

“Whatever you thought about,” Yuuri eventually says, clearing his throat. “You did an amazing job out there. We’re gonna polish that and work on your FS from now on, because if you keep that up, you’ll take gold at the GPF for sure.”

These are big words, certainly, but Victor’s head is filled with the heady taste of victory over the blonde teenager they share a rink with. With this elation, Victor quickly exclaims, “Let’s do it,” and Yuuri grins back at him.

It’s a promise.

Yuri slams his bag down on the bench where Victor is lacing up his boots. Yuuri is already at the rink side, chatting with Yakov, so there’s not a chance that anyone responsible is going to stop the little shit from mouthing off to Victor.

“This isn’t over,” Yuri mutters angrily, pointing at the silver-haired man. “You think you and your crush are going to one-up me, but the playing field is even. He choreographed a program for me too. I’m going to make my mark with my free skate, so watch out.”

When Victor reads between the lines, his blonde teammate is almost sort of cute. “I get it, Yura. I look forward to whatever you come up with, okay? Let’s both try our best.” Victor pads off to the rink with his guards on, waving to Yuuri as the teenager behind him sits down and scoffs.

“I like it better when you’re acting more like a confident asshole than a depressed one,” Yuri mutters quietly.

Victor laughs lowly, fidgeting with his bun. “Yeah. Me too, Yura.” Victor takes his blade covers off while chatting calmly with his coach, and Yuuri gives him a soft smile.

Yuri Plisetsky just watches them, wondering if they know how affectionate everything they do is, if their soft, private smiles and gently touching cheeks say more than they ever will in words.

Victor’s an idiot, but Yuuri is helping the Russian man step up his game, polishing his form with every touch.

From the sidelines, Georgi scoffs, Victor and Yuuri’s intimacy tugging at his heartstrings. “This year is going to be tough.”

“Yes, it is,” Yakov gruffly comments. “So get your head in the game, Georgi. You can’t just whine and preen - you have to compete with that, so focus.”

“Yeah, focus,” Mila says, snickering as she skates towards Yuri and sticks her tongue out at the dark-haired Russian skater. “Don’t want the lovebirds to totally ruin your heartbroken fairy tale SP.”

“It is an emotionally engaging and enrapturing piece, Mila!” Georgi cries.

Yakov groans, watching all the madness in his rink with a distraught expression.

Still.

When he lets his eyes wander, he finds Victor smiling far more openly than he’s seen the man smile in years, and privately, he’s satisfied.

Victor usually seeks validation and worth out on the ice, trying too hard and kicking himself when he doesn’t achieve the greatness he so desperately wants to display. The Katsuki boy is good for him; he shows Victor that there is no one way to make it to the podium, and if Victor must pine over the older man like a fool to realize that, then Yakov is happy.

At one point, Victor had been like a son to him, after all. Even if, as a coach, they are on opposing sides now, Yakov still hopes that Victor will stand tall and prove his worth as the phenomenal skater Yakov knows that he can be.

This season is going to be fun, Vitya, Yakov thinks to himself, hiding a smile behind his hand as Yuuri chides Victor’s step sequence for the third time that day.

#txt #yoi #reverse au #reverse fic #mod: ash

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yoireverse · 8 years ago

Text

sick day

((hello again, my friends. i come bearing more fluff, hahaa, because i am obsessed. ♥♥♥ this takes place abt 2 months after sleepyhead.))

summary: Victor is the first to get sick, and Yuuri responsibly makes soup. The next day, both of them text Yuri Plisetsky to let him know that they are dying.

Later, Yuuri coughs and manages to send the teenager an SOS message. We need crackers and nail polish remover. I will give you 600 rubles. You're our only hope.

When Yuri finally makes it to their place, face mask secured on his ears, he chokes at the scent of death inside and rolls his eyes at the sight of the two skaters groaning, albeit with gloriously lacquered nails. word count: ~1.9k rating: g ✮read on ao3 | ✮reverse au fics | ✮reverse au art | ✮rev au q&a open! →my main blog | →em’s art blog

Victor starts coughing one afternoon at practice and Yuuri gives him a sour look. He's been watching Victor from the sidelines today, trying to make sure he can see exactly where Victor's rhythm isn't lining up with his musical composition. When Yuuri looks closely, he can see that Victor looks a little more flushed than is strictly typical, so he raises a hand and summons his pupil off of the ice.

The taller man is panting, adjusting his bun, and Yuuri tells him to lean against the signboards. Before Victor can blink and tiredly ask his coach what he's doing, Yuuri takes left glove off and puts a cool hand to Victor's forehead.

It's sweaty, yes, and Victor colors lightly because of the contact, but his temperature is unbelievably high. Yuuri sighs as Victor sheepishly smiles. "Why didn't you tell me that you weren't feeling well, Victor?"

Victor leans his head on Yuuri's shoulder and sighs dramatically. "I wanted to practice anyways. I'm not feeling that bad! I've been to competitions with worse fevers!"

Yuuri scowls at his fiancé and Victor bows his head like a droopy puppy. "We're going home." Victor claps his hands together and whines before Yuuri slaps him heartily on the back and the taller man mutters under his breath instead. Yakov and Yuri cast them glances as they pack up, Victor's coughs and sneezes picking up in volume as they leave the rink.

They make a quick stop at the grocery store before heading back to their apartment. Yuuri makes a simple chicken soup with some of the leftovers in the fridge. Every since he'd made Victor hurry into his pajamas and crawl into bed, the younger man has been napping fitfully. Yuuri wakes him up in the evening to eat quickly, and nervously sidles next to him after he feeds Yukachin and takes him out for a walk to pee.

It's nerve-wracking, because Yuuri's never had to worry about staying arm's length from his partner, but Victor's sick. The tactile silver-haired man needs space to wheeze throughout the night, and he'd fuss if he got Yuuri sick as well.

Yuuri claps his hands together for a silent wish for Victor's help and hopes that anyone is listening, because he can't bear to see his student and rival remain ill.

Yuuri wakes up with a cough and Victor hoarsely says, "Oh no." The two of them go on their morning run together even though they feel bogged down by grogginess and slight fevers. They down medicine and swallow down soup lazily, but by the third day of Victor's passing bug, Victor is totally down for the count, and Yuuri isn't much better. They text Yuri Plisetsky to let him know they won't be at practice again, and he tells both of them that they can piss off, but what else is new.

Both of them barely manage to drink water and force each other to sit up for short bursts of time, just to make sure they still can.

That afternoon, while their eyes are crossing, Yuuri slurs his words and says, "We should, mm, do something. That'll make us stay awake." He toys with the ends of Victor's long hair, smiling in exhaustion, the flu-born flush creeping over his nose. "You've been sick longer, so you choose."

"Really?" Victor babbles, aiming to pick Yuuri's right hand up to kiss his ring. Instead, he fails miserably and falls down on the wooden floorboards, missing Yuuri's arm entirely. Yuuri giggles when Victor groans. "I wanna do your nails."

"What, like clippin' them?" Yuuri hums, patting Victor on the side and smiling fondly down at him.

"Noooope," Victor sings lazily, turning Yuuri's hand over in his own. "Gonna paint 'em all nice. Gonna put your name on mine."

"Okay," Yuuri replies, slumping next to him on the floor, threatening to doze off, which is the opposite of what they want right now. "You get the polish?"

Victor mumbles something, groggily stands on unsteady legs, and pads off to the bathroom. He comes back and gently pokes Yuuri's leg, startling the older man back to full wakefulness. Yuuri sits up with a yawn, rubbing eye crud out of his lashes. Victor pulls his hair back with a scrunchy from his wrist and sneezes for a moment before clicking bottles together in his collection. "Blue's your favorite color, right?"

"Yep," Yuuri quickly answers, head lolling a bit as he tries to focus on Victor's adorable little pout instead of the tilt of the room in his vision. "Yours is pink, right?"

"Absolutely," Victor says, picking bottles up while Yuuri blinks and folds his legs. Yuuri watches him look for the perfect colors for a moment before lifting himself up and going to grab a rag from the laundry room. As soon as he sets it down on the floor, Victor seems to have chosen the correct blue and the shade of magenta he wants to use.

He sets to work on Yuuri's nails first, scoffing as he quickly trims them and plucks Yuuri's hangnails sharply. "You need to get manicures more often, Yuuri."

Yuuri rolls his eyes. This is about the fiftieth time his lover has told him so, but the older man is not inclined to listen to Victor's blistering advice, and especially so while both of them are incredibly ill.

The soothing sound of the clippers and the filer almost lull Yuuri back to sleep. Victor sneezes twice and tries to hum, but then gets frustrated with his congestion. As soon as he's ready to start painting, Yuuri's eyes open blearily and his dark eyes follow the foggy-eyed determination that Victor wears as well as his sweaty blush.

His hands are shaking a bit as he moves the brush over Yuuri's nails, layering primer first, then color, and then sealer gloss. The finish is far more professional than Yuuri himself could have accomplished, and he watches Victor finish the job in awe. Yuuri waits until Victor tells him that he's free to do whatever he wants, because the polish is finished, and he sends Yuri Plisetsky a message in his haze.

Victor is trying valiantly to paint his own nails but he's also coughing up a lung, and Yuuri is too tired to get both of them something to drink. He complains that he's running out of nail polish remover and cotton balls, but honestly his voice is turning into white noise now. Yuuri barely types a coherent text.

Yura. We need crackers and nail polish remover. I will give you 600 rubles. You're our only hope.

Immediately after he sends it, Yuuri looks up at Victor with a curious expression. Victor pats his lap with a dopey smile and Yuuri crashes as soon as his head hits Victor's thigh and the younger man lets out a noise of slight discomfort.

He falls asleep with half of his nails painted and almost forgets to properly twist the cap back onto his favorite magenta polish.

Yuuri had given the teenager a spare key to their apartment immediately after they'd moved, but this doesn't stop him from making a ruckus as soon as he stomps in and sees them sprawled out all over each other, breaths shallow and faces covered in sweat. They look like a hot mess, with tissues scattered all over the floor and nail polish bottles splayed haphazardly over the floorboards.

"The fuck is this?" Yuri's words make the men blink away in exhaustion, both of them coughing and wheezing as the blonde helps them up and shoves them into the kitchen. He looks in the fridge, finds the soup, and heats it up, plating the crackers on separate plates. Victor and Yuuri are barely talking, which the teenager knows is the true sign of illness for them.

He puts spoons on all of their dishes and puts his palms down on the table. "Now hurry up and eat while it's hot. I'm not babysitting you shitheads all day."

"Thanks, Yura," Victor sing-songs, slurping his soup languidly, humming at the taste of Yuuri's soup, even though it's all he's been eating for three days.

"Is it okay?" Yuuri flicks his dark eyes up at Yuri, who scoffs.

Yuri standoffishly replies, "It's okay," before shoveling the broth in by picking up the bowl and hurrying to get more. Since the two of them are sick and have low appetites, they just let him eat his fill.

As soon as the older men are finished, about ready to fall off and pass out at the table, Yuri takes the time to hike them over his shoulders one at a time, helping them stumble to their bedroom. Once they're tucked in, he turns on the TV and shouts, "I'm staying to watch my shows and then I'm going home! No dying."

Victor and Yuuri groan something unintelligible back at him, so he just clicks his tongue and surfs channels.

Yuri helps them air out the room and take their medicine, staying at Victor and Yuuri's apartment until the sun begins to set. They see him off, and he hikes his bag over his shoulder. "You two better hurry and get your asses back to practice or you'll regret it!! Now stop being sick. Bye!!"

As soon as he's gone, Victor sits with Yuuri on the couch, still tired, but he feels phenomenally more aware. Yuuri looks like he feels the same way. It's still warm from where the blonde had been sitting.

"He's a good kid," Yuuri says, shifting so that Victor can lean fully against him, lips warm on Victor's lightly feverish crown. "We should keep him around."

"Once I get his volume under control, he can stay," Victor breezily responds, making Yuuri laugh. The sound jostles through his chest and Victor feels warm, but this time, it's not because he's fighting off the flu. "How do you feel? You think we can make practice tomorrow?"

"If you're up for it, I'm up for it." Yakov will give both of them mouthfuls for missing so much practice, especially since Yuuri is such a doting coach to Victor. "Let's give it our best shot."

For now, the two of them doze on the couch, then move to the bedroom in the middle of the night, hands linked the whole time.

They are still tired and slightly sick when they come to the rink, but Yuuri comes with a special surprise for Yuri Plisetsky.

He makes all of them lunch, neatly packs it in cases, and gives one to Yuri with a weak smile and the six hundred rubles he'd promised. Yuuri says, "We're feeling better now, thanks," before he heads to a bench to put on his skates.

Once Victor and Yuuri are out of sight, the teenager opens it to find a cute cat made out of - god, who knows, lunch meat or something - on top of a bed of rice, and an array of other bite-sized things next to that. He smiles softly to himself until he hears Mila's voice and snaps the lid back in place.

When he gets sick a couple times later, Yuuri and Victor come to Yakov and Lilia's house, dote on him relentlessly, and paint his nails black, per his request.

Yuri Plisetsky hates getting sick, but he begrudgingly admits that it's not so bad with company.

#txt #reverse fic #yoi #yuri on ice #mod: ash #reverse au

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